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1kook · 4 years ago

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disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jjk♡#jeon jungkook #mine

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ask-the-riders · 3 years ago

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Info about Draug

That I may or may not have copy and pasted from one of my really old blogs that I lost access to

Physical description, backstory, some likes and dislikes, abilities, everything you could possibly wanna know about my dead boy is here

**Some of this might be subject to change, but eh. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it

Physical description:

His hair is kinda messy looking, pretty much all the time, and he puts little to no effort into making it look good. There's only a select few people that are allowed to touch his hair. His fringe is mid length, and his body type would probably be lean. He's dead, eating is something he only does once in a while if he feels like it, and he doesn't need to exercise, because he has supernatural strength. His eyes are solid white, though the center (where the pupils would be) will turn bright blue and start glowing when he's ROYALLY pissed off about something. His skintone is a very light blue-grey, and he has small barnacles covering his body, from all the time he spent underwater, in the ocean. He picks the barnacles off whenever he sees them, because they're just one of the things that make him uncomfortable and insecure. His normal/casual clothes would be loose fit pants (not necessarily jeans, he just likes clothes that don't restrict his movement), an old, torn long sleeved shirt that has one of the sleeves (from the elbow down) ripped off, and a leather vest (or whatever you'd call it... It's like a kind of chest plate/armor, or something of that nature)

Abilities:

Temperatures don't bother him

He can change his body temperature to suit the needs of anyone that comes into physical contact with him

If it's winter, he can make his body temperature ruse rapidly, because water boils, and he can manipulate and generate water from nothing

During the summer, his body temperature drops, because another thing water does is freeze

After becoming a draugr, Draug possesses inhuman strength and speed, along with the agility he had while he was alive

He can cast death curses on people, and he can cause storms and very minor natural disasters

He can also change his size and form. In order to blend in with society while out and about, he takes the form of an ordinary human. If he wanted to hide from someone or something, he could turn into a rock or inanimate object. Those are the only things he’s able to take the form of though

Backstory (warning: it's angsty af):

When he was alive, his name was David

In his village, boys were sent off to be trained as warriors at age 13. David didn’t like fighting though. He preferred reading and academics

In training, the one thing he excelled at was agility

He lived back in the era of Vikings, which lasted from approximately 793 to 1066

David’s father died shortly after he was born, during a hunting accident

David was very close with his mother the entire time he was alive. He heard stories about what happened to his father, and he just wanted to help take care of his mother

His mother was fairly young, but she was wise beyond her years. Many of the other villagers went to her for advice and guidance

He didn’t take the name ‘Draug’ until after his death because he became a draugr (basically an ocean zombie), which is the same creature that killed him

Some friends of the family invited him to go out on a fishing trip with them. His mother was very worried and begged him not to go. When she knew she couldn’t change his mind, she gave him a necklace with a medallion on it. Her explanation was that the medallion would give him strength and protect him

He set off to sea with his mother’s friends, and as it started to get late, they were the only boat on the water. David was below deck sleeping, but he woke up when he heard a woman scream. He ran to the deck to find a draugr trying to rip apart his mother’s friends husband, who was frantic and screaming for help

David tried to help her, but she ended up sacrificing him to the draugr, thinking it’d spare her husband

The draugr took David overboard, dragging him to the ocean floor and drowning him. The man it mauled died of blood loss shortly after, so his mother’s friend basically sacrificed David for nothing

The entire time he was gone, his mother would go to the docks and wait for him to come home. Years passed, she grew older and older, and eventually, died of a broken heart because she’d lost not only her husband but her only child as well

When David woke up years later, still at the bottom of the ocean, at first he was confused and didn’t know what was going on. When he looked down at his body and saw the condition it was in, he remembered what happened and he was horrified at what he’d become

He decided to return home to tell his mother he was alright, and that he was sorry for not staying with her. When he finally got back to his village and discovered that she’d died, he felt his already unbeating heart break

Out of fear, the villagers chased him away, saying that he was a monster and he had no place there. Some of David’s friends could even be seen amongst the crowd

He spent years wandering aimlessly, trying his best to find a new home

Other stuff:

Given that he was 21 when he died, as of 2018, he’d be about 793 years old

He speaks Danish and broken English

While he technically doesn’t need food (because of being dead), he still feeds on human flesh. It’s usually up to someone else to supply it though, as to not cause a scene or any mass hysteria

He has a small figurine of a knight that he carries around, that he named ‘Oscar’ (<- for the sake of the current storyline, I feel like he just keeps Oscar tucked away somewhere now)

When being transported anywhere, he’s usually required to wear some form of restraints

If he goes too long without flesh, he starts getting very drooly

Draug’s eyes are usually solid white, without a pupil. If he’s angered, the area of his eyes where the pupil would be turns bright blue

Draug doesn’t like the idea of wearing shoes or modern clothes. He thinks they’re immodest and/or too restrictive

Because of the trauma he went through, he sometimes reverts back to a more childlike mentality

Other than being unable to protect a child (for any given reason), the only thing Draug is genuinely afraid of would be snakes

As time passes, he does get better at managing his temper

Probably because now he's in an environment where there's always kids running around, and he loves kids, so the last thing he wants is to scare them (<- assuming that he'll meet Mortem and Paragon at some point)

If he accidentally scared a child, he'd feel absolutely horrible and would be desperate to try fixing whatever it was that scared them so bad

Because he's dead, he physically can't blush

The only thing that could make him blush would be any scenario that makes him super nervous or embarrassed

If he gets too embarrassed though, he responds with anger and/or agitation

There's a spot behind his left ear that immediately turns him docile, if he were to ever get unreasonably upset and loose control

If you press on that spot, everything's fine. If you press in the spot behind his other ear instead, you just agitate him further

He still has nightmares about his mother from time to time, and he still feels incredibly guilty that he couldn't make it back in time to tell her that he was ok, or that he loved her

He'll disappear every so often to go visit a little secret shrine (if that's the right word I'm looking for) he made, if he wants to vent

He usually just vents about whatever's on his mind, and he likes to think that his mother's listening

His birthday is December 28th

Temperature isn't something that bothers him, so he doesn't really have any special outfits for the various seasons

#info #draug.exe #riderverse #riderverse au #undertale #undertale au #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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SFW Alphabet - Prince Lear

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Lear isn’t very affectionate. Growing up in a strict household and shipped off to a boarding school has made his cold and unable to properly show emotions. The way he does show affection is tense. Once he does ease up, his affection is more apparent. He’ll inch his hand over to you and grab yours, eyes looking the other direction; it’s hugs that are too tight and hands that linger on your back, and soft fingertips that trace your face. Farther into the relationship, he’s a lot needier for affection. He’ll be draped on you, legs on top of his or ours. He’s touch starved and seeking out your warmth.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Friendship would start with either fashion or quippy remarks. He can appreciate someone who has a good taste in fashion and/or someone who is able to snap at him and keep him levelheaded.

He’s the type of best friend were he talks smack about others and is just a little shit, a devious grin and hand covering mouth as he criticizes others. He’s very adamant about keeping you as a friend so it’s a lot of shopping and gifts.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

After the touch rejection phase phases out, he’s very much a cuddler. He wants to be wrapped up in your arms and hear about your day. He wants to bask in your warmth and feel your hands stroke his hair. He’s very often the little spoon. He likes to be held and nuzzle into you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wouldn’t mind to settle down. It isn’t constantly in his mind but if he were ever to become a father, he would spoil the heck out of that child. He would like to get married one day, wake up next to someone and just gaze at them in bed and fiddle with a ring whenever he’s anxious.

He is an excellent cook and cleaner. He knows how to work his way around a kitchen and prefers to prepare his own meals. He doesn’t like a dirty environment so his things are neat and tidy, everything where it belongs and papers in a neat stack.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s not good at saying goodbye. It leaves him with a sick feeling and tears that sear his skin. Breakups aren’t done face to face, through a message is how he works. It’s a simple message that just says that he’s breaking up with you and he spends the next month shopping and tossing things into the bin.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment makes him anxious. It shakes him to his very core and leaves a sour taste on his tongue. He knows that it all stems from his relationship with his family and that it’s one of the reasons why commitment deters him away and he can’t really dwell on it for too long or else he’ll spiral. That being said, he will ask for your hand in marriage but it’s going to be a long wait.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s fragile and will treat you as such. He’ll fret over you, he tries to be soft with his touches, only squeezing back when you do, cooing and pecking soft kisses to you. He doesn’t push too hard and only will when he knows you have to let out steam.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He isn’t used to hugs so when you start to throw them his way, he’s stiff and unsure of what to with his arms. Afterwards, his hugs and tight and lingering, holding onto you like you’re a security blanket. He doesn’t want to let go and the way his hands grip your shirt says it all.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes a long time for his guard to lower and actually say that word. He’s thrown it out before but it’s always been to inanimate objects. The first time he ever said it was when he thought you asleep and the moonlight was casting a soft glow around you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He has a low sense of self-worth and because of that he gets easily jealous, thinking that you’ll leave him to be with someone more down to earth. When he wants to make himself known that you two are together, he’ll grip your hand and just start talking to you, completely cutting off the other person and dragging you away.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses with Prince Lear are soft and hesitant, lips too nervous to touch your skin, that brush over yours for a second too long before they finally kiss you. He enjoys kissing you on the outline of your jaw and he enjoys to be kissed on his temple and the palm of his hand.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s oddly really good around children. They like seeing his flashy clothes and his loud personality makes kids just go buck wild in his presence, wanting to scream to match his personality. He likes being around kids because they’re just so excitable and in awe of everything- it’s a real good ego boost.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

It’s lazy mornings where you both lay in bed twenty minutes after you’ve woken up, where you stretch and whine as your bones pop and feeling comes back to your legs. Mornings where he doesn’t want to let go.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It’s late nights where you watch him do his skincare routine and often join him. Late nights where you both recount your day and bask in the silence.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He won’t reveal information about himself until you’re deep into the relationship. Sometimes he says things by accident, mentioning it offhandedly as you’re eating cereal. Other times it’s late at night where he’s whispering to you his story, his voice full of emotions and hands clenched tight to prevent shaking.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a very thin patience but he can hide his anger well. He tries to be patient, biting on his tongue and looking the other way but his blood will boil and red crescent marks will decorate his palm.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He has an excellent memory. He remembers everything that you like, everything that you dislike, completely random facts that you forgot that you even mentioned.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in the relationship is your late night talks when the darkness overtakes the room and you can only feel him. The dark makes him feel more secured. You can’t see the tears that roll down his cheeks when he talks about his mother and father and that makes him feel safer, more in control.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s very protective. He believes that you can protect yourself, but he won’t be the one to stand down, he’ll spit words of venom and take you away from the scene. He won’t ever admit it, but he likes being protected. He likes knowing that someone loves him enough to defend him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries so much with every special holiday. He gives it his all and always tries to one-up himself every year. It all feels like it’s too much and it’s a bit suffocating but it feels nice to know that you’re wanted.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can mask his feelings well enough that you won’t know what he’s feeling until it’s too late. He doesn’t want you to see him in a vulnerable state, he doesn’t want you to see him as weak so he’ll scowl and act like emotionless until he’s throwing a tantrum.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is extremely vain. He watches what he eats, has an entire skincare routine that he follows religiously. He needs to appear as if he is in control- that he is above others. He has to look the part of a prince.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would feel incomplete without you. He’s gotten attached and if you were to ever leave him, there would be a hole in his chest that he would desperately try to fill even if said task were impossible. He cares for you so much that the thought of you leaving him fills him with pain.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He’s oddly fascinated with true crime. It chills him to the bone and he’ll stay up at night thinking about the crime and then he can’t sleep but he really likes them. It’s fascinating hearing people talk about stuff like that and do the amount of research to get all the facts correct.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general and in a relationship, he doesn’t like a person without manners. He doesn’t mind if you show your claws every once in a while but he does like a bit of class. He comes from a high society where he was surrounded by silver and gold, where elbows where allowed on the table and eating with your hands was frowned upon. He tries not to let it bother him as much as it used to, but he will turn up his nose at lack of manners.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

His bed is covered with blankets and pillows both for you and him since he hogs everything soft in his vicinity. He also has a habit to jerk in his sleep, little kicks that brush against your calf. Mumbling in his sleep where the little words are spoken that only the night hears.

#pokemon masters prince lear #pm prince lear #prince lear x reader #prince lear headcanons #prince lear pokemon #pokemon prince lear #sfw alphabet #gonna knock out all the hcs today and tomorrow #tell me if im missing tags #cause i always feel like its too short #prince lear #got maybe like four or five more hcs

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rosecoloredbi-writes · 4 years ago

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Settle (Chapter 3)

Summary: After the death of your best friend and their spouse, you went from Godparent to Parent overnight. Now, Mio is your world. Because of this new role, you move back to Tokyo, Japan in order to keep Mio with her friends and her school, even if it means you might run into *him*.

Warnings: Mentions of stalking. Swearing probably. Cannon violence. Single parenthood. barely mentions Mio’s parents passing. Mentions of needles/tattooing at home. First look at Dabi and the reader's abusive relationship...

Gender Neutral!Reader x ?????

Mentions of past GN!Reader x Dabi

A/N: So... I decided the direction for the pairing has changed and it could be anyone even though I made this with the intention of it being Shouta... but who knows!! It sure as hell isn't me in charge of this :)

Tags: @dungeons-and-awkwarddragons @encrytpta

The next day, Aizawa escorts you and Mio to a Quirk Testing Facility nearby, wary of any watching eyes. He expects Hawks to be there, maybe a few others who are involved in the case, even a few involved from afar. This is one of those multi-agency cases. All hands on deck when it comes to the League of Villains.

Aizawa watches as you step out of the changing room with Mio in matching athletic gear, although yours shows more skin for ease of use of your quirk. You go sit down in the chair next to his as you both wait for the quirk tester to appear. Mio puts in headphones to listen to music.

