#that important moments like this are given just a few lines

[obsidianary]

Watching as everyone on socmed loses their mind over the monument leak .... guys, can we please be serious for a moment? Cap obviously isn't going to die. (Leaks mentioned below).

First off, we have no clue what the monument is for. At all. But based on the information on it, we know that it's dedicated to the fallen soldiers of both Natlan and clearly Khaenri'ah, given that it has the nation's symbol on it and the statement of "Children of Pride, sing your final song". Khaenri'ah was called the pride of humanity, and the second part is rather obvious. It depicts six Saurians, Capitano, and a soldier (who we can presume to be Gunthred, or just a general representation).

Either way, thinking realistically on lore history and motivation. Yes, the Captain is on this memorial. No, not because he will die, but because he was involved in the conflict and it was his platoon that passed away; He's the only one alive to remember them anymore. If it were dedicated to Capitano passing, I'd like to point out that it would make no sense to not include the Fatui soldiers that would pass along with him, nor the Traveler. I saw some people questioning why he's clearly dressed the same on the mural as his present in-game style, and I'd like to point out a few things: First off, he's clearly trying very hard to avoid being recognized. Second, the memorial is very basic in design and the only unique features on him are the gauntlet and helmet, both of which likely came from Khaenri'ah in the first place and are of Khaenri'an design (and I don't see how it wouldn't make sense that he kept a piece of his history this long, nevermind the fact that I doubt the Fatui would be able to replicate Khaenri'an military gear to begin with). As for motivation to put this up? Capitano stated pretty clearly that he loves Natlan and treasures it, for obvious reason, and we're all aware of how much he values honor and respect. Having the opportunity to put up a memorial for his fallen comrades isn't out of character.

Last chunk here, can we just think about his importance lore-wise? Being blunt here and glazing a little, probably, but this is the FIRST Harbringer. He's a Khaenri'an survivor, a gentleman, military figure, and on good terms with the traveler and an Archon. Let's be real for a moment. In the case they kill him off at any point in the story, it clearly won't be permanently; the scenario in that case would be a self sacrifice to pay a debt or save someone he cares for and either way it would result in him being revived. That's likely how we'll be getting a face reveal to begin with, they're obviously going to find a way to cleanse the rot away first (unfortunately). Character importance aside, and turning to leaks, he has a playable sword model. He has the square character icon and card, alongside the circular icon. There's character lines about him. There's empty spots in the Natlan lineup roster. For God's sake, he was in the Naltan trailer, and it's a fact that Hoyo puts playable characters in their trailers in every single nation.

So please, let's take a breath.

[hopetune]

She finds a pen somewhere on the piano and begins transcribing Furina's hums, eyes occasionally shifting upward to the starless sky. Robin had anticipated another surrender of another heart, but this turn of events was something she'd happily accept. A small smile begins to stretch across her face. "It's a great start. I do like what Mr. Kaveh mentioned about the stars—if we arpeggiate the notes it could sound like soft twinkling... perhaps it could comfort her."

The composition is finished after a few more moments, and Robin gently slides the sheets onto the piano's music shelf. The girl startles at this, looking around for who might have given it to her. Then, she sets her fingers down onto the piano and begins plucking away at the keys. Her technique is solid—each measure is played with precision, though it's just that. Precise, technical. There is none of the emotional nuance of the composition. When the performance finishes, the girl is quiet for a moment before speaking up:

“Is someone there? Did you write this? It’s very good, I… hope I played it well for you.”

Robin doesn't know if this girl will hear her but she speaks anyway. "We did. We wrote it just for you. You played wonderfully, but... there's a lot of tension in your fingers"

The girl evidently does not hear her, as the girls before her were unable to hear. 

Furina speaks up. "It appears we cannot cure her of her affliction. Her playing..." she shakes her head. "There's none of the emotion we were hoping for in this piece."

Of course two seasoned performers would take notice. Robin frowns. "Indeed. Maybe Alor was right. Perhaps there's nothing else we can do aside from offer our heart."

But she still wants to try. At least the girl seems to be able to read what they write. So she picks up the pen and quickly writes on the music sheet: 'Good technique. But can you try playing this piece while looking back on a memory you have? It can be sad or happy.'

The girl blinks at the writing that appears. “A memory… ” she repeats, before closing her eyes and playing a few measures. After a while, she stops, shaking her head. “If i distract myself with a memory, I miss notes… my teacher always tells me that the notes are more important than what they mean. ”

Robin writes again: 'Perfection isn't everything. A song is always meant to carry the emotions of whoever is performing it. Please, try letting go of that notion, even for a few measures, and see what difference that makes.'

Beside her, she hears Furina comment. "Goodness, well that's the heart of the problem then."

Robin looks at Furina with a sad but agreeing nod. "Some teachers are no good at all…" she looks back at the sheet music, "Ah, is there anything else we can tell her?"

"Tell her that her teacher isn't here anyway." Furina says, "Who's it going to hurt?"

Robin smiles slightly at this. She's right: who's it going to hurt? "That's a good point." Then she writes another line in the sheet music. 'Your teacher isn't here right now. It wouldn't hurt to try, would it?'

The girl is hesitant at first. "But…” eventually, she plays once more. The feeling is more apparent, though not in the explosive, raw, visceral way that it usually is. This seemed more like a whisper of that emotion, the effort to reach for the stars as opposed to the stars itself. Still, Robin finds it to be a good improvement.

The girl stops after a few more measures, face tight and doubtful. "Was that… did I..?"

"Just like that," she hears Furina say. "Technique can be learned, but feeling can't. And that's what separates art from mere replicative craft. Any meka can plunk out notes on a piano. but only a feeling heart can play."

Robin claps her hands together, smiling. "You've put it aptly, Miss Furina. This is the beauty of art... It's human." she says, before remembering again that they can't be heard. She writes: 'That was much better. How did that make you feel?'

The girls shakes her head slightly, "Like nobody would wish to hear it, if I did play that way more often. The mistakes, they… they’re all I hear. ”

The songstress feels something tug in her chest. She recalls feeling similar when she was younger, when her teachers were harsh and she had little skill. It was only through the encouragement of her brother that she was able to rise to the stage. A moon is only ever the reflection of whatever light the sun gives it. So she writes:  'I loved hearing it. So did my companions. Sometimes the mistakes are what make a song beautiful. Maybe you don't believe me now, but you'll realize this is true eventually.'

"Maybe…" the girl doesn't sound too convinced. Robin wonders if there's more she can tell her to make her feel otherwise, but it is here that she realized the upsetting truth of the matter: the girl is unable to feel anything at all, and a song is sometimes, most times, never enough to save someone. The songstress' throat feels tight, as though the jagged pieces of lilac-stained glass in her fist had lodged itself in her mouth.

Alor was right.

˚ʚ [ THREAD END ] ɞ˚

give little anguish

˚ʚ [ #GHSecondSky — week 2 ] ɞ˚

[gece-misin-nesin]

Siegfried reuniting w his daughters was such a rushed scene. With how finding her father was a big part of Kiana's motivation in the early chapters and how badly they left things off, I was expecting a more tearful reunion you know? Like "I'm sorry"s and "I missed you so much"s. Also with Bianka...like she just said some random ass poetic bullshit. If they hadn't told me she was his dauughter before I would NOT have understood it in that scene. Also them just brushing over the fact that the og Kiana is back?? Siegfried reuniting w his daughter who was lost and possibly dead after years and he's just like "yeah cool" like wtf??? The writers of Moon Arc when I catch you..

[rin-may-1103]

Biggest Regret. (Part Two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Bruce had finally found a peaceful moment to sit down and go through his work emails; there were no sibling homicide fights, prank wars, and thankfully no vigilante-related headaches.

Just a peaceful afternoon; normal polluted Gotham skies, the usual city ruckus of honking horns and shouting, and the constant footsteps back and forth past his closed office door.

taking a sip from his old mug, Bruce opened his laptop. Quickly typing in his password for the hour, he made his way to his email. surprisingly, less than 90 emails were waiting for him. Usually, he had hundreds to go through.

hmmm. Another check for this being a suspiciously good day then, it just made him more anxious for when the other shoe would fall.

peaceful for Gotham, for him, never meant anything good. It always happened right before a tragic event or large-scale Arkham breakout. he could hope for it to just be a peaceful day, but he knew wishful thinking was useless.

taking another sip, Bruce started scrolling through his emails, reading the subject lines to sort through which ones were more important. After a few minutes of reading, Bruce stopped and reread the second to last email's title, his eyebrows furrowing:

A Video From Your Son.

Now, Bruce was truly confused; Why would one of his kids email him? let alone through his public work email? They've been told multiple times to email him through the bat-email if it contains anything important or time-sensitive. Heck, they've been told to just text him it if it was important, he always answers a text faster than an email.

His Bruce Wayne email was notoriously ignored for multiple days; mostly for his cover story, but also because he spends most of his time doing Batman stuff. (Reading Wayne Enterprises emails usually wasn't something at the top of his list, the kids know this.)

so, then why would one of them email him?

hmm. maybe? maybe one of the boys set up a long-term prank or something. They know how long it takes for him to read his emails, so maybe they sent it knowing it would take a while, which means they had plenty of time to set something up.

yes, that's it. it makes total sense.

Clicking on the email, he was greeted with a boy (who looked a lot like Damian, but who most certainly wasn't) sitting gravely on a wooden box in some dark warehouse.

sitting up straight, Bruce set his mug down and studied the paused video. the boy looked so much like Damian that Bruce almost wanted to believe he was a clone. but his bright stern blue eyes and and apparent freckles pushed the idea away.

Yes, clones can have imperfections, especially when made in a rush, but never something as drastic as the wrong eye color or a genetic quality the one being cloned didn't have. Unless, the one making the clone had no idea what they were doing, but Bruce doubted Talia would have allowed someone to take Damian's DNA before he was given to Bruce.

and the boy on screen had scars, lots of scars, meaning if he was a clone then he was made before Bruce even knew of Damian.

hmm.

there were no clues provided in the kid's surroundings; the warehouse was surprisingly empty of anything important or telling. the kid had even chosen a spot where Bruce couldn't tell if it was day or night, or if the lights were on. which took away the usual ways of figuring out where the boy was.

No sky meant he couldn't calculate the general area based on season and celestial bodies. And because he couldn't tell if the light was from industrial lighting or daylight, he couldn't cross out warehouses with electricity. The kid was smart. smarter than the average citizen at least.

he was also wearing discreet clothing; which meant Bruce couldn't trace him through that either.

leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, Bruce pressed play and gave the video his full attention.

The boy on screen sat in silence for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. his hands rested in his lap, his poster rather relaxed as he sat on his wooden crate.

"This is video eight." the boy spoke, his voice rough with sleepless nights and yelling. Did he yell at people often? or had he gotten into a fight previously? there were seven other videos, but this was the first one Bruce saw. he'd have to go back and see if he had somehow missed them.

"don't worry, you didn't miss anything." the boy chuckled humorously, running one of his hands through his hair. Bruce noted that it shook, the kid was probably nervous, or hungry. the kid looked too skinny to be healthy...

"no, this is just the eighth time I've had to record this." the boy continued, dropping his hand back into his lap as he slumped forward, his black hair falling into his face.

"this video," he continued, not glancing up, "is for Bruce Wayne's eyes only."

there were still no visual tells on where the boy was, not even audio cues for Bruce to study. frowning, Bruce rested his head on his hands, taking in everything the boy said.

"Hi Dad," Bruce sucked in a breath, tensing up as the kid finally glanced back at the camera.

"I'm Danny. you likely don't know I exist, and if you're receiving this; I'm already dead." he chuckled like the thought of his death was laughable. "well, more dead than I already was." he snorted, shaking his head in a way that reminded Bruce of Damian when he was exasperated or disappointed.

"Maybe it's cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem," Danny, the kid's name is Danny, looked away. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he continued, "But you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would've put you in danger."

Danny let out a breath as he pulled his legs up onto the crate, "this email is set to automatically send if I haven't opened my laptop for three days. I sometimes set it longer if I'm expecting trouble or going to be away for a while, but I've most likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you're receiving this."

Danny looked so tired as he looked back at the camera, the dark bags under his eyes worse than even Tim's after a week-long investigation.

"I don't know who killed me. Obviously, I'm recording this in advance... I have my suspicions though. it was most likely either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons." Danny reached beside him and held up a two pictures, "This is Maddie and Jack Fenton, and this," another picture, "is some GIW agents."

Danny snorted as he glanced at the GIW agents, their startled faces slightly blurry as Danny stood in front of them and took a selfie. bruce wasn't sure if he was amused or not that the kid took a selfie with his potential murderers but then again, Bruce could see all of his children doing it too. (Bruce could also see himself doing it.)

"i half-died at 14," Danny suddenly added, tossing the pictures to the side. "became the local ghost superhero..."

he stared off to the side for a moment, "but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost me apart molecule by molecule." Danny glanced back at the camera before his eyes widened, "my parents! I mean, my parents and the GIW wanted to tear me apart, not the town! though they probably wouldn't have disagreed with it if asked..."

"anyway," Danny shook his head, "my money's on that being what happened..." Danny looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time, "there will be nothing left of me to bury..."

"Sorry about that!" he suddenly added, a bright smile on his face. Bruce could tell it was strained, forced in hopes of not upsetting him.

"you'd probably have to cremate me if there was, it'd be a waste of wood to get me a coffin... though I'd really prefer if I wasn't set on fire," Danny chuckled, trying to hide a full-body shiver.

He sat in silence for a moment before Danny continued, "The rest of the story is this: I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of nine. they sent me on a mission and I just had to take the opportunity. I successfully faked my death."

Danny sat up now, fully focusing on the camera, "My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that's the reason I'm reaching out to you."

Danny let his feet fall off the edge as he grabbed something from next to him, keeping it out of view for now. "you're a civilian," Danny stated like it was a fact he knew to be true.

Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself still so he could focus on what Danny was telling him. he wished he could reach through the screen and hold the boy, whether he was his son or not, he obviously was talking about the league which meant Talia hadn't told him.

Talia hadn't told him, and if he was anything like Damian, then he would have no reason to believe otherwise.

"If you know too much about the League of Assassins you'll be in danger, but I need you to save my twin Damian." Danny's words were like a final nail in the coffin, the final straw to keeping his heart from breaking again.

it was true, it had to be. How would Danny have this information otherwise?

"he's likely still there after all these years. he never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. he's probably going to be stabby: he's an assassin after all, but it's not his fault. Ra's, our grandfather, indoctrinated him a lot more successfully than he did me. Damian was more susceptible to it... it's not his fault." Danny repeated, clenching the object he had grabbed.

"Please," Danny pleaded, "save him. I'm begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please take it."

Danny bit his lip and glanced down at his lap, "I w-," he quickly glanced around before shaking his head, "I long for a time when it would have been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I've seen of you on the news with your oldest kids."

he looked up with a water smile, "I bet you're like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I still don't know how you managed that, it's been six years." Danny chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This is my, um, my old league sigil." Danny held up the object he had been holding, revealing a golden disk with thick rope connected to it. it had the demon head's symbol on it.

"A coat of arms. I'll leave it somewhere for you. hopefully, you can use it to get to Damian." Danny gently placed it back on the box. "I'm keeping it in a box in the walls of my room. You should be able to find it."

"I wish you and your family the best," Danny sniffed, looking back at the camera. "thank you for listening. From your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton."

Bruce stared at the paused video for a minute, just trying to process everything he just saw. he needed confirmation, he knew it was true, it had to be, there's no way Danny could fake this. but Bruce needed to confirm. make sure he isn't seeing things.

absently, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed his youngest's, was he still the youngest? or was Danny? number.

the tone didn't even ring longer than five seconds before his son's voice echoed into the silent office, "Father."

"Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?" Bruce asked, not cutting around the bush.

dead silence, he couldn't even hear Damian's breath.

then, "...Who told you?"

