#its not like a huge thing that strains their relationship and makes it unbearable to watch

[tickettride]

My girl || J.D.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x f!reader

in which you've felt johnny drifting away from you for weeks. for once, you accept playing pool with one of the newbies at the bar. a little fun has never hurt anyone. the thing is, johnny doesn't seem to enjoy it as much as you do.

word count: 2,8k

warnings: angst, strained relationship, drinking, slight violence, comfort and smut (happy ever after, y'know?)

The familiar hum of chatter filled your ears as you leaned against a wall, nursing your drink. The bikeriders’ meeting place was packed that night, and you had lost count of how many men had brushed up against you to get your attention. At least those who knew you were Johnny’s girl wouldn’t try anything, so you were a bit safe.

You weren’t particularly close to that world, where men drank until they passed out and violence had its own rules. You’d have rather gone out to the movies with friends or stayed home watching TV. You didn’t belong here. 

At the start of your relationship with Johnny–when everything was easy and pretty–you had been worried about having different interests. But it wasn’t bad, was it? It made the conversations at home more lively. Johnny would tell you about his day at work while you cooked something, and he would listen to your blabbering as you sat on the couch. It had become the routine. At least, when he talked to you.

With your pop in hand, you tried to catch his gaze. It felt like you had taken a huge step backward in your relationship. Now, Johnny was too tired to ask about your day. He barely looked at you. And the main reason was the very sight in front of you. 

The club. 

Johnny was drifting further away from you every day, and there was nothing you could do besides trying to hold his hand a little longer when you could. There was this superpower force pushing him away from you, no matter how hard you pulled. Every day, the same questions made you uneasy. Had we moved in together too fast? Shouldn’t he have proposed by then? Is there someone else in his life?��It wasn’t like you could tell him to leave the club aside for some time. This whole thing was his life.

Your second anniversary was in two days, and you weren’t even sure he’d remember. 

Without warning, warmth brushed your side. One of the new guys–blond buzzcut and cute smile–was towering above you. It would have been intimidating had he not been leaving a step or two between you both. Clever one, you thought. 

“Wanna try to beat me?” he asked you, and by the time you had registered his question, looking like an idiot, he had already repeated himself.

“Oh, um,” your gaze narrowed to the pool table, clearing your throat as it started to burn. “Why not. Yeah.”

You usually weren’t the kind to mingle with the men, but this time you really needed to be distracted from everything. Before the guilt pounding behind your breastbone became unbearable, you followed the guy to the pool table, where a few men were already gathered. 

Discomfort nipped at your edges as you stood there, tightening your grip over your drink. You greeted those you hadn’t seen quickly, not knowing what to do.

“Charlie,” the blond guy introduced himself, shouting in your ear. 

You gave him your name back, finally making a move to set your drink down on a table nearby.

“What do I get if I win?” Charlie asked, handing you a cue. 

You chuckled, and suddenly your chest started feeling a bit lighter. When was the last time you had fun? 

“What d’you want?” you replied with a quick shrug, breaking eye contact when you realized how flirty this sounded. 

“A kiss,” Charlie didn’t hesitate. “On the cheek, if you’d rather.”

“Right. I’m Johnny’s girl.”

With a raise of his eyebrows, Charlie invited you to start. You doubted he would give it a response or care, so you moved to the end of the table and inhaled sharply as you bent to take your first shot. 

“Ya won’t hit it from that angle,” he interrupted, pointing at the cue ball. “Ya need to move over there, see?"

“Is is obvious that I’ve only played once before?” you straightened, beaming at his burst of laughter. "I’m so bad at this."

“Nah. You’re okay,” Charlie rounded the table to stand beside you. Close. “Want me to start instead?”

Perhaps it was universe, or something linked to that superpower you often thought of. That thing beckoned you to glance over the tables against the wall. Johnny was watching you, his glass frozen against his lips. 

You imagined running your hands through his hair and feeling his muscles flexing under your touch. Asking him for things you had never had the guts to ask before. Bend you over the pool table. 

For a moment, you wondered if he could read your mind. You averted your gaze, reminding yourself of how distant he was. Even sex couldn’t fix things up. 

You heard a low whistle as the white ball hit the grouped balls with a sharp stroke. The men’s loud chatter brought you back to reality, in which Charlie was waiting for you to shoot. 

“Woah,” you forced a smile, although you hadn’t seen anything. “Bet I can do better.”

“Yeah?” Charlie grinned back, looking at you like he could eat you on the spot. "I can help if ya need.”

You imagined his hands on his waist, and suddenly you wanted to stop and go home. For real this time. Too uncomfortable to admit it, you willed yourself to get a grip on yourself and blamed your sheepishness. If you ended this quickly, you could go back to Johnny’s table.

“I should be fine.”

Bending again, you mustered all your concentration and tried hard to ignore Johnny’s hot gaze on you, as well as Charlie’s.

From his spot, your man probably had a very straight, public view of your bra. 

“C’mon,” you muttered to yourself, right before getting one ball into the far corner pocket with a smooth, hard stroke. 

“Look at that!" Charlie exclaimed, brushing a hand against your lower back as he slipped to the other side. “That was good.”

His enthusiasm almost made you smile.

“Uh-huh,” was all you said, locking eyes with Johnny again.

Nerves crawled through your veins as you felt Charlie’s hand again, this time poking your side playfully. 

“Hey, don’t go all sad on me. Ya can still beat me.”

No, but Johnny might.

Under the heat of his stare, you tried not to shrivel. You didn’t even know if you wanted to kiss him or make a run for it. That attitude–giggling with other men–was something you had never done before. Clearly, he hated that. And you, it made your heart pick up pace. Was it how it was between you now? Making each other jealous to get some attention?

Sitting uneasy at the table, Johnny didn’t think he owned you or anything. He just couldn’t stand the idea of someone treating you with less respect than you deserved. Getting physical wasn’t the solution–he was well aware, as you’d already warned him about it once–but he wanted to show you he had your back no matter what. Those young guys didn’t even give a fuck about getting to know you properly. How would they know you loved flowers more than anything else?

“What’s up?” Charlie asked, so close to your ear you smelled the booze on his tongue. 

You slightly shifted backward, pretended to be focused on the game. “Nothin’.”

Your hand sweated against the cue as you saw Johnny pushing his chair back and striding over to you from the corner of your eye. It was only when he stood at the other end of the table that you saw those dark, suspicious eyes. They glanced at you, and back at the man standing proudly.

“I suggest ya take your hand off her now,” Johnny feigned nonchalance, resting both hands on the table.

You didn’t miss the second glance at your lips. Beside you, Charlie replied, but you were barely listening. Your mind was still stuck on the idea of touching Johnny and hearing him say that he didn’t like when guys got too close to you. That you were the only one. Deep down, you knew it was closer to insecurity than lust.

Even your name had never sounded so sensual coming from his lips. It snapped you out of whatever dreaming haze you had been in, finally making you move away. 

“I guess we both lost,” you tried to lighten the mood, shooting Charlie a quick look. 

It was useless. His attention was tethered to Johnny as he moved to get closer. Their mouths moved, but you could no longer hear what they were saying over the roaring of your ears. Something about your right to be playing, and Johnny’s response about doing whatever the fuck you wanted to do. You didn’t dwell on the semantics. Charlie had clearly had a drink or two already, and the flush in his cheek only made you assume the worst. He would get physical, and it would be over for Johnny.

“If she can’t be left on her own, then maybe you’ve got somethin’ to worry ‘bout,” Charlie pointed out, glaring at Johnny like he wasn’t afraid of throwing a punch first. 

“What?” an offended gasp left your mouth, confused by his sudden aggressivity. 

You’d never understand men. The sight of him turning from a sweetheart with a bright smile to an evil jerk calling you a whore was jarring. 

“Not sure I get it,” Johnny replied, calm as ever. “What are ya callin’ her exactly?”

“Dunno,” Charlie didn’t lower his gaze as he retorted instantly. “The bitch’s been flirtin’ with me, and I’m in the wrong?”

You froze on the spot, knowing if you talked, an embarrassing sound would come out. Or maybe you would slap him.

The lights cast the area in dim light, and yet it was bright enough to see the flicker of red behind Johnny’s gaze. Time for you to step in.

“Listen to me,” Johnny was somehow nose-to-nose with the younger guy. “She’s under my protection. Right? She can do whatever she wanna do, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let a shithead like ya touch her the way ya did.”

“Yeah? She didn’t seem to complain ‘bout my hands earlier.”

You cringed at the words they were exchanging, although none of them truly gave a damn about the men listening in.

Before you could even blink, Johnny had backed him up against the wall, pressing so hard the guy gasped in a breath.

A curse left your lips as you rushed forward, trying to pull him away. “No, no, no. Let him go.”

“Say one more word about her, ‘n I’ll cut your dick out ‘n feed it to the dogs,” Johnny said, pretending not to hear or feel you, something violent spreading through his veins. “Next time I see ya anywhere close to her, I’ll kill ya. Understood?”

You were glad Charlie kept silent, swallowing harshly as he gave Johnny a death glare. You hadn’t noticed Benny until now, waiting for a sign to step into the fight. He gave you a quick look, and you tried to reassure him with a quick smile. Like Yep! He’s going to kill him but life’s good. 

“Fuckin’ wanker,” Johnny inhaled sharply as he let go of him, stepping backward.

You only figured Charlie didn’t fire back right away because he was being pulled away by two bulky men. He probably wouldn’t even remember after some sleep. 

Putting a cigarette between his lips, Johnny yanked the door of the bar open before body slamming his way into the small crowd gathered before the bikes. You were trying to follow closely, getting frustrated at all the fucking people on your way, stomping over feet and puddles. 

“Johnny!” you yelled as he made it to his car, his arm stiff as board on his side, his fist and his jaw clenched. “Hey!”

You’d seen him mad as hell once or twice, but never like that. He usually threatened guys calmly, like the boss he was. Losing his composure in front of the men–it had never happened. Dense fog swirled in the air, obscuring your view, so you nearly glued your body to his to have a good look at his expression. You were glad he hadn’t chosen his bike tonight. You hated it when he rode in a bad mood. 

The night was calm, the men having already dispersed or made their way back inside. Tire noises and sirens were steady in the background, but even louder than that was the way he said, “What?”. Like you were getting riled up out of nowhere.

The air settled around you, as though everyone had left to let you discuss. A pit of guilt burned in your stomach, but you couldn’t help but feel mad. 

“What the fuck just happened?”

Johnny huffed. “Ya wanted me to let him grope ya?”

You almost rolled your eyes. “Lighten up. He was… really respectful at first. If I’d wanted to, I’d have left.”

“Where to?”

“We were in a bar, Johnny. Not a stadium. I’d have figured my way out. And you knew this guy just wanted to fight anyways. That’s all he was lookin’ for.”

His lack of response pissed you off. Johnny blew the smoke away from your face, and you weren’t sure if he kept silent because he was still maddened or because he didn’t want to have this conversation with you.

“I’m not the dummy you think I am,” you added, spurred on by his eyes trained on you. “I appreciate you standin’ up for me, but–”

“But what?” he cut you off, a bit of smoke mixing with your air.

“But I don’t want to get your attention only when you’re jealous.”

Johnny glanced over at the bar’s entrance, where a couple was making out against a bike. “Bullshit.”

“Do you even love me anymore?”

Thick tension rolled off him, sucking all the air until you were left breathless, putting a shaking hand over your heart. It wouldn’t slow down. Not until he told you the truth. 

“Do I love ya?” Johnny kept his gaze on you, reading your face like you were high or something. “I could have killed a guy for ya in there, ‘n you’re askin’ me if I love ya?”

“Well, it’s not been very obvious lately,” you hissed as you remembered how he had barely greeted you the night before. “You haven’t kissed me in three days, Johnny. You… you could barely keep your hands off me at the beginnin’–”

“Jesus,” he mumbled, stamping out his cigarette to grab your face between his palms. “Look at me. I’m sorry ‘bout that, alright?”

Your face scrunched up, but you managed to suppress the tears.

“What’s goin’ on?” you asked. “I thought we were havin’ something beautiful, and now, shit, we barely talk. You barely touch me.”

Johnny swallowed, finally coming to the realization that the situation was worse than he’d imagined. 

“I’m sorry. Ya hear me? I’m sorry I’ve been leavin’ ya out. The club’s been draining me lately.”

Your eyes softened, a hand coming to rest upon his cradling on your cheek. “Talk to me, then. I was startin’ to think you were tired of me.”

Johnny frowned. “Fuck, no. I need ya.”

Your heart squeezed as the steady breeze made you shiver. “I miss you so much it breaks my heart.”

“I’m here,” he kissed a corner of your lips. “I promise I’m here.”

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. 

“Say it again,” you breathed. “I can’t stand stayin’ away from you. Not talkin’ to you all the time.”

A thumb ran across your lips with the perfect roughness. “I promise I’m not goin’ anywhere. Ya want me to take a few days off?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m not sure we can afford this.”

“We can. I’ll rent somethin’ cute and we’ll celebrate our anniversary. Just the two of us. What d’ya think?”

A small but sincere smile pulled at your lips. God, you loved him. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

The next second, he was kissing you until you couldn’t breathe anything but him. His palms skimmed up the backs of your thighs as you stood on your tiptoes. Without warning, he pulled back to look at you, that spark in his gaze mirroring yours. 

“C’mon. I’m not fuckin’ you here.”

Relief and a spike of heat ran through your veins during the ride home. His warm hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it gently until he parked in front of the garage door. The silence only fuelled you, playing with your patience. 

He quite literally glued himself to your back while you tried to unlock the front door, cursing at yourself for your trembling hands. 

And finally, finally, he apologized with slow strokes of his cock and kisses on your breasts. Your clothes had been thrown aside haphazardly, abandoned in the heat of the moment. You had thought he would make you come like this, but he instructed you to roll over and lay on your stomach, and who were you to refuse? Those weeks apart, even when you had been in the same house and bed, had left you both pent up, wanting and missing each other more than anything else in the world. You didn’t even know how you had managed to stay silent this whole time. 

“Shit. I love you,” you moaned, eyes screwed shut as he kissed up your spine, his hips flexing in time to make sure he was fucking you as deep as he could.

Exhaustion hit you like a train, and it felt so heavenly lying there as he whispered that you meant the world to him.

“So pretty,” Johnny mumbled, his words muffled as he nipped at the sensitive skin between your shoulder blades, “Got me so hard just from lookin’ at ya, sweets.”

You fisted the sheets and dug your nose in the pillow when you came, and Johnny quickly followed. He stilled on top of you, his chain sitting on your back and shining in the cold light pouring through the window. 

“Gimme one minute and I’ll fuck ya again, right?” he breathed in your ear, making you grin against the pillow. 

From that day on, he always did as he said. A small house was rented in the woods, and you spent your second anniversary making love, promising each other the truth.

[babygirldennis]

im sure this has been pointed out before but... mac is literally dennis systeming dennis

[cloudenthusiast2]

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 5

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 4

Length: not too long:)

Trigger warnings: blood, fighting

You slowly opened your eyes.

The clouds that were orange and pink not so long ago now had turned dark along with the sky.

You've just realised how long you have been sitting on the cliff.

The chilly weather suddenly felt genuinely cold and a shiver ran down your spine. You wore light clothes not suited for a night in Liuye's mountains.

'I should start heading back' you thought. But you didn't move.

A few days have passed since Scaramouche left but it still felt like the wound he caused was wide open. You avoided every interaction with others and luckily they were considerate enough to let you be. No one gave you requests or tasks, they dealt with their problems themselves so you could be alone for a while.

A little guilt stung your chest. You said you would always protect them yet you were selfish enough to only think about yourself for days.

On the other hand, you also felt a little burnout. You still loved the village as much as you used to - maybe even more, now that it was the only thing left that you cared about - but you didn't want to go back to your previous way of living. Even though Scaramouche wasn't a part of your daily routine, everything felt so empty without him. Just thinking about him made you smile any time and you could always look forward to his visits. And when he was actually there, he made everything feel shiny and wonderful.

He sure was the grumpiest man but that just made his soft moment worth even more. How delighted you felt when he laughed at your stupid jokes or gave you a smile that wasn't teasing or (too) smug. When he first held your hand you couldn't stop grinning for days.

You let out a quiet chuckle as you remembered your beautiful memories together. For a few seconds the grief was gone with your smile but when it finally faded away the sorrow became even sharper in your heart.

But it actually wasn't that painful any more. It still hurt really deeply but now you could at least think of the benefits of the new situation.

Something that you always hated about being with Scara was that the village lived in a low-key but constant fear. They were all afraid of the fatui. And for a good reason, as you realised after their last visit.

Now you could at least keep them more safe. They didn't have to be afraid of your lover and his power any more.

You stared at the dark sky one last time then shook your head. You stood up, getting ready to head back to the village but your mind was still invaded by thoughts of Scara.

The rocks under your shoes jingled as you took a step forward.

Another step, another sound of them tinkling together.

Another step and a scream.

You flinched and immediately glanced at the rocks. But they weren't the ones making the desperate sound.

You stared in front of you, your mind numb and empty without any thoughts.

Another scream. Human voices strengthening and getting louder and louder in the distance.

You looked up slowly, turning your gaze to where the village was. It was pitch black. Until red dots started lighting up.

'Oh no' you whispered to yourself.

The realisation hit you and your whole body froze for a moment.

'Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no...'

You finally moved, grabbing your polearm off your back. Then you started running.

There was no time to safely climb down on the mountainside. You threw yourself off the cliff, slashing through the cold air and landing on your weapon. Running and jumping again like your whole life depended on it.

It probably did. The village was the only thing you wanted to live for after Scaramouche left.

Terrible guilt stabbed your heart. You couldn't believe you neglected the place and people you once swore to protect. You couldn't believe you actually forgot about them and selfishly only cared about your wounds even though they needed you.

And now they were attacked.

Fear crawled up on your spine as you jumped up from a cliff. You were pretty close to the village now.

Out of breath, you heart beating at a crazy speed but you were ready to take any monsters down.

You landed on your spear, slipped and fell painfully. But you were up on your feet in a blink of an eye, sprinting again.

The village was in a worse situation than you had imagined.

You ran through the gates and stopped, looking around to see where your help was needed the most.

It was needed everywhere.

Your eyes grew wide open.

The houses were on fire, burning and lighting up the night. People were running around in chaos, monsters chasing them. Abbys mages sent whole blaze bombs after them. They set everything on fire.

An abandoned child crying on the stairs. Her father fighting a mitachurl with a single hack. Mothers desperately trying to find their family.

The blood red flames reflected in your eyes as you stood there, numbed by the terrifying destruction.

You moved on your own as you clenched your fist around the spear.

You jumped at the speed of the light. One moment you were still standing under the gates and the next you flashed your way through a group of hilichurls.

There were just corpses left behind in your way.

An old man cried for your help when he saw you. He was trying to protect his house from an abyss mage.

You landed behind the monster. It heard the noise and tried to turn around.

But before it could've even moved an inch, your whole body strained then let loose. Hydro bursting out of your veins, it broke through the mage's shield in an instant.

It fell but never reached the ground. Your spear cut through it in mid-air.

'Thank you!' The old man panted, his entire body trembling. 'I...'

'Leave the village!' You yelled through the discord of screams and roars. 'Go to the bamboo forest!'

'But my house...'

'Leave. Now.' You ordered in a way that it was impossible to disobey.

Then you moved on.

Your aura was filled with tense hydro vibrating in the dark. It strangled the monsters with one touch but suffocated you as well.

But you didn't feel the pain at all. Everything inside you focused on the fighting and precise killing. You flashed from one side of the village to another, trying to save the people you swore to protect.

But even though your strength was almost non-human in these minutes of crisis it still felt incredibly lacking.

The whole village was on fire at this point. The abyss mages did not care about their puppets, they burned hilichurls as well as people.

Because there were so many of them.

You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and looked around desperately. There were so many monsters. And so many people you still needed to save.

The heat was unbearable. Sweatdrops streamed down your face despite the constant hydro aura surrounding you.

Suddenly the ground started shaking and you nearly fell over.

A lawachurl slammed his fists down. It let out a huge roar and turned to the closest person to it.

A frightened cry left your lips as you recognised the tiny figure.

Little Yu.

She rose her arms, shielding something behind her. She seemed almost fearless as she looked straight into the gigantic monster's eyes. But it was still a ridiculous try to stop the lawachurl.

It lifted its fists into the air, getting ready to cause another earthquake.

It swang it...

But before it could have reached the ground, you appeared in front of him out of blue.

Your spear cut through its left fist. The monster shook and roared in pain. It tried to grab you but you quickly dodged and sprang back.

The lawachurl let out a deep growl and slowly straightened up.

You couldn't help but feel ludicrously tiny compared to the huge figure. It started to manifest its geo shield. You stepped back in slight panic and glanced at Yu behind you.

'Y/n!' She cried out, grabbing the edge of your coat. 'I'm so happy you're here! Please protect us!'

You finally recognised the figure behind her. It was her wounded mother kneeling on the ground, bleeding out. Yet, the look in her daughter's eyes was brave and now hopeful.

She had faith in you. They all had their faith in you.

This thought was the only thing giving you strength.

You grabbed her arm and leaned closer to her as the lawachurl started walking towards you in the background.

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like exploding, the blood streaming in your veins hot and tense. But you still managed to sound calm when you spoke to the child.

'Listen carefully to what I have to say. Do you remember the spot where you met me and the harbinger a few days ago?' She nodded. 'Collect as many people as you can from the village and the bamboo forest and go there. Hide and don't come out until you're completely sure the monsters are gone. Do you understand?'

'Yes' she answered. But she still seemed hesitant.

'What is it?' You asked hastily for the lawachurl was getting closer to you with every passing moment.

'Will you be alright?' She asked, locking eyes with you.

'Of course' you gently pushed her backwards to her mother who seemed to have regained her consciousness. 'Now go!'

She nodded and helped her mother stand up. You made sure they got out of your zone safely.

Then turned around.

Just in time to see the lawachurl slamming down its fists.

You dodged and jumped upwards. Spun in the air and stabbed your spear infused with hydro into the monster's thick skin.

You landed safely on the ground with the bloody polearm in your grip.

The lawachurl roared so loudly that his voice shook the mountains. It swang towards you blinded by the pain but you dodged again.

You straightened up directly in front of it. Clenched your teeth together before quickly telling a quiet prayer.

You were ready to face all monsters.

[peachiimilquetea]

𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 boyfriend has never been too sexual of a guy... or so he thought

this authors note is gonna be a bit longer so bare with me pls. so this is the very first request im doing! woo! tysm to @m0chilattae ​ for this request it was so good and i had a lot fun fleshing it out! this is also my first scenario so its not gonna be in my usually bulleted format. I hope you guys like it and please let me know if you have any preferences for legibility or anything like that!

length: 2.6k

contains: sub!bf x dom!reader, afab/fem!reader, light b0ndage, edging, teasing, use of baby boy, use of miss/mistress, light degradation (m!receiving), face sitting/ oral (mostly r! receiving), light overstimulation (m! receiving), 69 technically?, vibe play

“wow you didn’t even flinch,” you murmured

you and your boyfriend sat on the couch cuddled up together, the dim light from the tv softly reflected on your faces. this movie almost was unbearably long, but he had insisted you had to see it and so here you were almost an hour later.

“what?”

you pulled your eyes away from the screen to look at your boyfriend.

“this woman is getting some of the best dick of her life on screen and you didn’t even miss a beat,” you giggled.

you weren’t even trying to be funny. the actress on screen let out an exaggerated moan as the man in front of her practically plowed into her, almost to prove your point. the scene wasn’t really your cup of tea but even you were a bit affected, feeling heat prick your skin as you watched the sex scene unfold.

your boyfriend, however, seemed extremely disinterested.

“hey can we skip this scene?” he asked and you grabbed the remote to fast forward.

the rest of the movie went pretty well. your boyfriend made a pretty good choice for this week’s movie night, but you were more focused on what he said earlier.

“babe?”

“hm?”

“so that scene really didn’t make you feel anything? not even a little stomach flutter?”

“nope,” he said popping the p for emphasis, “its just not my thing i guess.”

it wasn’t a secret in your relationship that your boyfriend had a significantly lower sex drive than you did. it was a running joke among his friends and he was almost notorious for not really being too interested in the cultural narrative of traditional sex.

you didn’t hold it against him of course, you loved him all the same and he even got you some toys for the times that he just wasn’t feeling it, but something was always off about his apathy towards getting down and dirty with you. there was, however, one thing you had not tried yet.

you were a switch, but you had never tried to turn the tables on your boyfriend. it could be the missing piece you thought, as you cleaned up the living room. as he took the dishes to the kitchen to wash them you made the executive decision to test your running theory

“you know, i think we should try something later this week,” you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

“yeah? something like what?” he turned off the water and sighed, leaning into your touch.

“hmmm its a surprise. but you do have to come up with a safeword for me.”

“ill think about it”

and thus your plan was set into motion.

on the days leading up to the finale of your master plan, you decided to start small with the teasing. you had never attempted to turn the tables on your boyfriend and you were extremely curious as to how things would go.

you had asked him to go out and pick up some things for dinner.

“im home!” he called and you directed him to the kitchen with his bags.

“i was just about to start cutting up veggies, so perfect timing babe. did you get the salmon i asked for?”

“yup! i got the last fillet.”

“good boy! you’re so helpful baby i was afraid there wouldn’t be any left”

your boyfriend paused mid-action as he processed what you had just said to him. he didn’t notice the way you were subtly taking note of how his face heated up slightly and how he began to fumble over his words just a little.

the pet name made his stomach do flips, but why was that? did he like that? he didn’t even know himself, but he pushed it down and continued to help you unpack the groceries and set up for your meal. 

the second time you teased him was when he was doing some work for school. he had managed to give himself a huge papercut and came out of his room to find you for help.

“what the hell happened?” you gasped as you saw the state of his finger. he would live but you had no idea how he managed to do this with one sheet of paper.

“s’just a papercut but it stings like crazy. do you have a bandaid?”

you hurried to get him fixed up so he could get right back to work,

“you have to be more careful, baby boy, you only get 10 fingers,” you smiled at him, knowing your words would have an effect on him again.

he sputtered, whatever he was going to say becoming a jumbled mess in his mouth at the casual way you called him baby boy. it was so natural for you, and it sounded so so good to his ears.

“what?” he croaked out, desperately hoping you would repeat yourself.

“are you feeling ok? you’re looking a bit flushed, babe. i just said you need to be more careful, how much blood did you lose?”