A scowl shows up involuntarily on your face as soon as Hawks walks in. A smirk on his stupid, punchable fa-

“Why don’t you like Hawks?” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts before they can start to get violent.

Your eyes slid over to meet his for a moment before you turned back to the man in question, “I know his type.”

“And what exactly is my type?” Hawks interrupts from across the room.

Damn his excellent hearing.

You stood, going toe to toe with the bird boy, glad in this moment that Mio is busy listening to music. “You're the kind of guy who is a little too cocky for his own good, who doesn't care if he hurts anyone else to get what he wants.” You flush slightly when you realize just how close you had gotten to him.

“Sounds like a compliment to me,” he winks, a stupid lopsided grin on his lips.

It makes you want to-

“Alright Mx. L/N,” a woman walks in with her eyes on a clipboard, “Let’s see what you can do!” She looks up to see the impending clash and gives a look that tells you this is something she is used to.

You send Hawks a mischievous glare, “I can demonstrate on him if you’d like.”

Hawks is about to volunteer when the woman, Professor Tanaka, sighs and tells Hawks to sit down.

He sits next to Mio who begins admiring his feathers.

You start warming up your muscles and make quick but concise observations of the testing room. It made you nervous. You hadn’t gone to a hero school because you never wanted to be a hero. You would have been perfectly happy being quirkless however, you weren’t. You had this quirk and now that you had Mio, you would use it to protect her. Gone were the days of others using you for your quirk.

A chime goes off and a few bots appear for the upper left-hand corner. As you turn you begin to form a staff from your right side, pulling it up and out so that it doesn’t get caught on your shorts, you’d learned that the hard way. A few quick jabs and the bots fell to the floor and different ones come in. They were built to mimic common quirks so you had no way of knowing what they’d use, but you weren’t going to give them any time to show you. You quickly create the throwing knives you had tattooed on your hands/arms and threw them with precision so that they strike anywhere a bot could deploy a quirk. Then, you pick your staff back up and strike them. They explode on each other and you duck away from the blast. A chime goes off informing you the current test was over. So, you stand up and take a bow.

They were content with your performance, so now Professor Tanaka was having you make as many things as you could in succession. You look back to see your audience, Hawks is doing his best to look bored, Mio had excitement and pride written over her features, and Aizawa… you couldn’t read him. You had no idea what he was thinking or feeling and that made you nervous.

You were getting bored, so you had Mio come over and point at a tattoo for you to create rather than you picking at random. You created vines that extended past your arms and crept around the testing room, one wrapping around Hawks’ ankles and another up Aizawa’s chair to his chest. They moved in a snake-like fashion, curling and slinking up and around whatever you wanted. This went on for about 10 minutes before they began to disintegrate back into nothingness. You were drained, but now Mio had touched the butterfly, it was her favorite of all your creations. With the last of your energy, you create a swarm of butterflies that gently flit throughout the room.

Hawks gasps. You turn, intending to give him a smug look, but your eyes catch on Aizawa, who looks on with an almost childlike wonder. His eyes meet yours and that sparkle is back for just a second before it’s gone again.

You now look back to the professor who is writing in her notebook quickly. You had anticipated this. Most people with creation quirks could only make non-living things. You were somewhat of an anomaly. Before the professor could ask questions, you began explaining your quirk.

“My father’s side is full of run-of-the-mill creation quirks while my mother had an illusion quirk. I got the mix of the two. I’ve never been able to create anything more complicated than bugs and insects. My vines seem alive, but they’re probably closer to working like Eraser Head’s capture weapon. Inanimate objects are easier. I can keep those up for hours if need be. My vines didn’t last long because I’m already worn out and I’m directing multiple parts at once. The butterflies last longer because I don’t control where they go or what they do, at least so far.”

Professor Tanaka nodded as she continues taking notes, Mio was having the time of her life running around amidst all the butterflies, Aizawa was trying not to stare, and Hawks had a look on his face that causes you concern. He stands and approaches you quickly, wings puffed, back straight.

“Y/N, why the hell aren’t you a hero? We could use someone like you!” he was exasperated, but you knew he didn’t understand.

“Hawks,” You said as you stand. Your butterflies begin to swarm behind you causing a beautiful but terrifying visual. “Why do you think you know what's best for everyone around you? Why do you think you know me? I’ve played hero before and it was hell. I am not an object, a weapon to be used by someone else!”

Your butterflies swarm him, following the emotion you carry with your words. They aren’t going to hurt him, but Hawks uses his feathers to disintegrate your creation. You shake your head at him and he feels something odd in the pit of his stomach. You almost reach Mio when you collapse and luckily Aizawa is there, catching you quickly.

“I fear we pushed them too far,” a distant voice comments. “We ought to save Mio’s testing for another time.”

“You know why we need these results, Professor,” A smoothly annoying voice responds. “I say we do it anyway.”

Professor Tanaka speaks again, “We need parental or guardian permission before we can perform testing on minors. I will not skip a step because you *need* something.”

Then a third voice pipes up, “I’m lead on this investigation and I say we wait.” His tone is bored but straight to the point.

Thank you Aizawa, you think before you lose consciousness again.

Dabi has been in this damn tree for hours by the time you return, the erasure hero helping you walk up to your apartment. Dabi moves so he can keep an eye on you as you walk through your bedroom door. You begin to shed clothing as soon as the door is shut and Dabi takes a moment to look over your naked form, taking count of the different tattoos that cover your skin. Most are new- at least new to him. But he sees the dagger he inked into your skin so many years ago placed on the back of your thigh before you jump in the shower.

Dabi had helped you get out of a scrap with some lowlifes who would have picked a fight with anyone. You didn’t have many weapons at your disposal. So far a few throwing knives and your vines, but you’d have yet to master your throw or control of the weaving plant.

The plan for the evening had been to grab some pizza, but you were left exhausted. Whatever was in the fridge would have to do. Dabi picks you up and gets you back to your dingy shared apartment. It took a few hours, but you eventually woke up and stiffly got up from the spot Dabi had discarded you on the couch. Carefully you sat down at the desk with transfer paper and began to work on a design. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when a shadow covered your lighting.

“What do you think?” you ask, still focused on correcting an edge of the blade.

“I think it’s sexy,” he whispers, lips at the shell of your ear.

He gives you a few suggestions and then you print the drawing on the transfer paper.

“Where do I put it?” you’ve got an eyebrow raised suggestively.

“Let’s see,” he circles you, looking over every inch of skin that was currently exposed. “Pants,” he demands more than asks.

You do as he said and wiggle out of your pants. He gets closer, crouching down to run a rough finger down your leg before he determines the spot, leaving a kiss just below your left ass cheek.

Then he gets to work prepping the workspace, making sure everything was sterile. He places the stencil, taking his time. When he removes the paper you turn to look in the mirror and nod.

The only time Dabi is tender is when he has the needle in his hand inking you with your drawings. This process is what keeps you there. You know he’ll never let anyone touch you, he’s too possessive… and obsessive. But, you were drawn together for a reason- you were both too broken and too angry at the society of heroes everyone worships.

Dabi sighs, feeling odd about the hero making you dinner. “How disgustingly domestic,” he mutters to no one. “I'll give you one more night of peace,” he says decidedly. “League be damned. I’m doing this my way.”

#my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fic #boku no hero #boku no hero fanfiction #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero fic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia fic #eraser head #eraser head fanfiction #eraser had fanfic #eraser head fic #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa fanfic #gender neutral reader

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nightrosebud · 4 years ago

Note

💫 with author's choice!

Can I Exist? by Missio

So I kind of cheated a little and put Missio on shuffle to choose a song. I have been wanting to do a fic using one of their songs for a while. Can I Exist? is not my favorite song from them, but I think it works for some Stricklake angst.

Home is where they say the heart is Mine's buried in the yard

Strickler let himself out of the Lake household, checking that Jim's Vespa was not waiting for him in the driveway: the only thing that could have ruined such an excellent evening. Young Atlas was probably off on his fruitless quest of requiring the Triumbric Stones. Let him. It kept Jim out of his hair and could even result in his death.

But what would that mean for Barbara?

Strickler tried to ignore the pang of guilt he felt thinking about the good doctor while getting in his car. It wasn't his fault the Amulet had chosen Jim. It's wasn't his fault Jim didn't tell his mother what was going on, making her worry. It wasn't his fault that Jim put himself in harm's way and could end up in a troll's stomach.

But it is your fault he is being hunted by an undead assassin. It is your fault you are seeing his mother. It is your fault her fate is tied to yours, for better or for worse. And we all know it's for worse.

Strickler winced. He was getting emotional in his old age. It had to be done. He had no choice.

Hell's a place they say is for sinners I'll be the man in charge

Strickler rubbed his eyes, trying very hard not to curse in Trollish while at school. "Otto," he gritted through clenched teeth, making his tooth ache even more. "I have gone over this already. Many times. This is for the benefit of all Changelings."

"Ja, ja, you say that mein freund," Otto replied over the phone. "But I feel that if that is true, you won't object if I called a meeting of other Changelings to make sure it is not for the benefit of just one Changeling."

"No," Strickler responded, hopefully not too sharply, as he signed a form allowing Miss Janeth to take a field trip to the planetarium. "It won't be necessary." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his sore jaw. "What if I visited with the Lady today? See what she has to say?"

"She talks to you?" Otto asked in awe.

"Of course," Strickler lied. "And if she truly wanted Gunmar free, she would tell me."

But... how, can I exist? Within the mist of this? But... how, can I admit? That I would quit on you?

Strickler went into the travel agency. The Changeling at the desk flashed him a broad smile. What was her name? Susan something. No matter. She was a terrible spy hence her role here behind a desk.

"Good day, sir," she said with that disturbing smile. "Where would you like to go today? Down?" She grinned as she lifted the phone and dialed a number to make the floor move just as he stepped on the secret elevator. He didn't respond but started inspecting his nails.

"You know," Susan said in the ensuing silence, "I saw something interesting the other night." Strickler looked at her, feigning indifference, but something in her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "You were on a date," she continued. "A doctor I have come to find out. You certainly have good taste, sir; she is beautiful."

"Just keeping up appearances," he drawled, but inside he was screaming. "You know how humans talk if you don't appear to be interested in a romantic relationship."

"Oh, I know," she said, as the elevator continued down. The mural behind her was showing Gunmar with the Decimaar Blade. "But I was able to find out who she is. Doctor Lake. You wouldn't be sleeping with the enemy, would you, sir?" she asked innocently.

He flashed her a smile, probably with more teeth than required. "Well, look at you, Susan," he said in cheer, and she blinked in surprise. "You find that out all on your own? Maybe you are a better spy than I thought." Susan blinked again but started looking smug. "I will reevaluate your position. See if you can go out on the field."

"Thank you, sir! I appreciate it, sir! All glory to Gu— to the Pale Lady."

"Yes," he agreed as the elevator stopped. "To the Pale Lady." He started to go down the hallway, the smile sliding off his face as soon as Susan was out of sight. Blast it all; he would have to take care of her before she blabbed to the whole Order.

I wrote God a simple letter Still haven't heard from him

Strickler stood in the room that housed the phonograph. It always seemed silly to him how they had to talk to inanimate objects and instruments to hear her. But they didn't choose the vessel; she did. He started turning the handle to play the old record that had always lived on the phonograph. Maybe he could find another record to put on there. Wasn't there a record shop in Arcadia? Perhaps some punk rock for the Pale Lady. He smirked.

There was nothing but static for several minutes, just long enough so he could tell Otto that he tried, he really tired, and just before Strickler gave up, he swore he heard a whisper.

"Free... Gunmar..."

He stopped completely. Well, that was nothing. His imagination really. He quickly exited the room. He had a dentist appointment to get to. No time to listen to old phonographs. Yes. Quite.

I must have really messed up this time Shit must have hit the fan

Strickler stood in the street. He left. Otto left him. Otto. How many times had he gotten the other Changeling out of trouble? Just for Otto to stab him in the back. Metaphorically. Stickler would have been proud if it didn't mean his own head would be the one to roll.

What should he do? Angor Rot would not stop until his head was ripped from his shoulders; that was abundantly clear.

Barbara!

Jim! There was the answer. Jim would have to protect him; he would have no choice if he wanted his mother to survive. Strickler winced. He didn't want anything to happen to Barbara either, dammit, but here he was, thinking about his own bloody hide. And what would happen if Jim insisted that he get rid of the bond? Would Jim throw him to Angor, as a peace offering? Surely he wasn't that cold?

Why not? You were that cold, said a voice in Strickler's head that sounded a lot like Barbara.

He gulped and started walking towards the Lake residence.

But... how, can I exist? Within the mist of this? But... how, can I admit? That I would quit on you?

Barbara was looking up, following the sounds of Jim fighting Angor Rot upstairs. Really, she was taking this better than Strickler had thought she would. Fainting spell and drinking a whole pitcher of water aside.

"This tunnel leads to the sewers. You can get to the street," Strickler explained, gesturing to the giant hole in her basement.

"What about my son?" she asked, hands clutched in front of her. Strickler followed her gaze, and they listened to the fighting for several tense moments. "What's going to happen to him?" she asked in terror.

"No, you have to go!" he cried as she took a step towards the stairs.

He grabbed her arm, but Barbara whirled in anger. "No! He needs my help!"

"You don't understand," he started to explain, hands held up. "Our lives are bound magically."

Barbara scoffed. "Are you really talking about our relationship right now?"

Oh, darling, if you only knew.

"My boy is in danger!" she cried, and blast it all, she had circled so that she had a clear shot to the stairs. Strickler grabbed her, fear for her and fear for himself making him rougher than he should be, and he winced when he felt the pain in his own shoulder. "Let me go!" she screamed, and she slapped him. A second later, her head jerked back as an unseen force hit her back. "Ow!" she cried, and then she clutched her cheek. "What was that?"

"Listen to me!" he growled, emotions starting to run wild. Barbara needed to go, and maybe she needed to be scared enough to think of herself for one bloody moment. "Leave now!" And he let his eyes glow.

"What are you, Walk?" she asked in awe.