Damian's voice wasn't angry or fearful, it was sad and confused and wavered like the last leaf on a tree clinking on for dear life in a blizzard. it cemented the break in Bruce's heart as he stared at the tearful face of his son, his son who claimed to be dead already.

hanging up, Bruce quickly sent the video to Damian and waited. he needed a minute to process what just happened. Clicking play, Bruce rewatched the video, hoping to find another clue.

Damian called back a few minutes later, the sound of Danny's voice echoing in the background telling Bruce his son had watched and rewatched the video just like he had.

"Father. I do not care what state he is in, even if there is only a single molecule left. I'm going to bring him home. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny, the truth."

"I couldn't agree more, Damian," Bruce grunted, standing up. Pushing his chair in, he turned his laptop off and made his way to his office door. "I'll be home soon, gather the others. tell them all hands on deck."

"yes, Father," Robin replied, hanging up not even a second later.

Shoving his phone in his pocket and opening his office door, Batman started making his way home.

Next

[morganas-pendragons]

sweet and soft | elrond peredhel

okay LISTEN

I read this prompt about the elves ears DAYS ago and it has not left me alone. it being their most sensitive part of their body along with touching their ears meaning you want courtship.... and I then had a dream about this with Elrond

not a drop of angst in here, I want to kiss him so bad

enjoy!

***

Sunlight cradles the two of you from where you sit among the gardens in Lindon. It is a rare day where the High King has given Elrond reprieve from his duties as Herald, and you both took the opportunity to spend the time together in the gardens where you’d met.

Elrond only had one condition: You had to play for him. As your skill with a violin was renowned, you’d earned your place as High King Gil-Galad’s violinist who was often called upon for important events. It was what had initially drawn Elrond to you, seeing you playing at Gil-Galad's feast.

That was almost six months ago. Now you find yourself enraptured by the Half-Elven man with his head in your lap, your fingers idly carding through unruly curls as you recite lines of poetry from the book he’d brought to read.

Your first mistake in being so engrossed in your poetry is that you miss Elrond’s breathing hitch when your fingers ghost the tips of his ears. He is aware, as are you, what the implications are behind touching the ears of another elf. Elrond has never made the depth of his feelings for you known.

He is cognizant of one detail, at minimum. Elrond wants to court you.

He is also aware that his cheeks are burning as he turns to press his head into your thigh.

Your fingers curl just beneath the neckline of his shirt before dancing upward once again and repeating the same motion. Out of the corner of his eye, Elrond catches the faint smile upturning your lips as you peer down to meet his gaze. His eyes are astonishing already, but washed in the glow of the morning sun, he almost seems as if he is sent straight from the Valar themselves.

“Is something wrong, Elrond?” You ask innocently. He reaches up to snap the poetry book shut, allowing him the opportunity to sit up and face you. “I thought you were enjoying the poetry. This is our weekly routine, after all.”

He takes those next few beats of silence to allow his eyes to sweep across your face. Elrond has known you to be somewhat of a mischievous person, feigning innocence and naivety in situations where repercussions are demanded if fault is admitted.

“I was simply admiring the person who chooses to spend their waking hours with me instead of making practical use of their time,” Elrond remarks, voice stuttering as you curled your fingers into the lengthening curls at his temples to tug him close to you. “And how devious you are.”

You grin widely at him. Elrond is the only person you have ever allowed yourself to be genuine with. Being in Gil-Galad’s favor means that you so often have to wear a practiced facade of grace and poise. There is no room for child like behaviors.

Being with Elrond allows you to truly, truly embrace the very being of who you are. That is one of the many characteristics you have come to love about him.

“Me? Devious? Surely you are joking." You tease. "All I did was-“

He catches your hand before you can do it again. The two of you sit there in silence for a brief moment as you stare at your hand caught in his own. It’s the first time he’s really taken it. Sure, the two of you have walked with one another in these gardens plenty of times, but only as friends.

You have wanted Elrond for what feels like lifetimes. For the sake of yourself and for him as parts of Gil-Galad’s court, you chose to love him from afar. You didn’t want to impose upon Elrond. He already carried enough.

However, given the way he’s looking at you, part of you quietly wonders if he feels the same way and chose not to speak it for fear of your rejection.

Elrond takes each one of your fingers and spreads them apart, laying a kiss on each fingertip before enclosing your hand with his own. Your breath stuttered in your chest as he leaned impossibly closer.

“You know what it means to touch the ears of another elf,” Elrond said lowly. It almost sounds like barely concealed restraint. “Do not tread upon a path you do not wish to walk down.”

You hum softly and grab his chin with your fingers so he will look at you. Trepidation lingers in the depths of the gray irises that stare back into yours. “And if it is a path I wish to tread upon?” You whisper. “Let it be my choice.”

Elrond shudders as your fingers trail upward to tangle in his hair again, and he finds himself unable to breathe as you slowly shift your positions so you can settle yourself into his lap. It's a bold move considering you have done little else outside of resting your head on his shoulder and holding his arm as you venture Lindon's gardens. You're quietly praying that you have not overstepped a boundary.

Elrond doesn’t push you away. He welcomes it. He welcomes you.

He tries to focus on the sights around him to avoid the fear of disappointing you lingering in the back of his mind. You are a sight to behold among Lindon’s gardens. Despite the wonders of the sights around him, none of the flora and fauna that have grown here over the centuries are comparable to you.

“Hey,” You call softly. “Where did you go, nin mel?”

Elrond is not usually one to fumble over his words, but they roll off his tongue before he can stop his rambling, “I do not want to bring any disappointment if I am not what you wish me to be.”

You’d be lying if you said the statement didn’t make you melt. He was so earnest and sweet when it came to ensuring he lived up to what other people wanted but so often gave himself such little credit. “Elrond,” You began, taking his hands into your own to press them against your waist. “I have wanted you for so long. You could never disappoint me, meleth nin.”

You bend your head to the juncture where his jaw meets his neck and place a kiss thereupon. As you anticipate, Elrond groans low in his throat and grasps you more tightly. “Please,” He breathes, breath hot against your ear as you drum your fingers against his neck. “Please touch me.”

It was the closest to a declaration you were going to get at that moment. He wants you to be near to him, to touch him, to be witness to the rawest and most vulnerable parts that he so often hid from everyone else. He had to hide. Who would want to see the human side of the Half-Elven Herald of the King?

You tilt your head and gently graze your fingertips over his ears as he bends his own head to meet your mouth halfway. It's cataclysmic. You've been dreaming about this moment since the first time he asked you to play for him at the very end of one of Gil-Galad's feasts with the other elves who dwelt in Lindon.

Elrond shudders as you come together and lifts a hand to touch your jaw just beneath your own ear.

The action alone causes you to gasp just enough for him to take the opportunity to kiss you more deeply, licking into your mouth with a low groan as you wind your fingers through his hair.

"Elrond," You breathe. The two of you pull away just enough to feel the warm breath of the other on your skin, your fingers twirling circles against his temples as he worked at undoing the braids that hung over your shoulders. You want more of him. You want to bury yourself in his heart and never let anyone hurt him again. "That was-"

"I would very much like to do it again. And again, and again, until you are rendered breathless," Elrond whispers, reaching to the side to pluck a lily from the flower bed before tucking it behind your ear. There is hope lingering on the edge of his tone as he looks at you. A hidden promise for something that you both can chase, not a futile dream he has to chase alone. "But only after I hear you play."

You stand to your feet and motion for the violin case beside him. "One on condition," You reply as you tuck your chin into the base of the instrument and poise your bow against its strings. "There must be more kisses at the end of this song."

You swallow the knot in your throat as the melody begins to echo in the gardens, allowing Elrond the opportunity to lean back on his elbows and peer up at you from his spot on the blanket. "I believe that can be arranged. Is there anything else?" He asks innocently. You raise a brow and pause as his shirt shifts to reveal the skin beneath. Warm, tanned skin that you wanted to... "You're staring. You're going to mess up your song."

"You are distracting me." You retort. "I do have one more condition."

There are several beats of silence between you two as Elrond goes quietly, enraptured by the melody that seems to encompass your entire being as if it comes from the very heart of you. You are the very essence of what makes music beautiful.

When your final note decrescendos into the serenity of the garden's life around you is when you open your eyes to look at Elrond once again.

"What's that final condition?" Elrond asks.

"A date, Elrond Peredhel." You muse, leaning down to return your violin to its case before swooping in to press a kiss to reddened cheeks. "Anywhere and any time. I will leave the rest up to you."

He does not dare move as he watches you walk back towards your rooms. You truly are a marvel, a sight to behold. You are the brightest light that has entered his life since he lost Elros. He would not dare to dim that light.

"Anytime and anywhere," He whispers to himself as he traces his fingers over his cheek. "For all my life-time."

[seresinhangmanjake]

Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader

Your and Benny’s little girl gets injured playing on a bike and must go to the hospital. Benny doesn’t handle it well.

Warnings/Notes: mention of broken bones, cursing, angry but sweet dad Benny, protectiveness, typos, and I think that’s it.

Part of the Come Back Knockin’ universe. Takes place after Come Back Together and Together and More, but you don't have to read these beforehand to understand this fic.

Words: 1250

Benny Cross Masterlist

Benny’s going to lose his damn mind—that’s all you can think as you stand beside Wahoo in the hospital lobby, the both of you keeping sharp eyes out the wall-length windows to spot your husband. Facing him will be no easy feat and you need all the time you can get to prepare yourselves before he stomps through those doors. 

“Wahoo, I don't know about this. You really better go back to the meeting,” you encourage him, as you’ve done at least ten times in the last fifteen minutes. 

“Nah, I gotta stay and apologize to ‘im,” he replies. “But you shouldn’t have to wait here with me. You should go be with your girl.”

Your eyes scan the visible area from the benches in the flowered courtyard to the emergency sign attached to the building’s exterior brick before darting to the looped driveway reserved for ambulances. He’s nowhere in sight. But he will be soon enough. You called him—you peek at your watch—exactly twelve minutes and forty-three seconds ago. The shop is nineteen minutes away from the hospital and there’s no way he’s not speeding. 

“If I go, who is going to stop Benny from killing you?” you say, your heart hammering in your chest. 

You love your husband, but the man has a temper that can flare as easily as a swift strike of a match. He has started many short-lived fights, always requiring some patching up before the excitement finally settles down, but if Benny is given time to simmer, he can explode with an unrivaled rage.

Wahoo chuckles awkwardly, turning his head to look at you. 

“You got a point there, sweetheart,” he says. Then he goes silent amongst the background chattering of anxious families and ringing phone lines at the front desk.

You glance his way just in time to see the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“I won’t let him,” you promise. “You know…kill you.”

“Not sure you’re gonna be able to stop ‘im. You and the kid are the most important things in his world, and one of yous got hurt on my watch.”

A wince pinches your face at the memory and you’re so busy worrying about how the events of the next few minutes are going to unfold that you miss Benny’s entrance entirely. 

“What the fuck!” Benny shouts. It echoes throughout the room, making every head swivel, every conversation cease. 

As he storms closer, you step between him and Wahoo, your hands planting firmly on his chest. Murder is in his glare and though he could easily barrel through the barrier in his path, that would involve shoving you aside, and regardless of the circumstances, he would never do that.

Benny’s arm raises over your shoulder, finger pointed like a dagger toward his friend—well, enemy, at the moment. “What the hell you doin’ lettin’ my four-year-old on your fuckin’ bike!”

He tries to side-step you but you’re watching his feet, catching his movements before he can finish making them. 

“I’m real sorry, Benny,” Wahoo says meekly.

“Sorry? You’re sorry!” His tone is darker, fists clenching, anger overflowing and spilling onto the tiled floor. Without glancing at you, in a much softer—but still threatening—voice, he says, “Baby, move.”

You look up at him. Your hands slide from his chest to cup his cheeks in a failed effort to trap his attention. “Benny, it was an accident, ok? Alright? She was just playing pretend like she does with you and she wiggled out of his grasp and landed wrong,” you tell him. 

“I don't fuckin’ care if it was an accident.”

He’s so revved up, so locked in on his target, that your stomach twists for Wahoo. He’s been such a kind man and he’s so good with your daughter that he’s told you once or twice he wishes he could have one of his own someday.

When Lucy fell, it took all of two seconds for his visibly consuming guilt to settle in. He’d immediately picked her up, buckled her into your car, and followed you straight to the hospital where he has stressed over her injured state from the moment of arrival. He doesn’t deserve the abuse from Benny as if he was negligent. Benny, a man who regularly demonstrates little of his own self-preservation skills, but happens to go feral when his child so much as skins her knee. 

“Move.”

“Benny, please,” you say. “Honey, look at me.”

If you can get his eyes on you then he’ll be stuck to you like glue. He’ll calm down. The huffing and puffing of his chest will slow. 

And to your relief, when you stand up on your toes to invade his line of sight that is exactly what happens. The vengeance drains out of his face, replaced by a gentleness that only ever reveals itself to you and your shared child. 

“She’s fine,” you say. “She cried until the doctor gave her a sucker and now I’m not sure she even cares about her arm.”

Benny’s mouth dips into a frown. His brow pinches, then his teeth bite down hard on his bottom lip. “She got hurt,” he says, and your heart breaks for him.

You sigh. “I know.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if you were. It happened in a split-second,” you tell him. “You’re here now; that’s what matters. And wouldn’t you rather see her than argue?”

Benny’s exhale is a sharp release of air that subdues the remnants of his temper. “Where is she?”

You point to the double doors off to the side of the lobby. “Through there,” you say.

Benny swallows, nods, and takes your hand. But when he looks up, the glare resurfaces. “You're not gettin’ off,” he tells Wahoo. “I’ll deal with you later.”

As Benny pulls you along in the direction of your daughter, you quickly whisper to your friend, “I'll take care of it, but you ought to go.”

Wahoo’s smile is weak, never reaching his eyes, and his hands slip into his jeans pockets before he turns on his heel for the exit.

---

“Daddy!”

Lucy hops up from the floor where a few toys are scattered about from playing with the nurse in your absence. 

Benny plasters on a smile that barely conceals his agitation as he scoops her up in his arms. “You doin’ alright, nugget?”

“Mhmm,” Lucy hums, chipper as ever. “I finished my sucker. It tasted like grape.” She lifts her arm and Benny’s head jerks back to avoid a collision with his nose. “You like my cast?” 

You watch Benny struggle to come up with a positive reply, considering that within said cast is his little baby’s broken arm. “Y-Yea, Lu. It’s…It’s real great.”

“It’s blue!”

“I see that.”

The nurse chuckles as she rises from the floor and dusts invisible specks of dirt from her pristinely white uniform. “You’ve got yourself a lovely little girl,” she praises, tilting her head affectionately as he takes in the image of Lucy tucking her head into the crook of Benny’s neck. “The doctor says we’ll need to see you back here in six weeks.”

“Thank you.”   

She starts toward the door but pauses as she passes your daughter. “Goodbye, miss Lucy,” she says, her smile wide. 

“Bye, miss nurse!” With her good hand, Lucy gives an animated wave that the nurse returns as she closes the door behind her. 

Benny releases the sigh you’re pretty sure he’s been holding in since you called him. He cups the side of Lucy's head as if he could cradle her closer than she already is.

“You're not gonna be sittin’ up on any bikes for a real long while,” he says.

Lucy’s head shoots up, eyes widening in panic. “Nooo!” she whines. “You can't stop me!” 

“You wanna bet?”

“Yes!” she snaps back. “I…I'll do it when you aren't lookin'!”

Benny scoffs. "I'm not lettin' you out of my sight."

"I'll be real sneaky!"

The air of rebelliousness is all too familiar and it makes you snicker. Because despite the exhaustion of the day, despite the tears and the shouting and the drama that you hope will not reemerge later, all you can think as the bantering unfolds before you is that that little girl is definitely Benny Cross’s daughter.

