#like. think for 4 seconds. use your brain. would an evil man cry after realizing he was influenced into doing something bad

[dropthecop]

why did my boromir post get notes i'm scared

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 8

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Damienette arranged marriage: part 8

NEXT

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“Children. Chloe wanted to say something to all of you.” The teacher started.

“Yes. I wanted to apologize for my utterly ridiculous behavior in the past and hope that you will give me chance to earn forgiveness from the better part of you.” Chloe stated nonchalantly.

----------

The class exploded into murmurs. Chloe was standing there. It was probably the first time Marinette saw her actually uncomfortable. The blonde was often irritated, tense or even uneasy, but not in this way. She was looking ashamed, but not with her actions. Both damian and Marinette were quite good at reading people and they could tell that Chloe was sincere in her apology.

Alya finally broke from her murmuring with Lila, stood up and looked at the blonde. “How can we know you actually changed. For all we know this might just be some scheme of yours to get Ladybug to trust you again and give you a Miraculous back!” She accused her.

“Yeah! You were always just mean and self-centered. Why would you want to change now?!” Kim shouted.

“You are just sad that Sabrina finally decided not to stick with you!” Rose also joined this

“I can’t believe I stuck with you for so long!” Sabrina huffed and turned away not to look at Chloe.

The blonde looked distraught at the class. She knew that just by apologizing she would achieve little, but Chloe hoped that at least they would not shun her completely. The last few weeks were hard. Now not even Adrien talked to her anymore. A single tear formed in her eye.

“Don’t try playing on our emotions witch!” Alya shouted with anger. “We are all past your lies and manipulation!”

“I estimate ninety percent chance that this is all a plot.” Max stated calmly. 

Lila didn’t say anything aloud, but she was smiling in a twisted way that could be even called evil. She only watched as Chloe was slowly being torn apart by the class. Soon Hawkmoth would get a very strong Akuma.

“You were never even my friend!” Sabrina shouted.

“We don’t want you here!”

“Go to New York and stop bothering us!”

“You are just sad, pathetic bitch!” Alya fumed with anger. How dare Chloe try to manipulate them into liking her again.

Tears streamed down Chloe’s cheeks. She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed. Marinette decided that this was enough. She jumped from her place and walked in front of the class. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you see you are hurting her!?”

“Shut up bully! You are even worse than her!” Kim didn’t care what the blunette said. 

“Yeah! The two of you are worth one another! Both of you should get lost!” Rose was also not holding back with insults

“No.” Alya said. “Marinette is worse. At least Chloe doesn’t try to sleep with random guy just to get Adrien’s attent…” She didn’t finish when a metal pen suddenly embed itself right in front of her at least an inch deep in the desk.

“That’s enough from you.” Damian growled. He then walked down with hand twitching. Probably the most irritating thing was that the teacher watched this whole scene and didn’t bother to react.

Marinette kneeled next to Chloe. “Don’t worry about them. They are not worth getting akumatized for. Listen to me Chloe. Everything’s all right. I… I forgive you. I saw that this was sincere.” 

The blonde looked up, still having tears in her eyes. “Dupain-Cheng? But… But I was the worst to you...”

“But you try to change. And…” Marinette felt something wet hit the back of her head. She touched it and realized that someone spit at her. 

Damian’s eyes were cold fury. He was so focused on the scene in front of him that he stopped paying attention to the class. He slowly turned to them. A silent anger burned in his eyes. Most people in the class flinched and some tried to sink in their chair. Juleka looked particularly guilty Damian noticed. But Alya and Lila were completely unfazed by him.

“tt. I will say it once, and very slowly so your collective one brain cell understands it. I do not care about any one of you morons. I do not want to make friends with anyone of you because you are not worth it. The only person in this whole class that so far I consider valuable is Marinette, which she proved this very moment. So I will make it crystal clear. Back. Off.” He growled.

“You are protecting two biggest bullis and dare talk to us about worthiness?” Alya refused to shut up, which in other situation would be a risk to her health, but by sheer stroke of luck Damian ignored her and instead turned to Marinette.

The blunette helped Chloe up. “I don’t think she is emotional state to participate in the lesson right now Madame Bustier. Can I walk her out?”

“If you believe that’s best for her.” The teacher stated with a smile. Damian held the urge to growl again. Instead, he just followed Marinette. “And where are you going, young man?”

“I need to make a call to my brother.” Damian stated. Luckily, he was here under fake name so they had no idea who his brother was. Teacher didn’t say anything.

-------

Outside of the class Chloe hugged Marinette tightly, crying yet another river of tears. “Thank you Dupain-Cheng. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“I-it’s okay Chloe. I couldn’t just let them talk to you like that.” 

Damian watched the whole situation with awe. He was focused on planning ways to slaughter the class and make it look like unfortunate accident, but Marinette instead chose to comfort the victim. She did not care about what they said even when they spat on her and insulted her instead. Justice, not Vengeance. Even after five years he had trouble with comprehending this idea. But Marinette lived by it. Right in front of his eyes she comforted someone who bullied her for better part of her life. Damian too knew that this apology was genuine, but he would not be able to forgive so easily. It was almost naive from Marinette to do so.

“I… I don’t think I want to return there. At least not today.” Chloe stated. She slowly calmed down. “They were ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!” Marinette smiled at Chloe’s catchphrase. 

Damian pulled his phone and called someone nicknamed ‘replacement’. After three rings there was an answer.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?” Tim sounded at the other side.

“Call the school and tell them that three students are to be excused for today. We had a situation here. Explain later. Got to go.” Before Drake had a chance to ask for explanation, Damian hanged up and quickly texted him the names.

“Uh… I think that’s not how it works. Besides, I left my things in class…” Marinette stated unsure.

“It will work.” Damian said firmly. “Now let’s go. I will get your things.” He walked inside the class and Marinette heard some shouts from the inside, but Damian walked outside with a grin. 

“You didn’t hurt anyone?” she asked him pretty unsure.

“Believe me I wanted.” He simply stated and handed her the backpack. 

“Who is your friend Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe asked. Marinette smiled with relief. The blonde was already feeling better apparently. 

“This is Damian… Grayson. From yesterday, remember?”

“I wasn’t in class yesterday.” Chloe stated. “I was… never mind.” She stated and started to walk outside. “Uh… Would you like to go with me Dupain-Cheng?”

“Okay. Honestly… I don’t want to go back there either.” The bluenette stated. “And for their own goods it’s best if Damian don’t go in there alone.” She smiled at the boy.

“I swear. I was gone for one day and you got yourself a boyfriend. Only you Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe grabbed Marinette and dragged her with her out of the school. 

“tt.” Damian followed them quickly before he lost them.

-------

They arrived at the Hotel  Le Grand Paris in record time. It wasn’t even noon. 

“Uh… Chloe? Do you have any plan whatsoever?” Marinette finally asked. She stayed silent for the way, instead just switching between sending Damian an apologetic glares and watching Chloe ramble about their class. She knew that the blonde needed to talk all the emotions out. 

“Of course I have a plan. I want to introduce you to my mother properly. Then we can go to my room and I can do something with your clothes… For a fashion designer you dress ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous!” Marinette had to admit she was not really a fashion icon that day. Her outfit was completely mismatched. She just took first things that she managed to grab and put them on in the rush. She took a second look at her clothes and gave her a sheepish smile. 

“I kinda maybe might have slightly almost overslept.”

“Scratch that. We are going to my room first. I think we wear more or less the same size.” Chloe stated and dragged the bluenette to the elevator. Damian for the whole trip just walked behind them and let two girls solve it between themselves. He decided it was best if he just didn’t intervene. It was… interesting thing to watch. Chloe pretty much ‘adopted’ the girl. And Damian knew better than to step into this situation. Call it personal experience. 

They got into her room and Chloe locked the doors.

“Okay. Now you explain to me Dupain-Cheng how did you manage to get a mysterious Damian Wayne, the damned ‘Ice Prince’ of Gotham,  to act like a lost puppy toward you.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle (4/?)

Big thanks to all those reading this!!!! hope you enjoy part four ❤️ 

also warning of talk about Hutt reproduction for comedic purposes (sorry...)

You wake to the sound of a very angry sniper. And even though his default setting is angry, he seems more perturbed than usual. Muffled voices can be heard from outside the small bunk area that you’ve already made your personal space. Wet, destroyed clothes sit on the floor in the corner and you’re wrapped only in Crosshairs blanket, save for your undergarments. You swing your legs over and plant them on the cold metal floor.  As you reach the door, the  voices become clearer.

“Absolutely not.”  - That's Crosshair for sure, only he would be so blunt. 

“I wasn't asking for your permission Crosshair, only your opinion.” The other voice is more of a long sigh at this point. The exhaustion and caring sound to it tells you it’s Hunter. For clones they are all remarkably different, you think to yourself. 

“Yeah and my opinion is ‘no’.” Crosshair snaps. 

“The seppies will come after her whether you like it or not.” He counters. 

“Which is why we can’t take her into bounty hunter territory!” You freeze as you realize they mean you. Panic settles in when you come to terms with the idea of being ditched on some degenerate planet with non resources whatsoever. You retreat back into the bunk, pulling the blanket closer to your frame. 

“Just get her up.” Hunter finishes and you hear him walk back down the halfway of the ship. Crosshair grumbles something about not being in charge of you before the door slides open. He’s shocked to see you sitting up and awake, and his eyes rest on the pile of clothes on the floor before meeting yours. His blanket looks far better on you than it has in all his years of owning it.

“Food’s up.” He says before turning to leave. Less time spent interacting with you the better. Means less time for him to stare at the one exposed shoulder that the blanket has fallen off of and less time to wonder if you’d ever spare someone like him a second glance. 

“Where are you dumping me?” He hears a small voice ask. And all the warmth leaves his body. 

“We aren't…” He starts, not turning around. Because if he doesn’t turn around he can claim ignorance if you're crying or not. 

“I heard you and Hunter and i’m not stupid.” You interrupt him, voice void of any emotion. 

“Then you'd know i'm not going to let him do that.” He snaps, almost angry at you for thinking he’d leave you on your own. 

“I’m deadweight, aren't I?” It's a question you know the answer to but have to ask anyways. You want to scream at the republic, for using your intel and then throwing you away. Taking advantage of your selflessness and empathy, just like they take advantage of  the clones caring and giving nature at every opportunity. 

“You’re not deadweight.” Crosshair states, leaving no room for argument, “You just need to be somewhere off the grid for a while.” He hears you stand, and slowly he turns his head, his blanket bunched awkwardly around your frame. His jaw clenches as his heart pulls at strings he swore weren't there. 

“Crosshair…” You start, but don’t continue, words escape you, the right ones don’t exist in that moment. Or at least you can't bring yourself to use the ones you want to. So instead, you opt to blankly stare at the metal floor. He will leave eventually, turn and head out the door. You’re not his problem, your brain explains this as the floor becomes more and more interesting.  Except he doesn't go. And the very tips of his fingers meet your chin, gently pulling your head to meet his glance.  

God his eyes are stunning, you think, before cursing your brain for being in the totally wrong place at the wrong time. But his eyes might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Light brown with hints of ashy tones. 

“I won't leave you on your own.” He tells you, but what you want to hear is that he will stay with you. You're already inexplicably attached to the sniper, it's unbearable. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him breathless just from being this close to him. 

“Now come on, or Wrecker will have eaten everything before you even get out there.” Crosshair cocks his head towards the door, pulling away from you. 

The members of the hold greet you excitedly, Wrecker seems to have really taken to calling you little bird as well as patting your head affectionately. And you find yourself sat wedge in between him and Tech while they both talk your ear off. Hunter is smiling and eating in contentment of his little family and Crosshair is starring, you fit so nicely in this scene. Wrecker piling more and more food on your plate while you laugh at Techs retelling of one of their ridiculous missions. 

“Tell er’ about Nal Hutta!” Wrecker says with an evil smile.

“Don’t you dare.” Crosshair snaps at his vod, who's already laughing his blacks off. 

“It wasn't that bad Cross.” Hunter admits grabbing some empty dishes and patting his shoulder as he walks by. 

“Yes it was!” Wrecker says between wheezes. And you notice the faint flush in his cheeks. 

“Okay one of you needs to spill the details.” You demand looking from Tech to Wrecker. 

“Well, as you probably know Nal Hutta is run by the infamous Hut cartel…” Tech launches off, waving his hands about as he talks. (you've picked this up as one of his biggest habits.) 

“Tech…” Crosshair groans with his face in one of his hands before giving in and leaning back. Preparing for the worst. 

“I can't tell you all the details, classified and all, but the important part is that Cross was working recon and cover, like usual. So he's up this step mountain that's basically all dirt and sand. Looking for this Hut fellow right, and before we can warn him Wrecker throws this thermal detonator and the whole side of the mountain collapses.” Tech tells you excitedly. And your worried eyes look across the table. Crosshair had moved so he could lean back with his arms behind his head looking just a tad embarrassed. 

“He would've been fine, if he hadn't gone rolling right through the window of the house he was collecting intel on.” Wrecker was killing himself laughing by this point. 

“And then the… the” He tried to get out between gasps of air before waving it off and letting Tech continue. 

“And well, sorry Cross, there's no easy way to say this.” Tech laughed a little himself. “He rolled right in on a Hutt reproducing session.” Your eyes went as wide as they could, and a hand covered your gaping and giggling mouth. 

“Wait, so Crosshair burst in on two Hutts doing it?” You gasped, trying to stifle your growing laughter. 

“Gets worse.” The man in question grit out, looking at the mess of comrades before him. 

“How does that get worse?” You exclaimed, leaning into Wrecker with his contagious laughter. Tech turned to you, smiling wider than ever. 

“Hutts reproduce asexually.” He stated, “scientists don't know too much about it but from the condition we found this one in.” he pointed to a grumpy Crosshair. “It gets real messy.” You closed your mouth into a thin line, blinking as you tried not to laugh. 

“Oh…” Giggle “no, Crosshair…” More giggles. “That must’ve been awful.” You tried to emphasize you really did, but the look on the snipers face had you laughing all over again. 

“He was covered head to toe in green Hutt goo!”  Wrecker boomed. 

“Well it’s nice to know yet another finds my torment hilarious.” Crosshair grumbled as he stood up to escape the laughing hyenas before him. 

“No!” you objected, “I promise I am not finding this the least bit funny.” You told him, trying to keep a straight face. Receiving a sarcastic ‘um hum’ reply. 

“I mean it, you could have been seriously injured.” You countered, thinking you had successfully hidden your smile beneath your hand. 

“I can see you smiling.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You could've drowned in Hutt goo…” You quietly said with another round of giggles. 

“Ahhh yes CT-7733 of Clone Force 99 killed in action on Nal hutta, death caused by drowning in Hutt goo.” Tech snickered from beside you. 

“He will be dearly missed, and as an apology the Hutt has named the child in his honour.”  You added taking note of Crosshairs millionth eye roll of that morning alone. 

“Okay that's enough of that now.” He said. “Wren, you want clothes or are you spending the rest of your life in my blanket?” He teases, watching you blush a tad. 

“I don't take life advice from a man covered in goo.” You shoot back with the biggest smirk on your face. 

“No clothes for you then.” he smiled as your protests began. 

“Okay, okay, calm down, don’t get your goo in a tuffle.” You say maneuvering yourself from with the blanket and over Wrecker who's still chuckling to himself.  

Down back in your makeshift room, Crosshair shows you where the extra clothes are kept, which means you’ll be swimming in extra sets of blacks all meant for clones that are bigger than yourself. But you think your pants may survive given a good enough wash, so for now you roll the waistband and the legs until you look somewhat presentable. Greeting Crosshair on the other side of the door.  

“See,”  He says, “told ya’ it would fit.” Before he turns from you and starts to walk back down the hall. 

“Wait Crosshair!” You call jogging over to him, a look of fau-concentration on your face as you reach up to where his short hair meets his right ear. Carefully running your fingers through it. He knows his heart has either stopped beating or hammering so fast he can’t feel it. 

“There, all good now.” you declare patting his cheek a few times. Hoping he inquires as to why you just had your hand in his hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before deciding on: 

“What was that for?” and if there was an inter-galactic clone flirting competition, Crosshair just lost. You grin up at him, pure evil  in your eyes. 

“Oh no reason,”You say walking past. “Just a little leftover Hutt goo.” 

tags: @mangoberry43 @imalovernotahater @professionaltrashcompactor @vesperstalksclones @haloangel391 

and: Thinking the next chapter might be longer but be out of order in relevance to these chapters... thoughts? questions? comments? etc???

[kyber-kisses]

I, Alone (Part 4)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Want to start from the beginning? Find the Masterlist HERE!

Warnings: angst, ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING

Summary: as Dean tries to figure out what is missing from his life, the reader is still attempting to run from her past.

A/n: I’m so sorry guys, this should have been finished days ago my writers block is hella bad. Anyways I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you thought!

Two years.

Two years of running from the past. Most people would say you could have stopped running months ago, and they were probably right. . . But once you get used to it it can become addicting. Plus it kept you busy, kept your mind off of Sam. . . And Dean. You kept hunting though of course, you couldn’t give that up no matter how hard you tried. No matter where you ended up there would always be a monster that needed slaying.

Two years.

 Two years since you left the bunker and drove east until you couldn’t anymore. You found an airport, bought a ticket and left the back roads of the good old US of A behind before you could stop yourself.

And where did all that running lead you? To this moment now. The suns rays were almost too bright even with your sunglasses on, but your eyes were trained on the quaint street before you, watching as people went about their daily lives. normal lives.The small outdoor cafe you found yourself nestled at was the closest thing to peace you would probably ever find. It was better than some of the other places you had been. The small town was tucked into the lush countryside of France far from anything evil.

To bad you’d have to leave in a day or so.

That was one of your only rules. Never stay too long. If you did that you’d meet people and the last thing you wanted to do was build connections. (And look how well everything turned out the last time you cared about someone.)

It was almost funny how it had all played out. In the beginning you had been terrified of being alone in the world and now you preferred it. You got to finally get an outside look of how you had been living and you realized that if you let people in they were just harder to let go of. It was easier being by yourself. That much you knew.

“Alright, where to next?” You mumbled, unfolding the worn and fading map out in front of you, taking up most of the small sunlit table.

You had started running two years ago, you couldn’t stop now. Eyes on the horizon, no second glances back.

*. *. *. *. *. *. *.

Something was missing.

Dean could feel it in the very marrow of his bones. As days past and turned into weeks the older Winchester was trying desperately to figure out what was wrong. After his first few incidents he began writing them down, from the random bag of candy to the extra cup of coffee he had poured- it all was written down. Some things happening more than once. It’s as if his mind had shifted into some sort of auto pilot. Yet no matter how hard he stared at the list or went over it out loud, his head would not give him the one thing he was desperately digging for.

Answers.

He tried to piece it together like a puzzle, but for the life of him it was like two things weren’t connecting in his brain. . . Either that or there was some sort of dumb wall in his head that he couldn’t knock down or climb over.

But he knew something was there. It was just. . . Hidden.

“Sam, I’m telling you man- something’s not right.” Dean tried once more, following his brothers heels as they stepped up into the library.

“Cas has checked on you several times these past few weeks, don’t you think he would have told you if he felt something off?”

Dean paused mid stride, watching as Sam sunk down into his seat. “You think I’m crazy don’t you?”

“You want me to be honest?” Sam quirked an eyebrow, looking over the edge of his book. “Yes. Just a little bit.”

With an exasperated sigh Dean let his head fall back, the older Winchester rolling his eyes before he moved over to the chair across from Sam. “So you’re telling me you don’t feel anything. . . Off?”

“For the final time, No!”

“Not like something’s missing? Like something’s should be here but isn’t?”

This time it was Sams turn to sigh, slamming his book shut before tossing it onto the table. His brother had been talking about this for weeks. weeks! And it was beginning to drive him up the wall.

“Dean, you lose shit all the time. You’re always misplacing crap. You need to calm down!”

“Calm down?! Sam, I’m losing my fucking mind over here, I can’t calm down!” Slamming his hands down on the polished wood of the table, Dean quickly stood up, his anger beginning to fizz in his veins.

Quickly fed up with his brothers lack of help the hunter pushed away from the table, making his way back down the hallway. But once more his brain went into auto pilot and before he could register it he had passed his own room, instead halting outside the door of a room that as far as he could remember had been vacant and empty ever since they found the bunker.

The brass numbers were tarnished, and the door itself sensibly shut. It was just another one of the spare bedrooms. Nothing special about it. Hesitantly he ran a calloused hand over the numbers, working his mind to try and find the missing piece. It was like he was trying to follow a trail of breadcrumbs but it kept stopping so he had no choice but to stop as well. Where there should have been memories there was only blank space.

“What the hell?” He grumbled, jaw clenching in anger. He was trying so hard to remember. So hard. Yet nothing was showing up. The exhaustion of it all settling over him like a heavy cloud.

And that’s when he felt the tears running down his face. The hunter moving his hand from the brass numbers to wipe at his face in confusion, eyebrows drawing together as he looked down at his wet palm.

He was crying? Why the hell was he crying?

And then suddenly his knees buckled and he was sliding down the opposite wall, head falling into his hands. He was trying with everything he had to remember but his mind wouldn’t let him and he could feel himself falling apart. Sam wouldn’t listen and that didn’t make him feel any better.

“Dean?”

The sudden voice had Deans head popping up, jade eyes fixating on the trench coated angel walking down the hallway towards him, his own eyes filled with concern.

“Cas?”

“What’s wrong?”

The angel knelt down, eyes filling with more worry at the sight of his friend who’s eyes were red and filled with tears. Dean opened his mouth to speak, flinching only when his voice cracked.

“I’ve lost something very important to me and I don’t know what it is.”

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[raven-wraith]

A Completely Subjective (Objective) List of Titles to Examine (Purchase), Play Through (Waste Your Life), and Enjoy (Enjoy) During Quarantine (Part 1)

We know what’s happening. It’s April 1st, but the joke has been going on for far too long. Trapped in our homes with Covid-19 actively shooting people in the streets outside, we have to find a way to pass the time. As an avid gamer and professional uncooked cookie dough eater, I have compiled a list of games, both multiplayer and singleplayer that anyone and everyone should play for an enthralling experience. These games range from the newest releases to golden classics, so be warned if, I don’t know, Halo Reach appears. By the way, Halo Reach is appearing.

Single Player Games:

Darkest Dungeon

As our first game on the list, I can only reserve it for the front so at least all of you that don’t read the whole list know about this game. On the surface, Darkest Dungeon looks to be another turn-based, number-crunching, party-building slaughter fest. That’s because it is. But, at the same time, it is so much more than that. Past the Steam reviews that just say, “This game is hard,” or “This game is dope,” nothing can even explain the absolute depth that Darkest Dungeon has to offer.

Red Hook and Klei Entertainment take a unique approach to party building and world crafting. While usual party crafter games like Final Fantasy drive their quests and dialogue to carry the story, it is far more subtle but interesting in the way it is told through Darkest Dungeon. In fact, it is so subtle, that by the time my girlfriend and I had beaten the game and watched the last few moments of the last cutscenes, I didn’t even realize I was, in fact, making all of those decisions and choices to shape the story as it was told. 

Darkest Dungeon revolves around making smart but very hard choices that cannot be delayed for later. The greatest part is that these choices are not presented to you in the usual press-one-of-two-buttons-for-a-different-ending format that games of choice are so used to giving. Instead, it is on a far more personal level. Choices like thinking of inventory space for gold or supplies, whether or not to starve the party for just one more room to rest at a fire, who will be drinking and who will be gambling to forget about the horrors of the quests they’ve had to endure. 

The greatest part is that the game even embellished the idea of loss after choice, emphasizing to not be torn up over a stressful situation, a difficult obstacle, or even a hero’s death because the game still has so much to go, there is no time to cry like a bitch, There is only time to look forward and time to still cry like a bitch. 

I recommend this title to anyone who enjoys perfect indie games(1), those that really break through the barrier of creativity and deliver a totally unique experience.

DOOM (2016)

Doom. Baby, holy SHIT. I was reading a thread where a user simply put that “Doom is the only game where the boss music is for you.” And never in my life have I agreed so much with one singular sentence. The first entry in the Doom rebooted series is beyond comprehending complex stories and intensive strategy. Instead, it emphasizes brutal encounters and visceral gameplay mechanics.

Id has outdone themselves with this title. While the Wolfenstein games from MachineGames have been refreshing, none of them have even come close to touching the near cathartic execution of this game. Doom is a game that is centered around moving fast and hitting hard. Your character, the Doom Slayer (or Doom Guy), is not hindered by the multitude of weapons they carry. He is also an armored definition of brute force. Not a single word leaves our protagonist's mouth, but his actions speak volumes and his purpose in the game is clear right from the beginning. Rip and tear. In that order.

A first person shooter that doesn’t hold back, I was surprised to see lots of mechanics and gameplay choices from the very first Doom had made a return. Ammo and health pickups, rooms filled to the brim with demons to slaughter, and an unforgettable soundtrack produced by Mick Gordon that even pays homage to the original’s. These are the cornerstones of Doom (2016) and I wholeheartedly recommend this to gamers who don’t even enjoy first person shooters as there comes a point in the chaos where it is almost calming for the player. 

Infamous Second Son

From the very first time I could even have a conscious thought, I wanted a game where I could not only be a superhero, but I could be a superhero voiced by Troy Baker. When I saw that we were in no shortage of games like that(2), I asked again, but this time specifying that I wanted a kick-ass superhero game where I would inevitably be voiced by Troy Baker. That is when Infamous Second Son was announced in 2013 and my infant child teenage brain literally melted. 

Infamous Second Son released only a few months after the PS4 dropped, showing off it’s specifications and hardware to such a grand degree, I still know the very grains of sand that rendered it on the beach of Seattle. The game is exactly how I’ve asked. A superhero story of a kid that uses his powers to fight an evil villain. As the villain explains their goals and the hero becomes stronger and more powerful, Seattle only becomes that much more of a diverse playground to fly around, jump and punch, and at one point even start to level whole buildings.

Being the powerful hero only gets more fun as the game progresses as the number of abilities expand from simple smoke tricks to straight up lazers. Delsin, our main character, is also clever, witty, and likeable. I can only emphasize his features in the PS4’s rendering technologies, but you just have to play it yourself.