“n-not too much,” he ran a hand through his hair to subtly calm himself down, “it was just a paper cut.”

“well ok, if you need anything else you know where to find me.”

the smile in your voice was a new kind of torture to him. he didn’t even know he could feel so hot all the time, let alone from words alone.

you, on the other hand, were growing more and more excited as the days passed. the build-up would make the end of the week that much sweeter and you were determined to make it good for him.

the end of the week couldn’t come fast enough for the two of you. your boyfriend had never been this horny in your life and you had never been so ready to help him out.

as you gently adjusted the restraints around his wrists he felt all sorts of anticipation bubbling in his stomach. he didn’t know what you had planned but he was almost itching to find out. so much for not being too interested.

“do you remember the safe word?” you asked, tugging the chain to check its security to the bed.

“yes,” he breathed.

“good.”

you left the room to collect yourself and to give yourself the element of surprise. you had to make this a performance, and a damn good one at that.

giving yourself one last look over in the mirror, you stepped back into the room and put on your dominant demeanor. it felt good to be back after such a long time.

“you know,” you started, circling your boyfriend on the bed, “i almost feel silly for not picking up on this sooner.”

your boyfriend said nothing verbally, but his eyes followed you like a starved animal, mind holding onto every word you said for dear life. his mouth was so dry and he was so turned on.

“its funny really, i never did anything because i didn’t want to scare you. isn’t that ironic, baby?” you mused out loud, “the one thing you wanted all along has been here the whole time.”

he finally found his voice, asking, “and what’s that?”

you came closer to him, hooking your leg around his other side and sitting on top of him. you teasingly rubbed your hands all over his chest and stomach, reveling in how he squirmed for you made such small and cute sounds.

“you wanted someone to take control.”

he screwed his eyes shut and let out a low “fuck” at your words as you rubbed over his nipples lightly. he stared at your tits, desperately wanting to grope you back but being stopped by his restraints. 

he bucked in surprise when you pinched them, letting out a loud gasp and throwing his head to the side.

“awww, my baby boy is so sensitive,” you crooned and you swore you watched him die and go to heaven when you called him that.

“you like it when i call you a good boy?”

he groaned, nodding his head feverishly. you caressed his face and kissed him on the forehead, getting off his lap and getting out your box of toys from underneath the bed. it was time to really make him see stars

“as glad as i am that we’ve gotten to the root of your issue, you still need to be punished for not being truthful with me.”

“but _____ i didnt-”

“who?” you asked, voice turning icy in a split second, “you call me miss or mistress. do you understand?”

“yes miss,” he shivered.

“now, are you going to behave?” you asked, vibrator in hand.

he eyed the toy down but still nodded. you motioned for him to lift his hips up and got his pants off, leaving him in just his underwear strapped to your shared bed.

it was a sight you never thought you were going to see, so you savored it, drinking in his naked and flushed form, and really enjoying how antsy he got under your gaze. it was truly intoxicating.

“you always told me your sex drive was low, and yet here you are, practically keening at the thought of me using you like the toy you are. do you want me to touch you?”

he began to nod but you grabbed his jaw, making him look you in the eye, “use your words like a good boy.”

“yes mistress, i want you to touch me so bad”

“where do you want me to touch you?”

“o-on my c-chest and stomach. a-and on my… you know,” he mumbled shyly towards the end.

“you have to say it, baby boy,” you grinned pinching and twisting his nipples again. he cried out in surprise and pleasure.

“my cock! i want you to touch my cock! please miss!”

you smiled as he started to crack and looked down at where his dick strained in his underwear. his cock head was practically dripping, leaving him with a dark patch right on the front of his underwear. you hadn’t even properly touched him yet and he was almost cumming in his pants.

you pulled his briefs down, enjoying the view of his cock bouncing back up and hitting his lower stomach. grabbing it with some force, you started to stroke him, thumbing his slit to spread his precum around and use it like lube. 

“we’ll have you get you a cock ring soon because this won’t do,” you said, making a fist for him to buck up into.

he was moaning pretty loud now, the loudest you’d ever heard him outside of receiving head. there was a familiar but searing heat blooming in your stomach but you pushed it down. right now the focus was on him.

turning on the vibrator, you concentrated it to the underside of his head. he let out a yelp, then a hiss and a whine as he felt the waves of pleasure crash over him.

“t-this- its too much! s’too much!”

you let it continue for a few seconds before turning the vibrator off and moving away from him. 

you watched as your boyfriend fought against his restraints, bucking into the empty air for even a semblance of friction.

“i was on the edge! w-why did you stop?”

“you thought mistress was going to let you cum that easily? you’re working for this baby,” you stepped back up to him and grabbed his cock again, turning the vibrator to a higher setting than before.

back and forth you went edging the boy on the bed. as you teased him more and more, he became more restless, thrashing around more and really letting himself feel every stroke, change of pace, and new vibration. 

after a while, you couldn’t take the pangs of white-hot need shooting through your abdomen so you decided to put him to good use. you turned the vibe off, leaving the poor boy at the edge and climbed back on top of him, scooting yourself over to where his face was.

his eyes widened as he looked up at you, realizing what you had planned for him in real time. 

“do you think you can handle me sitting on your face?”

he audibly groaned, “yes mistress. i would love- mmmph!”

you cut him off by lowering yourself down on him, relishing in the relief of his tongue on your cunt. he moved in long and languid strokes at first, almost teasing, but then began to really eat as if his life depended on it, sucking on your cl!t and fucking you with his tongue.

you could feel your legs shaking as he went to town. you grabbed the headboard and unconsciously began to grind against his face, giving him little pockets of air now and then. you then got an amazing idea.

you completely dismounted off his face and turned around so you were facing his cock. he was still tied up very well, and he bucked his hips up at the view of your ass right in his face. 

he lifted his head to take a bite out of it and you slapped his thigh, chuckling at how eager he was. he had earned the right to be a little bit playful at least.

“do you want me to make you cum? you’ve been a good boy so i think you’ve earned it.”

“yes yes! i wan- i want it more than anything- i-”

“but,” you grabbed his cock, “ you have to make me cum first.”

“i-i can do that,” he moaned and you lowered yourself onto him and let him take over. it felt so good you almost forgot that his cock was right there.

you pressed a few light kisses to the head and almost immediately came his muffled moans from being deep in your pussy. you were so close you just needed a little but more.

he sucked on you with vigor, finally tipping you over the edge with a harsh suck to your clit. you cried out and braced yourself on his thighs, riding out your orgasm all over his face. he groaned as he tried to keep up with you, licking up everything that gushed out with vigor and you spasmed in slight overstimulation as he cleaned you up.

“you’re such a good boy,” you sighed.

you flipped around once again, catching him in a searing kiss before sinking down on his cock without warning. you swallowed a garbled moan of his as you continued to kiss him and leave marks on his neck and chest, riding him slowly.

“miss, im not gonna last long at all,” he whimpered and you ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face as you looked at him.  

“that’s ok, baby boy. just let go”

two more strokes and he was cumming in you with a loud groan. his heavy breathing fanned your face as you continued past the threshold of pleasure he was prepared for.

“m-miss- i-ah! i finished- finished!” he babbled as you rode him into an overstimulated frenzy

“hurts-it hurts! please mistress no more!”

you finally slowed to a stop and let him just calm down inside you. after unsheathing him and taking off his restraints, you laid in your bed together in comfortable silence.

“what was that?” he asked and the both of you dissolved into post-coitus giggling. 

“well i’ve always been a domme, but i never thought you would be into that kinda thing. you never seemed like you were into any kind of thing.”

“that is true. i just didn’t know i was into… that”

he sighed as you played with his hair, “well now that we know, we can do more. a lot more.”

he looked up at you with a lazy smile, “most definitely”

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @kixa​

[yukipri]

Marco’s Bauble Part 8 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Another update for Tumblr!

This work goes by On the Courtship of Monkey D. Luffy on AO3, and I’ll be updating over there tonight as well!

A quick question....do people like reading the updates here on Tumblr? Or now that it’s on AO3, would people prefer to read there? And if so, would you be okay waiting for new updates until AO3 catches up? I’m a little torn because I’m not sure if people are enjoying reading on here, and it’s quite a hassle to format for Tumblr, and it’s getting a bit difficult for me to juggle updating these stories on 3 separate platforms...

ANYWAY, in this update, Thatch has some Thoughts, and there is mention of Ace x Luffy.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 4

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 5

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 6

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 7

~~

What are her 3 sizes?

(For the wedding dress, of course.)

"The fuck! Like I'd tell you!" Thatch roars, startling the blue gull into momentarily leaping off the rail, before it circles back, landing again to peck at his  sleeve to express its displeasure. Thatch ignores it, because he's fuming.

So apparently all of his and Koala's secret debates over whether Marco intentionally proposed or not were for naught, because here's the fucking evidence. And it comes from Izo of all people, because Thatch would recognize that lopsided handwriting anywhere (the man insists that his handwriting is beautiful in his native language of Wano, but he never quite got used to writing any other way).

And well, if Izo, an unrelated third party but professional snooper knows, then Marco himself must know.

And apparently, they're already planning a wedding.

Thatch feels like an idiot. He'd been defending Marco against Koala, and the lil Revolutionary was a tough opponent, one he'd had to chase out of the kitchen with a ladle more than once when he was tired of her word games. Thatch had insisted, like a fool, that no Marco's not that kind of guy, he really isn't the type to play with people's emotions, he would never propose for a joke, nor would he do it seriously without good reason. It must all be an accident, a little misunderstanding, Marco was just ignorant like Thatch himself was!

Except, apparently he did know and it wasn't an accident, and now Thatch feels completely lost because he doesn't know what Marco's thinking at all. Marco, who's not just his his first friend on the Moby, but arguably his best friend; Marco, his brother over several decades; Marco, who Thatch thought he knew better than anyone, except perhaps Pops himself...

Thatch's also pissed, because if Marco wants to start drama after they all reunite and he's introduced to Luffy, that's one thing (not that that would be great either). But right now, they're still near the beginning of Paradise with almost half the circumference of the world to go until even the halfway point, and Marco is WAY on the other side of the Red Line. If this ship explodes in flames or whatever that batshit Revolutionary brother might do, Mister First Division Commander is completely unaffected, but there are plenty of innocents here (like hello! Thatch!) who would find that pretty devastating.

Also, Thatch was the one who passed on that gift to Luffy! Even if he didn't know what it meant at the time...doesn't that make Thatch complicit? And even if not, Marco's strongest connection here is clearly Thatch. If Marco's actions cause chaos, then the blame and responsibility to clean up the mess naturally falls upon Thatch. Which, he definitely did not sign up for.

Pops, Thatch thinks miserably, I thought I was supposed to show them they can depend on us Whitebeards, NOT that us Whitebeards will fuck shit up for them...

But more than anything, there's a shocking large part of Thatch that absolutely balks at just the idea of Luffy getting married. And it's shocking because Thatch shouldn't feel this upset.

Marco, for all the complaints Thatch wants to hurl at him at the moment, is still a really great guy. A guy who, in literally any other situation, Thatch would be the first in line to enthusiastically encourage, and also to congratulate.

And sure, Thatch knows he has a crush, and his little Seastar's carving out a larger home for herself in his heart by the day, but--Thatch admittedly has crushes a lot. Sure, this one feels different, but...Marco, to his knowledge, has never had a romantic crush. He only sometimes but very rarely even has a night out, and Thatch doesn't think he's ever held a relationship longer than three encounters. He's always so serious, so diligent, so sincerely and whole-heartedly dedicated to Pops and his family. He almost never does anything selfish for himself, and Thatch would know.

If, for whatever reason, Marco is genuinely serious about Luffy...then Thatch should, and would, step to the side, regardless of personal feelings. If this is the path Marco wants, then he deserves it, and Thatch will always be the first to say it, no matter how craptastic the circumstances. And Thatch knows that Marco would give his bride the world.

Without them even having met, Thatch doesn't doubt for a second that Marco would make Luffy happy, till the end of her days.

The fact that Thatch knows all this, yet still feels near unbearable reluctance...says more than he's willing to admit.

And so he decides to avoid thinking about the most obvious reason (his own feelings), and instead contemplates his second very compelling reason: Ace.

His littlest brother isn't so great at being honest with himself, and never has. But this, Thatch feels, isn't just a matter of denial.

The boy literally has no clue.

Oh sure, Ace knows he loves his little brother. He makes sure everyone else knows it too, both here on the Merry and back on the Moby once he opened up enough to talk to people. He's so damn proud of her, yet also concerned for her, while also trusting her with his life and more. It's clear to anyone who sees them together that he absolutely adores her.

But it's more than that, isn't it, Thatch thinks. It's in the little gestures, the way Ace raises his arm up without looking at her and she slides under it, also without needing to look at him. It's the casual way they lace their fingers together, like it's nothing, when they're snoozing out on the deck. It's the way sometimes they have unspoken conversations, just staring into each others eyes, before moving forward in synch to meet in the middle to bump their foreheads together in some secret mutual understanding.

It's the reason why Sanji, for all his extravagant flirting, knows when to shut up and return to being a normal human (and, Thatch grudgingly admits, this applies to himself too). It's why Zoro never lets his gaze linger more than two seconds longer than it needs to (but he'll always take those two seconds), why Nami always looks like she wants to sit closer but doesn't, why Koala hasn't said anything when she's probably usually a much more proactive flirter.

Everyone on their crew can see it, except the two in question.

Ace, Thatch thinks, heaving a huge sigh as he looks down at the crumpled note from Izo in his palm. Little brother, you are so fucking in love.

It might not necessarily be romantically. It's certainly not particularly sexually, if Ace's lack of reaction to Lu's aggressive physical smothering is any indication. It could very possibly be platonically.

But either way, there's no room for Sanji, nor Zoro, nor the girls, nor even Thatch himself...at least, until those two figure that out.

Until then, everyone aboard the Merry is here because they love and respect their captains. No one would dare encroach on something so special, yet so potentially immature, not yet ready to be dragged out to be recognized.

Thatch knows Ace has known Luffy for years, he practically raised her. But he was also away at sea for three years. Luffy was a child when he left; she's an adult now.

Thatch once asked him if she had changed at all since he last saw her (Ace most certainly had, according to Deuce). And Ace looked blank, then horribly confused, before saying No...but also, yeah, I guess. Thatch understands; Ace isn't used to not knowing something about Luffy. And something...something had changed.

That something might very well be the thing that needs to be figured out. And for that, Ace hasn't had much time yet, since reuniting with Luffy. Only as much time as the rest of them, in fact. And they deserve time to figure that out, and as the two captains' loving crew, the ASL pirates have an unsaid agreement to watch over them...at least until they have.

(After that, Thatch thinks grimly, it might be open game.)

But of course, there's also the question of Luffy herself, and as much as she's the heart of the ASL Pirates, she's also an enigma. Thatch, for all that he adores her and honestly wants more with her, genuinely has a hard time imagining her as anything but clueless as someone's romantic partner (he's carefully not thinking about anything sexual). It very well may be that the whole "figuring out" that she and Ace have to do...ends up being nothing. And that's fine as well.

Either way, as much as Thatch loves him, there's no way that any of them here on board the Merry will stand to let Marco shatter this delicate...whatever it is that's going on between their captains, that the rest of them are so patiently respecting. Even if it ends up continuing indefinitely.

As strained as it can feel at times, they're comfortable like this. There's the little spark of joy when Seastar gives him a little extra attention, a little burn when Sanji kisses her hand, but comfort in the stability that no one will go any further. If anything it's a nice little spice to their daily lives, just the right amount, and not enough ruin the dish so to speak. This is fine.

Except, that there's just one teeny little problem...

"What did the blue gull bring you today, Commander?"

Thatch doesn't jump, because he's not an amateur and did realize that the Revolutionary was approaching, but perhaps later than he should have. Damn the kid's good at hiding his presence, and Thatch wonders if he'd have noticed at all if Sabo was being serious.

"Just a stupid request from a stupid brother," Thatch says cheerfully as he turns around to face Sabo. The boy isn't even trying to hide his curiosity, his gaze pinned to Thatch's hand.

Thatch contemplates chucking the letter into the sea, but then he realizes he isn't sure Sabo wouldn't just dive after it, and as a devil fruit user, Thatch wouldn't be able to stop him from reading it underwater.

So he casually uncurls his fingers, watches Sabo visibly perk up--before Thatch opens a black hole in his palm, letting the crumpled paper get sucked into the void.

(Perhaps he should be using his power as more than a secure second dimension pocket expansion, but hey, so far it hasn't been so helpful in the kitchen.)

Sabo sags and sulks, rather cutely, Thatch thinks. "You coulda let me see it," he pouts, looking up at Thatch with an expression uncannily like Luffy's. Fuck.

"Collecting intel, Chief?" Thatch winks, expertly hiding his horror that for a moment, he'd actually been tempted. Little sneak.

"Perhaps." Something slightly manic enters his gaze, and alright, that's nothing like Seastar, not so cute after all...

"Nice try, but it's a personal family thing, can't really share," Thatch says, and it's not really a lie.

Sabo grunts, letting it go, before his gaze flicks to the gull, who still has a beakful of Thatch's sleeve. "It waiting for something?"

Thatch sighs. "Yeah, yeah, my response, which I should probably give..." Because, right, Thatch needs to send a message back to the Moby, even if no, he isn't going to answer Izo's idiotic question.

Which, is actually a fine excuse to extract himself from this situation.

"So, sorry, the response also is personal, hope you don't mind," Thatch nods, and Sabo easily opens the way for him--which, Thatch belatedly realizes, he'd actually been blocking. Scary, little Chief, scary...

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry." Sabo sounds genuinely apologetic, and tips his hat at Thatch as he passes by, and Thatch inwardly heaves a massive sigh of relief. "I'm working on it, but I know I can get a little...pushy, when it comes to things that involve my baby brother."

Thatch continues to walk away.

But inside...

Oh. Yikes, he thinks.

~~

Thatch is in the privacy of the currently empty men's sleeping room beneath the deck, and has just finished writing and giving instructions and bribes to the gull when the hatch creaks open.

"Thatch, we're in trouble," Koala announces as she stomps down the stairs, making her sneaky opening of the door rather pointless.

"I noticed," Thatch says dryly.

Koala pales. "He didn't break any of your toes, did he?!"

"What."

"Well, you're a cook, you make food Luffy likes with your hands," Koala shrugs. "Just wanted to make sure."

"What the fuck."

"I don't think he will! You're Luffy and Ace's crew, and you're a Whitebeard pirate, but..."

Thatch groans. "I already thought your Chief might be trouble, but holy shit I didn't know he was that batshit."

"He might not be!" Koala sounds defensive, but it's not particularly comforting. "He's usually reasonable, kind of, but since his memories came back..."

Thatch throws up his arms. "So, how'd he get it out of you?"

Koala flushes. "I didn't say anything!"

"Sure."

"It's not my fault that Sabo's a damn--!"

There's a loud knock, before the hatch flings open, and Ace pops his head in. "Hey Thatch! What's for snack--"

"NOT AGAIN!" Koala cries.

At the same time, Thatch shouts, "IN A SECOND!"

Either way, the hatch slams shut with a, "SORRY!"

Thatch and Koala stare at each other with their hearts beating uncomfortably rapidly.

They slowly heave a slow sigh of relief as the tension drains.

"I really need to apologize to Ace," Thatch mutters.

"I really need to work on my Observation Haki," Koala groans.

"HEY THATCH, I WANT A SNACK," Luffy shouts, and Thatch and Koala's heads whip around in horror, only to sag with relief at seeing that Luffy's not in the room, but only for a second--

--because after that second, a mermaid's crashing through the hatch, ripping it from its hinges as she slams, hatch and all, into Thatch's chest.

The room fills with dust and debris, and there are shouts outside.

Koala gingerly peers into the wreckage where Thatch is now buried in the wall, a terrified blue gull  perched on her shoulders peering alongside her, its claws digging through the fabric of her shirt.

"We're fine," Thatch coughs, peering down to make sure he'd successfully caught and shielded Luffy from damage, even as he peels himself from the wood. Luffy seems unharmed, though her eyes are wide; she clearly hadn't expected to do quite this much.

"...Armament?" Koala asks, noticing how the back of Thatch's hair is black from where it's fanned around him.

"Armament," Thatch agrees, keeping the entire back of his body coated until he's safely pulled himself and Luffy, still in his arms, away from any sharp wood.

"Sorry, Thatch," Luffy says, not particularly apologetic, if anything sort of curious. She peels herself back from his chest, scritching her cheek while looking down at what was once the hatch to the mens room that had shattered between them. She then reaches back to tug at Thatch's black locks, and oohs when they fade back to auburn.

"No worries, just make sure to make it up to Deuce and Usopp when they have to fix this," Thatch sighs, before grinning, letting his arms fall away from Luffy once he knows she has a secure grip on his shoulders. He then begins carding his fingers through her hair to make sure no splinters got in, and likewise dusting off the front of her vest, taking care not to let his touch linger. Luffy nods frantic agreement, more like rubs her head into his palm, and Thatch feels his heart skip a beat.

Koala sighs.

"Hey Thatch, what's this?"

Thatch blinks, then inwardly curses.

Luffy's holding Izo's crumpled piece of paper. His control of his power's still shoddy, and it must have accidentally spat it back out in the commotion.

Please, don't be able to read that, he prays. He luckily doesn't have much confidence in Luffy's reading abilities.

"It says 'what are her three sizes.' What are those?"

In the background, Koala slowly raises her fist.

~~

A few days later, Marco's scouting when a blue gull rapidly approaches him.

Delivery! it squawks. Delivery for you, Boss, and don't show Izo! Don't show Izo! Don't show Izo or the bread man will be mad!

Thank you, noted, friend, Marco responds, and catches the note from Thatch in mid air.

The gull trills acknowledgement, then wheels away to rejoin its brethren, while Marco changes course for the nearest island, a safe forest haven in Pops's territory, still a ways away from the Moby. It's uninhabited, save for the wildlife, and it would be good to land once before returning home anyway.

Marco lands lightly on the tallest and oldest tree on the island, from where he can survey the island of pure greenery, and the endless blue stretching beyond. The branch he's chosen looks deceptively thin, but he already knows it can support his human weight, which is why he shifts, passing the note from his claw to his hand before completing his transformation.

Marco frowns. The other Commanders (and to be honest, the entire crew) have been acting a bit strange recently, but for Thatch, who isn't even on board with them, to also be in on it...

True, this may or may not be related to that at all. But still.

Marco feels like he's missing something.

Marco, Thatch's message starts, and Marco already knows it's going to be serious because it didn't start with a jibe at his appearance.

Marco, I think I'm actually serious about her. Thoughts, brother?

Her, meaning the Ace's little brother, the mermaid girl.

If Marco remembers correctly, in Thatch's first note back to him, he'd written, She's stolen my heart, I think I want to marry her.

Marco had assumed Thatch was joking at the time, or just light-heartedly flirting, as he always did. Marco's used to hearing Thatch spew these kinds of words, and he'd taken it to mean that the girl's exceptionally Thatch's type, but hadn't thought further.

The words had made him remember a little trinket he'd had stored in a chest at the back of his closet, one he'd received from an elderly couple on Fishman Island around two decades ago...

But that's not important now, Marco thinks, focussing on Thatch's message.

In all his years of flings and casual relationships and jokingly asking ladies (and some gents) Won't you marry me...Thatch has not once asked for Marco's opinion. He's certainly had plenty of opinions himself about whether someone would be a potential good match for Marco, which Marco always ignored. But Thatch has never asked Marco about matches for himself.

Thatch really is serious.

Marco finds himself slowly smiling. "Finally, you sap," he murmurs, though no one hears him but the other birds in the trees around him.

He knows he ought to think more about what to say, but the answer is so obvious that Marco takes Thatch's note, and carefully tears the paper so that his brother's words aren't damaged. Gently tucking Thatch's note into his pocket, Marco pulls out a pen for the remaining small blank strip of paper.

Shortly afterwards, two birds depart from the island, in opposite directions: one, a phoenix, wings burning cyan against the clear skies, and the other, a blue gull headed to Paradise.

~~

~~

~~

Part 9, things start Moving as Sabo confronts Ace.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! And again, please do let me know if you actually like reading the story here on tumblr or not >.<;

As always, any comments are immensely appreciated and help motivate me to create more for this AU! ;A;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

My Top 20 Films of 2019 - Part Two

I don’t think I’ve had a year where my top ten jostled and shifted as much as this one did - these really are the best of the best and my personal favourites of 2019.

10. Toy Story 4

I think we can all agree that Toy Story 3 was a pretty much perfect conclusion to a perfect trilogy right? About as close as is likely to get, I’m sure. I shared the same trepidation when part four was announced, especially after some underwhelming sequels like Finding Dory and Cars 3 (though I do have a lot of time for Monsters University and Incredibles 2). So maybe it’s because the odds were so stacked against this being good but I thought it was wonderful. A truly existential nightmare of an epilogue that does away with Andy (and mostly kids altogether) to focus on the dreams and desires of the toys themselves - separate from their ‘duties’ as playthings to biological Gods. What is their purpose in life without an owner? Can they be their own person and carve their own path? In the case of breakout new character Forky (Tony Hale), what IS life? Big big questions for a cash grab kids films huh?

The animation is somehow yet another huge leap forward (that opening rainstorm!), Bo Peep’s return is excellently pitched and the series tradition of being unnervingly horrifying is back as well thanks to those creepy ventriloquist dolls! Keanu Reeves continues his ‘Keanuassaince‘ as the hilarious Duke Caboom and this time, hopefully, the ending at least feels finite. This series means so much to me: I think the first movie is possibly the tightest, most perfect script ever written, the third is one of my favourites of the decade and growing up with the franchise (I was 9 when the first came out, 13 for part two, 24 for part three and now 32 for this one), these characters are like old friends so of course it was great to see them again. All this film had to do was be good enough to justify its existence and while there are certainly those out there that don’t believe this one managed it, I think the fact that it went as far as it did showed that Pixar are still capable of pushing boundaries and exploring infinity and beyond when they really put their minds to it.

9. The Nightingale

Hoo boy. Already controversial with talk of mass walkouts (I witnessed a few when this screened at Sundance London), it’s not hard to see why but easy to understand. Jennifer Kent (The Babadook) is a truly fearless filmmaker following up her acclaimed suburban horror movie come grief allegory with a period revenge tale set in the Tasmanian wilderness during British colonial rule in the early 1800s. It’s rare to see the British depicted with the monstrous brutality for which they were known in the distant colonies and this unflinching drama sorely needed an Australian voice behind the camera to do it justice.