"I'm someone who can help your son... "

But weren't you the one who got him into this mess in the first place? something whispered in the back of his head.

"...but I can't until I know you're safe." He put his hands up in a pleading motion. "Please," he begged.

Barbara paused, and he could see the war on her face. A mother just wanting to help her son, her only child. And she opened her eyes, with the stare of a warrior, and issued a command he could finally follow. "Then go to him!"

But... how, can I admit? That I would quit on you?

"Don't talk to me," she growls, a frosty tone of anger Strickler has never heard in her voice. "You're the one thing I'm looking forward to forgetting."

And he sighs as she looks away. That's fair. He deserves her anger, her rage. The things he put her through, without her knowledge. This was the conclusion that he always knew would come if Gunmar had made it to the surface, if Angor had killed Jim, or if Jim had survived everything thrown at him.

Better she forgets him. Forget his betrayal. Even if Jim told her the truth as he promised, she would be upset, but not sad. He would bear that pain. Bear the weight of his consequences. That would be better. Better for her.

Quit their relationship, once and for all.

#Stricklake #Trollhunters #feather-dancer

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missfiatlux · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5

read on reddit

Down in the Nightlife, Plutonium awoke.

“Sir,” said the messenger who had woken him. “I am sorry to report that instead of the two damned souls we were expecting, we have received 108.”

Plutonium’s face transfigured in wrath. “What the hell? Do these people think the Nightlife is some sort of ultra-adaptable cloud cuckoo land? No! I’ve got a fucking schedule to run, budgets to balance, vendors to pay, and various deities to appease! I’m under immense stress, and these Daylife folks think they can just up and die any fucking time? I’m half a mind to turn them away, but noooo, ‘we can’t let dead people wander around through the Daylife, it’s bad for morale.’ Who the fuck cares about the fucking Daylife? Not me!”

Plutonium repeated this rant nearly every day, only varying where he placed the profanity. As such, it had somewhat lost its scariness.

The messenger began again. “Sir, reports say that the change of plans was caused by a single individual, a boy-vampire named Axel Johnston. He caused his car to briefly grow aerofoils and fly over the Grand Canyon. At the same time he caused a plane carrying 108 passengers to spontaneously detach from its wings and fall into the canyon. That’s where most of the damned are from.”

Here was a problem Plutonium could solve. “Put a bounty on Johnston’s head,” he bellowed. “Five hundred million! Dead or alive!”

“Sir, are you sure? This Johnston character seems awfully powerful. Perhaps he can help you regain favor with the gods.” The messenger felt, for the first time, that he was extremely smart.

Plutonium stroked his chin. “Excellent thinking. Make sure it is clear that the bounty will be awarded only if he is captured hale and hearty.”

The messenger nodded and dashed off. Later on that day, signs went up all over the Nightlife, signs with Axel’s face (a creative rendition by the messenger, replete with horns and a mohawk), and information about how to collect the bounty. The souls of the damned observed these signs with interest. Being dead is not all that gripping, after all.

***

Drip. Drip. Drip. Hubcap listened to the persistent dripping of water out of the gutter, as she gazed at a newly posted sign on the wall. Down in the Nightlife, the air always smelled damp, and frequent fogs rolled through. Hubcap had never seen it rain here, but anything that stayed down here long enough would eventually get soaked by condensation. The sign was already wrinkling in the humidity, as was Hubcap’s white tuxedo. Dew was forming on the hellhounds’ slick black fur.

“FIVE HUNDRED MILLION FOR AXEL JOHNSTON, CAPTURED ALIVE,” read the sign. The picture showed a boy with a mohawk and two horns. Hubcap snorted. This was clearly a creation of someone’s fevered imagination. In her years of experience at bounty hunting for the Nightlife, it was quite common for the pictures on the signs to bear little or no resemblance to the person they were aiming to depict. While this initially caused her great confusion, she had now learned to contact Plutonium himself for the necessary details.

Other details about Axel included that he was a vampire, and extremely dangerous. Apparently, he had killed 108 people in a plane crash. This was either exaggerated or completely misrepresented. Hubcap tore the damp sign off the wall and stuffed it in her pocket. “Let’s go,” she said to her three hellhounds. It was time to find Plutonium.

***

“Hubcap, it is good to see you again,” boomed Plutonium. “Here to talk to a dead relative? Want to know your future? Need a divine favor?”

Plutonium knew it was none of these things. It never was. Hubcap was, for someone who had managed to make their way to the Nightlife, surprisingly pragmatic.

Hubcap smiled. “Oh, no. I am here to inquire about this wanted poster for Axel Johnston. This picture is... not an accurate depiction, is it?” She held up the imaginative poster.

“Your killer instincts are correct,” Plutonium said. “My sources say that Axel Johnston is medium height, his hair is brown, and he has vampire teeth.”

“So where is he now?”

“He’s on the move, but I think he’s somewhere in Utah.”

“Great,” said Hubcap, moving to leave. “By the way, you might think about making your wanted posters more helpful. That way you can save time by simply supplying the relevant information upfront.”

Plutonium looked somewhat hurt. “I didn’t know you disliked talking to me that much!”

Hubcap waved dismissively as she left. This was why Plutonium had lost favor with the other gods. He lost his temper frequently, was inefficient, and acted like an incorrigible flirt. Hubcap would bet all the money of the reward that this bounty had something to do with a plot to regain favor with the powers that be.

Still, obtaining the reward would be no easy feat. Axel sounded wily and smart, especially since he was already on the move. Possibly he knew that he was being pursued. In fact, he probably knew that the Nightlife existed, and could be engaging in his own ploy of trying to obtain whatever it was he wanted.

Hubcap tried to think what vampires usually wanted. A lot of them were trying to reclaim their lost kingdoms. It was kind of romantic, really; lots of kids dreamed of discovering a new land, and the urge to recover a lost kingdom seemed like the same kind of impulse for discovery, but transmogrified into something that usually made Plutonium angry, which is where Hubcap came in. Usually she felt no qualms about her vocation, but this newest case reminded her of fear.

***

A long time ago, Hubcap captured a vampire named Talfie Roskov.

Talfie was on Plutonium’s radar because she kept trying to strike deals with him to “liberate” a certain soul from the Nightlife. She brought him valuable objects and offered various services in exchange for one of the damned. Things were a lot more complicated than Talfie seemed to assume, however. First, the damned didn’t have bodies. If they were to be brought back to the Daylife, they would have to be bound to some object or person. Second, all the gods agreed that death was sacrosanct and not to be trifled with. Plutonium, forever trying to curry favor among them, was thus reluctant to help Talfie, no matter how noble her cause seemed to be.

The biggest consideration, however, was that there was no compelling reason to bring any of the damned back to the Daylife. You’d either have to exchange your own soul for their soul (hence becoming one of the damned yourself) or find someone else who was willing to exchange their soul (hence, you losing a dear friend, for who else but a dear friend would give their very soul?) Alternately, you could bind the soul to some inanimate object, but this presented the issue that inanimate objects cannot communicate, and are unsatisfying as companions.

Given these limitations, Talfie was either wholly illogical, or completely misunderstood. It was possible that her reasons for bringing back the dead were far different from what they appeared. When she first heard of the story, Hubcap thought that it was kind of like the classic tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, but what if Talfie, like Hubcap, was just a mercenary?

It didn’t really matter. Talfie eventually got tired of fruitless negotiations, and she snuck in a pack of playing cards. She found the soul that she was looking for, and she performed some rite to bind it to her deck of cards. By the time Plutonium found out, Talfie was long gone.

Chasing Talfie was the thrill of Hubcap’s life. The hellhounds ran, and sniffed, and howled, covering tens of miles of ground a day; Hubcap camped outside, sleeping in shifts with the hounds. At the end of the fifth day of hunting, Hubcap had Talfie cornered in a shabby, abandoned barn.

Hubcap was quite curious what a deck of cards with a soul looked like. So while she cuffed Talfie, she asked to see them.

Wind whistled through the cracked slats of the barn. “You’d know it as soon as you saw it,” said Talfie. “The cards are always warm. They’re ornate, you might think they’re tarot, but they’re not. Some of them have foil on their faces. I don’t know how to describe them, but they look like they’re all from some different, alternate universe, clinging to each other tightly so as not to be alone in a strange land, if you know what I mean. I lost it a long time ago.”

Hubcap shivered, then snapped the handcuffs closed. “Sorry to hear that.” She felt like a cat with a dead bird in her mouth.

***

After taking Talfie to Plutonium, Hubcap went back to her hotel room and dumped a pile of chicken entrails in the bathtub for the hellhounds to eat. She took off her dirty tuxedo jacket and sat on the bed. The excitement of the hunt was quickly dissipating, replaced with a strange, morose drowsiness.

Hubcap had seen Talfie’s deck of cards before. She had, in her own way, unintentionally asked it for a favor. And this favor had been granted. It was to this deck of cards that she owed her hellhounds. Plutonium had never asked her how she’d gotten to the Nightlife, and she hoped he never would. Otherwise she would have to make up a lie… but she was too tired for that now…

***

Hopefully Axel was one of the delusory vampires, the ones whose greatest ambition was a very, very small one, a desire to reclaim rather than make new. If not, well, Hubcap would do her very, very best to avoid getting mixed up with it. She was only into magic for the money.

#heartbreaker #hellhounds #hubcap #bounty hunter #white tuxedo #nightlife #chapter 5

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txthearteu · 4 years ago

Text

extra long tag game (aka a tmi that no one particularly cares for)

tagged by @soobindipity 🥰 thank you bb 😌❤️

tagging @btxtreads @choisoobinie @unlocktxt @bffsoobin (this one is long so feel free not to do it ahahahaksksksks)

note: i found the breakers somewhere here in tumblr but i forgot who the owner is, so full credits to whoever owns these breakers

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

of course it’s their debut song Crown. I have to admit, I listened to them not because i discovered them but because of the whole “bighit is releasing another boy group” fiasco. people thought the hype would die down, i did too, but to this day the boys never failed me. they consistently made me happy with the content they gave out for everyone to enjoy. also adding, i think i’m attracted to them more (compared to their seniors) since they’re around my age– something in which i feel like i can relate to (in terms of the content they put out, or the jokes, etc)

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

becoming a music artist (pop star) 😔

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

travel to Japan and explore the place 😩

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

chopsticks hahahahaha because i usually eat using the spoon and fork when i eat out

favourite type of plushies and why?

anything twotuckgom related! they’re so soft and convenient because of the size. i also kinda wanna buy the bolsters 👀

favourite song right now?

i don’t have any but if you ask what i’ve been jamming to i’d say its city girls by chris brown

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

producing music, japanese, korean, hacking

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

so in the city where i live, there are places in which the canals don’t have any stoppers. i saw this kid walking with his family alongside these canals and he was just vibing with the song he was singing to. he was so into the song he was singing that he missed a step and he kinda slipped and fell in to the canal (don’t worry though there weren’t any serious injuries) and i swear it was a funny sight

headphones or speakers? why?

headphones! when the opportunity is present then i’d listen to my music with no outside noise

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

corndogs 👀

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify since i’m on spotify family

😌✌️

questions from eri to me:

what’s the best trip/vacation you’ve ever had?

the vacation i had in Japan last year! 10 days never felt so short in my life and i was planning to go back earlier this year but you know...’rona....

do you have any random fears/phobias? if yes, what are they?

i’m the toughest gal everyone knows but i get really creeped out by butterflies or bugs. i also get scared with inanimate objects that look like a human being when it’s laying still in the dark, i’m scared of mirrors as well HAHA.

weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?

worms

do you have any hidden talents? what can you do?

i can curl my tongue into what seems to resemble a three-leafed clover. i can also mimic voices well and, from what my friends said, i could actually dance well and im super fast in picking up choreography hahaha (ok but it’s what they said okay)

what is an activity you’d like to try out someday?

biking/hiking/camping :>

when did you get your first phone and what type of phone was it?

i think it was back in 4th grade and it was the famous nokia 3310

what is a movie you never get tired of watching?

flipped!

biggest pet peeve?

i absolutely get annoyed when someone tries to rush me and by the time i’m ready, they haven’t readied themselves

earliest childhood memory?

i put sand in this ice-cream-cone-looking rock, and i ate the sand thinking it tasted like ice cream

as a child, what did you want to be? what about now?

a music artist (pop star), until now that’s still my dream but unfortunately, i had to be “practical”

✌️😌

questions from me to you:

android or apple? why?

words of affirmation or physical affection? why?

bean bag or rocking chair? why?

do you view a half-filled glass as half-full or half-empty or an in-between? why? (go as deep as you can)

if someone were to grant your wish right now, what would it be and why?

if someone were to give you anything you want right now, what would it be and why? (something that can be held)

favorite season and why

what made you enter tumblr?

are you happy with where you are in life right now? why or why not?

to see the boys in real life but for it to happen only once in your lifetime, or to meet the boys via online fan meeting as many times as you can in your lifetime? why?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: -

nickname: cj

birthday: oct 12

zodiac: libra

nationality: filipino

languages: english, filipino (and my dialect), lil teeny bit or korean and japanese kskskskksks

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 5'1 and a half (spare me the half pls im trying to act tall)

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: --

meaning behind my url: to put it simply, i love txt

blog established: start of quarantine

followers: 43 lovely followers!