---

Thanks for reading :)

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[woniedarlin]

Rich in Heart: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x rich girl! reader

synopsis: Your parents have always been proud of the person you have become, knowing that they raised a child with strong values and a gentle heart. You have always been grateful for the opportunities you have been given in life, and you recognize how fortunate you are. This has made you a kind and thoughtful person, even when others may misunderstand or assume the worst about you. So what would happen if Jungwon wasn’t able to pay for his lunch at the cafeteria but you stepped forward and helped him, initially proving him wrong with his assumptions?

warnings: you are very bold like no joke. Mentions of punching, bruise, thieving, LOTS AND LOTS OF CURSING, you two are flirty but mostly you, swatting your bum (?). A little suggestive, just a tiny one like a sprinkle of salt. Descriptions might not fit to your own, Let me know if there is more!

note: Hi my lovely darlings, this story has been on my mind and it took me to write it for a while. I hope you will love it. Reading discretion is advised.

caution: This story may inspire you to pay for Jungwon’s school lunch in an attempt to win his heart.

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @13tter @chlorinecake

Rich in Heart pt. 2

You are very spoiled by your parents. A wealthy girl, like crazy rich, always dressed in the latest luxurious and fashionable clothing. Your family is extraordinarily wealthy, making you one of the richest girls in your town. Because of your affluence, many people assume you have a bratty attitude and look down on others.

However, this couldn’t be further from the truth. You are, in fact, a sweetheart. Your parents instilled good values in you from a young age, teaching you the importance of kindness, humility, and respect for others. When people meet you, they are often taken aback by you.

Jungwon, on the other hand, is a student who lived a moderate life. He didn’t have any of the luxuries or experiences you did, but he was happy nonetheless. He knew of you—well, who didn’t? Though you two had never interacted, he was aware of your reputation and had his own assumptions about you.

But little did he know, you were not at all what he expected.

Jungwon stood at the lunch counter, tray of food in hand, as the lunch lady tallied up the amount. “That will be 5,000 won,” she said with a warm smile.

Jungwon reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. His smile faltered as he realized he didn’t have enough money. He counted the bills and coins he had, coming up short by a few hundred won.

A small frown tugged at the corners of Jungwon’s mouth as he stared down at the money in his hand. He mentally scolded himself—he should’ve double-checked his wallet before he got in line to buy food, but he was so preoccupied with the hunger gnawing at him that it slipped his mind. Now, he found himself in a bit of a predicament. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He turned around, and his heart seemed to stop beating for a second the moment he saw you, holding a tray of food as well.

You stepped forward, setting your tray down before taking out your wallet and handing the money to the lunch lady. “Here, I got it,” you said with a warm smile.

Jungwon’s eyes widened in surprise as you stepped in front of him and offered to pay for his food, his cheeks heating up in a light blush. He hesitantly held out his wallet to you, watching as you plucked out the money with ease.

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to—” he started, only for you to brush off his protest with a small shake of your head.

“It’s fine, it’s already paid,” you replied, waving off his concerns.

Jungwon was still speechless.

For the past few years, you were a name he’d heard all over the campus—the daughter of a wealthy businessman, infamous for your wealth and your appearance. He had always assumed you were pampered and haughty, like most kids who came from rich families. He had never expected you to be so…kind. So…considerate.

“Uh…thanks,” he mumbled quietly, not knowing what else to say.

“No problem,” you said cheerfully.

You were completely different from his assumptions. You were the epitome of sweetness. Even though you came from a rich background, you were just as gentle and sweet as your appearance.

He nervously cleared his throat, searching for something to say as he desperately tried to think of any possible conversation starter. But his mind suddenly went blank.

You tilted your head, breaking his thoughts. “You’re Jungwon, right? I’ve seen you around.”

Jungwon nodded quickly, surprised that you knew his name. Even though everyone knew you, it hadn’t occurred to him that you might know his name as well.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he confirmed. After a moment of silence, he gathered enough courage to speak again. “And you are…well, everyone knows you, so no introduction needed.”

You laughed softly. “I suppose that’s true. But it’s nice to finally talk to you, Jungwon.”

He smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah, it’s nice to talk to you too.”

You grinned and looked around the cafeteria. “I’ve noticed that the tables here are all packed. Want to sit at mine? My dad made the school reserve a table for me to sit at the cafeteria so I wouldn’t have to fight for a spot.”

Jungwon followed your gaze, noting the lack of empty tables. He couldn't believe it. Not only did you pay for his lunch, but now you were offering to let him sit with you at your reserved table. It was completely unfathomable to him. He had never imagined himself sitting beside you, the daughter of one of the wealthiest businessmen around.

He nodded, trying to keep his cool.

You made your way across the crowded cafeteria, the lunchroom noisy with chatter and laughter. Most students turned their heads as you passed, staring at the sight of the wealthy girl and the not-so-wealthy boy walking together.

Jungwon was hyper-aware of the eyes on them, and a small, uncomfortable pang filled his chest as he was reminded of the stark social differences between you. But he pushed those thoughts aside and followed you to the reserved table, taking a seat next to you.

He sat down next to you, still trying to comprehend what was happening. He glanced around discreetly, meeting several pairs of eyes from other students. Despite the attention, he tried to focus on the food in front of him.

He reached out for a fork and stabbed at a piece of food, clearing his throat before speaking quietly. “Thanks again. For paying for my food…and for letting me sit here.”

“No need to thank me, Jungwon,” you said with a warm smile, waving off his gratitude like it was no big deal. “I couldn’t just let you go hungry, could I?”

Jungwon’s heart skipped another beat at your casual response. You were so nonchalant about the whole thing like it was just a normal occurrence. He had to remind himself that you were used to this kind of thing, having grown up in a wealthy family and surrounded by extravagance and luxury.

He let out a small huff, trying to mimic your nonchalant attitude. But as he began eating, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was secretly basking in the fact that he was sitting at a table with you, the most beautiful and sought-after girl in the school.

Taking a bite of his food, he decided to ask, feeling a bit bold, “So, do you always rescue people in the cafeteria?”

You laughed at his words, a melodic sound that seemed to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “Only when they look like they need it,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye. “What about you? Do you always find yourself short on lunch money?”

Jungwon chuckled, a sheepish smile appearing on his face at your question. He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed knowing that he looked like a broke student in front of a very wealthy girl.

“Only on days when I forget to check my wallet. But I guess it worked out today, thanks to you.”

He paused, taking another bite. He then decided to turn the tables on you, attempting to be more bold. “So, is this part of your daily routine? Paying for strangers’ lunches and granting them the privilege of sitting at your exclusive reserved table? Or am I just lucky?” He gave you a grin.

You playfully flirted with him, “Not exactly. I only do it for cute strangers.”

He was surprised at how easily you referred to him as “cute” so nonchalantly. Nobody had ever called him cute before. Well..only his mom and his grandmother.

He chuckled, trying to come up with a witty response to your flirty banter. “Is that so? Well, I guess I should feel honored then, huh?”

“Exactly,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with amusement. You took a bite of your food, still smiling.

Jungwon chuckled again, feeling both shyness and excitement at your directness. It was hard not to feel flustered in your presence, especially with the way you were casually calling him cute and flirting with him.

He had never imagined himself in this situation, especially not with you. He felt like the luckiest guy in the schoolyard.

He’d definitely tell all about it to his friends later.

🎩

Despite the different backgrounds, you two quickly developed a strong bond. Over the weeks that followed, you two found yourselves spending more and more time together.

The cafeteria incident was only the beginning. Once Jungwon got over his initial shock and somewhat shyness, he discovered that you were genuinely down-to-earth and easy to talk to. You treated him like any other person, without any trace of the haughtiness he had originally expected.

He found himself looking forward to his days at school, knowing that he would get to see you each day.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Jungwon and you were walking together through the streets, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city.

As they passed by different shops and stores, Jungwon pointed to a small café, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, hey, have you been to that café over there?” He pointed to a cute cafe with outdoor seating. “I heard they have great pastries.”

‘’Wanna go?” you tilted your head, a playful glint in your eye.

Jungwon nodded, smiling as he agreed. “Yeah, sure. I’ve been meaning to try it out for a while. Let’s grab a seat.” He led the way, holding the door open for you as you entered the café. The pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, instantly making him even hungrier.

“Go find a good table. I’ll grab us something to eat,” he said, heading towards the counter.

You nodded and made your way to a cozy corner table by the window, watching as Jungwon waited in line at the counter. His eyes scanned the menu board, and after a moment of contemplating, he placed your orders, grabbing a few pastries and a couple of drinks. Balancing the tray of food carefully, he made his way back to the table where you were waiting, setting down the items on the tabletop.

“Hope you like what I chose.” He sat down across from you, pushing one of the pastries in your direction, along with a drink.

“Thanks for paying for it. You didn’t have to,” you said, feeling a bit guilty for not offering to split the cost.

Jungwon shook his head, waving off your thanks with a casual shrug. “It’s no big deal. I wanted to treat you.”

He picked up one of the pastries and took a bite, savoring the flavor. Then, he looked at you with a smile. “Consider it a small payback for paying for my lunch that one time, remember?”

You chuckled, remembering the cafeteria incident. “I guess we’re even now, huh?”

Jungwon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess we are. It’s nice to finally repay the favor. And it’s nice to have a friend like you.”

The word “friend” slipped out of his mouth automatically, and he hoped it didn’t sound too presumptuous. But truthfully, he couldn’t imagine calling you anything other than a friend. He felt comfortable around you like he could be himself without any pretense.

“Ouch…only a friend? That hurts,” you said, acting like it hurt, partially because you were interested in him.

He knew you were probably just joking around, but the thought of you being “hurt” by the idea of just being friends sent a pang to his chest. He tried to keep his voice casual as he responded, trying to play along with your lighthearted banter despite accidentally friendzoning you, which he never even intended to do in the first place. “Sorry, would it be better if it’s my future girlfriend?”

You feigned offense with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, so now I’m just a placeholder until your future girlfriend comes along?”

“No, no, I’d never make you a placeholder!” He paused, pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe I’ll just keep you around as a backup girlfriend then.”

“Well, I’m sorry but consider this a breakup already!” you said, crossing your arms with mock indignation.

Jungwon mock-gasped, pretending to be devastated. “A breakup? But we weren’t even officially together yet!”

“Pfft,” you laughed, unable to maintain the act any longer.

Jungwon couldn’t help but laugh along with you. He found himself even more smitten with you than he was before. He quickly composed himself, wiping away his “tears.”

“You’re heartless,” he mimicked you, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe you’re already breaking up with me after, like, five minutes of being my girlfriend. That’s a new record even for me.” He chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest as he bantered with you.

“You know what? We should eat before we embarrass ourselves,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

Jungwon laughed, amused by your suggestion. “You’re probably right. We’re getting a little too ridiculous here.” He picked up his pastry again, taking a bite as he tried to suppress his laughter.

After finishing their snacks and laughing together, Jungwon and you decided it was time to leave the cafe. He watched as you grabbed your bag then you two stepped out onto the street. The sunlight dazzled his eyes for a moment, and he shielded his eyes from the brightness before turning to you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Where to next?”

“Actually, I was thinking that we could—” your words were abruptly cut off as a guy snatched your bag and ran away.

Jungwon was completely unprepared for the sudden shift in the mood. One moment, you were walking together, discussing your next destination, and the next, a man came out of nowhere, snatching your bag and fleeing.

“Your bag!” he yelled as the thief fled.

Unexpectedly for Jungwon, you immediately started running. Your heels didn't bother you as you chased the guy. “Give me my bag back, you bitch!”

Jungwon was stunned by your immediate reaction, watching as you broke into a sprint, chasing after the thief in your high heels like it was nothing. He snapped out of it and started running after you, trying to catch up.

He yelled as he ran, feeling a surge of pride, “Yeah! Get that shithead!”

Eventually, you grabbed an umbrella from a nearby holder and threw it at the guy.

As Jungwon caught up to you, panting heavily, he witnessed the umbrella hitting the thief's legs. The man stumbled and fell to the ground with a loud yell, the stolen bag slipping out of his hands. The scene was surreal, like something out of a movie.

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel impressed by your quick thinking, taking down the thief effortlessly. He ran up to you, still catching his breath. "Goddamn. She’s fast and with heels too?" he thought to himself.

You approached the downed thief and tried to snatch the bag back from him. But the man was holding onto it tightly, refusing to give it up. “Bitch? Give me that!” you yelled at the thief.

The thief yelled at you, trying to taunt you, but before he could say anything else, you landed a solid punch on his face, leaving him reeling in pain.

"That’s my girl," Jungwon said under his breath, feeling proud of your fighting spirit and willingness to defend yourself.

“Geez lady! All that for a bag?” the thief said as he lay on the ground.

“This is not just a bag, this is Prada bitch,” you said before taking the bag completely and telling a nearby police officer to take him away. Then you walked back towards Jungwon.

He walked over to you, a mixture of admiration and concern visible on his face. He studied you for a moment, taking in your disheveled appearance and messy hair. Despite everything that had just happened, you were still the most gorgeous girl he had ever laid eyes on. “You alright?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you replied,

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as you responded that you were all right. He surveyed you again, checking for any signs of injury or distress. “You sure?” he pressed. “That was intense. You punched that guy straight in the face.”

He couldn’t help but think it was kind of hot, seeing you defend your property like that. Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a step closer to you, his tone softer now. “You scared me.”

Your heart felt warm at his concern. “I’m so sorry,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

Jungwon was caught off guard by your sudden hug, but he quickly melted into it. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, feeling the warmth and comfort of your embrace.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’re not hurt,” he spoke into your hair. The initial panic and fear he had felt during the chase slowly ebbed away, replaced by both relief and affection. “Such a badass, though.”

“I know,” you said, not planning to pull away from the hug.

Jungwon chuckled, burying his face into your shoulder. He found himself enjoying this unexpected moment of intimacy, liking the feeling of you in his arms. “Of course you know,” he teased, his voice muffled. “Is there anything you can’t do? Taking down thieves like it’s nothing. And looking beautiful while doing it.”

You grinned, pulling away a little to look at his face. “Well, back to what I was saying, I was kind of thinking we could go walk around a mall?”

The mention of going to a mall seemed harmless enough, but Jungwon couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. “A mall? Trying to get another expensive brand?” he said teasingly, referring to the Prada bag that you had just gone to great lengths to protect.

“Duh,” you replied, flipping your hair.

He chuckled, something about the idea of you walking around a mall filled with luxury stores made him feel a bit uneasy. He knew that the mall would be filled with crowds of people, all with their agendas and attitudes. And he couldn’t help but wonder how you would navigate that environment with your usual elegance and grace.

Nevertheless, he didn’t want to dampen your excitement, so he nodded. “Alright, let’s go. But no more chasing thieves, okay?” He added with a playful grin.

You laughed, linking your arm with his. “Deal. Let’s just enjoy our time together.”

🎩

Days later, you were in a mall yet again after classes, but only with yourself. Holding a shopping bag, you walked around, browsing the stores.

Jungwon stood by the fountain in the middle of the mall, taking a moment to rest after a long day of classes. He took a sip from his drink as he watched mall-goers pass by—couples, families, and friends, all engrossed in their worlds.

He couldn’t help but glance around, looking for a familiar face amongst the sea of people. Then, suddenly, he spotted you. Wanting to talk to you immediately, he followed you around, but you were too fast.

As you were walking, you noticed a guy following you, not knowing it was Jungwon. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned around and punched.

The unexpectedness of it all caught him off guard, and before he could react, your knuckles made contact with his cheek.

“Ah!” he held his cheek. “It’s me!! It’s me!!”

You widened your eyes as you covered your mouth. "Oh my! I’m so sorry, Jungwon. I’m sorry!"