The film is front loaded with some genuinely upsetting, nasty scenes of cruel violence but its uncensored brutality and the almost casual nature of its depiction is entirely the point - this was normalised behaviour over there and by treating it so matter of factly, it doesn’t slip into gratuitous ‘movie violence’. It is what it is. And what it is is hard to watch. If anything, as Kent has often stated, it’s still toned down from the actual atrocities that occurred so it’s a delicate balance that I think Kent more than understands. Quoting from an excellent Vanity Fair interview she did about how she directs, Kent said “I think audiences have become very anaesthetised to violence on screen and it’s something I find disturbing... People say ‘these scenes are so shocking and disturbing’. Of course they are. We need to feel that. When we become so removed from violence on screen, this is a very irresponsible thing. So I wanted to put us right within the frame with that person experiencing the loss of everything they hold dear”. 

Aisling Franciosi is next level here as a woman who has her whole life torn from her, leaving her as nothing but a raging husk out for vengeance. It would be so easy to fall into odd couple tropes once she teams up with reluctant native tracker Billy (an equally impressive newcomer, Baykali Ganambarr) but the film continues to stay true to the harsh racism of the era, unafraid to depict our heroine - our point of sympathy - as horrendously racist towards her own ally. Their partnership is not easily solidified but that makes it all the stronger when they star to trust each other. Sam Claflin is also career best here, weaponizing his usual charm into dangerous menace and even after cementing himself as the year’s most evil villain, he can still draw out the humanity in such a broken and corrupt man.

Gorgeously shot in the Academy ratio, the forest landscape here is oppressive and claustrophobic. Kent also steps back into her horror roots with some mesmerising, skin crawling dream scenes that amplify the woozy nightmarish tone and overbearing sense of dread. Once seen, never forgotten, this is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea (and that’s fine) but when cinema can affect you on such a visceral level and be this powerful, reflective and honest about our own past, it’s hard to ignore. Stunning.

8. The Irishman

Aka Martin Scorsese’s magnum opus, I did manage to see this one in a cinema before the Netflix drop and absolutely loved it. I’ve watched 85 minute long movies that felt longer than this - Marty’s mastery of pace, energy and knowing when to let things play out in agonising detail is second to none. This epic tale of  the life of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) really is the cinematic equivalent of having your cake and eating it too, allowing Scorsese to run through a greatest hits victory lap of mobster set pieces, alpha male arguments, a decades spanning life story and one (last?) truly great Joe Pesci performance before simply letting the story... continue... to a natural, depressing and tragic ending, reflecting the emptiness of a life built on violence and crime.

For a film this long, it’s impressive how much the smallest details make the biggest impacts. A stammering phone call from a man emotionally incapable of offering any sort of condolence. The cold refusal of forgiveness from a once loving daughter. A simple mirroring of a bowl of cereal or a door left slightly ajar. These are the parts of life that haunt us all and it’s what we notice the most in a deliberately lengthy biopic that shows how much these things matter when everything else is said and done. The violence explodes in sudden, sharp bursts, often capping off unbearably tense sequences filled with the everyday (a car ride, a conversation about fish, ice cream...) and this contrast between the whizz bang of classic Scorsese and the contemplative nature of Silence era Scorsese is what makes this film feel like such an accomplishment. De Niro is FINALLY back but it’s the memorably against type role for Pesci and an invigorated Al Pacino who steals this one, along with a roll call of fantastic cameos, with perhaps the most screentime given to the wonderfully petty Stephen Graham as Tony Pro, not to mention Anna Paquin’s near silent performance which says more than possibly anyone else. 

Yes, the CG de-aging is misguided at best, distracting at worst (I never really knew how old anyone was meant to be at any given time... which is kinda a problem) but like how you get used to it really quickly when it’s used well, here I kinda got past it being bad in an equally fast amount of time and just went with it. Would it have been a different beast had they cast younger actors to play them in the past? Undoubtedly. But if this gives us over three hours of Hollywood’s finest giving it their all for the last real time together, then that’s a compromise I can live with.

7. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Wow. I was in love with this film from the moving first trailer but then the film itself surpassed all expectations. This is a true indie film success story, with lead actor Jimmie Fails developing the idea with director Joe Talbot for years before Kickstarting a proof of concept and eventually getting into Sundance with short film American Paradise, which led to the backing of this debut feature through Plan B and A24. The deeply personal and poetic drama follows a fictionalised version of Jimmie, trying to buy back an old Victorian town house he claims was built by his grandfather, in an act of rebellion against the increasingly gentrified San Francisco that both he and director Talbot call home.

The film is many things - a story of male friendship, of solidarity within our community, of how our cities can change right from underneath us - it moves to the beat of it’s own drum, with painterly cinematography full of gorgeous autumnal colours and my favourite score of the year from Emile Mosseri. The performances, mostly by newcomers or locals outside of brilliant turns from Jonathan Majors, Danny Glover and Thora Birch, are wonderful and the whole thing is such a beautiful love letter to the city that it makes you ache for a strong sense of place in your own home, even if your relationship with it is fractured or strained. As Jimmie says, “you’re not allowed to hate it unless you love it”.

For me, last year’s Blindspotting (my favourite film of the year) tackled gentrification within California more succinctly but this much more lyrical piece of work ebbs and flows through a number of themes like identity, family, memory and time. It’s a big film living inside a small, personal one and it is not to be overlooked.

6. Little Women

I had neither read the book nor seen any prior adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 novel so to me, this is by default the definitive telling of this story. If from what I hear, the non linear structure is Greta Gerwig’s addition, then it’s a total slam dunk. It works so well in breaking up the narrative and by jumping from past to present, her screenplay highlights certain moments and decisions with a palpable sense of irony, emotional weight or knowing wink. Getting to see a statement made with sincere conviction and then paid off within seconds, can be both a joy and a surefire recipe for tears. Whether it’s the devastating contrast between scenes centred around Beth’s illness or the juxtaposition of character’s attitudes to one another, it’s a massive triumph. Watching Amy angrily tell Laurie how she’s been in love with him all her life and then cutting back to her childishly making a plaster cast of her foot for him (’to remind him how small her feet are’) is so funny. 

Gerwig and her impeccable cast bring an electric energy to the period setting, capturing the big, messy realities of family life with a mix of overwhelming cross-chatter and the smallest of intimate gestures. It’s a testament to the film that every sister feels fully serviced and represented, from Beth’s quiet strength to Amy’s unforgivable sibling rivalry. Chris Cooper’s turn as a stoic man suffering almost imperceptible grief is a personal heartbreaking favourite. 

The book’s (I’m assuming) most sweeping romantic statements are wonderfully delivered, full of urgent passion and relatable heartache, from Marmie’s (Laura Dern) “I’m angry nearly every day of my life” moment to Jo’s (Saoirse Ronan) painful defiance of feminine attributes not being enough to cure her loneliness. The sheer amount of heart and warmth in this is just remarkable and I can easily see it being a film I return to again and again.

5. Booksmart

2019 has been a banner year for female directors, making their exclusion from some of the early awards conversations all the more damning. From this list alone, we have Lulu Wang, Jennifer Kent and Greta Gerwig. Not to mention Lorene Scafaria (Hustlers), Melina Matsoukas (Queen & Slim), Jocelyn DeBoer & Dawn Luebbe (Greener Grass), Sophie Hyde (Animals) and Rose Glass (Saint Maud - watch out for THIS one in 2020, it’s brilliant). Perhaps the most natural transition from in front of to behind the camera has been made by Olivia Wilde, who has created a borderline perfect teen comedy that can make you laugh till you cry, cry till you laugh and everything in-between.

Subverting the (usually male focused) ‘one last party before college’ tropes that fuel the likes of Superbad and it’s many inferior imitators, Booksmart follows two overachievers who, rather than go on a coming of age journey to get some booze or get laid, simply want to indulge in an insane night of teenage freedom after realising that all of the ‘cool kids’ who they assumed were dropouts, also managed to get a place in all of the big universities. It’s a subtly clever remix of an old favourite from the get go but the committed performances from Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein put you firmly in their shoes for the whole ride. 

It’s a genuine blast, with big laughs and a bigger heart, portraying a supportive female friendship that doesn’t rely on hokey contrivances to tear them apart, meaning that when certain repressed feelings do come to the surface, the fallout is heartbreaking. As I stated in a twitter rave after first seeing it back in May, every single character, no matter how much they might appear to be simply representing a stock role or genre trope, gets their moment to be humanised. This is an impeccably cast ensemble of young unknowns who constantly surprise and the script is a marvel - a watertight structure without a beat out of place, callbacks and payoffs to throwaway gags circle back to be hugely important and most of all, the approach taken to sexuality and representation feels so natural. I really think it is destined to be looked back on and represent 2019 the way Heathers does ‘88, Clueless ‘95 or Easy A 2010. A new high benchmark for crowd pleasing, indie comedy - teen or otherwise.

4. Ad Astra

Brad Pitt is one of my favourite actors and one who, despite still being a huge A-lister even after 30 years in the game, never seems to get enough credit for the choices he makes, the movies he stars in and also the range of stories he helps produce through his company, Plan B. 2019 was something of a comeback year for Pitt as an actor with the insanely measured and controlled lead performance seen here in Ad Astra and the more charismatic and chaotic supporting role in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.

I love space movies, especially those that are more about broken people blasting themselves into the unknown to search for answers within themselves... which manages to sum up a lot of recent output in this weirdly specific sub-genre. First Man was a devastating look at grief characterised by a man who would rather go to a desolate rock than have to confront what he lost, all while being packaged as a heroic biopic with a stunning score. Gravity and The Martian both find their protagonists forced to rely on their own cunning and ingenuity to survive and Interstellar looked at the lengths we go to for those we love left behind. Smaller, arty character studies like High Life or Moon are also astounding. All of this is to say that Ad Astra takes these concepts and runs with them, challenging Pitt to cross the solar system to talk some sense into his long thought dead father (Tommy Lee Jones). But within all the ‘sad dad’ stuff, there’s another film in here just daring you to try and second guess it - one that kicks things off with a terrifying free fall from space, gives us a Mad Max style buggy chase on the moon and sidesteps into horror for one particular set-piece involving a rabid baboon in zero G! It manages to feel so completely nuts, so episodic in structure, that I understand why a lot of people were turned off - feeling that the overall film was too scattershot to land the drama or too pondering to have any fun with. I get the criticisms but for me, both elements worked in tandem, propelling Pitt on this (assumed) one way journey at a crazy pace whilst sitting back and languishing in the ‘bigger themes’ more associated with a Malik or Kubrick film. Something that Pitt can sell me on in his sleep by this point.

I loved the visuals from cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar), loved the imagination and flair of the script from director James Gray and Ethan Gross and loved the score by Max Richter (with Lorne Balfe and Nils Frahm) but most of all, loved Pitt, proving that sometimes a lot less, is a lot more. The sting of hearing the one thing he surely knew (but hoped he wouldn’t) be destined to hear from his absent father, acted almost entirely in his eyes during a third act confrontation, summed up the movie’s brilliance for me - so much so that I can forgive some of the more outlandish ‘Mr Hyde’ moments of this thing’s alter ego... like, say, riding a piece of damaged hull like a surfboard through a meteor debris field! 

3. Avengers: Endgame

It’s no secret that I think Marvel, the MCU in particular, have been going from strength to strength in recent years, slowly but surely taking bigger risks with filmmakers (the bonkers Taika Waititi, the indie darlings of Ryan Coogler, Cate Shortland and Chloe Zhao) whilst also carefully crafting an entertaining, interconnected universe of characters and stories. But what is the point of building up any movie ‘universe’ if you’re not going to pay it off and Endgame is perhaps the strongest conclusion to eleven years of movie sequels that fans could have possibly hoped for.

Going into this thing, the hype was off the charts (and for good reason, with it now being the highest grossing film of all time) but I remember souring on the first entry of this two-parter, Infinity War, during the time between initial release and Endgame’s premiere. That film had a game-changing climax, killing off half the heroes (and indeed the universe’s population) and letting the credits role on the villain having achieved his ultimate goal. It was daring, especially for a mammoth summer blockbuster but obviously, we all knew the deaths would never be permanent, especially with so many already-announced sequels for now ‘dusted’ characters. However, it wasn’t just the feeling that everything would inevitably be alright in the end. For me, the characters themselves felt hugely under-serviced, with arguably the franchise’s main goody two shoes Captain America being little more than a beardy bloke who showed up to fight a little bit. Basically what I’m getting at is that I felt Endgame, perhaps emboldened by the giant runtime, managed to not only address these character slights but ALSO managed to deliver the most action packed, comic booky, ‘bashing your toys together’ final fight as well.

It’s a film of three parts, each pretty much broken up into one hour sections. There’s the genuinely new and interesting initial section following our heroes dealing with the fact that they lost... and it stuck. Thor angrily kills Thanos within the first fifteen minutes but it’s a meaningless action by this point - empty revenge. Cutting to five years later, we get to see how defeat has affected them, for better or worse, trying to come to terms with grief and acceptance. Cap tries to help the everyman, Black Widow is out leading an intergalactic mop up squad and Thor is wallowing in a depressive black hole. It’s a shocking and vibrantly compelling deconstruction of the whole superhero thing and it gives the actors some real meat to chew on, especially Robert Downy Jr here who goes from being utterly broken to fighting within himself to do the right thing despite now having a daughter he doesn’t want to lose too. Part two is the trip down memory lane, fan service-y time heist which is possibly the most fun section of any of these movies, paying tribute to the franchise’s past whilst teetering on a knife’s edge trying to pull off a genuine ‘mission impossible’. And then it explodes into the extended finale which pays everyone off, demonstrates some brilliantly imaginative action and sticks the landing better than it had any right to. In a year which saw the ending of a handful of massive geek properties, from Game of Thrones to Star Wars, it’s a miracle even one of them got it right at all. That Endgame managed to get it SO right is an extraordinary accomplishment and if anything, I think Marvel may have shot themselves in the foot as it’s hard to imagine anything they can give us in the future having the intense emotional weight and momentum of this huge finale.

2. Knives Out

Rian Johnson has been having a ball leaping into genre sandpits and stirring shit up, from his teen spin on noir in Brick to his quirky con man caper with The Brothers Bloom, his time travel thriller Looper and even his approach to the Star Wars mythos in The Last Jedi. Turning his attention to the relatively dead ‘whodunnit’ genre, Knives Out is a perfect example of how to celebrate everything that excites you about a genre whilst weaponizing it’s tropes against your audience’s baggage and preconceptions.

An impeccable cast have the time of their lives here, revelling in playing self obsessed narcissists who scramble to punt the blame around when the family’s patriarch, a successful crime novelist (Christopher Plummer), winds up dead. Of course there’s something fishy going on so Daniel Craig’s brilliantly dry southern detective Benoit Blanc is called in to investigate.There are plenty of standouts here, from Don Johnson’s ignorant alpha wannabe Richard to Michael Shannon’s ferocious eldest son Walt to Chris Evan’s sweater wearing jock Ransom, full of unchecked, white privilege swagger. But the surprise was the wholly sympathetic, meek, vomit prone Marta, played brilliantly by Ana de Armas, cast against her usual type of sultry bombshell (Knock Knock, Blade Runner 2049), to spearhead the biggest shake up of the genre conventions. To go into more detail would begin to tread into spoiler territory but by flipping the audience’s engagement with the detective, we’re suddenly on the receiving end of the scrutiny and the tension derived from this switcheroo is genius and opens up the second act of the story immensely.

The whole thing is so lovingly crafted and the script is one of the tightest I’ve seen in years. The amount of setup and payoff here is staggering and never not hugely satisfying, especially as it heads into it’s final stretch. It really gives you some hope that you could have such a dense, plotty, character driven idea for a story and that it could survive the transition from page to screen intact and for the finished product to work as well as it does. I really hope Johnson returns to tell another Benoit Blanc mystery and judging by the roaring box office success (currently over $200 million worldwide for a non IP original), I certainly believe he will.

1. Eighth Grade

My film of the year is another example of the power of cinema to put us in other people’s shoes and to discover the traits, fears, joys and insecurities that we all share irregardless. It may shock you to learn this but I have never been a 13 year old teenage girl trying to get by in the modern world of social media peer pressure and ‘influencer’ culture whilst crippled with personal anxiety. My school days almost literally could not have looked more different than this (less Instagram, more POGs) and yet, this is a film about struggling with oneself, with loneliness, with wanting more but not knowing how to get it without changing yourself and the careless way we treat those with our best interests at heart in our selfish attempt to impress peers and fit in. That is understandable. That is universal. And as I’m sure I’ve said a bunch of times in this list, movies that present the most specific worldview whilst tapping into universal themes are the ones that inevitably resonate the most.

Youtuber and comedian Bo Burnham has crafted an impeccable debut feature, somehow portraying a generation of teens at least a couple of generations below his own, with such laser focused insight and intimate detail. It’s no accident that this film has often been called a sort of social-horror, with cringe levels off the charts and recognisable trappings of anxiety and depression in every frame. The film’s style services this feeling at every turn, from it’s long takes and nauseous handheld camerawork to the sensory overload in it’s score (take a bow Anna Meredith) and the naturalistic performances from all involved. Burnham struck gold when he found Elsie Fisher, delivering the most painful and effortlessly real portrayal of a tweenager in crisis as Kayla. The way she glances around skittishly, the way she is completely lost in her phone, the way she talks, even the way she breathes all feeds into the illusion - the film is oftentimes less a studio style teen comedy and more a fly on the wall documentary. 

This is a film that could have coasted on being a distant, social media based cousin to more standard fare like Sex Drive or Superbad or even Easy A but it goes much deeper, unafraid to let you lower your guard and suddenly hit you with the most terrifying scene of casually attempted sexual aggression or let you watch this pure, kindhearted girl falter and question herself in ways she shouldn’t even have to worry about. And at it’s core, there is another beautiful father/daughter relationship, with Josh Hamilton stuck on the outside looking in, desperate to help Kayla with every fibre of his being but knowing there are certain things she has to figure out for herself. It absolutely had me and their scene around a backyard campfire is one of the year’s most touching.

This is a truly remarkable film that I think everyone should seek out but I’m especially excited for all the actual teenage girls who will get to watch this and feel seen. This isn’t about the popular kid, it isn’t about the dork who hangs out with his or her own band of misfits. This is about the true loner, that person trying everything to get noticed and still ending up invisible, that person trying to connect through the most disconnected means there is - the internet - and everything that comes with it. Learning that the version of yourself you ‘portray’ on a Youtube channel may act like they have all the answers but if you’re kidding yourself then how do you grow? 

When I saw this in the cinema, I watched a mother take her seat with her two daughters, aged probably at around nine and twelve. Possibly a touch young for this, I thought, and I admit I cringed a bit on their behalf during some very adult trailers but in the end, I’m glad their mum decided they were mature enough to see this because a) they had a total blast and b) life simply IS R rated for the most part, especially during our school years, and those girls being able to see someone like Kayla have her story told on the big screen felt like a huge win. I honestly can’t wait to see what Burnham or Fisher decide to do next. 2019 has absolutely been their year... and it’s been a hell of a year.

[the-reader-to-my-hero]

Of Motorcycles and Mothmen

A/N: this was inspired by @ichor-and-symbiosis ‘s cute Mothman Tomura headcannons but with my own twist. Since yall are thirsty for the mothman here ya go this is a Modern!AU no quirks.

It had been an ordinary evening. Well. As ordinary as it got in this creepy ass part of the woods. But the young mechanic honestly preferred the unseen eyes of whatever-the-hell-was-watching-her over the hundreds of people commuting via the subway.

Olive Jones was not very good with people.

She was just never really able to break out of her socially awkward “phase”. She had a really rough time in high school, so bad that it lead to violent anger issues that ultimately got her suspended on assault charges of other classmates. After that, with a strained relationship with her family, she moved from Australia to Japan to study at a technical school.

Being a foreigner and not knowing anyone really didn’t help Olive’s case but it didn’t exactly hurt it either. She was good at her job, running a small shop for both electronics and motorbikes. Her income was steady so she spent her extra money on videogames and subscription fees.

She preferred to travel to a game store outside the city, using an older road that cut through one of Japan’s large forests. It was a weekly trip. Part of the decision was Olive had scopophobia, which is essentially the fear of being watched or stared at. Her pale freckled skin, short dusty blonde hair, and the eyepatch over her right eye definitely made her something to ogle at. Isn’t like she blamed people.

But the woods...well… that was different. At first it was just a certain part of the woods, especially around dusk, near a creek she could see flowing during the summer months. It was spooky, but being a foreign blonde woman in her early-mid 20’s, Olive wasn’t about to stop and check it out. That’s how you die folks.

Then it all changed when one fateful night, ye ole faithful moped broke down...in the woods… near that one creepy place. Olive kept a heavy metal wrench in one hand the whole time, jumping at every sound, eyes darting around as the hairs on her neck stood up. She cursed up a loud Aussie storm, yelling at her moped like she was cussing someone out, hoping maybe, it would keep away any lurking predators. That and she actually...did that a lot.

She didn’t consider that any would find her act entertaining, especially when the act dropped when her moped tipped over.

“Aw! Bloody fucking hell! You blasted No good, piss-poor broken-backed camel!” that was the most PG one of the insults. The wind had then suddenly picked up, branches rustling as if laughing at her misfortune.

Luckily, she got her ride working, but something had changed. No everytime she went through that forest, she felt like she was being watched the entire time. She told herself it was paranoia cause she broke down, that she's just overthinking it, but that of course, didn't make it go away.

Then finally… Something happened…

It was a dark stormy night, as cliche as it sounds. For the record, the storm came out of nowhere, a sunny day switching to a stormy night in the time Olive was browsing new releases.

It was raining like fucking cats and dogs. Jones was really wishing she had itty bitty windshield wipers on her helmet visor as she whisked through the tunnel of light her moped lamp gave her. The rain sparkled in the light, refracting it, like little gem stones. It would be kind of pretty if the mechanic wasn’t drenched to the bone and trying to ignore the shiver that went down her back.

The wind whistled through the trees, and Olive could glimpse the branches above her swaying in the wind. That feeling got stronger. She swore she heard a flapping sound, a loud one amongst the chaos, like wings.

She isn’t entirely sure what made her look in her rearview mirror, but it would change the course of Olive Jone’s life. In her circular rearview mirror, illuminated by the refracted light off the rain droplets, were two big, glowing red eyes, a mere 10 yards behind her moped.

Olive’s head flew to look behind her as she shouted “WHAT THE FU—“

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The moped hydroplaned across a big puddle from the flooding creek. Olive lost control, attempting to turn around the sharp bend in the road but she only succeeded in losing balance and sailing off the road toward the steep hill into the ditch. She flew off her moped mid-air, the wheels on the bike still moving, headlight shining up on an approaching figure in the night sky.

Olive could only close her eyes and brace herself.

She landed on her left shoulder, and she swore she heard a rather unpleasant pop! Sound off, but she was already tumbling down the steep incline as her Moped did the same with a bunch of crashes and thuds.

Somehow, her moped’s headlight still worked, shining like a beacon in the rain as it lied on its side. Olive Jones however, was caked in mud and grass and leaves, sprawled out lying on her stomach, in shock. Somewhere along the way, she lost her helmet, which was wedged between two rocks higher up the incline.

Everything hurt. Olive wondered if this was the end for her, and how long it would take people to notice. She was a nobody. Some aussie shut in with a work permit. Was she gonna die out here? How long until her moped’s headlamp died?

There was a sound, a familiar one, like the beating of wings. Olive spotted movement, her single eye scanning the skyline.

And then….

There he was.

He blocked out the moped’s headlamp, a humanoid silhouette. Immediately something was off, mainly the huge pair of paper thin wings folding behind their back.

Olive couldn't move underneath their red eyed gaze, even though she was unable to see it. She laid there, frozen, trying to blink out the cold rain that seeped through her eyelashes. She was dreaming right? She hit her head too hard? This giant...moth….man…. was just a hallucination right?

But the squelch of the mud beneath their strange alien feet as they took a slow step forward couldn’t have been more real. With an overwhelming terror, Olive’s body flew into action, shoving her upper body upright. All at once her left shoulder clenched with a searing pain that she sucked in through her teeth. She nearly fell face first back into the mud, but she forced herself to sit up, falling backward against a stump.

Maybe it was the pain. Making her see loony things Olive bared her teeth like some snarling injured animal, clasping at the shoulder with her good arm, while planting her feet in front of her.

The thing cocked its head to the side abruptly, before leering closer.

“s-S-Stop!!” Olive yelped in English, voice cracking. It blinked its red eyes rapidly, as if it were confused. Oh right. Japan. But did it even understand Japanese? Did it talk? It was uncanny valley how human it looked and how extremely not.

The pain in Ol’s shoulder was nearly unbearable from her own iron grip. She buried her converse hightops into the mud, shrinking away as he came ever closer. With a hard swallow she switched languages. “D-don’t hurt me please. Don't come any closer! I-I-I’ll batter ya!” That was awfully convincing considering she was soaked to the bone from the downpour, covered in mud, and could feel bruises and cuts forming all over her body.

Another step. Olive couldn't press herself any further into the tree.

It crouched, wings draped on either side. It chirped as if in curiosity. Red eyes burned into her, glared at her, and—probably all this time huh? All that time she felt like she was being watched out here in the woods. Had it been watching? Waiting to make the kill?

Olive found herself shrinking beneath its gaze, trying to hide her shivering form.

Something grabbed her jaw. It was hard and smooth like plastic, but solid, not flesh, as it forcefully pulled her forward. She choked on air, unable to look away from those red eyes.

Ol wasn’t quite sure what happened next. She just…kinda went limp, her body folding under her. Maybe it was the shock, the fear, the stress, but she never hit the muddy ground. No, she was caught by what she can only assume are hands, which slowly maneuvered and manipulated her body with surprising care. Whatever it was, it was mindful of her shoulder when she whimpered in pain. She realized she was shivering. Violently. God she'll probably catch one helluva cold.

Warmth.

Olive was pressed up against something warm and soft, like some sort of blanket and if that didn’t take her out instantly, the exhaustion sure did.

[ineffably-good]

Have a Little Faith in Me (2/3)

Read Chapter One

If there’s one thing guaranteed to make a demon who’s feeling unworthy feel worse, it’s being reassured by his loved one that the thing he secretly wants isn’t actually on the table to begin with.