FAVORITES

favourite animals: do you know cat and dog?

favourite books: anarchy by styleslegend (swear i've been hyping it since my 1d days) ; the tale of heidi by johanna spyri

favourite colour: yellow/brown/black (can’t choose)

favourite fictional characters: hulk, hinata shoyo, tomoe (from kamisama kiss)

favourite flower: i don’t have any ahahahhaha

favourite scent: mens perfume/deoderant

favourite season: spring

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 6-9

cats or dogs: (i love them both but i really love dogs but i just wanna hug them both because i love both cats and dogs)

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee is my go to energizer, for some chill time i’d go for hot choco

current time: 22:34

dream trip: japan(again)/australia/europe 😩

dream job: music artist 😔

hobbies: playing instruments [violin piano ukelele sometimes guitar and drums], listening to music, writing songs, beatboxing

hogwarts house: slytherin

last movie watched: oh dear god i cant remember HAHA

last song listened to: bbibbi by iu

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): if given the chance again, i’d combine mint choco and bubblegum ice cream; when i’m bored i try to re-read all my past lessons AHAHAHAHAHA; currently in a 5-year relationship akshsskskssjsjduskgkad

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to

city girls - chris brown, young thug

angel or devil - tomorrow by together

paradise - bts

zombie - day6

see you again - tyler the creator, kali uchis

dally - hyolyn, gray

love - kendrick lamar, zacari

redemption (with babes wodumo) - kendrick lamar, zacari

pyramids - frank ocean

all in - monsta x

#this was long #but i enjoyed answering it hehe #i'm having a music slump rn so my music choices aren't updated aksshshhshsjsjjsks #i love you all #love me back #🥰❤️

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avantegarda · 5 years ago

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Wonderful 1000: The Merry Misadventures of Chopin the Pig

@cherepashkadrabbles requested a tale featuring an assortment of Kiraly-von Holstadt family pets and somehow this happened. Enjoy!

It was all Anna’s fault, really.

Not Anna Király the elder—that esteemed matriarch had gone to her reward over a decade prior, though Andras insisted that her spirit still kept a watchful eye over the family, particularly around Christmas. The perpetrator this time was Anna Király the younger, aged three, the apple of her mother’s eye: a plump, auburn-haired little elf with strong opinions on absolutely everything.

The opinions, this time, were regarding the family dachshund.

“Wolfgang is sad,” Anna insisted, with a fervent tug at her mother’s skirts. “Sad sad sad.”

Marta reluctantly put down the letter she was reading—a rare missive from her friend Sophie in New York—and regarded her daughter with surprise. “What on earth do you mean, Anna darling? Wolfgang is the happiest dog in Vienna. He has lots of food and a warm bed and you and Sofia and Zoltan to play with him. He has no reason at all to be sad.”

Anna shook her head firmly. “No, he sad. Lonely. He need ‘nother dog. Or kitty.”

“He’s lo…” Marta paused, her stomach twisting in sudden worry. How exactly did Anna, still practically a baby, know that word? Was Anna lonely? It couldn’t be terribly easy to be the youngest in their family, that much was true. Sofia and Zoltan, while affectionate and kind older siblings, had a tendency to disappear into their own artistic pursuits, just as their father did; Sofia with her singing lessons and Zoltan with his drawing. Leaving little Anna...well, out.

Perhaps it wasn’t Wolfgang who needed another animal around the house.

“I’ll tell you what, darling,” Marta said slowly. “Your uncle Heini spends most of his time out in the country and he knows all sorts of animals. Perhaps he’ll have a kitten or a puppy who needs a new home.”

Andras might have some objections to another pet being brought in without warning...but at the smile on Anna’s round face Marta really couldn’t bring herself to care.

Heini’s reply was swift and enthusiastic.

Dear Marta,

I was wondering when you were going to ask me this very question. Three children and only one old dog around the place to keep them company? It’s obscene.

I have just the beast for you, too. You’re expecting a barn cat or some such, I’m sure, but I have a slightly more unusual suggestion. I’ve convinced Father to let me acquire a new kind of miniature pig from the East (I won’t bore you with all the agricultural details), and one of the sows has just produced an excellent litter of piglets. Would Anna like one? As babies they’re the size of a cat, practically, and they don’t grow to be more than two feet tall. Once he gets older he might have to spend most of his time in the back garden, but I can guarantee the children will love him.

Your affectionate brother,

Heini

“A pig?” Andras said incredulously that night, as he and Marta got into bed. “In the house? I always knew your brother was just as mad as you are but this seems like a bit much.”

“But it’ll be wonderful for the children, darling,” Marta replied. “Think what an educational experience it will be for them to have a new kind of animal to learn to take care of!”

“They’ve already got more animals than I ever had as a child. I had to make do with Erszi the pigeon, while our youngsters have Wolfgang and Nyafi and all the animals at Burg Holstadt…”

“Nyafi is a wonderful cat,” said Marta, “but she spends all her time in Pest and so the children only get to see her about half the year. And Andras, I think that…” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I think Anna needs this. Yes, she’s still very young, but she needs something that’s hers. Why not a pig?”

Andras sighed, though it was obvious that his resistance was softening. “I still say pigs belong in the barn, not in the house. Is this one of those things that’s so lower-class it’s gone full circle and somehow become fashionable?”

“Undoubtedly.” Marta snuggled closer and planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “And we’ll be the most fashionable family on the Wipplingerstrasse.”

“Hmm,” said Andras wryly. “If it’s a matter of fashion, I suppose I can’t possibly refuse. Now come over here and give me a proper kiss.”

Marta grinned triumphantly as her husband pulled her into his arms. If anyone ever asked why she’d given up a title and a fortune to marry a musician—as they still occasionally did—it was moments like this that she pointed to. Every single time.

The newest member of the family arrived two weeks later, carried in a basket and delivered by a beaming Heini. It was certainly a fetching creature; small and bristly and ivory-colored with dark splotches and shining eyes. And the children, of course, were utterly enchanted by it.

“What should we call him?” six-year-old Zoltan demanded. “Should it be a Hungarian name?”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “No, silly, Nyafi the cat already has a Hungarian name. The pig needs an Austrian one.”

“But Wolfgang already has an Austrian name…”

“Well, Wolfgang is named after a composer,” Marta cut in gently. “So perhaps this little fellow should be too. Andras, what music does he make you think of when you see him?”

“He has rather melancholy eyes, doesn’t he,” said Andras. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and hummed a few bars of something slow and romantic. Both Sofia and Zoltan screwed up their faces, thinking deeply, until finally Sofia clapped her hands in triumph.

“Of course!” she cried. “Chopin! It’s perfect.”

“Well, I certainly like it,” said Marta. “But Anna should have the final say. What do you think, love?”

The entire family looked down at Anna, who was crouched by the basket softly petting the piglet’s bristles. At the sound of her name, the little girl looked up and beamed.

“Chopin,” she said. “My piggie.”

There appeared to be nothing more to say on the subject.

“I am going to make that damn creature into kolbasz,” Andras growled. “I mean it, Marta. This is the last straw.”

Marta’s eyebrows went up. “Final straw? What were the first straws?” She had to admit, the last month having Chopin as a pet had been slightly less peaceful than expected, but she hadn’t been aware of anything too terrible. Besides, the children loved him.

“Well, first of all, Anna insists on letting him sleep in her room, and he knocks everything over and chews on all her toys. And then Zoltan put paint on his hooves for some piece of art he wanted to do—is that what art is coming to in this country?—and Chopin tracked it everywhere. And now,” Andras said with bitter triumph, “he has destroyed my work.”

Marta inhaled sharply. “He hasn’t broken Clara, has he?” Though technically an inanimate object, Andras’ beloved violin had been a part of the Király family since 1861, and if something happened to her…

“No, thank God. If Chopin damaged Clara he’d be at the butcher’s shop this very minute. But what he did do isn’t much better. I have a performance in three weeks, at which I am supposed to be debuting my No. 4 in B Minor which I have been working on all week, but that creature,” said Andras grimly, “has gone and defecated on it.”

The snort of laughter that escaped her lips was one Marta immediately regretted, and at Andras’ scowl she quickly apologized. “But how did he get on top of your sheet music, darling? Was it on the floor?”

“I don’t see how it matters where my papers were,” Andras said primly (which translated to “yes, they were on the floor, due to my excessive absentmindedness”). “We need to get that thing properly trained or he’ll be going right back to the country where he belongs.”

“I’ll take care of it. Now get back to work.” Marta wagged a stern finger in her husband’s direction. “If you give a performance that isn’t a success my parents still may find a way to annul our marriage.”

It was a generally understood rule in the Király household that when Andras was in his study composing, he was only to be disturbed in the event of an emergency. This was less because it would annoy him and more because when he was focused on music, he was temporarily incapable of thinking about anything else.

All of this was to say that, when Sofia cautiously entered the study shortly before dinner on Saturday, it was clearly a matter of some concern.

“Papa?” she asked. And, when her father neglected to look up, a bit louder: “Pa?”

Andras, whose world for the past two hours had consisted entirely of the concerto he was writing, jolted out of his reverie to find his hands nearly black with ink and a worried-looking eight-year-old staring at him. “What’s the matter, Sofia?”

“Have you seen Zoltan?” Sofia blurted out.

“Sofia, your brother will be holed up in his bedroom or out in the garden. Is this really…”

“He’s not, though. I’ve looked everywhere, he’s missing.” Sofia sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “And it’s all my fault. The von Braumark twins came for a visit today and Zoltan wanted to play with us but Lottie said he couldn’t because he’s a boy and Liesel and I went along with it and he was so upset, and after the twins left I went to find him to say sorry and he’s gone.”

Having grown up with three temperamental younger sisters, Andras was quite accustomed to children going missing and then reappearing at the oddest of times. Therefore the news of Zoltan’s evident disappearance was no cause to panic.

Not yet, anyway.

Two hours later, through concentrated search efforts and several hastily dispatched messages, the Királys had been able to establish a list of places where Zoltan was not.

He wasn’t anywhere in the house or back garden.

He was not at his grandparents’ house (as far as anyone could tell, though the von Holstadt mansion had eighty rooms and it took considerable time to search all of them).

He was not at the homes of any of their family friends, nor was he in the nearby park.

And while all of this information was technically useful, it was not making Marta and Andras any less worried.

“I don’t want to call the police, but I think we might have to,” said Andras, pacing back and forth across the sitting room floor as he had been for the last ten minutes. “How else are we supposed to track the wretched boy down?”

Anna, who was crouched on the floor patting Chopin, looked up eagerly. “Chopin can find him.”

“Anna, darling,” Marta sighed. “Chopin is a very nice pig but I don’t think…”

“No, Mama, she’s right. Pigs have a good sense of smell, even better than dogs,” said Sofia. “And they’re very clever too. If we give him something of Zoltan’s to smell, and then we follow him��” She trailed off, looking up at her parents hopefully.

Marta and Andras looked at each other for a long moment, until finally Marta sighed and nodded. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

The five (four and a half?) of them made a rather odd sight on the rainy Viennese streets: Andras holding both Anna and a bright red umbrella, Marta clutching Sofia’s hand and Chopin’s lead. A proper traveling circus, that’s what they were. Marta would have found the situation more amusing had she not been scared out of her wits.

Chopin, at least, seemed to have understood his instructions. After getting a good whiff of Zoltan’s nightshirt he appeared to recognize the boy’s scent and was now trotting along briskly, pausing occasionally to snuffle at the ground. If he actually found Zoltan, Marta decided, she would feed him the finest scraps to be found anywhere in the city.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, Chopin halted in his tracks at the imposing gothic facade of St. Maria’s am Gestade. He snuffled at the ground for a moment as though confirming a suspicion, and then grunted with satisfaction.

“Is it sacrilegious to bring a pig into a church?” Marta inquired.

“If we’re looking for a missing child, then I’d say we’ll be forgiven,” Andras replied. “And this door had better be unlocked.”

It was, thank goodness. And when Marta’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she detected, in one of the front pews, a small dark-haired figure sitting completely still.

“Zoltan!”

The little boy looked up in surprise as his family all but ambushed him. “Mama? Papa? Chopin? What time is it?”

“Past time for you to be home! I am so glad you’re safe.” Marta pulled her son into a tight hug before pulling back with a frown. “But darling, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I like that painting,” Zoltan replied, pointing up at the glorious gold-hued altarpiece. “It always makes me feel better. So I thought I would come and sit here until I stopped being cross with Sofia.” He looked down at his feet and kicked his legs guiltily. “But it was naughty to run away, wasn’t it.”

“Very naughty,” Marta said, with considerably less sternness than she intended. “You’re lucky that we found you.”

“No, Chopin find him,” Anna insisted from Andras’ arms.

“Chopin was brilliant,” gushed Sofia. “Pa, you like him now, don’t you? You won’t have him made into sausages?”

Andras let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose so, but I expect you lot to keep him in line. Train him up. No feral pigs in my house, if you please.”

As the children launched into a debate about what tricks, if any, Chopin could be trained to do, Marta reached down and scratched the piglet gently between the ears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I knew you were worth the trouble.”

While none of the other members of the family would believe her, Marta insisted that Chopin replied to this with a very cheeky wink.

#it's tooo loonnggg #but here tis #wonderful 1000 #my writing #unshakeable #we stan chopin the mini pig

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altalksaboutstuff · 5 years ago

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Shantae: 1/2 Genie Hero

From the 16th of this month, March 2020, to the 15th of next month, April 2020, Games with Gold has the excellent platformer – Shantae: ½ Genie Hero. As long as you have an active Xbox Live or Xbox Gamepass Ultimate subscription

It's “FREE” to download during that period but even after April 15th, you can keep playing it, it won't leave your library and if you let your subscription expire it will still remain, you just can't play it.

I have had Gamepass for about a year now, I wanted to kind of document my journey and time with games on Gamepass and one of the first that I played when I got the service last year was Shantae: ½ Genie Hero. Unfortunately, this game is no longer available on the service and I thought back in September of 2019 that I had lost my chance to talk about it in a relevant sense, but lo and behold its back now – kind of, in a zombie-esque way.

The game expiring from Gamepass was actually the launching point for me to a Switch. It was my birthday in September and Shantae was just about to be removed from the service, great present Microsoft. I was kind of depressed that in this moment in my life that I had spent about a quarter of a year playing the game that was just going to up and leave. Now I could have bought it and at a discount but if I did that I would be getting just the base game that I was practically done with. I also had all this extra money from my birthday burning a hole in my pocket and instead doing something smart like putting towards my mortgage – I ended up buying a Switch to cheer me up. And what does the Switch have but the physical version of Shantae: ½ Genie Hero that includes all the DLC.