Jungwon let out a small pained noise as he held his cheek, the stinging feeling slowly fading to a dull throb. "It's...okay..." he managed to say through gritted teeth. "I should've known better than to sneak up on you like that."

You kept apologizing over and over. "I didn’t mean to! I thought you were a stranger. Are you alright? I feel terrible."

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m fine,” he reassured you, gently rubbing his cheek. He was secretly impressed by your reflexes, but he was also slightly amused by the irony of the situation. “You sure pack a punch, huh?” he joked, a smile playing on his lips.

“I just... I thought...” you muttered, still shaken from the incident.

Jungwon nodded, understanding your reaction. “It’s okay, really. I get it. You reacted on instinct. Can’t fault you for that.”

He looked at you, curiosity piqued. “Can’t help but ask: where’d you learn to punch like that?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” you shrugged. “It just happened.”

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He couldn’t help but find it slightly absurd that you had been able to throw a punch like that without any formal training. “So you’re telling me you just naturally have those badass instincts?” he asked, still holding his cheek but seeming less in pain now. “Well, I’ll consider it a blessing to be punched by you.”

“Pfft, you are sick,” you said, a small smile breaking through your concern.

Jungwon chuckled again. He knew he might sound ridiculous, but there was something oddly gratifying about being the recipient of your powerful punch. It kind of made him feel like he was in a cheesy action movie or something.

He glanced at you, a smirk on his face. “Maybe a little bit. But can you blame me? It’s not every day that a pretty girl punches me in the face.”

You shook your head, still feeling bad. “Well, is there anything I could do for you? As payback for the punch?”

Jungwon thought for a moment, a grin spreading across his face. He knew you didn’t owe him anything, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease you a bit more. “Hmm, payback?”

He pretended to think for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, there is something you could do...”

🎩

You two were outside his house. It wasn’t like the house—well, mansion—you were used to living in. But rather a homely-looking one. Not too big, but not too small.

Jungwon unlocked the front door to his house, ushering you inside. The contrast between your luxurious upbringing and his modest surroundings was quite stark, but he seemed unfazed by it.

The inside of the house was cozy and inviting, with a lived-in feel. The furniture was old but clean, and it was evident that care had been taken to make it homey.

He looked at you as you took in the environment.

You looked around in shock. “Wow... this is... beautiful.”

Jungwon smiled at your reaction. He wasn’t used to hearing someone describe his home as beautiful. Compared to the extravagant homes you were accustomed to, his modest dwelling might seem like a hovel.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in his home.

“You think so? I mean, it’s nothing fancy like where you live, but it’s home, y’know?”

“It is,” you nodded in agreement, genuinely appreciating the warmth and coziness of his house. “It feels so... welcoming. I can see why you love it here.”

A warm smile tugged at Jungwon’s lips as he saw your sincere expression

He led you further inside, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch in the living room. “You can make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything to drink? I got water, soda, juice...”

“I’m fine,” you smiled, still taking in the surroundings. “Thank you, though. It’s nice of you to invite me over.”

Jungwon nodded and then disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water for himself.

He settled down beside you on the couch. He looked at you, a silent moment of contemplation passing before he spoke again. "Thanks for coming.”

“I am still shocked that you invited me to your house all of a sudden. Are you planning something?” you teased him, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I mean, you didn’t even give me a heads-up.”

He leaned back against the couch cushions, feigning innocence, although a playful glimmer in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. “Planning something with you, huh?”

He gave a small shrug as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “Can’t a guy invite a girl over without any ulterior motives?”

“Dad says most guys would,” you said, crossing your arms with a smirk. “He’s always warning me about that.”

Jungwon grinned, unable to deny that statement. He knew how guys thought, being one himself. “Well, I’m not like most guys,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “And you’re not like most girls either, if I may say so.”

You pointed at him and then at yourself. “You and me both, I guess. We’re definitely a unique pair.”

Jungwon’s smile softened. “Yeah…” He paused. Then, a smirk returned to his face. “Though, you’re definitely the first girl I’ve invited over that wasn’t my mom or my grandmother. And the first girl I’ve invited immediately after punching me in the cheek.”

You winced. “Oh yeah... I still feel terrible about that.”

“Hey, hey.”

He reached out gently and placed a hand on your shoulder, sensing your guilt. He wasn’t upset about the punch. In fact, he found it kind of hilarious now. He let out a soft laugh, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “It’s okay, seriously. No need to feel bad. Besides, I kinda deserved it, sneaking up on you like that.”

“If anything, I should be thanking you for allowing me to have a badass bruise on my face.”

“But your cheek... how am I supposed to poke your dimple if it hurts?” you pouted a little, genuinely concerned. You really liked his dimples. “It’s one of your best features, you know.”

“My dimple, hm? That’s what you’re worried about?” He laughed, gently rubbing his sore cheek with his hand. “It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal, eventually, and my dimple will be all yours for poking again soon enough.”

“Good,” you said with a satisfied nod. “Because I don’t think I could live without poking it.”

Both of you were engaged in conversation, bantering back and forth, never realizing how late it was. The rain started to fall outside, initially a soft pitter-patter on the windows, gradually escalating into a pounding. The change in weather was subtle at first, but as the minutes passed, the downpour outside became heavier and more intense.

Jungwon glanced out the window, realizing how late and dark it had gotten. “Looks like the weather took a turn for the worse,” he commented, his gaze shifting from the window back to you. “Heavy rains like these usually last a while. I hope you weren’t planning on going home anytime soon.”

“But I’m supposed to go home. My parents would be worried,” you said, looking a bit anxious. “They always worry when I’m out late.”

Jungwon nodded, understanding your situation. The last thing you needed was to worry your mother, especially your father, by being out late. “It’s not safe to be out there in this kind of weather. You’ll get soaked and catch a cold, or worse.”

“What do you suggest?” you asked, looking at him expectantly. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

Jungwon pondered for a moment, thinking through possible options. He didn’t want you to risk going home in the middle of bad weather, but he also didn’t want to overstep his boundaries and make you uncomfortable. He looked at you, his expression becoming more serious.

“You can stay here for the night. The rain might not let up for a few hours, and it would be safer than trying to brave it out there.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, hesitating. “I don’t want to impose or anything and I already did a number on you...”

“Trust me, your punch didn’t do that much damage. Besides, it’s just a bruise. I’ve had worse,” he said with a light wave of his hand, partially lying.

It did hurt like a bitch, but he really took pride in it. “And don’t worry about me. I’m the one who offered, remember?”

“Well, I should call my dad to let him know that I’m here. I’m sure he’s a worried mess now,” you said, taking your phone from your bag.

Jungwon nodded in agreement, suddenly realizing he had been so caught up in the moment that he completely forgot about the need to inform your parents. He mentally berated himself for not thinking about this sooner. “Right, yeah. You should probably give him a call, and let him know you’re safe and sound here. I’m sure he’s worried.” He reached out and gave your arm a light pat, trying to reassure you.

You stood up and dialed your dad’s number. “Hi, daddy—”

“Sweet pie! Are you still at the mall? It’s raining heavily and windy,” your dad interrupted, his voice filled with concern.

You tried to calm him down. “I’m fine, daddy. I’m at a friend’s house. Don’t worry.”

“A friend? Is it a boy or a girl?” your dad asked, his tone growing more serious.

“A boy—” you began, then immediately cut off, realizing how that sounded.

“A boy? A boy, sweet pie? No,” your dad said, clearly anxious.

“Don’t worry, daddy. I’ll be fine, please. If anything happens, I’ll call,” you reassured him, trying to keep your voice calm.

“You still have the pepper spray? You better have that next to you while you sleep, and no funny business!” your dad said, his tone stern.

“Of course, daddy. I love you. Tell mommy I love her too. Good night, you two,” you said, hoping to end the call on a positive note.

“Of course, sweet pie. I love you too. Be safe, and good night,” your dad replied, his voice softening a bit.

Jungwon watched as you ended the call, your phone falling silent. He waited quietly for a moment, letting the silence linger. Once you turned back towards him, he spoke up. “Did he freak out?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

Jungwon chuckled, not surprised at all. He could only imagine the kind of panic a single phone call from you could induce in your protective father. “Well, at least you managed to calm him down somewhat, right?”

You shrugged, a small smile on your face. “Somewhat.”

“Well, there’s a slight problem: my clothes,” you said, glancing down at your designer outfit.

Jungwon glanced at your designer clothes, realizing that they were probably worth more than the total cost of his entire wardrobe. He knew how delicate and expensive designer labels could be, and he had no idea if they were washing machine-friendly.

“Hmm, well, if you’re concerned about your clothes, I can find you some of my spare clothes to wear for the night. They’re not as fancy, I’m sure, but they’re comfortable and clean.”

You gave him a relieved smile. “That would be great, thank you so much.”

Jungwon smiled and nodded, then stood up from the couch. “No problem. Just make yourself comfortable while I go get those clothes for you.”

He walked down the hallway to his room, leaving you in the living room. After a few minutes, he returned with a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. “Here you go,” he said, handing you the clothes.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the clothes from him. You glanced around, then back at Jungwon. “Can I also borrow your face wash? I assume you have some because your skin is flawless.��

Jungwon chuckled at your compliment and nodded. “Yeah, of course you can. I have a whole skincare routine. Can’t have my skin looking bad, can I?” He gestured toward the bathroom again. “Just grab whatever you need from the shelf. And you’re welcome to use my toothbrush too if you want.”

You laughed, feeling more at ease. “The new one, I hope.”

“Yeah, the new one,” he assured with a smile. “Go ahead and get changed, then you can freshen up. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything else.”

You headed to the bathroom, changed into Jungwon’s clothes, and followed his instructions to use the skincare products on the shelf. Feeling refreshed, you re-entered the living room a while later, wearing his oversized clothes.

Jungwon was lounging on the couch when you walked in, and he looked up as you entered. His reaction was immediate, his eyes widening and his cheeks reddening.

For a moment, he seemed lost for words. His baggy clothes hung loosely on you, making you look smaller and more delicate. Seeing you without makeup for the first time, he couldn’t help but be struck by your natural beauty. “Woah…”

You tilted your head, feeling self-conscious. “What? Do I look weird?”

Jungwon quickly shook his head, snapping out of his daze. “No, not at all. You look good. Really good.”

His words made you blush slightly, and you walked over to sit beside him on the couch. “Thanks. It feels weird not having any makeup on, but your skincare stuff is really nice.”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on you. “I just hadn’t seen you without makeup before, that’s all. You look different, but not in a bad way. Beautiful, rather.”

Your cheeks warmed even more at his compliment. “Oh, thank you…’’

Jungwon continued to look at you for a moment, taking in the sight of your natural beauty. Without the confident, poised facade you often wore, you looked more innocent, more approachable, and it made his heart skip a beat.

He cleared his throat again, trying to shift the focus. “So, uh, how do those clothes fit? Are they comfortable?”

You smiled, hugging yourself slightly. “They’re comfortable. I’ll just return them to you washed when we meet up again.”

Jungwon nodded, relieved that the clothes were at least comfortable for you. “Yeah, sure.” He then added with a playful tone, “Though, I won’t lie, I kinda like seeing you in my clothes. You look cute in them.”

“You know what? I changed my mind. They look better on you. They’re yours.” he added.

“Wait, really?” you tilted your head in surprise.

He mimicked your gesture, tilting his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. You can keep them. They suit you better than they ever suited me anyway.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said, hugging yourself from the comfiness of the clothes. “This is now my favorite outfit.”

The sight of you hugging yourself in his oversized sweatshirt was almost too cute for him to handle. “No problem. They look way better on you anyway.” He paused, watching you as you continued to appreciate the clothes. A small smirk came as a teasing thought crossed his mind. “Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in my clothes more often.”

“I don’t mind either,” you replied with a smile.

Jungwon had half-expected you to brush off his comment, so your agreement was a pleasant surprise. His eyes flicked up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in his clothes. He definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing them more often. “Well, great. Just so you know, that offer stands. Anytime you want to borrow more clothes from me, you’re welcome to.”

“Well, where should I sleep? The couch will be fine,” you said, looking around uncertainly.

Jungwon’s face darkened somewhat at the thought of you sleeping on the couch. It didn’t sit right with him at all. There was no way he’d allow that.

He shook his head firmly. “No way. You’re not sleeping on the couch. You can take my bed.”

You furrowed your brow, concerned. “But what about you?”

Jungwon smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I can take the couch. It’s comfortable enough for one night.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “No, I’ll be taking the couch.”

Jungwon immediately protested, adamant not to let you sleep on the couch. “No, you’re not. You’re my guest, and I insist you take the bed.”

You folded your arms, equally determined. “No, you are not.”

Jungwon’s resolve remained. He refused to back down on this. “Yes, I am. It’s non-negotiable. You will be sleeping on the bed, and I will take the couch. End of story.”

You defiantly sat down on the couch, refusing to budge. “I’m staying here.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed as he stood his ground a few feet away. “No, you’re not. You’re going to that bedroom, and you’re going to sleep in the bed.”

Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you onto his shoulder.

“Ah! Let me down! I’ll be sleeping on the couch!” you panicked, squirming in his grip.

Ignoring your protests, Jungwon carried you towards the bedroom, determined to settle this once and for all. “Nope, sorry. I warned you already. You’re sleeping in the bed, and that’s final.”

He kicked the bedroom door open and unceremoniously dumped you onto the bed. “There. See? Wasn’t that difficult, was it?”

But before he could retreat, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you.

“Woah, hey! What are you—” Jungwon began, surprised by your sudden move. Despite his resistance, you were surprisingly strong, and he found himself being pulled onto the bed beside you with a slight bounce.

“Now we both sleep in your bed,” you declared with a mischievous smile.

Jungwon lay there next to you, completely taken aback by your unexpected persistence. There was something about the way you were looking at him, that made him give up on arguing... Perhaps resisting would only result in more trouble, like another punch…

“…Fine. We’ll both sleep here,” he relented, his tone softening.

“Good night,” you said with a smile.

He shifted to get comfortable, turning to face you. “Good night,” he replied. “And don’t hog the blanket.”

Suddenly, you clung to him, catching him off guard.

Jungwon blinked in surprise but decided to go along with it. Slowly, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around you, pulling you closer against his chest. The sensation of you holding onto him felt oddly comforting yet exhilarating.

“You’re going to hold onto me all night, hm…?” Jungwon mused, a touch of warmth in his voice.

“Exactly. Now sleep,” you said firmly, settling in against him.

He sighed softly, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. “Alright, alright. I’m sleeping. And you better not complain about me hogging the blanket in the morning either.”

🎩

‘’AHHH! WHY IS IT SIZZLING LIKE THAT? Jungwon, help!’’ you yelled trying to hold the handle of the pan.

Jungwon was sitting at the kitchen counter, his morning disheveled hair tousled from sleep and eyes still half-closed with drowsiness. He was sipping on a glass of orange juice.

He looked up as he heard your panicked cry, his eyes widening at the sight of you in front of the stove, frantically trying to control the sizzling food in the pan. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Calm down, it’s fine. Just turn down the heat.”

‘’I don’t wanna burn the food!’’ “I don’t want to burn the food!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with anxiety as you wrestled with the stove dial.

Jungwon laughed and set his glass down, getting up from his seat. He approached you and placed a calming hand on your back. “You won’t burn the food, trust me. It just needs a little less heat, that’s all.” He reached past you and turned down the heat on the stove, then looked at the pan to assess the food. It was starting to burn, but it was fixable.

He grabbed a spatula and began to carefully stir the food in the pan, preventing it from sticking and burning. “See? Just keep stirring it slowly and let the heat do its job. It’s not rocket science.” He shot you a smirk, enjoying your panicked state a bit too much.

“I’m just used to having my chef at home,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment, glancing up at him.

Jungwon nodded at your confession, not surprised in the slightest. He had already guessed that you weren’t used to doing any sort of housework, considering your family’s wealth and status. “Of course you are. How could I forget that you have a personal chef to cook all your meals for you?” He continued stirring the food, his smirk remaining.