The game also includes moral choices. While these choices are far more linear to be bad or good, the outcomes are not only very different, but the entire balance of gameplay changes as morally exclusive powers are unlocked for your character. This game demands you play it over again just to see how the other missions, powers, and endings even feel, let alone look. A memorable title, I would recommend this to anyone with a PS4, 100%

Salt & Sanctuary

Now before we go off the deep end, I am going to stomp all questions and rumors now. Yes, this is a difficult game. Yes, it has no online support but can still be 2-player couch co-op. Yes, it is made by two people, husband and wife. Now before we turn away, I would like to share that Salt & Sanctuary is the very testament that hand-crafted games from independent companies will always be in competition with AAA titles. 

The game has a massive world, sprawling with bosses and enemies that are never the same throughout the whole game. The enemies, almost immediately, take the spotlight for me, tied only to the landscapes. You go from fighting hatchet throwing bandits to fighting golems the size of buildings only one area apart. If Pyramid Head from the Silent Hill series and Mr. Krabs had a baby, it's an enemy. There are flying gremlins, evil pirates, Cthulhu daemons, skeleton wizards, lightning-breathing parrot lizards, unicorns (fuck those guys by the way), a demonic fart, short jesters, tall jesters, and more crazy amalgamations of pain. 

The design of the world is to behold. It is apparent that inspiration from other titles that loop back on each other are apparent here. Things like the first Dark Souls come to mind, where the player would loop back to the main hubs by progress and exploration, shortcuts to home could be made. It seems that Salt & Sanctuary takes this on a global level, which is perfectly done. Please, I beg of you, if you find nothing else on this list, get this game.

Marvel’s Spider-Man

Fucking Spider-Man. Be Spider-Man. That’s the game. 10/10.

(1)  *cough* *cough* Castle Crashers *cough* Bloons Tower Defense 4 *cough*

(2)   Batman Arkham Knight as Robin, Resident Evil 6 as Jake, LEGO Batman 2: DC Super Heroes as fucken everyone, Bioshock Infinite as Booker, Injustice: Gods Among Us as I’m realizing that DC might own this guy, Saints Row IV as The President, and more

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 14 - Home Truth

…in which Y/N discovers a family secret, and Harry is in despair.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 13: Ghosts - Y/N returns to Holmes Chapel, and Harry is a little too late.

A/N: The next chapter will be the last one of this book.

Warning: this is 8k word long, so it’s inevitable that I’ve made plenty of mistakes. If you spot some, just ignore them alright? 😂

OC version

.

"Y/N, can you take this to the attic?"

Y/N paused halfway down the stairs to lift an eyebrow at Marcy, who was holding a pile of old books and fashion magazines. The bride-to-be was probably influenced by their family tradition — in this house, they never threw away old things, instead, they either tried to fix them or hid them somewhere in case they might need them again. Most of those things ended up in the attic.

"Why don't you do it yourself? I'm busy," Y/N lied in order to get away with the little favor, only to realize how dumb she sounded. If she was in London, it would make total sense since the big city life was always in a rush. But now that she was in Holmes Chapel, how could she possibly be busy? All the people she wanted to be with were now far away. The only thing she could do was drive around town or bring a book to a coffee shop in her neighborhood to read the day away.

Marcy only gave Y/N a smile, ignoring the lame excuse as she insisted, "I would, but I'm allergic to dust. It'll only take a minute."

"Lucky you," Y/N muttered as she rolled her eyes and marched down the stairs to take the books and magazines from her future stepmother. 

Marcy thanked her for it before rushing back to the kitchen, probably to check on those cookies in the oven for her own wedding tomorrow morning. It was only a small celebration so the family did everything by themselves without hiring any wedding planner. Now that the decoration was all finished, Y/N wasn't much useful around the house since she couldn't cook. Therefore she told herself it was only fair if she did the small favor for Marcy.

To be honest, Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the attic. That place used to be her nightmare when she was a little girl. The thought of evil creatures lurking in the dark among dusty old furniture and shelves was the reason she'd slept with the light on for an entire month after climbing up there once out of curiosity. Now that she was an adult, it was barely more than a crawl space with low ceiling and mold. She had to hang her head to walk in, trying to locate obstacles in the dark for the only source of light was from the long narrow windows near the ceiling.

The unsoftened echo of her footsteps on the floor made of timber brought on a claustrophobic feeling, and so she put the books and magazines in the corner to hurry back to the ladder as fast as she could.

Right before she reached the entrance, Y/N tripped over a small table and almost lost her balance. But she didn't fall, instead, she knocked over a dusty carton box which fell onto the floor and created a loud thump that echoed within the confined space. Dust flying all over the place got the girl coughing uncontrollably, still, she decided to bend down and clean up the mess she'd made.

The first thing that got her attention was a portrait of her younger self, sketched by her mother. Everything in that box belonged to her mother. Most of them were drawings and souvenirs she'd bought on their family trips. Y/N had no idea how long they'd been in this attic, but judging from the yellow hue of the paper, she would guess that they had been there since her mother was still alive.

As a result, Y/N ended up staying in the attic for longer than she'd intended to. She sat on the floor, going through the rest of the stuff in the box, feeling whole inside for the fact that most of her mother's sketches were of her face, some others were corners of their house and random objects like a tea set, a bowl of fruits, a flower vase,...

There wasn't anything unusual, until...there was.

At the bottom of the box lied a little tin box. The girl almost didn't see it for it was hidden too well. For some reason, just looking at it gave her a feeling that there was something inside she had to see.

With her heart thumping like a drum, she brought it to her lap and carefully opened it. It would've been a huge disappointment if the box had been empty like she'd feared, but her instinct rarely made a mistake. The box contained many letters written to her mother from a man named Dave Hardfield, alongside which was a photo of them together. His lips were on Tam's cheek and Y/N had never seen her mother smile that bright before. At first, Y/N assumed the man used to be one of her mother's boyfriends before meeting her dad. However, when she looked at the date on each letter, she discovered the truth that'd been hidden for all those years. Those letters, love letters to be exact, had all been written and sent when her parents were married already.

Y/N found out, to her dismay, there were worse fears than invisible monsters in the attic, it was the ones living within every person including the ones you thought you knew all too well.

She picked up one of the letters to read through the first few lines just to make sure she didn't draw any conclusion way too soon. But what she learned wasn't what her heart wished it'd be. Her mother had been in love, madly in love, but with another man, not her father.

She felt a lump in her throat when she read the part about them planning on leaving this town once the divorce had been settled. That letter came just a week before the accident.

The grip of her hands tightened, nearly tearing the page in two. She was so in shock that her brain stuttered for a moment and breathing became difficult. It took her a while to come back to her sense and gather everything besides the letter to put it back in the tin box before leaving.

She didn't even think as she hurried down the ladder, marching straight to the front door while clutching the letter in her hand. This man, whoever he was, might have the answers to most of the questions she'd been asking herself since her mother's death, beginning with what had happened the night of the accident. Y/N walked fast, wasting no time, yet her father appeared without warning to stop her right before she could reach for the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter, who was quick to hide the letter behind her back.

"To a coffee shop," she said, trying too hard not to let her anxiety show. And maybe she was putting on such a good act that her dad didn't seem to suspect a thing.

"I was hoping you would stay to help us out."

"I will when I get back. Promise."

"Not so fast, young lady." Bradford cleared his throat loudly as he clutched her by the arm when she barely managed to escape. "You're acting strange. Are you alright?"

"Of course I am."

That reply was followed by the fakest laugh she'd ever pulled. Even she knew that, how could her father not?

"Is it—" The man paused to decide if he should make a guess. It wasn't really a guess since he already knew the truth. It was because of Harry. She'd been crying for that boy and hurting for that boy, like she had most of her life. It was obvious. But then again, Bradford pretended like he had no clue. His daughter had never been a sentimental person, not openly at least. Maybe it was one thing they both had in common.

"Never mind..." He sighed, twitching his lips. "Be back soon, alright?"

Smiling in return, Y/N gave her father a firm nod. "Hey dad, can I borrow your car?"

"Sure. But don't crash it."

It was meant to be a harmless joke. But as both of them came to realization, they just quietly stared at each other for two seconds long. Bradford handed her his car key, stuttering as he wanted to say something to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, Y/N didn't hesitate to walk out of the door.

The truth was, she had no plan at all. She just knew she was going to see the man named Dave Hardfield, whose address was on the letters sent to her mum. She didn't even have the script of the things she should say, or the list of questions about everything she was dying to know. She just wanted to go see the man to learn the truth, whatever it was, even when she wasn't ready to hear it from a complete stranger.

Funny how one surprise came right after another without a single break. The last person Y/N would expect to show up in Holmes Chapel right now, was waiting right outside her house by his car.

"Isaac?" She gasped, walking fast towards the man whose smile was as bright as the sun when he saw her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"So you...drove all the way here from London...to see me?"

He took a deep breath, letting it all out. "You're gonna tell me I'm stupid for doing this, aren't you?"

To his surprise, she shook her head fast and pulled him into a hug so tight that it almost took his breath away, literally. Y/N didn't seem to care as she kept repeating the words "thank you" into his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to also wrap his arms around her.

It finally occurred to her how desperate she was for a hug. It didn't matter whose. She just needed to feel a little bit of comfort after the series of traumatic events that'd been after her lately. At least with Isaac, she knew there was only peace.

"I'm going to Heartward," she said, pulling away but her hands were still resting on his hips. "Wanna come with me?"

"Where is that?"

"It's a town nearby, only an hour drive from here."

"Sure. Let's go."

Shocked by the answer, she grabbed him by the wrist when he turned back to unlock his car doors.

"You're not gonna ask me why I'm going there?" She raised both eyebrows, mouth agape. He, on the other hand, looked as cool as ever.

"We've got an hour in the car, right?" Isaac said with a beam as he opened the door on the passenger side for Y/N.

Now she felt the need to hug him again for she didn't think she could ever repay his kindness. In order to save time, however, she'd probably save that later. If they didn't get going right away, they wouldn't be back soon enough for her dad to not suspect a thing.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed with a bright smile, watching Isaac shake his head as he laughed before getting into the vehicle as well.

.

.

.

For most of her life, Y/N had lived in Holmes Chapel and hadn't realized until now that she'd never gone any further than her neighborhood. This was her first journey to a different town in Cheshire. As turned out, it was a lot different from her own. The streets here were narrower and the houses were smaller. While Holmes Chapel had always been simple, Heartward was a maze with the labyrinth of roads, as complex as the human heart.

"Are you nervous?" Isaac's voice pulled Y/N's attention away from the window, back on him.

"Of course I am." She snorted, inhaling deeply to let the silence sink back in for a couple seconds before speaking up again. "What type of person do you think he is?"

"Probably kind. I mean, your mother was kind."

The answer made the girl chuckle as she lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't even know my mother."

"I know you," he said, his blue eyes sparkled with joy.

In that instant, Y/N felt warm within and she was glad he'd shown up at her door. She would still be freaking out right now if she'd gone alone. It was rather funny how she'd been his damsel in distress countless times ever since they first met. Sometimes she did think about it and wondered how he still felt about her after everything. Was he nice to the others too or her only? If the latter was the case, then there was another reason for her to believe she didn't deserve someone like him.

The smile grew on Y/N's face as she watched Isaac's face screw up while he was concentrating on the road ahead. That same smile, sadly, died out the second he brought up the name she'd tried to erase from memory.

"Have you talked to Harry?"

Y/N gave Isaac a shrug, turning back to the window on her side. "I will...at some point."

He didn't ask any further, thank god for that. The last thing she wanted was for him to figure out what had really happened between her and Harry. Though she no longer felt the pressure to reveal her sexual relationship with him to Isaac or anyone else for that matter, she was still afraid what Isaac might think of her if somehow he found out. Honestly, she felt cheap. Even though her feelings for Harry had always been true, to him she was just a replacement, nothing but a body to get him through the night while his heart stayed missing somebody else. But that was exactly what she'd signed up for, so she shouldn't be bitter now that it didn't end the way she wanted.

"Speaking of the devil," the girl muttered under her breath when a couple texts from H popped up on her screen.

"Read it," Isaac said, his eyebrows furrowed. "He must worry about you a lot."

Little did he knew, Y/N did want to. She really wanted to.

Harry had called her a hundred times since this morning and she'd fought herself from answering those calls. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she only read his texts and not reply to them. Nodding in response to Isaac's words, she eventually opened those messages.

⌲ H: If you get this, please text me back.

⌲ H: Let me know you're safe.

⌲ H: Please call me back, text me, anything.

⌲ H: I need to talk to you please.

"So? How's he?"

Y/N turned off her phone and put it away as she also turned a deaf ear to Isaac's question.

"You haven't told him where I am, right?" She asked in concern, only to sigh in relief when he shook his head.

"If I had, he would be here instead of me." With a slight chuckle, he added, "you're really good at ghosting on people, Smiley."

"Only the ones who deserve it."

When Y/N received no reply, she turned to see the goofy grin on the man's face.

Pinching his lip slightly, Isaac kept his eyes on the road rather on her as he joked, "if I hadn't texted you when I was in Italy, we would never have spoken again, right?"

She knew he wasn't serious when he said that, but his expression alone could still pain her heart. A sense of guilt flooded into her hollow chest to replace the comfort she'd been feeling this entire time in the car with him. Isaac was too nice to admit that she had hurt him too for coldly turning him down once before. She'd been too busy paying attention to how she was feeling and forgotten about him. Why was he still here after everything? Why was he still treating her like the only person in the world who mattered? Why hadn't he asked for anything in return?

"Isaac—"

"Oh! We're here!" The man happily announced as he slowed down and pulled his car over on the side of the road. She wasn't sure if he cut her off on purpose or he genuinely didn't hear her. But maybe this wasn't the time to talk about them.

"Are you sure this is the place?" She asked in disbelief when they both got out of the car at the same time.

"It is. I've checked the address twice," he assured, yet looking just as appalled as she was.

The house they were looking for was square and grey, with narrow windows that looked far from picturesque. Y/N had to check the address for the third time to make sure it matched the one on the letter. This place looked like it'd been abandoned for years. Maybe the owner didn't really care to pay enough attention to making his front yard and porch look even the slightest presentable.

Exchanging worrying looks with Isaac, she finally found enough courage to press the doorbell. She wasn't sure if anybody was home because through the windows all that she saw was a part of the pitch dark living room as far as natural light could reach.

Fortunately, just when the two of them thought they might have to leave empty-handed, the door slowly creaked open.

Y/N had never met this man in her life, but his expression when he saw her made her think he had known her his entire life. His face was stern, yet peaceful. And even though his hair was turning grey and the wrinkles were slightly visible on his broad forehead, he still appeared quite handsome for a man his age.

"Excuse me, sir," Y/N spoke after two awkward seconds passing by unnoticed. "Are you...Dave Hardfield?"

"Yes, I am." The middle-aged man nodded, his eyes were still round as he stared at her in confusion. "You are..."

"I'm Y/N, Tam's daughter," she said, handing him the envelope she'd been holding the entire time. "I found your letter in my attic, and—"

That sentence was left unfinished when Dave opened his arms and dragged her into a hug without warning. Isaac flinched, nearly pulling Y/N back for he feared the man might do something to her, but the moment he spotted the hopeful look on Dave's face, he decided to stay back and remain silent.

"You look just like her."

Those words from the stranger made Y/N's eyes well up when he loosened his embrace to cup her face. He examined her features, eyes glistened with tears as a smile spread across his chapped lips.

"She has the same beautiful eyes."

"Wow...that's very...nice of you. Thank you..."

Isaac couldn't help but chuckle at Y/N's reply, receiving a playful glare when she turned back to him.

"Come in, you two! come in!" Dave said fast, giving Y/N and Isaac no time to hesitate before urging them into his living room. When the door was shut, and the lights were on, Y/N saw the living proof of the saying 'never judge a book by its cover'. The interior was the opposite of the mess she'd seen when she first arrived — tidy and very well-taken care of.

Dave's living room gave away more than it was supposed to. Every decoration was soft and homely, showing the fact that he probably lived alone. In order to fill the void, he had created a cozy place that made him feel safe and warm so he wouldn't have to come home to remember how lonely he was. Y/N would know that better than anyone.

Above the fireplace were pictures of him with his children, she assumed, for they were arranged from the left when his twins were babies to the latest one on the right being the three of them together at the girls' graduation. There was no photo of the wife.

Dave sat down on his chair and pointed to the sofa in front of him, telling his two guests to make themselves at home. There was already a tea set on the table, so he made two cups for Y/N and Isaac, saying that he'd already had his before they arrived.

"So Y/N, is this your boyfriend?"

"No." Y/N blushed hard when she caught Isaac's stare and turned away quickly.

"My name's Isaac, I'm her friend from London," said the young man as he reached out to shake Dave's hand, showing his signature Prince Charming smirk. How could anyone not go soft for that?

"Oh, how do you like Holmes Chapel so far, son?"

"To be honest, I've been in Heartward for longer than Holmes Chapel." He chuckled, glancing at Y/N who furrowed her eyebrows at him. "This one literally dragged me here when I first arrived at her house."

She pushed his shoulder playfully, laughing along. "In my defense, I did ask if he wanted to come."

"The things we do for these ladies, right?"

Dave's comment made Isaac chuckle, but Y/N had already turned away to hide the fact that she was all flustered.

As the young people enjoyed their tea, the older man took his own letter out of the envelope, smiling nonchalantly at the memories while rereading what he'd written two years ago.

Y/N gave him a moment to get lost in his happy thoughts before breaking the silence among the three of them. "So it's true...you and my mother..."

The man's beam slowly turned into a frown as he sighed heavily, putting the letter back into its envelope.

"Yes," he confessed, eyes locked with the girl who still seemed in denial even though she'd known the truth ever since she first read his letter. Her mother, a cheater? The woman she'd looked up to her entire life turned out to be that kind of person? It didn't make any sense.

"We were in love," Dave went on despite the look on her face. "It wasn't something I was proud of, to fall head over heels for a married woman. But...I guess we never get to choose whom we fall in love with."

Isaac's eyes were on Y/N, yet hers were fixed on the man who was speaking. She didn't know how to feel anymore. Should she hate this man for ruining her parents' marriage just like how she had hated Marcy for thinking it was her? The problem was, she couldn't grow to hate him, not even the tiniest bit.

"How old are you?" Dave asked, eyes squinting at Y/N.

"Twenty."

"Wow." He sucked in a breath and rubbed his palms together nervously. "You were fifteen when I met her. Can't believe it's been five years."

"Were you married at the time?"

"No. My ex-wife left me when my girls were only six. They barely remember her."

The look on his face was heartbreaking still.

"I'm sorry," said Y/N as she wetted her dry lips. "Uhm...where are your children now?"

"They're both living in California with their husbands. I'm very proud of them," he said with a huge grin. That was enough to tell how much his children meant to him. "They're just four years older than you."

"Oh, they're the same age as you!" Y/N told Isaac, who responded with a slight laugh for how excited she seemed to discover the coincidence.

"When the girls left home, I was devastated," Dave continued with a sad smile, looking at them both. "Tam was the best thing to happen to me at the time. I believe I was also hers. She was unhappy in her marriage, yet she couldn't leave because...she didn't want to force you to choose between her and your father."

Y/N stayed silent, nodding her head slowly.

"The day of the accident, he found out about us and they got into a fight." His voice grew smaller and weaker as he recalled the tragic event that took away the woman he loved. "When I received the news, my whole world fell apart. Even now...I still blame myself for what happened to her. If I'd just given up and let her go, maybe she would still be here."

So that was how it'd happened. Her mother's affair was the reason there'd been a fight. That was why she'd given her father back the ring and drove away from the damage she'd caused. That was the truth — a hard pill to swallow.

"But you made her happier than my father did..." She spoke after a moment sinking deep in her own thoughts.

"You...don't hate me?" Dave seemed surprised by her reaction. It was certainly not what he'd expected.

"No." The girl shook her head. "At least now I know she was truly loved. So...thank you."

Dave didn't say anything else. Y/N didn't ask either. They exchanged heartwarming smiles, and Isaac reached out to hold the hand on her lap, giving her a look that said he was there for her if she wanted emotional support. Maybe that was she needed to feel at peace again.

The drive home was strangely comforting for all the secrets had been revealed, and what was left was just bare relief. Staring out of the car window, Y/N recorded the last images of Heartward into her mind like a goodbye to the little town. Then she began to wonder how many times her mother had driven down that same road, or if she had remembered the map of Heartward like the back of her hand. Maybe Heartward was her mother's London, the place that wasn't really home, but there lived the man whom her heart would always belong to.

.

.

.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am." The girl chuckled slightly as she watched Isaac stand with his back against the car, one hand still holding hers. Now that she was home safe and he knew that she was safe. She wondered what would happen next. Would they say their goodbyes and he go back to London, maybe back to Italy even?

The problem was, now she didn't want him to go.

"You sure you're okay?" He raised both eyebrows, making her toss her head back and crack up.

"Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you that I am?"

"Alright, alright, just wanted to be sure," he said, grinning from ear to ear and checking his watch.

Y/N studied his expression closely, wishing she could ask him to stay, a part of her was still reluctant that she might've troubled him too much already. Nevertheless, it wasn't her to decide what happened next.

"Y/N!"

The loud voice caused both Isaac and Y/N to let go of each other's hands as they turned to her front door. Her father rushed towards them, followed by Marcy. Both seemed so distressed that Y/N thought it was quite hilarious.

"You're safe!"

"Dad, I've only been gone for a couple hours."

Isaac chuckled as he watched the girl trying to break away from her father's arms.

"The car was here and you were gone, so I thought—"

"That I got kidnapped by the ice-cream man?" She laughed, holding him by the arms. It was then that Marcy finally noticed the handsome young man standing right behind her future stepdaughter.

"Oh!" She squealed happily. "Who's your friend, Y/N?"

"Hi, I'm Isaac, Y/N's friend from London. You must be the bride."

"I am!" The woman shook his hand enthusiastically, giving him a massive smile. "Hey, why don't you stay for our wedding? A friend of Y/N's is a friend of ours!"

"Thank you, ma'am. But I'm only here for today. I'm leaving now actually."

"Would you like to stay though?"

All eyes were on Y/N when she asked that question. She couldn't really blame them for even she didn't believe in her own words. Her cheeks instantly turned red as she was sure Isaac noticed how shy she was. His smile grew a bit wider.

"Stay for the wedding?" He questioned, probably just wanting her to say it again.

"Yeah..." She nodded fast, eyes to the side instead of looking at him. "Uhm...I do need a wedding date."

"Wait, but I thought Har—"

"That's a great idea!" Bradford cut his bride off just in time as he stepped forward to pat the young man on the back. "It's not safe to drive back to London through the night. Come in, we'll have the guest room ready for you."

"But I'm not formally dressed for the wedding—"

"Don't worry about that. It's just gonna be a family party," Bradford said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, you cannot miss an opportunity to see Y/N in a pink dress for the first time since she decided that adolescent angst suited her personality better."

"Dad!" Y/N cried out, causing the other three to dissolve into laughter. Hiding her face with one hand, she sneaked a look at Isaac, who couldn't stop beaming at this point. There was something about the radiant joy on his face that made her feel calm. Holding back a laugh, she watched Marcy pull him into their house.

Marcy was still baking for the wedding tomorrow, and since she had to do it all on her own, she was thrilled to bits when Isaac offered his help.

"I used to help my mum in the kitchen all the time," said the young man. That was enough to convince her that he was qualified to be the Executive Sous Chef in her kitchen. Bradford intended to join them as well, but Y/N stopped him right before he could volunteer to lend a hand.

"Dad, can we talk in private?" She asked, holding onto his arm.

In this household, they rarely discussed their conflicts and problems, just like old furniture, they put those in a dark corner and pretended they didn't exist until someone suddenly remembered they were still there. But look at what all these secrets they'd kept from each other had turned them into? A broken family. They had never been truly happy under the same roof. From now on, something had to change.

Bradford followed his daughter upstairs to her room where their conversation couldn't be heard. When she asked him to sit down in her chair and shut the door, he knew it was something serious. So serious that someone who had avoided every single heart-to-heart talk in her life like Y/N must initiate this conversation.

Without further ado, she sat down on the edge of her bed and handed him the letter from Dave Hardfield. Judging by the look on his face, she knew he had never expected her to find out like this, if at all.

"I came to see him today," she spoke at last, tearing down the silence which was only tormenting them both. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I found out about this the day before your graduation, darling. And the accident came right after. This news would've broken you even more."

"What about after the funeral? What about when I moved to London? You'd had so many chances to tell me," she stated. The tears in her eyes were inevitable yet it still hurt him to see her cry. He didn't need to know she'd been holding them back since the moment she found those letters in the attic. He didn't need to know what the other man had said to her. All he knew was his little girl had been through so much only to find out the truth about her mother from a stranger.

"I didn't want you to hate her for this."

His answer left a lump in her throat as she swallowed her tears and narrowed her eyes at him.

"So you just let me hate you instead?"

When he nodded, her heart nearly cracked open.

"She was a better parent than I am," he said with his head hung low. "You used to tell her everything. I can't-I don't remember the last time we sat down and talked like this. Everything I know about you, your mother told me. The bond you two had was so strong, and you looked up to her so much, I couldn't take that idea of her away from you. I wanted you to always think about her as a role model so you would always have a reason to never give up."

Y/N was speechless. She pressed her lips tight and could only nod fast to replace the words she couldn't come up with right now. Bradford scooted his chair closer so he could take her hand and hold it tight, meanwhile wiping away the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, what he should've done years ago.

"Did you...did you ever love her?" Her voice trembled as if it was going to break anytime soon.

"I did. I still do," he admitted, his eyes now glistened with tears. "My biggest regret was not appreciating her presence in my life. I didn't treat her right because I thought she would always be around, until she wasn't anymore."

"So...did you hate her?"

"No." The father shook his head. "And I hope you won't either."

She looked at him through the tears, subconsciously reaching up to touch the locket lying close to her heart which was now racing faster than ever. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, "what she did cannot change the fact that she loved me, and she was the nicest person I knew. How can I ever stop loving her?"

"Good."

That one-word reply was so simple yet just enough. It was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time how they both cried and wiped away each other's tears only to smile again. This was the closest Y/N had ever been to feeling fulfilled.

When she was little, every time her parents fought, she used to wish for a better family with perfect parents who never argued. But maybe this was the best she could get. At least now she knew her imperfect family could finally be a happy one.

"Brad!" Marcy's voice from downstairs made Bradford and Y/N turn to the door. "Don't think you can get away with not helping me!"