Crowley noticed at breakfast that the angel appeared to have something on his mind. He was a little distracted, not as absorbed in the lovely morning rituals he enjoyed of making tea and breakfast. He carried breakfast over to the table and laid out two plates of blueberry pancakes and then all but fiddled with his fork, not appearing even remotely interested in eating.

Crowley looked up from stuffing at least half of the top pancake into his mouth, to find Aziraphale watching him, with an cautious expression in his eyes he couldn’t read.

“Wha?” he mumbled around the huge mouthful of food.

Aziraphale smiled a little at that. “Please,” he said, making a gesture, “feel free to swallow first.”

Crowley mock-smiled at the angel but did manage to chew and swallow the food before he tried again. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he said.

Aziraphale sighed. “I just – I just wanted to tell you. In case you were wondering – “ He paused, clearly trying to choose his words carefully.

“C’mon, angel, out with it. I can’t read your mind.”

“It’s just that – well, I love you, for one.” Aziraphale said, putting a hand over Crowley’s on the breakfast table. “And if you’re at all concerned about it, I’m absolutely fine with what we have. I don’t need anything more than this.”

Crowley knew he should be patient and understanding, but his morning musings about why anyone would love a demon enough to marry had left him feeling raw before Aziraphale even said anything. This – this disavowal certainly didn’t help.

He put his fork down decisively. “What in the blazes are you on about, angel?” he snapped.

Aziraphale looked taken aback at the unexpected level of aggravation he’d encountered. “Why – just, I see how it bothers you when people make assumptions about our relationship, and I wanted to reassure you that –”

“Assumptions?” Crowley said. “Why would I mind people making the assumption that we’re together? It’s you who’s bothered by it.”

Aziraphale sat back, eyes wide. “I most certainly am not!”

“Oh, yes you are,” Crowley said, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “I saw how you reacted last night when that waitress said the m-word in front of us. You pounded down your port and gave her one of those brittle smiles that are all strained around the edges and looked like you’d like to discorporate.”

“I did that because you were completely frozen in shock!” Aziraphale retorted. “Couldn’t even swallow your drink for horror at the thought of us being married!” He heard his voice rising and somehow couldn’t seem to control himself at all. “And then you shouted at her! Made it quite clear how you felt about it!”

Crowley balled his napkin up and threw it onto his plate. “Oh for Go—Oh for Sata—Oh for fuck’s sake, Aziraphale, I wasn’t horrified! I was just afraid you’d take it badly! You’ve pretty much shut down every time it’s come up.” He took a deep breath and tried to rein the shout back down to a speaking tone, but he knew he didn’t quite succeed. What came out instead was more venomous than he intended. “Didn’t want you to decide it was all going too fast for you again!”

Crowley watched in angry, agonized desperation as that unfortunate comment lofted its way across the table and detonated on impact. Aziraphale looked like he had had the air knocked out of him.

“Oh,” he said finally, his voice oddly breathless. “Oh. That.”

Crowley, unable to bear the tension and a rising sense of guilt, got up and paced over to the counter, where he stood with his back to the table and ran his finger over the various bottles in their spice rack, not really seeing any of them.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice very small. “That was a long time ago, and I assure you I don’t feel that way any longer about us. I thought it had been rather obvious, actually, that I’m up to your speed, now. We’ve been living together for almost a year!”

Crowley felt a tightness in his chest that defied all rational sense. “I know we are. But I don’t know, do I, what you feel about the rest of it? If this is as much as you ever want us to have, or if you want to move to the country someday or if you want to have a big ridiculous wedding or if you’re still – still thinking it over on some level.”

Aziraphale’s heart ached. He stood and walked over to Crowley and hugged him from behind, laying his head against his shoulder blade. “My dear, I had no idea you were still doubting my commitment to you!” He swallowed the hurt he felt at the concept and tried to continue. “I love you. I adore you. I’m not going anywhere, not ever again. Not without you, that is. How could you doubt that?”

Crowley relaxed and tried to discreetly wipe his eyes. “’m sorry, angel,” he said, “I’m being ridiculous.”

Aziraphale reached up and turned the demon around to face him, reaching up to lay a kiss on his forehead. “You’re being a little more human than demon right now, that’s all,” he said. It was natural to be scared sometimes when you love someone as much as this, he thought. Love makes you so, so much more vulnerable to loss.

“It’s fucking unbearable,” Crowley muttered, as if he’d somehow heard the angel’s thoughts. “how much it would hurt to lose you.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley even tighter, and just held him. “You won’t. I promise you won’t. Just... have a little faith. In me, I mean.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, pressed up against the sink with Crowley’s head cradled on Aziraphale’s shoulder, just feeling the rise and fall of each other’s breathing. Aziraphale ran his fingers through the back of Crowley’s hair and felt the demon’s heart beat slow from a frantic, racing pace to a more comfortable thrum, and bit by bit some of the tension left his shoulders.

“I’d love to get married,” Crowley said, finally, his face buried in Aziraphale’s chest. “I just figured – you know, ‘m a demon and all. Makes sense, really. Can’t exactly be a feather in your cap to marry a demon.”

Aziraphale pushed back, affronted, and maneuvered Crowley until he was looking him right in the eye. “Anthony J. Crowley, don’t you dare say things like that about yourself. You are perfectly -- well, perfect for me. I don’t need a feather in my cap from Above. I need you. And if we ever did get married, I’d be delighted.”

Crowley searched the angel’s eyes and found only sincerity and an intense, mortifying level of love. “Ngk,” he said, his tongue suddenly several sizes too large for his mouth.

Aziraphale’s affronted look fell away and he laid another kiss on the demon’s forehead. “You’re a silly serpent, Crowley.” He kissed him again. “To be honest, the only reason I don’t care about whether we get married is because I essentially already think of you as my husband,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t see how we could possibly be more wedded to each other – do you?”

“Well no,” Crowley said. “You’re right, mostly. But, er, it could be kind of nice, couldn’t it? To make it official and all that. Have a big bloody party.”

Aziraphale smiled delightedly. “And rings?”

“Yes please,” Crowley said. God yes. “I’d love to wear a ring, for you. And for you to wear one! Be super handy for flashing in the face of all the hopeless, romantic twinks that come in the bookstore and make eyes at you, for one thing. The bigger the better. Maybe we could even get one that lights up, to really attract their attention.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “I really don’t think that happens anywhere near as frequently as you think it does, love.”

“It does, actually. You just don’t notice.” Crowley felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced for weeks. “All right, then,” he said. “I’m not asking today, like this -- not after an argument. When I ask you, it will be a much nicer experience than this. I promise.”

Aziraphale smiled a little mischeviously. “Or perhaps I’ll ask you,” he said.

Crowley grinned. “Not if I ask you first.”

“Oh, lovely,” Aziraphale said, his smile almost painfully bright. “Just what we need, another competition.”

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley said, leaning in to nip at the angel’s lower lip. “You need a distraction.” He bent down to kiss his neck in a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fine,” Aziraphale sighed dramatically, nearly bubbling over with sudden happiness. “Have your way with me, dear. Do your worst.”

Crowley did his best to comply.

[nadziejastar]

If both Lea and Isa went through mind control programming how did Axel turn out so well adjusted?

Axel Is A Fucked Up Guy

Ansem the Wise: Xehanort. Foolish apprentice of a foolish man. You have surpassed nothing—only proved how little we both know. We may profess to know the heart, but its essence is beyond our reach.

If you’re asking how a person could be subjected to mind control and still be a good person, and not a total psychopath…well…that’s kind of the mystery of the human condition, no? Polish psychologist Kazimierz Dąbrowski was caught in World War II and endured harsh incarceration in German prison system and later, he and his wife were imprisoned again in Stalin-controlled Poland. He said he could find no theory of psychology that could adequately explain both the lowest and most depraved behavior he saw, as well as the most heroic and highest acts he had witnessed in the war. He dedicated his life to the study of personality development.

Axel: We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet we still “are.” But now you can be nothing instead of just being a Nobody. You’re off the hook.

Vexen: No… Please don’t! I don’t want to—

Axel: Goodbye.

But I would actually argue that Axel was NOT well-adjusted, even though a lot of people might have interpreted him to be that way. Not at all. To me, KH3 is the only game that tried to make him seem well-adjusted and “normal”. A cool ice cream bro who breaks the fourth wall. Which I hated. And even then, there’s still plenty of signs that he’s not really recovered from his past.

It seems like a lot of people took Roxas and Xion’s understanding of Axel—a happy-go-lucky big brother—at face value. But it was clear that they didn’t know him at all. He had a very tragic life. He used to be a normal, happy kid and became a lonely, cynical, bitter assassin. He absolutely despised the organization. You could tell that he took great pleasure when he eliminated Vexen. It had nothing to do with some phantom girl he wasn’t sure existed. He said he had “no one to be”.It was very personal. 

Sora: None of that matters! Just put Riku back!

Vexen: Just put him back? The Riku you speak of…has but one fate, to sink into the darkness—and you will share that fate, Sora! If you continue to seek the girl, Naminé, the shackles will tighten, you’ll lose your heart…and end up becoming Marluxia’s pawn!

Personally, I think Axel especially enjoyed killing Vexen when Sora began pleading with him to change Riku back. That would hit really close to home, and must have been a HUGE trigger for him. Whether he was planning to already or not, that was when Vexen needed to die. I also think it’s why he took such a liking to Sora. 

It was Sora’s devotion to Riku that stood out the most to Axel in Castle Oblivion. Even more than his connection to Roxas.Right after Sora and Riku had a fight, Axel has a scene with Naminé.

Axel: Heh heh… I know exactly how you feel. Don’t get your hopes up. Nobodies can’t be somebodies. But think, Naminé. I’m sure there’s SOMETHING you could do…

This is Axel’s quote from the original Chain of Memories.

Axel: Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart. But don’t waste your time. We Nobodies can never hope to be somebodies.

And this is his quote from Re:Chain of Memories. He’s a LOT colder to her. And I don’t think it was because he had no heart. I think he was so cold to her because he had begun to develop a heart. Naminé’s the wedge that’s driving two close childhood friends apart. It hit WAY too close to home for Axel. And he truly hated her for it. He was dead serious when he said he had absolutely NO sympathy for her.

Riku: Hmph. Too bad, Sora. You can fight me all you want, but I still won’t remember a thing.

Sora: C'mon, Riku… Let’s quit fighting—let’s go help Naminé.

Riku: Together—right. So like you… …Sora—you’re always trying to worm your way into my heart!

Sora: Hold on! When did I ever do that?

Riku: Hmph, you forgot that, too? You never cared. It never mattered to you!

Sora: You won’t push me away.

He knew how the Riku Replica felt, thinking his friend didn’t care about him. And he knows only too well how Sora felt, trying to “worm his way” into his friend’s heart, only to be coldly rejected. And everything about it disgusted him. Sora is a lot like Lea. It made him remember what it was like to have such a strong bond, and how traumatized he was when he lost it. But Sora refused to take no for an answer. Just like him. But of course, that wasn’t really Riku anyways. Axel knew that. Sora’s friendship will be okay. But Axel’s won’t.

Axel: Is that your shield? Won’t do you any good, I’m afraid.

Axel wanted to save Sora. But he couldn’t have cared less if he killed Naminé. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. If anything, he would have been more than happy to do it. He knew she was an innocent young girl who was just an unwilling pawn of the Organization. He didn’t care. It’s so messed up if you think about it. He’d murder a terrified little girl—and he’d do it with a smile on his face. That’s how much he hated anyone who would cause a rift between childhood friends. That’s how devastated he was after the loss of Isa. He has extreme, deep-seated hatred inside of him.

Axel didn’t waste a second grabbing his chakrams. But his body was reluctant somehow.

I don’t want to disappear… But still, it wouldn’t be so bad if I did. Not here.

Axel let out a deep breath and leaped into the air as flames erupted around them.

“…Pathetic!” The Claymore moved to block Axel’s strike, while Saïx himself didn’t even twitch.

This is a pretty overwhelming disadvantage, Axel thought. Well, I knew that before we started fighting. I can’t win against Saïx with my own strength.

Still, he refused to hesitate. He had to force this path open. He wanted…to find hope—the hope that Sora and Riku had.

Saïx gave him a cruel grin. “You will lose everything!” And then the Claymore pierced Axel’s chest.

In my opinion, Axel changed because of Sora and Riku. When he came back from Castle Oblivion, his relationship with Saïx became very strained. Those two reminded him of what he used to have, and it’s unbearable to him that he no longer has it. At the end of KH2, while fighting Saïx, he said that he wanted the hope that Sora and Riku had. He wished that Saïx was just a fake replica the whole time, and that none of the awful things he said were true. The real version had actually gone away to protect him, but he’d show up later, and they could go back to being friends. Hmmm.

Sora: What are you— What ARE you people?!

Axel: Hm… Don’t know. I wonder about that myself.

When Axel saw the way Sora reacted when he killed Vexen, it made him feel ashamed. He realized that “normal” people are horrified by his actions, even when he is acting on their behalf. Sora was furious with Vexen, but even he was appalled by what Axel did.

Sora: After I finish you, he’s next!

Axel: Hmph. Now, Sora. We’ve got more in common than you might think. I’d really rather not fight you… But I can’t dishonor the Organization, now, can I?

Axel: You’re better than I thought you’d be. It was worth saving you after all.

Axel identifies with Sora, but Sora sees him as a monster. Maybe he was relatively well-adjusted compared to some of his fellow Organization members, at least in the morality department. But his “happy-go-lucky big brother” persona was mostly just a facade to cover up a very dysfunctional and wounded person. That was the mask he was comfortable showing outwardly. But it was not his true self.

Day 74: Xion’s Face

Honestly, I never got why Roxas was so crazy about Xion. I know they both joined up around the same time, and they’re both rookies, but how do you get so close to somebody who hides their face all the time? Well, I saw it today. All of a sudden, No. XIV up and takes off…her hood. Xion is a girl, and she looks just like Naminé.

It’s why he acted so strangely when he saw Xion’s face for the first time. He’s looking into the face of the little girl he was willing to murder, who is now asking to be his friend. It freaked him the fuck out. And it made him feel like total shit.

Roxas: When I saw her lying there… I couldn’t stop thinking that she’ll never wake up.

Axel: She will.

Roxas: Saïx called her “broken.”

Axel: Hmm… Well, if it cheers you up, I’m probably a lot more broken than her.

Underneath the mask, was a really fucked up guy who had a LOT of issues. And he KNEW it.

Axel stretched his neck and munched on his ice cream. “You know, I don’t mind disappearing.”

Naminé’s breath caught.

Riku stared at him.

“Roxas is gone. When we bring Kairi here, Naminé will be gone, too. So, same for me,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather, and then punctuated his comment with another bite of sea-salt ice cream.

“We don’t disappear… We’re only reborn,” Naminé murmured, perhaps to herself.

“I’m not like you and Roxas,” Axel said flatly. His hand holding the ice pop stick paused in midair.

“But—but you…” She looked down, clenching her fists.

“It’s because I don’t have a heart,” Axel went on. “I don’t want to disappear, but I’m not upset or sad about it.”

Why was he so convinced that he’s not like Roxas and Naminé? Because he’s not innocent anymore. He’s not going to get a next life because he doesn’t think he deserves one. In his mind, he’s not a good person. He’s done bad things. And he’s poisoned by hatred. I think that’s exactly why he clung to Roxas and Xion so much in the first place, aside from sheer loneliness.

They made him remember who he was before he became so fucked up. But he’d never, EVER tell them some of the things he’s done, or what he’s truly capable of. They’d be horrified and he knows it. He’s always eating ice cream during stressful moments in the novel. Even when he’s literally dying. The shittier he feels, the more he eats. The ice cream is comforting to him because it’s something he used to do in the past with Isa. It reminds him of better days. It’s almost like an addiction. Sea-salt ice cream is viewed as this cute, happy thing. But the reason it is so significant to Axel is because he’s in unbearable pain.

Kairi: So, you gonna try yours on?

Lea: Uh…I dunno. Maybe later.

Kairi: But you always wear the same thing.

Lea: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This is how you pick me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember.

Even in KH3, he won’t take off his old clothes and always stares off into the distance. In my opinion, this has nothing to do with Roxas or Xion. It’s because he’s got baggage. Serious unresolved baggage, connected to his time in the Organization XIII cult. I cannot describe how much I despise the way KH3 downplayed this, and made it seem like his only problem in life was not having Roxas around to hang out with. It felt SO out-of-character to me. Of course he’d want to see Roxas again (who is actually Ventus, IMO). But his entire life doesn’t and shouldn’t revolve around that. He had a life before Roxas and that deserved attention. Isa was the root cause of Lea’s pain.

Axel’s title in the series translates into English as “Flurry of Dancing Flames,” but this doesn’t quite capture the meaning of the original Japanese. The English title implies that Axel himself is fire, but the literal parsing of the Japanese phrase is more like “dancing fire’s wind.”

I think that Axel’s title is about Isa. “Tandava” or dance of destruction, is a divine dance performed by the Hindu god Shiva, where he is infamously depicted surrounded by a circle of flames. It symbolizes the cycles of creation and destruction. Sati grew up devoted to Shiva and spurned the advances of rich kings to the point where she left for a forest to escape the constant proposals. Eventually Shiva consented to make her his bride, and, elated, Sati went to share the news with her father.

Axel: Nothing lasts forever, man. Least of all for a bunch of Nobodies. But you know, we’ll still have each other…even if things change and we can’t do this anymore.

Roxas: Yeah?

Axel: As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart. Got it memorized?

Roxas: Ha ha, wow, Axel. That sounded ridiculous.

Axel: What? I thought it was pretty deep.

However, upon her father’s expression of his disapproval of her marriage, she immolated herself, praying to one day be reborn as a daughter to a father she could respect. Angered and grief-stricken after learning of Sati’s death, Shiva performed a terrible Tandava. The more Shiva danced, the more destruction arose. Out of grief and sorrow, Shiva carried Sati’s body and roamed around the universe with it, reminiscing of their moments as a couple. It sounds a lot like Axel to me. His relationship with Saïx is akin to carrying a corpse around. Isa’s even got the giant scar on his forehead which literally means “death”.

Eventually, Sati was reborn as Parvati. This time, she was born the daughter of a father whom she could respect; a father who appreciated Shiva ardently. Naturally, she grew up to be a beautiful woman and over time, she grew to love Shiva with her whole heart. Eventually, they married. The two are literally inseparable, as they have a form where they are fused together as one. Their fused form is another symbol of duality. It’s basically the Hindu version of the Red King and White Queen of alchemy.

Another reason I think Axel’s title was about Isa? Well, because that’s what his Mystery Gear weapon was about, too. The Jade Emperor wanted to test the virtue of the hare and his friends. They all gave him food. But the hare had no food except the grass growing in the forest. So he told the Jade Emperor to build a fire, and when the fire was burning, he said “I have nothing to give you to eat but myself!” Then, the hare threw himself into the fire.

Of course, the Jade Emperor caused the fire to go instantly cold so that the hare was not burned, and then revealed his true form. And then he painted the hare’s likeness on the face of the moon for all to see, so that his virtue would be remembered throughout the ages. The rabbit was unharmed and lived happily ever after. In some versions, he actually is taken to the moon and becomes immortal. But the rabbit hasn’t gotten to the moon yet. He doesn’t know that the Isa he remembers is still alive.

Xemnas: There hangs the heart of all hearts–Kingdom Hearts–shining down on us at last. See the countless hearts that have gathered? Hearts full of rage…hate…sadness…and bliss. There, in the sky, hangs the promise of a new world.

In addition to his own abuse, Axel is fucked up because of Isa. He’s angry at what they did to him, and he’s devastated over losing him. He was an emotional wreck, filled with rage, hate, and sadness. His entire arc was building up suspense for the “bliss” part…and then they did a bait-and-switch.

[nano-the-robot-blog]

A Vent

Hello. My name is nano (not really, of course), I’m an art student from rural Britain, and I really need a place to vent right now. I don’t know if anyone will read this, or if any of those people will know me, but at this point I don’t really care.

Since childhood, I’ve lived a very privileged life. My family aren’t well off but we get by, my father has always had a job and my mother has always looked after my brother and I. They have their flaws and we’ve had our arguments, but my parents really are amazing. However, unfortunately, that doesn’t grant me ease of passage through life - especially with the world in the state it’s in right now.

I know that I have it much better than a lot of people, and I have always known that. I tend to get things in halves. I have autism spectrum disorder, but I’m not nonverbal and most people don’t even notice. I have fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, but I’m not wheelchair-bound. I have depression and anxiety, but I’ve never attempted suicide. I have an atypical eating disorder, not anorexia or bulimia (for those out there who do suffer with any of the things I’ve mentioned, my heart goes out to you. I may never understand your struggle but I will always strive to do the best I can to help, and I hope that you can all get through your respective hardships).

Now, as you can probably tell, I’m a very average person. Average height, average weight, average education and average skill levels. My brother, on the other hand, is a little less conventional. He has moderate to severe autism with learning difficulties which he was diagnosed with at quite a young age, and although he has yet to be diagnosed with it, my mother swears that he has pathological demand avoidance. He is also fairly tall and quite overweight, making him a formidable opponent.

These factors add up - the autistic meltdowns, the avoidance of any helpful behaviour and the refusal of commands and the sheer size of him - to make him an absolutely unbearable person to live with. He frequently attacks my family and I, both physically and verbally and with varying degrees of severity. It gets to the point, fairly often, that the police have to be called. My entire family have had to literally sit on his back in order to restrain him before, and it only gets worse once he is taken into hospital. At one point, he had four fully trained, adult police officers holding him down on a hospital bed. He’s had handcuffs, leg braces, the whole nine yards. It’s hell for everyone else in the family - and not just the humans. We have a menagerie of pets in the house as we are all animal lovers (aside from my father, though he does adore our dogs) and, though my brother doesn’t directly hurt them, the effect on them is clear. Our two dogs, one a huge Labrador/Rottweiler/Springer cross and the other a tiny Jack Russel/Pug mix, are utterly terrified every time he kicks off. They can even feel the tension in the air when we’re “walking on thin ice”, as my mother puts it, or when he’s on the edge of a meltdown. We also have three cats who don’t seem too bothered, although he has held up my cat (the oldest, and the smallest) and threatened to choke her before. I also have four beautiful young budgerigars who experienced his wrath for the very first time today, and it’s safe to say that they weren’t a fan. I’m hoping that they will be okay, though, since wild budgies will suffer much more worrying encounters in Australia.

Today, however, my brother went too far. He directed his anger towards the animals - my animals specifically - and me. My mother spent three days painting a gorgeous high sleeper bed which I only just got. I tried to help out, and I kept her company, but I’m just too sick to do such a physical task. Mom just naturally took over and eventually offered to paint the whole thing - even though she herself is ill. Like I said, my parents are amazing. The bed was a real labour of love for Mom, and she did an amazing job - despite the various hardships faced during the process. It was a real bonding experience for my mother and I, which was sorely needed as my mental health is pretty much non-existent at the moment. I’ll explain this as briefly as I can, just to give an idea of how much this affects me.

Recently, I’ve been suffering hugely with an atypical eating disorder. This possibly started when my ex broke up with me about two years ago, and very slowly built up over the past two years until recently, I stopped eating almost entirely and cut myself down to one small meal per day. The sudden change may or may not have been caused by my final major project in college, which I put my heart and soul into and which ended recently. I got the grade I wanted, but the residual stress left from it certainly took its toll, and my fate was sealed. I became more depressed than ever before and my anxiety, autism and (at the time mild) ED suffered the same way. I isolated myself from all of my friends, even my best friend - our relationship has been recovering slowly but surely from a very rough patch we had last year. I love her more than any other human, but I find it simply impossible to connect with another human being at the moment. My relationship with my parents is also hugely strained since they have to force me to eat now, and though we both know that it’s for the best, it puts a new barrier up between us. Another rather significant contributor is the fact that I have feelings for somebody I can never be with, and I’m quite sure he’s catching feeling for another girl who I’m also friends with, which simply gives me more reasons to distance myself from them. Regardless, back to the current situation.

It started small and simple, like all the worst things do. My mattress is in my parents’ room at the moment, as I can’t risk touching my paint-covered bed. My room also stinks of paint which makes it hard to sleep. My snakes are still in my room, though, as we couldn’t move them. My brother threw a cushion at me through the door. That’s all. I was lying in bed, exhausted and ill, and he threw a pillow at me. I said nothing, threw the pillow onto my parents’ bed, and went back to watching videos. A few minutes later, he threw a doorstop at me. It was heavy, and hit me in the hip, so it hurt a lot more than the cushion did. Again, I said nothing, and texted Mom to tell her what was happening. She came up the stairs pretty quickly, questioning my brother about it in a sympathetic tone. She knows him best, and is the best at diffusing situations like this. Like me, he said nothing. After a short while of her talking to him, though, he shoved past her out of his room and into hers, where I was still lying. I was hesitant to leave the bed, stupidly enough, because I wasn’t wearing trousers. However, my brother soon began threatening (nonverbally, of course) to throw his entire fifteen-pound body onto the mattress and on top of me. I wasn’t about to find out how many of my bones would be broken as I’m fragile enough already, so on request of my mother, I scurried off to the other side of my parents’ bed. He followed. I was hissed at to go into my room, which is what I did. No more than five minutes later, with me now holding a very nervous small dog, I hear a fierce BANG! and my door jumps. I’ve got an old door, one of the originals of our house, and I’ve never seen it budge before. At this point, I realised that he was going to break it down. Another few minutes passed until it happened once more, and once more was all it took. I stuck my legs out, thankfully, and caught the door on my feet, pushing it to the side. Thank goodness it somehow didn’t reach the snake tanks which were mere inches away, as they would have no doubt been shattered. We all knew it now; his anger was directed toward me and me alone. He kept advancing and my mother shooed me out of the room. I grabbed the dogs and hurried them into the utility, turned the light off and crouched down with them in the diffused light from the kitchen. He couldn’t see me, nobody could see me. We were safe. They all came downstairs fairly soon and my dad found me first. He said nothing, simply gave me a stressed look and went back into the kitchen. My mom then came out a few minutes later and informed me that my brother had backed himself onto my sofa, which is currently up against the snake tanks, and had started banging his hands on the glass. Any reptile owners well know that this is an awful situation for any reptile, especially snakes. Even just tapping on their tanks stresses them out to no end. They can stop eating for weeks, and if it’s bad enough, the poor things can even die. I did check the snakes after the whole ordeal and thankfully, they are all still alive and at least one of them is still ready to eat. My brother soon found my hiding place and started advancing again. I had nowhere left to go - my room, the only safe place, was destroyed. I just had to run upstairs and hang around for a while. I could hear him shifting furniture, and the occasional yell from one of my parents as he hit them. I know from experience that his blows are nothing to be scoffed at.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but somehow he ended up in my room again, but this time he turned his attention to my bed. Mom was appalled. The face she made was one of sheer horror; she had spent so much time and energy to get it to such a good condition and he had just ruined three days of work. She cried into my shoulder, weeping about the lack of consideration he has for others. I agreed, and we both muttered that we didn’t want him here any more.