‘’Well, I’m willing to learn,” you said tentatively, determination in your voice.

Raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, Jungwon turned to look at you, impressed by your sudden eagerness. “Really? You’re interested in learning?”

He continued to stir, adding, “I’m not the best cook myself, but I’ve picked up a few things from Jay hyung. I could teach you sometime. But for now, let’s wrap this up so we can finally eat breakfast.”

‘’Alright,” you agreed as you watched Jungwon expertly season and stir the food.

Jungwon continued to stir the food in the pan, carefully attending to the sizzling onions and mushrooms. He sprinkled some spices and seasonings over it to enhance the flavor and added a few other ingredients before turning off the heat.

He put the food onto a plate and handed it to you, a proud expression on his face. “Here you go. Your first attempt at cooking, courtesy of me.”

Taking a bite, you savored the flavors, surprised by how good it turned out. “Wow, this is good!”

Jungwon watches as you take a bite of the food, a hint of pride washing over him. “See, it’s not so difficult, right? You just needed a little guidance.” He grins and steals a forkful of food off your plate, popping it into his mouth and savoring the taste.

Though out of nowhere…

‘’Want to be my boyfriend? I’d be really glad if you were,” you asked casually, but your heart raced with nervous anticipation.

Caught off guard by your sudden question, Jungwon choked on his food, his eyes widening in surprise. “W-What?”

He stammered, utterly taken aback by your directness. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Jungwon sat in stunned silence for a moment, hardly believing what he was hearing. You, the sought-after, affluent girl, were asking him to be your boyfriend.

Shaking his head slightly, still processing the shock of your confession, he managed, “You… want me to be your boyfriend? But why? I’m just a regular guy. You could have anyone.”

“You can answer me after we eat,” you suggested, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your voice.

Nodding in agreement, Jungwon set aside his questions for the moment, focusing on the food. He stole glances at you, curious about what was going on that pretty head of yours.

🎩

After eating, you both found yourselves on the couch, staring at each other in a brief silence. “Yo, your answer. You can just reject me and we can still be friends,” you said, though you weren’t entirely honest – rejection would definitely sting.

He struggled to find the right words. “Why would you want to be with me, out of everyone?”

“I just like you. I like everything about you. It’s kind of obvious. Well, to me at least,” you admitted, your voice soft but sincere.

He swallowed hard, trying to process your words. It was hard to believe that someone like you saw him in such a positive light. Running a hand through his hair nervously, he murmured, “Are you… sure you haven’t lost your mind?”

“Are you calling me crazy?” you retorted, a hint of playful challenge in your tone.

Jungwon quickly shook his head, realizing his mistake. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured you, guilt flickering in his eyes.

“It’s just… you’re kind of, well, out of my league. You’re rich, beautiful, and probably the most popular girl in school.”

“And I still like you,” you said firmly, hoping he could see the honesty in your eyes.

He studied your face for a moment, then sighed, acceptance softening his voice. “I guess it doesn’t make sense, does it? For you to choose me.”

Turning towards you, he added, “Alright… I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You squealed.

Jungwon had never seen you so animated, and it was strangely endearing. He reached over, patting your head affectionately, a small smile playing on his lips. “Calm down, princess. No need to squeal like that. You’re going to bust my eardrums.”

“We’re dating now! I can’t wait for our tea dates!” you exclaimed, bouncing slightly on the couch.

Jungwon had a sense of your high-maintenance nature, being the pampered rich girl of the school, but he found himself looking forward to experiencing it all. “Tea dates? Of course,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head at your expensive tastes.

Tilting your head, you added, “Well, we can go wherever you want!”

Jungwon had assumed you’d prefer fancy, expensive outings, given your wealth. Your willingness to go anywhere with him was a pleasant surprise.

After a moment’s thought, he spoke with a smirk, “Are you sure you’re okay with going somewhere cheap? No luxury restaurants or expensive boutiques?”

“Absolutely! I’m so excited,” you assured him eagerly.

Jungwon laughed at your enthusiasm, still surprised that you’d opt for something so different from your usual lifestyle, just for him. Rising from the couch, he extended his hand to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Let’s go then, princess. I know just the place.”

“Wait, now?” you asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, why not? Unless you’ve got something more important to do than spend time with your boyfriend.”

With a wink, he held his hand out, waiting for you to join him.

“But we’re in our pajamas, and we just ate. Plus, it’s still early,” you protested, feeling both excitement and apprehension.

“So what? It’s never too early, and it doesn’t matter what we’re wearing. Besides, you look cute in your pajamas.” Jungwon gently poked your nose. “Now come on, let’s go.”

“But we just ate, Jungwon,” you persisted, reluctant to leave the comfort of the couch.

“We can grab a light snack where we’re going. Don’t worry so much.” He took your hand, pulling you up from the couch. “Come on. Stop being a cute baby and come with me.”

“Alright, fine. Only because you said yes,” you relented, giving in to his playful persistence.

Jungwon squeezed your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Good.” Letting go of your hand, he gave you a playful swat on the butt, gently nudging you forward.

“Ouch! My butt!” you exclaimed, rubbing your bum.

“Quit being dramatic. It was just a swat. Your butt is still intact,” Jungwon teased, smirking as he watched you move ahead, shaking his head affectionately.

🎩

As the days went by, the news that you were dating Jungwon spread like wildfire throughout the school. No one could believe it.

Jungwon, on the other hand, was enjoying his new status as your boyfriend. It felt weird at first, having everyone’s eyes on him, but he quickly got used to it. Every time someone would stare at him in disbelief, he would smirk and wrap an arm around your waist.

When a guy would comment something bad about him, you’ll just punch him and move forward through the day like nothing happened. Just being the princess you are. (Though you always believed that violence is never the answer and that it’s better to answer everything with grace but when it comes to Jungwon, you’ll fight everyone who looks down on him.)

One afternoon, Jungwon lounged on his bed, casually scrolling through his phone. A knock interrupted his idle moment, and he called out, “Come in.”

“Im home, bitch,” you announced, breezing into his room and closing the door behind you.

Jungwon chuckled sarcastically at your greeting. “Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, suddenly more formal. “Hi, baby! I’m home.”

His eyes softened as you greeted him properly. Setting his phone aside, he said, “Hi there, princess. Come here, I need cuddles.”

You complied, walking over to him. Jungwon eagerly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. “Mmm, I missed you. How was your day?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Just the usual.”

Humming softly, Jungwon nuzzled against your neck, planting a few gentle kisses. “Just the usual, huh? No gossip or drama?”

“Lots of gossip, actually, but I’ll tell you all about it later,” you replied, running your fingers through his hair.

Jungwon perked up at the mention of gossip, always intrigued by school rumors, especially those involving you. He adjusted his position so he could see your face, keeping his arms securely around you. “Gossip, you say? Must be something good if you’re saving it.”

“Well, first, let me just say how handsome you look right now. If you want me to kneel for you, I will,” you teased, meeting his gaze playfully.

Jungwon smirked suggestively, raising an eyebrow. “Oh really? You’d get on your knees for me just like that?”

“Babe, not like that!” you protested, cheeks flushing slightly.

He laughed heartily. “I know, I’m just teasing you.” Leaning in, he planted a sweet kiss on your cheek, his hold on you gentle yet reassuring.

“I love my pretty princess,” Jungwon murmured affectionately.

“Love you too, won…” you murmured back, enjoying the closeness.

Then, a more serious note entered your voice. “Hey, wonie?”

“Yeah, baby?” Jungwon replied, sensing a shift in the conversation.

‘’My dad wants to meet you…’’

“Oh shit’’

[hikarry]

I'm not really on the team that swears to Jesus and beyond that Crowley lost his memories after the Fall. Yes, of course, he forgot some stuff because, ya know, he has been alive for more than 6000 years and if I don't remember what I ate for lunch yesterday, Satan knows he won't remember every single second of his life, but he remembers the important things

"Ah, but what about him not remembering fighting alongside FurFur or building the thingy with Saraqael?"

Love, I give you two options:

Those are either some of the stuff he didn't consider important enough to remember OR he is just straight up fucking with them. He does remember, but why reveal it if playing dumb sometimes is good in the long run? Might be useful

Alas, I don't know, but I will die on the hill that he does remember

Which means he most probably remembers meeting Aziraphale. Not because Aziraphale was "important" at the time per se, or because it was love at first sight (because it wasnt, not for him. Bro was so focused on the nebula he didnt even introduce himself when Aziraphale did. He threw him a "Right. Nice to meet ya. Anyway, nebula time!"), but because he was there when Crowley created the nebula and, as he said, he had been waiting for that moment since "well, always". It's an important moment for him, so he remembers. Aziraphale just so happened to be present

I don't know if that was the only interaction they had in Heaven or not (and that's not the point I'm trying to get to so I will ignore that problem for a later post, maybe), but when the now Demon Crawley was sent up to the Garden, he did remember Aziraphale. That's why he approached him

Cmon, Crowley isn't stupid. Of course he wouldn't approach an angel on the wall just willy nilly and make conversation. He didn't know Aziraphale had given away the flaming sword yet. Just approaching an angel from behind and morph into a demon next to him out of nowhere could be a death sentence. Or at least an A Line for a good smitting

Yet, he did it. He had at least 3 other angels to choose from but he approached the angel that he remembered from back in the beginning that was kind enough to help him with the engine of the nebula. Hell! I even bet this was not the first time they saw each other in the Garden!

Bet they've seen and observed each other from afar a few times while they interacted with the humans (yes, cause I believe Crawley, before tempting Eve, tried to gain her trust. It's easier to listen to a friend than a random snake) or just around the Garden really.

That's why Aziraphale didn't get surprised when Crawley showed up at the wall, because he knew the demon snake had been around the Garden for a while. He probably even recognized him as the former Star Maker and hoped he was still a little bit of his old self so he allowed himself to engage in conversation

Anyhow, another clue? This:

He remembers how Heaven works. He remembers he was a high ranking angel. Satan, he remembers the bloody passwords!

Do you know what else he remembers?

Cause they didn't throw that line in there for nothing. No, gents. Cmon. Nothing is random in Good Omens

He knows who he was. He remembers being the Star Maker that hung the stars in the sky

He remembers why he fell, for goodness sake

And the fact that he remembers everything makes all of it so much more tragic, doesn't it? He remembers his life before the Fall, his supposed friends that dragged him into the pit with them, what Her love felt like, the "mistakes" he made that led to his Fall

And it must have hurt. It must have hurt so much when he found himself in a pit of boiling sulfur with his wings completely burned and without Her love because he remembered it all. He must have been so bloody confused for so long

He might have regretted it. All the questions and the company he kept that made him Fall. But he doesn't anymore.

He knows he doesn't need Heaven, he doesn't need Hell. They are toxic. All he needs is his pacific fragile existence on Earth with Aziraphale and yet...well, that's something else he won't forget now, is it?

*clears throat*

I rest my case

[etheries1015]

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich path)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Lich Romance Scene fair warning you're in for an emotional rollercoaster

first, i wanna touch on this from our previous dissection (argument) -

"What if I can't bear that for eternity?" Oh, Emmrich. his entire soul aches over the inevitable future that awaits rook. i think this line is so important for emmrich because 'bear that for eternity" implies Emmrich will either, a) go rogue trying to bring rook back c) live with so much grief over his lost love it changes his soul forever in a dark, yet unknown way. and quite frankly, all of these are incredibly sad, and that just hurts. i thoroughly, full heartedly believe that there is no concievable way that emmrich just 'moves on' and 'accepts' the death of rook as previously stated in the lichdom scene. sry bioware, but youre wrong on that one as if he was 'fine' with it, he wouldn't of had a massive panic attack over rooks death and his grief. COUGH, the eternal flame. i could rant for hours and HOURS about how emmrich in the lich path is absoloutley devastating if rook were to pass on, because he is so compulsively, irrevocably in love with them. and not only is he in love with them, he has the love he has yearned for, for over 20 years. its huge for him which is evident given how both romance paths have him terrfied of how much he loves you.

Additionally, Emmrich grew up poor. This would impact his view on society and love. But more impactfully, it would impact his view on himself. His self-worth. Emmrich likely thinks he doesnt deserve this type of love. Hence the attempt to push Rook away and act over-suave at times.

anyway, to the SCENE -

immediately we are hit with this, to which Emmrich replies stating that he did it not to scare the citizens. what a load of huff. youll see why thats a straight deflective lie soon -

don't you worry handsome man, youre not alone emmrich expressing his fear of losing rook, and/or losing eachother, continues to be a major dynamic between these lovers

oh rooky, im so proud of you for opening up about your feelings. (remember the argument they had prior, it was fort knox up in here)

rook expresses clear fear and gratitude that they were able to escape the fade. I do believe that the line "I was afrad I'd be there forever" is a parrelle to emmrichs lichdom - as they would of spent eternity without eachother. hence why this next line, hurts so much -

the raw emotion, the crack in his voice when he says this line tells you everything you need to know. he is so grateful to have rook back with him. I do believe in this moment that emmrich has a moment of realisation of his love for rook, and just how immensed and attached he is with her. which is why he later vows that nothing will part them ever again, "not in this, nor any other world" (cough, soulmates). idk man, i have a feeling that emmrich would find rook's spirit in the fade (or any other world) if they passed on, and he'd never leave.

key point back to the lichdom decision scene -

man would go full blown rogue, scarlet witch rogue, i see it now.

I also want to touch on the "you're here with me" line. this, this is important considering what happens directly afterwards - remember how i mentioned desire a few posts ago? lets break it down, "you're here with me." Emmrich has held a consistent view throughout the whole romance that "its gratifying a fresh-faced adventure took any notice in me at all", does emmrich also possess the belief that the love he so dearly desired may not of been possible in his life time due to his age? i think so. which is why desire and the "wow, you're here with me" is so, so important. Now watch closely -

he looks defeated, ashamed - "why would someone like her be with someone like me? let alone, desire me."

the pose, how he is holding his chest and his body up against the coffin, the disbelief and sadness that is pained over his face. he is heavy with angst. this man wants rook, body and soul. he is SO in love with her. god my heart breaks typing this. he is so in love with her, but is so afraid that she doesnt want him now that he is undead - I will add in here to think back to when he was mortal, 3 flirts lines in total were regarding his looks. UGH, just stab me - ps the music in this scene rips out my heart, stomps on it, and shoves it back into my chest bloodied and bruised.

when rook touches him, his face unstiffens and his body relaxes. he looks at her nervously, but before he can address her or admit his pain, rook has NOTICED (YAY - take that argument scene rook) what is bothering emmrich, because she loves him so much, maybe even more, regardless of his undead figure. "You don't have to hide your face from me" is just a perfect way of phrasing that you are made for eachother. rook reassures emmrich of her undying love for him.

its that gomez and morticia dynamic, unwavering, obsessed dedication to eachother. a bond that strengthens the other. for emmrich and rook at least, theri dynamic is so strong I wholeheartedly believe the death of one, would break the mind and soull of the other.

there is so, so much emotion in this scene and most of it is written into the facial expressions and movements of the characters. watch how the fear of death becomes easier now that emmrich knows that rook loves him truly -

im not crying, you are -

this WRECKED me. because there is a slimmer of hope in his voice and particularly the words he chose. "I will let nothing part us again, my love" emmrich is a lich lord, with powers we dont understand just yet (cmon sequel with rook & emmrich), it is safe to say though that emmrich and rook would fight for and protect eachother to the death so that they may not be parted. This also takes me back to my original point of not letting anything part them, nothing - not even death. hence my belief that emmrich would do anything to find rook in the fade or any other world.