"We'd better go." Y/N chuckled as she rose from the bed. But before she could reach the door, Bradford stopped her by the words he hadn't said in too long.

"I love you."

Y/N couldn't keep track of how many nights she'd lost sleep over those three words. She had faced the fear that she might not get to hear them back. She had faced the reality that she didn't get to hear them back. To hear them now from the man she thought she should hate most in her life had filled the empty space inside her chest, even if temporarily.

"I love you, too," she said almost as a whisper but loud enough for her father to hear. Without waiting for a reaction from him, she rushed into his arms, hugging him for the first time since she was just a little girl.

Now that she was older, she must accept the fact that her parents weren't heroes and she might not really know the people she'd always thought she knew. However, true love was constant. The love for her mother, for Harry, would always be there, no matter what kind of people they turned out to be or what secrets they'd kept from her. Just like herself, she knew they had their own pain so she couldn't blame them for their mistakes.

She might not replicate what she had lost. She wasn't sure anyone could ever fill the shoes of her mother or him. But some love could only be beautiful if kept in memory. Thus from now on, she was willing to let them both go.

.

.

.

"So, this photo was taken on her first day of kindergarten."

"Brad! Look at her cute pigtails! I can't believe you never showed me this before!"

Y/N sat on the armchair facing the other three on the sofa opposite from her. They had their noses stuck the family photo album. It was like a game to see who could spot the most embarrassing photo of her as a child. Apparently, her dad was winning.

"Are you guys all done?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her chest as her face contorted, but nobody flinched.

"Aww, the Donald Duck Halloween costume." Isaac chuckled. He tried to ignore her, yet couldn't help but glance up to catch a glimpse of the look on her face as she scoffed in response to his comment.

When Y/N picked out a daisy in front of her and tossed it at him, Marcy wasted no time to grab the vase, holding it firmly against her chest.

"The whatever you want, just don't hurt my flowers!" She said.

"Okay, the fun's over!" Y/N rose from her seat to grab the photo album and put it aside. With both hands on her hips, she lifted an eyebrow at the men. "Chop-chop. Get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac and Bradford said at the same time as they hurried back to the tasks they'd been assigned before getting distracted by those photos.

Bradford stood up so Y/N could take his place next to Isaac and continue arranging those wedding flowers for Marcy. Meanwhile, the father kept on looking for that cookbook he hadn't seen in years, only because Marcy's parents expected him to cook for them tomorrow night. He was just about to head upstairs and search in his room, when his phone began to ring.

It was Harry.

The man had hesitated for a long moment before picking up that call. He didn't want to see Y/N's reaction if she caught him speaking to Harry. Even so, he still wanted to know what had happened between them, knowing she would refuse to confide in him, or anyone for that matter.

"Hello?" He finally answered, keeping his voice down so his family couldn't hear.

"Is Bambi, I mean, Y/N...Is Y/N there, sir? If she is, can you get her on the phone?"

Bradford had known Harry since he was little, and he knew Harry was a good person by nature. However, after seeing the pain his daughter had endured, he now must pick a side.

Sitting in his living room was the man who made his daughter laugh, on the phone was the one who made her cry. The choice should be fast and simple, yet there was utter guilt within his heart when he decided to keep Harry from the truth.

"She went out a while ago," he lied, his heart fell to silence as a long pause followed right after.

"She doesn't wanna talk to me, right?" The sadness was clear in Harry's voice when he finally spoke.

Even though Bradford had no idea Isaac was Harry's best friend, he was aware that Harry's heart would be crushed if he found out Y/N was laughing with another man on the sofa, and the same man would accompany her to the wedding tomorrow. The father had no other choice but to be frank, "I think you should wait until after the wedding, when she returns to London. You know, give her time."

Harry was quiet for a while, as if to ponder on his own.

"Sir...do you think she still hates me?"

For this question, the older man took a deep breath. "I don't know Y/N that well, but she can never hate you."

"I know I would if I were her."

"Y/N always says things she doesn't mean. I thought you would know that better than anyone else." Bradford chuckled slightly. "She said she hated you when you left the first time, yet she still sent you those letters."

"Letters?" Harry sounded like he almost choked on the word. "What letters?"

"You never received any? That's odd...She used to check our mailbox every day, and her mother once told me that she'd been writing to you."

Bradford waited, yet the reply what came after was nothing but silence.

"Harry?" He mumbled, assuming something was wrong with the phone and the young man couldn't hear him well, until Harry cleared his throat and said that he was still listening, he must hang up now regardless.

"Can you please ask her to call me back?"

Harry's plea for help sounded so desperate. Now Bradford could only feel sorry for the boy. He looked over his shoulder, into the living room. Y/N and Isaac had long forgotten that they were supposed to be arranging the wedding flowers. They were too busy fooling around by putting daisies in each other's hair while guffawing like children. Seeing the beam on his daughter's face, Bradford was able to empathize with Harry. It definitely wasn't easy to remember how much you loved someone only when came someone else who wiped away their tears and made them smile again.

"Take my advice," the father spoke with a soft reminiscent sigh, turning his back to Y/N and Isaac. "Some things are not meant to be said on the phone."

The two-second pause on Harry's part made Bradford believe his guess was right all along. What Harry wanted to say were the three words that had started this whole mess, and Y/N deserved to hear them in person.

"I know," the young man spoke at last. "Thank you so much." And just like that, he muttered his goodbye.

The call ended with a sense of sorrowful regret, leaving Bradford standing still with messy thoughts flowing through his mind. It was Y/N's voice that pulled him back to reality.

"Dad, who was it?"

Turning his head fast, the man locked eyes with his daughter's. For a second, it was Tam that he saw staring back at him, and in that instant, he realized how much Y/N resembled her late mother.

"Was it him?" Her eyebrows furrowed when he nodded his head as an answer. What was the use of lying when she already knew the truth?

"You should call him back," he suggested. "He wanted to talk to you."

"But I don't wanna talk to him." Y/N's answer turned the man speechless. He parted his lips, yet she was quick to cut him off before he even figured out what else to say. "If he calls again, tell him he doesn't have to feel sorry...It was also my fault for expecting too much."

"Darling, it's not your f—"

"Tell him I won't call him back." Y/N interrupted her father once again. "There's really no point in torturing each other anymore."

From the look in her expressive eyes, the man understood that his daughter was badly hurt by those words of her own, yet she must say them otherwise she could never truly move on.

In silence, he watched her go back to the living room where Marcy was now instructing Isaac how to arrange those daisies. Even though he respected Y/N's decision, Bradford knew, just like him, a small part of her still wished it was Harry instead.

.

.

.

It was quite a wrench to Harry when that call came to an end and he hadn't got to hear her voice. The director got really mad at him for being distracted during filming and checking his phone way too often. Harry made up an excuse that he was just tired, yet none of the people he worked with was convinced. It'd been the worst day in his life ever since she left.

On the drive home, he couldn't stop replaying the conversation with one of his co-stars, who said, "I feel like this isn't what you love anymore."

He'd thought about that sentence a lot before coming to the conclusion that the man who'd said it was completely wrong. This had nothing to do with him being lazy or losing motivation since acting was what he was born to do. He loved his job, and was indeed grateful for all that he had now. But there were also the other things that he loved, one of which was her.

Now she was 185 miles away from him. And he couldn't even get her on the phone just to explain why he'd hesitated to admit that he loved her, to apologize and beg for another chance. He knew he couldn't make it back to the wedding because he'd got a commercial to shoot tomorrow morning, and he couldn't wait until after because it'd be too long. But maybe her father was right, words would sound much more sincere if they were said in person.

There was, however, something else that was bothering him. Bradford had mentioned those letters she'd written to him when she was younger. At first, he'd assumed they all had got lost in the mail, yet it seemed too much of a coincidence to be true, unless the universe really didn't want him to read them.

What if she'd never sent those letters? If so, where were they now?

Harry was too lost in the questions for himself that he almost didn't recognize his assistant who was waiting for him outside his house. The girl had to call out his name to get his attention as he walked right past her.

"Jo? What are you doing here so late?"

"Jeff said you had a rough day on set so he asked me to buy you dinner," said the short brunette as she fixed her glasses and handed the food to her boss. "And Miss Ruby Ellis called me a couple times today asking to talk to you, but I told her you were busy. Do you want me to set up a date—"

"No. It's fine," he cut her off fast, pressing his lips into a small smile. "Next time just ignore her calls."

"Oh...Okay...One more thing!" The girl stopped her boss when he unlocked his door. "I brought your laundry into your room and accidentally knocked over the books on your nightstand. I already put them back."

"Jo, you don't have to report everything to me," Harry replied as he chuckled, assuming the girl was new to her job so she was just overly careful.

Jo shook her head quickly. "I was afraid that you would see the books in a different place and think I got intrusive and read your journal or something."

"My journal?"

"Yeah, the pink notebook with your name at the back."

Harry's eyes went wide as realization hit him like a fast-moving train. He thanked his assistant, saying a fast goodbye before rushing into his house. The first thing he did was run to his bedroom and get Y/N's notebook.

She'd had it since she was nine. He always knew she wrote a lot in there, including her random thoughts, her favorite quotes, her story ideas, almost everything she could come up with; some she'd read to him, some she'd kept to herself. But he never actually got to read for himself.

If she was writing letters that she never planned on sending, would there be a better place to keep them?

Harry felt awful as he brought the pink notebook to his lap and sat down on the bed, inhaling deeply. He wouldn't want anyone to read his deepest and most personal thoughts, surely she wouldn't be happy to find out that he wanted to read hers. He was going to anyway. Desperation had got the best of him.

With trembling hand, he flipped to the back of the notebook, and immediately spotted his name written in small capital letters at the bottom corner of the hardcover. Harry didn't know why he was smiling as he gently ran his thumb over the word. He missed her too much that such a small detail could make his heart flutter.

After contemplating it for a whole minute, he took another deep breath and opened it for the first time.

Here goes nothing, said his inner voice.

The first page, which he'd seen once before, was filled with silly doodles made by a nine-year-old, hence they weren't pretty. He still remembered the day she showed him these and got mad when he made fun of her for her awful drawing skill. The memory made Harry chuckle as he turned to the second page where lied the very first entry. The ink was slightly faded due to all the years it'd lived by. Her handwriting used to be so easy to read.

On the first line right below the date, she wrote:

My definition of true happiness is the boy next door. His name is Harry Styles.

[kittymaverick]

MCF Moths to a Flame commentary part 2...

I really heavily underestimated how much jumping I was gonna do watching the gameplay alone... So, Eipex, good job on making me scared for the MD’s life... MD: LEMME OUT. If this weren’t so entertaining, I would honestly be screaming the same still...

1. Pazu: I remember these people Who doesn’t? MD: I wish I don’t! 2. Oh, THEY MOVED THE ENTIRE DOOR HERE??? MD: ...Okay, next time, I’m not just bringing a lighter. I’m bringing lighter, and gasoline, and kerosene, and napalm, AND A TONNE OF TNT JUST TO BE SURE NOTHING OF THAT MANOR EVER SURVIVES AGAIN. 3. MD: this room, it’s like all the Ravenhearst cases in one-- I’m gonna go pass out in the corner. Eipex, when I asked for Ravenhearst, I don’t think I meant like... give the MD a full room of it... Or maybe I did... MD: I knew this case was bad before we started whyyyyyyyyy did I come whyyyyyyyyyyy *sobbing* 4. There’s even a shrine-- wait, why does Gwen’s nest have... eggs... MD, which one of the twins was it that survived? MD: Um, let me check your posts... Okay, apparently, it was Charlotte. ...Are we absolutely, 100%ly, without any doubt whatsoever, certainty beyond all reasonable speculations that Gwen LEGIT DIED WHEN ALISTAIR STABBED HER? MD: ...Look, I checked her body, OKAY? RANSACKED IT EVEN. THE DALIMARS DON’T EXACTLY STAY DEAD THOUGH IF YOU HAVEN’T EXACTLY NOTICED. (Meanwhile, probably elsewhere in this museum, maybe... Dalimars: The Master Detective sure likes arguing with themselves nowadays... they’re never going to get to the end of this game at this rate...) 5. MD: I probably shouldn’t go into a fireplace that just showed up, but... I’m too curious-- Oh, good to know you’re just like a cat like me! Which life are you on now? MD: ...Considering Ankou gave me the feather, negative 2? 6. Complex puzzles actually seem doable and logical this time! Though it is hella creepy. 7. “All the cases are too easy! I’m gonna look into some of the Master Detective cases next. Maybe there’ll be a challenge in there.“ MD: I’m second hand embarrassed about this man’s ego. And other than the security breach your agency has, can I say... Your cases don’t so much have challenges in them as so much as loose ends that never tie up... MD: Look, I REALLY try with the fire, okay??? 8. Shoot all the evil ducks. If you shoot a wrong one, you’ll have to start again! MD: THIS IS THE NEW WHACK-A-TROLL I SWEAR. Pazu: I got this. *100% it* MD: See, in the hands of a good player, I still got it. ...First, how dare you diss me. Second, You do realize your adversary now know your shooting skills, right? MD: Shut up and let me have my small victories will you? 9. Hm, Raven badge, crystal badge... wonder if the last one is going to be death badge.... MD: If the Dalimars and that Scottish guy teamed up, I’m as good as dead... 10. ...is that... is that? MD: ...ISIS??? PLEASE LET US KEEP HER AS A PET. MD: Wait, HOW DID YOU GET CAUGHT? YOU’RE BASICALLY A GHOST CAT. Isis: *innocent kitty eyes* 11. Gargoyle chest with... Madame Fate’s Crystal Ball. MD: Please tell me that’s not the real thing because if it is, I’m breaking it right here and now. I think the pieces are under lock and key because they have Charles’ soul fragments in them right now, right? MD: EXACTLY MY POINT. 12. Video guy assumes you’re a guy. MD: I’m glad as least one part of my identity has been kept secret more than anything else... (Note: MD’s voice acting in this game suggests they are feminine) 13. And the final badge is revealed to be... the cog badge? Wha? (Even Pazu is confused lol.) ((I also just realized, we’re still in the Beta segment of the videos...I’m gonna cry in act 2 and 3, aren’t I?)) 14. MD: Should I be scared or honored that someone made rooms out of my old cases? Do you really want me to answer the obvious? MD: ...Okay, VERY SCARED. FREAKED OUT SCARED. ...BUT THEN YOU KEEP ON DOING THOSE PUZZLES. MD: I CAN’T HELP IT OKAY IT’S MY OCCUPATIONAL HABIT AT THIS POINT. 15. Cheating with weights on the hammer, MD? MD: Look, I walk around a lot solving cases, but that doesn’t exactly leave me time to work out, okay? 16. Oh, so MAC... was constructed by this guy-- MD: ARE YOU SAYING MY BADGE LITERALLY BETRAYED ME??? Well... MD: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT I CAN’T EVEN TRUST MY BADGE IN THIS WORLD ANYMORE. WHERE IS THE NEAREST CLIFF I’M GONNA YEET MYSELF OFF OF IT. (...I did say they were gonna give us a companion cube just to take it away, didn’t I?...) 17. MD, considering how well you know the queen... um, why didn’t you check before coming here whether it was fake or not? MD: ... Well? MD: Look, UK’s going through Brexit right now okay, I don’t think she wants to be disturbed when her country is in a crisis. 18. Okay, past the spire staircases! And behind door number three is-- OH NO. MD: OH THANK GOD THEY ARE ALIVE. NO THAT’S NOT GOOD WE HAVE HOSTAGES. REPEAT WE HAVE HOSTAGES! 19. Chloe: Thanks for freeing me-- MD: Okay, can I first say, how could you fall for this? Um, pot calling the kettle black here? MD: ...OKAY OKAY I’LL RESCUE YOU THREE THEN WE’LL REEVALUATE OUR METHODS, TOGETHER. Aiden: Make that Archivist pay for what he did to us! Blake: ...No pressure? MD: *sobbing* 20. MD: OKAY I GOT EVERYTHING, AND THIS IS... an apprentice badge? Archivist: Yo. Wassup? *Springs trap* MD: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT WE KNEW IT WE KNEW IT WE KNEW IT Other detectives: Um, oops, sorry? Archivist: Really, though, how could you fall for that? And you call yourself a Master-- MD: I AM GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE AND HURT YOU SO BAD YOU WILL WISH YOU WERE DUMBER. Archivist: Um... that wasn’t... on the script-- Me and MD: SHUT UP WE HAVE A LOT OF FRUSTRATIONS AND PARANOIA BUILT UP OVER THE YEARS TO VENT OKAY. MD: And YOU just happen to be on the receiving end of it. Archivist: *drops trap several stories down* MD: DAMN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-- [Here endith the Beta section!] 21. Hey, we awake? MD: Yeah... awake, ish. OW. Need, to, break, out, somehow. How convenient this guy left sharp objects in the cabinet here for us to use... MD: ...How did the glass not break from the fall? ...Hey, I’m supposed to be playing captain obvious here, not you! MD: Oh right, sorry. Anyway, to vandalism! 22. Archivist: You’re sloppy, aren’t you? MD: Says the guy who left sharp objects for me to break out of here with. Probably because he WANTS you to break out. Archivist: Remember Broken Hours, detective? Tick tock-- MD: I can’t believe I preferred the Dalimars as the villains. Me neither. At least they had some competence in their madness, minus Victor. 23. Blake: Take this Detective! Quick, I’m almost out of time-- OKAY WE ACTUALLY HAVE A HOSTAGE SITUATION HURRY UP! MD: If we take back the incompetence comment, will you give us more time? Archivist: No, of course not. MD: I thought so, you incompetent bastard. Archivist: You little...! Um, PUZZLES AND LIVES TO SAVE PLEASE??? 24. MD: Solving books puzzles gives me more books? Really now, that’s real creative-- Um... is that what I think it is? MD: It’s... It’s nitroglycerin. I’m... I’m so moved. Finally someone understands me. *sobs* Might I remind you this guy has your colleagues HOSTAGE??? 25. There are literally so many references to past games that I’m like overwhelmed with joy. MD: And I’m overwhelmed with HORROR. 26. Pazu: He’s going to get squashed. THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING. MD: Nah, he’s gonna be fine. I hope. I wish. I mean, I usually turn out fine, right? Right??? ...I’m starting to think your agency is so broke because of all the health bills you guys need to get reimbursed afterwards. 27. Archivist: You fall into my traps again and again-- Let’s be honest, that’s just an MD thing, okay? The rest of the MCF crew-- well, actually... Okay, you know what MD, the Archivist is kind of right here. It’s like you guys are literally DRAWN to traps. MD: I’m sorry for being a bad role model and starting the trend? 28. Huh, this room, looks REALLY familiar. MD: I GET IT. THIS GUY, HE’S A COPYCAT. LITERALLY NONE OF HIS THINGS ORIGINATE FROM HIM. HE’S BEEN STEALING THEM FROM EVERYWHERE AND FRANKENSTEINING THEM TOGETHER. It’s almost kind of impressive in a very disturbing way... 29. MD: Oh hey, Parker, coming with? ...I think the reason why you didn’t get a partner for this mission now is because... they all got kidnapped. MD: Yeah, I’m starting to see that now. We REALLY need better security... 30. MD: Found the center of the mechanism! Now to stop it-- WAIT, THINK, THIS IS A TRAP? MD: Gosh I hate that I have to do that for everything now... 31. Pazu: what is this obsession with badges? Someone clearly didn’t get one and is salty. MD: Gods, all four of us agents are going to need new badges after this, aren’t we. Oh gods that’s gonna come out of our pay too, I’m sure... Speaking of badges, look! You get an agent badge! MD: Can’t believe I’m saying this but I really, really, really, much prefer solving the case involving STAIN as well as about the Hope Diamond to get my qualifications than this... massive puzzle tower... Wasn’t Huntsville how you got start on the whole MD path to begin with? And solving the Hope Diamond got the queen asking you to go to Ravenhearst? MD: ...*sighs* yes, this is a trip down memory lane in the worst way possible, I swear... 32. Um, someone’s calling. You gonna pick up? MD: You know, the least you could do is fix broken things after bringing them over, Archivist? Archivist: But if I did that, where’s the SURPRISE? MD: The last group of people that tried to surprise me got their asses kicked, you know. 33. MD: Draining people of their mind force, huh? I believe the Dalimars have officially been outranked on delusions of grandeur. If this note doesn’t scream trap, I don’t know WHAT does. MD: Honestly, considering how dumbly I fall into traps... I’ll like to see the guy try to drain my brain and see what he gets out of it. 34. Is that... THE PATH TO RAVENHEARST MANOR REPLICATED INDOORS? MD: I’m both impressed, and also feeling Charles’ jealousy emitting from whereever he is sealed. Let’s just hope this guy doesn’t propose at the end too. You have all of our blessings to defenestrate him if he does. 35. Awwww he didn’t have time to finish the rest of the manor. Only got up to the gate. MD: It’s like watching someone give up half way on their ambitious project. HEY GUY, AT LEAST ALISTER AND CHARLES FINISHED THEIR PROJECTS. DID YOU? Archivist: Did they build traps like these? *Trap Chloe* MD: ....You are rising up my shit list with record speed and that doesn’t happen often. ALSO CHLOE SERIOUSLY! 36. Archivist: Too bad for your companion, she paid the price. MD: ...I KNEW I should have kept some of that nitroglycerin! Oh hey look he even has a cable car ride for you! Don’t think we’ve seen that since Return or Escape from Ravenhearst? Archivist: If you want to get to the end of the ride, take a seat, NOW. MD: Oh I’ll seat, but only because I WANT TO. Also, your chair aren’t even replicas. 37. MD: Okay the box now... let’s open it-- Oh come ON! IT’S WHACK-A-TROLL!!!!!!! 8D MD: *Smash emergency exit button* Now ladies and gentlemen, please exit the ride into the next insane area. We hope you’ve enjoy the trip BECAUSE I SURE HAVE NOT-- Really? AN AMUSEMENT PARK NEXT? You did say you weren’t having fun... 38. Aiden: HEEEEEELP! MD: ...as much as I feel sorry for the old guy, I’m also glad I’m not the one stuck in that rocket ride... 40. Oh hey, it’s whack-a... detective. AND IT’S MORE FRUSTRATING THAN WHACK-A-TROLL. REALLY EIPEX? REALLY??? MD: ...Can’t believe this, but now, I miss Whack-a-troll. 41. Archivist: Can’t believe you made it this far without realizing I was one of the missing people? MD: ... Actually... Me: That makes sense, like, I was expecting it, honestly. There WERE four missing posters and we only found three. I was wondering WHEN that was going to come up. MD: See, some of the players don’t go through 19 cases and NOT develop SOME sense of paranoia that you’re going to be betrayed. 42. Archivist: Why don’t you step through the door to claim your prize? Me: How about, no? MD: No here as well. Aiden: Also no here. LET ME GO THROUGH INSTEAD! Archivist: WAIT NO THAT’S NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO GO-- Me: ...Aaaand we’re out of the illusion. I KNEW IT! WHEN EVERYTHING WENT MISTY I KNEW SOMETHING WENT WRONG! MD: Okay, instead of celebrating you seeing this coming HOW ABOUT YOU GET ME OUT OF THIS CONTRAPTION THANK YOU. 43. Hey, you got your badge back. MD: I know. And it’s stabby. MD: I KNOW. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? MD: IT’S VANDALISM TIME! 44. Chloe: Hello? Anyone there? Blake: Um, same here? Aiden: AHA! Knew there was something fishy. MD: Okay, since we’re all awake, let’s do what we Master Detectives are great at doing. MDs: solving freakishly complicated puzzle panels. *sighs collectively* 45. Archivist: TOO MUCH BRAIN POWER! NOOOOO *Poofs* MD: THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR PLAYING GAMES WITH US-- Um, who, is, that? Basically everyone who remembers the sole survivor of the Dalimars: CHARLOTTE! [To be continue!]

[http-lostforever]

Silenced- 1

Pairing: OT7 x reader

Summary:Y/n was an average girl, passing the police academy with a passing score and no overly special talents, she was matched with a sarcastic, moody, cigarette-smoking detective as a partner. Not only was he already a handful, but the forensic scientist that was assigned to Team 4--as they called themselves--had made it clear that he was interested in Y/n. With those two constantly bickering and the tragic event of a new unsolved case thrown in their laps, how will they feel when their worlds are turned upside down with the entry of a new officer and a case that was way over their heads?

Warnings:Blood, Gore, smoking, cursing, cliche?

Ducking underneath the iridescent yellow tape lining the edges of the scene to keep any onlookers out, I followed his footsteps as they interrupted the blood mixed puddle upon the hard cement. Red and blue siren lights of our car flickered in the corner of my eye, giving too strong of a stimulus for my brain to focus on the situation at hand. Resting my eyes upon the changing hues of light, my mind wanted to drift into a rain lulled stupor, each droplet hitting the shell of my umbrella was hypnotizing enough as it is.

A smoke laced cough caught my attention, whipping my head back around to look at my partner in worry and confusion. He had caught on to my hesitant steps, more like exhausted as it was 5:37 am, but with furrowed brows and a white burning cigarette placed between his lips he jerked his head to the side, motioning for me to follow and get this over with. With a hefty sigh and a quick glance at the tumbling, grey sky through my clear umbrella, my eyes ghosted over each raindrop that hit upon the plastic.

Taking a quick step to match his we began walking past the mass of response unit cars, as we detectives are the last to be called on scene. A stout man ran up, shoving himself between my partner and I, and earned a grim look of annoyance from the taller man.

"So what have we got?" He grunted, smoke billowing from his lips in a small stream as he blew out the deadly toxin. From the corner of my eye I could see him rest his arm upon the shorter mans head, a clear display of disrespect but he could care less. Looking down at the officer we arrived just outside the actual crime scene, the faint smell of blood now becoming stronger, more potent within the rain filled air as a wave of bile begged to rise from my stomach and burn the inner of my throat.

" Melody Smith, 22 years old, 26 lacerations to the torso and neck area. She was DOA and there hasn't been any friends or family to show up as of yet."

" She was stabbed 26 times? Doesn't that seem like a little bit overkill, and why hasn't anyone covered her with a tarp yet? Don't these guys know that at this point all the evidence is just being washed down the drain?".

A young girl laid on her back, limbs splayed out unevenly as her head twisted to the side, an angle that confirmed the female was certainly dead, her wide eyes staring directly into the dark clouds above. All signs of life had left them, at this point she was just a corpse waiting to be put into the ground, a being that once was as alive as me but now left as an abandon shell waiting to rot in the open.