THAT – and the fact that one of my favorite games of all time was just remade – Link's Awakening.

So I got those two games to cope with the fact that I wouldn't be able to play Shantae on Gamepass anymore in a few days ...but I had also gotten my wife a Switch Lite for our anniversary so I kind of wanted a reason to give it to them early and we had a Switcheversay on September 28th.

NERD!

On a side note of this tangent – I feel like I'm always a little behind with Nintendo, with my earliest exposure to Nintendo being no different. Way back in the dark ages of the early 1990s I was a Genesis Lad. After school I was in a program where I first got to play a Nintendo game, there were NES consoles, games and Ataris as well. While kids at school were telling me, “YA GOTTA PLAY Donkey Kong Country 2 and Mega Man X!” The cutting edge stuff of the time, I would root around and find other games like Donkey Kong Jr. and Mega Man 2 on NES. Now don't get me wrong, those were great games I loved then and still love now but I was behind the times. I just didn't have a Super Nintendo, like most of my peers that I went to school with. I just had the Sega. So when most were playing Super Mario World, Chrono Trigger and A Link to Past – I was playing Sonic... Sonic (Sonic 2)... and Sonic... (Sonic 3 but not & knuckles)

BUT Sonic is great!

When my friends had a Gameboy Advance, I still had a Gameboy Color. When the DS was the hot handheld, I got a Gameboy Advance, I got a 3DS around the time Fire Emblem Fates came out when it seemed like everyone was clamoring for a new portable technology and I got a Wii U when it was all but dead. As previous stated, I only got a Switch last September. Heck, I haven't even played the new Mary-o yet

Pushing forwarding in the way back machine to the time when I was a still a young teen, at the age of 14, I remember a Gameboy Color game came out that I really wanted to get – Shantae. I don't even know why I really wanted it other than it was a new Gameboy Color game when new Gameboy Color games weren't coming out. Like, I remember the Gameboy Advance came out about a year ago but I didn't need one according to my parents-

Me: Mom, can I get a Gameboy Advanced? Mom: You have Gameboy Advance at Home ::At home::

So the impact of a new Gameboy Color game coming out - blew … me … away.

Of course - I didn't get that game either.

Now don't get me wrong, I still got games as a kid on birthdays and Christmas but I feel like the games I didn't get are the ones I look back at and think – If only...

(^I never had a Neo Geo but I wanted this game)

Love you Mom and Dad

Back to Shantae though

Tangents aside – why do I think I like this game?

Why is it when I played Half Genie Hero in June of 2019 did I really got hooked on it well until the end of summer? I play, play, played it – all the modes, collect the endings, the tedious achievements like Queen of the Seven Cheese where you have to beat Risky Boots by just chomping at her as a mouse doing 1 damage at at a time.... ugh! For achievements I even … gasp (teeth noise) … speed ran it. And successfully, not on my first attempt though! Or … at least successfully enough to get the endings and achievements. I've never speed ran a game before, at least on purpose. I drew bad fan art!

(^Unlike everything else on this post, I actually drew that [sorry])

For the first time in my life I even looked into Fan Fiction.

Which, on a side note, I don't recommend you look at most of the fan fiction that I’ve seen if you are at work.

The game really got its hooks into me and I'm not exactly sure why but I think I might know.

Well, it feels like a SEGA Genesis game – long story short.

Short story long - I think the best way to classify what kind of game this is, is Metroidvania. You have a mini map and you unlock powers that later allow you to explore the rest of the levels you had previous been to and there are collectibles and upgrades you can buy in game. As you play you can upgrade how Shantae attacks by purchasing upgrades for her hair whip attack or armor but the big mechanic is the transformations – you can turn into animals with varied attacks and abilities as well as some other inanimate objects and living things like this tree

- to help you better get across the stages and discover the secrets of Sequin Land.

I've also read its kind of Mega Man– ish which I had never really thought about before but yeah, because I do love some Mega Man. It has a lot of obstacles/the levels are kinds of obstacle courses like the early NES Mega Man games and there are two areas particularly in my mind – The factory in Mermaid Falls and the Hypno Baron's Castle part of the … Hypno Baron's Castle stage. Well most of it is actually like an obstacle course now that I think about it

The score is by Jake Kauffman and man, AND if I ever make a game I want that guy doing my music. I mentioned the factory part of Mermaid Falls before – the best track in the game and maybe even in any game I've ever heard is Counterfeit Mermaids, its such an earworm,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkXd26E_Ynw

I feel like this song and Neo Town Burning are the two best games

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yParHIzy1nA

You are going to be in the camp that one is better than the other (though Counterfeit Mermaids is clearly the superior track, ahem)

Its a great soundtrack, I find myself tuning into it during my commute to work and sometime even turning off my podcast or audio books to listen to this soundtrack (yes Even Neo Town Burning too). The game's lead voice actress according IMDB is Cristina Valenzuela (sometimes credited as Cristina Vee) who sings the games title theme that also appears in the first level, Scuttle Town the first time you play the level and also when you first boot up the game its there too. POW! Give it a listen – sample plays and fades. Its great. This soundtrack is really memorable and still in my rotation almost a year after I played it for the first time.

The characters themselves too are varied in personality and the styles are now toted as being“in high definition”.

Shantae is my least favorite but I think that works well in the sense of self insert. And that's not to say Shantae doesn't have a personality, she is kind of bubbly and she cares a lot about her ties such as to her family - such her uncle Mimic and her late mother - and to her friends. The three main friends that back Shantae during her journey (that also get their own adventure in the DLC)

Sky - a somewhat more responsible friend of your that is out to give you some counsel and a ride to each stage on her cool bird

Bolo – who offers a bit of comic relief

Rotty Tops the zombie that is a true friend that shows up to support you and cheer you on, in one time literally too.

By the way there is also Risky Boots (the best character, IMO) who is the larger than life antagonist to akin to a comic book villain.

But even with the “HD” graphics, and incredible score everything about just feels like … a Sega game. I can't really put it to words to do it justice, like, it has the essence of games I grew up with. I know a lot of people already had that nostalgia rush with Freedom Planet or Sonic Mania but I only just got Freedom Planet on Switch

Which is great so far, by the way

and Sonic Mania is on my to do pile

so for me – Shantae was it.

I felt that joy like I was 5 years old playing Sonic 2 for the first time. I took me something embarrassing like 8 hours to beat the first time. But after I beat it, I immediately wanted to play it again. I almost NEVER want to replay a game after I beat it – Best case is I take a break and play it again in a year. While it took me a laughable amount of hours to beat the game the first time but by the time I was really invested and on the 3rd or 4th time replaying it, I was completing it in under 2 hours. I was looking up speed running strats and Youtube videos of people speed running the game to compare and contrast how I played the game. I never, ever thought that I would speed run a game. Super Metroid still takes me an embarrassing number of hours to play and I've beat that almost as many times as Shantae now.

Having played both the Xbox One and Switch versions they look pretty similar and seem to play about the same. I noticed that the game seems to run a bit better on the Xbox One and the load times aren't as long

So I really recommend you get this game. I'm super jealous if you've never played it, you get to experience it for the first time! If you don't have an Xbox One but have a Switch you can get the physical version for pretty cheap, used I got this copy for about $20 and it has all the game content. And with the DLC you can finally play as Risky Boots!

It goes without saying that the game I am most excited for this year, 2020 is going to be Shantae and the Seven Sirens.

If you don't have an Xbox or a Switch, the game is also on PC too. Steam has sales, last time the Ultimate Edition was on sale it was only about $21 (show pic) and with a plug and play controls great.

And just as I was checking before posting this, it is on sale for $20.99 until March 30th, 2020

Its also on PS4, I guess if you don’t have any other options

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swellwriting · 5 years ago

Text

LOVER Pt.1

- I Forgot That You Existed -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

A/N: Welcome to the beginning of this journey, hope you are excited for the rest of the story, please let me know what you think, like/ leave a comment/ reblog and all that stuff it’s really appreciated :))

Word Count: 2.7k Series Masterlist Part 2

Warnings: Just violence for this chapter.

Hydra had fallen and S.H.E.I.L.D had fallen with it, given they were truly one and the same in the end. But just because the secret was out, it did not mean that Hydra had gone extinct. They thrived working in the shadows and casting new light just made more shadows in new places for them to hide. Like rats they scurry from one safe place to another, making new hidden bases, moving back and rebuilding old ones. That was their dumbest tactic.

On their tails, they had the Avengers chasing them, and the Avengers weren’t easy to hide from since they seemed to be growing in numbers every day.

To make matters worse for them, because you just loved to make things worse for the organization that ruined your life and stole it from you in more ways than you could count, they had you, their very own prized “Asset Number 2” who was living just to continue to kill them all. You wouldn’t stop until you could safely say that Hydra was a thing of the past.

And any new organizations like Hydra that came up, you would put their fire out before they could burn someone else as they did to you, as they did to him.

You would search for intel, scan digital global maps, return to old bases trying to find where the disease of Hydra had spread to next. Hydra was right to call themselves by this name, Lerneaen Hydra being the type of monster that when you cut one head off, two more would grow in its place. It was tiring chasing after the “heads” but what else was their really to do with your life, with your abilities, work in a small town diner? Not a chance.

You consider for a moment what it would be like, serving drinks with a cherry fake smile, winking at men that made your stomach curl for an extra tip, and then bringing them out back and slitting their throats for trying to put a hand up your short uniform skirt? It would just never work out.

The explosive device you had set on the door goes off, blowing your hair back and spreading a bit of heat against your cheeks.

“That was a close one.” You thought aloud, feeling your face to make sure your eyebrows were still there. You had been looking into this specific base for a long time, you were tired of trying to figure out passwords and lock codes so you did a small heist of the local police department armoury and decided the loud and proud approach was more your style today. The alarms blared like music to your ears.

“That’s right, panic, scurry around like rats, grab a weapon, it won’t help you.” You say in a sing-song voice, purely for your own amusement, it had been a long while since you had had a partner to joke with.

You grab your .44 magnum revolver from your thigh holster, lean up against the wall and listen for nearing footsteps around the corner, you check and make sure you have all nine bullets loaded and when you hear the tip tap of the scurrying rats you duck down and peer around the corner, shooting upward as the men run towards you in blind panic. There were six of them, you counted each one as you put a bullet in their heads, even as they realized you were there and went to turn and run you were too fast.

You took a moment to admire your work because hell if you didn’t who else would?

The men wore bleachy white lab coats now stained in their own dark blood, “damn lab rats,” you say with a spite filled yet satisfied grunt as you spit on their bodies.

You look down the hallway, no one else seems to be there but you know better than to waltz down there with only three bullets left. You grab a grenade off your hip, pull the pin and hold it to your lips as you count to three before dramatically rolling it down the long hallway like a bowling ball until it hits the door at the end and stops.

You hear men begin to yell “grenade” but your timing’s too perfect, they don’t even finish the word before their lips are probably blown right off their faces.

“Strike!” You congratulate your self as you slowly stride down the hallway, a swagger to your step. Fuck a diner, this was what you were good at. You excelled at this.

One of the men wasn’t quite dead, you walk up to him, stick the heel of your boot into his chest where the skin is torn open and then kiss the blade of your knife before pushing it through his heart. You fake a frown as you watch the light leave his eyes.

“Awe just a spare, you ruined my streak!”

As if human lives were equivalent to bowling pins, but in your mind, the lives of Hydra officers were lower, even lower than an inanimate object, but can anyone blame you, they treated you the same way.

You skip down the hallway, twirling your knife in your hands until you think you hear a noise, holstering your knife you grab your prized AP4 gun off your back and hold it up to your line of sight, tired of the dramatics and wanting to see Hydra blood splattered on the walls of their underground steel hell box.

You find nothing and no one as you kick the door to the lab open.

In total there were only a few lab rats and couple meek soldier mice? Hydra must be feeling the pressure you’ve been putting on them lately, good.

You plug in your USB and start the download of all their files, this will help you figure out what Hydra’s up to and where their other basses might be.

You hear a noise down the hall, one expertly quiet footstep that only a super-soldier would notice, you should have checked the surroundings before you left your back so open, someone comes in and you raise your gun at them about to yell at them to drop their weapon, until you realize you are being held up by a man with a bow and arrow.

You laugh for a moment, he shoots an arrow as you lower your gun and you catch it, breaking it in half thanks to your super-soldier strength and laugh. Your laugh fades to shock when someone walks in beside him, his gun is covering part of his face but you recognize that metal arm, that messy hair that needs to be trimmed, his face as he lowers the gun a bit to look at you.

“Winter?” You ask, losing all of your focus as your mind panics and before you realize the stupid arrow guy shot again, right into your stomach, it feels like a sharp pain, it goes straight up your spine and into your head making your vision go blank and your stomach ache. You’re lying on the ground, when did you fall?

“Fuck,” you say but it comes out so quiet and you feel so weak, you squeeze your fingers to stay awake, to focus but something is wrong, something is so very wrong.

You hear faint footsteps.

“Someone already cleared out this base, I’m assuming it’s our gal there that you shot in the stomach without thinking.” Says a voice you swear sounds like Tony Stark, or at least how he sounds on tv.

“She was pointing a gun at me!” Clint defends and Bucky chuckles as he walks over to you, you’re alive and struggling on the floor, like an animal, helpless and visibly angry about it as you grab at your stomach.

“She’s not dead,” Bucky confirms as he grabs your hand, but he doesn’t look at you like he knows who you are, he doesn’t look sad to see you dying on the floor. And as the pain fills your body, as your head pounds against your skull, your eyes water, your mouth tastes tangy like metal you realize he has no idea who you are, your eyes go wide as you desperately try to speak to him, but you spit up blood which horrifies him.

“Impossible, I’m using those arrows you made me Tony, you said instant kill, that doesn’t look instant.”

“They are poison coated, Legolas, the poison should kill any normal person within seconds, seems our gal here is both a badass Hydra killer and a special enhanced. Barnes bring her on the jet, let’s nuke this joint.”