"Not in this nor any other world" - do i need say more? the hope seeps through, its not alot, but its there. don't get me wrong, he still has a crippling fear of death, but its, different. different in the sense that if rook was to pass or trapped somewhere, he would get them back and find his way to them, at all costs, one way or another.

the rest of the scene is very, very sweet and shows them being happy for the extra few hours they have together before facing untold danger - by either rook being able to see the fade through emmrichs eyes, or them boning again. actually i think both lead to boning.

this scene has me in absolute tears everytime I witness it because it is so powerful. it is hopeful. it is pure committment of their relationship and bond to eachother. combining this with the knowledge of the argument scene and having played through the mortal romance path, this - is extremely emotional.

Both romance scene are emotional and touching in their own regard - however, I do think the lich romance scene is more deep due to the dynamic. It is not about simply coming to grips with mortality, it is coming to grips with mourning your lover for eternity, and if you cant bear it for eternity, (which he wont, cmon) he is afraid. afraid of losing, rook. his heart. his dearest heart, and of losing himself because rook is, and I quote, "the most magnificent thing to ever happen to me."

mourn watch rook and emmrich are on a whole other level, and that level is something that is told in the minute details, the edging looks. the tone of voice. there is hope in this scene and a sense of overwhelming love and acceptance, but, there is also impending grief. which makes this story so real.

you can feel emmrich yearning for rook throughout the entire romance path because of the fated connected they share, in this and any other world. you can feel it. but this, in the lich scene? there is yearning, acceptance, hope, grief, joy, and melancholy all in one. without a doubt in my heart, these two, are made for eachother, in every world.

I shall break down the mortal romance scene next ♥ see you soon

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter One- The Consummation

Summary- With the Targaryen dynasty at risk, the last of the family must make unsavory decisions in order to ensure their reign continues.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Angst. Politicking. Consummation of marriage with witnesses. Mentions of death. Trauma. Uncomfortable smut.

Author's Note- This first chapter is not very sexy!! There is (consensual) smut but it is not hot nor is it meant to be. The sexy smut will happen later. With that said, the link to the full chapter is below :)

series masterlist

When the dust settles around the Dance of the Dragons, she is the only member of her family still alive.

Her mother burned by dragonfire, her step father cut down on dragonback. Jace and Luke lay dead at the bottom of the ocean alongside Aegon and Viserys while Joffrey lay scattered across the streets of Flea Bottom. It is a reality she does not like to face and though she still has Baela, Rhaena, and their grandfather, she knows she is the last of her family line. The last of Rhaenyra's blood, the blood of the true heir. 

It is that blood that damns her the moment Aegon is found poisoned, laying dead in his litter.

She had been spared alongside Baela and Rhaena, though she knew that was more so Corlys's idea than anyone else's. Aegon had demanded her head the moment he learned that it was she and Silverwing who had been responsible for Daeron's death but Corlys had managed to talk him down to simply keeping her as a hostage. He had argued that by having her bend the knee, it would show her mother's loyalists that he was the true king above all others, that her fealty had the power to stop Cregan Stark's march south and would calm tensions in the Riverlands and Eyrie. Aegon had agreed, though only after Alicent had prompted him to, and she had been spared from the executioner's block. Though as she sits at the small council table, staring at her last living uncle, she wishes Aegon had found the kindness in his black heart to swing the axe.

The Battle Above the God's Eye had left Aemond with another scar, this one having ripped through the flesh of his left shoulder and bicep. She wishes it crippled him further, that Daemon's final act managed to cut his arm from its socket, gouge out his last remaining eye and send him plunging into the depth of the God's Eye but other than a deep new scar, her step father managed little. 

"Lord Corlys and I believe that it is important, especially now, to assure the smallfolk that this war is far behind us now. Aegon's death threatens the already fragile stability we have managed to find ourselves on," Alicent explains, though it is not directed at her. They had all been whisked away into the small council chambers less than a handful of hours after Aegon had been found dead and that grief is still present in Alicent. Her eyes are rimmed red- a common trait of hers now- and her voice is hoarse from crying, but she still manages to stay strong before the men gathered. She and Aemond had been ordered to sit in on the small council meeting but neither have been given leave to speak. They sit silently, waiting for the moment that deemed their appearance here necessary as Alicent turns to her grandfather. "Which is why we have come to a kind of agreement."

"We want the Iron Throne to remain in Targaryen hands just as fervently as all others here and with the death of our king so fresh, it is of the utmost importance that we find a suitable heir quickly. One that puts both the Blacks and the Greens at ease and prevents a continuation of the war," Corlys says, fingers pushing at the small ball that rests before him. 

When the two of them had the time to discuss a potential heir, she has no idea, but perhaps it is a blessing that they had. With Aegon and all his children dead, there are few options left for the throne. She knows in her heart that she is the legitimate heir, being the only one left who has Rhaenyra's blood running through her veins, but she is a woman. After all that has happened, only a fool would attempt to crown her. The same could be said for Baela and Rhaena, though their claims are not as strong as her own. That left Aemond, a man, but widely hated for all he had done throughout the war. 

They are damned regardless of who is chosen, the risk of further rebellion at every turn. She does not pity the remnants of this council for the choice they must make now. The realm rests on the shoulders of the six people left in this room and that is a burden she would not want to carry.

"And you have an idea as to who the most suitable heir would be, my lord?" Lord Larys asks. Though he sits at the table, he is not truly facing it, leaning on the cane in his hands. She turns her head to look at him, his eyes wide with his question, and feels her stomach turn at the mere sight of him, their master of whisperers. 

Corlys looks toward Alicent, waiting until she gives the faintest nod of her head before speaking again. "My granddaughter, the princess, is Rhaenyra's last surviving child. Aemond is the last surviving child of King Viserys and acted as Aegon's regent for more than half his reign. The dowager and I propose that we unite house Targaryen once and for all and have the two wed to serve the realm as king and queen, like the Old King and Good Queen Alysanne. Equal in power, so as to bring all this unrest to an end."

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk

[wriothesleysgf]

wonderland— wriothesley.

★ : wriothesley is tired of your phone ringing. he's not going to let something like that stop him having fun.

cw : riding, teasing, exhibitionism, praise, m. m-sturb-tion, spit, fem reader.

"fucking angelic," wriothesley growled, punctuating the phrase with a slap to your ass. the sound echoed around the room, combining with the grunts and groans emanating from the two colliding bodies.

you continued to ride him as best as you could, though the pace that he was attempting to set was becoming too much; the man was essentially using you like a toy at this point. what had begun as you slowly grinding on his thigh whilst he finished up some paperwork had lead to his thick cock kissing your cervix as he gripped your hips tight enough that the indents of his blunt nails were visible.

"is my pretty girl struggling? why don't i take—" he began, but was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. he ignored it initially, letting it go to voicemail. the caller didn't leave a message, so certainly it couldn't be important, right?

wrong. after the third call, wriothesley grabbed your phone from his desk and checked the caller id. he turned the screen to face you, and before even a syllable could pass your lips he had hit the answer button. he put the phone to your ear, hinting for you to take it and answer the call.

"y- yes, monseiur neuvillette? is everything okay?" you spoke in the most professional voice that you could muster, given that wriothesley's cock was still nestled within you.

"stay quiet, princess. you don't want your boss knowing how you really spend your lunch breaks, do you?"

your raised eyebrows soon turned into a warning glare, as wriothesley picked you up from his lap and put you onto his desk. with your back flat against the hard wood, he took a moment to see exactly how messy he'd already made your sweet cunt. even just with one finger traced through your sensitive folds, and you were forced to bite your bottom lip.

"is everything okay? are you feeling unwell?" the iudex queried.

you had to use every last ounce of strength to maintain your composure. "i'm perfectly fine, it's just a little cold, that's all."

wriothesley's smirk gave you the urge to slap it off of his face. he knew precisely how to drive you crazy, and it worried you. whilst trying to maintain the conversation with your boss, he continued to tease you.

he bent down to place a kiss to your swollen clit, and the short whine that fell from your lips was almost certainly audible on the other end of this call. if he did notice, however, he didn't mention it. nor did he mention any noises you made from the subsequent kitten licks to the sensitive bud.

wriothesley was enjoying this a little too much. he decided to go all out, lining his cock up with your puffy cunt despite the wide eyes from you— it wasn't a plea not to do this, no, but rather a look of shock that he'd go so far. in fact, it was turning you on even more. the risk of being caught was exhilarating, and had your slick dripping onto the desk below you.

"oh, baby," wriothesley cooes as he slowly pushes into you. "always take me so well, 's like your cunt was made for me," he punctates the sentence by collecting a fat glob of saliva in his mouth and spitting directly onto your clit. the combination of such a lewd action with his praise filled words never failed to make you weak.

with a few more harsh thrusts into you, your phone lay forgotten about on the desk. your whimpers became more prominent, and from the look in your eyes you were bordering on overstimulation.

wriothesley removed his left glove with his teeth, throwing it aside before putting two fingers to your lips. he didn't gag you, instead slowly allowing you to suck on his digits as a way to stay quieter— how considerate. you swirled your tongue around his digits, your hands both on his wrist. soft pleas came out distorted, though from the way that your cunt intensely pulsed, wriothesley knew you were close to cumming.

"think you can stay quiet, princess?" he chuckles. you nodded sheepishly, and he removes his fingers from your mouth. "good girl."

however, that trademark smirk start to appear again.

instead of going easy on you, he immediately targets your pretty clit. a couple of taps followed by a few strokes had you writhing around. wriothesley tutted a few times, unimpressed. "he can probably hear you thrashing around on my desk, darling," he reminds you, nodding towards your phone. you assumed he'd hung up, though the quieted calls of your name made it clear that neuvillette was still on the line.

wriothesley moved you around a little, pushing your legs up into somewhat of a mating press. his goal was to keep you still enough that you couldn't shift out of his reach as your highs approached. your ankles were at his shoulders, his body pressed against your thighs. the hard, powerful thrusts continued, and you were a blubbering mess. the man took a moment to slap your tits, always finding the way that your flesh jiggled incredibly attractive. with a pinch of your stiff nipple for good measure, he returned to his attack on your swollen clit.

"go on, baby," wriothesley cooed. "you know you wanna cum for me, yeah? let me hear it, princess,"

there were tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. with his thick cock consistently grazing over all the spots that made your back arch and the gentle touches to your cunt, it didn't take too long before your nails dragged down wriothesley's back and your thighs to begin to shake. you babbled something incoherent again and before you knew it, your orgasm came crashing down on you. it triggered the man's own high, and he shot his load deep inside of you.

he leaned over you, allowing you both to be close to one another as you caught your breath. wriothesley mumbled gentle praises into your ear and carressed your cheek, wanting you to feel as safe and loved as ever.

what the two of you were unaware of, was the absolute bliss being experienced on the other end of the line too. if one were to listen closely, they would hear the esteemed iudex's heavy pants.

[noosayog]

004 logical

✧ wc: 2.5k

✧ warnings/content: oikawa toru x reader, no gendered pronouns used but please lmk if I missed any! sfw, angst to fluff, another breaking up making up fic, long distance relationship

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

“I don’t think this is working out.” 

When Oikawa hears those words, marred by phone static, he drops the remote from his left hand and his fork from his right. 

“Baby,” he says cautiously, disoriented. “It’s just a few more days.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Oikawa picks up the phone and presses it to his ear. 

“It’s not just that,” you say quietly. “How much longer are we going to do this – not seeing each other, missing calls, postponing flights? Even when we’re talking, we’re not fully focused on each other.” 

“That’s not true,” he immediately protests. 

“Yes, it is. Were you not just watching a game and eating right before this?” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not fully focused on you.” 

“Yes, Toru. It does.” 

He has so much to say, yet none of it seems to come out. Nothing seems appropriate. 

You sigh again. “Just… stay, Toru. Stay there. You don’t have to fly back to Japan for me. I know volleyball’s important for you.” 

When he says nothing, you go on. “But I hate the way this makes me feel. Like I’m asking you to give up what you love to fly across the globe just to see me for a few days.”

“You’re not. I want to-” 

“Toru.” 

His mouth clamps shut. 

“Last time you came back to Japan, you missed a last-minute practice match with that coach you’ve been wanting to work with. Last time I came to you, I spent 2 of the 4 days I was there alone because you had another last minute volleyball thing. Even when we invest the time to see each other, we’re not really… there.” 

Oikawa knows; he knows. 

“So let’s just… not.” 

He knows, but that doesn’t mean he wants to… not. 

“Just hold on a couple more days, okay?” he asks, trying his hardest not to beg and whimper. “Just a couple of days, and I’ll be back in Japan and we can talk, figure something out.” 

“Toru…” 

“Please, wait for me.” 

“I don’t know if I have that in me anymore.” 

The coldness of your words seize his chest. 

Hearing nothing more from him, you sign off with finality, “Good bye, Toru.”

And the line cuts off. 

–

Today is Friday, the beginning of the 3-day long exchange scrimmages with the visiting Brazilian and Chilean pro teams. Duffle bag tossed on the floor by his feet, Oikawa flops on the couch, downing the remainder of his protein shake. The bright screen of his laptop stares back at him, email confirmation of his flight change there to reprimand him, remind him. 

Your Flight AE344 to Haneda International Airport for Thursday, February 8th has been canceled. 

You’re booked for Flight AE267 to Haneda International Airport for Monday, February 12th! See you soon! 

After you had hung up, he gave you a call back. You didn’t answer. He tried again an hour later, then 2, then 12. He had listened to the line ring, for exactly 20 seconds, 8 rings, before banishing him to your unset-up voicemail. 

Shutting the laptop screen, he picks up his duffle and is out the door. After all, if he didn’t show up to the scrimmage, what would this have all been for? 

–

Friday night arrives, and despite how tired he is, physically from all the exercise and mentally from all the socialization with the visiting players, you wander through his mind. He supposes this is hardly surprising, given you’ve always been his place of rest, regardless of the physical distance, sheer kilometers between the two of you. 

Almost afraid to look, he checks his phone and immense disappointment and an increasingly familiar emptiness fill his chest when he sees nothing from you. 

He tries your phone again. It rings, rings, and rings and there’s no reward, your voice waiting at the other end.

He showers, eats a quick dinner, and meal preps for Saturday’s scrimmage. Busying himself works momentarily, but at 9PM, his phone alarm goes off, reminding him that it’s time to call you. For the past year, his routine has been talking on the phone with you every night at 9PM. No matter where he is, at a bar with teammates, at dinner with friends, or late night practice, he always takes at least 10 minutes to talk to you. 

When the two of you first established this, the agreed upon time was 10PM for him, 10AM for you. The two of you used to compete to see who could call who first. The first night, you called the exact second the clock struck 10. So the next night, Oikawa called at 9:59. Then the following night, you called at 9:58. And it went on until the two of you begrudgingly came to a truce that you’d alternate nights. 

And tonight is your night. 

Five minutes after 9, Oikawa knows the call isn’t coming. 

–

Late Friday night – or technically early Saturday morning – Oikawa lays awake in bed wondering how the hell it all went down the way it did. It hasn’t even been a full year since the two of you started to do long-distance. And he’s still confused. He’s confused because he thought the two of you were doing the best you could be. He’s confused because he’s never even thought about the possibility of not being with you. 

He twists over to lay on his side, facing his phone screen, open at your contact. His thumbs hover over your name for the nth time that night, only for him to flop back on his back, turning now to the other side, your side. It hits him then that he can’t even remember the feeling of you in that bed, the last time you kissed. If he had known that would be the last time, he would've savored it all the more. He’d burn the memory into his nerves, just so he could remember the feeling. Volleyball was all muscle memory; he never thought he’d need to commit you as well. 

Before he knows it, morning arrives. He starts to get ready. 

He brushes his teeth, packs his gym bag, and starts to eat breakfast. 

His legs shake, knees bouncing up and down in a nervous tick that hasn’t shown itself since high school. His laptop screen is up again, the flight ticket once again flashing bright. 

It’s a reminder. Now he knows that when it’s not reciprocal, the distance between the two of you is so much more than 18,000 kilometers and 12 hours. There’s no phone line, no facetime to shorten that distance, even if just by perception. 