Her shoulder length brown hair that had once been in--what I would guess to be a messy bun--was now matted with her own blood, parts torn out as a clear indicator of fighting for survival. She wore a heavy sweatshirt, embroidered on the front was what I could only guess was a university's motto. A gruesome display of how unsafe the public truly was to the wicked evil that lurked the earth. Well that would explain the copious amounts of blood that were pooled all around her body when we arrived, but thanks to the rain my shoes would be safe another day.

"So who found her?"

Taehyung nods his head in the direction of a blonde haired women sobbing hysterically while hoards of people around attempt to comfort her.

"Ohhh..so that's where the dying cat sound was coming from earlier." A scoff of laughter escaped my lips from my own joke.

Tae shakes his head in disappointment before pivoting on his heels and heading over in the direction of the damsel in distress. Although not nearly fast enough for me not to see the corners of his mouth curve ever so slightly upwards. If there's one things that Tae and I share, it's the ability to make light of whatever dark and morbid situation that we've gotten ourselves into that day.

After all the losses there was no more sentimentality for the dead. It was easier if you didn't think of them as people at all. Indeed, our senses of humor became warped and darkly macabre. We laughed at their silly expressions and gave them rude names.There is only so much horror you can take in and understand, after that your mind will snap. So we joke.

I decide to do a once over of the body to see if there's anything that the crime scene analysis guys might have missed just to prolong the inevitable drama that I'm about to step into, but ultimately I end up heading in the direction of Tae and our devastated jogger. Upon getting closer, I can see that she's much younger than I initially expected. She had long blonde hair swept up into a tight ponytail, one that made my own head ache after looking at it for too long. She wore a matching set of leggings and sports bra that were a soft shade of pink with small gold flowers embroidered all over it.

I had to admit that it really complemented the dark hue of her bronzed summer skin and made me question the last time that I had hit the treadmill after looking at her toned abs. She had deep blue eyes and plump pink lips that reminded me of those little sea shells that you find when you walk the beach early in the morning but ended up getting washed away if you didn't grab them fast enough. I couldn't help but wonder how I looked compared to her since my morning routine that day consisted of just barely remembering to jump in the shower and throw my uniform on.

I also noticed that her already long eyelashes were coated in a layer of mascara and her lips were also supporting a clear gloss as well. I never really could understand the point of wearing makeup to work out since you were just going to sweat it off anyways, but to each their own.

Little to no surprise she was no longer crying, all thanks to Taes "charm". The girl that once was having screaming fits of nearly tripping over a dead body now acted as if she had no recollection of what had happened and was solely focused on trying to stealthily push her cleavage a little bit higher into Tae's line of sight.

I wouldn't blame her though. Tae was a pretty good looking guy according to all the other girls on the surrounding teams at the office. He stood around 5'10 and had pretty large shoulders for a guy who spent most of his time sitting at a desk chair or driving a patrol car to observe crime scenes. Muscular in the kind of way that you can tell when they work out but not anything that says that I'm desperate and my muscles are the only things that gives me confidence. He had dark hair that looked like it was almost in need of a haircut since it slightly hung in his eyes but you could also say that it gave him a casual boyish charm that made him comfortable to talk to.

His eyes were dark brown and almost completely unreadable if not for the millions of facial expressions that he's given me the pleasure of seeing. That was his dead give away. Most people at work think that he's a moody officer but if only they saw the endless faces that were shot my way throughout the day. I look Tae's direction to see if he's being lured into her act and hoping to find something to tease him about later, but unfortunately if he does find her attractive then he's good at hiding it.

"So can you give us a rundown of what happened today?" Tae asks while leaning in and placing a hand on the girls shoulder. As soon as this happens she breaks down into tears again and takes his comforting as a chance to further his touch.

"Well, I got up around 4:15 am to do my daily morning jog. I came up around the park and did two laps around the northern buildings of the university before heading this way. Normally I would head back towards the park but I needed to pick up a jacket that I left at a friends place for an event that was going on later at the college. Halfway to her house I noticed a girl who was laying down on the ground. I thought that she might have also been on a run and slipped and hit her head or something, but that's when i saw all the blood......" her voice trailed off after she realized the severity of what she had stumbled upon that morning.

I looked over at Tae who was already looking in my direction. We both knew that there wouldn't be anything else to get from her in this state at the moment. So I headed in the direction of our car while Tae gave his new admirer a form and a time to stop by at the station later when she had calmed down. I looked over my shoulder to see him giving her a polite smile and a little wave goodbye before heading my direction. I got into the passenger side, the cold leather seat consuming the warmth of my body thus causing a shiver to crawl up my spine. Tae laughed lightly at my action then slipped himself into the driver's seat. For some reason we had this unspoken agreement that he would always drive and I would be the one to man any incoming calls and most importantly, the radio.

I immediately popped in the Journey CD that he had tucked away into the glove department and before you knew it he was belting out the lyrics to every song that came on. His voice was husky as it was still to early for either of us to be completely awake and functional. But nonetheless I didn't sing along like he did. Instead I just sat back and listened to his voice, the deep tones of each word struck my mind with ease as he could quickly raise the tension within seconds. His voice used to be a secret between us until he got to drunk at the rookie Christmas party and did a duet with the one of the other rookies to some song. His voice paired with his looks gets him teased a lot around the office with the common name of pretty boy and such, so he doesn't sing now unless its in the car. But it makes me happy to know that he's comfortable sharing it with me.

Looking out the window of the car it was easy to get lost in the moment as the grey clouds blanketed the sky, accompanied by the soft pattering of rain drops hitting windshield as we made our way through the city. Despite the heavy tension that hung above us, rain commonly calmed me down. Easing my feelings into a more simplified state--helping me enjoy the music with Tae and hum along quietly-- and helping me wake up more than before. My eyes ghosted across the early birds that walked along the streets, warm coffees resting in their freezing glove lined hands.

We slowly came to a stop--red light being the cause--while the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat drifted my attention from the window to Tae looking at me briefly before pressing on the gas once more.

"It's pretty cold out..."

"Mhm" I hummed glancing back at the window, then turned back around once more as he motioned for my attention.

"It's also pretty early..."

"Tae if you're trying to start small chat then let me just be the one to tell you, you're awful at it."

"Listen smart ass, I was trying to ask nicely but now you don't get a choice."

Chapter 2

[stardustreviews]

Blog All Day, Meme All Night

over a month ago, actual ray of sunshine @lynchmatthew​ tagged me in this and uhh i finally finished tweaking this blog so why not do it now!!

tagging @the-little-witches-books, @jostenne, @wylans, @pynchvinsky, and uhh anyone else who wants to!

╰☆╮1. YEET – which book would you yeet out of existence?

Highkey? A Court of Wings And Ruin. That was the book that made me realize that I just couldn’t read anymore Maas. I hated the way she wrote romance, how all her male characters were possessive, the half-hearted attempt at “representation”.

╰☆╮2. CRYING KIM K – which book gives you lots of feelings?

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust. I need to write a review for this at some point, but basically-- it’s an absolutely beautiful book, a feminist retelling of Snow White, and the mother-daughter relationship between Mina (the Wicked Queen character) and Lynet (the Snow White character) is meticulously, wonderfully crafted. I cannot recommend this book enough!

╰☆╮3. AMERICA, EXPLAIN – favourite book set outside the us?

The creator of this tag, @meriknihar​ definitely intended this to be an In-Unvierse question, so uhh,, Illuminae definitely counts, right? It takes place in our cosmos, just very far away in both time and distance. I just love how tight and unexpected the plots were, and the format they chose was so interesting

Otherwise, I’d say The Book Thief, which is set in Germany and made me cry my heart out.

╰☆╮4. RIP VINE – your saddest character death?

MAJOR ACOL SPOILERS AHEAD!!

A Darker Shade of Magic’s Holland Vosijk. V. E. Schwab created a beautiful, tragic character, and even thinking about him makes me sad again. He deserved the absolute fucking world, man.

╰☆╮5. WHAT ARE THOSE? – a book that left you confused?

Caraval by Stephanie Garber. It wasn’t that I didn’t get what was going on, but it was just too disorienting. The reader never really finds their footing in her story, and even at the end I was still not sure what was real and what was part of the performance. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like the protagonist’s agency didn’t mean anything when the rug was being pulled out from under everyone’s feet each chapter, and each twist seemed to negate the last. It was just too much.

╰☆╮6. BIG DICK ENERGY – favourite character with BDE?

It took me a while to figure this one out, but probably The Cruel Prince’s Jude Duarte. She will do whatever the fuck she can to get ahead, she refuses to be intimidated, and she’s an amazing Slytherin queen who is more than welcome to murder me if she wants.

╰☆╮7. I WON’T HESITATE BITCH – favourite book with a morally grey protagonist?

Vicious by V. E. Schwab. I read this the summer of my junior year and I fell in love with the story. She’s just,,, so good at crafting characters, and I need Vengeful now that it’s out.

╰☆╮8. MOVE, I’M GAY – favourite book featuring a lgbp+ romance?

Anyone who’s been around me for more than 2.3 seconds knows I am a weakass hoe for Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova. It’s a fun yet dark adventure novel featuring Latina witches, realistic and loving families, lots of magic, and the softest wlw couple I know. My heart belongs to Alex and Rishi.

╰☆╮9. STREET SMARTS – favourite book featuring a protagonist whose strength is their intelligence?

Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore! Bitterblue is a puzzle of a book about mysteries and healing, and unlike the warrior Katsa, the titular protagonist doesn’t have strength or survival instincts. Instead, she has a deep desire to do good, and the brains needed to get to the bottom of the wound her father left on her country. (A close second is An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson; it’s a delightful story about a painter spirited away to Fae territories, and she survives largely due to her cleverness. Plus the book has some wonderful reflections of stagnation vs progress and the price of immortality,,, would highly recommend.)

╰☆╮10. ALEXA PLAY DESPACITO – character death you were happy about?

Severus Snape from Harry Potter. I don’t care that he was on The Good Side, and I really don’t care that He Will Always Love Lily. Severus Tobias Snape is a toxic slimebag, and when he joined the Wizard Nazis and called his best friend/crush a fucking slur, got butthurt that she didn’t want to hang with him anymore. He was willing to let an innocent man and a fucking baby be brutally murdered to save Lily, and even after she clearly rejected him, refused to get over her and let it become creepy and borderline-obsessive. The whole thing where he tore a photo of the Potter family so he could have Lily’s picture and no one else’s? And where he tore off her signature too? What the fuck. Also he has the emotional maturity of a 12 year-old, taking his anger out on two innocent and already traumatized children, to the point where he was one of those children’s greatest fear that is not okay. Anyways he can choke.

╰☆╮11. THEN PERISH – a book you DNFed?

Snow Like Ashes. I didn’t get very far into it, but I remember the premise not really grabbing me, and then it was due back to the library and I didn’t really care enough to get it ever again.

☆╮12. KERMIT SIPPING TEA – a book that makes a statement?

The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness is a great one. It’s a story about being the side characters, the ones who aren’t the Chosen Ones who get sent on an epic quest against evil. They’re just people, dealing with real problems, mental health issues and conflict with friends, and Ness handles the subject with a deft sort of beauty.

The Twelve Little Cakes also qualifies, too. It’s a memoir of a woman’s childhood in a post-Stalinist USSR-era Czech Republic. Despite the depressing setting, Dery manages to write a book bursting with optimism, with belief in the goodness of people and a better world, and that persepctive is as refreshing s it necessary in this modern age.

╰☆╮13. SAME HAT – the character you relate to the most?

I had,,, a lot of trouble with this one, so I’m going to say that Lara Jean from To All the Boys Ive Loved Before really reminds me of my high school self. She daydreams a lot, loves The Aesthetic, is not very grounded in reality, Is Soft And Kinda Anxious. Sure, let’s say that.

╰☆╮14. OH WORM – a book you didn’t expect to love?

I’ll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson. I’m not normally a contemporary person, but I finished this book sobbing instead of working on a health essay. Books that have conflicts shaped like mysteries and puzzles, where personalities and situations clash in a way that looks a little bit like tragedy? Those are books are automatic favorites.

╰☆╮15. SHREK – favourite book featuring mythical creatures?

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater revolves around the capaill uisce (aka kelpies). Stiefvater is brilliant with characters and atmosphere, so even though her books are more slow-paced, I was still absolutely enchanted.

[willelbyers]

Fractures (just a crack in the glass)

Chapter 4

Summary: She has a dream—just glimpses of shadow and pinpricks of light, someone calling her name, and she strains to hear it. Then it’s gone, and when she wakes up she doesn’t remember.

Pairings: Still not sure yet. I’m figuring it out as I go along. Lots of Will & El friendship.

Notes: It follows canon up until season 2 episode 2. Then I’m doing my own thing because I want these kids to be FRIENDS

For more of my stories, here is my Ao3 profile link and here is the link to this chapter over there. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4: Eleven

November 1, 1984

It’s dark by the time she gets home—she’s disoriented, her internal compass swinging wildly, and she got lost. By the time she makes it back to the cabin, Hopper is already there, standing on the porch.

There are tears drying on her face, still, hours later, but she can’t let him know that. If she tells him about the shadow, about Will, he will be in danger, too. This is something she needs to figure out—and without Will in her head, she’ll have to do it alone.

She sighs.

He puts out his cigarette on the porch railing, and she attempts to storm past him without issue. She makes it in the door before he starts to follow her.

“‘Friends don’t lie’,” he says, clearly angry. “Isn’t that your bullshit saying?”

She keeps walking, into her room. She doesn’t want to cry—she didn’t mean to make him angry, but she knows she let him down. And she already lost Will today, already had to walk away from Mike. It’s too much.

“Hey,” he insists. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” He catches the door as she tries to swing it closed, and she stops. “Where’d you go on your little field trip, huh?” he asks as she takes her coat off. “Where? Did you go see Mike?”

Ah, yes, Mike. They’d argued a lot about him. Because really, El missed him, as much as she missed bikes and blanket forts and her other friends. But she would never break the rules, would never endanger herself or Hopper or Mike or anyone else to go see him. The shadow was more important.

But she can’t tell him that.

And, honestly? She had thought about going to see Mike. She went for Will, but she knows how much Mike cares about Will, and how much Will cares about Mike, so she knew. When she left, she knew that she might see Mike. And she did, but—

“He didn’t see me,” she says lowly. She can’t do this, not tonight. She’s not in the mood. She needs to think, needs to find the monster, find Will, find out what happened, because that empty pit in her chest is still there and she wonders if Will is feeling the same thing.

“Yeah, well, that mother and her daughter did and they called the cops,” Hopper tells her, and El feels a stab of guilt. Monster, Will, or Mike—all that aside, she did do that anyway. “Now, did anyone else see you? Anyone at all?”

She stares at him, dumbfounded, because she hadn’t thought about all of that when she left. Hadn’t thought about how she might have put herself and Hopper in danger. She doesn’t say anything.

“Come on, I need you to think!” he says, louder, and it’s the cold edge to his voice that snaps her out of her stupor.

“Nobody saw me!” she snarls back, because he has no idea what she’s going through to protect him, to protect everyone, and after the day she’s had she doesn’t need someone to yell at her, too.

“You put us in danger. You realize that, right?” Hopper tells her, low and frustrated, and she knows. She knows! But she didn’t do it to see her friend for no reason, that would have been stupid, and she knows she’s not. She did it to help. But she can’t articulate that, she can’t say what she wants to make him understand.

“You promised I go!” she retorts instead, because he did, because he said almost a year ago that he would get her outside as soon as he could. “And I never leave! Nothing ever happens!” And all she does is watch TV and sleep and talk to Will five times total and now he’s gone and he’s in danger and she’s going to be shut in here forever, and she can’t.

“Yeah, nothing happens and you stay safe!” he says, and that’s when El realizes that this whole thing is useless, because he won’t understand. He won’t understand because she’s been in danger this whole goddamn time but she can’t tell him that because as mad as they both are right now, she never wants anything evil to hurt him.

She shakes her head, holding back tears. There’s too much. “You promise,” she says, quietly. “And you lie.” And this is true, either way—if she could just leave, if she could just go talk to Will, then maybe he wouldn’t have been covered in darkness. She wouldn’t have to be afraid to see Mike, or Lucas, or Dustin. She could just go.

“I don’t lie,” he replies, quieting to match her. “I protect and I feed and I teach. And all I ask of you is that you follow three simple rules. Three rules. And you know what? You broke all of them today.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re grounded. That means no TV for a week.”

“No,” she chokes out after a second, and her feet feel glued to the floor. Because that’s how she’s been seeing people, that’s how she can find things. That’s how she listens to Mike almost every night. And if Will isn’t in her head anymore, that might be the only way she can find him. He can’t take that from her.

“You have got to understand that there are consequences for your actions,” Hopper says, and for the first time all night El finds sympathy on his face—he must have seen the hopelessness on hers.

El doesn’t even know where her next words come from—they just spill from her mouth like her brain had made the connection and decided to hurt both her and Hopper. “That’s what Papa always said to me.”

That seems to hit a nerve, because Hopper’s face twitches. “Don’t—” He stops, taking a breath. “Don’t compare me to that psychotic son of a bitch.” He shakes his head. “If you ever want to go out into the world, you need to grow the hell up.”

She doesn’t want to be mad at him, but he makes it so hard. She doesn’t want a fight. So she points at the door. “Please.”

He does, and as soon as she’s out she flings her hand around and the door slams shut as she sinks to the floor with her head in her hands. She hears a single window shatter as her hands tremble, and she instinctively knows that she broke it. Sorry.

No TV? Fine. She’s just going to wait until tomorrow and use the radio.

She has a dream—just glimpses of shadow and pinpricks of light, someone calling her name, and she strains to hear it. Then it’s gone, and when she wakes up she doesn’t remember.

November 2, 1984

She watches Hopper board up that single broken window through her slightly-open door, but as soon as he finishes and turns she closes it.

“Hey, kid?” she hears him say from the other side of the door. He sighs. “Listen, um… about last night, I, uh…  I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

It’s not quite an apology, but it’s something.

He coughs, and his voice toughens again. “Still no TV, though. You hear me? Honor code.”

“No TV,” she repeats, and then he’s gone.

She flicks the radio on and closes her eyes, searching for Will. She thinks of his distinct brainwaves, focuses on the memory of his eyes. She remembers those.

A splash indicates that she’s arrived, and when she opens her eyes, there he is. But something’s wrong. He’s on the ground, arms at his sides, eyes closed.

“Will,” she says as she drops to he knees beside him. His name echoes hollowly in the open space. She gingerly touches his hand and fights the urge to flinch back—he’s cold and stiff as a board. “Will?”

All at once, his eyes fly open and his hand moves, and El feels something push her back. The air is punched out of her lungs as she hits the ground.

“Eleven,” Will says absently, not looking at her.

“Will, hey,” she gasps as she trips to her feet, stumbling over to Will. When she does, she almost wishes she hadn’t, because his eyes are cloudy and black.

“You can’t stop this,” Will—no, not Will, the monster—says. “You can’t stop us.”

“Where is Will?” she demands, staring down this creature. “What did you do to him?”

Will’s face twists. “He’s here. He’s strong. But I’ll win. We won’t be defeated.”

“El!” a distant voice yells, and she turns to see the person but there’s no one else there. “El, I’m here! Help!” Will.

She whirls on the monster. “Where is he?”

It snarls. “Everywhere. Nowhere. This is the place where your minds meet, after all.”

El gapes, because it dawns on her, then, what this means. “You did this. You are why I can’t… why I can’t feel him anymore.”

It smirks at her. “He broke the barrier. I’m in his head; I can keep you out. There’s no one who can help you.”

El balls her hands into fists. “Leave. Him. Alone!” She yells the last word and the scene dissolves, Will’s body turning to black smoke. And suddenly there’s a woman, old, in a chair, eyes closed. El hopes her eyes don’t open and turn black, too. She’s saying things.

“Three to the right. Four to the left. Sunflower. Rainbow. Four-fifty. Breathe.” Then her eyes open, and there’s an audible gasp of relief El feels when she sees that the woman’s eyes are a normal, human brown. They fix on her, and then the woman says a name: “Jane.”

It’s a foreign name, one that settles uncomfortably over El’s skin like an itchy sweater, but nevertheless it sends a flash of images across her mind, memories—memories that aren’t hers.

There’s screaming, and a baby, and—and his face. Papa’s face. Three to the right. Four to the left. A safe opens, a gun comes out. The woman walks to the lab. There’s a shot. A man goes down. She’s walking through the halls. “Jane? Jane?” Whose name is that? Why doesn’t she know it? There’s a rainbow on the wall. A girl on the ground. No, two girls. They look familiar. The woman reaches out to the smaller one. Then she’s pulled away. She’s being tied down. There he is. “Four-fifty,” he says, another man looks at him, turns a knob, and the woman screams. There are sunflowers on the table. “Breathe,” another woman says. Then it repeats, over and over and over again. The girl’s face—not little El’s, little Jane’s, the other one. Again. And again. And again.

Then her brain reaches overload and she forces her eyes open, blood dripping down her face, numb. She lets herself rest for a moment, slumping against the base of Hopper’s couch.

“Jane,” she mumbles, testing the name. My name? It feels awkward and heavy on her tongue, so different from when Mike gave her El.

And the woman… is that her Mama? That feels right, but it’s so strange. El doesn’t know her. That woman doesn’t know El, doesn’t know anything anymore. She lost her mind right there on that table.

She can’t focus on that. Who is the girl? The little girl with the dark hair she saw in the memory. She feels important. Maybe she can help. And something’s not right with this whole thing, but Will’s in trouble and El can’t save him by herself. So, as terrible as the idea is, she closes her eyes again and focuses on the girl’s face. Vivid eyes—so different from Will’s, whose eyes are light and green and thoughtful. Her eyes are dark brown and stormy, serious. But they are unique, so El thinks about that.

“—so we need to try a different approach,” a voice says, and El opens her eyes.

The girl is there, grown up like El, and she’s pacing. Her hair is purple and she’s wearing black, and she’s gesturing with her hands like she’s talking to someone. Her words have an odd lilt to them—she doesn’t talk quite the same as El.

“If we keep doing what we’ve been doing they’re gonna catch us. We can’t leave Chicago yet, there’s nowhere better to go and the trail’s gone cold. But we need to find more money.”

Chicago, El notes. That sounds like either a person or a place. That’s good. That’s a start.

“Wait,” the girl says suddenly, holding a hand out. She makes a face at someone El can’t see. “Don’t ‘oh, Kali,’ me! There’s someone listening.”

And that sounds like her cue to leave. El wrenches herself back into the present, but not before she sees 008 printed on the girl’s arm. Kali. She rolls the name around in her head—she knows, somehow, that 008’s name is Kali. It suits her. And she might help.

So that’s that. El’s going to Chicago.

Reviews are, as always appreciated! Let me know what you think, and I’ll try to update soon with Will’s chapter!

~Logan

[magically-strange]

Costumed Craving...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Bog gaped in shock at the docile woman before him.  His brain was buzzing like stirred bees, struggling to make sense of her words.

“What are ye talkin’ about?!”  He managed to say in a strained voice.  He’d never told her about his...ailments.  He hated telling people about his troubles.

“Come on, Bog, you’re not stupid.”  Marianne replied, shifting forward in her seat.  “Surely you have some suspicions about me by now?”

The way she was watching him made Bog feel like a buck before the gun.  She wasn’t fucking around.  He didn’t want to believe it.  He couldn’t believe it.  But this was no dream.  

This was a nightmare in the waking world.  Every strange situation and insane doubt in his head that he’d been suppressing since they’d met came thrashing to the surface.

No.  

No, not you.  

NOT YOU!!!

Shooting up from the couch, Bog backed away from the brunette as if she were a bomb.

“No…no, that’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry, Bog, but you’re wrong.”

Slowly, Marianne rose to her feet as well, and steadily advanced on the trembling man, her unsettlingly placid demeanor making his pulse rate skyrocket.    

“It’s not just possible, it’s real.”

Choked by the sudden terror of every horror movie he’d ever seen coming true, Bog spun on his heel and flew at the door, only to find it locked.

“Bog.”  Marianne said calmly as his shaking fingers repeatedly slipped on the dead bolt.  

Once he clumsily managed to turn it, he almost let out a cry of dismay at the door’s stubborn refusal to open.

Fucking privacy knob!

Frantic, he yanked on the handle, savagely rattling the wood.

“Bog, don’t do that.”

She was getting closer!

One last panicked jerk, and the frame splintered, freeing the damn latch and twisting the top hinges from the wall.  The evidence of his inhuman strength only spiked Bog’s fear as he rushed past the ruined door and down the stairs.  

“Bog, wait!”

Refusing to listen, Bog bolted across the dark, empty gym, still managing to see a clear path despite the deep shadows.  He saw his chance of escape in a single door beyond the sparring ring.  

“Bog!”

Marianne’s footsteps followed steadily behind him, as he reached the unfortunately locked door, only to realize with sharp alarm that unlike the previous, this one was metal…and with two an interior key locks.

SHIT!

“Bog?”

There was no more time to run, so Bog helplessly battered the unyielding door with his fists, barely managing to leave a pair of dents before he heard Marianne approach him from behind.

“Bog, I just-!”

In a desperate move, Bog noticed a coat rack beside him, and seized his makeshift weapon.

“Get back!”  He shouted, pointing the tip of a large umbrella at Marianne’s neck.  “Stay the fuck away from me!   I mean it!”

For several, silent beats, Marianne just stood stock still with a look of surprise and even hurt in her eyes…

…until she gave Bog the most furious scowl he’d ever seen.

In the breath of a second, she side-stepped him, snatched the end of the umbrella, and pulled hard, causing Bog to stumble forward and lose his grip on the handle.  It clattered to the floor as Marianne then grabbed him by the back of the neck and his right arm.  With unimaginable strength, she marched him away from the door like an angry mother would an unruly child, and when they reached the ring, she suddenly released his neck, swept her left hand under his chest, and shoved upwards, hurling him into the air.

Bog’s six foot seven, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound body flipped clear over the raised platform and ropes.  He landed flat on his back in the ring, sprawled and dazed, but unharmed, save for the wind knocked out of his lungs.