That may seem harsh, to you. Who would want their own brother to leave for good? I would have agreed with you, if it weren’t for literal years of constant abuse from this boy, this monster. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he can be a perfectly innocent child (he is 15, but his mental state is at the point where he is internally 8 or 9), and then within moments he can switch to some inhuman, unfeeling being of nothing but hate. He cannot be reasoned with, he can only be fought.

He’s gone now, they all are. Mom and him were taken to hospital in an ambulance, and my father followed shortly after. My snakes are alive, my budgies are fine and everything has gone quiet. This will happen again, and it’ll never stop until something is done - but that’s just the thing. What do we do? We’ve jumped through the hoops, we’ve waited years for people to help us and nobody will.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to seem like an attention seeker, but I genuinely fear that if this type of thing carries on, I’ll try to kill myself. Tonight put so much strain on my mental state, and each new episode increases that strain so much, that I don’t think it will be too long until I snap.

Sorry that this has been my first post on this blog. It was meant to be an art blog but I’m no longer going to be doing that as I’m completely rebranding myself. This will be a personal blog for me to write about my life - a kind of journal, I suppose.

All the best,

nano

[winetae]

⇁ paper doll | 02

⇁ Jungkook x Reader

⇁ drama, mature, slight angst || idol+singer-songwriter!au, fake dating!au

⇁ 11.6k

When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was responsible for breaking your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed—it was you.

↳ alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

::00::01::02::

↳ in which being forced to date Jungkook wouldn’t have sucked this bad if 1) he wasn’t your ex-boyfriend and 2) he didn’t hate your guts

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{ when you say those words to me, tears splatter like ink / you fold me up carelessly until i crease }

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“Let’s break up.”

There had been no preamble, nothing to soften the blow. Your words were curt and to the point—as if keeping it short would somehow be less painful, like ripping off a band-aid in one go.

If prime-time SBS dramas had taught him anything, relationships always ended with explosive arguments and waterworks. But there were no mascara tracks running down your cheeks, no redness or moisture present in your eyes. Instead, your face was carefully blank, expression conveying boredom, and your voice was monotone, void of feeling.

Jungkook’s knee-jerk reaction had been denial.

“What’s gotten into you?” Convinced he’d heard you wrong, he nudged your shoulder, the corners of his mouth straining into a smile.

There had been a time when he hadn’t been as sensitive—but that had been before his packed schedule had created a rift in his relationship, before it had become normal to antagonize each other for trivial reasons. The past weeks had been particularly busy for him, his practice more grueling than usual due to the impending comeback, and he could feel the gap separating you from him grow with every passing day a call was left unreturned.

If he was to be truthful, he would admit that he had intentionally ignored your messages and voicemails, preferring to avoid you than to waste what remained of his energy to pick a fight. Sometimes weeks would pass without contact, yet the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it was to ignore how much he had missed you, especially when he couldn’t remember what had triggered the argument in the first place.

Jungkook wasn’t sure when the toxic cycle had started but it had become a routine of sorts—you’d fight over the most insignificant reasons and after days of painful radio silence, you’d pretend like nothing had ever occurred, like the scars you’d burned into each other’s skin never existed.

He was now used to the constant cycle of rinse and repeat, slowly becoming numb to it all. The words ‘I love you’ and ‘I hate you’ had stopped carrying meaning altogether. Somewhere along the way, he had lost himself. He didn’t know what was real anymore... Maybe that was why you kept pushing each other, digging into open wounds. If it hurt, it meant he still cared, didn’t it?

Deep down, he hated fighting with you, even if it seemed like that was all he was capable of doing. The days when everything had been simpler seemed like a distant dream. Yet despite all logic he found himself yearning for the impossible.

So when you had agreed to meet up today, he had taken it as a sign that you were willing to leave everything in the past and start afresh—letting go of old grudges and wordlessly forgiving any barbed exchange that had taken place.

While the other members were resting, passed out from exhaustion, Jungkook had managed to sneak out of the dorms with the excuse of going to the convenience store for a quick bite. On his way over, he had felt immeasurably lighter as if a heavy weight had seemingly lifted from his shoulders.

As his eyes swept over you, he felt something tug at his heartstrings, an odd and displaced feeling of longing washing over him. You were his girlfriend, one of his best friends, and yet as he approached you, the distance separating you from him didn’t seem to close.  

So when you missed your cue to laugh your statement off as a joke, he felt himself become rigid as the reality of the situation started to dawn on him. Something about this encounter was different, even if he couldn’t place it. You weren’t saying this to coax a reaction from him; you weren’t just throwing words around so that he could prove he still cared.

Instead of anger or spitefulness tainting your tone, he could see the tired lines wrinkling your brow, the lifelessness in your expression.

His heart lurched dangerously in his chest as you spoke the next words.

“I think it’s best if we break up,” you repeated, almost casually. If he hadn’t known any better, you would’ve almost fooled him into thinking that you were discussing something as trivial as the weather.

He searched your gaze in an attempt to assess how serious your statement was. Blank eyes stared back at him, and no matter how long he looked, he could not find one speck of warmth. It was as if someone had sucked your soul out and left a gaping hole in its place.

The affection that he was used to seeing in your eyes, the same one he had watched dwindle over time, had been entirely extinguished—it was then he knew that all the love you had was truly gone.

Yet the most stubborn part of himself refused to believe what he saw, preferring to deny reality until the end.

“What?” He blinked stupidly back at you, incapable of formulating anything else. Internally, he felt like the world had frozen at his feet and that he was trying in vain to stay upright. His feet kept slipping, only seconds away from tumbling.

It felt too stuffy in his oversized sweatshirt. Pulling at the hem, he fought the urge to take it off—anything to cool him and make it easier to breathe. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he clenched them into fists, his short nails digging into the crevice of his palms. The edge of pain made it easier to focus and make sense of the jumbled mess of emotions inside of him.

Disbelief and confusion gave way to guilt.

If he had treated you better... If he had tried a little harder to mend his relationship... He tried to pinpoint the exact moment that had caused you to tip over but came up short. Maybe if he had been able to spot the warning signs, he would’ve been able to avoid this predicament altogether. Where had it all gone wrong?

As his mind whirled through a loop of should’ve-would’ve-could’ve’s, he noticed how unaffected you appeared, unaware of his internal crisis. Whilst his entire world had turned upside-down by three simple words, why did it seem like you couldn’t care less?  

Your attitude rubbed him the wrong way; he could feel anger and frustration overtake him as he recalled the past few weeks. Admittedly, he hadn’t made the most noticeable effort to salvage his relationship, but at least he had tried. All you had done was prod, nitpicking his every flaw, attacking him over matters he had no control over.

“I don’t want to keep you for long... I know you’re busy.” You spoke up after the silence had become too unbearable. “Let’s part ways here.”

Feeling his time run out, desperation clawed at his chest while panic bubbled in his stomach. He said your name, his expression pleading for you to reconsider.

Jungkook knew the relationship had been far from ideal. But he also knew he loved you. Beneath all of the resentment and bitterness, he loved you so much that it had been impossible to envision any outcome without you by his side.

“Please.” He felt his throat close up, the words difficult to get out even when he tried forcing them out. “Just— Don’t do this. We can, I—I can be better, I know I can. It’s been hard but I know things can get better so just, just wait a little. I know I fuck up a lot but... You can’t give up like this.”

Distantly, he could hear his own voice rise in panic, his desperation bleeding through. All of his emotions melded together into one big ball of distress. Words had never been his forte and he panicked all the more because he knew, in his deepest of hearts, that this was a lost battle from the start. “I really, fuck— I don’t, can you just give me a little more time? I just need time to sort things out, but I promise that it—”

“I’ll leave first, okay? Take care.” You cut off his rambling with a jerky nod of your head, raising your shoulder into a shrug as you readjust the strap of your bag.

If he had been capable of speech, perhaps he would have tried harder to dissuade you. As it was, your icy demeanor had numbed his every muscle to the core, rendering him incapable of movement. His tongue felt heavy and useless in his mouth, the muscle unwilling to cooperate with him. He could only watch you turn your back to him without sparing him a second glance. Every step you took felt like a kick to the stomach, yet all he could do was watch and let it happen.

Jungkook parted his cracked lips to call out after you, but your name stayed stuck in his throat like a pill that refused to be washed down.

Eyes stinging from unshed tears, his fingers stretched out towards you in a belated attempt to keep you at his side. His digits wrapped around the phantom of your presence before his arm eventually swung back to where it had been, his hand cold and empty.

Was this what break-ups were supposed to feel like? All he could do was laugh, the hoarse sound barely veiling his incredulity, as he watched your figure become a small dot in the distance, eventually blending in with the rest of the crowd.

You had erased yourself from his life with such ease that he would’ve felt insulted had the hurt drumming in his chest not prevailed. Leaving him with nothing but warped memories and the acidic taste of betrayal, Jungkook swore he had never hated you as much as he had right then.

Little did he know that you would worm your way back into his life despite his best attempts to keep you at bay. He would never stop hating you.

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Present day, Seoul.

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Finally hidden from the hawk-eyed gaze of your superiors, you felt like you could finally breathe again. With weak knees, you staggered back to lean against the corridor wall, your head falling back in defeat. You felt mentally and emotionally drained, like the meeting had sucked out every last bit of your soul. 

If someone were to see you now, they’d reprimand you for not being able to keep up appearances. Do you think you’re the only one suffering now? Get a grip and pull yourself together. But there were no cameras around, no one to criticize your slumped shoulders or the dark expression present on your face. 

You allowed the slip in composure as you recalled the evening’s earlier events.

The hands of the clock had moved at a snail’s pace—your nightmare interminable.

Every time you had sneaked a look at your phone under the table, it had felt like staring at a still frame; the digits frozen in time. As the sky outside began to ink into black, the more unbearable the tension in the room had become. The higher-ups had given up on any semblance of courtesy, both camps adamant to reach an agreement in their favor. Although everyone present had been itching to go home, your company refused to settle for less than they believed themselves entitled to. 

Stuck in the middle, you had wished for nothing more than to crawl under the comfort of your blankets back home and never come out. Only sheer force of will had kept you from doing so. After all, now would be the worst possible time for a mental breakdown. At the slightest sign of weakness, everyone waiting for you to fuck up would descend on you like a pack of famished wolves, eager to end you before you began. You’d be damned if you let them.

But they certainly made it difficult to remain stoic. For them, this discussion meant graph chart predictions and profit forecasts and stuff you had no real knowledge about. They talked in numbers and jargon you couldn’t keep up with. All you knew was that your future and your reputation were on the line, your entire career at stake. If the wrong decision was taken, would you ever be able to recover? You had no solid fanbase yet, no one to back you up even if you fucked up monumentally. 

Knowing that they held so much power over you reminded you that you were but a pawn in their chess game—only a means to an end.

Just because you had always been aware of this fact didn’t mean it had been easy to accept. Nothing in the world is free, you had been told. Your dreams can be turned into reality—but at a price. And like in all fairy tales, you had been willing to trade anything in exchange, no matter the cost, your desires outweighing your fears.

Had you known the stakes would be this high, you might have paused to reconsider. Clearly, you had underestimated your company’s greed.

"We have high expectations,” they had announced, not asking for neither your opinion nor permission. "The buzz surrounding the both of you will be sufficient to draw in the public’s attention. That’s all we need, really. We’re confident enough to say that the song will be a guaranteed success. There is no reason for it not to do well. You see, we've got all the needed ingredients for a hit song already… "

From a marketing standpoint, now was the ideal time to release a duet. It was a bold move, but the executives were confident such a song would generate the most profit and interest. “We need to strike while the iron is still hot.”

But for you, the unwilling designated songwriter, this project was beginning to look like your worst nightmare.

Writing songs about Jungkook had never been an issue; you had dozens of dusty notebooks inked in unsung love letters to prove it. But as you sat across from the muse in question, separated only by a conference table , it became apparent that the upcoming task wouldn’t be as easy as claimed. 

Being forced into a professional setting with someone who had previously had his mouth all over your nakedness made your skin crawl with unease. It was uncomfortable enough keeping up a pretense of normalcy in such circumstances... And, on top of that, they expected you to sing a love song of all things with him? God was truly testing your strength of will. 

A duet? The mere thought was enough to make you nauseous, your stomach rumbling in protest. Only a miracle had kept you from crumbling in on yourself during the meeting as a barrage of questions ran through your mind. How many hours would you have to spend with him recording, practicing, promoting...? You wouldn’t put it past your company to milk your misfortune for what it was worth. 

Collaborating with an ex-boyfriend had never been very high up on your bucket list. Especially when said ex wanted nothing to do with you.

To his credit, Jungkook had looked less than thrilled by this suggestion. With a somber expression, he hadn’t cast a single glance in your direction. Hard lines had marred his handsome face and the perpetual frown told you that he would rather gut dried anchovies for a living than be forced to sit through another minute of the meeting.

You wondered if he was set on ignoring you throughout the entirety of this forced arrangement. Maybe it was for the best. If each of you kept to yourselves, lines clearly drawn, then it would be easy to keep your feelings in check. Memories could stay buried in the recesses of your mind, unperturbed. That was what you tried convincing yourself, even though you suspected reality wouldn’t be so kind. After all, how could you possibly regard Jungkook as just another work colleague when the truth was far from that?

“Ah—You haven’t left yet, Jihae-ssi.”

The sound of your stage name roused you out of your musings. Only newer staff members in your company used it; the other ones had had a difficult time adjusting after referring to you by your birth name for so long.

A man in his early thirties stood in front of you, his car keys dangling from his right hand. He smiled politely at you, the muscles on his face slightly strained. You recognized fake courtesy when you saw it, but refrained from commenting. It was nothing new.

Your eyes swept over his nondescript appearance, noting nothing noteworthy or eye-catching. You had a hard time associating his plain features to a name. His face looked vaguely familiar and only belatedly did you recognize him as the staff member following Jungkook around earlier.

“Manager-nim is bringing the car around...” You trailed off, attention diverted as Jungkook, the man responsible for your woes, appeared in your peripheral vision. 

He noticed your presence almost at the same time as you noticed his. Eyes rounded in surprise, his movements slowed to a halt as he debated whether or not to acknowledge your existence with more than a look of disgust. 

Something about the expression in his eyes made your chest constrict but you hurried to push aside the dull throb from your mind. 

His face had always been an open book, easy to read, and you could see how much this was killing him inside. Similarly, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do or how to behave. The current state of affairs put you both in an awkward and uncomfortable position you were not equipped to handle.

If you had run into him backstage at a music broadcast, you would have bowed out of respect because such formalities were required of you, if only to keep up appearances. But now that the lines defining your relationship had been blurred once again, you had no clue how to label him—should you call him a sunbae? An acquaintance? A boyfriend? Your head hurt from thinking about it. 

A heavy tension settled between the two of you. His manager shifted his weight from foot to foot, apprehension written all over his face. It was like he expected the both of you to tear at each other’s throats at any given moment. 

You debated for a moment, wondering if you should attempt to act like the bigger person and initiate a conversation. You briefly examined your manicure with fake interest, admiring the encrusted rhinestones that glittered under the overhead light. Stalling.

Sometimes it was easier to slip into the persona associated with your stage name and put up a false front. Whenever your emotions threatened to overtake logic, it was easier to pretend to be Jihae, the sweet and polite girl everyone saw on camera. You knew exactly how she’d react in your shoes—what she’d say and what she’d do. Distantly, you knew that taking refuge behind this mask could only be a temporary fix to your problems, that you’d have to deal with the chaos raging in your chest sooner or later, but you conveniently chose to put those thoughts aside for the time being. 

The corners of your mouth upturned into a well practiced smile and you tilted your head in greeting. You knew that your expression had been smoothed over, all hard lines from the fatigue that weighed on you pressed away. The feigned sincerity was the result of hours of relentless practice in front of a mirror. You knew that they’d see what everyone else saw—what you wanted everyone to see. 

But beneath the veneer of civility, there were cracks that neither time nor wisdom could fix.

It was easy to claim you would move on and put your past behind you—after all, that would be the appropriate, adult-like response everyone expected. But the rehearsed lines lacked conviction, even as you repeated them to yourself for the nth time that day, hoping the repeated litany would somehow turn them into truth. 

The truth slowly bled through the fissures, imperceptible to the untrained eye. Jungkook’s dark gaze pierced yours and inwardly you felt your heartbeat kick-start, worry seizing you. He had always been incredibly perceptive when he wanted to be and you wondered if he could still read you with the same ease he used to. A long time ago, he had been the only one in the world to know you inside out. But that had been before you started keeping each other at an arm’s length, secrets slowly widening the gap between you.

His features twisted into a scowl, the lines between his eyebrows creasing. Your eyes flicked to it, recalling a distant memory of you thumbing it over as you tried to comfort him. 

Quickly averting your stare, you swallowed thickly. Your cheeks hurt as you maintained a pleasant expression, the corner of your lips twitching from the strain. Which was odd... On any other day, you would have no trouble keeping up appearances, fully capable of blazing through hours of the day without flinching, a smile permanently etched onto your face. 

“Don’t you look pleased,” sneered Jungkook, the bite in voice unmistakable. “Although I can’t say I’m surprised. This is what you were after from the start, wasn’t it? Fuck...”

A laugh forced its way from his throat, the sound bordering on hysterical. He ran a hand through his locks, visibly distressed. 

“You know,” he wet his lips, his eyes narrowing to a glare. “My company warned me not to date girls like you. Said that dating a non celebrity was a risk I shouldn’t take because you might post shit online to get internet famous or sell me out to the tabloids for some quick cash. I defended you so much back then, got into f—”

“Jungkook.” His manager’s hand was firm on his shoulder; a subtle reminder that they were still in public. Jungkook deflated, the fight slowly leaving him, leaving only resentment in its place.

Inwardly, you seethed. 

So this was what he thought of you? You knew that you had parted on bad terms but did he honestly believe you'd stoop that low? Was it the anger talking or did he truly despise you? 

Earlier, you had felt bad about getting him dragged into this mess but now that same guilt morphed into anger, black spots crowding your vision as another memory hit you head on. 

“What took you so long? You know I can’t be seen in public like this.”

“I got held up again,” you grit out, annoyed.

It was always about him these days, always about his fans and his job while you were left trying to work your way around his schedule. You hadn’t minded, not at first, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to sneak past your teachers. You had never been the world’s greatest actress. They had started doubting you, narrowing their eyes in suspicion as you tried to keep coming up with plausible excuses explaining why you had to leave practice early.

Everything seemed to pile up inside you; the stress, the worries, the doubts. What hurt the most was that Jungkook never seemed to acknowledge your efforts to try to keep your relationship afloat. No matter what you did, you were always in the wrong. It angered you. He angered you.

When you met each other like this, it wasn’t fun or relaxing or romantic. You were always meeting in some holed-up restaurant at unconventional hours of the night. Just eating together was stressful; the weight of invisible eyes reminded you to be careful of your every movement in case someone watching misconstrued the situation. 

There was nothing intimate about your dates anymore. Jungkook was always wearing a mask high up on his face, on high alert for possible paparazzi or fans that could have tailed him. You couldn’t recall the last time you had been on a date with Jungkook and not the idol who shared his name.

Sometimes, when you were especially tired and angry, you wondered why you kept trying.

Why had you? You now asked yourself, reflecting. Jungkook was right. Back then, the entire world had been against the two of you being together. There had been threats and bribes on either end but you had both held on, refusing to let go. But why hadn’t you? Foolishly blinded by love, you had dared to go against your company, sneaking off to see him, lying straight through your teeth in a desperate attempt to hold onto the one relationship you treasured dearly. 

As your mind oscillated between the past and the present, you struggled to keep your expression agreeable. 

Did Jungkook really believe that you wanted this to happen? If you had had a say in this, you would have chosen never to cross paths again. Some things were better left as water under the bridge. 

Tremendous relief washed over you as soon as you spotted your manager’s van pull up. Never before had you been so thankful to see the familiar license plate number nearing the curb. You adjusted the strap of your purse, your feet already headed towards the exit before you could think twice about it. Your focus was on establishing a safe distance between you and the one person you never wanted to see again. 

Quickening your gait, you fixed your gaze on the car ahead. The cordial nod given to the pair on your way out was half-assed at best. There was no use for pleasantries, not when the other party involved wanted nothing to do with you. If your managers had been around, they would have berated you for your lack of manners. Jihae wasn’t anything less than frustratingly polite. You on the other hand were just thankful that there were no cameras around to record your slip up. 

Eager to get away, you clambered into the passenger seat without sparing Jungkook a second glance. The car door slammed shut behind you with a satisfying thud. Eager to forget about the catastrophe that was bound to eventually happen, you let your eyes fall shut and sunk back into the car seat, trying your best to erase the past two days from hell from your mind. 

"Was that...?" Your manager's voice trailed off, her sentence left unfinished. Surprisingly, she seemed to sense your unwillingness to talk and held herself back from probing further.

Perhaps she felt pity. You were certain you looked the worse for wear with eyebags the size of a small fist and dark shadows that made you look ten years older.

In an attempt to give you space, she reached over to turn on the radio. Soft guitar riffs filled up the silence with a familiar tune you that were sure you'd heard walking down the streets of Hongdae before. As you tried to place the melody, you felt yourself slowly unwind, the stiff muscles in your neck loosening up.

All you needed to do was concentrate on composing a song. The rest... You'd figure it out later. It was easier to handle the burden that had been entrusted to you if you divided your tasks and focused on one at a time.

You'd get through this. You always had. However, some things were easier said than done. You’d soon learn that the hard way.

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"I won't beat around the bush. Frankly, what you have isn’t up to par.”

Even though you had readied yourself for the worst, it was hard to ignore the sharp sting of failure. 

Maybe because every time you picked up your pen or guitar, you poured a bit of your soul into the lyrics, into the melody. Writing always came from a personal place and this time hadn’t been any different. It didn't matter if the song in question hadn't taken months to write and perfect, you had still spent time and effort to create something that stemmed from honesty. 

"Winter has seeped into spring. Our season has turned cold. My heart is heavy from words left unsaid. Time has only left us bitter and angry. If you knew then, would we be different now?" Mr Kim discarded the lyric sheet, not bothering to repress his sigh of discontentment. Usually you never had to interact with him directly, but the race against time had erased all intermediate steps from the production process. "I don't think you've understood the concept we’re aiming for."

You kept your gaze trained on the floor, curled fists hidden in the pleats of your skirt as you awaited the rest of your scolding you were sure was coming. Feedback was necessary for growth but you hated this feeling of not being good enough.  

"It's spring. The public is tired of hearing dreary ballads; they want to hear a sweet heart-fluttering tune instead. There’s a reason Cherry Blossom Ending is a national hit... Your song needs to fit the mood of the season. What you’ve written is too depressing. Save this kind of material for next autumn, alright? We need a good duet by the end of the week so please pull yourself together before then."

"Yes, I’m trying—” you meant to argue but he cut in before you could finish talking.

"But it's not enough, is it?” His face softened when you wilted in your seat, visibly discouraged. He patted your shoulder in silent encouragement, movements stiff and awkward. “Look, I know we're working with impossible time constraints, but we need this done as quickly as possible in order to record and move straight into post-production. I know that you’re capable of writing the song we’re all waiting for, you’ve done it before.”

He closed his laptop and gathered his belongings into his leather bag. After gathering to his feet, he brushed off the creases marring his navy suit until satisfied with his appearance. “I’ll come check up on your progress soon, okay? Don’t give up. Everyone’s counting on you. Send me the demo file once as soon as you’ve finished recording.”

You stood up to bow properly, your facial expression a blank mask that hid the anxiety his words provoked.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, you let your expression crumble.

One thing was certain; you had underestimated his ability to get under your skin. Your earlier resolve to remain professional collapsed despite your best efforts. Your managers hadn’t joked around when they warned you that he was notorious for not mincing his words. 

But you had no other choice but to suck it up. The pressing deadline loomed over your head like a dark cloud, reminding you of the monumental task your company expected you to accomplish in so little time. 

You stared at the sheet music, reluctant to trash the song you had lost sleep over. A groan made its way past your lips. 

Starting over from scratch? Was that even possible? It had taken you so long to come up with the last song that you weren’t sure you could produce something of the same caliber in an even shorter amount of time. You also had to consider all the prior commitments you had to uphold... You had a charity event tomorrow, three university festivals this week, as well as the photoshoot in Nagoya on Thursday... You’d be jet lagged and sleep-deprived, working in less than ideal conditions like on the car or on the plane. Not to mention that the earlier rejection had severely tampered with your confidence. Knowing that you’d have to perform the song with him only made it worse.

You knew that reminiscing and picking at old wounds would only be counter-productive but the song writing process forced you to delve deep and remember the past you had hoped to erase away. Bitterness resurfaced the more your mind reeled through the final stages of your relationship.

Words that usually came so easily were hard to find. You penned a few lines, only to stare back at them in disappointment. Another sheet of music gone to waste.

Heart-fluttering? It was ridiculous that they had demanded a sickly sweet love song from you when your relationship with Jungkook was anything but.

All of your songs were based on your own personal experiences and emotions. To write such a song... You’d have to rewind back to a time when your relationship hadn’t been tainted by the expectations of others; back to a time when Jungkook had just been another trainee with big dreams and no fame to his name. Back to when Jungkook and his time had belonged to you. 

A knock at the door interrupted your train of thoughts. Taeyi unnie poked her head through, holding up a plastic bag in lieu of greeting. “I got us tteokbokki. You haven’t eating yet, have you?”

Shaking your head, you made space for her at the table by shuffling some papers into a corner. “It smells really good,” you said appreciatively, only realizing the extent of your hunger as the enticing smell wafted through the air. 

The sight of food unleashed your voracious appetite. You dug in, eager to finally get your hands on something that wasn’t coffee or nuts. 