Then, it’s a striking thought: a realization that postponing a plane ride those few days could cost him a lifetime.

He dials your number again. 

It rings, and rings, and rings. 

“... Hello?” 

“You picked up,” he hears himself say. 

“Sorry I missed yesterday, Toru.” He knows what you’re referring to without you saying it. “And I’m sorry I hung up… like that.” 

There’s a lot to say, but he can’t do it like this. So he asks, “will you wait for me to come home?” 

“Toru…” your voice breaks with the syllables of his name. He hears the reluctance in your tone. 

“If you want to break up, if you truly want to stop being with me,” it takes monumental effort for Oikawa to even speak of such an event. “Then say it to me in person. I have to know.” 

You’re silent in response. He’s glad you aren’t refusing, saying that the flight, the cost, the time isn’t worth itt. He’s glad that you agree it’s still a worthwhile conversation to have in person. He’s glad you haven’t given up. 

“Wait for me, okay? Please.” 

It takes a few simple clicks and a significant chunk of his savings to do what he does next. 

– 

For the entirety of the flight to Haneda International, Oikawa’s knees bounce, colliding uncomfortably with the seat in front of him. Even with what little affirmation you gave him by simply picking up his call, it brings him little comfort as there’s absolutely nothing he could do for the next 28 hours but sit tight. 

When the plane lands safely in Tokyo, local time of 9PM Sunday, Oikawa charms his way into getting off the plane first. He flashes a weak smile at all the people still in their seats of the plane, before rushing off with only his carry-on in tow. There’s no time to wait for a bus, so he shoves his way to the front of the taxi line, reciting your address as if it hadn’t been over 4 months since he’s been there. 

Every passing moment does little to ease his nerves, exacerbated even up until the moment he arrives at your door. The seconds pass in loud silence, the hollow sound of his knocking ringing in his ears. 

All the white noise fades, though, when the door opens and reveals you. No matter that your eyes are red and swollen, no matter that you’re wearing one of his old ratty Seijoh sweaters, no matter that the two of you are supposed to be breaking up.

“Toru,” you breathe. Oikawa forgets you’re supposed to sound like this, not the distorted, muffled imitation of your voice he hears through the phone too often. Yet another addition to his growing list of realizations. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but a single heave of a laughter bursts from his chest. “I told you I wanted to see you, didn’t I?” 

“But… your flight wasn’t supposed to arrive until Wednesday.” You’re cautious and he hates that. He wants you to be uncaring of the emotions you show around him, to jump into his arms and forgive him. He wants it back. 

“I changed my flight.” 

“But volleyball…” 

“That’s the thing,” he starts. “I think that’s probably one of the things I never made clear to you.” 

You look at him, confused. 

“Can I come in?” 

It stings when you instinctively fold your arms over your chest protectively, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the ground. 

 “Will you let me in?” he tries again. 

You look back up at him, moving to the side to let him in. 

When the door clicks shut behind him, the first thing Oikawa does is wrap you up in his embrace. His arms engulf you. He forces his hold to be gentle, on the chance that you push away. You don’t, so he holds on tighter and tighter, until you squeak from the pressure. He thinks he mumbles an apology, but he’s not really sure because all he registers is your arms coming up to grab his sweater. 

It’s not enough. 

You let him just hold you, for how long, he doesn’t know, until you finally squeak out his name. He reluctantly pulls away and starts talking, as if he wants to get the talking part over as fast as possible so he can pull you right back in again. 

“The thing I wanted to tell you,” he continues from before. “There’s no comparison – between you and volleyball, I mean.” 

“Toru, you know that’s not true.” 

Yes, it is,” he insists. “I’ve never seen volleyball as something that takes away from time that belongs to you. Every time you come to see me, or I go to see you, or when I push a flight, I’ve always seen that as just a… postponement of our time together, never that it would take away from it.” 

“Toru…” you push further away. 

“But, I think I get it now. I get that phone calls, video calls, text messages can’t be a substitute. I know because I almost forgot how your voice sounds outside of a phone and because I can’t accept us breaking up through a screen. And even more so because I can’t live off of the memory of how you feel.” 

When your gaze softens, he knows he got it right. It only took all this time for him to understand what you meant when you said things weren’t working; it was never about a postponed flight. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get it.” 

Your palm comes up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes a wet spot on his cheek. “Oh, Toru. I would never make you compare, I thought you knew that.” 

“I know,” he says. I know. And he does. 

“Sometimes, I just need to know you miss me as much as I miss you. I know you love volleyball,” 

“I love you,” he interrupts. 

“I know you love volleyball,” you continue. “And I would never want you to feel like you had to give any of it up for me. I just need to know that you feel what I feel too.” 

His hands at your waist squeeze, like he’s reassuring you that he does. 

“I know that you won’t be playing in Argentina forever. I was prepared to deal with long-distance for as long as it takes for you to be ready to come home. But-” 

He shakes his head like he doesn’t need you to say it. 

“No, let me say this. But, sometimes it felt like you were settling for how we were. Then… when you postponed the flight, I guess I was just bummed because I was so excited to see you. But you acted like it wasn’t a big deal.” 

Yeah, he did, didn’t he. 

“It felt like you would be just fine substituting me for the sport.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. 

There’s so much to explain and he’s afraid it would take too long. He needs to tell you that’s not how he feels and that it’s not true at all. And perhaps he’s become self-aware of his ability to grow numb to things like homesickness and he tried to apply that to you too so that he wouldn’t be crippled by the sheer magnitude of how much he truly missed – misses – you. And how appalled he was when he realized he was associating you with memories and nostalgia, as if you were a had-been and not a still-is. 

But you seem to understand because your hands are still gentle on his face and your gaze is affectionate. 

“Stop crying, you baby.” 

“I’m not crying!” he denies. 

“If you don’t stop crying, I won’t kiss you,” you tease. 

He clams up, biting on his lips to stop the hiccups. His eyes roll upwards to the ceiling, willing any tears to stop overflowing. 

You laugh lightly at the sight, voice still clearly weak from your crying marathon. 

He has a lot to apologize for, doesn’t he.

You lean upwards for a kiss. It catches him off guard to this day, how much you can express in your gentle affection. It’s another thing he can’t feel through a screen. 

With each kiss you press on his lips, he counts the things he has to apologize for, but more importantly he counts the things he needs to tell you he misses and loves about you when he inevitably puts the 18,000 kilometers between the two of you again. 

And he’ll do it. Every day. Until the day he finally comes home.

[natalievoncatte]

She had it. She actually had it, in her hands.

Myriad. The ultimate weapon of a dying race, brought to Earth to subjugate its people and rebuild an empire from a shattered world, possibly the key to saving this one. The key Lena needed to unlock Non Nocere and

(take over)

heal the world. End all strife. Eradicate all conflict. No more pain. No more deceit. No more greed, or cruelty, a world without malice, a peace without end.

No more lies.

It was in her hands, such a small petty little thing, barely more than a trinket.

Lena dropped it too sharply on the stainless steel lab table, took three steps, and vomited, the contents of her stomach noisily splashing at her feet. It was the effects of portal travel, she told herself- like jumping from a great height and into cold water at the same time.

(oh god what did I do)

She just needed a few moments to steady herself, collect her bearings, clean up.

(oh god oh god I hurt her what have I done)

Then, she could begin her work immediately. She shrugged out of her coat and found a bottle of vodka, hardly her weapon of choice, and took a pull straight from it to wash the

(pain away)

sour taste of her own puke out of her mouth and dull the sour churning in her stomach, because she couldn’t get the image out of her head, the image of Kara lying broken on the fortress floor with green lines of agony carved in her flawless skin and the most heartbroken look of remorse and fear in her eyes.

(Lena don’t do this)

(please don’t do this I’m SORRY)

Snatching the Myriad core from the lab table, she went to shove it into place. The final work would take only a few hours and then…

Lena stopped. Her hand hovered inches above her work. All she had to do was make the connection, but something was stopping her, as if her own arm revelled against her. She tasted puke and alcohol in her mouth and she was crying, hot tears burning down her cheeks in razor lines.

(Lena please)

No more lies.

It was heavy in her hand, the alien device suspiciously heavy and cool to her touch. Why didn’t she just do it? She was here, key in hand, ready to open the door and she couldn’t do it. Why?

Gritting her teeth, Lena took it in both hands, staring at it.

This was good. This was right. Lena had given Kara everything. Everything! Her friendship, her support, her comfort, her secret council. She killed her own brother for her and what did she get in return? Lies! Deception!

(soft hugs and kind words and powerful arms shielding her from harm and strong hands… holding her)

It had all meant nothing. It was all a lie.

Right?

It was, wasn’t it? It was! It had to be, she needed it to be! If it wasn’t, if she was wrong, then she betrayed and tortured the only person who cared about her for what? For this fucking thing?

Lena held Myriad over her head. She hadn’t even been aware she’d raised it high, ready to smash it to the ground. Bringing it down, she stared at the device and saw a stranger’s face, a distorted visage of a pale, stress-thinned woman with red-rimmed eyes.

Oh God.

The watch! There was still time. It still had the coordinates.

Lena’s hand hovered over the watch. She could push the button and erase the only way she’d ever reach the fortress again, and it would be decided. She’d make it permanent, make it real. She could finalize the destruction of the most important relationship she’d ever had. Deny Kara. Give her up.

(leave her locked in a cage of agony)

Lena pressed the button.

The portal opened behind her with a gust of wind.

She stepped through.

The first thing that hit her was the cold. She didn’t think to put her coat back on.

The second thing was a right hook from Alex Danvers that sent Lena sprawling across the floor and Myriad spinning out of her grip.

“You bitch,” Alex snarled. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. I should have put a bullet in the back of your head the first time you set foot in my town.”

Alex stood over her, boiling with fury.

“I knew it was all a lie. I knew! I know what you did. You and your little lip bites and your flirty looks and your coffee dates. Was breaking my little sister’s heart part of the plan or just a sadistic bonus?”

For once in her life, Lena was truly speechless. She stared up at her attacker, absently touching the trickle of blood from her split lip.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t,”

“You fucking did,” Alex hissed. “How dare you come back here? Didn’t you steal enough? Was the rest of the armory too much temptation for you?”

“I couldn’t leave her,” Lena choked out.

“Alex,” a harsh voice rasped, “that’s enough.”

Kara was on her feet, clutching her side. The Kryptonite had left her pale and pallid and hunched over a little, her normally bright eyes dull.

Lena pushed herself to her feet, wobbled, and started for Kara.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex stepped between them.

“I said that’s enough,” said Kara, pushing past her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena blurted. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Kara I…”

“Shhh,” Kara whispered. “It’s okay.”

Lena’s hands seemed to move on their own, palms cupping Kara’s cheeks. God, she was cold. She was shivering. Kara was shivering. She leaned into Lena’s grasp, falling against her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Kara said, gathering Lena in her arms.

“The hell it is,” Alex cut in. “Jesus Christ, she robbed the Fortress of Solitude! She hurt you, Kara!”

“I hurt her first.”

“Kara, she’s right.”

Kara shook her head.

“You can’t just forgive her!” Alex almost screamed.

Kara looked at Alex, then at Lena.

“You’re forgetting. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

The tears began to flow and Lena couldn’t stop them. She collapsed into Kara’s arms and sobbed, her body shaking with exertion.

Alex bent down and picked up Myriad.

“Give me that,” said Kara.

Alex looked at her quizzically, and placed the device in Kara’s hand.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked down at Lena.

“Do it,” Lena whispered.

Without the slightest appearance of effort, Kara closed her hand and the device exploded between her fingers, circuits and alien technology clattering to the floor.

“Let’s go home,” said Kara. “I think we need to talk.”

[inbarfink]

I think a lot about the Concept of ‘choices that matter’ in video games. Like, in terms of what it is that makes a choice ‘really matter’, what do we perceive as a choice that matters or has a consequence, how do different games with different amounts of branching or non-branching storylines play with those ideas…  Especially because Undertale is one of my favorite games of all time, and it has often been hyped as ‘a game where your choices REALLY matter’ and… honestly, I dunno if all of this hype was fully conducive to Undertale.  Because the way it handles the concept of Video Game Choices is actually a lot more interesting and complex than that simplistic descriptor makes it seem.

Because Undertale actually has a lot of choices that ‘don’t really matter’! Lots of dialogue choices and silly little decisions that on a first playthrough seem like they’re some sort of moral choice or a branching plotline but end up always leading to basically the same result regardless of what you do!

And the game doesn’t really try to hide the fact that these choices are kinda 'Fake'. I mean, on a first playthrough a player might assume there’s gonna be some Massive Consequences for picking the ‘wrong’ drink on Undyne’s date, but the game’s narrative expects for there to be multiple playthroughs and pretty much every Choice that Doesn’t Matter is peppered with that Undertale brand of wacky character-focused humor that inherently makes the moment memorable. Papyrus leading Undyne straight to you no matter what you do is basically a cross-timeline running gag.

On some level I see this as a sort of gag that serves as meta-commentary about the expectations around Choices That Matter in Video Games. As in, a lot of games have their Moral Choices happen in clearly easily marked ‘this is a Moral Choice!’ moments within the story, while the actual gameplay (and any violence the player might cause as part of said gameplay) is basically entirely divorced from any element of narrative-branching and doesn't effect the story at all. Undertale basically entirely inverts this dynamic; the most important factor for which Route you’re own is how you handle your FIGHTs, and what seems like clearly-marked and obvious Moral Choices are just goofy insubstantial minor changes in dialogue. 

But also… there is also a level where you must ask yourself ‘what does it mean when we say that these choices Don’t Matter’. I mean, it’s not like they didn't change anything about the game, the Player still made the character say that other thing, the choice probably led to an alternate piece of dialogue, probably a joke with a call-back at the end of the game… The line between a one-off joke and an actual story-changing moment can be a little blurry if you look at it too deeply.

For example, near the end of the Waterfall part of the game, the Player is given the choice to save Monster Kid even at the risk of having to face down Undyne.

Pretty much anyone who isn’t deliberately trying to be an asshole is going to rush to save them and obviously that includes the Pacifist Route Players. But you can actually leave Monster Kid to die without it 'mattering' in the sense that it wouldn't divert you from the Pacifist Route. Undyne saves them instead of you, and ends up with slightly less HP for her battle (which might Matter for Runs when you try and FIGHT her but obviously not in Pacifist Runs) and… by the end of the game, during the extremely happy True Pacifist Ending, they still clearly remember that you abandoned them and are upset by it.

So… does saving Monster Kid ‘matter’ or not? On one hand, choosing not to save them mostly just changes a few lines of dialogue but… these lines of dialogue kinda recontextualize this happy ending and the Player’s actions in general. Despite the True Pacifist Ending otherwise portraying the Player/Frisk as a kind-hearted and brave hero... they still did this undeniably cowardly (and perhaps even cruel) act to one of their friends .

Was running away and leaving Monster Kid to die a brief but significant moment of weakness that the Player regrets and has cost them what could’ve been the start of a lovely friendship? Or is that simply that being a True Pacifist was always more of a matter of pragmatism rather than ideals? Were they only acting as a Pacifist to get that promised 'Best Ending', and only Monster Kid has an inkling they are not as heroic or kind as everyone thinks they are?

And then there’s the Snowman ‘quest’.

A free healing item given early in the game, with your mission being to carry it along in your inventory for as long as you can without ever consuming it. The only reward you will ever see from it is a few lines of dialogue…

But for many, it is more than enough of an incentive to preserve the Snowman’s Piece. You can do whatever you want with the Snowman without it ‘mattering’ in terms of Ending or consequences. You could carry it through all of your adventures with care and kindness... or you could eat it while he can’t see you and then go back to him and tell him that you ‘lost’ it and then get another piece and eat that as well, you could eat it right in front of his face, horrifying him. 