Marianne then came somersaulting after him like Catwoman.  Her feet slammed down on either side of Bog’s head, freezing him in place as she squatted to snarl in his face:

“Listen here, jackass! If I wanted to hurt you, I coulda snapped you like the overgrown twig you are weeks ago!  But I didn’t! So, obviously I don’t wanna hurt you, and I’m not going to!  Now you get a hold of yourself, goddammit!  You hear me?!”

Funny, most people would’ve likely shit their pants after getting such an explosive reaction from a person they perceived as a threat…

…but Bog, oddly enough…

…had the opposite reaction.  He was still afraid, alright; but the passive and contrite Marianne freaked him out, because it was so unlike her, and it scared him more so.  Yet, the shouty, boxing trainer with that don’t-take-crap-from-anyone attitude and backbone of tempered steel?  Now that was familiar.  That was his Tough Girl; the woman he fell in love with.    

“I-I-I hear ye.”

“Good.”  

Moving off of him, Marianne stomped away to sit cross-legged in the center of the ring, resting her elbows on her knees with a pensive frown.  Carefully, Bog sat up and focused on calming himself.

She was right; she hadn’t hurt him.  Yes, she was upset, but she was still the Marianne he knew; she’d proven that, by God.  

He could at least hear her out.  

“…”

“…”

“Overgrown twig?”

“Oh, don’t act like it’s not fitting.”  She returned with a pointed glace, veiled with dry humor.  “You’re gonna pay for a new office door, you know.”

Bog drew up his legs and crossed his arms over them.  

“Not ‘til ye tell me the whole truth first, I worn’t.  Start talkin’.”

Marianne started at Bog for a moment, twisting her lips in consideration before sighing and giving her attention to the restless fingers in her lap.

“Why don’t you ask me…specific questions instead, and I’ll try to answer them as best I can.  I think if I try to explain everything in one go, it’ll just stress you out even more.”

Bog swallowed, but pressed on.

“Fine, who are ye?”

“Marianne Springwood.”

He huffed in exasperation at her sass.

“What are ye?”

“…It……depends on what culture or time period you’re referencing, but…basically, I’m……I’m part of a race of…superhuman beings that……feed off of mankind.”

“So, yer what? A…s-some kinda v-v-va-vampire?”

Marianne rolled her eyes with a breathy snicker.

“Not in the way you’re probably thinking.  All that Bram Stoker, garlic, crucifix, ‘I vant to suck your blahd’, Hollywood crap.  We may have inspired all that, but fact is still very different from fiction.”

“How so?”

“Bog, how familiar are you with Jewish mythology?”

Bog blinked in brief confusion.

“Um…well, I was raised Catholic, but my mom’s non-practicin’.”

“Ever heard of the demon, Lilith?”

“…Vaguely.”  Bog said before tensing.  “Are ye sayin’ yer a-?!”  

“No.  Trust me, if I were, you’d be dead.  We’re generally known as Lilin, or, the children of Lilith, but many of us don’t appreciate the whole ‘demon association’ thing if it’s not meant as a joke.”

“Does that mean yer not evil?”

Marianne winced, but covered it by giving Bog a sultry grin.

“Well, I, personally, can be very naughty, as you know….”

Gulping, Bog squirmed to readjust his position, suddenly feeling extra vulnerable in his boxers as Marianne went on in a more serious tone.

“…but we’re sentient beings with free will, Bog.  We can strive to be good, or we can choose to be evil.  We have the same emotions you humans do, and it’s up to the individual on how to use them.”

Nodding in hesitant understanding, Bog took a minute to absorb the information thus far.

“Lilin.” He whispered to himself, testing the word like a new flavor.

“Yes,” Marianne continued, “but there’s an even more common term.  My sister and I prefer to be called ‘succubus’.”

Bog’s mouth fell open.

“Yer sister?”

“That’s right.  And Sunny and my dad are ‘incubus’, since they’re males.”

The thirty-one-year-old sound editor could hardly believe what he was hearing.  Her whole family?  Even Dawn? That bubbly, blonde Barbie doll he’d met the other week?  They were all…?

“Succubus an’ incubus. Aren’t those the things that are supposed to come into yer room at night an’ have…s-s-sex with ye?”

It was Marianne’s turn to be embarrassed.  Awkwardly, she scratched behind her ear.

“Erm…yes and no.  We don’t have to do that; sex, or more specifically, kissing, just gives us the best opportunity to feed, but it’s not essential.  For those of us that are born Lilin, the craving doesn’t appear until puberty, so it’s nice to have an alternative to a bunch of promiscuous preteens running around, you know?  Even we frown upon underage, unprotected sex. But we’re masters of stealth, so we can usually just sneak in at night, take what we need, and that’s it.”

Regardless, Bog looked queasy.

“W-when ye said ye fee-feed off mankind…”

“Don’t worry, Bog.   Lilin live off human energy, not blood.”

“How is that better?”

“It’s less messy, for one.  And it’s safer for our prey, ‘cause it only takes two or three draws to satisfy us.”

“Draws?”

“We…steal their breath, in a sense; inhale the energy into ourselves from their mouths.  That’s how we feed.  If we take exactly what we need, the human just falls or stays asleep.”

“An’ if ye take more than exactly what ye need?”

Marianne paused, and the room seemed to drop ten degrees.  Her expression darkened with gloom, but Bog’s anxious eyes held her fast until she stammered a skirting response.

“I-it’s not like the books and movies, Bog.  You don’t lo-lose control like it’s an undeniable urge or anything.”

“Answer the question.”

“There are no a-accidents. If a Lilin draws more, th-then they mean to do-”

“MARIANNE!”  

The echo of Bog’s frustrated demand bounced off the walls of the gym, and Marianne cringed, but confessed.

“Then…they can lose consciousness…”

“…”

“…slip into a coma…”

“…”

”...and die.”  

.

.

.

Bog’s spine was overrun with chills and his throat was sandpaper, but he had to know.  Setting his jaw, he spoke again in a quiet, but firm tone.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Last Straw, 4

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and Blueshifted, who take time from their busy lives to help with my hobby.

Not much to say here! I know this story is pretty rushed and not as good as my previous works, but this was more of a self-imposed challenge than something I put my heart and soul into. We'll be back on track on the next big story. For now, the end is getting close!

Summary: With another golden deadline approaching, Minnie finally learns the truth about her missing memories. But can she remember a way to put an end to the king's tyranny?

Donald slowly put his hand on the doorknob, intending to close it, but he had half a mind to pick up his sister and see how far he could run away with her before the guards would capture them. As he mentally calculated the distance a success would require, Minnie spoke shakily, trying to politely curtsy. “Your Highness, it is an... honor... to see you again so soon.”

“Of course it is!” Mortimer sat down on one of the short stacks of hay, crossing one leg across his lap. “You didn't think I'd abandon my favorite pair of siblings, did you? Especially not because of one or two little slips of the tongue.”

Donald glanced at Pete, who merely nodded and waved once to show that, yes, Pete had not only heard what happened but as obligated by duty, had told the king. As much as the duck wanted to be mad at him, he knew if Mortimer found out another way, Pete would have suffered for it. With a huff, he stepped in front of his sister, ready to shield her. “Look, what happened in the village was my doing! Minnie was the one who put a stop to it! Stop going after her just because I'm the one who keeps screwing up!”

Minnie tugged on Donald's arm in a futile effort to stop him, and Mortimer let out a little laugh. “I'm willing to let bygones be bygones! I don't know where you get this impression that I'm a cold-hearted tyrant. Why, I'm just like my old man, and everyone loved my old man. Now there was a good member of the family...I gotta admit, I feel sorry for your sister, being burdened with such a loud-mouthed brother.” His eyes burned into Minnie's, daring her to object, daring her to shout, daring for her to give him a reason to punish her. “Why, if I was in your pretty shoes, I'd ditch him the first chance I got and forget I ever had a brother in the first place.” He smiled, clapping his hands together, waiting for the outburst.

And oh, she did want to object, she did want to shout, but she wasn't as naive a girl as Mortimer expected. She sucked in a big gulp of air, keeping her back straight. “But you're not me, Your Highness, and I'm not you. So you can see things I can't, and in the exact same way, I see things you can't. It's all a matter of perspective. And I don't think someone as important as yourself could spare the time to see how wonderfully kind my brother is.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see Donald trying to smile, but given the daunting task once again before them it couldn't stay. “What with you being so busy in the castle, you'd never see how he helps not only all the animals of the kingdom, but all the people as well, because he never turns down a cry for help. If someone needs him, he will always be there. And I truly hope someday that, if fortune should ever disfavor you, and you also need his hand, he will be there to lend it.”

Mortimer's smirk melted into a scowl, his fingers tapping along his leg. What a clever little busybody. Nothing she said could really be marked as offensive, although it made him want to gag. Sibling love – what a crock! In the end, all you ever truly cared about was yourself, and Mortimer found an itching drive to prove it. But that wasn't what he came here for, so he steeled himself. “I'm sure that day won't be for a long, long, long while. So let's focus on the day that's here!” He patted the straw underneath him. “I know neither of you are as stupid as you look, so you must know why I brought all this over. This should be no trouble at all for the master seamstress!”

Donald crossed his arms, glaring hotly. “How could you have used up all the gold we already gave you? It hasn't even been an entire day! You only got it this morning! You should be set for life!”

Mortimer clicked his tongue to his large front teeth. “You never do see the big picture, do you, Donny-boy? Why settle for a measly couple of gold bars, when I can have a whole house full of gold! I can be set for sixteen lifetimes! With this much gold, I could cover every single thing in the castle with gold!” The idea was enough to make him drool. “Gold bedrooms, gold libraries, gold silverware, gold toilets!”

As Minnie fought off that disturbing mental image, she spoke up again, struggling to once more find a positive outlook on a dark situation. “And if you had that much gold, you wouldn't need to tax the people so harshly anymore! Things could start going back to the way they used to, and no one would have to choose between their food and their health again!”

The King stared at Minnie as if she'd started talking about a completely random topic. “What does that have to do with anything? Why on earth would I stop taxing my people?”

She balked. “Because...because you wouldn't need the money anymore?”

“I need whatever I tell you I need!” Mortimer began to stand up, towering tall above the siblings. “Everything in this kingdom belongs to me, and if I want it, then I will get it! If I want everyone's money, then I'll get everyone's money! If I want you to turn all of this straw into gold, then that's what's going to happen! If I want you to adore me, then you're all going to adore me, way more than you ever adored my father!”

“You are nothing like your father, and everyone is suffering for it!” Donald stopped after he said it, but then he decided, what the hey, he was already doomed anyway. What was a few more inches going to matter in his grave? Minnie was shouting his name, but Donald kept going. “You can take our money, you can take away our lives, but I swear to you right here and now, no one is ever going to adore you! And if you had a single working brain cell working in that head of yours, you'd realize why!” In an instant he had a fistful of Mortimer's cravat and yanked him down until they were eye-level, causing Minnie to gasp, backing up until her back hit the door, and Pete to reach out yet do nothing. “I don't love Minnie because she's related to me. Blood and titles don't automatically mean people have to love and respect you! It's actions that make you earn both! She's a good, kind, sweet girl that cares about everyone around her, and she always gives me a second chance after I screw up! And that's why I love her! But you... you're just a spoiled brat, throwing a temper tantrum whenever things don't go your way! You're not a king, you're a baby with a crown!”

For the first time in Donald's life, he saw Mortimer lose the cocky, evil look in his eyes – it was replaced with fear. Pete had yet to protect him, the guards were outside, and Donald was in control here. Donald's heart raced as he realized he had an opportunity – except he didn't know what the opportunity was for. If he well and truly socked the King, which he badly wanted to do, what would follow next? Minnie's logic was still true, there was no one to take Mortimer's place. Yet how could he pass this rare chance by? Maybe one good punch would make the lesson sink in harder. Donald's free hand balled up.

“And maybe your 'old man' wasn't so fantastic either, if he could raise such an awful prince! The last good thing he ever did was realize his mistake and give the throne to-”

Then came the headache, slamming so hard into Donald's brain that he cried out in pain, unable to remember the last thing he'd been about to make. Even stranger, he wasn't the only one instantly afflicted. Minnie, Mortimer, and Pete all felt a similar dagger thrust into their minds, powerful enough to send them to their knees and drench them in sweat. Donald was forced to release Mortimer, the nerves in his forehead pulsating with torment, robbing him of the strength in his hands. Mortimer stumbled to the floor, and Pete had to lean on a stack of hay to catch his breath. Minnie managed to recover first, or at least swim through the pain enough to try and hold her brother up. “Donald!” He couldn't reply.

Mortimer shakily stood up, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. He didn't know if that was divine intervention or his luck was turning around, but he wasn't going to waste a second longer trying to figure it out. “It's...it's the same deal as before! Either this is all gold when I return, or your lives will continue in the dungeon...” A harsh snarl towards Minnie. “Or in my arms!”

“W-wait a minute!” Of all people, it was Pete who was now speaking up, trying to reach a hand towards the King. “Didn't you just see what happened?! What was that? What's going on?”

“Who cares?! We're going!” Mortimer kicked over a bale of straw. Minnie managed to pull her brother away from the door.

“But that wasn't a coincidence!” Pete pleaded, trying to follow Mortimer without tripping over any straw. “I've been getting headaches a lot lately, but if everyone's getting them, that can't be anything good! W-what if it's some kinda disease? What if we're all sick? We gotta get a doctor!”

“I'm sick of your yammering!” Mortimer grabbed Pete by his fleshy cheek, squeezing tightly. “If I say we're going, we're going! Unless you'd like to stay and share their fate!” He pulled Pete in close, snarling so rabidly that spare spittle was being sprinkled on Pete's face. “So there's your choice, fatso! Stay, or go?”

Pete was surprised to find himself hesitating. Staying with Mortimer meant he could keep his job and – what else was there? No respect or dignity, that was for sure, and now no health? Would life in the dungeon be that much worse? His eyes fled to Minnie and Donald. Donald was still recovering, a hand to his head, but Minnie was watching Pete with sad pity. That hurt worst of all - surely she knew about Pete's bullying towards Donald, but she felt sorry for him? He felt a desperate, useless need to restore some pride. “I-I'm going, sir...You wouldn't catch me dead with these...losers.” He couldn't even come up with a decent insult anymore.

Mortimer let go of Pete's cheek and gave it a pat. “The first smart decision you've ever made.” He opened the door, casting one final look upon the duo.

Minnie eyes slowly slid over to Mortimer. Much to his frustration, those gorgeous eyes didn't have any terror to them like they did before. This was defiance – defiance like that one time - “I don't think you even know what love is,” she spoke softly, jarring him out of his thoughts.

Mortimer froze, his jaw set. Words wouldn't come to him, and he finally stormed off, slamming the door into Pete's face. Pete bounced back, rubbing his sore nose before opening the door a second time. All he could offer was a glum, “Does anybody?” before joining his master.

No, Minnie wasn't afraid. Worried, yes, but fear wasn't going to take over tonight. Though her memories of the mysterious magician were vanishing with each coming hour, she knew he vowed to return should she ever need his help again. The worry was over her brother – he still wasn't recovering from the headache, even though everyone else had gotten over it. She shook his shoulder. “Donald?”

“S-something's... wrong...” Donald choked out before falling forward, his hands almost missing the floor. The headache hadn't left, and now it was taking over his body, his eyelids twitching and his chest heaving.

“Donald!” Minnie cried again, trying to hold her brother up. “The doctor, we've got to get the doctor!”

“Guards... won't...” Donald managed to breathe out, but even with his small words, Minnie knew what he meant – the guardsmen wouldn't let the two out of the house, just as the night before. He tried to say something else, but his head lobbed forward, and Minnie felt tears in her eyes. Maybe if she begged hard enough, the magic man would cure him – oh, now she felt fear, now it came as Pete's words returned to her. Yes, this wasn't natural, there was something dreadfully wrong with their bodies and they didn't know what to do.

But fear wasn't going to get anything done. Minnie drew deep, long breaths, using all the strength in her tiny body to help Donald to his room and lay on his bed – with all the straw clogging up the house, this task was made twice as difficult, and by the time Donald was laying down, Minnie was completely worn out. Her own bedroom was blocked off by straw entirely, so she couldn't give him her blanket and instead made due by covering him with his own jacket. She tried to wipe off his sweat, but every time she thought she'd gotten it all, his body would wrack with pain again and he'd be slick with sweat. Minnie could no longer fight her tears, seeing her brother suffer and being unable to help.

She managed to pull herself away from his bedroom, and stood near the front door, where there was at least enough room to pace and fret. “Please...” she spoke to the open air. “Please come back! We need your help! I'll do anything, just, please, don't let me lose my brother!” She yelled at the top of her lungs, pleading for the hero to appear, hot tears flooding down her face. “Why are things turning out this way?! Isn't there anything I can do?! Isn't there...” Her voice broke, and she cried into her hands. “Isn't there anything I can do...?”

Minnie would have sobbed deep into the night, had not a warm hand touched her cheek, a thumb brushing away her tears. Startled, she looked up, and there stood the magician, his blue eyes sad and heartbroken. She didn't know how he got in and didn't care. She threw herself into his arms, crying into his chest, and his gentle embrace held her with all the love in the world. It hurt to see him, and at the same time it was the sweetest relief. “M-My brother...” She gasped for air. “You... you have to help him!”

“I'm sorry,” he spoke with great unwillingness, “But...I can't. There's nothing I can do for him.”

Minnie pulled back, her face covered in shock. “What?! But...please, you have to!” She grabbed his arms and tried to shake him. “Use your magic! You said I have to pay you a kindness...I'll pay you a thousand kindnesses! Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it!”

The magician cupped her cheeks. “I also said that magic isn't the solution to everything...” He then frowned, looking away for a moment. “At least, I think that's what I said. It's getting harder to...” He shook his head, getting back to the scene. “There are some things I can't do. But I promise you, this is not the end of things. There are things you can do, I promise.” He drew back enough to look at all the straw in the house, nodding once affirmatively. “And I can help you here like I did before. I can turn this all into gold...for a kindness.”

“...For a kindness,” Minnie mumbled, rubbing her face with her sleeves in an effort to wipe away her tears. “W-what can I do? We still have some bread and milk...”

The magician hesitated for one moment, but not because he was forgetting something or he was reluctant to do what was necessary. Minnie's brother was suffering immensely, she'd just been told there was nothing that could be done, and yet she was still willing to offer up perhaps the only food she had left. She was barely keeping it together, with wet eyes and a shaking body – yet, indeed, she was keeping it together. She was a wondrous being, to be sure, and in that instant the magician had to wonder if he was ever worthy of her at all – if anyone was. He shook his head, and then help up a hand. “No, that's all right. I will spin this straw into gold, if you do me a kindness...and listen to my story.”

Minnie blinked, blinked again, blinked harder and nothing changed. “Listen? That's all? But that's so easy!”

The magician smiled wryly. “You'd be surprised. Some people need their whole lives to learn how to listen. But that's all I'm asking...hear my story out from start to finish, and I will return the favor with your fate.”

“I...” Minnie wasn't sure how well she could pay attention when her brother's pain was still on her mind, but on the other hand, if the magician was going to help them out in such a big way, listening to a simple story was truly the least she could do. She nodded slowly, moving to sit on a stack of straw. “I'll listen. I'll listen to every single word.”

“I know you will.” The magician smiled. “Folks with ears as big as ours, it's one of our best talents.” Despite Minnie's misfortune, the wisecrack made her lips twitch for a quick smile, as he knew it would. “All right, for this story, we're going to need a bit more than our imagination. And another thing... this story doesn't have an ending, not yet. I guess you could say it's a work in progress.” He twirled the staff in his hand, and it glowed with a soft golden haze – little pricks of discarded straw on the floor began to stand up to attention. “It will have some happy parts, and some sad parts, but whether it's a happy story or a sad story...guess that'll depending on the ending, whenever that comes.”

Another twirl of his staff, and the magician suddenly slammed it into the floor. The straw began to fly around, meeting each other and twisting around each other, combining until they were small puppets without strings. Yet the shadows they cast on the wall didn't match their shapes, and Minnie felt her eyelids go heavy. She wasn't sleepy, not exactly, she was suddenly able to see things beyond the shadows, and the magician's voice lost its country twang, becoming somber and cool, and then she was lost in the stars...

“Once upon a time...”

~*~

Once upon a time, there was a happy, beautiful kingdom. It was prosperous and peaceful, with the villagers and the royalty working hand-in-hand so that everyone knew contentment. The King ruled wisely, and he was loved for his sensible actions, his understanding of the common man, and he loved them in return. He also loved his sweet Queen, who was like a mother to everyone she met, bestowing care and concern upon every soul she touched. Theirs could have been a rule that would have made for decades of joy.

But when the Queen gave birth to her first son, she was told that while her heart was great, her body was weak. If she ever had another child, she would not live to see it grow up. For a few years, they had nothing to fear. They raised their first son with care and discipline, knowing someday he would take the throne, so their people would need a fair leader. However, the Queen soon found herself carrying another child. Despite pleas from her husband, the Queen decided that she would give her own life in order for the child to live. Thus the second son was born, and the Queen passed away, leaving the kingdom in great mourning.

Now that the King was alone, he feared that the children would blame themselves for the death of their mother. So he decided that these boys would be raised with love, but nothing else. He would no longer discipline them or allow anyone else to tell them they were wrong. He let them do as they pleased and wouldn't allow them to suffer any consequences. While the poor King meant well, a life without punishment or mistakes is not a good one. The children grew up spoiled and wicked, seeing the world as a game. They treated the servants of the castle like toys, able to bully and hurt whoever they wanted, while every greedy desire was filled. This continued for many years, even as the children became adults, wasting their fortunes and abusing everyone beneath them. They believed that because they were royalty, they deserved the best. They were never told that royal blood, power and gold wasn't necessary for someone to love you. The King told them every day that because they were princes, they were adored by all, even though it wasn't true.

Things would have continued on this dreadful path if not for one mistake. The younger prince often enjoyed using the royal carriage and driving it himself, not caring if anyone or anything was in his path. One day as he was out riding near the edge of the village, a brand new sight caught his eyes. He had seen the most beautiful girl in the entire village – she was outside her house, hanging the laundry out to dry. The prince was so distracted by her beauty that he didn't look where he was going, and the carriage smashed into a nearby tree. The prince was badly injured, and his horses were loose, running rampant.

When the prince woke up, he was inside the very same house, and being tended to by the very same maiden who had accidentally caught his attention. Her brother had calmed down the horses and was working on repairing the carriage. The brother wrapped up his wounds, and the sister sewed up his torn clothing. All the while they asked if he was all right, what they could do for him, and told him that all would be well. The prince assumed all this care was because he was royalty, and so demanded they tell him what price they expected to be paid for their services. But the siblings didn't understand what he was saying. That was when he realized they didn't know he was a prince at all.

~*~

Minnie remembered details that the magician had long since forgotten, like her surprise at how frail and thin the boy in her bed was. It was as if he'd never done a single difficult thing in his life and had no muscles at all. He stared at her, incredulous at what had been said, his cold eyes changing as he struggled to understand. As he tried to form some kind of sentence, Minnie placed a cool, wet rag on his forehead.

“If we're not careful, you could get sick from those wounds,” she had said. “So hopefully that will keep away any fever...but if it doesn't, the doctor in the village is wonderfully talented. I'm sure he'd cure you in no time,” she chirped pleasantly, happy to speak praise of anyone at the drop of a hat. “And the best part is, Clarabelle gave me a little extra payment on her last dress, so paying the doctor will be no trouble at all!”

At that, the boy gripped the bed sheets and tried to sit up, despite Minnie's protests. “Now you wait one minute.” His voice was dry and harsh. “Accepting no payment for aiding me is one thing... but you don't actually expect me to believe you'd shell out good coin for a complete stranger! No one would do that to someone they didn't love or know! Are you nuts?!”

Minnie blinked rapidly, unable to understand what the fuss was all about. Donald calmly reached out and pushed down on the boy's head, sending him back into bed. “If you keep fussing like that, you'll make your wounds worse.”

The boy grumbled, embarrassed that he couldn't even push back. “I am not fussing.”

“Listen, I've raised more than my fair share of baby horses, chickens, cows, and sisters, I know what fussing is.” Donald crossed his arms, ready to tie down the brat if need be. “Sheesh, you act like you don't want us helping you. Would you rather we kick you out?”

“Donald,” Minnie said his name only once, but just that once got him to ease up. She then faced the boy again, all sweetness again. “We're not going to kick you out. In fact, I don't think you should even leave this bed for a few days. Don't you worry about paying or nuttiness or anything at all.” She then stood up, brushing her dress down. “We should get you a good meal, and put some energy back into you! Then I can take measurements for your robes, they'll need to be resewn.” She then clapped her hands together, excited at her new project. “And they're made out of such wonderful materials! It's so rich and soft, this is going to be so much fun! You really have to tell me where you got them!”

Donald stuck a thumb to his chest. “And I'll work on fixing that carriage of yours. If I get a few extra hands from the villagers, it should take no time at all! Might wanna replace the shoes on the horses, though, those guys seem a little worn out.” His eyes shone and his voice became just as giddy as his sibling's. “Once they're no longer spooked, I bet those guys will be able to run faster than we can see! Those are some strong horses you've got there, you have to be proud!”

The boy stared at them, incredulous. The happiness he was seeing there was completely unfamiliar to him – he knew then and there he'd never come close to feeling anything like that. All of his toys, all of his horses, all of his gold, nothing had ever made him smile like they were smiling. He felt himself sinking deeper into the bed. He was a prince, he was royalty, and yet now he felt he was in the presence of two vastly superior beings.

Minnie lightly touched his forehead again. “Now then, is there anything else we can do for you?”

The boy said nothing at first, watching her, trying to understand her, not knowing his eyes were losing their icy glare. “No,” he finally said, and for the first time in his life said, “Thank you.”

~*~

They had no idea who he was, but they had reached out their arms and welcomed him into their home, treating his injuries and helping him in every way they could. The prince was stunned that anyone would be so kind to a complete stranger. To them, rich and poor didn't matter when it came to helping another. Most amazing of all, they wore bright, happy smiles as they hammered up his carriage and washed the blood from his clothes. They were pleased to be helping another person. It was a joy that the prince didn't know could exist. It made all the so-called happiness he thought he knew in the castle seem hollow and empty.