Clint instantly feels bad as he watches Bucky carry you away, how was he supposed to know you had killed those guys in the hallway, he came in after Nat and Cap who went into a different room, so he just assumed they had taken care of them. He looks at the small pool of blood you left behind on the ground and then grabs your USB, putting it in his pocket and hoping he can give it to you later.

You are only partially conscious, conscious enough to hear and to feel the pain circling your body but that’s about it.

You feel them lay you down and then strap you in, a safety measure, perhaps to keep you in place, or more for their own safety, you aren’t sure. You blackout from the pain, only waking up sometime later, you aren’t sure where or how long it’s been but the room is bright white, it’s filled with fancy technology on the walls and a nurse looks you in the eyes and then scurries away to get the others.

You blink a few times, sit up even though it sends shooting pain up your spine and to your toes, your brain feels numb, they must be heavily medicating you, and to achieve that they must know about your…abilities.

“We go into lots of Hydra bunkers, it’s not rare to find specially enhanced soldiers there, or traces of their past existence, but it is rare to find one who seems to be doing exactly what we were,” Tony says as the room quickly fills with various curious Avengers

“Do you usually shoot at them too?” You ask.

“No.” Tony answers easily while Wanda answers simultaniously, “yes.”

Tony looks at her, raises a playfull brow which gets him a shoulder shrug in return, and then turns back to you.

“Lets cut to the chase, you’re special. Another Super soldier by the looks of it,” he says as he flips through your lab results.

“I’m the same as Winter, same make, different model.” You joke as you gesture to your body.

“Winter?” Steve asks confused.

“Yeah, Winter, he is the only reason I even got shot, he broke my focus. I’ll never be killed by a dude with a damn bow and arrow.” You counter thinking that somehow answers who Winter is.

“Who is Winter?” Tony says, asking you again.

“How do you not know who he is? He was with you, in the base, on that jet. I saw him and blanked. The Winter Soldier, I’m exactly like him, he helped them create me, I am a copy of him.”

“Let me guess your name is Summer right?” Tony jokes.

“Spring, actually. Hydra is really creative, luckily they maxed out at two of us and didn’t run out of seasons.”

Tony chuckles at the nickname and speaks up, “FRIDAY, call Barnes to the medical ward.”

Then you just wait, still confused still in pain as the love of your life walks through the door.

“You didn’t tell us you knew our almost casualty here?” Tony asks and Steve listens intently, never having heard of “Spring” before now.

“I don’t?” He answers and your heart drops. You were right, your hunch from the way he looked at you before was right, it wasn’t that he moved on and didn’t care, it’s that he completely forgot, he has no idea who you are.

The Avengers, or at least the ones in the room, Steve, Tony, Clint, Sam, Wanda and Bucky, all stare at you with looks of confusion and some filled with accusation.

“So your story doesn’t work,” Sam suggests, instantly not trusting you, not that the others trust you any more than he does.

“It’s not a story, or an excuse it’s the truth. I was The Spring Soldier, Asset number 2, I was created by Hydra, I was the only person they found who could survive the half-assed knock off serum they created and used on Winter first. I was trained by Winter, he was my partner, my lover.” You say the last part quietly and they pretend not to notice as you look at your hands.

“You just don’t remember me, it’s happened before,” you finish.

“I thought you got all your memories back Buck?” Steve asks.

Clint chimes in, “How do you even know if you remember everything you…forgot,” but no one pays attention to him.

“I do,” Bucky assures himself aloud.

“I forgot you existed once too, and I’ve dealt with you forgetting me before too. After you left Hydra I couldn’t find you anywhere for years, they said you went chasing after some old friend, they couldn’t find you either.

I heard that you joined the Avengers and there were all these trials in the news and it seemed like you had moved on and I was tired of chasing after you so I thought it was my turn to forget, I begged a lower officer to perform the procedure, I thought to forget you would be hard, painful. I thought that it would kill me, but it didn’t. It wasn’t long before the memories rushed back. You should remember me too by now. What all do you remember, about the past?” You spill your guts, quickly running over your past skipping some of the darker moments. You ask the question as calm and collected as you can, masking the heartbreak as you search for answers.

“I remember Hydra, I remember the war and I remember Steve but not you,” he says so flatly like he isn’t bothered. As if he isn’t even trying to rack his brain for memories of you.

And he looks at you in this way that breaks your heart, behind his eyes there isn’t love, there isn’t hate, just indifference.

And it hurts because you want him back so badly but he doesn’t seem to care. As painful as the past is you crave it at this moment. Life with Winter was hectic and hard but it was worth it to be with him, this peaceful and quietness that lingered without him, without being part of Hydra was deadly. And then he had to twist the knife.

“I remember everyone I’ve ever killed, I remember everything the soldier did but I am not him.”

“Yes, you are!” You say raising your voice a little, like a wounded animal backed up against the wall.

“No, I’m not.” He says and he doesn’t yell but he says it like he��s so sure of himself and it hurts, a blow to the heart as if he’s stomping on the memories as if he’s ripping up pictures in your face. And he isn’t saying the words out loud, he’s not saying he doesn’t love you, but he might as well be.

As Bucky leaves the room in a rush the team gives you a new mix of looks. Tony looks at you as if you’re a new project, something begging to be fixed. Clint looks guilty and confused. Sam and Steve are both defensive, they had spent so long helping Bucky move on from his past, helping him believe he wasn’t the same person, that it wasn’t his fault and here you come, ruining that idea.

Wanda looked neutral, like she sort of felt bad for you but also didn’t trust you either.

The love of your life just walked out the door, leaving you behind like dust without a second thought, for what felt like the hundredth time, and you were stuck in a room of strangers who were all silently judging you and making their own opinions on you.

To make it worse you were handcuffed and strapped to this damn hospital bed. You had to get Winter or Bucky to remember you and you had to get the entirety of the Avengers to trust you and believe you aren’t a threat. What a fucking nightmare.

Part 2

Tag List: @finnofamerica @theseuscmander @fortisfiliae @theboywhocriedlupin @draqcnheartstrinq @carolinesbookworld

Let me know if you would like to be tagged, this series is getting its own special taglist since I discontinued all my other ones.

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completeoveranalysis · 6 years ago

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TRC Translation Notes Volume 15 (Chapters 109 - 116 + Omake)

Another installment of excellent translation notes from the wonderful @giniroangou, now fixing Acid Tokyo one chapter at a time.

Highlights include: the return of gratuitous exclamation marks, when a basement isn’t a basement, Improved Kurofai scene (oh my lord, it’s so much clearer, I’m so thrilled), justice for Nataku, Yuuko prices making more sense, and Mokona being Mokona.

Chapter 109

p.5 - “Strong” is the proper translation for Syaoran’s impression of Kamui, so I think this is just shounen manga nonsense, lol.

p.6 - The word translated as “game” here is just a katakana “e” (エ, pronounced “eh”.) It’s a made-up term and the lack of kanji strips it of all meaning until the manga gives us a bit more information, which I’ll elaborate on once we get there.

p.9 - I’m finding it hilarious now that “e” was translated but “ku” wasn’t, oh my god why. “Ku” is the word for a district or a ward.

p.23 - Since you were using these (understandably) as a basis for characterization, there are actually no exclamation points involved in any of the dialogue on this page. There are a couple sentences ending in “yo” so that comes close I guess but IDK, the gratuitous exclamation points in this translation are always going to bug me.

Chapter 110

p.40 - Fuuma’s “It looks like you don’t want to listen to reason,” was originally, “It looks like you’re not in the mood to hear me out,” which I feel makes a bit more sense.

Chapter 111

Cover Page - “The Capital of Water” is the original title of this chapter.

p.51 - Font note: Kakyo’s lines are not italicized in the Japanese version, but they’re bold and written in a slightly fancier font. Kusanagi’s on the next page are just bold.

p.52 - It might just be me, but the use of “basement” feels a bit odd here - the original word used is “chika” (地下), which can be used to refer to a basement, but also any other underground place - it literally just means “underground.”

p.56 - Fai’s translated line about Syaoran having been through some tough times sounds hilariously vague. In the original line he points out that it would be difficult for Syaoran to carry on like this (ie with an arrow sticking out of his leg.)

p.62-63 - The thread of this conversation gets a little lost in the translation. The point of it is, having an underground vein of water alone isn’t enough to save people here, given that the acid rain can penetrate the earth, so the reason why their water is so precious is because it’s beneath a building that’s relatively intact.

Chapter 112

p.73 - When Kurogane says that Fai’s reason for running is none of his business, he says “Ore ni wa kankei nee” (俺には関係ねぇ), which we’ll see repeated later in this scene. More literally this means, “It has nothing to do with me,” or to capture the full versatility of the phrase, “It doesn’t matter to me.” There’s the potential for this line to put distance between Kurogane and Fai, as the initial “none of my business” seems to do and as Fai first interprets it, but there’s also the potential for it to mean that Fai’s past is irrelevant to Kurogane’s current relationship with and perception of him.

p.74 - The phrase “Just now” in the translation was originally “ima no omae,” which is a bit awkward to convert to English but essentially means “the present you” or “the person you are now.” Kurogane is separating Fai’s more guarded past self from his current incarnation who shows genuine care for Sakura and Syoaran.

p.75 - The exception to Fai’s “not dying” rule isn’t dying for someone else, but dying because of someone else. Fai references their conversation in Koryo, but Kurogane shifts more towards their conversation in Outo, which was about Fai not valuing his life.

p.77 - The word that’s been translated as “unhappy” is “fukou” (不幸), which can mean unhappiness but also misfortune in a general sense. Basically Fai doesn’t want bad things to happen to anyone because of his involvement with them.

p.80 - In the Japanese text it’s a lot clearer that Kurogane isn’t really hurting Fai here (or at least that his protest isn’t genuine) - the ending of Fai’s “That hurts” is dragged out into the tone he uses when he’s saying something jokingly. Once again, this seems to be an unsuccessful attempt to distract from their conversation and lighten the mood. It’s quite likely that he’s trying to make Kurogane let go, but I don’t think pain is the reason.

The distinction I made earlier about “It doesn’t matter to me” comes into play here again. There’s a bit of a different ring to “Your past doesn’t matter to me” vs “Your past is no business of mine.” I think it’s also important to note that Fai’s shift from dismissive to shocked here is in response to Kurogane’s adjusted wording - he’s making sure Fai understands that in saying “It doesn’t matter,” he’s not saying that Fai himself doesn’t matter, but that it’s his past specifically and his past alone. Fai thought Kurogane was drawing a line between the two of them, when he was really drawing a line between Fai’s past and current lives.

p.81 - This is a VERY IMPORTANT line that will come up later, and I’m not sure how they handle that with this translation, but what Kurogane is actually saying here is more like, “Cut this shit out and resign yourself to who you are now.” The phrase he uses - a form of “hara wo kukuru” (腹を括る) - indicates steeling yourself to face something unpleasant; he recognizes how difficult this is for Fai, but still wants Fai to recognize how involved he’s become with their found family and accept that as his fate.

Chapter 113

p.98 - In the original text, Syaoran’s single-mindedness is on full display - he straight-up says he’s going because he might learn something about the feather instead of just treating it as an example.

p.99 - The phrase “don’t waste your strength” feels a bit off here - the sentiment should be more along the lines of “don’t push yourself.”

Kurogane literally finishes Fai’s sentence at the bottom of this page. The sentence order makes this very difficult to translate into English in a way that makes sense, but a direct translation would be (Fai) “That… Syaoran-kun…” (Kurogane) “It wasn’t.” forming the full sentence of, “That wasn’t Syaoran-kun.” Fai’s words appear to be hesitant with Kurogane confirming his suspicions, but the original scene gives a stronger sense of them being on the same page than the translation does.

Chapter 114

p.129 - Rest assured, Nataku’s gender identity is preserved in the original text. This is a common trend with CLAMP translations given the large number of characters confirmed or assumed to be non-binary, but often when you see a gendered pronoun in an English translation, there is no corresponding pronoun in the Japanese text. The Japanese language doesn’t require pronouns in many cases, and even when it does people often opt to use each other’s names instead. It’s a great language for non-binary folks, but this also means non-binary gender is very easy to miss unless there’s a point made of it in other dialogue. I assume most translators don’t really think much of assigning gendered pronouns that weren’t originally there simply because a lack of pronouns is so common in Japanese.

Chapter 115

p.139 - The wording in Kamui’s vow of protection reveals that he is protecting something living - he uses the word “iru” (居る) for living things rather than “aru” (有る) for inanimate objects.

p.141 - “I want/need to take it back” is a more appropriate translation for Syaoran’s lines here than “give it back.”

p.143 - Fai tells Mokona that just he and Syaoran will go on any future errands (the “or” was a mistranslation.) Basically he’s saying, “Don’t come with us next time,” in the nicest way possible.

Chapter 116

p.152 - We finally have a name for Xing-Huo! I can’t speak to the transliteration and Chinese meaning, but the exact katakana for her name’s pronunciation are “shin fo” (シンフォ) and it’s written with the kanji 星火, meaning “star” and “fire” respectively. (It looks like lots of great info already came out in the comments when you first read this chapter, but I’m keeping this here for completeness.)

p.153 - I would interpret Yuuko’s final line on this page as: “Those children, too, are like fragments of an unfulfilled dream.”

p.155 - The first price Yuuko lists, “Connections,” is “kankeisei” (関係性), the same word she used for Syaoran’s price at the beginning of the manga, translated at the time as “Your relationship.” This word can refer in a general sense to relations with others, hence the translation on this page, but in the Japanese version it’s a clear call-back to that earlier scene in which the word specifically indicated Syaoran’s relationship with Sakura.

p.156 - In case this needs clarification, when Yuuko says this is within the limits of her meddling, she means it falls within the extent that she’s able to interfere.

p.157 - Once again, “I have to give it back” should be, “I have to take it back.”

p.164 - For the curious, since this term shows up in various places, the word translated as “dream seer” is “yumemi” (夢見).