And much like with Monster Kid, you can STILL get the True Pacifist Ending after doing that, all that would change is a few optional pieces of dialogue from the Snowman… 

And a total recontextualization of the Player’s behavior and the ending. The Snowman sees the Player as a cruel and heartless person who is just pretending to be good so they can be liked - the way they acted with this immobile, powerless Snowman who could do nothing for them and their reputation reveals their true self. And he says their friends will realize that too one day...

Doing a True Reset on the Pacifist Ending is, by definition, a (almost) consequence-free action and yet it changes future Pacifist Routes immeasurably. Turning the Player into a Hypocrite doing the exact same thing they were trying to stop Flowey/Asriel from doing - trapping all of their friends into a time-loop so they can play with them forever while never actually letting them to enjoy freedom on the surface, simply because they are not willing to move on or put their friends' wishes and agency above their own. Nothing in the game actually changes, not one character can even suspect that you did something like that, and yet for the Player - this choice makes the entire Meaning of the game flip on its head. 

Even the most famous and heavily-toted Big Consequence in the whole game - selling your soul to Chara after completing a Murder Route… mostly what it does is just… recontextualize the ending of the Game.

As a game, ‘Undertale’ is very much about the ways in which a Player engages with a game can radically recontextualize it. The huge chasm of difference between the Pacifist and Muder Routes is just the most literal example of it. But, in a way, even the tiny little Dialogue Options - where the lack of real choice and consequences is Obviously a Joke - matter. Because of the way they can recontextualize the Player Character’s behavior.

(Okay, maybe not this one, but hear me out…)

Do you trust Papyrus to not betray you, even after you spied on him with Undyne?

Do you have the integrity to admit you forgot something or got it wrong even when there’s no consequences for just lying about it?

Are you a hypocrite for trying to get Alphys to be truthful with Undyne only to then immediately turn around and lie to Undyne yourself?  

None of these choices matter for the ending, some of them don’t even get, like, a call-back joke or anything, but… if you are engaged in this story as a narrative, if you are invested in these characters as if they were people, if you are honestly trying to be the best person you can be, if you are trying to self-reflect at the way you approach this game… even the silliest little dialogue option can suddenly be imbued with deep implications and you can make them matter. 

Undertale is one of the best demonstrations of this concept, but this is absolutely not exclusive to it. For example….

‘Ace Attorney’ is pretty much as far away as you can get from a ‘branching narrative’ within the video game sphere. It is a heavily-linear Visual Novel where 70% of the time it won’t even let you talk to random characters at anything but the exact order it expects you to and any ‘Bad Endings’ are basically just glorified Game Over Screens. (... because this is the Internet and something something piss on the poor, I should probably specify that I am talking about ‘Ace Attorney’ because I love Ace Attorney and these are neutral descriptions of the game and not complaints. There’s nothing wrong with a game being linear.) 

If there’s any Dialogue Choice in AA, it’s generally a very basic ‘right answer-wrong answer’ choice between Progress and a Penalty, or a total non-choice that just gets you to the same final result regardless. Except… Well… as we just talked about, getting to the same final result doesn’t necessarily mean a choice is ‘meaningless’, does it?

There’s actually a lot of great storytelling moments where Ace Attorney, despite its otherwise strict linearity, uses this exact sort of recontextualizing mindset I’ve talked about with Undertale to make choices with some really powerful emotional impact…. Even if technically, the ending is the same ending. It can be something as basic as ‘even if picking this Wrong Answer doesn’t get me a penalty, it still embarrassed my character and disappointed my friends/rivals and thus I feel bad for picking it’. Consequences as recontextualizing your character as more incompetent than they should’ve come across at that moment.

And then there’s moments like the iconic ending of ‘Justice for All’. That moment before Franziska bursts into the Courtroom with the case-making evidence and saves the day. The moment where it seems like Phoenix really is gonna have to pick between protecting his best friend and carrying out a rightful sentence.

The player gets to pick between the two options, but Phoenix never gets to say his choice out loud before Franziska comes running in... and yet… he, and the player, still made that choice. Even if no one ever has to experience the consequences of your choice, even if the rest of the world has no idea what Phoenix Wright would’ve chosen if the Miracle hadn’t happened, we know what we picked and that knowledge of the choice matters. Because of how we feel about this choice and what it says about our interpretation of Phoenix… and about us.

There’s also a bit of this ludonarrative device in ‘The Great Ace Attorney: Adventures’. During “The Adventures of the Runaway Room”, when you investigate the Omnibus for the second time and start finding things that… don’t quite fit together. When you’re finally starting to make progress with proving McGilded’s innocence, while also maybe starting to notice that something is… wrong with these pieces of evidence. 

The unchanging linear narrative of the game is that Ryunosuke does eventually realizes McGilded's trickery, puts truth ahead of victory in court and yet, despite his effort and good intentions - the case still ends with a false Not Guilty verdict. And yet, the Player has the choice to... tweak the details.

There are several points where Ryunosuke can object, where he can call out the inconsistencies even though they help his case, where he can support Van Zieks in his accusations of tempered evidence... or he can not. Not necessarily intentionally misleading the Court as much as subconsciously trying to ignore the inconsistencies in the name of trusting his client.

And yet… in the end it doesn’t matter. Maybe Susato calls out the inconsistency instead of him, maybe Van Zieks does, maybe it remains uncontested but... no matter what you do, the case will end with a Not Guilty verdict (I mean, I guess you can deliberately fail the game but that will not progress the plot), McGilded doesn’t seem like he held a grudge (in the few minutes he had left to live), and a few cases later - Ryunosuke would always be punished for his part at this false verdict.

So it doesn’t really matter what Ryunosuke did back then? Does it matter if he did his best and called out every single inconsistencies or if he kinda half-assed it until he (and the Player) had to? He’s still going to suffer the same consequences down the line. And yet….

And yet, I think there’s something so powerful about giving us that option. About knowing that Ryunosuke, and we, did try and do something about McGilded's dirty tricks- even if it didn’t work. Or alternative, knowing that there was more that Ryunosuke and us could’ve done even if it was not nearly enough. Even if in the eyes of the game and the British Justice system there is no difference, the fact that we know what did and what we could’ve done can radically change the way the player feels about all of the later scenes concerning the truth about McGilded’s trial. It can radically change the way the player interpret Ryunosuke’s feelings about it as well.

Because even though the game itself keeps playing along with the same script regardless, that trial had irrevocable consequences for the Player.

[juiles]

Hiding it

Requested: yes

Summary: you’ve had adhd your whole life and have managed to keep it from your team and 2 year long girlfriends. They start to get snippy with you and when you get an injury and they find out, you snap a little.

Type: angst and fluff

Pairing: Wandanat x reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, blood, gunshot wound, fighting, yelling, argument

Important questions!!!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

A/N: so this idea was given to me by a very lovely reader and honestly i fell in love with the idea! I have ADHD and honestly it just gave me some outlet which i needed tbh.

————————————————————

Part 2

It had taken you 18 years to officially get diagnosed with ADHD. Your parents couldn’t have cared less about your well being which is why it took so long. You had been so shamed for the way you were that when you started with the Avengers, you just decided not to tell them. You had your coping skills and your medication. You didn’t need them to think anything less about you. The only person who knew was Cho and that was because she did your prescriptions for you.

You weren’t great at making sure they were refilled and that meant you messed up. Small things that wouldn’t normally set people off however, they were so consistent that people started to notice.

You had been dating Natasha and Wanda for a few years now and had managed to avoid them finding out so far. Perhaps that’s what had gotten you into this predicament. If you had just been honest with them, they wouldn’t have been so mean to you.

——————————————————

“Really y/n?! Again?!” You flinched, hearing Natasha’s voice rise slightly as you two sat in the quinjet while Tony flew you three home. “Why can’t you just pay attention?! God damn it. You could have gotten someone killed!”

You felt like sinking into the seat and disappearing from her line of sight and not saying anything, however that made her more mad. “Really?! You’re going to ignore me?!” She stood up, her hands flying up into the air as she stomped her way into the cockpit leaving you alone to overthink what had just happened.

You had lost track of the snipper that stood on the roof of the building across from you after Tony had mentioned a helicopter near by that you ALSO needed to keep an eye on. You couldn’t keep an eye on both but felt bad so instead of mentioning it to them, you tried to do both and in the attempt, last track of both of them. Luckily, Natasha had gotten the intel quick enough that the three of you were able to get out unscathed. Now it was just having to listen to them both bitch about your mistake.

Once the quinjet landed, you slowly grabbed your things and trudged outside, hoping to have Wanda comfort you but much to your dismay, Natasha had gotten to her first and as soon as the brunette landed her eyes in you, she instantly started berating you for being so careless and “how dare you be so risqué about Nattys life!”. This wasn’t the first time they had yelled at you. Last week, after a mission, the two of them ignored you for 3 days because of an accident you had. This time, instead of taking it, you trudged your way inside and instead of turning left and entering the bedroom the three of you shared, you went up 3 more doors and opened the door on the right to reveal your bedroom.

A room you hadn’t stayed in, in years due to moving into the shared room. You closed the door and threw your duffel on your bed and with a groan, you hauled ass to the bathroom to strip out of your suit and get in the shower. The warm water felt nice against your dirty skin and you relished in it however, the feeling only lasted a moment before you heard a door open and Natasha and Wanda were barging into your room causing you to get out of the shower and change into some spare clothes.

“Seriously y/l/n. That was a really reckless mistake that could have caused a life!” Wanda ranted storming into the room as you opened the bathroom door. “What if Natasha had gotten shot?! Huh?!” The guilt that already gnawed slightly at your stomach intensified as you ducked your head squeezing your eyes shut. “I would have NEVER forgiven you if something had happened to her! Do you understand me?!” You nodded softly before Natasha grabbed the witch’s hand.

“Come on love. Let’s go have a shower hmm?” She said, loud enough for the words to sting you. “I don’t want to see her face right now.” With that the two left, slamming your bedroom door shut, causing you to jump. You stayed in your room for 2 days after that. No one except Pepper cared enough to come and check on you. The woman had been bringing you food, which you barely touched and reminded you to sleep.

On the third day, Fury came knocking and told you that you had a mission and to be in the jet in 15 minutes. You stuffed your duffel bag, threw on your suit and slipped your way to the jet, managing to avoid your angry girlfriends.

The mission, which was supposed to be an easy single person intel recon, turned into a 3 day stakeout where you ended up getting shot in the shoulder at the end right before escaping. Upon your return, you were whisked away to the medbay where Cho, Natasha and Wanda were waiting. The latter two, with angry looking faces. “Come on Y/l/n. Let’s get that stitched up hmm?” Cho said guiding you to sit down as you actively avoided the assassin and the witch standing beside you.

“Where the hell were you?! You didn’t tell anyone you were gone y/n/n! What if you died?!” Wanda said, fear and anger etched into her features.

“It was stupidly reckless y/n.” Natasha said, her face her normal calm facade.

Cho sent the two looks to shut up as she finished stitching you up. “I’m assuming since you were gone for three days that you didn’t take your meds so when you take them tomorrow, remember you’re going to have side effects okay? Also, you need to come and get a refill soon.” Cho said softly to you as she finished up the bandage.

Your eyes widened and your head whipped up to look at her before quickly stealing a glance at the two avengers frozen beside you. “M-medications?! Side effects?!” Natasha stuttered out. “What is she talking about detka?”

Chos eyes widened commically as she looked at you. “I thought they knew! I’m so sorry y/n/n!!” the doctor rushed out. You simply shook your head and muttered an assurance that it was okay before she skittered out the door. You slowly stood with a grunt and brushed past your two girlfriends with the intent to head back to your room to clean up. They followed behind you, scrambling with their words before you quickly stopped and turned on your heel with an angry look on your face.

“Shut up!” You seethed at the two who froze and stared at you wide eyed. “God for once just stop. Not that it’s any of your business but i have ADHD. A pretty severe case and Cho does my meds for me. All those “stupid little reckless mistakes” were caused by something i have NO control over. You two couldn’t have given two shits about me for the past 5 days so why the fuck would you care now?!” You felt all the anger in your body start to boil up. “FUCK!” In a state of anger, you turned around and punched a hole in the wall beside you which caused your knuckles to start bleeding however, it seemed as if you didn’t even notice as you continued to punch the wall with no thought to your safety at all.

The girls were in a state of shock for a moment before Natasha grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from the wall, Wanda using her powers to hold your hands still. “Baby stop! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” Wanda said walking towards your angry looking figure, your eyes narrowed on her as she reached her hand up and cupped your cheek which seemed to snap you back to reality. “Take a deep breath my love. Just take a moment okay?”

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared into her blue eyes then turned to face Natasha’s green ones. “I-I’m sorry… i’m sorry i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I c-can’t always stop it.” You muttered pulling your hands to your chest. “Without t-the meds I-I don’t have good control of my emotions… they-they feel like they’re trying to rip through my body…” Wanda merely hushed you as Natasha pulled your shaking form into her body, being extra cautious of the now open and bleeding wound on your shoulder.

“No detka. We’re sorry. Were sorry we couldn’t help you and instead just got angry with you…” Natasha murmured into your hair. “Why didn’t you say anything…?”

You merely shook your head and clutched to her shirt with your bleeding hands as your body began to rack with sobs. “Shhhh… you’re okay malyshka. Let’s go to our room hmm?” You nodded softly as the two lead you into your shared bed and settled down, with you curled up between them. You sat and cried for a while before the sobs turned u to sniffles and Wanda pulled away causing you to whimper.

“I’m just getting the first aid kit my love. We need to restitch your shoulder and bandage your hands okay? I’ll be 2 minutes.” With a kiss pressed to your forehead, the witch shot off and was back in less than a minute with a full first aid kit in hand. You were shifted to be leaning into her warm body as Natasha started cleaning you up. The three of you sat in silence as this happened until you were all bandaged up and securely back in their arms.

“I’m a burden…” You whispered softly. Wanda went to say something but got stopped by a look from Natasha. They knew you needed to get it out. “I’m a burden and weak and stupid. That’s what they called me…”

“Who detka…?”

“My parents… kids at school… teachers…. I was never good enough and when i turned 18 and finally got diagnosed with ADHD it made sense to me but i feel this gnawing shame in my stomach. A shame that was shoved in me from birth. That who I am is nothing more than a burden and no one should have to deal with me. The meds help a lot… i appear almost normal. Those times the boys have jokingly told me I’m annoying and it seems like i have a big reaction to it is because it’s my biggest fear. That my family will leave me again, that everyone i live will get bored with having to help me with everyday tasks and leave me alone again… I know i can be a lot sometimes. I know i can be stand off ish. But i’m scared. I can’t handle losing another family…” You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back the tears as you tried to wriggle out of the girls arms before the two pulled you in tighter and squeezed you, the both pressing kisses to your hair and face while whispering assurances to you.

“No baby. You are not a burden. You are not annoying. You are not too much. You are our perfect girl. We are so sorry we messed up but you need to know that you love you with everything in our hearts and we NEVER want you to be alone again or feel like you’re weak because you’re so strong.” You scoffed lightly rolling your eyes at Wanda’s words.

“You are y/n. You are so strong to be holding all of this to yourself and not be able to tell anyone else but never again okay? From now on, Wanda and I will be here for you. To support you and love you and care for you. In the ways people should have when you were little.” Natasha said, with a finality in her tone and a kiss on your head, making you believe she was telling the truth to some extent.

Of course it wasn’t perfect after that but they kept true to their word. Everyday, the would remind you of their love for you in the small things. They would make sure you had taken your pills and eaten more than an energy drink with them. They would leave kisses on your head as you walked past. They set reminders on their phones to remind you that you had a load of laundry in or that you had said you would do the dishes. Small things to remind you that they will fight by your side through it all. While they may have seemed insignificant to the others, you knew how much these small things meant and you cherished them all.