Soon the prince could leave the house, but he found he was reluctant to leave a house of pure love and reenter one so fake and shallow. The prince decided that he didn't want a love he hadn't earned, and wanted to understand how the siblings saw the world. So he decided he would return to the village and not tell people who he was, pretending to be a mere traveler. His surprises continued as the villagers were also kind and welcoming to him, despite thinking he was a commoner. A farm woman offered her eggs for free since he was a new face, and her husband volunteered to give him a tour of the village. A noblewoman selling flowers laughed at his jokes. The blacksmith wanted him to have a seat and share stories. No matter where he went, he found that no one cared for titles or riches, for they had the fortune to know one another.

The prince continued to visit the siblings, and his world opened up. No longer was he merely a prince, but he found new aspects to himself that they brought out. He was a joker, clever, full of energy and creativity. He discovered that it wasn't that they completely loved strangers – their love came from love of humanity itself, of knowing the possibilities with new friends. He learned about hope, compassion, and hard work – and as he saw how hard his friends worked, he better understood how the kingdom was ruled, more than any tutor could teach him. The kingdom was great and prosperous, but it could be better. Perhaps adding a new road there, increasing a price there, getting rid of laws or loopholes... but there was one problem with his attempt to make changes. He wasn't the heir to the throne.

The elder brother was still spoiled and wicked, and had no desire to change his ways. He didn't understand why his younger brother chose to mingle with commoners, and mocked his sibling for his foolish hobbies. The younger prince tried again and again to bring the older prince out of the castle to see the wonderful ways of the kingdom, but the older prince refused. He enjoyed his narcissism and greediness far too much to let anyone inside his heart. The older prince assumed that the younger prince must be toying with the villagers, it was the only thing that made sense to him. It was clear that when he became king, his selfish ways would bring great harm to everyone. He only cared about himself, and believed love was bestowed upon him whether he'd done anything to earn it or not.

The younger prince was despondent, but he still continued to visit the village, even revealing his true self to them all. They happily accepted him and treated him no different, having come to truly adore him the same way he adored them. The ones who cared for him most were the siblings, and no one was surprised to find he felt the same – especially when it came to the pretty little sister. Her heart knew no limits, giving those who had lost their second chances, third, and fourth ones. Whenever she fixed clothing, it was as if she became part of the owner's family, knowing the right stitches and seams to make the old dress or suit feel new again. Sometimes the prince would watch her work, and it was like her fingers were magical, able to weave enchantments around string and cloth, so you'd never knew it had a rip in the first place. All the while she'd hum a merry tune, and perhaps cast the prince a shy smile.

Eventually she got tired of him merely watching and invited him to sit with her, so she could teach him how to sew and stitch. He pricked his fingers many times, and she'd kiss them until the pain went away. The first time the prince successfully stitched two pieces of cloth together, he felt actual accomplishment for the first time in his life. It was only then that he felt he was capable of doing things, of making change, of actually working for someone else. He understood why the little sister took such great pride in her work – and he wanted to feel the same pride. A true ruler was not a ruler at all, but an equal worker with the people of his land. The little sister believed he could do anything he put his mind to, and it was no wonder that she stole his heart. Her brother could see it plain as day, and would often wait a little longer to return home so the shy lovers could spend more time alone together.

Little by little, the younger prince tried to make what changes he could. The man who could tame horses became the stable-hand, an injured guardsman could rest knowing his family would be taken care of, and an arrogant Captain found himself soothed when treated with dignity. But this happy time was not meant to last. The King was growing ill, and it was apparent that soon he would leave the world and his bratty son would ruin the throne. The younger prince was ready to give up all hope of change, but the stable-hand didn't see anything ending so soon. If the older prince wasn't going to change, then someone else would need to rule the kingdom. So the stable-hand asked, “Why couldn't the younger prince take the throne?”

~*~

Minnie saw this too, although the boys hadn't known she was there at the time. Donald and his friend were in the marketplace, with Donald dragging Mickey to every single stall in an effort to buy him something. Donald was overjoyed by his new job at the castle, and insisted he show his thanks with coin, but the boy wasn't having any of it, although the continued efforts were making him laugh. He even laughed when Donald pulled him under his arm and gave him a noogie between the ears. “C'mon you little brat, let me get you a new saddle! Or new shoes! At least let me buy you a meal, you stubborn git!”

“I told you,” the boy said between breathless laughter, “I don't want nothin'! I'm just happy it all worked out!”

At the time, Minnie was getting new sewing needles, and she spotted the two boys playfully roughhousing. She had planned to strut over and see if the boy noticed how much effort she had put into her appearance this morning, but Daisy had suddenly yanked Minnie out of sight, grinning as she put a finger to her lips. To Daisy, spying could be just as much fun as flirting. Minnie didn't quite agree, but neither did she actually fight Daisy off, as they popped their heads around the corner of Daisy's house to watch what the boys would say, preferably about them.

But the subject didn't wander over to females, as Donald let go of his companion. “'Nothin'', he says... you sound more like a villager than a royal! You ever get in trouble for speaking like that?”

“Naw, father doesn't mind...” The boy shrugged. “Mortimer makes fun, but he makes fun of everything I do. He thinks this is all some big joke and he's having the biggest laugh, but he doesn't even want to understand why I'm here.” The boy slowed down his walk, his earlier enthusiasm vanishing. “I'm... I'm really worried, Donald. The other day I heard him proposing some ideas for when he takes the throne... All of it was taxes. Taxes on chicken feed, taxes on wagon wheels, taxes on horseshoes...he's going to rob everyone of every last coin they have, and he thinks he deserves it.”

Donald stuck his hands into his pockets, initially quiet given the seriousness of the conversation. “...Have you given any thought to what I said? I meant it. You should be the next king.”

The girls had gasped and covered each other mouths with their hands – Minnie got to Daisy's first - quickly to muffle the sound. Donald glanced over, quizzical at what he thought he heard, but the boy sighed loudly enough to bring him back. “I don't know...that's a lot of responsibility, and I...I don't think I could ever be as good as my father.”

Donald gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. “No one's asking you to be as good as your old man. Amazingly enough, he's not perfect, and neither are you...no matter what certain girls may be thinking.” He shot a glance at the not-very-well-hidden lasses. He didn't need to see Minnie to know she was blushing deeply and Daisy was suppressing mad giggling. “We just want you to be you, and that's more than good enough to help us all out. At least ask around and see what everyone else thinks.”

The boy slowly smiled, lifting his head to face Donald. He reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder. “Thanks...Y'know, you're one of the best friends I've ever had.”

“Does that really count if you didn't have any friends until you met me and Minnie?”

The boy smirked. “If I do become king, the first thing I'll do is outlaw all wise-guys.”

Donald put his arm around the boy's neck in a pretend choke. “I'll stop the wisecracks if you let me reward you, my bother-in-law.” But he hadn't forgotten the R.

Now it was the boy's turn to blush and fluster while Donald cackled joyfully, and the girls collapsed against each other in high-pitched giggles, having no doubt that the boy would be king and their lives would be grand and glorious.

~*~

The younger prince was shocked at the idea, and at first didn't accept it. But as he went from friend to friend, villager to villager, he discovered they too encouraged the idea and would be proud to see him wear the crown. Encouraged by all those who believed in him, the prince approached his dying father and on one knee, made the argument to become the next king. As the King listened to all the experiences his younger son had gone through, and how much his boy had changed, he realized how wrong he had been to raise his children without a firm hand. Despite his failings, the younger prince had become a fine man, and would be a fine ruler. The younger prince was henceforth declared to be the heir to the throne.

The older son was enraged by this choice. He saw his younger brother as a thief, and his father as a liar who didn't truly love him at all. He refused to let his power be taken, and would use any means to keep what he saw as rightfully his. The older son decided to use the family's secret to secure his throne. Long ago when the sons were still young, the King had told them of a magic book hidden in his room. It had been given to the earliest of kings by a friendly wizard, who assured them that if they continued to rule in kindness, then the magic would never fade. That was the number one rule of magic – in order to do a kindness, a kindness must be given in turn. Generations of kings and queens vowed to only use the book in the most dire of emergencies, and now the oldest prince felt this was an emergency. As his father slept, he crept into the room and stole the book, selecting a certain spell that would keep things the way he wanted them – and more.

The night before the last of the spell was complete, the younger prince visited his favorite family once more, telling them that he would take the throne. They were happy for him, and knew he would rule well. He promised tomorrow he would see them again, and he took the younger sister into his hands, telling her that he would have a very important question to ask her when that day came. He told her how much he loved her, that his very day and night began with thoughts of her, and that she had helped him become a better person. She responded that she loved him too, and that her life was richer than gold because she knew him. Whatever question he had for her, she knew she would reply with truest sincerity and deepest love.

~*~

This memory was clearest of all, for it had the most details she could grasp. The chilly air under the moonlight gave the boy the idea to take off his cape and wrap it around Minnie's shoulders. They could have just as easily gone inside the house, but Donald was there, and this was not a moment that needed teasing. Even though the moment was peaceful and tranquil, with their foreheads pressed together and not a word exchanged between them, their hearts were racing. The boy would be King, not tomorrow and not the day after, but it would be soon. For better or worse, things would change, and they were both excited and afraid of what that would entail.

Minnie looked into his beautiful blue eyes, amazed that once they held so much cold and cruelty. She knew she was part of the reason for that change, and there was a hint of pride in her heart. “You're going to be a wonderful king,” she spoke softly.

“I'm gunna do my best,” the boy replied, and Minnie had come to enjoy the drawl he picked up from the village. It seemed as if the real boy had been hidden for years and being in the village had drawn him out. “And I still might not be sure what my best is...but I'm going to try. This whole kingdom is full of great, amazing people...” He reached out to cup her cheek. “And I want to keep them all happy.” Even if he valued some people's happiness over others. He was a flawed being – but so was everyone else, like his great father. “And I want you, and Donald, and everyone else to keep my head on straight. I won't be running this place alone. We're all going to work hand-in-hand, together.”

Minnie touched the hand on her cheek, wanting to keep him there even though she knew he had to leave soon. “What did you want to ask me? Why does it have to wait?”

The boy smiled – a real, genuine, full of happiness smile. “Sorry, Minnie, but not even you are gunna get out of me until the time is right!”

“What's wrong with the time right now?” Minnie grabbed his robes, trying to yank him down. “Ask me, ask me, ask me!”

“No way, no how, not now!” The boy made a run for it, laughing merrily, and the girl ran after him, laughing just as hard, chasing each other around the smashed tree. He managed to outrun her and then caught her in his arms, spinning her around as they dizzily called each other names in truest adoration. She tried to demand he tell her, so he silenced her with a kiss, and it was warm, and it was soft, and each kiss they had was better than their last. But no matter how many kisses were exchanged, no matter how many declarations of love were passed between them in sweet whispers, he wouldn't ask her what he wanted to ask her until, as he insisted, the time was right.

Finally the boy had to leave, and as he reluctantly began to enter his carriage, he felt his sleeve being tugged. He turned around, an amused expression on his face. “For the last time-”

“I know,” Minnie interrupted, letting go of him. “All I wanted to ask was...whatever this question is...is it going to help the kingdom?”

The boy watched her for a moment, and Minnie felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. The boy took her hand and kissed her knuckles, and her heart skipped a beat. “I think it will help the kingdom in a million and one ways... but even if it didn't, I still think it's pretty gosh darn important. Might be the most important question I ever asked.” Then, playfully adding as he drew her in close to kiss her forehead. “Aside from, 'are you nuts'?”

Minnie pushed him into the carriage, sticking out her tongue, but once he was gone and the hoofbeats couldn't be heard, she put her hands on her chest, and she smelled his scent on his cape. She somehow knew this night was a special one. She touched her fingers to her lips, wondering if she'd ever stop smiling. She had an idea to what his question would be, but for now she'd wait. She could be patient, if he was going to ask what she believed he would ask.

~*~

In the night as everyone slept, the older prince finished the last action of the spell – a spell to make everyone forget that the younger prince had ever existed. Yet the older prince didn't realize the spell would even affect himself. In the morning, no one remembered who the younger prince was. He was thrown out of the castle as an intruder, no matter how hard he pleaded and begged for his family to remember him. He ran into the village, but no one knew his name, and it was as if they didn't want to know. Not only had every memory of him been taken, but even the actions he'd done were being forgotten. In one last desperate act, he ran to the house of the seamstress and the stable-hand. The stable-hand had no idea who he was, and was about to find his sister to ask if she knew who the stranger was.

The younger prince couldn't stand the thought of his beloved asking who he was, and so he fled from the kingdom with a broken heart. Like a coward, he hid away from the world, crying over what he had lost and couldn't regain. His gentle father died without remembering his youngest son. Every day, the prince too began to lose memories about himself, even his own name, and feared one day he would vanish completely. Yet not everyone had completely forgotten him, for as powerful as the spell was, it was no match for the original immortal wizard who had created it – his mind would last much longer than a mere mortal's, although he too would eventually forget. The kindly, goofy old wizard had sensed someone using his spells for an ill purpose, and had found the younger prince. He took the boy in, teaching him spells to delight and help those around him, but also warned the prince that the kingdom was suffering because of the older prince's actions.

The older prince had ignored the one rule of magic – to do a kindness and have a kindness be done in turn. Because he had done neither, the spell was incomplete and wreaking havoc with everyone's minds. Their memories were fighting back, trying to be remembered, and the inconsistency all around them would cause them great pain and panic. Soon, everyone in the kingdom would be stricken with agony before ultimately leading to their deaths. The spell had finally started to affect the wizard as well, forgetting the prince's name and what he'd taught the boy. The wizard did know how to reverse the spell, but unfortunately it was through an action neither of them could do. The younger prince couldn't allow his people to suffer, and with what little he remembered of his spells and his life, he bid the wizard farewell. The wizard gave the boy his magical staff, which would boost his powers and delay the headaches, but only for a short amount of time. With the spells, the staff, and the ambition, the prince needed to find the one person who could perform the action and reverse the spell, and he knew who it would be.

It was the one person he loved, the one he wanted, the one he needed, and even if it would torment him to have her ask who he was, he knew he had to see her again. Her bond with him was the strongest, and she would be the one to last the longest, and she could find the...

~*~

It was there that the magician stopped his tale, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. Minnie gasped, as if she'd forgotten how to breathe, and she remembered where she was, as hot tears rolled down her face. No, she didn't know his name, but her heart pounded with tragedy and devotion – how could she have forgotten him? How could she have lost the times when he cupped her face and kissed her hair, whispering words of tenderness that he was embarrassed others would hear? The warmth of his cape on her shoulders – she could see it all, feel it all, clear as day – his bruised face laying on her bed, those cold eyes melting into genuine affection, his games with the children of the village, his merry dancing when festivals were alive – and – oh – oh no, no, no, just as she was seeing them, they were leaving! She'd sold the cape when she couldn't recall where she'd gotten it - she was going to forget them again – she was going to forget him again!

Minnie jumped off the hay and ran to the magician, grabbing his arms, as if by holding him she could never let anything about him go again. “What can I do?” she begged him, shaking him hard. “I don't want to forget you again! How can I reverse the spell?” The headache came, and she fought it off, though it wasn't easy.

The magician dropped to one knee, holding her hands gently. “The only way to reverse the spell...is for someone who loves me to say my name.”

The seamstress plunged into what few memories she had left, but to her horror found that not even times of kisses and playful dates had a name to them. “I...I don't remember!” She breathed rapidly, her body trembling with sadness. “I'm trying, but I can't! And...I'm losing it all again! It's all leaving me!” Her vision blurred, and she knew she loved him, but she couldn't say why. “You're why...You're why I can't be with anyone else! I don't want to be with anyone else! I'll never be truly happy again unless I'm with you!” She bent over, hoarse with sobs, knowing that if she closed her eyes she'd forget the color of his eyes. “There's... nothing I can do...”

“Yes, there is.” The magician's soft voice became strong, and he held her face, the way she thought she remembered he used to. “I've lost so many memories...but my memories about you are the strongest! I know that there's an item in the castle that still has my name on it! It's hidden in my room, and the one thing Mortimer didn't toss away, because I never told him about it. I know it has my name on it, and if you say it, then everyone will remember everything! The headaches will stop, and Donald won't be in pain anymore!”

Minnie swallowed hard. “Item? What item?”

The magician's face momentarily fell. “I... I don't remember what it is. All I can remember is that I hid it, it has my name, and it's connected to you somehow! If I get in the castle myself, Mortimer will throw me out before I can find it. There has to be some way for you and Donald to get in the castle. He's the stable-hand, maybe you can use that somehow!”

No, that wouldn't work, and Minnie knew it. She also knew there was another way into the castle, and for a moment wondered why the magician hadn't mentioned it – unless he'd already forgotten, or just as plausible, the idea would disgust him so deeply he'd forbid it. It disgusted her too, but it was the only way she'd be allowed within the castle, and to find the item that would save the kingdom. She wouldn't tell the magician, not when he was already suffering so much. All her life she wanted to be useful to people, to help them, and this would be the hardest way yet. Donald had said he would spend every coin he had to keep Minnie healthy – it was time for her to step up and return that devotion.

“There is something I can do,” she finally said, hands knotted together. “Something only I can do.” For the sake of her brother, for everyone in the kingdom, and to save the man in front of her, she'd sacrifice everything. Hers was a love for all so great and pure it could be devastating.

The magician smiled, perhaps with a tear or two of his own. “I believe in you, Minnie.” That one word, that one name, was the one that had never been forgotten for a single second. If all else failed and he was doomed, it would be the last memory to leave him, he knew it. He pressed their foreheads together – he greatly longed for a kiss, but knew if he dared, he would be unable to leave her, even though his mere presence was hurting her mind. He could see her wincing in pain, and understood his time was up.

He rose to his feet, picking up a strand of straw as he did so. “Because you have done me a kindness and listened to my story, I will do you a kindness and turn all of this straw into gold.” There was no need for fancy flourish or trying to impress her when time was on the line. Once more he blew the strand away, once more all the straw flew around in a dizzying tornado, and once more when the blinding colors came to a stop, gold bars covered the floor to the ceiling. Minnie closed her eyes, her hands clinging to her dress. She was afraid, deeply so, and she knew that even if she had all her memories intact, she was never as frightened as she was now. The things she was about to do, the fate of everyone in her small hands, it was a burden she wasn't ready for. But she'd carry it all, and she wouldn't complain, she wouldn't object. She never knew she was capable of such strength.

Had the magician brought it out of her, during those tranquil days of stitching colors and sharing stories? The spell was over, and Minnie dared to look up, but this time the magician hadn't even given her a farewell before leaving. Perhaps it had been too much for him to see her this way, and she couldn't blame him. Her head hurt, and so did her heart.

Minnie couldn't go anywhere now, the gold made it impossible for her to walk to any of the rooms, even blocking her off from Donald. She could only go to the door, and used this space to quietly call for the guards. “Inform the King,” she said with a somber voice, “that the gold is ready.” Without waiting for a reply she closed the door. She sat down, hugging her knees, unable and unwilling to sleep. Every time her head seemed ready to nod off, she bit down on her tongue, making herself jolt back up. She wouldn't allow herself to sleep, to let her mind lose more memories, not if she could help it. The night passed like eternity, and every so often she wept over what she had lost and what she could lose.

After what felt like centuries of agony, she could hear the sound of hoofbeats outside. She slowly stood up, brushing down her dress and cleaned up her face as best she could. The door opened, with Pete coming inside first. Even though he was there the first morning that this had happened, he was still shocked to see all the gold piled up like tall buildings.

“Hooolyyyy cow.” Pete drew out the word as his eyes took their time surveying the room. “I don't think this much gold exists in the whole wide world.” He looked down at Minnie, and while there wasn't exactly kindness in his face, she thought she saw a mixture of awe and respect. “How do you do it, miss? I mean really, how do you do it?”

Minnie blinked and for a brief second saw him before the spell had been cast – he had still been big, but it had been controlled, a warm portly belly that moved when he laughed and strong arms that could hug everyone – but then it was gone, and he was a sad soul that left hurt feelings control his diet. “I just do my best, Captain,” she finally said with a faint smile. “Just like you do. It's all anyone should ever want from you, and I know you do it.”

Pete was surprised, and he scratched his cheek, unsure how to handle such a compliment. Perhaps he would've thanked her, if the King hadn't shoved him aside. “Hey, if you want to be the first person road-block, do it somewhere else, tubby!” And just as Minnie had a quick flash to Pete's former self, a horrid memory came with Mortimer as well.

It was quick, and she couldn't remember all that had been said – but she was very sure he had approached her with leery eyes and eager fingers, trying to entice her, trying to take her, trying to assure her that he'd be a much better match for her than her brother, and that was all it had really been, trying to somehow prove he was better than his brother by taking what he loved most – and she had slapped him, hard, right across the cheek -

“What is this?” Mortimer asked, startling Minnie back to the present – her hand had been outstretched, close to reenacting what she recalled.

“I...wanted.. to shake your hand!” Minnie said quickly, her body shaking. “And thank you for coming to my humble little house again!”

“Ah, of course!” Mortimer took her hand, kissing her knuckles and making Minnie's skin crawl. “See, now there's some real respect. Maybe a good night of work showed you what's what.” He then looked around to see the gold, heels clicking with glee. “And look at all that work! I could fill my entire room with all this gold! Pete, don't just stand there, start carrying something other than your gut!” He rubbed his hands, and walked over to the closest section of gold, beginning to count.

Minnie braced herself, biting her lip, before she spoke. “Your Highness... is this going to happen again?”

Mortimer frowned at being interrupted. “So what if it does? There's plenty of straw left in this kingdom, and plenty of room in my castle for gold! You should be grateful that I've chosen you to do this honor! Others would beg for an opportunity to even be near me!”

As Pete glanced around, wondering what happened to Donald, Minnie continued speaking timidly. “And if I don't spin the next batch of straw into gold again, I'll be thrown into the dungeon... or become your bride.”

“That's right!” Mortimer snorted, crossing his arms and continuing to count. “So unless you'd rather be behind bars or behind the castle walls, you're going to do exactly as I say.”

“... What if I'd rather do that?”

Both men stopped what they were doing, and although Donald couldn't hear this conversation, he felt a sudden urge to sit up in bed.

Minnie looked right into the eyes of the man killing the kingdom, and no longer hesitated, speaking as boldly and directly as she could.

“Your Highness, King Mortimer...Please give me the honor of being your bride.”

[furederiko]

"A universe without Naga... I can't even imagine it" Can Balance save his BFF, and bring him back into the light? Kyuranger's 31st episode delivers the answer, and it's a tearful one...

- Expecting a utopian present after defeating the real Don Armage proves to be a wishful thinking. According to Hammy, everything remains the same and Jark Matter's reign is still at large. In a way, it also feels that our heroes is losing more winning this war. The team is no longer the 12 members unit as it was with Commander Xiao and Champ being left behind 333 years ago in the past. And they don't only lose one, but seemingly two Orions: the warrior who gave up his life to give Lucky the miracle power-up, and ORION the spaceship that is heavily damaged due to the time travel trip. - Things aren't faring better for the 'Save Naga' team either. Ever since Lucky went to the past, Balance has gone MIA, and both the Blues were captured by Dark-Naga and Akyanba. Dark-Naga is now using Garu and Kotarou as baits to lure out Balance, because he wants to "get rid of him, personally". Ouch! On the opposite side, Echidna is still determined to eliminate Naga. Since this new formation of Kyuranger also refuses to aide her, she decides to do it alone. Which is obviously NOT a wise choice. - The battle between Ophiucus Metal and Echidna is shortlived, but it does get pretty dark. The former now has the ability to take control her body with his freezing ray! Great goodness, he's only mere seconds away from making Echidna kills herself!!! Thankfully the Kyurangers (sans Raptor and Stinger) arrive just in time to prevent that. Pursuing his goal, Ophiucus Metal specifically targets Libra Gold, and unleashes the Black Hole Kyu Globe to eliminate him. Leo Red jumps in to protect Libra Gold... and, the two of them are obliterated. Wait... WHAT? - Well, if you somehow sense the over-the-top "Mamma Miaaaaa!!!" reactions of the other Kyurangers feel... bizarre, then you're totally not alone. And no, it also doesn't mean that the director simply forgot to tell these actors to act. This scene was nothing more than a deliberate ruse! A brilliant one at that. Beside, Kyuranger has pulled off many emotional scenes that were waaaaay better executed than this, so clearly something is amiss. - But seriously, what happens to Leo Red and Libra Gold, then? This is where things get faux-sciency. Turns out, Balance hasn't been sulking or sobbing in a bar, making himself wasted due to the loss of his BFF (unlike... a certain someone I'm familiar with). All these time, he has been actively working for a solution: analyzing the people who were also 'emotionally' affected by Akyanba, and tweaking the Microscopium Kyu Globe as the tool required for his big rescue plan. Last we saw this Skill Kyu Globe in action, Raptor used it to detect the 'microscopical Mothma' affecting ORION's control. With Balance's special add on, the Kyu Globe not only magnifies object, but actually gives its user the ability to SHRINK down into microscopical size! Ladies and gentlemen, Kyuranger had just officially gone "ANT-MAN" on us. Marvel-ous surprise. LOL. Fun fact: the same episode that debuted Microscopium, also had Naga as 'victim' to a supposed-crime incident. In actuality, we all knew he only passed out while practicing expressions in front of the mirror! At the time, it was set as a silly humor. But was that really a coincidence, knowing this episode revisits the same Kyu Globe, while also trying to rescue Naga as a victim? Hmmm... I don't think so. - You see, there's a faux-scientific reason to why Akyanba's victim got emotionally warped. Turns out, she planted microscopic Indavers into their brains, and they messed around with their nerves (remember, emotions are triggered by particular neurons. That's actual science...). Don't get the wrong idea though, Naga DID have his emotions unlocked by the Vice-Shogun. He wasn't mind-controlled, and still accepted Akyanba's offer on his own free will. But at the same time, Akyanba also infected him with the same 'virus' that caused every victims to go berserk, hence the aggressive result. It all made sense! I can't believe I didn't realize this sooner, when the evidence (the civillians? duh...) has always been there in plain sight. That's brilliant writing, I say. - As Lucky and Balance cleans up the Indavers that are twisting Naga's neurons, the other Kyurangers are also able to track their location to free Garu and Kotarou. Now, the 'BRAIN' setting is where things get a bit... surreal and/or metaphorical. When Balance is approaching 'Good Naga' to free him, Malistrate Microtsuyo-Indaver stops him and seemingly summons 'Dark-Naga' to the place. This is NOT actually happening in reality, because the real flesh and blood Dark-Naga is still on the ground, guarding his two captives. Simply put, Balance is fighting the 'virus', or negative conscience that takes the form of 'Dark-Naga', so he can free the body's positive conscience (something like... immunity system, perhaps?) that's taking the form of 'Good Naga'. Get it? - Then again, understanding this tricky metaphor shouldn't really be much an issue. I'm sure any audience would pretty much be carried away by their own emotions, that they don't have time to nitpick or pointlessly analyze (like what I've been doing LOL). Seriously, if you don't feel an inch of pain and sadness or concern as you see Balance taking all the hits, even throwing away his own life to protect 'Good Naga'... then you probably don't have a heart. This scene is heartfelt and moving, and amplified to the optimum when the other Kyurangers (with Hammy as the lead) begin calling out Naga's name to 'come back'. No kidding. Those flowing tears from his eyes? Dang it, the feels. And that flashback of him wanting emotions so he can cry or be angry? Aaaaaw... THE FEELS!!! T_T - Of course the rescue plan would be a success. 'Good Naga' champions over 'Dark-Naga' to protect Balance, winning back the control over his emotions. It's basically a "Persona 4" situation of fighting their own demons/shadows. Naga himself chose to have emotions, so it's him who needs to choose and filter how it would take shape of. But there's one more surprise to the outcome. Naga gets to keep his power-up in tact!!! After the BN Thieves team up to take down Microtsuyo-Indaver (who grows giant... into regular size. Comedy gold. LOL), Ophiucus Silver transforms into benevolent Ophiucus Metal! He then uses the Black Hole Kyu Globe, combining Leo Red Orion's "All Star! In-Finish Blast" with his "Metal Ophiucus Crash" to defeat Akyanba. Other Kyurangers then use their own finishers. Everyone (just 6 members) form Kyutamajin to deal with giant Ophiucus Metal, a manifestation of Dark-Naga's rage that has built up inside Microtsuyo-Indaver's body. The Vice-Shogun walks out alive, but the battle is still won. NOTE: Leo Red Orion's space manipulation to create portals in battle is wicked-awesome to see in action. The scarf/mantle part is really effective to add flare in battles. Even in stage performance, as evidenced by the G-Rosso's theatre footage that was aired during commercial breaks. However, the dearly-missed reunion of Libra Gold and Ophiucus Silver naturally sucks up all the attention and glory. It's just really good to see the BN Thieves together again, am I right? That includes taking the spotlight in that ending sequence. As for Ophiucus Metal, worth noted that it's pretty rare for recent Sentai series to assign power-up to a non-Red member. The last one whom I recall received similar treatment was Super StarNinger who achieved a new poncho thanks to the Gekiatsutou. - The closing scene takes us back to another heartfelt moment. Despite his carefree facade, Balance can no longer hold back his feelings, and cries his heart out for Naga. Such a moving scene. Aaaaw... the feels. Dang it, Kyuranger! Dang it. Echidna witnesses this teary celebration, and attests that everyone is strong because of their emotions. I WAS kind of expecting her to have a more important role, perhaps a twist of her being someone's close to Naga or something. Alas, that turns out not to be the case. I'm definitely not disappointed or anything, but it's still a potential that could've been explored. Then again, before heading home, she decides to let Naga's supposed 'treasons' slide. Since Naga is off the hook, does this mean Echidna has a change of heart? After all, he does prove that having emotion isn't that much of a threat for people from the Ophiucus System... as long as one can contain it to focus only on the positive sides. I wonder if this turn of event will encourage change to their home planet? - Celebration time! Unfortunately, this celebratory mode is not fully shared by everyone in the room. One particular Kyuranger, is firmly setting her sight on another pressing matter: the ORION's condition. That's the story for another day...