Omake

p.176 - Mokona saying she’s afraid of pork buns (“manjuu kowai”) is a reference to a well-known rakugo story in which a group of friends are sharing their fears and one of them admits with some embarrassment that he’s afraid of manjuu. His friends are so entertained by this that they decide to tease him by buying a whole bunch of manjuu and leaving them in his room. Though he vocally protests, his friends realize after a moment that he’s eating the manjuu. Acknowledging that they were tricked, they ask what he’s actually afraid of and he says, “Right now I’m scared of a cup of tea.” Aka Mokona is attempting to troll her family for food, in true Mokona style.

#I am so excited by so much of this #It's such a relief when Core Scenes make sense!!#its a miracle!#giniroangou #who is the actual best #liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #CONNECTIONS #vol 109 #vol 110 #vol 111 #vol 112 #vol 113 #vol 114 #vol 115 #vol 116 #omake

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impracticaldemon · 6 years ago

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Hijikata’s Holiday

by impracticaldemon for @nollatooru ~ from Your HakuSanta

fandom: Hakuouki words: 1500 (laugh track)(oops, no) ~ 5100 words read also on: AO3 | FFN [added December 27, 2018]

Author’s Note: This story is intended to take place in the winter after my story Do As I Say (also for nollatooru, so this isn’t just a shameless self-reference). I was thinking December 1865, which could work; however, although Itou and his faction joined the Shinsengumi in late 1864, they are not mentioned in this story. The word count was already out of hand with the original cast alone. Nollatooru requested Hijikata, HijiChi, Okita & cats, or anyone & cats. I’ve tried to deliver. Posted first on tumblr!

tags: @shell-senji @eliz1369 @rainylune @nalufever @petri808 @hidetheremote @resshiiram @kondo-hijikata @hakuyamazakisensei @flower-dragon @shibuemiyuu @writer-appreciation @sabinasanfanfic @eheartangel @hakuokisecretsanta2018

Hijikata’s Holiday

It started with an absence of noise. Still half-asleep, Hijikata turned puzzled eyes on the window screen. How odd. Judging by the light filtering through the thick paper, it was past dawn—in fact, it was past his usual time to get up. Today was a festival day, but that usually meant more of a clatter, not less. There wouldn't be captains and sub-officers nursing hangovers until tomorrow.

He sat up reluctantly. Winter in Kyoto was cold, and he felt no inclination to leave the warmth of his futon to go find out what could account for the strange silence. Given the time, he'd probably missed his chance to write, which dimmed what little enthusiasm he had for facing the chill weather, today's major and minor headaches—Sōji usually accounting for both—and the dinner meeting he had with the new Sub-Comptroller of Kyoto to discuss the Shinsengumi's urgent need for extra rations over the winter months.

It took several moments to register that the room wasn't cold. In fact, it was quite pleasant, if not precisely warm. A glance at the brazier told him that somebody had tended it during the night. The fact that he hadn't woken was worrisome, but he wasn't altogether surprised. He'd recognized the tea that Chizuru had brought him last night as Sannan's 'special' blend, which meant that it was laced with soporific. He would have objected, but the girl had poured it with a soft smile, and murmured that "Kondō-san sent his best regards, and would Hijikata-san please rest well this evening." The last time he'd refused the evil brew, Kondō had brought it himself, tricked him into drinking it, and then refused to let him work late for a week straight. (1)

A quick—and slightly apprehensive—look around the room gave him a modicum of reassurance that although somebody had been in his room, it was more likely Saitō than Sōji. He'd like to think that he'd have woken for anyone less familiar, or less soft-footed. The whole thing was idiotic anyway—what kind of military force gave their Vice Commander a sleeping draught?

Huh. He'd misplaced his inkstone yesterday, but now it was sitting on his desk. And... there was a small bowl containing an evergreen sprig and something leafy with red berries. He doubted—really doubted—that the arrangement was Saitō's. Not that the art of flower arrangement was necessarily beyond Saitō, but there was an air of subdued festivity about it... if there was such a thing. He refused to accept even the possibility that Sōji might have made it for him. For Kondō maybe. If he lost a bet. And even then, he'd cut the greenery with his sword.

It was quite a quite an attractive grouping, actually—

The enduring fir supports the crimson berry that braves winter's chill.

He was out of bed and reaching for his writing materials before he realized it. Well, damn. He glanced again at the window. Nobody had come for him yet—or been sent by Sannan, in a fit of hypocritical concern. The man had once told Yukimura to wake him, on the pretext that he was late for breakfast. He'd been dressing when she'd arrived, which had annoyed him and flustered the hell out of her. Although... her comments to herself in the immediate aftermath had been pretty funny, poor kid. Yeah, but you didn't mind the admiration, did you? He had found it very... honest... after the careful flattery of the Shimabara geisha, and the half-fearful simpering of the city girls.

Hijikata couldn't see, and would have denied, the reminiscent smile that hovered on his lips. Meanwhile, he had drawn his writing book from his desk, and was quickly preparing ink in the ceramic tray. Minutes passed, while he inscribed his new haiku. Satisfied, he set aside his materials, replaced the book under the patrol log kept on top in the (so far utterly vain) hope of keeping his hobby from prying eyes, and took out fresh linen and his carefully folded hakama.

He was half-way through changing when there was a polite "Shitsureisimasu, Hijikata-san, Yukimura desu," at the door. (2) For one, wild moment, he was overwhelmed with déjà vu, and some part of him contemplated not saying anything just to see what would happen. Happily—probably—the moment passed. A second, soft, "Hijikata-san?" got him out of his fugue.

"Just a moment, Yukimura." Then, impelled by the gods knew what: "Unless you'd prefer to come in while I'm dressing?"

There was a pause—the kind of pause that you can hear—and finally, "I will wait, Hijikata-san."

Unlike last time, there was a murmur of conversation, and he realized that somebody—presumably one of the captains, was with Yukimura. Annoyingly, that brought a touch of heat to his cheeks, but it faded quickly, and he stalked over to the door and slid it open with a snap.

It turned out that Yukimura had been expecting him to call her in. She was standing just outside the door, a tray with tea and breakfast—both still miraculously hot and steaming—clasped tightly in both hands. Thanks to her lack of inches, and his expectation that she'd be farther from the door, he saw Saitō before seeing Yukimura. …Not only Saitō. Yamazaki was there as well. They stood behind Yukimura on the engawa, looking for all the world like retainers to some under-dressed, underfed princeling.

"Saitō? Ohayo, Yukimura, Yamazaki."

Fortunately, Saitō didn't seem to mind, or care, that he'd been missed from Hijikata's "good morning." Indeed, Hijikata rarely found Saitō's lack of expression to be off-putting; most of the time he found it a welcome calm in the daily drama that running the Shinsengumi entailed.

"Ohayogozaimasu, Fukuchō. I will come in with Yukimura, if I may."

Hijikata stepped out of the way, but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to the garden beyond the wooden walkway. There was a fine layer of snow on everything, but it lay completely undisturbed, with the exception of the footprints of—presumably—his companions. He observed that Yamazaki had taken up a position not far from his door, but the whole morning was beginning to take on such a surreal aspect that he couldn't quite bring himself to ask about it just yet.

Once the men were seated opposite each other, and Yukimura had set down his breakfast tray—he felt his eyes widen a little at the carefully-prepared meal—Saitō began his report. Not that it was precisely a report, it was just that Saitō made everything sound like a report. He was a first-rate swordsman, and an excellent officer, but he couldn't tell an interesting story to save his life. Nagakura swore that he loosened up when he was talking to inanimate objects, but that only happened when he was very drunk, and Hijikata was rarely around for that kind of serious drinking these days.

"The Commander was concerned by your absence at dinner, Vice Commander. As you requested, I told him that you were speaking with officials at the Comptroller's office in order to set up a meeting to discuss the current shortage of rations."

"Did you remind him that the last load of rice we received was not only short-weighted, but full of freaking weevils?! We had to toss out four bags, and decontaminate the kitchen storage area!"

"Commander Kondō remembered the incident, Vice Commander."

"Excuse me, Hijikata-san—your tea. Saitō-san—your tea."

Hijikata automatically thanked Yukimura for filling his cup, then felt his brows contract inward—well, further inward—when he saw her look furtively at Saitō, who clearly blinked in return. It reminded him to pursue his original question, once he'd wrested back control of the conversation.

"You flirting with Yukimura now, Saitō? Didn't expect it from you."

"No, Vice Commander." Saitō left it at that, but Yukimura reddened and leapt at the bait.

"Oh no, Hijikata-san, o-of course not! But Kondō-san said that Saitō-san shouldn't let you get too worked up—I mean, too worried—about the rice, because—"

"Colonel Sannan has already agreed to pursue the matter on behalf of the Shinsengumi," interposed Saitō, in his uninflected voice. "He said that he would be delighted to attend the dinner meeting this evening."

"Delighted," muttered Hijikata.

"Sannan-san said that he hadn't had the chance to meet the new staff at the Imperial Comptroller's office. He truly did seem very pleased, Hijikata-san." Yukimura smiled cheerfully, and just as Hijikata was concluding that she had no idea how scary the soft-spoken man could be, she added thoughtfully, "I realize that the last official quit after Sannan-san investigated the Shinsengumi's rice allocation, but we didn't have problems for many months after, right?" Her expression had become unusually serious. "Sannan-san said he would do whatever was necessary to protect the needs of our men, and Kondō-san agreed that healthy food was very important."

Hijikata risked a look at Saitō, who met his gaze without comment. Yukimura could be surprisingly fierce when it came to looking after the Shinsengumi, and Hijikata should have remembered that she'd taken the latest food shortage to heart.

"Fine. But why are you two here explaining all this to me anyway?" He gave them both a 'don't mess with me' look, or tried to. Chizuru was too busy pouring him more tea to notice—she had a way of making it just the right temperature from the start, so that he tended to finish it quickly.

"The Commander suggested that you would appreciate a holiday," said Saitō. "Yukimura, Sōji, and I were given the task of ensuring that you are able to enjoy the day." Being Saitō, he stopped there, having expressed the salient point.

"A holiday?! No, wait—Sōji is supposed to make sure that I enjoy a holiday?" Hijikata automatically looked around for the green-eyed… man. Menace to my existence is more like it… Not even Kondō would expect Sōji to—well maybe—no, surely not?

"Hai. Along with Yukimura and myself." It took Hijikata a moment to recollect himself and realize that Saitō was answering his question.

"But everyone is helping out," Yukimura rushed to reassure him. If 'reassure' was the right word. "Kondō-san was worried when you missed dinner—as Saitō-san mentioned—because it was the third time this week." Hijikata thought there was a disapproving edge to her voice, but her expression was as sweet and earnest as ever, gods help him.

"Yukimura noted the frequency of your absences," murmured Saitō, gazing down into his tea.

"R-right! But Sannan-san agreed to go to the dinner, and Nagakura-san and Harada-san said they'd conduct an early morning patrol today, and no drills, so that nobody would be around this morning—but also because it makes sense to check that things are safe for the holiday crowds—"

"Uh-huh." Fascinated despite himself, Hijikata began to calmly eat his breakfast. The room was warm enough that his delicately flavoured miso soup was still remarkably hot. It was obvious that Sōji's help—whatever it was—hadn't extended to breakfast, thank the gods.

"And I asked Heisuke-kun if he'd be willing to hunt ducks or geese this morning so that I could make us all a nice holiday dinner later this afternoon before everyone goes out for the evening. He thought that was a great idea until—um…" Yukimura suddenly stopped talking.

"Sōji reminded Heisuke of the last time that we shared a meal of Yukimura's duck hot pot." All three people present shared a moment of silence as they each visualized Heisuke's piece of duck flying through the air and hitting Hijikata square in the middle of the forehead. It had not gone well for the cheerful Eighth Division Captain after that.

"Y-yes, well, Okita-san just said that this was Heisuke's chance to make up for it, and so—and so, that's all settled!"

"Really, now?" Hijikata couldn't quite visualize how such a comment would settle anything, but he was willing to bet he would find out.

"I needed to discuss a scheduling issue with Sōji at that point, and I believe that Yukimura arranged any further details with Heisuke, Vice Commander."

"I see. So Harada and Nagakura just happened to volunteer for an early patrol—"

"That is correct, Vice Commander."

"And Heisuke's off hunting ducks, or geese—are you sure he'll be safe? The marsh area is very cold this time of year." Heisuke was a lot tougher than he looked, but he was also a magnet for disaster—according to his own view of things. Most people felt he invited disaster in with open arms, although he was ably aided and abetted by his brothers in idiocy.

"Shimada-san went with him, Hijikata-san. He said that he would be happy to spend time out bird-hunting with Heisuke-kun. I made sure to pack them a good lunch, and I included a few sweetened rice cakes."

Saitō didn't bother to elaborate on this, since Shimada was known for his love of sweets, and was very fond of Yukimura. He also adored Kondō, and had probably stepped in quite willingly to help out with this wild scheme to "give" Hijikata a holiday.

"I'm still a little puzzled on a few points," Hijikata said, with an air of polite inquiry. Like, what the hell is Sōji up to?

"I made sure that this courtyard was secure overnight," noted Saitō placidly.

"Oh—oh yes. And Yamazaki-san will be on duty this morning. To… to make sure that the courtyard remains secure—and peaceful, as is proper for a holiday."

"Needed to get some use out of the scarf, Saitō? Or did it dawn on somebody that leaving me defenseless to assassins for the sake of a few hours of sleep was less than optimal?"

Yukimura looked suitably concerned by the mention of assassins, but Saitō obviously felt that he had already dealt with that topic. He addressed Hijikata's first question with no trace of the sarcasm with which it had been asked.

"I was adequately equipped for the cold. The Commander allocated me extra coal for a brazier." Saitō bowed. "Please excuse me, Vice Commander. Sōji and I will be sparring together this morning over at the Mibu Temple grounds, and then we plan to visit a swordsmith who is reputed to be better than average at sharpening blades."

"You won't be sticking around Saitō? What will Yukimura do if I suddenly try to exert myself by doing my job?"