She made a noise of assent, breaking apart some disposable chopsticks before handing you a pair. “It’s from the store down the street. It’ll do you some good to eat up... Don’t take offense, but you look like... Well, you don’t look at the best of your condition, is what I mean.”

“You don’t have to be careful around me, unnie. I know I look like I’ve been living in a ditch.” You hadn’t thought twice about your appearance before, but now that she had pointed it out, you suddenly became aware of your flaws. 

“Well... Maybe not to that extent...” Her lips quirked into a small smile. “But I’m glad you feel well enough to joke around. How did the meeting go?”

You chewed your mouthful of food with deliberate slowness as you replayed the events of the past hours. “The head of A&R hated it...” Your groan came out muffled as you struggled to swallow down your food. “It’s hopeless... I’m back to square one... But I’m running out of time and I really— I’m not sure if I can do it, unnie.”

For the first time since meeting her, you didn’t bother hiding your emotions. Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t let yourself be honest for a long time—with her and anyone else. Your only outlet had been through your music. Off stage no one cared. You understood that sentiment to an extent... Why would anyone feel any sympathy for you? As far as they knew, these hurdles came with along with the job description. No job came without their own set of problems.

Taeyi’s features softened. She gave your shoulder an encouraging pat. “I know you can. I’ve seen you create miracles before. Have more confidence. Lots of idols write songs these days... But they have no story to tell.” 

You mulled over her words in silence. Which was...strange, to say the least. Your manager was the type to fill in any gaps with noise. You had gotten so used to her incessant chatting that any pause that lasted longer than a minute put you on edge. 

"You aren't eating?" You covered the bottom half of your face as you spoke, chewing your mouthful of food carefully.

She played with the bracelets on her wrist, the silver bangles knocking into each other as she fidgeted nervously. "I ate earlier... Ah, um... I wanted to talk to you about Jungkook-ssi."

The mere mention of his name made your mouth go dry. You paused mid-bite, keenly aware that your manager was monitoring your reaction. Schooling your expression, you set down your chopsticks and reached for a napkin to dab the corner of your lips off.

"As you've previously been informed, our company have made arrangements with a news outlet. They'll be photographing you two on a date today. All you need to do is show up and play pretend long enough for them to get the shots they need. I know... I know that your relationship with him isn't ideal at the moment, but as long as you remember that this is a professional engagement, then you should be fine, right?"

You gave a silent nod of agreement, not trusting yourself to keep your voice neutral. Taeyi unnie pulled out a nondescript black folder from her bag before handing it over to you.

Tendrils of dread wrapped themselves around your spine as you regarded the folder with disguised apprehension. Repressing the instinctive urge to throw it away, you flipped it open and took out the handout, preferring to get it over with quickly. It was useless to drag this on for longer than necessary. 

“Public Relations compiled a list of possible questions you might be asked. The ones that are highlighted will be asked, so make sure to memorize the answers to those questions first. You'll get a more extensive briefing before we gear up for the song's promo, but this should cover the basics. Jungkook-ssi has also received a similar answer sheet." She gave you a moment for the information to sink in before resuming her spiel. “The questions on the second page will be banned. We’re supposed to step in if things escalate, but you can choose not to answer those. It would be in your best interest to avoid answering any intrusive questions."

You couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this was terribly wrong. 

The door swung open, the sudden noise startling you. Your head manager, Kim Jino, appeared at the doorway, his expression looking less than pleased. 

“Christ. Get some windows open in here, it reeks.” Checking the time on his wrist, he nodded to himself. “Your ‘date’ is in two hours. I’ve been told we’re going for casual—no need to dress up. Should she change?”

Taeyi unnie appraised you. “She can’t go out like this. I’ll get her a new outfit while she cleans up.”

“Okay then. Let’s get ready to leave,” he said, one foot already out the door frame. “We’re on a tight schedule. Oh, and can you get the cleaners in here? It smells like something’s died.”

“Got it.” Taeyi stood up, putting away the barely eaten food into a plastic bag. You helped her clean up by wiping down the table with a spare napkin. “Unnie will go by the store across the street and get you some dry shampoo, alright? We don’t have time to stop at a shop and get your hair and makeup done today so try and tidy up in the bathroom while I get your stuff ready. I’ll call you when I have everything.”

Nodding, you followed her, your belongings tucked into your tote bag. 

It was in times like these you appreciated her the most. Even if it was your manager’s job requirement to take care of you, Taeyi unnie always made sure you never lacked anything. She was...nice, for lack of better terms. Managers came and went, but you had never felt any particular fondness for them before. It was hard to feel any affection for people who only saw you as a cash cow. 

I shouldn’t think of them so negatively, you grimaced. Maybe you were being too harsh. Most of the time they weren’t that bad. They were the ones who allowed you to go out during your free time unaccompanied. Taeyi unnie did, at least. It wasn’t easy to warm up to Jino. He wasn’t…a caring person, so to speak. He got the job done and he wasn’t abusive, like some managers had been in the past, but he only saw you as a product of the company. Your feelings and opinions would never matter because you weren’t the one he answered to.  

You braved a glance at your haggard and unkempt appearance reflected in the bathroom mirror. 

No wonder unnie wanted me to freshen up, you thought with a wince, running your fingers through your tangled hair. It would be embarrassing to be seen in public in this state, especially when pictures of you would soon circulate all over the media for everyone to see and scrutinize. You didn’t doubt they’d use any excuse to tear you down further. 

The reminder of who you would be photographed with made your blood run cold. 

You weren’t one to believe in fate. But maybe immortality had made the higher entities fond of meddling—and you were their newest source of entertainment.

In your weakest moments, you had let yourself dream up various scenarios all involving Jungkook. During the times when sleep hadn’t been able to come to you easily and the loneliness crept in under the cracks of the wall, memories you didn’t usually dare revisit kept you from going numb. Incessant loops of what if’s kept you up all night, your heart yearning to return a time when happiness had still been in reach.

The irony of your current predicament hadn’t escaped you. It felt like fate was mocking you by giving you a twisted, bastardized version of what you had desired. Years ago, everyone had been adamantly against the idea of you two together... And now here you were, forced into a relationship where both parties were unwilling. 

“We know you’re seeing someone.”

It had been late into the fall, then. The trees were barren, gold dusting the streets, and people all around had begun to layer on clothes in a bid to stay warm.

“Well? Speak up, girl. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when his group’s popularity had soared. These days, he hardly had any time to rest, let alone spend with you. You wondered how it felt to be that busy. You envied that about him so much your stomach hurt.

The grey walls of the training room seemed to close in on you, like a bird’s cage slowly squeezing the life out of you. How much longer would you be forced to stare back at them, wondering when your time to leave would come?

“He’s an idol, right? I’ve heard the rumors. And if these rumors made their way back to me then you’re not being as clever or sneaky as you thought.”

You hadn’t seen Jungkook in a while. There were times when he forgot to text you back, his incoming messages few and far between. It hadn’t been bothersome, not at first, but as his lapses occurred more frequently, the harder it became to brush aside.

“If you want to debut, then you have to stop seeing him. I don’t want to see you throw away any chances you have. I’m saying this because I like you, ____. You’ve got the talent. Don’t let some boy get in the way of your dream... Or does your dream not matter as much?”

The question hung in the air but you refused to address it. Why did one have to be more important than the other? Couldn’t you have both?

Come winter, you still ignored your teacher’s advice. If you let go of him, wouldn’t you lose a part of yourself? The thought terrified you.

Holding on felt like the right thing to do back then.

The splash of cold water against your face kept you from dissociating. The last thing you needed or wanted was to take a trip down memory lane. You had done enough of that the last few days. Any more unwanted flashbacks and you’d lose any remaining traces of sanity. 

Yet no matter how hard you tried, it seemed inevitable. The mere prospect of seeing Jungkook again, face to face, had your heart beating erratically. Your body moved in auto-pilot as you got ready.

Taeyi applied makeup onto your face, her brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to make you look presentable. You could see her lips move but you stared ahead blankly, your thoughts already occupied. 

Fake dating... Those words left a sour taste on your tongue. There had been nothing fake or forced about your relationship back then. 

You never had to smooth over your edges when it came to him. Fans all claimed they loved you, but you didn’t delude yourself into thinking that they truly did. They liked the finished product, the polished model, and that person they loved was you, but the best possible version of you, like a photoshopped version that glossed over every imperfection. Jungkook... Jungkook had been the only one acquainted with every facet of your personality, every flaw, every part of you that you were proud and ashamed of. 

Years had gone by... How much truth was there left to that statement? You swallowed, not knowing if you really wanted to find out.

“- are you even listening to me?” interrupted Jino. He rubbed his temples in defeat. “What’s wrong with you lately? Stop spacing out.”

“We should head out now. It’s rush hour so we might get held up in traffic.”

“Right, let’s get this over with.” 

You settled into your seat, taking out your phone. You had barely looked at it since the dating announcement had made its way to the main page of Naver. 

As you scrolled through the comments under your newest instagram post you came to the realization that this scandal would not die down anytime soon, no matter what your agency tried to make you believe.

You had purposefully chosen a picture that wouldn’t be controversial. Pictures of cute kittens weren’t controversial, right? Yet all you spotted in the comment section were people vowing to gut you alive among other threats and insults that weren’t particularly creative.

“This will be beneficial for your career,” you muttered sardonically as you scrolled past another degrading remark. “What a load of shit.”

How boring. Reading the rehashed comments became repetitive, so why were you even reading the comments when you knew what to expect? 

The simple truth was that you weren’t completely indifferent. Of course being the most hated person at the moment bothered you, how could it not? You were human, after all. But it didn’t affect you as much as you had envisioned it would. Some might call it ‘having thick skin’ but the truth was you felt somewhat removed from it all. It felt surreal, like you were living the experience through someone else’s body. For all you knew, the hundreds of faceless people accusing you of the most heinous crimes might as well be the work of one person. 

It was hard to measure the magnitude of the ensuing chaos from behind your screen; to think this many people had turned their backs on you so quickly was hard to wrap your head around. Just a week ago, public sentiment had been on your side, but the tide had changed in the blink of an eye. A fan’s love sure is fickle, you thought with a grimace.

“They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity. That there’s a price to pay for fame.” Jino adjusted the rear-view mirror, shooting you a disapproving look. 

“Are you quoting a movie again? You sound so dramatic,” Taeyi unnie chuckled. “Oppa’s kind of right though. I’m sure they’ll get over it once they get used to the idea. It’s not the end of the world. People always react badly to dating news. Especially idols.”

Then why were you dating in the first place, you wanted to ask. You bit down on your tongue, not wanting to talk back to your managers. As sad as it was to say...they were the only ones on your side right now. 

“That’s easier said than done when more than half of the country hates my guts,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Sadly, you weren’t even exaggerating. Out of the hundreds and hundreds of comments on your social media account, a nice message of encouragement was proving to be a rarity. It was hard to find even a neutral comment amidst the slew of nonsensical criticism and death threats.

A hate that was, in your humble opinion, unwarranted. If the heated responses were anything to go by, dating was now considered one of the worst possible crimes a celebrity could commit. 

What a joke. 

Meanwhile your agency was having a field day. Why would they care if they had thrown you under the bus? They only had one thing on their mind—milking you for all that you were worth before your date of expiration passed. That was all you were to them. A product. An investment. An expendable idol that they could replace at any given time.

“Toughen up some,” Jino advised. “When have you ever cared about those keyboard warriors?”

That’s unfair, you wanted to say. When had you ever been forced to date an idol member? When had you ever been forced to date an ex-boyfriend who hated you? 

“Jungkook-ssi is probably waiting. We’re running a bit behind schedule.”

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he had waited for you, you remembered but refrained from commenting.

The van reached its destination all too soon for your liking. You didn’t notice you were trembling until Taeyi unnie rubbed her hand on your shoulder. 

“It’ll be fine,” reassured Taeyi unnie. She offered a small smile, her words warm. “You don’t even have to stay that long if you really hate it. Just pretend you’re enjoying it long enough until we get an OK.”

You gulped, nodding. 

“You can do it. Twenty minutes tops and then it’ll be over and you can pretend like it never happened.”

You appreciated the encouragement. “Are you going to stay?”

“We’ll be around the surrounding area in case you need me. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing should go wrong. It’s a cafe that opened up recently and only locals come visit.”

“Thank you, unnie.” She squeezed your hand one last time before you got out the vehicle. 

You weren’t sure who had been the one to fix the location of the date, but you could understand why. There were only three students gathered around a pile of books out by the entrance, the rest of the place looked otherwise empty. You remembered your managers’ instructions and headed up to the second floor, eyeing the art pieces hung up on the wall in passing. 

Jungkook was waiting at one of the tables in the very back, near the glass windows. The sun rays hit his face in a flattering angle, highlighting the sharp lines of his face. 

You gulped, silently debating how you should approach him. The last time you met things hadn’t gone down so well. And the time before that... 

A small part of you didn’t want to ignore it even if logic dictated that you should never address it. For sanity’s sake you’d convince yourself it didn’t mean anything—for you and for him.

Jungkook’s round eyes met yours. You averted your gaze before you could see his gaze flicker down your figure. 

“You’re late… I see bad habits are hard to get rid of.” There wasn’t any heat to his words, so you just chose to ignore him, reaching over for the menu. “You could have tried to be on time for our first date.”

“Our first date?” you mused, scanning the menu. The sarcasm was easier to deal with than his anger. Maybe today wouldn’t be hard to get through. For a second you had feared that your meeting would turn into a shouting match. “It’s barely started and already I have a headache.”

The waitress came over once she saw you were ready to order.

“What can I get you?” she asked, finally looking up from her notepad.

Her eyes bulged out once she noticed who her customers were. She tried to be discreet with her gawking but failed spectacularly.

“One americano and a vanilla latte,” said Jungkook, discomfort evident once he realized that she had recognized them. He appeared even more uncomfortable once he realized he had ordered your favorite drink without being prompted.

The girl repeated the words to herself, jotting them down. “Would you like anything to eat with that?”

“No, thank you,” he said politely.

You forced a smile until she left you two alone.

A long and awkward silence filled the space between the two of you. Something was amiss and it was getting harder to ignore. You had known from the start that pretending to be on amicable terms wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but you had hoped that it wouldn’t be this bad. 

“This…isn’t going to work,“ he finally spoke, his voice low enough to not be picked up by anybody else but you. 

“I know acting isn’t your field of expertise, but you just have to sit here and pretend to like me for fifteen minutes,” you said like you weren’t equally uncomfortable. 

He ran the palm of his hands down his thighs, trying to hide his frustration. He stayed quiet, and for once his expression was unreadable to you.

“It’s not easy.”

“Liking me?” The question was laden with unspoken meaning and you felt your heart sway in your chest. 

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t the same café as back then, but you were suddenly hit with a wave of déjà-vu.

“It’s hard, you know,” you said between sips of your drink. It was too sugary; you could taste the sweetness as your ran your tongue across your teeth.

“What is?” he reached over, pushing back a few strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail. You wanted to lean into his touch but he pulled back before you could.

“Dating you. Anybody would think so.” You glanced over at him only to see that he was watching you intently, drinking in every one of your words, not letting any of them go to waste.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like…” you struggled to find the right words, the ones that would encompass the feelings you felt.

Words never felt like enough. Especially not when it came to Jungkook. It was easier to express emotion through music, where every note could convey a sigh, a smile, a pause. An unexpected modulation, the passing of a minor to major chord, the slowing down of a tempo… There was a nuance that couldn’t be achieved with just words. Words were too constricting, but Jungkook always made you want to try. 

“Like a...star. It’s like dating a star,” you explained carefully, as if every word carried weight and meaning. Even back then, you had always looked up to Jungkook. His passion, his drive. He had a purpose in life, a definite goal he strove to reach. In comparison, you felt small and out of place. Anybody would feel inadequate standing next to him. “Not the sun, but… a distant star? One that shines very brightly, but not blindingly.”

“That’s kind of cheesy,” he teased, the corners of his mouth quirking into an endeared smile. 

You pouted. “It’s not poetic? That’s what I was going for.”

“I mean, sure,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling. “Then you be the moon.”

“The moon?” You wondered what he meant. 

“Yeah, and I can be Earth,” he grinned, leaning forward on his elbows, face dangerously close to yours. “And we can revolve around each other.”

“Okay, that works too,” you said, taking another sip of your milkshake to hide your pleased smile.

It hadn’t struck you, then, that the earth didn’t revolve around the moon.

The waitress came back with your orders, breaking you out of whatever trance you were in.

Everything was too much. 

“I need to use the restroom,” you excused yourself, getting up. You felt faint, your head spinning from the constant push and pull. The past and present all melded into a distorted reality you found hard to keep foot in.

“You’re not ditching, are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Why? Do girls usually leave your dates halfway through?” Your nails dug crescents into your palms. “If I’m not back in five minutes you can start wondering.”

Jungkok opened his mouth but then closed it, nodding for you to go. 

It turned out to be harder than expected to find the bathroom. A group of girls seemed to be following you. It was hard not to notice. At first you thought they might be your fans, wanting a picture or an autograph, but then one of the girls looked at you nastily, a scowl marring her features.

“See, I told you! That is ____,” you heard the short girl urgently tell her friend.

“Hey you,” she called out informally. Instinctively you skidded to a halt. 

You turned around, your instinct telling you to flee. You were alone and there were five of them. It didn’t take a genius in math to figure out that you weren’t going to win that battle. 

“I’m talking to you! You think you can ignore us because we aren’t celebrities?” she fumed, quickening her pace in order to catch up to you.

Out of nowhere, one of them lunged. The movement was so sudden, so unexpected, that you couldn’t react in time. 

She grabbed a fistful of your hair near the scalp and pulled. Hard. Your eyes watered in pain and you bit back a shriek. 

“Stay the fuck away from him,” the girl spat, pulling your hair with such force you thought for one second she was going to rip the strands out. “You hear me?”

Another girl held your arms, trying to keep you still.

“Get off!” You huffed, twisting your body managing to break free from the girl’s hold, but your hair was still held in a vice-like grip.

“I said get off!” you let out, not caring anymore about staying polite.

During media training they always warned you about extreme situations all involving stalker fans or antis. You remember being told to stand still and endure whatever was thrown your way and wait for security to step in. Well screw your media training, you seethed, still struggling. There was no fucking way you were going to get a bald spot because of one delusional and entitled fan. The second girl tried to step in again, fingers clawing at your face. You felt her nails scrape against the right side of your face, her manicure digging into the skin with intent.

With an amount of strength you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed her off of you, digging your acrylic nails into her arm, forcing her to let go with a yelp.

Then, not sparing the girls a second glance, you broke into a sprint and ran as if your life depended on it. Your survival instinct kicked in and you panicked, looking for a way out of this mess.

You could hear one of the girls chasing after you. Distantly, you thought how nice a bodyguard would have been. Where was security when you needed them?

Your heartbeat thrummed loudly in your chest. In a last ditch resort, you took refuge in the employee-only bathroom, locking yourself in the stall furthest away from the door. It was kind of pitiful that you were hiding away in a bathroom because some no-name girls unjustly loathed you. 

Honestly, what had your life become... Your scalp stung. The shoes on your feet were a half size too small. You wanted to go home. 

You pulled out your phone and checked to see if it was on silent. You had seen one too many movies where the lead got her location blown because her phone decided to go off. Once that was out of the way, you checked your messages. There were a lot of them but you swiped open the first one which happened to be from Jungkook.

[jungkook] hey where did you go

[jungkook] seriously where r u

Had you been gone that long? You quickly typed back. 

[you] in the staff bathroom!!

The response was almost immediate.

[jungkook] wait there

Was he going to send security to help you escape? It would be embarrassing being escorted out of the bathroom and having people know that you were hiding in a bathroom in the first place. But you could deal with that. Anything was better than going for a round two with vindictive teenage girls. 

The door abruptly swung open, making you jump. You held your breath as your heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You just hoped they weren’t dedicated enough to stick their heads beneath the bathroom stall to check if you were there. You really wouldn’t put it past them to be that thorough. You’d just have to kick them away if it came down to that.

“Oh she’s not here either. Wow, I can’t believe I’m running around chasing her. I’m too old for this.”

“Can we stay here a bit? I can’t face him right now.“

“Fine. I need to fix my makeup anyway. Here, hold my bag for me.”

You could see two people make their way towards the sinks through the crack of the stall door.

“From what you’ve told me, she’s a bitch,” the older woman said, peering into the mirror to fix her eyeliner. “She seems like a sociopath. ”

They weren’t talking about you, right? You were worried your breathing was too loud, that they would turn around and notice your presence.

“Kookie’s really naive,” the woman continued. Your spine straightened at the mention of his name. “Of course, right now, he might want her back. But soon he’ll see that dating that kind of girl gets tiring real quick.”

“I’m not sure what to think anymore,” the other girl said, tugging on the ends of her hair. “He was so nice to me, and, well, he told me about his ex, how she really played him.”

You froze, realizing that these weren’t ordinary fangirls.  You craned your neck, trying to get a good look at the pair, but all you could see were the back of their heads.

“— don’t understand. Why would he date her again? She’s pretty and popular but Jungkook isn’t the type to be superficial. At least, I thought he wasn’t.”

“He isn’t!” her friend quickly interjected. “Everyone thought he was going to d—”

Someone barged in, surprising them mid-conversation.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” The lack of honorifics didn’t escape you.

“Noona? Um… There’s an issue with the fans right now.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“ ____ got attacked by two girls. Apparently there was a fight. The fans are saying that she provoked them and hit them, and that they’re going to press charges.”

“What?!”

“So we’re kind of in an emergency situation. ___ is missing.”

“Oh god… I thought this only happened in makjang dramas… Is ____-ssi okay?” the woman’s voice morphed into one of fake concern. 

“Uh… she’s unreachable right now. So no one knows. Her manager is going crazy.”

“Let’s go back then,” urged one of the two women.

“Can I just have a minute? It’s hell out there. I just— I need a second,” Jungkook pleaded.

“Go ahead. We’ll see each other back at the company, then?”

“Thanks, noona.” 

You waited until they left before unlocking the door.

Jungkook was leaning back, hands on the sink, eyebrows furrowed, and staring at you like you were in big trouble. Unwittingly, your eyes raked his form, lingering on the exposed skin of his arms. His sleeves were rolled up, giving you a perfect view of the prominent veins running down his arm when he flexed. 

He looked...good. Good was an underwhelming word, one you knew didn’t come close to describing him. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to seem affected by the sight. It would be so easy to cross over the distance between you. Four steps forward would be all it would take. 

His eyes roamed your face with a degree of intensity that had you squirming. He always had the ability to make you feel like he saw all of you, but you didn’t like it so much, now. You dropped your gaze, ignoring the temptation. One time could be written off as a mistake. But twice? 

He pushed himself off the sink, approaching you. For a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. You tried not to be disappointed when he didn’t.

“You’re bleeding,” he frowned, his hand reaching up to trail along your cheekbone. The touch was feather-light, almost non existent. If you hadn’t seen his hand move with your own two eyes, you would have written it off as a figment of your imagination. 

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

You paused, eyes settling on the marking on his left wrist. It was a small crescent tattoo, one that was so achingly familiar. You hadn’t noticed it when he had come over to your apartment, hadn’t even thought to look for it.

You wondered if—like the ink—you ran in his veins, burned in his bloodstream. You wondered if he had thought of you every time he noticed the tattoo staring up at him.

“You still have it,” you whispered, attention still focused on it.

He followed your gaze down to his wrist. Self-consciously he pulled down the sleeves of his sweater to cover it up but there was no use hiding it. You both knew it was there. 

He shrugged, trying to seem unbothered.

“You’re not supposed to get them removed,” he tried to explain. “Even if it’s something dumb that you got drunk, no matter how much you regret it, you gotta keep it. So it reminds you not to make the same mistakes again.”

There was a beat of silence as you processed his words.

“You think those people stop getting drunk tattoos?”

“I don’t know—maybe,” he swallowed. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that you saw his gaze flit down to your lips. “Maybe…they forget they aren’t supposed to get them.”

Were you reading too much in what he was saying? You wanted to press the issue but he stepped back before you had the chance, distancing himself from you.

“We have to go back,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Who was she?” you tried to ask offhandedly, recalling the earlier conversation that you had overheard.

He barely registered your words, too busy making sure the hallway was clear of employees and possible raging fangirls.

“What?” He turned to look at you. “C'mon let’s go, there’s no one out.”

He took the lead and you followed, making sure to keep a reasonable distance.

A crowd of people had turned up at the entrance of the shop with their phones ready to document every single second. You looked at the ground, unsure of what to do. Smiling didn’t seem appropriate in this situation. You couldn’t show your displeasure either or else some attitude controversy might end up adding itself to your ever-growing list of scandals under your belt.

Jungkook took your hand in his and you relaxed momentarily. This was familiar. He led you through the throng of spectators towards his manager that you remembered seeing a few days before.

“I pulled up the car,” he told you both, walking briskly towards the black van parked on the side of the road.

You tried ignoring the people calling your name. They were neither paparazzi nor journalists but their questions were no less invasive, their comments no less degrading. You kept your eyes forward and held tight onto Jungkook, knowing that if you looked at them it would only make matters worse. Whenever you spared those people even a second of your time, they became all the more aggressive. 

“Get in!” urged Jungkook’s manager, shoving you forward once you reached the vehicle. 

You hurriedly clambered in the van, followed closely by Jungkook. The slamming door did nothing to block out the mayhem outside. Somewhere along the way, Jungkook’s hand had slipped from yours but you could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours. 

Jungkook waited until the car started moving to speak up.

“So…who exactly thought this would be good idea?” 

You shot him a dirty look, remaining silent. It wasn’t like you had asked for any of this either. 

“This is a fucking nightmare and a half,” he complained, throwing his head back as he closed his eyes.

You glanced over, tracing the slope of his nose and the tiny scars on his face. The scars were the same but the proportions different. He had shed off the baby fat, leaving chiseled features in its place. How can someone so familiar feel so unfamiliar at the same time, you thought fleetingly, before turning your head to look out the window.

“I’ll drop you off at your agency Jihae-ssi. I think it’s the safest solution. Please let your managers know. I wasn’t able to get a hold of them.” Jungkook’s manager grimaced.

Humming noncommittally, you fiddled with your phone before deliberately shutting it off. Some things could wait. What you really needed was a nap. Maybe when you woke up you’d realize this had never happened. 

Trying to diffuse the awkward tension, the driver turned on the radio.

I’m a paper doll stuck in a game for two

I love you, I love you

This paper heart you’ve ripped —

The manager quickly fumbled with the buttons, accidentally turning the volume up, before finally managing to switch stations. 