Overall: This tearjerker episode had a tough task, coming out after a powerful entry that was last week's episode. Comparison between both episodes, particularly for nitpickers like yours truly, would be inevitable. In general however, I personally call this a success. It had a fine balance of tone shift that wondrously transitioned from emotional moments, to humor and action in between without ever breaking the flow. The 'Evil Ranger' arc was wrapped nicely, and it was crucially tied to the next plot right away. More importantly, the minor/personal arcs of both Balance and Naga that began since their debut, were given a sweet and wonderful closure. The BN Thieves are bounty and treasure hunters, so it's heartwarming to know that the ultimate treasure they have been looking for, has always been close by all along. Balance discovered, realized, and acknowledged that the greatest treasure he could ever wanted, was none other than the BFF he cared and trusted the most. While Naga's desire to acquire true emotions was obtained, fulfilled through darkness, but only made full circle with the selfless love and help of his BFF. The pair complemented and strengthened each other, proving why they were always meant to work as a duo, and not solo. Not unlike Chewbacca, and Han Solo, right? Next week: Story of Raptor & dear uncle ORION PS: TV-Nihon has released their fansub for the first episode of "High School Wars". Word of advice though, you might want to postpone any desire to see it. Do NOT watch it until late October, unless you're okay having the next four episodes (episode 32 to 35) to be potentially spoiled. The mini web-series works as a coupling to V-Cinema "Episode of Stinger", which according to report, takes place around episode 35. So it's probably best to avoid "High School Wars" accordingly as well, at least until episode 35 airs.

Episode 31 Score: 8,2 out of 10

Visit THIS LINK to view a continuously updated listing of the Kyutama / Kyu Globes. Last Updated: September 27th, 2017 - Version 2.15. (WARNING: It might contain spoilers for future episodes)

All images are screencaptured from the series, provided by the FanSubber Over-Time. "Uchu Sentai Kyuranger" is produced by TOEI, and airs every Sunday on TV-Asahi. Credits and copyrights belong to their respective owners.

[ryodan]

Sasuke and SASUSAKU.

Okay, I just saw this and I’ll humor you. I’ll even make a whole post for you.

@homez18

1)      Whether  Kishimoto said he was good or bad at writing romance is pretty irrelevant here as sasusaku related material made it into 44 of his 72 volumes. And actually, he never said he is bad at writing romance, he said he felt uncomfortable seeing characters he ‘grew’ kiss (Hinata and Naruto) and that he does not understand the hearts of women so he had to consult his editor and wife to write certain SS scenes, which in itself is effort spent. He never said ‘Idk how they got together’ he said he wrote the story with them in the back of his mind wondering how he would make them end up together and just decided to go with the flow.  This is coming from the man who also said in the second board meeting with the Naruto staff that they were end game since their conception as character #5 and #6 respectively, a rival and a heroine added to the story and he thought of making a love triangle thing happen but was like no I probably could not pull that off. So, there goes that argument.

2)      I will mention part 2 ss if you want me to, friend. But, saying SS does not make sense to the character (who I am assuming is sasuke?) and trying to erase part 1 is pretty???? Because a lot of part 2 was focused on getting the Sasuke they loved in part 1 back..a happier more emotionally stable one though.

3)      Part 1 SS is very important because it is the time during the run of the series that featured the most  positive emotional growth and development for sasuke, and a huge part of it was linked to sakura. We start off with this irritable, socially reclusive boy who’s first thought in the series is ‘more people will just drag me down’, and we later learn the reason of this behavior is trauma and survivors guilt which often leads to isolation, repression and irritability. This is not me trying to add psychology to his character arc, all of this is out right shown multiple times on spaced out occasions which reinforces that these are reoccurring thoughts. His fixation on his ‘revenge plot’ was aided by the fact that he was an introverted shy boy (this does not equal wants to be left alone considering he regularly sought acknowledgment) pre massacre and a full blown out isolated mess afterwards. Being alone only allowed him to obsess over revenge further, which no matter how you look at it is not healthy and it was never shown in the series to be healthy.

But anyways, I digress. A lot of him growing positively linked to Sakura. Some of his biggest part 1 moments include fighting orochimaru, awakening his seal and suppressing it (the cursed seal is arguably one  of  the biggest progressions of his character in part 1 as it leads to him being manipulated into leaving the village) and his fight with gara (again, arguably the moment he showed how much he grew as a character with team 7)

4)      Don’t forget. The Curse of Hatred (憎しみの呪い, Nikushimi no Noroi) was an ideal common to the Uchiha Clan, the Uchiha are people greatly devoted to love and friendship, yet they tend to conceal their more affectionate traits. When the object of their affection is lost, an Uchiha’s love can instantaneously turn into hatred, leaving them more inclined to do anything and everything in their power to achieve their goals and show their own superiority, regardless of the consequences and repercussions of their actions. The despair of these experiences cause a manifestation of unique chakra within an Uchiha’s brain, impacting the optic nerves and creating the sharingan. This also requires extremely painful experiences, which cause the user to delve into darkness that utterly consumes them.

I won’t bring this up

                        Because this also happens

What I am trying to say is early part one gave a very good set up for who sasuke really is as a person, genuinely pretty empathetic and pure hearted which is easily backed up by the fact that when he was a kid (kishi regularly uses childhood to explain a psyche of a character) despite his inferiority complex growing due to his brother, he was still more concerned with the relationship between his dad and his brother going sour than his own feelings of neglect.

Even so, it was still obvious that he needed to go through some positive development.

The first time we are introduced to Sasuke’s stance in the entire series as an avenger is through his first interactions with sakura, which were literally given romantic context from volume 1 and mentioned again over the entire series and highlighted nearing the finale in volume 70, so yeah pretty relevant.

His isolation and irritability generally made him seem off standoffish but even with that, he took his time out to explain his stance in the story which is a pretty fuckin big deal considering this opening up is something suigetsu complains about in part 2 and jugo struggles to understand him because of. Naruto has to physically pull it out of him, kakashi got it when sasuke was in a very emotionally volatile state and sakura got it with a hug.

Cut to the first mission and his ties with naruto and sakura are established , the rival friend and the girl with the crush he feels some sort of protective affection for.

Moments like these (that make grown ass men cry but get antis panties in a knot) are funny bc when you say that he is comfortable with her touch already someone has to say he just woke up, but homeboy had a bunch of senbon sticking into him like a hedgehog and he still took a moment to call naruto a moron and say he did not want to die before accomplishing revenge.

 So, until this day the person he is most physically comfortable with sakura and we all know how he feels about physical touch haha

After said mission, a very sweet and important scene happens and it highlights a shift in character for sasuke. It’s also the scene my avid sasuke hater friend says ‘the only time that dick did anything nice’. Where after he has a lil salty moment with a naruto who was acting particularly bratty that day gives Sakura the ‘instead of minding me why don’t you practice a jutsu? To be frank with you, your abilities are even less than naruto’s.’ which if after the guy readily jumped in front an attack to protect her you think he is going out of his way to be a dick then that is a pretty faulty assumption. He was being frank, it is what it is. Was it needed to make sakura realize her ass needs to grow up? Yes. Could it have been worded better? Also, yes. Which is why the next scene happens where Sasuke grows more in tune with her and is able to tell she is feeling down. Him being aware of and caring about her personal feelings is a huge step forward  for his character and is pretty much the only time this type of behavior exists from him.

He is being nice, says a huge compliment and look at his little smile, he is satisfied that she is happy. A huge step forward from ‘I don’t care for bonds bc I have revenge!!11!!’

The fight vs rock lee happens and sasuke grows a little more and team 7 has a scene furthering their bonds (added romantic context on sakuras part ofc)

During the chuunin exams ofc they face orochimaru and sasuke over comes something shown right in the beginning of the land of the waves arc : an intense paralyzing fear of strong  opponents with an intense blood lust dating back to the day of the massacre.

 He sees Sakura shaking and his sharingan activates, showing he is worried about her and as they are about to get attacked he forces himself to move (ugoke!) and stabs himself to go get her. Cute moment showing he cares. A lot.

And yet again a huge character moment, when she calls him out on being a coward and for his hypocrisy towards naruto, insulting him frequently yet in the same position naruto was once in and in his mind he immediately flashes  back to the reason he always believed he needed to live : his ‘moral burden’ of killing itachi and for the first time refuses to live tied by the ‘rules’ itachi made for him and over comes that fear and fights. She talk no jutsued sasuke lol

And ofc he gets bitten and seeks physical comfort from her. he initiated that contact with her meaning her presence is comforting to him, a big deal in a moment of such intense agony.

And then the iconic hug scene, where his survivor guilt is shown in his nightmares and his intense feelings of hating himself for not being able to protect him family causing his curse mark to act up and when he wakes up to see sakura hurt, the mark and by extension sasuke under it’s influence heating him up go out of control. (but even then when she expresses worry over him he takes time out to explain his major stance in the entire story yet again, even if I abandon myself to evil on my path I must obtain power)

‘Sakura, iie! omae o kizutsuke ta no wa doidsu da?’

‘Sakura, tell me! Which of them hurt you?’ chosen in the databook by kishi and readers as one of the best scenes because it shows ‘she is now a person he wants to protect and how angry he would get at himself if he could not do it’

Again quoting the databook, Sakuras heart thinking of sasuke devours the wicked power.

And even after this is over homeboy watches over her getting her hair cut, is like ?? at Naruto when he asks about her hair instead of her beat up face. After this, they really became much closer and more in sync, even working together and show casing that they can strategize together.

His resolve of avenging his families death doesn’t magically disappear however and he is still focused on getting stronger hence the little conversation they have, where sakura is worried about him in pain and starts crying, sasuke sees this and is disturbed so he yet again explains his stance in the story to her but funnily enough singles her out (ikura omae demo) as a very special person and says he won’t forgive even her if she takes that away from him. Inside the fight he is sustained by his wet dream (joke)  and the cheer he got from the annoying orange and is able to suppress the curse once again thinking about (his crying fetish) her tears.

And then god damn, they are on a roll here bc the fight with gara happens and sakura jumps in to protect him from a lethal blow and if what happened previously wasn’t enough of an emphasized thing, the love in sakuras eyes #triggers  gara.

And Sasuke gives his little speech telling naruto to save her and essentially that he is about to go off on a suicide mission and knows it’ll probably end here but he is ready to do it because he is not willing to see another precious person to him die right in front of him again. Mind you, this is after he shows again the intensity of his survivor guilt straight up saying the only reason he was ‘allowed to live’ was to carry the moral burden of avenging his clan but at this moment in time the pain of losing someone that precious to him is enough to make him consciously decide he is willing to die and leave all of that behind. This is the biggest difference between this and those scenes in the land of waves arc. Back then, it was show casing his empathy and kindness, my body moves on it’s own and even though I could die and not accomplish my goals which I really want to I cant just let a comrade die in front of me, where as now it’s I know I probably won’t come out of this but then pain of dying and not accomplishing my goals seem less than seeing another person I care so much about die right in front me. Seeing this, naruto realizes the importance of caring and fighting for the people you love and fights gara, teaching him the same values. Important scene overall to the story.

After seeing  naruto go up to par with gara and ‘realizing how helpless’ he was in that fight he was pretty jealous due to feelings of inferiority to naruto, and that jealousy was  partly fueled and thrown in our face twice by seeing sakura smile gently at naruto. Romantic or not, he is jealous of her smiling at naruto, that is undeniable.

And then itachi happens, and that reawakens his intense resolve. It doesn’t help the fact that orochimaru sought him out while extremely emotionally vulnerable. Ofc his petty ass attitude in the hospital scenes was fueled by his feelings of inferiority thrown in his face by the one person he really did not want that from, the same person who made him feel inferior as a child. And again to add heat to the burn, he remembers the smile and the plate thing happens.I see a lot of anti sasuke people talking about his scene pretending that when i say inferiority complex while talking about sasuke i mean something stemming from lack of acknowledgment from his dad, from being weaker than itachi and not able to protect his family, for having itachi be like i am here for naruto idc about you after everything. Not, oh man naruto seems better than me :/ gotta start shit :/

Oh right the hug when he wakes up. Again, people claim he was tired and traumatized, which he was, But the look he gave her for caring about him so much was very tender and it did not go unnoticed to nardo.

He ofc gets manipulated by the sound 4 and we are shown how emotionally attached he is to team 7

And the confession scene happens where sakura just desperately gives him promise after promise of making him happy and it isn’t just because she wants him there but also she doesn’t want to see her loved one torment and hurt himself over revenge, but it is more than revenge to sasuke it’s a moral burden, (he has a right to want to avenge his family from their murderer from a moral stand point) and that is what he kept trying to communicate to both her and kakashi. He doesn’t allow her to come because just as we saw with team taka, he isn’t willing to let anyone shoulder what he believes to be his personal pain and burden, specially not someone so special. And when she cries over him leaving and the fact that she believed for a second that he doesn’t care and forgot all of their meaningful interactions he turns around and says annoying, but with a smile this time.

That thank you meant a lot, man. It was not just a thank you for saying I love you.

Sasuke fights naruto to obtain the mangekyo by killing his best friend but then realizes last moment that he being manipulated by his brother and snaps out of it, refusing to kill such a close person.

Sasuke’s encounter with team 7 early part was pretty significant in developing naruto and sakuras friendship as 2 comrades who share the pain of their dear friend gone from their lives, but it also explains sasukes psychological point of view. After having his resolved awakened to a point of obsession again and realizing that there was a time in his life where he cared about other people to the point of giving up that goal, he decides to cut off his bonds with them.

The ‘attack’ on naruto was again for the mangekyo, and sakuras ass would have come out unscathed if she didn’t go all ‘gotta stop this hoe he out here hurting my pals’  but he was hurting her pals and stabbing people ofc she wouldn’t be like yas baby go. He pulls out his sword in defense but yamato ends up getting stabbed, my poor wood boy.

Sasuke takes down orochimaru because in  his constructed moral everything that relates to itachi is bad and senseless killing and torturing( at that time) registered in his head as an itachi thing, which only made his already strong moral code tingle with a strong feeling of ‘im going to take you down you sick son of a bitch, and ill make a bible reference while I am at it’

The lil hawk takes flight and assembles Taka, showing again, a strong moral sense when he says he isn’t going to take anyone by force and he even sets orochimarus captives free. Sasuke is shown to care for Takas safety on multiple occasions but it’s the biggest insult his character receives when people look at him with fan goggles to monopolize him as if he is a cold hearted sadist who only cares for a few people when he is a very selfless, empathetic person. On a personal level though, he did not know their last names, nor did he ask about their history as captives (except for jugo..for obv reasons) so I would not exactly call that emotional investment. But I do think something was there, like they were a hella good team in combat. However,they noticed him going ‘dark’ and never tried to help or stop him so I cant call it a friendship, but I can’t deny it was a team.

After the fight with itachi he is again very emotionally vulnerable and obito hops on his dick to manipulate him, and it works significantly well because sasuke ends up seeing the ENTIRE leaf village as responsible for killing his family after they discriminated against them, and while that might be a wrong train of thought since most people in Konoha are innocent (ten tens worst crime is how little screen time that cutie has), in his now much more jaded, cynical mind it makes a whole lot of sense since it now seems like konoha killed them for their personal benefit and are dancing on their uchiha graves by pretending it never happened and that they never placed the burden of an entire world war on his brothers shoulders.  Everyone is guilty. Everyone is laughing at their deaths. I am a little unstable. I am also a victim. Not to say he isn’t held accountable for his actions because he is a victim but a lot of his character arc and decisions make sense and tie in with his suffering …people going ‘bad’ because of their victimhood is not a new concept you see it with bullies all the time and that is why its important to grasp the situation by the balls and end the circumstance that creates such victims. He also awakens his mangekyo sharingan, meaning he is slowly stepping further into the curse of hatred.

They go to retrieve bee and its shown that he has yet to lose all logical moral reasoning because he still cares for takas safety even though he has declared to crush the leaf, meaning he hates only the leaf atm..all of his concentrated itachi hatred redirected. But he falls a little morally when he captures innocent ass bee and attacks the cloud. That shit was uncalled for, but he was trying to further his plans. I mean suna attacked konoha and its all good in the hood so we could chill. But it wasn’t right.

Ofc however during the bee arc sasuke uses his power that is obtainable through an emotionally driven doujutsu by having an image of team 7 on his mind as he was made to remember when he sees people showing genuine care about him. No matter how far he slipped, seven was always there. Right there, in part 2. The only time sasuke remembers team  7 in a positive light (otherwise he just wants to kill naruto because he stands in the way of his plans) includes sakura and kakashi. You cant argue he doesn’t care cause???

In the 5 kage summit arc a new falling rapidly into the curse of hatred sasuke makes the leap in logic that if his brother who he saw as a good person now, and Konoha which he previously thought to be good could kill on multiple occasions then killing is no longer an off the table option anymore and he warns those samurai before doing the doodly do. He is a bit out of character here, but his change in mind set made him 180. Its an interesting shift in character for a kid whos empathy and moral high ground kept him on the fence of killing in a series where a teacher tells 12 year old kids to come at him with the intent if killing. He seeks out danzo and this is where his motives and pain come into full display  ‘sono migiude teni ireru tameni nanin no uchiha o teni kaketa?’ ‘how many uchihas did you take down in order to get that right arm’

His driving force for his emotions and suffering are lost bonds and a moral burden he still sees himself accountable for.

Ofc this fight features his full descend into the darknes when he stabs Karin and generally looks beyond mentally unstable, this is where his character even though distorted before, goes through a gross distortion where he seems maniacal and just not there. This is bc as an uchiha, the more emotional pain he feels the more hatred he feels ,and the more he uses magic eye level 2.0, the more he loses himself.

Sakura somewhere out there doesn’t know the truth about itachi so sasuke is just acting like a dick wad and attacking innocent villages to her, and to avoid anyone getting hurt, physically or emotionally she burdens herself with killing him in order to save him from going darker. ‘oh but she gave up on him!!111!!!’ like, kakashi did the same thing for obito and at this point her logical order isn’t flawed. Sasuke was by definition an S ranked internationally wanted criminal attacking villages and peace meetings, falling rapidly into a darkness that his past self wouldn’t approve of  and he was getting hunted by every hoe in every country who wanted his ass dead. At least sakura (who again, did not know his reasons and you cant blame her for not knowing) did it to protect the empathetic boy who wouldn’t do something as senseless as attack an innocent man and aid a terrorist organization and to protect naruto emotionally and physically from akatsuki as well as ensure no one gets hurt from him as he is strong. In no way is it her way of being selfish, considering the language she used insinuated she was willing to die right there and then with him. The mission was a complete failure from the start bc hoe can’t kill him and if you truly think she could, I pray for you to find the light.

She shows up ofc and homeboy is suspicious right away, like I know u well enough what u plotting yo?? He knows from the get go shes out here for murder and he goes behind her and almost chidoris her. The factors that go into play here are 1) curse of hatred. 2) she is out for murder, he knows it and turns the table. It’s a low moment for him but that’s the whole purpose behind the scene. The fact that he went behind in the first attack of The Day ™ even though he probably knew he could take her down if he wanted to showed that he still isn’t able to attack face first. That’s not me romanticizing that scene bc ew, but it’s the truth. The look on his face is also not that of the most stable person. Second attack is purely in self defense and he has fallen to the point where he could do it from the front. Naruto shows up and his face shows he knows he done fucked up.

Naruto declares that you are my friend ™ (aaah ano hi no yume..) after sasuke yet again shows how far hes fallen due to the curse, pain and obitos brain washing by some good ol’ evil laughter, shouting he will turn peoples laughter into ‘screams and moans’ (how..awful sounding..to have sasuke make you scream and moan..jokejoke) and sasuke is like fuck u shit how dare u CARE about me ? Stop. And again naruto declares he will stop him and help him to which sasuke pulls an I-listen-to-my chemical romance and bring me the horizon- you don’t understand me!! And although affected by naruto still calling him a friend after all of this, he ends up getting also annoyed by Naruto trying to stop him and leaves thinking give me magic eye level 3.0 I want to kill Missy Elliot in her orange jump suit bc she thinks she will stop me by being my friend. How do I feel about what Naruto said to him that day? Personally, I think he missed the moral perspective of sasuke going crazy (he knew the truth) but he was coming from the right place. They all were. They just wanted him to stop suffering, all of them willed to die with him.

And thus begins their cute chase. Will Naruto fight sasuke first and save him? OR will sasuke kill him first so his ninja jesus light doesn’t stop his plans? Are they going to die together? So much to think about.

Sasuke gets his much deserved confrontation with itachi during the war and this is the healthiest time for them. Itachi no longer sheltered sasuke in a way that was poisonous for the both of them and sasuke asked the questions he deserved answers for. He got them, and an I love you all wrapped with a bow of existential crisis because after the fight with Kabuto, he sees his brother still doing his best for the leaf, still believing kabuto -an evil hoe- could change for the better. And he asks why such a ‘perfect’ person as itachi would still associate with shit like this and itachi is like dude I think you missed the part where I killed your family, tortured and manipulated you. I am not perfect, and neither is the dark world we live in but let me tell you some solid advice  that correlates with the star hax of the arc, the beautiful jutsu that makes no sense : Izanami. The past may be shitty, and we could either run around in an infinite loop suffering because of it, or we could chose to break free, accept what happened and change the future instead of doting on the past. Sasuke is like k cool man I get u but what next? ur jesus talk no jutsu ability is impressive but now I am questioning everything. What do I change? What is right and wrong? What is a village? What is a shinobi? I may not know now, but when I become supreme lord of everything, ill know then haha.

To answer these questions he goes to the One Who Knoweth All, the master of snakes-voldermort with a nose, and revives the kage who basically tell him yeah dude listen our history was fucked, apparently now is fucked, conflict always arises in every age and time its like madara said- you can never look into someones gut.But like maybe the new young generation can deal with it?? deal with ur own fucked up economy, suzan. He also finds out more about why the uchiha were so feared (madara, sharingan, tobirama the little shit, a sticky messy situation kishimoto why are u like this)and Donald trump (tobirama) tells him ur bad bc u love too much tf is wrong with u and sasuke was like fix ur fucking face tattoo u discriminatory bitch. Sasuke comes to the conclusion that he is now a renewed konoha fanboy ‘I wont let this village or my brother go to waste!11!’ because he realizes yeah man history is fucked and I want to change that so no other kid ends up in a situation like mine, full of pain, anger and blind hate.