Saitō said nothing, and Hijikata finally relented and waved at him to go. Yukimura was very slowly tidying his now-empty tray.

"Since I have my writing things, am I at least allowed to get through some of my back-log of reports?"

Yukimura shook her head, looking anxious, but determined.

"Kondō-san asked me to bring him your list of reports to be filed."

"And?" How did Yukimura even know that he had that list, or where to look? Although technically she was his page, and these days she managed to spend some of her time running errands for him, despite his original plans for her (or lack thereof).

"He said that only the marked items were to be dealt with today." She brought out a piece of scrap paper—his scrap paper—and handed it to him.

There were only two marked items, and one of them had clearly been added by Kondō: 'finish summary of important points to make perfectly clear to the goat-fucking asswipes at the comptroller's office'—that hadn't been meant for Kondō's eyes! Or Yukimura's, now that he considered it—and 'buy a new coat'. Seriously? Buy a new coat? They needed food! And they were still dealing with the reputation as deadbeats foisted on them by the late, unlamented Serizawa Kamo.

"Yukimura."

"Hai!"

"Did you see this list?"

She obviously had. It showed in little ways—such as how she was practically staring at the admittedly threadbare haori he'd brought with him from Edo. But if he didn't let its condition bother him, then what was the problem?

"Kondō-san told me which items to point out to you, Hijikata-san."

"I don't need a new coat. The coat I have is fine. And when I'm out on patrol I've got my blues."

"You never wear your coat when you go out, Hijikata-san, even though you dislike the cold."

"I don't mind the cold."

There was a long silence, during which both combatants reconsidered their tactics. As a junior, and a subordinate, Yukimura should not contradict Hijikata. Or as a woman, especially since she wasn't his wife. Another good reason not to get married, as if I needed another one. Anyway, it had been tactically unsound for Yukimura to say that he disliked the cold. A true warrior didn't let the elements bother him, and he knew that she didn't want to offend him.

"…Hijikata-san?"

"Yes, Yukimura?" He held out his cup for more tea, feeling that he could be gracious in victory.

"I asked Kondō-san whether it would alright for me to improve your old—I mean, current—coat, by adding a new lining."

"You asked Kondō-san? But why—" Hijikata broke off, perturbed.

"Well, Kondō-san and Inoue-san were discussing the time you all spent together at Shiei Hall, as they sometimes do, after dinner two nights ago, and I happened to be cleaning up the dining hall, and Kondō-san asked me if you still had the haori you used to like so much. I asked him what it looked like, just to be sure, and then Inoue-san described it, and he told me that it was made especially for you by a good tailor, and that you were very fond of it."

Hijikata resisted the urge to smack his hand into his face, but it was a near thing. Unfortunately, Yukimura continued on, nearly tripping over her words as she tried to get it all out.

"And I was surprised to hear that, because you never wear that coat, so I asked Kondō-san if maybe I should fix it up a little, but Inoue-san said that you preferred to wear nice clothes, that weren't patched, and then Kondō-san agreed. So I suppose that's where it all started." She was slightly breathless, but added: "And even if you don't mind the cold, I worry that if you don't wear a coat in this weather, then you will get sick."

Many words floated through Hijikata's head, mostly unprintable. He drew a deep breath, and tried to ignore the half-anxious, half-stubborn look on Yukimura's face that always reminded him of—oh, his sister, his sister-in-law, his aunt, and the countless other women he'd grown up with. It didn't work, so he reined in his temper—because at the end of the day he was a practical man—and turned and examined his old coat. The truth was that he didn't wear it because it looked shabby, and fucking Serizawa—he rarely thought that name without an epithet—had been right about appearances, but he really didn't like being cold, even if he wouldn't say so.

"So I'm supposed to buy a new coat?"

"Yes?"

"Because to hell with rice, you're worried I'll get a cold?" He was giving in, but determined to go down fighting.

"Sannan-san will deal with the rice situation, I believe in him. Also, he is taking Okita-san with him this time."

"…As long as they don't tell me where they hide the bodies."

"Hijikata-san?" Yukimura had that reproving look again. "Okita-san said that he would smile and be very polite. He knows that we don't want you to worry."

He stared at her, but she seemed genuinely confident about the whole thing.

"And is that Okita's contribution to my, ah, day off?"

"Okita-san said that he wanted to help in any way that he could."

"Uh-huh."

"And Saitō-san said that the best way to help would be to stay out of the compound."

"Good man. I'd give him a raise, but I need to buy a new coat."

"…Yes? So I'll go get ready then?" Yukimura looked both relieved and pleased.

Hijikata debated telling her that he could damn well shop for a coat on his own. But the look on her face… She'd be crushed, probably, and he had a feeling that Kondō had already told her to go with him. So for her sake, and Kondō's—since they'd obviously spent so much effort on all this—he'd take her along. She'd slow him down by staring at all the people in town for the festival, but he'd manage. And if he was going to spend the money it would cost for a decent coat, then he could afford to spend just a little on a couple of sweets for her, and maybe a small souvenir.

"Right—go get ready, and I'll meet you at the gate. I need to add a couple of things to this memo for Sannan-san on the… rice situation." And I want to tell him to make damn sure Sōji doesn't 'accidentally' kill anyone.

"Hai!" Yukimura immediately stopped fussing with the tray, and hurried off as though Hijikata might change his mind if she didn't leave fast enough.

Chizuru spent a blissful morning and early afternoon out shopping with Hijikata. She made sure not to talk too much—although Hijikata-san didn't seem to mind her questions, for once—and she tried not to skip—something that Okita-san had teased her about in the past when she'd been excited about leaving Shisengumi headquarters—and whenever they stopped to look at coats she tried to remember to behave like a boy, and not a girl. She was extremely embarrassed when one shopkeeper told her that she obviously admired the Vice Commander a great deal, but that he, for one, didn't think that boys should be recruited so young.

They saw both Harada's and Nagakura's patrols in the distance a few times, but somehow, they never actually crossed paths with one. Even Chizuru began to suspect that this was not just by chance (or mischance). Fortunately, Hijikata-san seemed to find it amusing, so it didn't turn into a problem.

Eventually, Hijikata-san chose a coat. Or rather, he chose a style, and a material, and paid to have a coat made for him, which impressed Chizuru a great deal. After that, they stopped at a shop for tea, and although Chizuru meant to serve the tea, Hijikata-san said not to bother, so she didn't. He said that if others found it strange for the Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi to stoop to having tea and snacks with his page, then so be it.

"I suppose you should get back so that you can cook dinner," said Hijikata, when they left the tea shop. "Although it's optimistic of you to believe that Heisuke can catch anything but a cold. I predict you'll be trying to find yet another way to cook salted fish."

"Heisuke caught two excellent ducks last time."

"Ah, but flailing around in the water I can see. It's the patience required for winter hunting that I'm not so sure about."

Chizuru firmly quelled a momentary qualm or two. "He'll be fine. He has Shimada-san with him. They'll come back safe and sound, with food."

"Hm. Well, Shimada is very reliable; but he's with Heisuke, so who knows what will happen."

When they eventually returned to headquarters, they discovered that they were both wrong, or alternately, both right. Heisuke had caught not one, but two birds—migrating geese—and poor Shimada had slipped and fallen into the swampy muck. The big man brightened up considerably when Heisuke assured him that nobody needed to know about the incident—other than Chizuru, who wouldn't tell—because he could keep his mouth shut, and knew what it was like to be teased by certain people who should be kinder to their fellow officer. Chizuru declined Heisuke’s help with dinner, but praised him so effusively for catching the geese that he left to warm up in excellent spirits.

Harada and Nagakura popped their heads into the kitchen part-way through the afternoon, to say that all was well, and that Hijikata was sitting calmly at his desk writing—though whether it was personal correspondence, or work, they didn't know. Chizuru bowed to both of them, and thanked them earnestly for their hard work that morning. They exchanged knowing looks over her bent head—they'd seen her out and about that morning—and when she straightened, they were both grinning affectionately at her. As tired out as she was from all the walking, and now the dinner preparations, she had to smile back.

"He was in a damn good mood just now, Chizuru-chan," Nagakura told her, "so maybe we're the ones who owe you—he even said not to worry about curfew tonight." He paused in the act of turning away, to add, "Although I still don't know how you kept Sōji out of his hair all day, especially when he was so annoyed over the whole coat thing, and Kondō-san fussing about Hijikata-san not coming to dinner."

"Um, I—I'm not sure what you mean."

She looked so uncomfortable that Harada grabbed his friend's bicep and hauled him away. "Come on, Shin—let's go congratulate Heisuke on providing dinner without either getting hurt, or ticking off the boss."

"Yeah, fine, but you're curious too, Sano."

Their voices trailed away, and Chizuru turned back to her cooking, feeling relieved. She'd promised not to tell, and even if Okita-san thought he was just threatening her, she knew it was very important to keep her promises to him. And he had been a bit upset over Kondō-san saying that Hijikata-san should have a new coat. She didn't completely understand why Hijikata-san and Okita-san didn't get along, since both of them cared so much about Kondō-san and the Shinsengumi, but for now it was enough that she was learning not to be so alarmed by their disagreements.

In the few minutes of quiet time after dinner was prepared, and before it needed to be served, Chizuru took advantage of Inoue-san's offer to watch over things, and slipped away to a smallish gardening shed near the wall of the courtyard. The door slid open before she could knock, and Saitō pulled her quickly inside.

"They're all fine," he said, tilting his head toward the back of the shed.

There against the wall, and carefully concealed from the door by a rack of large burlap sacks, was a kind of nest made up of discarded rags and soft paper. In the center sat a thin black cat with a white muzzle and a white belly. It couldn't be called an attractive cat, since one eye was swollen shut, and it appeared to be missing part of one ear. The four kittens nestled around it—or rather, her—didn't seem to care. They mewled and gently bumped her with their heads, and periodically peered around her legs at the quiet, green-eyed man who was holding out a dish of meat scraps to her.

"It's quite a feast you got her, Chizuru-chan," commented Sōji, watching as the black cat delicately picked out another morsel of goose innard. "Just what she needed."

"I'm glad she's doing better, Okita-san. And oh—the kittens are so sweet!"

"Oi, don't move so fast, or they'll run again. They're not too quick, but it's a pain to catch them, and then mama here fusses."

"Sumimasen, Okita-san." Chizuru put her hands behind her back to keep herself from scooping up one of the fuzzballs for a cuddle.

"Ehn, it's okay—they'll probably be more up to playing tomorrow, ne, Neko-sama?"

Chizuru laughed a little, then quickly covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, Okita-san, but she doesn't look much like a court lady…"

Okita shook his head at her. "You shouldn't be so quick to judge, Chizuru-chan—you don't look much like a lady either, you know."

"Um… that's true, I suppose."

"Anyway, she's a fighter, like the onna-bugeisha."

Chizuru just nodded. She wasn't especially familiar with the women warriors of the samurai caste families, and she still thought the mother cat looked more like street fighter than a noble lady. Not that Chizuru minded, though. She thought the little family needed all the help they could get—and if Okita-san wanted to look after them, then she would help Okita-san.

"Yukimura must return to the house, Sōji. And Sannan-san will be expecting you soon."

"I know, I know." Okita turned to Chizuru.

"You promise to come by with food again later? I don't want to leave any because I don't know if she's up to handling another fight right now."

"I promise."

"And you'll check the water?"

"Hai!"

"Sōji."

"Fine, fine. But we have a deal, right, Chizuru-chan? You don't tell anyone, and you help me look after them while it's so cold."

"It's a deal, Okita-san. And I haven't told anyone."

"Well, I guess we'll see how it goes."

Okita stood up and stretched, his green eyes glinting in the faint lantern light. He almost asked about Hijikata's new coat, but then decided it wasn't worth it. He'd gotten to save the cats—plus a chance to go out with Sannan-san, which might be entertaining, although there were sure to be some dull bits—and Chizuru and Kondō-san were happy, so… he could let it go. Besides, the spar with Saitō had gone well, and he hadn't felt too out of breath, for once.

"Okay, oyasumi, neko-sama."

They all filed out of the shed, careful and quiet in the cold, dark courtyard. And if Hijikata happened to see them returning to the house, and happened to check in the shed before going in to dinner, well, almost nobody knew about it. The one silent observer had been aware of the whole thing from the start, having watched the various comings and going of the headquarters' inhabitants throughout the day. However, since Saitō-san already knew about it, and Hijikata-san didn't seem inclined to interfere—had even appeared to be smiling, just now—Yamazaki certainly had no need to do more than wish, very briefly, that he too were getting a new coat.

End Notes:

(1) See Do As I Say (not just shameless self-referencing, since nollatooru did say she'd enjoy another similar story!)

(2) "Excuse me, Hijikata-san, it's Yukimura"

A/Note: As always, your comments and reviews are very much appreciated. Please never think "I have nothing interesting to say." While a detailed review is a wonderful, precious thing, you can make an author's day with a simple "This was great!" or "Thanks, really enjoyed this!" or even "Eep!" Knowing you're out there, and enjoying my work helps so much! (To those on tumblr: yes, I read all the tags)

I'm taking the time to say this now, because I'm seeing fewer reviews and comments than ever, whether it's on tumblr, FFN, or AO3. I know it can be hard to figure out what to say, but if you can find a minute or two to type some positive feedback, it can help a writer to want to write again. And if you have constructive criticism, or you've seen a typo? All the authors I know, myself included, are grateful for that kind of feedback as well, although it's even better if you can do it directly by private message or something similar.

Note to reviewers/ those who comment: I try to write back to everyone, but it's taking me longer these days. If I haven't written back, I sincerely apologize. If you comment on Anon or Guest, I can’t write back directly, but thank you! Please know that all of your feedback is important to me, regardless.

#hakuouki #haku fanfiction #hijikata toshizo #hijichi #hakuokiss #impracticaldemon #imp writes #nollatooru #haku gift exchange 2018 #i hope you enjoy it!#i enjoy your art and sketches and comics so much!

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