Paper Doll had always been the song you disliked the most out of your repertoire. 

Now you truly hated it. But similarly to Jungkook and the inked images adorning his skin, it was too late to take it back — the damage irreversible. 

.

.

a/n; ty for waiting patiently for this as i got my shit together;; i reworked the original 4.8k and adjusted the content to fit the new direction i’m taking this fic :) i really want to thank everyone who sent me feedback and support on the first parts... they really kept me from abandoning this fic ! as this is my only real Plot Driven fic i hope that it doesn’t suck too bad. ty for reading !

[rosykims]

5 + 10 for emeraude, 14 + 18 for effie, 19 + 24 for arylene and 30 through 45 for imogen bc i love her so much ? 😏😏😏

fdjkfjkfdk thank u SO much maia i absolutely Treasure You !

EMERAUDE HAWKE - DA2

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

emeraudes fashion sense is probably my favourite out of all my ocs, so uh if u havent looked at her pinterest board yet u should do that bc its Very cute hehehe

anyway for the most part she sticks to dark, practical clothing whenever she's out and about in kirkwall or doing merc work, etc. she picks clothes that convey strength and power, but she likes having a little bit of colour somewhere on the piece, just to keep things interesting. she's not much of an embroider, but was a good way to keep herself distracted during hard times, so she tends to add little patterns here and there whenever she gets the chance!

as for special occasions, for her this would actually just be. a quiet night at home or a relaxed gathering with her friends. bc its so rare for her to have that lmao. anyway for events like that she usually wears light colours and soft fabrics, simple but always decorated with flowers or colourful patterns.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

she has a collection of gifts ! that kids from lowtown would give her over the years she spent in kirkwall. she's a very community based person and wants to do right for her city, and shes very nurturing (in an ironical, Cool Big Sister way) so she likes making sure all the kids are safe and being looked after. she gets a lot of trinkets and strange gifts from some of the kids as a result, but she does treasure them (even if she laughs about it with her friends) and keeps them all !

EFFIE RYDER - MEA

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life?

effie's maternal rolemodel has always been her late mother, ellen. nobody could really fill that role in her eyes, since they had such a close, positive relationship before she passed. her relationship with her dad was a lot more strained and it really impacted a lot of her relationships later on in life too ! she tends to.... see an older man who is Vaguely Nice to her, and then think “ oh, youre my dad now?” which isnt fair to anybody obviously but yeah she,,,, has a lot of unresolved issues regarding alec and tends to unintentionally project so. We stan !

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite?

oh constantly lol. With her dad being an n7 and her mother working so hard on her research, they tended to move around wherever her parents work required. she actually enjoyed it this way. she was never good at making long term friends, but she lived meeting new people, and obviously with the move she got to experience a lot of different cultures which really put the idea of adventuring and travelling in her head at a young age.

ARYLENE TORR - TES IV

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

she likes them ! she tends to keep her distance with most communities and groups of people in particular, but she does like enjoys having the odd conversation with the odd street urchin here and there, either sharing with them some strange, ridiculous life advice or – if shes feeling particularly chaotic – telling them the scariest stories she can think of. as for having them, arylene isnt AGAINST the idea, but she has far too much for the foreseeable future for that to ever be a good idea

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

outwardly, arylene is an almost unbearably easy going person, so you would assume she doesnt hate anyone lol. but she does DEEEPLY dislike cults and groups of ignorant people who are arrogant enough to start messing with the balance of life, or making deals with gods, etc. she believes that people like that can do an unbelievable amount of damage, so she invests a lot of time and effort it sabotaging any group or plot she happens to find !

 IMOGEN FOSTER - RDR2

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they?

hmm idk if this even EXISTED in 19th century london lol, but she would have done some very tame version of girl scouts as a child! She barely remembers any of it, but she liked the classes on what plants did what, which were safe to eat, and the likes. its something that helps her a lot when on the run with the gang, and something shes always had a personal interest in, as a nurse !

other than that, she’s done a lot of independent study on history, classical literature, and she speaks fluent italian we stan !

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he?

imogen comes from a very wealthy aristocratic family, so she was very fortunate that her privilege afforded her the education she got at the time. she is VERY grateful to have attended the schools she did, and she made sure to make the most of it, paying attention in class and studying harder than most of her classmates. she's a smart girl with a very active mind, so knowledge is something she can't get enough of. she was actually petitioning the board of education to allow her to attend university before she left for america – already their had been women accepted into universities at that time, but obviously it was still a very scandalous thing lol, especially since imogen wanted to study medicine.

What subjects did your OC excel at?

imogen is a HUGE overachiever and did pretty well at basically everything from science, mathematics, language studies and later on, in her studies as a nurse. i can tell you what shes bad at though lmao

anything physical really dkdkdks she is TERRIBLE at horse-riding since she usually just went by carriage everywhere in the city. art and poetry and writing in general she was never great at, because she's a pretty logical person and was told she never put enough emotion in her work lol !!! sports...obviously was very limited anyway as growing up in like? the early 1870s lol. and as for the traditionally feminine lessons in like ?? sewing and cooking and stuff well ! she was very average at them which made her  feel worse than if she was actually bad bc she's so used to excelling and making a name for herself oof

What subjects interested your OC?

Imogen loves greek literature and mythology !! the iliad is her favourite book and she keeps her heavily annotated, dog eared copy – a gift from her late father – on her person almost constantly. needless to say its why dutch admires her as much as he does lol.

obviously, as a nurse-trying-to-be-a-doctor, she has a great love for medicine in all its forms. she's always been fascinated in natural remedies, and even moreso when she's running with the van der linde gang and is really relying on the land to survive.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession?

hmm okay so. Technically she's a nurse – she worked in her father's hospital for almost 10 years prior to his death, and she was sort of his unofficial understudy, as in she knows a LOT more than her job description requires lol. but after her father past away, another, less progressive man took his place as chief of surgery and made a lot of changes to the way the hospital operated, and imogen was let go. she and her mother were fighting against it, however, under the ground of unfair dismissal, but obviously given the time period it didnt get them very far. so ! i mean technically she's unemployed rn. but she still has dreams of being a doctor, or at least continuing her career in medicine.

How is your OC working towards their dream job and/or achieved their current profession?

Oh VERY direct action up until she got disheartened and chose to take her sabbatical. she had been working in her role for nearly a decade, and was very obviously one of the most experienced nurses there. even younger doctors would sometimes ask her for her medical opinion dksksks anyway what i am saying is Brain Very Good. she had been fighting to gain admission into a university – any, she wasnt picky – to study medicine officially, but it didnt get very far and she put it on hold after her father got sick. after he died and she was laid off, she fought even harder against the city to reinstate her title, and continues to fight after she returns from america a year or so later.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession?

helping people is her entire life, and she wouldn't know what to do without it. she loves being a nurse enough to fight to be a doctor, but also in BEING a nurse, she is hyperaware of all the things current medical standards seem to get wrong, and she has a lot of ideas about how else to go about things. her father, a shockingly progressive and worldly man for the time period, shared her sentiment, but he wasn't able to make the changes he wanted to before he passed, so imogen hopes she can be the change herself, and make her father proud

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

being a licenced doctor, babey ! preferably at her father's hospital, but at the point she will take what she can get.

How does your OC react to and handle stress?

imogen  handles stress very well , which is partially why she makes such a good medic, and also how she managed to survive the first week of being with the van der linde gang lmao. she is very good at shutting out EVERY distraction when things get dicey, and her brain tends to move at a million miles an hour. all traces of english etiquette and politeness go out the window, though, so you'll usually catch her barking orders at people, and yelling at anyone who prevents her from doing the work she needs to do. it.....is a big wake up call for people like dutch and micah, and gets her into a LOT of trouble on multiple occasions.

How does your OC handle anger?

ooo......not great. she’s grown up with parents who maybe encouraged her to speak her mind a bit....TOO much given the historical circumstances lol. she really doesn’t stand for ignorance or prejudices in any capacity, and if she has a problem with someone and it gets in the way of her trying to do her work or help others - she will ABSOLUTELY be having words. she also overestimates her own strength quite a lot. she’s tried to throw hands with micah MANY times, often forgetting she’s this tiny 70kg englishwoman and he’s .... Him sdjkdcjkf. she has a big mouth too so she often says snide remarks without even meaning too, which tends to get her in trouble as well. on the bright side, it also helps her fit in with the gang quite well, because for the most part they all appreciate how wild she is lmao

How does your OC handle grief?

hmm i guess it depends on what you would class as “well”? she doesnt cry very often - being stoic and handling your emotions is important when your a nurse - but she does tend to shove her feelings down far longer than she should, and tries to pretend they don’t exist by simply focusing on other things. she also blames herself when a lot of things go wrong, because she’s a perfectionist and wants to FIX everything, so when she finds something - or someone - she can’t save, it feels like a personal failure. like she let them down :(

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

probably being trapped in an unhappy, unfulfilling marriage with someone who undervalues her. she’s not much of a homebody and doesn’t have too much of an interest in being married, but the idea of feeling FORCED to marry someone in order to have a decent quality of life makes her blood run cold oof

What makes your OC happy?

helping people ! meeting new folks ! learning about other cultures and ways of life! learning about NEW THINGS in general ! proving people wrong ! insulting micah !

as tough and high-and-mighty as she sometimes seems, she’s a pretty easy person to please, honestly. treat her with respect, give her space to do the things she wants to do, and don’t get in the way of her opportunities to learn new things, and she’s mostly very happy !

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

she has a fairly macabre and sardonic sense of humour, something she picked up from her mother. she says a lot of Shocking things for the time period, and she’s not shy of dirty jokes either. the first time sean heard her, a soft, well spoken english Lady, make some filthy, crude joke, he nearly had a stroke right there on the spot kjkjkfdjkf

What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

senseless violence, suffering or cruelty. she really hated the gang at first and hoped to escape the first chance she got, because all she could see was the crime and disregard for human life she assumed they all held. fortunately, as she got to know them, she realized this wasn’t exactly the case, but she still has a lot of anger in her heart for a few key members of the gang who seem to enjoy bloodshed more than anything. she also hates any form of social prejudice, and people who gatekeep knowledge and opportunities from others.

What are some things that annoy your OC?

i guess all of the above, but she also dislikes misplaced arrogance, and people who talk down to others. she tolerates dutch, but often gets frustrated with the way he speaks, using as many big words as he can to manipulate and confuse others. she believes that really intelligence doesn’t require obscure jargon and big, fancy words - she likes keeping things simple, so everybody can follow along.

[belgrade25]

The Swamp Map Ch.2

Chapter 1

To their delight, the edge of the swamp came into view in less than an hour of their turtle walking.

The signal bars on Cordelia’s smartphone also came back. As expected, she had several missed calls and messages from both the Mayor's office and Zoe. But kicking them off the priority pyramid, she called a cab in order to find their car.

When they returned to the comfort of their car at last, it was beginning to drizzle.

Folding the rear seats flat, they both lay among shopping bags. Misty salvaged her blueberry bagels and finished one within half a minute.

Cordelia kicked her swamp shoes off. The sound of the rain against the car roof was too hypnotizing. “Maybe we should camp out here. I can’t drive home.”

Misty said something unintelligible with another bagel in her mouth. But Cordedelia got the general message as Misty pushed one of her bagels into her hand. She watched Misty gulp orange juice out of its container.

“Satisfied?” Cordelia said with a grin.

Misty took a deep breath and lay her head near Cordelia’s knees. “I'm too full. I think I'm gonna be sick.”

“You might as well have swallowed three bagels in one go. Perhaps a little exercise would do you good. How about a casual walk to the shack?” Cordelia only meant it as a joke.

But Misty looked up with expectant gleam in her eyes. “Can we, please? I was half about to give up, but if you are in--”

“Hold on. Really? It's raining outside.”

“That’s what umbrellas are for.” Misty folded the seats up to grab two huge umbrellas from the underseat compartment.

Cordelia threw an uneasy look at the discarded mud-caked shoes. “How about we come back tomorrow, when it’s sunny? What's so urgent about it anyways, right?”

Misty's fingers fiddled with the hem of one of the umbrellas, however. “Welp, I have some stuff that I want to get.” She looked at Cordelia. “I'll go by myself. You rest in the car, I'll go and come back in a flash. So . . . can you just drive to our usual entrance?”

And there went that signature pleading look that she knew Cordelia couldn't say no to. She had no choice but to relent. They drove to the familiar part of the swamp, driving as deep in as the muddy ground allowed the tires to.

Misty grabbed a whole bag of her sesame bagels.

“I thought you were full,” Cordelia said.

“I am now. But I’m not going without food. Who knows I might actually walk through a portal this time?”

As Misty got out of the car, Cordelia followed with her soiled swamp shoes back on.

“You can stay,” Misty said. “It won't take long. I promise.”

“Well, it's the job of the Supreme to make sure you won’t accidentally disappear into another dimension.”

In truth, she would choose to strain her body if it meant she could spend another second with Misty. Even in the rain. It wasn’t a secret. And Misty’s gratified smile told that she wasn’t oblivious to it, either.

--

The rain got harsher when they were halfway to the shack. Misty sang any Fleetwood Mac songs that had the slightest association with rain and storms. The umbrellas almost served no function. By the time they arrived, the only dry parts of their bodies were the top of their heads.

Cordelia made a beeline for the bathroom and turned on the faucet to make a bath. The hot water seeped through her to the bone. She resisted the temptation to take off her drenched clothes and step into the tub. With a bath towel on her shoulders and another in her hand, she returned to the main room.

Misty was rummaging through her chest, still in her wet dress. The clothes clung to her skin, presenting the accentuated curves to Cordelia.

Averting her eyes, Cordelia started a fire in the fireplace with a flick of her hand. “Misty, come get changed. You’ll catch a cold.” She walked to the dresser and grabbed new clothes for both of them. “Misty, please.”

“Coming.” Misty scurried to the bed, where Cordelia had put her change of clothes.

“What were you doing?”

Misty patted her hair dry with the towel. “A thing.”

Cordelia raised her brow but said nothing. Instead, she turned her back on Misty in order to take her clothes off. “The bath will be ready soon,” she said so she had a different thing to focus on. “The nice, warm bath of your dreams.”

The only response Misty gave was an absent-minded hum.

Though it baffled Cordelia, she refused to turn around. She instead returned to the bathroom to turn the water off.

“Misty, the bath,” she said, walking back into the main room. But her expression grew perplexed as she saw Misty, still drenched, back at the chest again, pulling miscellaneous things out and spreading them across the mattress. “What are all these?”

Misty looked up. “Ummm, things?”

“Yeah, I didn't think they were animals.” She tried to sound sarcastic, if not stern, but her lips curled into a smile.

Misty wore a similar smile. “Depends on the definition of what an animal is.”

“Misty, please take a bath.”

���In a sec. I just need to . . .” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence for Cordelia.

That switched the Mother Mode on in Cordelia, which was usually reserved for the small girls at the academy.

“Those things won't disappear on their own, Misty. Or are they somehow more important than your own health?”

Her eyes scanned the objects. “They are, actually.”

“Oh--” Cordelia frowned. “What, are they gifts from Stevie or something?” Sitting down on the mattress, she played with some rings and necklaces that lay there.

“No. I collected them myself.” As she spoke, water dripped from the tip of her curls and trailed down her arm.

Cordelia couldn’t hide her unimpressed grimace. “Misty, I’m sure you cherish them, but objects should never be prioritized over your health. The bath. Go.”

“You go first.” Misty returned to digging through her chest. “I need to”--Her body shivered--”put them in a bag to take home. But, a bag . . . I don’t know if I have one.”

It was hardly the first time Misty let her passion consume her and render her blind to her surroundings. In usual cases, such an innocent relationship with curiosity pulled at the heartstrings of Cordelia. She would do anything to preserve it, keeping it as pure as her soul. But Misty’s teeth clattered as she walked around the room, and that was the last string for Cordelia.

“I’m the goddamn Supreme. My immune system is much stronger than yours, Misty Day.”

Misty span around with alarm clear in her eyes.

“I may have concoctions for a cold, but they are not to be wasted for something so preventable. I’ll say this one last time. Go take a bath. Now, or I will take your clothes off myself--” As the last sentence left her mouth, she heard how it sounded and tightened her lips.

Inside her appeared a vortex of awkwardness and guilt for using her Supreme voice to Misty. She found it unbearable to look Misty in the eye. How would she react? With fear for the Supreme or with a teasing laugh? Cordelia didn’t know which outcome would ease this wild vortex.

The following silence told her that Misty  equally didn't have a clue. For some moments, she stayed motionless before going to the bathroom at last.

Cordelia dried their clothes in front of the fire while she waited. Her face grew painfully hot. It had nothing to do with what had slipped out of her mouth earlier, she told herself.

Afterwards, she found plastic bags in the cupboard. The collection of Misty’s things on the bed looked nothing strange at first glance. Accessories, a book of short stories, socks, scarves-- Cordelia raised her brow. Misty never liked the claustrophobic feeling of socks and scarves and strictly maintained her stance despite Cordelia’s countless persuasion. On closer look, the accessories also seemed slightly different from her usual style. And when her eyes caught a brand-new mortar and pestle, a new question arose.

It was when Misty came back. She looked warm, sheepish, and uncertain.

Cordelia offered a smile to ease the tense air, holding out the plastic bags. “Are these bags okay for your stuff?”

Nodding, Misty sat down on the mattress. “I’m very sorry for being childish earlier, Miss Cordelia.”

Childish wasn’t the exact word she herself would use, but Cordelia nodded nonetheless. “Me, too. I didn’t mean any of what I said. Of course, I’ll take care of you if you get sick.”

“I know.” Misty met her eyes and smiled. “But, Miss Cordelia, I don’t want you to think I’d so easily put myself at risk for any ordinary materialistic things. I’m not educated, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never think you stupid.”

Misty dropped her gaze. “They are important.”

“I know.”

“They are for you. For your birthday.”

“Oh--” Cordelia’s mind went blank. “My birthday is in february.” She wished she could have a better response than that. Her stupid mind had no business making her sound so callous.

“Not for that one,” Misty said. “I haven’t thought what I’m going to get for your next birthday. But these ones”--She grabbed the mortar and pestle--“are for the birthday I missed last year. You said your pestle was getting old.” Her hands reached for the other things, pulling them closer. “And them. Well, you know how indecisive I could be. I couldn’t possibly pick just one. Then, I realized last year isn’t technically the only birthday of yours that I missed. There are the ones you had before I met you, right?”

In complete awe, Cordelia started down at the ocean of gifts.

“It's quite a loophole if I may say so myself.” Misty wore a proud smile. “I was going to give them to you at home. I’m still short, though. Kinda running out of ideas.” Her inquisitive eyes looked into Cordelia's. “I hate to do this, but any suggestions?”

But Cordelia still failed to find her voice.

“Anything you want? I can't buy you a diamond or anything costly, but maybe a dress--”

She couldn't contain her emotion any longer. She wrapped her arms around Misty's neck. As tears spilled out of her eyes, all the memories of her past birthdays came back flooding her. Ever since her childhood, birthday was never a celebratory occasion. If anything, it reminded her how lonely she was in the world, how unlovable and unneeded.

“You're enough,” she said in Misty's curls. “You're everything I need and want.”

“You have me every day of the year, silly. It’s nothing special.”

Cordelia shook her head, nuzzling deeper into her neck. “But I didn’t for a long time. Sometimes, I get scared because you could be snatched out of my life anytime, and I’d be alone again like I have always been.”

“Hey, hey--” Misty made their bodies separate, cupping her wet cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? As long as you need me-- Hell, even if there comes a time when you don’t need me anymore--”

“That’s implausible.”

Misty smiled. “Then, we got nothing to worry about, yeah?”

Wiping her tears away, Cordelia returned the smile as best as she could. “I’m sorry. What I wanted to say was that you’ve taught me the happiness I’d never known. And if all my shitty life before you was an inevitable prerequisite for this life with you in it, then, I would go through it all over again.”

“No need to,” Misty said. “I would’ve found you either way.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

It was unclear who leaned in first. But Cordelia couldn’t care less when Misty pressed her lips against her own with equal zeal. Her eyes threatened to well up again. She traced Misty’s jawline with her fingers, and it was the most angelic sight in the world.  

Misty’s dreamy eyes stared at her lips. “Your lips are cold.”

Before she got to regulate her breathing, Cordelia burst out laughing.

[bluesakurablossom]

Hurt (Leonardo x Reader) Part 2

Wow this got a lot more likes than I thought it would get! But here to tag @loveyourselfcreateyourself @homesweetsewer @btsfanatic00 @fangirl-juchan @plush-tigre5s @pyromantic-technin @lunahatter13

These last few weeks was living hell. You felt so empty inside that every time you would eat or drink something it might just go right through you. You felt like a ghost, no emotion or feeling was passing through you. Barely being able to catch sleep for these last few days made you so weak that people at work were concerned you might pass out at any given second from looking so drowsy and the black rings that were starting to form under your eyes. 

You haven’t visited the lair since that night and it felt like absolute torture. All on your mind was Leonardo and every time your eyes would shut for a second you would see him or when you woke up in the middle of the night you thought you saw his figure, but when the lights turned on he wasn’t there. You had been trying to keep yourself busy and distracted with work and your hobbies but that didn’t help too much and there was only so many excuses that you could come up with in your head whenever the boys had texted you. Either too tired, work was so late and hard, you were sick, or you had to do chores or bills. 

You were currently in bed just looking up at the ceiling after finishing another shift when you heard your phone vibrate beside you. You knew it was one of the guys. When you lifted the phone your heart sunk seeing that it was Leonardo...

“Hey Y/N I haven’t heard from you in awhile I hope all is well”

You sighed softly putting your phone down and only a few seconds later you heard another vibration. After a couple of minutes you were getting more texts but you just didn’t have the energy to answer and you just let the vibrations echo throughout your small bedroom. After about ten minutes the vibrations stopped and you picked up your phone lazily and saw the many text messages from him.

“You really worried me when you last came by and I just wanted to know if something happened”

“You know I am here whenever you need me, remember?”

“Please Y/N you are really starting to scare me, this isn’t like you”

“If I did something wrong, please let me know what I did, I feel like you are mad at me for some reason and I miss having you around, I miss talking to you and doing all the stuff we did together”

“.....Y/N? You know I care about you. I hope that whatever is going on, isn’t going to ruin our friendship....I don’t want to lose that with you.“

Your eyes began to water and you just set your phone down and turned the other way feeling your bones become weak, you heart slowed, and your mind was empty. Still that word friends was echoing through your ears and it was repeating every second and sometimes you wished you would be able to scream your head off just so you can stop hearing his voice. You really thought that time and space away from them would make you feel better but it only made it worse and it was starting to become unbearable. You didn’t want this at all, it was sickening and all you want is to feel his arms around you and hear his soothing voice to comfort and stable your emotions. You missed him, you really did. But with the thought that he didn’t want to possibly move forward more into what you two have created together made it feel strained and lacking. 

Each time you had come to see him it was the happiest moment of your day, his smile was so gentle and so fascinating, it wasn’t like any other you might see. His warm and caring personality was what made him stand out from his brothers and how he always acted like a gentlemen around you regardless if he was just in an argument or finished after long hours in the dojo, soon as you two met face to face, he was still him. 

But what really attracted you to him was his piercing blue eyes. How those eyes were so, its hard to describe but his eyes could tell a story and you could just look into them all day without blinking once just to become lost under his spell. Oh gosh this wasn’t helping you and sat up in bed shaking your head violently before smacking a water glass off the nightstand violently as it hit the wall shattering into little pieces with some of the water spraying in different directions. You let a heavy sigh escape your lips and weren’t even aware of the opening sound of a window and hearing footsteps hit the floor. 

“Y/N?”

You nearly shrieked out loud whipping to your side nearly falling off the edge of your bed before catching yourself, feeling your heart skip a few beats. And your eyes were met with the red masked ninja, slipping his way inside. Man its been so long since you have seen him, he acted like the older brother you never had growing up as a child. You had to admit you were happy to see him but sad to know that it wasn’t Leo. “Jesus Christ Raph you scared the hell out of me!” 

You were starting to catch your breath and you could hear him snicker under his breath. “Sorry wasn't my intention” He turned to shut your window close

“Another thing too, there is this new thing, its called knocking!”, You were a bit annoyed by the suddenness but this is something that you knew would happen eventually.

“We haven’t seen you in awhile, any particular reason why?” He turned stepping towards your bed before sitting on the edge

You sighed heavy and you shook your head. “Just a lot going on that’s all, just work and life and everything” You tried to lie but you knew that he wasn’t buying it and that made your mind rush

“I don’t think that’s just it, you have been acting weird since that night, You got Fearless worrying sick about ya” He shook his head crossing his huge arms across his chest

You looked away facing down, you knew he was looking at you and you couldn’t help but sniffle a little. “What’s going on? Did he do something to you?” You could hear the change of tone of voice going from calm to concern and a bit angry

“He didn’t do anything, okay he kind of did, ugh its so confusing!”, You growled in frustration kicking your bed with your shoe, but he was quick to react and he pulled you by your wrist till you were sitting down beside him with you leaning against the end board of your sled bed.

“Look I know this isn’t probably easy for you to tell, but it hasn’t been a walk in the park for us neither. I mean its like you have become a stranger to us and we never see you around anymore and Fearless hasn’t been holding up any good, I mean he can’t even focus during a match anymore with me for god sakes cause I know he is thinking about you”

“I don’t mean to cause drama nor to have you guys being miserable without me there.....” You pulled your crossed legs closer towards yourself

“Then what’s going on?” He rose his arms a bit before letting them fall back into his lap with a thud

You nibbled your lip as your eyes trailed up towards the red ninja, you knew you couldn’t escape out of this one not without getting the intense stare down he would give his brothers when they wouldn’t tell him something. But with you, it was different he only did cause he was only concerned about you. You both had a brother and sister like relationship and you knew he had cared about you, not like Leo did but he did care greatly about you. Even though you two only talked on occasions and spar a few times, it still had those good moments. You sighed you had to let this out. 

“Its about what happened on the night I came over, I over heard Leo and Donnie talking about him and I and how Donnie thought that Leo and I were mean to be”, You started to let the walls come down and the moat dry up

He chuckled a little. “Its not a complete surprise, to us anyways, you guys are practically like twins”, He teased with a smirk

You smiled a little bit. “But when Donnie tried to convince that he should ask me out, Leo said he only said we were just friends....just friends and that kind of.....hurt me” You slouched against the bed letting your fingers interlace

“What? Is that what this is all about?”, He looked at you surprised hearing something that he wasn’t expecting

“Yeah”, you nodded softly “I know stupid huh?”