Shows up on the battlefield, (Sakura, ka? ) and engages in some eye sex with sakura while ignoring others and declares yoyo idc bout what u think of me losers, imma be president. And naruto was like um imma let u finish but im gonna be the greatest hokage of ALL TIME (about that…anyways) . and ensues some team 7 and some naruto and sasuke being the iconic duo they are. It is important remember however, sasuke was at the moment in process of truly cutting all bonds, ensuring he is hated and fully immersing himself into the shadows. Although he is the first to react when sakura is attacked, warns her and kakashi multiple times so they don’t get hurt, saves them from infinite tsukiyomi and double checks on them in the Kaguya dimension, he pretends that like uh idc whatever I don’t care u guys cant even do much, I saved naruto because without him the world would end and u were just there so I saved you

to which naruto calls bullshit and sasuke is like ‘ur ruining my reputation as a heartless bitch’ ah brings back memories..of sasuke pretending to be a heartless bitch.

But like, he could not let her hit the floor so I am sure her hitting lava was a no-no. That moment happens, it was nice. Thank u, for that, kishimoto. And he even says ‘okagede todoita’ ‘thanks to you, I reached’ , nice moment.

After kaguya is over, they even exchange smiles. But nah, sakura, still in tune with sasuke as ever was right not to trust him 100% bc he pulls a IM GOING TO BE SUPREME WORLD LEADER, START A REVOLUTION, KILL THE 5 KAGES AND CAST THE WORLD INTO A NEW FUTURE. I fully support sasuke wanting to change the world that caused people like him, itachi, naruto, nagato, madara, obito, neji etc etc so much pain. I fully support revolution. I don’t want him to kill the 5 kages, but they really aren’t innocent so I understand where he is coming from. Him wanting to put the entire weight of hatred on himself is pretty selfless. It pains me (and naruto) seeing him say he is alone and willing and ready to bear hatred. All of that is valid but see :

dictator

noun

1.    a ruler with total power over a country, typically one who has obtained control by force.

Synonyms:

Autocrat, monocrat, absolute ruler

How a dictatorship works : Dictatorship is a form of government  where a country or a group of countries is ruled by one person or political entity, and exercised through various mechanisms to ensure that the entity’s power remains strong

A dictatorship is a type of Authoritarianism, in which politicians regulate nearly every aspect of the public and private behavior of citizens. Dictatorship and totalitarianism societies generally employ political propaganda to decrease the influence of proponents of alternative governing systems.

Examples of dictators :

·         Adolf Hitler ,dictator of Germany from 1933 to 1945, and Benito Mussolini ,dictator of Italy from 1922 to 1943.

·         Julius Caesar, dictator of Rome.

·         Joseph Stalin, dictator of the Soviet Union from 1929 to 1953.

Sasukes plans :

So, while I do support him wanting change, I don’t think his method was right. Not for the world and not for him and the only person who could communicate that to a boy who is at his core is just lonely, is a boy who was equally lonely but learned the value of comradeship, unity and love. He saw it’s ability to bring about great, good change and he believed he wanted that to continue and not sasukes self destructive autocratic plans.

Anyways, sakura begs him not to slip any further, says that she knows he is in pain but she doesn’t want him suffering any longer but she cant fight him physically like naruto, neither can she convince him to stay even though she loves him so much, however she tries one last time again, hoping maybe his hoe ass will agree that unity is better than separation and sasuke is affected as hell. He shakes, showing once again he is the boy who cares about the people he loves too much.

Gave her a look that would have looked like this without the rinnegan, because he does not want to be alone and anyone who says that is a jackass

She is an annoyance because for a faltering second, she can still after all this time, in part 2 weaken his resolve.

He shows her the genjutsu of him killing her to seal the deal and ensure she hates him, but I doubt he would have ever been able to physically harm her after his head cleared up a bit. A bit.

Kakashi scolds him saying she doesn’t deserve this when all she did was try to help you. literal Japanese translation, Sasuke says ‘ are you suggesting I enjoy ‘renai’’ quite literally ‘romantic love’ in Japanese. He acknowledged the romantic context of their relationship himself. Then he goes on, and I translate literally again ‘I have no reason to love her and she has no reason to love me’, and kakashi calls bullshit by basically stating sasuke, love is not something you have to look for a reason for. The thing you do need excuses and reasons to fill your life with though, is hatred. She is not trying to make you ‘her thing’, she wants to help you no matter how much bad you’ve done her because she loves you so much it makes her suffer. AND IMMEDIATELY he flashes back to the purest love he knows, the love that he never sat down and tried to reason with, the love that caused him suffering. His love for his family. ‘perhaps those are ties to a failed past’..and goes on to kill Naruto bc he is the last friend who will stand in his way.

Hagoromo basically confirms ss will happen when it shots to sakuras face saying ‘love turned to hate’ then kakashi asks ‘so like sasuke is a lost cause?’ hagoromo says ‘not at all I hope naruto and sasuke break the cycle of hate’ then it pans to sasuke saying ‘I hope  hate turns to love’ and since this is a shonen, ofc it did.

Naruto and sasukes fight communicates all of their feelings and experiences and no matter how stubbornly sasuke insists on being alone, naruto is like no bitch I know what that’s like and I refuse to let my brother (from another mother) go through that eternally. And boom bada bim, it took an arm but he got free from the curse of hatred, and they broke the cycle. Sasuke then goes on to say how he always admired naruto to a point where it gave him an inferiority complex, just like itachi. He had a strong will and a power source unknown to sasuke. But one thing he finally fucking learned, is wait yeah man when we were on the same time and you became my comrade I felt your pain too. I saw you guys as my family- fuck right shit the sharing of pain and enduring it together until it comes to pass. That is what I learned from team 7, that is where your source of power comes from and you know what I accept that you learned it a lot earlier than I did. It’s my loss. Naruto is like if ur hoe ass don’t stop with this emo shit ill beat u up again bc YOURE MY FRIEND AAAH and sasuke finally god damn gets what naruto meant by that and the realization that the love he starved for all his life was right there waiting for him to accept it was so earth shattering to him that he cried. Blood connected, pain shared, bond reformed and sasuke wanted to start over. Which is why when he realizes what was meant by sakura loves you so much that seeing you suffer makes her suffer was she loves you unconditionally he fucking asked for that beautiful bond again. After all this mess, there is a reason he apologized only to her. She couldn’t do much for him because she isn’t as strong as he is, but her love was pure and selfless and all she ever wanted for him was happiness and he apologizes for not getting that earlier, for his mistreatment in the war, for the land of iron, for ‘everything up until now’.

We don’t know what happened in the blank period, but all we know is they spent some time together. And he is about to go on a redemption journey, again his own moral

burden but this time it’s to start fresh and check some kaguya traces that worry him. Sakura is all like k but can I come, and he tells her frankly girl no ur too pure for what I did, lemme deal with this first. ‘Mata condo na’ is different from itachis ‘mata condo da’, theyre both delaying something, but the difference with na is that is is definite promise of something inevitable. The forehead poke means the world to sasuke, both the negatives and the positives that came with it and he let it’s legacy carry on but in a positive light. This is a promise of a better tomorrow together, where I am ready and think I am in a position where I completely understand the world without being manipulated or full of hate.(he was so easily manipulated when because he was always kept away from the truth so he had no footing to base thing off) that happens, I’ll be back for you, and that is inevitable. I want this, but on amicable, better terms. And fuck, that happens. Sasuke learned the answer to his question by the end of the series and the final blow of logic was thanks to naruto- a ninja is one who endures until things come to pass. The sharing of pain can be applied to greater things.

He would have to endure a little longer before his redemption comes to pass.By shinden sasuke walks around the best human being, helping people, doing a talk no jutsu, worrying about Konoha but he isn’t sure if he shows up there it would be completely safe from people after him or if everyone is ready to welcome him back and at the end of the novel he receives a letter from naruto that’s like sup yo come back homie I miss ur emo ass also sakura was like ooh hes protecting the village from the outside like a police officer!!11! And sasuke flashes back to his dreams when he was younger and says ‘I guess I should head home’, basically this bitch came back for sakura, and sakuras hiden concludes with him showing up home after he took down the people on the outside of root to come save her (lol but his wife is not a weak woman) and seeing her saying ‘I am home, Sakura.’ ‘Welcome home, Sasuke-kun.’

They travel together probably fucking under stars and shit, got married, had a baby and raised her until Naruto became hokage and sasuke took up a mission only he could do bc he has rinnegan. Obviously this fucking hurt him and he was miserable about it considering he finally gets a family and hes walking his baby girl with his wife one day and the next fate is like ok but if the world ends in 2 minutes and they both like die along with the rest of planet earth haha sasuke I like to shit on ur life. But as he and sakura said it he took up the mission for the future to remain bright and because sakura and sarada are very precious to him. Sakura wasn’t allowed to give out any potentially dangerous information as this mission was top secret so she would avoid questions but still gave her daughter the basic run down ‘vv important he loves u k that’s all I can say’ and she was in general a great mother, shown to be caring, reveal what she could and take care of her sick baby. Sasukes mistake was even though he was doing it for his family, he failed to realize that his daughter still wanted him there. That is why he apologized and told sakura that this mess is not on her.The baby mama drama happens and sakura is like leave it to the child of the man who wanted to be ninja hitler to think she has a different mom bc she wears glasses and jump to 30 conclusions about her dad and I’s relationship, which I’d like to mention gaiden has no ss marriage issues. Sakura and Sasukes bond lives, their feelings are connected, their thoughts and feelings reach each other, they both greatly love and respect each other.. gaiden was about saradas adventure in whys my dad such a jerk and holy shit is this woman my mom land. As it goes on she sees her parents interact, sees the love and respect, the depth of the bond between them and is shown smiling, touched by that. She gets her verification of love and the importance of the mission and why it was done by the end of gaiden, and she even gets a forehead poke (try and make it negative but it gave her tears of joy) and a hug. + a cute ass family photo that she stares at and thinks how her family shares a true link of love. He tries his best to spend time with his family despite such an important mission waiting for him and he promises more if he can. I will defend papa-suke until I fuckin die bc from what we are shown he is a deeply caring dad who actually makes sure his child is happy. And if you are pressed about him leaving without kissing her sakura herself says an expression that means he Is teasing me by making me wait, and like sasuke is a reserved ass boy who grew up very traditionally Japanese, he isn’t about to make out with her on public. He does leave however with a smirk on his face (lil shit is happy he saw his wife and teased her) and a bento (not just a boxed lunch..its made with love by someone very special to you –sarada my bb) in his hand. By boruto he comes in time for the chuunin exams and the light novel literally says sakura has been gleaming and glossing since he came back, a Japanese expression for having lots of sex so the wait was worth it. Boruto defeats Momoshiki in 2 minutes like the op bitch he is and hallelujah sasuke is back with his family and everyone is smiling and happy and loved up. Sasuke looks over his child and student with a gentle smile that he only shows sakura (light novel written by kishi), they stand with each other just watching over their baby girl how cute.

Sasukes character is complex but if you sit down and try to understand him before running your mouth, he is easy to understand. Kishimoto does not owe you shit, he worked hard, he put his work forward and that is it. criticize his work or the dude but don’t pretend to understand a character you misinterpreted better than the author. Sakura was always relevant. This is a little SS input into the character of sasuke. If you need anything else i own most of the series (even tho i got lazy to keep taking pictures lol) and i am pretty fluent in japanese, so come to me if you need anything else. Bye.

[buckybarnesstar]

Take Care Of Her

Request: Hey could you please do an imagine were natasha likes bucky but bucky likes the reader and the reader has a daughter who’s 4 and keeps leaving to pick her up from kindergarten and something sad happens? - @itsjusthaawo

About two years ago, you had joined the Avengers with your daughter. It wasn’t easy being an Avenger and taking care of a 4 year old on top of it. You never knew what to tell your daughter when you came home with cuts and bruises, sometimes broken bones. You just always told her that you were protecting her from evil.

Everyone has grown close to your daughter, treating her as their own. You didn’t mind because sometimes you can slip in a nap or two during the day while she watches Sam and Tony fly in the air, or watch Wanda make her toys “come to life” with her “red floating magic stuff”.

When school time came around and school breaks came to an end, you were pretty sad. It meant not being able to see your daughter all day. You picked her up every single day and the smile on her face and her little wobbly run made it worth it.

You were waiting for the clock to strike 2:00 so you can make your way to your daughters school. You were getting your bag ready when you heard voices talking. You stepped closer to the door, hearing Bucky and Natasha talking to each other.

A sigh escaped Nat’s lips. “I just really like you Bucky. I’ve liked you for a long time. I thought you liked me back, but I see why you never made a move. Y/N is a great choice.” You heard her say, her voice was sad and you could tell she was hurting. You frowned at what she said, feeling for your friend.

What surprised you was that she said Bucky liked you instead of her. Why would he choose you over her? You love your daughter, as does everyone, but wouldn’t Bucky prefer someone who doesn’t have one so he didn’t lose so much freedom? Raising a child is a lot of work and stress on top of missions and important duties.

Also, Nat is very intelligent, she’s an amazing fighter, she’s funny, and definitely has the looks. You would’ve thought they’d end up together the way she jokes around with Bucky. But you realize now that he indeed never made a move on her. He never paid her that attention.

You’ve liked Bucky for a while now but you weren’t sure how to address it. Especially since your daughters father isn’t in her life as much as before. She asks about him, so you didn’t think bringing a new manly face into the picture would be a good thing. Sure, she’s used to the men in the tower, but she’s very smart and would know the difference between a friendly man and a romantically involved man. You’ve stopped dating altogether. It’s only been you and her since.

Bucky sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Nat. I really am.” Bucky apologized. You heard his footsteps approaching and you quickly turned back to your bag, stepping away from the door. You checked the clock again and you had ten minutes left before you had to go pick up your daughter. You zipped your bag and heard Bucky enter the room.

You turned to look at him, your heart beating fast. “Hey, Bucky.” You said with a smile, acting as if you weren’t just eavesdropping on him and Natasha. He looked up at you and instantly smiled back. “Hi. You leaving?” Bucky asked, looking at the bag that’s now on your shoulder.

You picked up your keys and nodded. “I have to pick the hell raiser up, remember?” You said with a giggle. “Oh yeah. Would, um, do you mind if I go? I need some fresh air.” Bucky said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You raised your eyebrows, shocked at what Bucky just asked. Nobody has ever gone with you to pick your daughter up.

“Sure, that’d be fine.” You said with a wider smile. Bucky breathed out and smiled. “Good. Well let’s go get her!” He said happily. You giggled and you both left the tower, getting in your car and driving off.

You were stuck in traffic, of all things. You had a long line of cars ahead of you and you were anxiously tapping on your steering wheel. You felt off and you didn’t know why. Something was wrong but you ignored it and focused on the road ahead of you.

Bucky could tell you were nervous as he was watching you from the corner of his eye in the passenger seat. “We’ll get there, Y/N.” Bucky said softly. You sighed, shaking your head. “I know, I’m just never this late. Why aren’t they moving?” You wondered, rolling down your window to get a better view of the line of traffic.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just traffic. You decided not to take your normal way to the school and now you were deeply regretting it. You thought you’d get there quicker but it wasn’t happening today. You sighed heavily, checking the time on your radio clock. It was 2:25 and they let kids out at 2:30.

Bucky reached his metal arm over to rest his hand on yours. You took comfort in the cool temperature since your nerves were making your body heat rise. “Y/N, it’s okay.” Bucky reassured you. You nodded, feeling your nerves start to calm down. Having Bucky here made you feel a little better.

You leaned your head against your seat and the cars started to slowly move up. “Finally.” You breathed a sigh of relief. You followed behind, feeling even better now that you were moving along. Bucky’s hand now moved to your thigh but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t sexual, it was comforting.

A few minutes later, and you were smooth sailing. You were fifteen minutes late to picking your daughter up and you hoped she wasn’t an emotional mess. You were always on time. Bucky’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire time, seeing that it calmed you down.

Your stomach sank when you saw the empty strip where parents picked up their children. “Bucky.” You said quietly, leaning further up in your seat. You pulled around to the front entrance and the place was empty except for the principle’s car and a few others that belonged to the staff.

You inhaled shakily and thought maybe she was waiting inside the school with the principal. Bucky was on high alert now, searching the area out of his window for any sign of danger. You pulled up and stopped your car, putting it in park before stepping out.

The wind blew some of your hair into your face as you looked around the front area of the school. Bucky crossed around to your side and grabbed your hand, his own nerves getting to him. “Let’s go.” He said as you walked to the doors.

You walked inside, the school smelling like finger paint and crayons. You walked over to the principles office after not seeing a teacher waiting with your daughter. Your hands were starting to shake as you thought of the worst possible outcome.

The principle looked up at you from her papers and smiled. “Hello, how may I help you?” She asked, taking her glasses off, letting them dangle from her glasses chain. “I’m late picking up my daughter. She isn’t-I don’t see her here.” You said softly and Bucky rubbed your hand with his thumb.

The principles eyebrows furrowed. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N, right? A man said he was your husband and he took her.” She said as she looked between you and Bucky. You gasped and held your hand to your chest. Her father is back. Bucky looked down at you and held you close, his hand resting on your lower back.

The principle stood to her feet when she saw your reaction. “I’m so sorry. He said you were running late and let him come get her. Oh no.” She panicked and you swear your legs felt like jelly. Your ex husband was a bad man and you always told the team to watch out for him anytime they went out, just in case. You haven’t seen him in years, not since you escaped Hydra. Bucky’s hands tightened around yours and he pulled you out of the school building.

Tears filled your eyes and your breathing was coming out in short heavy exhales. Bucky stopped and turned to you, his hand resting on your cheek. “Y/N, focus. She’ll be fine. I need to know where you think she is.” Bucky said, grabbing your keys from your hand. You wracked your brain, thinking of any possible place he could’ve taken her.

You sobbed and smacked your hand against your forehead. “I don’t know!” You said, your voice breaking. Your daughter was probably terrified, she hasn’t seen her father in years. How could the principle not call you to confirm that information? You were angry, scared, and helpless all at once.

Bucky quickly put you in the passenger seat and rushed around to the drivers seat. Bucky gave you your phone and cranked your car, speeding out of the area. “Call Steve. Get everyone out searching.” Bucky told you, his hands gripping your steering wheel.

Your eyes were blurry from the tears but you quickly speed dialed Steve’s number. He answered on the second ring. “Y/N!” Steve yelled as you yelled his name. “Steve, my daughter-” You sobbed into the phone and Steve cut you off. “It’s all over the News. Y/N, your ex husband is- he’s-Y/N, meet us at the address I’m going to text you. Okay?” Steve said before the line cut off.

Your heart dropped and you sobbed uncontrollably. “What did he say?” Bucky asked, a low growl in his voice. You could tell Bucky was angry. “He-he’s giving me an address. It’s live on the News.” You managed to choke out. Bucky grabbed your phone and read the address, quickly speeding after dropping your phone in his lap.

The car ride seemed longer than it actually was and you couldn’t control your crying. Your daughter was in danger and you had no idea what was about to happen. All you knew is that you needed to focus and be strong for your daughter. You couldn’t let her down.

Bucky slammed on the brakes and rushed out of the car, you following closely behind. Bucky gathered weapons from a hidden compartment in your trunk and gave you a handgun. Putting in your comm, you sniffled and looked up at Bucky. He watched you closely, grabbing two more guns for him to use.

Bucky leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’re going to get her back, Y/N. I’ll be damned if I let her get hurt.” Bucky said, his voice soft yet stern. You nodded and pulled away, looking around the area. You could see people running around and the News van a couple feet away. “Come on.” Bucky said, grabbing your hand in his.

You both ran towards the crowd and saw Tony flying around up near the tallest building in the area. Your stomach dropped and you saw Steve standing outside of the building. “Steve!” Bucky yelled out, catching his attention. Steve ran over to you two and it looks like he had been crying. “Bucky, Y/N. Your daughter, William has her.” Steve said, confirming everything.

You let out a sob and suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. “Y/N, we’re going to get her, I promise. We don’t know what he has planned, but-” A loud intercom in the area sounded through the air. You all three looked to the sound and saw your ex husband with your daughter near the edge of the building. He was holding her on his side and if you listened closely, you could hear her crying for you.

William turned on his mic and Steve ran off, leaving you and Bucky to watch. “My dearest Y/N,” William started to speak, “Come back home to me, my love.” He continued, making your stomach twist. Bucky growled and cocked his gun. “Stay here. I’m about to kill that bastard.” Bucky placed a kiss on your head but you stayed still, staring up at the scene before you.

You quickly grabbed Bucky’s arm before he left. “No! No, this is my problem. Let me go up there.” You said, tears filling your eyes again. Bucky looked at you and shook his head. “There’s no way, Y/N!” He said, his blue eyes staring into yours. You sighed and looked up to William. “Times wasting!” William called out, your daughter squirming in his arms. Tony sighed into the comm. “We can’t fight him, he could end up dropping her off.” Tony said, his voice sad.

Bucky growled, looking up at William. “You’re not going alone.” Bucky said, turning back to you. You quickly pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “I’m not arguing over this. Stay here.” You said, turning and running into the building. Bucky stood outside, calling over some of your teammates. You ran up the stairs as fast as you could, finally making it up to the top.

You pushed the door to the roof open and your daughter screamed out, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Mommy! Mommy!” She screamed, reaching her little arms out for you. You held back a sob and bravely walked over to William. You stood a few feet away, seeing Tony and Sam hovering in the sky in the distance. “Y/N, just be careful.” Sam said. You sighed, “I will.” You said quietly.

William smirked at you and patted your daughters leg. “Nice to see you again, Y/N. It’s been too long. Tell me, how is it working for the Avengers?” William sneered, his eyes staring right into yours. You scoffed and wiped at your cheeks. “Forget about that. Give me my daughter back.” You said, your voice slightly shaking. William tsked and shook his head. “You see, she’s my daughter, too.” William said, touching your daughters cheek. “Isn’t that right?” He cooed.

Your stomach turned when your daughter recoiled and used her tiny hands to move William away. “Mommy!” She cried again. You stepped towards her and William took a step backwards, getting closer to the edge of the building. You stood still and looked at William pleadingly. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Just let her go.” You begged, your eyes blinking away more tears.

William sighed out, tapping his chin. “Come home to me.” William said, his eyebrows quirked. You scrunched your nose up in disgust and decided you just needed to trick him into thinking you’d go with him. Then Tony and Sam can take care of him. You slowly stepped towards William. “Fine. But my daughter stays with the Avengers.” You said, standing tall and crossing your arms. “What!? No, Y/N!” Wanda screamed into the comm.

You frowned and sighed again. “Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Bucky yelled next, the sound of his running in the background. You knew he was coming up now, you could hear his heavy boots climbing up the stairs. William bent down and put your daughter on the concrete. She ran to you, her legs carrying her straight into your arms. You instantly started crying again as you picked her up in your arms, your handgun dropping to the ground beside you.

Your daughter clung to you and gripped onto your hair tightly. “Mommy!” She cried into your shoulder. You held her close and sniffled. “You’re okay, sweetie.” You said, gently caressing her soft hair. Bucky suddenly burst through the door and you quickly turned to him. Bucky rushed over to you and pulled you into a hug, your daughter pressing closer to you. “Y/N, please, don’t do this.” Bucky begged you, pulling away as he looked at you.

Your daughter whimpered and reached for Bucky. “Daddy!” She yelled, reaching for Bucky. You gave her to Bucky and she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck tightly. Bucky’s lip quivered and he held her close, his metal hand gently cradling her head. “You’re okay, little doll.” Bucky said, not minding of what she just called him. He kissed her temple gently. You heard William clear his throat. “I’m waiting.” He said in a menacing voice.

Bucky looked over at William and sighed heavily. “I have a plan.” You said, whispering to Bucky, loud enough for everyone to hear. “What is it?” Steve asked, standing below with Nat, Clint, and Wanda. Vision had joined Tony and Sam in the air, and you took a deep breath. “Just let me go to him and as soon as I get there, just kill him. Simple.” You said, lightly shrugging your shoulders. Bucky looked down at you, his eyebrows creased. “Let’s do this.” Tony said, readying his suit hands.

You placed a kiss on your daughters cheek, then Bucky’s. You walked away, heading back to William. As you were walking, he crossed his arms and smirked at you. You sighed and stood in front of William, your eyes glancing up at Tony. William gripped your arm and you knew it was time. “Go!” You called out, signaling Tony and the others to start attacking. They flew down and William turned around just in time to let you go and Sam to punch him in the face.

You turned to run away, but William quickly grabbed you. “Stop or I’ll shoot her!” William yelled out, pulling you into the front of his body, facing the three Avengers. You gasped and your heart started beating fast in your chest. “William, you need to let her go.” Vision said, holding his hands up in front of him. You felt the gun pressing against your side. “I don’t fucking think so.” William spat.

He jerked you up more, digging the gun into your side. “William, please.” You sobbed, thoughts of you and your daughter rushing through your mind. “Tony, do something!” Bucky yelled through his comm. “I can’t let her little girl go! DO SOMETHING!” He yelled out, sobbing into his comm. You closed your eyes and let a few tears go. Tony rushed over to William and that’s when you felt it.

You felt the bullet pierce through your skin and the collective screams in your comm from your teammates. Tony shot at William, shooting him down as you slipped onto your knees, your vision blurry. “Y/N!” Voices screamed all at once, the sound faint but still there. You rolled onto your back and looked down, seeing a pool of blood at your side. Bucky ran over to you, the others following him.

They all fell to their knees around your body and Clint took your daughter from Bucky, turning her away from the scene before the others. “Oh my God.” Bucky said, his hand putting pressure on your wound. You struggled to breathe, every gasp for air shooting pain through your body. “B-Bucky. I’m so sorry.” You rasped, feeling yourself fading. “Y/N, don’t you do this to me!” Bucky pleaded, his voice cracking. The others were holding each other, crying as they looked at you.

You coughed, blood splattering out. “Please, take care of her.” You said, your eyes blurry from your tears. Bucky kept putting pressure on your wound. “Tony, fuck, do something! Help her!” Bucky yelled. Tony sobbed and wiped the hair from your forehead. “She’s lost too much blood.” He said, his voice low. You coughed again, taking a deep breath. “She needs you guys. I-I can’t-” You said, looking up at Bucky, your voice failing you now.

Bucky shook his head and Steve held your hand, leaning down to press a kiss to your head. “We love you, Y/N.” Steve said as he choked on a sob. You smiled despite your body shutting down. “I love you guys. Bucky, I-I’ve always loved you.” You said, turning your head to Bucky. His face was red and his eyes were filled with tears.

You took one final breath and felt yourself slipping into darkness forever.

Note: I GOT CARRIED AWAY, SORRY IT’S SO LONG. thanks for the request! I made it sad for you, I hope you don’t hate me, hehe. enjoy! feedback is welcome! .c

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