“Actually not really” He shrugged “This must be very hard for you”

“You guys knew?”, You were starting to feel embarrassed and feel a heat rush into your cheeks

“It was kind of obvious, I mean the googoo gaga looks you give him when he is not looking or that you two spend almost every second together, I mean only an idiot wouldn’t think you were falling for him”, he smirked as you were now becoming more bashful thinking about all those moments of admiration you had when you would watch him when his shell was turned, or when he practiced his katas with you on the sidelines watching his every move and how his muscles were so well defined and how his precision was right on target.

“Well I think Leo is the one who hasn’t gotten that”, You sighed pushing some of your bangs behind your ear

“Sometimes he can be a bit oblivious about feelings, since he is the oh so mighty leader and has to keep everything aligned and be so focus”, He rolled his amber eyes a bit annoyed imitating his voice

“I will admit though I mean I do see more to him as just a friend, but after hearing what he said, kind of just crushed those dreams”, You shrugged

“Why don’t you just tell him what you are feeling? I mean you could always just tell him that you care about him more than what you got”, He gave you a questioning look of why you haven’t said anything for over the course of the time when all seemed to be perfect

“And have my feelings not being reflected and make our friendship turn into a state of awkwardness I don’t want that for us, I mean I can’t lose that with him Raph, he is my best friend”, You shook your head

“Well you avoiding him ain’t going to solve anything either let alone you both being miserable is making all of us miserable as well, its like were all living in hell”

You rubbed your sored eyes that were aching from the hard crying you have been doing over these last few weeks. “I just don’t know what to do, what am I suppose to tell him of why I have been avoiding him and not even talking with him for weeks knowing that if I tell the truth its just going to lead to a fucking mess”

“You can’t know unless you try, I mean if you don’t spill it now sooner or later he will find out himself and that will be a bigger mess”, He explained

You nodded in understanding. You knew he was right, how could you know unless you were going to give yourself the chance to tell him the feelings that have been flooding inside your heart that has been begging for you to open the gates. You knew that if Leo was your best friend he would be understanding about how you were feeling. He was the most understanding person you had ever met and you could share some of your other deepest feelings and he would always be there to comfort you, never leaving your side till you felt better.

You felt better now even after spilling it out to him and you felt the best you had felt in weeks and it made the knots in your stomach dissolve and your mind began to relax. “You are right, I got to tell him”, You nodded

He smiled softly. “Good for ya, you go after him, I am sure he needs you as much as you need him”

“I will, I will be ready, I will figure it out tomorrow and I will finally let him know..” You smiled feeling confident

You did feel confident in the moment even though some fear lingered inside of you, but you had to put that to the back of your mind. Its what was stopping you from telling him in the first place and you were not going to let it control your emotions, not one more day. 

[jojo-lity]

Heartlight

thank you for commissioning! a reminder that commissions are still open and don’t have to be halloween-themed, but exams are coming up so they may be slower or closed in the near future

pairing: jotaro kujo/oc word count: 2124 rating: sfw

ao3 link

It was midnight in Dio’s mansion. That wasn’t something Shiloh could tell solely from the stars or the exact shade of the sky- she hadn’t seen the sky in days. Her time was kept by a horrifically garish cuckoo clock that had been placed just out of her reach, emerging every half hour to taunt her with its grating shrieks. Not for the first time, she wanted to smash the thing to pieces, but she would take a hundred of them with her if it guaranteed she and Jotaro could get home safely.

Though her situation may have appeared more dire, having been shoved into a cage (why the hell did Dio have something like that?) in a vampire’s basement, she knew she was surprisingly safe. As long as she lived, and remained within Dio’s clutches, he could torture Jotaro with no effort at all. It was such an abhorrent, cruel, devious thing for him to do… she was almost impressed.

It didn’t seem wise to fall asleep, but there was very little in the way of entertainment to be found, besides plotting yet another escape attempt. She had gotten close once, unlocking the cage’s door with nothing but a hairpin, but the moment she had stepped out, she was back inside. Whatever Dio was doing to keep her there, it was too mysterious to find any exploitable weakness. She could only hope Jotaro would have better luck.

Hours passed, and she heard nothing but that infernal clock. Strange, usually one of Dio’s servants would have brought a meal by now. Had the worst happened? If Jotaro was to be defeated, she had expected Dio to finish her off himself, but maybe he really would just leave her to die. Well, that wasn’t happening. No matter how useless it was, she had to assume that escape was still an option.

Dio had taken her makeshift lock-pick, and anything else he could find that might have been used the same way, but he hadn’t checked everywhere. After another careful look around, she slipped off a shoe, delicately sliding out the hairpin hidden inside. She wasn’t worried about using up her last one- after pulling off this trick so many times, it was almost impossible to mess up.

Unlocking the door was easy. Unfortunately, there was little she could do about it creaking as it swung open. By the time she could silence it by grabbing it, there had been plenty of time for anyone nearby to hear it. Her heart raced when she heard footsteps almost instantly afterward, already heavy and only getting louder as they approached. If it wasn’t Dio, maybe she could convince them to help her. Just in case, she messed her hair up a little, putting on her best frightened expression.

As it turned out, there was no need. She instantly recognised the tall, broad-shouldered figure in the doorway, and it was someone who would never hurt her. Before she could run to him, he was already in front of her, staring her down with an intensity she had learned not to fear.

“You’re here.” That was all Jotaro said, and even those few words were strained. It was dark, so it was hard to see for sure, but he was clenching his fists with what looked like incredible force. “This is where he put you.”

“Sure, but I’m fine! See, not a scratch on me!��� A quick scan over her arm revealed a rather long scratch, probably from her first escape attempt. “Except for that one. But that was an accident, let me tell you-“

“We’re leaving.” He turned back to the door, walking out much faster than he had walked in. She couldn’t really blame him, it was one creepy basement. “That bastard Dio won’t be a problem anymore.”

She didn’t hesitate to follow. “So you got rid of him? Because, good. What a jerk.”

“A jerk.” Just barely outside the door, he stopped and turned back around. “Do you not remember what he did to you?”

“What I remember is that I was with you guys, then somehow he got me and stuffed me in here. Oh yeah, and this clock wouldn’t shut the hell up.” With one hand, she pushed it over, smiling at the clattering sound of wooden casing and metal gears.

“…Right.” Maybe there was no point in telling her. Even just knowing she had been under Dio’s spell at all would crush her pride, let alone finding out what she had said and done. He was just grateful he had gotten the flesh bud out just before he disappeared, since Dio apparently hadn’t bothered with a second one. Maybe it only worked once?

“Hey, I’m…” She seemed to want Jotaro to look at her, but as soon as he did, her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry I got my dumb ass caught like that. Must have been a pain for you.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. You’re here now. Come on, the old man’s waiting.” Shiloh let him walk ahead, taking one last look at the room that had been her prison. Her fingers drifted up her face, until they stroked at a tiny, circular scar in the middle of her forehead.

Everything from that time was hazy, not because the memories had faded, but from the comforting, obscuring smog the vampire’s flesh had drowned her mind in. Feeling that way, it had been easy to let her body move in ways that she didn’t have to think about, use words that weren’t quite right for her mouth. One dissonant sensation at a time, like watching a movie frame-by-frame, it came back. She had attacked Jotaro. He hadn’t fought back, only defended himself, until that sharp pain in her head. Then he was gone, and she was hidden away in the basement, a secret until Jotaro had come and found her.

“Are you coming or not?” If the sharpness of his question was dulled by the slightest trembling in his voice, neither of them acknowledged it. They would probably have to go back to that place, to sort Dio’s belongings and try to make some sense of him, but they were happy to leave it behind for the first time.

—

It had been good to meet up with Joseph and Polnareff again, but seeing them alive and safe only seemed to remind her of those who weren’t. They were both so naturally exuberant, and they were trying that much harder to relieve any tension before it could develop. She needed a break from it. “Hey… could Jotaro and I talk privately for a moment?”

They hadn’t told anyone about their relationship, fully aware that it could distract from their mission, but both Joseph’s and Polnareff’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Go ahead, we’ll be right here when you’re done.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Jotaro’s sleeve, she led him just barely out of sight and earshot.

“So.” She clasped her hands together, the gesture slightly nervous. “I’m not very good at this, but… are you okay? Like, for real?”

She watched Jotaro blink, keeping an intense watch on his face as she waited for him to answer. Even after enough time had passed for his lack of response to be noteworthy, he remained silent, the smallest shifts in his body language being the only hints that he felt anything at all.

“Okay… you’re not talking. That’s fine. I guess you don’t have to.” Not far in front of them, a group of people got up and left, leaving their table empty. She wasted no time in making that her new destination, even if the chairs were a little small for Jotaro. “But I really do want to help you, and anything you can tell me would be a great start.”

He still wasn’t saying a word. She held the silence for as long as she could before it became unbearable. “I know… I know it’s hard. To think about it. To think about any of it, really.” She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too carefree or too bitter. She was pretty sure she failed on both counts. “It was all just a screwed-up ride from the start, wasn’t it? And if not for you, then…” What was wrong with her? Her eyes were burning, the tension in her shoulders was forcing its way out in little vibrations, and neither of them stopped when she wanted them to.

She almost jumped out of her skin at the large hand cupping her shoulder. Jotaro’s face never showed much emotion at first glance, but she knew him well enough to recognise sympathy. “No, no, this is all wrong. I was meant to be making you feel better!” She laid her hand on top of his, intending to shove it away. His quiet sigh stopped her.

“Fine. I want them to come back. Is that what you want me to say?” He raised a hand to stop her mid-nod. “No. I keep thinking that they are back. That I’m gonna get home and they’ll just be there, or maybe this is a dream and we’re really still in India or wherever.” He had managed to maintain eye contact up until then, but at that point he looked downwards, using his hat’s shadow to hide his eyes. “It’s not like I knew them that well. But whatever they were doing with their lives, before this, it wasn’t over.” More and more of his huge body slumped over the table, the chain on his coat jingling softly as it was dragged across the marble-patterned surface. “It wasn’t supposed to be over.”

“I know…” There wasn’t much more she could think of to say. The reality of their friends’ deaths hadn’t fully registered for her, and much like Jotaro, it was too easy for her to believe that they were waiting with the rest of the group, just outside of her field of vision. “But we’re still here, aren’t we?”

It sounded weak coming from her mouth, and she wished she could take it back, but it brought Jotaro to lift his head just a little. “Yeah. We are.” He let it fall back to the table, producing a disturbing thud. “I was scared.” The words came out in a rush, slurred at the edges in what seemed like an attempt to make them sound like anything but what they were. “When you… disappeared. It scared me a lot. I thought I was going to have to k… come home without you.”

“Hey, hey, come on.” As soon as his head hit the table, her arms were searching for a viable hugging position, managing to partially lift his torso up and bring it a bit closer. His head came down to rest on her shoulder, a much softer and more welcoming place for it. “Once I was there, that loser couldn’t do anything to me. I mean, you saw me, right? I was already on my way out when you found me.” With some careful manoeuvring, she brought him up to face her directly. “Besides, if he couldn’t beat you, he wouldn’t have stood a chance against me.”

At that, a laugh broke out of his throat, too choked and fragmented to remotely resemble any of the few times he had actually reacted to something funny. But it was a laugh. “Yeah, there you go! Already staying positive, good on you!” She gave him another hug, simply because there was no reason not to.

In a move that was rare for him, but not completely unheard of, he pulled her even closer, until the pressure of their chests squeezed together teetered just on the edge of being painful. “So… now we just go home, I guess. Try to have normal lives.”

“Don’t count on that.” Her eyes sparkled as she tilted her head back, an expression that was instantly recognisable as her scheming look. “I should hope this’ll be way better than normal.” 

Before he could ask what she meant, she threw herself forward across their already-minimal distance, bringing their lips together into a kiss that was gentle despite the enthusiasm behind it. The tingling in her nose told her when she might have held it for long enough, but who needed breathing? The hint of purple she spotted under the table suggested that Jotaro might have been breathing through his Stand, just to keep kissing her for as long as possible, and that only made her want to kiss him even more.

Whether it was the growing need to breathe, or an aching neck from staying in the same position for too long, or just pure circumstance that made them break apart, that didn’t matter to her. It also didn’t seem to affect the slightly starstruck look on Jotaro’s face. “Hey, everything okay there?” Her laugh felt much more natural that time.

“Actually, you were right.” He leaned closer, lips still puckered just a bit. “Much better than okay.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @blizgori!

Merry Christmas, blizgori! Hope you have a very special one!

*****

The smell of pine in the winter time

“It’s too tall!”

“It’s not too tall!”

“It’s gonna hit the ceiling!”

“It’s not gonna hit the ceiling!”

“Did we seriously need to have one this big!”

“Of course, we seriously needed to have one this big!”

“Would you stop arguing with me like that!”

“Stop arguing with you like what!”

Always having to hide his immense satisfaction and borderline glee at having successfully riled Derek up with his antics was nearly an impossible feat for Stiles. Still, he managed for one very selfish and very important reason. Derek Hale was smoking hot when he was mad!

Luckily, now that they were dating, Stiles got to see this angry side of Derek all the time, though he wasn’t quite sure what that said about the longevity of their relationship. To Stiles, Derek was the sexiest person to have ever walked the earth. Hands-down. But Angry Derek….with his scorching hot glare and that delicious vein on the side of his neck that strained as he turned a furious shade of red, his every muscle tense, even the ones in his eyebrows…well, that was all the Christmas gifts Stiles would ever need.

“Please, for the life of me, just stop talking, I beg of you,” Derek pleaded, pressing his palms together in prayer. “I’ll get your tree up somehow. You just sit there, and look pretty, and shut up.”

Stiles’ already wide grin grew wider. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course.” Derek winked then switched his focus back to the tree. “I also think you’re annoying, ridiculous, deranged, obnoxious…”

The list went on and on. Derek was probably dreaming about how good it would feel to put his hands around Stiles’ neck and just wring. Stiles kept bothering him nonetheless, barking out absurd orders as Derek struggled to put up their humongous Christmas tree that Stiles had begged him for. It was their first holiday together as a real couple and Derek had wanted to buy a stupid fake tree, one that would be too small and too easy to set up. Stiles, on the other hand, wanted a real tree, one that was big and fluffy and smelled like fresh pine. And though their relationship was fairly new—they’d only been together for a month—Stiles was discovering that Derek typically let him have his way. Probably knowing that giving into Stiles was well worth the sex in the end.

“Whew,” Stiles puffed and wiped pretend sweat from his forehead as Derek finally got the tree on the stand. “Well, that was a lot of work!”

“You. Did. Nothing.” Derek glared, biting out each word.

Stiles scoffed. “I’m management. That’s like the most important job. Everyone knows the top’s where all the pressure’s at. Supervising is a lot more stressful than manual labor.”

“I’ll show you manual labor,” Derek murmured, a suggestive glint in his eyes as he slid into Stiles’ personal space and pressed their bodies together.

Stiles had all intention of rolling his eyes at Derek’s massive cheesiness but gasped instead when Derek’s hands went under his thighs to hoist him up into the air. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and clung on while Derek walked them towards the couch, nibbling on Stiles’ ear.

“Wait! We need to decorate the tree!” Stiles whined when Derek dropped them down onto the couch.

“We can do it later,” Derek dismissed, running his teeth against Stiles’ jawline.

“No, we can’t do it later! We have to do this now while the Christmas spirit is still alive.”

“The Christmas spirit can wait an hour.” Derek kissed him then and Stiles forgot all about the tree and the arguing and got lost in the warmth and feel of his mouth.

He remembered the disaster that surrounded their first kiss. Derek had a rough encounter with a witch and was cursed by a nasty spell that called for someone to have sex with him or he would die.

Naturally, out of the pack, Stiles was the only suitable option to help Derek with that, and so they went a couple of rounds in bed but didn’t even kiss at all. As you can imagine, it was very awkward later realizing that they’d fucked for hours but hadn’t kissed. Things got even more awkward as they tried to push past it and pretend that the whole situation never happened.

After a few weeks of unbearable awkwardness, they’d finally had enough and made the grownup decision to kiss to get it all over with. However, they hadn’t expected to never want to stop kissing and honestly haven’t ever since.

Stiles whimpered when Derek’s lips pulled away from his then moaned when they continued kissing down his body. He felt a tug as Derek undid his pants and opened his eyes hungrily to watch when he spotted a sorry sight.

He glanced to it and then back at Derek, torn. “Look at it. It looks so sad that it’s still naked.”

“I’m sad that we’re not naked,” Derek griped.

“C’mon.” Stiles pushed Derek off after a long, bruising kiss and stood, buttoning his pants. “I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

“You’re exhausting,” Derek sighed but got up anyway.

With such a big tree, they would need a lot of manpower and a ton of decorations. Stiles had brought a bunch of boxes of extra decorations to the loft from his dad’s house, trying to save money, being a poor college student and all. But he wished that they would have invested in some new Christmas lights at least instead of trying to work with ones that were super old and tangled up.

He’d made a big mistake in delegating the responsibility of untangling the lights to Derek. It was a huge job that required one to be patient, level-headed, gentle, and super careful; qualities that neither of them really possessed. He thought Derek would’ve done better with it though, because Derek was a werewolf. Honestly, he thought Derek was supposed to be good at everything because he was a werewolf.

But when Derek started getting so frustrated that he was growling and popping wolfy claws, Stiles had to step in and take them from him before he ripped through the wiring. He gave Derek another task of going through the boxes and sorting the ornaments while Stiles dealt with the lights. That way everyone would be happy. Basically, what being in a management position was all about and why his job was way more important.

It took about thirty minutes and a lot of cursing, but Stiles was actually able to get all the lights untangled and was working on putting them around the tree when he heard the sound of glass shattering from behind him.

“Dude! What the fuck!” Stiles cried when he looked back and saw one of the glass ornaments in a pile on the ground. “I thought I told you to be careful!”

He was waiting on Derek to say something, to apologize, or explain himself, or be his usual asshole self. But Derek was just standing there, completely silent, and staring at this one spot on the floor.

“Derek?” Stiles was less annoyed now and more concerned as he put down the lights and tried to figure out what was going on.

“S-s-s-pider,” Derek stammered.

“Uh where?” Stiles asked, frowning as he looked around and saw nothing.

“Right there!” Derek pointed to the same spot he’d been staring at, eyes refusing to budge.

Stiles moved a little closer and squinted. “I don’t see it.”

“Are you blind?!” Derek snapped, finally looking up. “It’s right there. It’s huge! You can’t miss it!” He looked back over to the spot and paled. “Oh god… it moved!”

“Where?” Stiles searched the floor again but again found nothing.

“There!” Derek swung around, pointing somewhere else. “Fuck now it’s over there! It’s right fucking there, Stiles!”

“Seriously?” Stiles furrowed his brows. He was honestly scratching his head at this. “This has got to be some sort of act.”

“It’s not,” Derek said gravely. “Fuck, it must have come from the tree.”

Stiles rolled his eyes; he should’ve known where this was going. Of course, Derek just wanted an excuse to villainize the perfection that was his real tree. But that still didn’t explain the sheer terror he was seeing on Derek’s face. Or the high-pitch scream Derek let out when whatever spider he was seeing moved again. Or even his running away and jumping onto the couch for safety.

“Oh, I see it now!” Stiles shouted, catching a glimpse of something brown and furry crawling along the floor.

It was definitely a large spider, for sure. One could probably keep it as a pet. But it didn’t look poisonous or particularly harmful in any way to Stiles, at least. Then again, he was no expert. And while the spider was definitely big, they as humans were a lot bigger. So, Stiles still wasn’t understanding why Derek was so scared.

“Why are you standing on the couch?” Stiles asked, watching Derek balance himself on one of the couch’s arms. “Did you not see the size of that thing!” Derek asked incredulously. “It’s gigantic!”

“Yeah, it is pretty big but you’re a werewolf…” Stiles said slowly in case Derek had forgotten.

“Fuck! It’s on my furniture! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Would you calm down!” Stiles urged, watching as the spider crawled its way onto the TV stand. “It’s not anywhere near you!”

But Derek did not heed any of Stiles’ advice. In fact, Stiles could see that Derek was done hearing seasonable reasoning completely. He just kept shrieking his head off as the spider crawled over his big screen TV then onto the wall where it remained stationary for a couple of minutes.

“I call bullshit,” Stiles announced then turned to Derek skeptically. “How can you be afraid of spiders? You lived in your old burned down home. You had no roof! All kind of bugs must have been crawling on you when you were asleep!”

“I bought expensive repellent to keep them away.”

“But what about when you lived in the underground train car?”

“Again, no spiders!”

“But you’re a werewolf! All you do is run around in the woods! Basically spider territory!”

“Hey, do I question you about your irrational fear of yogurt?”

Stiles’ hand flew to his heart in utter betrayal. He couldn’t believe that Derek had the audacity to throw that in his face. “That is a very real and rational fear! Not only does it taste disgusting, but it’s alive, and I can hear the screams of young innocent bacteria cultures crying out with every spoonful!”

“Stiles…” Derek said, his breathing laboring in a way Stiles was very familiar with, like he was on the verge of a major panic attack. “Stiles, for once, can you just stop talking and get rid of it for me, please. I need you here.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, now that he was grasping the severity of the situation. “Okay, let me just get a—”

He sprinted to the kitchens and rummaged through the cabinets for something to trap the spider in. He was hoping that this itsy bitsy spider would be cooperative and would just get into whatever container Stiles found without his having to chase it. He wasn’t going to be cruel. He just wanted to catch this spider, take it outside, and order it an Uber ride home. But if things didn’t go as planned, he wouldn’t think twice about giving this spider The Stomp. It had scared the living shit out of his wolfy boyfriend. This was personal now.

“AHA!” Stiles exclaimed and held up a plastic lunch container.

“Not my tupperware!” Derek called out.

“Why not?”

“Because that fucking spider doesn’t pay rent and I need them for meal prep!”

“You can just wash it and use it again,” Stiles tried.

“You think I’m gonna eat out of something a fucking spider’s been in? That’s disgusting!” Derek shouted hysterically.

Stiles could’ve said that there was a chance it was recycled plastic from a dump where spiders had already crawled all over it. But he didn’t because he’d already acted like such a shit boyfriend tonight by not responding to Derek in crisis fast enough. But he kept his mouth shut and put the tupperware back, finding a plastic butter container that nobody would miss.

“Okay,” he said, walking over to Derek, “I’m gonna lure the spider onto the floor. Don’t faint and don’t freak out.”

Fear never made anyone a good listener. Stiles knew he was asking too much in telling Derek not to freak out, but he was hoping Derek could attempt to keep it to a minor one. He worked as fast as he could to get the spider in the container. Derek was counting on him and Stiles couldn’t let him down. He missed catching the spider once, twice, but on the third try, he was victorious. He got the spider firmly under the container on the floor, but must not have realized how much energy he’d been exerting because he was panting by the end of it.

“You ever see that video where the guy catches the spider under a container and then it explodes and has like a million babies?” Stiles asked Derek between breaths. “Right, you probably don’t want to hear about that right now.”

Derek got down from standing on the couch and sank into a seat, covering his face with his hands. Stiles desperately wanted to go over there and comfort him but was worried he wouldn’t be welcome. He took the spider downstairs and released it back into the wild, telling the little fucker never to come again. He also told it to tell its friends never to bother his boyfriend either, because Stiles wouldn’t be so nice the next time.

When he got back upstairs, he was fully expecting for Derek to want some space between them. Stiles had acted like a total jerk and Derek had a right to be pissed. Stiles was pissed with himself too. He’d never wanted to fuck up this bad so early in the relationship on something so important. He enjoyed making Derek angry but never like this.

However, he was pleasantly surprised—more like ecstatic, really— when he opened the front door to the loft and saw Derek still sitting on the couch but holding his arms out for Stiles to come sit on his lap.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you were scared,” was the first thing Stiles made sure to say, that and kissing every inch of Derek’s face. “That was a dick move, and I promise you, I won’t leave you hanging like that ever again.”

“It’s fine,” Derek chuckled, blushing a little in embarrassment. “You didn’t know.”

“I should always believe you,” Stiles said then smiled, shaking his head. “But seriously, who would’ve ever thought that your biggest fear would be spiders.”

Derek snorted. “That’s hardly my biggest fear. Not by any means.”

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth that he’d just put his giant foot in. Sometimes he was an idiot and forgot that Derek had a terrible past and made such insensitive comments when he should know better. Of course, spiders weren’t Derek’s biggest fear. The guy had lost his entire family in a fire.

Derek seemed to sense Stiles’ inner turmoil and tried to make him feel like a less horrible person by saying, “You know, my biggest fear now is telling someone I love them and them not saying it back.”

“No way! That’s a big fear for me too!” Stiles shared. “Like how awkward must that be. Pouring your heart out to someone and them just not saying anything back. The only thing you can really do after that is crawl into a hole and live out the rest of your days as a crazed mole-person.”

It was quiet then. Too quiet. And while this holiday season was known for its “silent nights” Stiles sensed something was amiss here.

“Um, Derek… are you trying to… imply… something?”

“I figured now would be a good time as any after you just saved my life.”

Stiles cackled. “That wasn’t saving your life, dude. I’ve actually saved your life. So many times in fact. You’ve literally been bleeding to death in my car. This spider incident does not compare.”

“It was a big deal for me. There’s no one I trust more than you. You know that right Stiles,” Derek told him.

Stiles was so touched he couldn’t speak. Honored even. Stiles knew it was early. Some would say too early. After all, it had only been a month. But, they’d known each other a long time and have been through so much together. And Stiles wanted to say it. He wanted to say it so Derek would know he’d do everything he could not to let any of his fears come true. So, he did.

“I love you too,” Stiles said and kissed him, feeling Derek’s happy smile ghost against his lips.

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” Derek sputtered, wide-eyed.

“You don’t have to. I already know.”

They kissed again, not coming up for air for a while. Stiles was perfectly content with staying there all night, but then Derek messed it up by pulling away.

“Come on, let’s decorate your precious Christmas tree,” he sighed, moving Stiles off of him and kissing his brow.

“No,” Stiles whined, pulling Derek’s mouth back to his. “The Christmas spirit can wait an hour.”

“Next year fake tree and no spiders,” Derek said sternly.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Stiles rolled his eyes.