#thr one thing he TRULY CHERISHES

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

His EYES in the light of this scene 💜💜

[darkbluekies]

Hey blue <3 I’ve been out of tumblr for a while, I do hope your slowly healing, none of us know what ur going through truly so we can only wish you the best, though I hope you know your audience are always here if you ever need to ramble or spill.

Keep your head up my love, your strong and I know you’ll make your Grandpa and everyone else proud, truly❤️

Thank you so much. Things right now are tougher than I let people know, there are so much things going on at the same time and it feels like my body can't handle them all, but I'm trying to keep my mood up! You dont have to worry about me. Distracting myself with writing is a good thing.

We're bringing my grandmother to us for new years so she doesn't have to be alone, and apparently she's bragged about it to her helpers haha she's so cute

My grandfather was a man so before his time, if that makes sense? Being born in the 1930s, he wasn't old fashioned. He was weirdly modern and probably a feminist, even though never called himself one. His actions spoke for him and they were beautiful actions. He never judged me or separated me from my male cousins. If I wanted to build a guillotine model, then we did. We even did thr bastille(?) and he always said "you should bring this to school when you learn about it" so I did. Let's say the kids in my class liked playing with the guillotine, putting their fingers in and whatnot.

He repaired my porcelain dolls when they broke, calling himself "the doll surgeon" and helped make a stand for my 1 meter tall girl. He created name signs for all of my dolls so that I wouldn't forget. He loved my dolls.

I could talk about this man for hours and hours but this post is already becoming long so ill stop here♡ he said multiple times that he was proud of me and that he cherished me, and that always made me so happy. I will dedicate my first published book to him♡

[bookeysnewsletter]

The Little Prince: A Heartwarming Tale of Self-Discovery

Chapter 1 What's The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The Little Prince is a beloved novella written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, originally published in 1943. The story follows a young prince who travels from planet to planet, meeting various quirky characters along the way. Through his encounters, he learns valuable life lessons about friendship, love, and the importance of seeing with the heart rather than just the eyes. The book is a poignant exploration of the human experience and has been translated into numerous languages and remains a timeless classic for readers of all ages.

Chapter 2 The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Summary

"The Little Prince" is a classic novella written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. The story follows a young prince who travels from planet to planet, meeting various characters along the way.

The prince leaves his own tiny planet, which he describes as a speck of nothingness in the vast universe, and embarks on a journey in search of answers to life's big questions. Along the way, he meets a series of adults who are each preoccupied with their own concerns and fail to see the true beauty and importance of life.

Through his interactions with these characters, the little prince learns valuable lessons about love, friendship, and the importance of seeing with the heart rather than just the eyes. He also meets a wise fox who teaches him that the things that matter most are invisible to the eye.

In the end, the little prince returns to his own planet and reunites with a rose who he loves dearly. The story ends on a bittersweet note, as the prince's time on Earth comes to an end and he returns to his home in the stars.

Overall, "The Little Prince" is a touching and thought-provoking story that explores themes of innocence, human nature, and the importance of looking beyond the surface to truly see the beauty in the world.

Chapter 3 The Little Prince Author

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry was a French writer, poet, and aviator, best known for his novella "The Little Prince" (Le Petit Prince). The book was first published in 1943.

Some of his other notable works include "Night Flight" (Vol de nuit), "Wind, Sand and Stars" (Terre des hommes), and "Southern Mail" (Courrier Sud).

In terms of editions, "The Little Prince" is by far his most famous and widely published work, with countless editions and translations in various languages around the world. The 75th anniversary edition released in 2018 is considered one of the best editions, as it includes restored original illustrations and annotations by Saint-Exupéry himself.

Chapter 4 The Little Prince Meaning & Theme

The Little Prince Meaning

"The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is a timeless fable that explores themes of love, friendship, and the importance of seeing with the heart rather than the eyes. The story follows a young prince who travels from planet to planet, encountering various characters along the way. Through these encounters, the prince learns important lessons about the nature of humanity and the true meaning of life.

At its core, "The Little Prince" is a reflection on the complexities of human relationships and the value of understanding and connecting with others on a deeper level. The prince's journey serves as a metaphor for our own search for meaning and purpose in life, as well as the trials and tribulations that come with growing up and facing the challenges of adulthood.

Overall, "The Little Prince" is a heartfelt and poignant story that encourages readers to embrace their inner child, hold onto their sense of wonder, and cherish the simple joys of life. It reminds us of the importance of friendship, love, and empathy, and encourages us to look beyond the surface to truly appreciate the beauty and richness of the world around us.

The Little Prince Theme

One of the main themes of The Little Prince is the importance of human connection and relationships. Throughout the story, the Little Prince forms meaningful bonds with various characters he encounters on his journey, including the Aviator and the Fox. These relationships teach him about love, friendship, and the value of emotional connections.

Another key theme in the book is the idea of innocence and purity. The Little Prince is portrayed as a pure and innocent character who sees the world in a different way than adults. His childlike perspective allows him to perceive the beauty and wonder of the world, which is often lost on grown-ups who are preoccupied with material concerns.

Additionally, The Little Prince explores the theme of the search for meaning and purpose in life. The Little Prince travels from planet to planet in search of answers to his questions about life and humanity. Along the way, he learns important lessons about the nature of existence and the importance of following one's heart and intuition.

Overall, The Little Prince is a poignant and thought-provoking fable that explores universal themes of love, friendship, innocence, and the search for meaning in life.

Chapter 5 Quotes of The Little Prince

The Little Prince quotes as follows:

1. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

2. “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

3. “People have forgotten this truth," the fox said. "But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.”

4. “All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.”

5. “You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.”

6. “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”

7. “One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”

8. “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”

9. “You’re beautiful, but you’re empty...One couldn’t die for you. Of course, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than all of you together, since she’s the one I’ve watered. Since she’s the one I put under glass, since she’s the one I sheltered behind the screen. Since she’s the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except the two or three butterflies). Since she’s the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she’s my rose.”

10. “You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.”

Chapter 6 Similar Books Like The Little Prince

1. "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee - This classic novel explores themes of racial injustice, empathy, and compassion through the eyes of young Scout Finch. It is a powerful and thought-provoking read that continues to resonate with readers today.

2. "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald - Set in the Roaring Twenties, this novel follows the lives of the wealthy and privileged residents of Long Island. Through the eyes of narrator Nick Carraway, readers witness the rise and fall of the enigmatic Jay Gatsby and the emptiness of the American Dream.

3. "1984" by George Orwell - A dystopian classic, this novel imagines a totalitarian society where individualism is suppressed, and Big Brother watches over every aspect of citizens' lives. It is a chilling warning about the dangers of unchecked power and government control.

4. "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen - This beloved novel follows the spirited Elizabeth Bennet as she navigates social norms, family dynamics, and matters of the heart in Regency-era England. With its sharp wit, memorable characters, and timeless themes, it remains a favorite among readers of all ages.

5. "The Catcher in the Rye" by J.D. Salinger - This coming-of-age novel follows the rebellious teenager Holden Caulfield as he grapples with feelings of alienation, disillusionment, and loss. Through his poignant and candid voice, Salinger captures the angst and confusion of adolescence in a way that continues to resonate with readers.

Book  bookey.app/book/the-little-prince

Quotes  bookey.app/quote-book/the-little-prince

The Great Gatsby  bookey.app/book/the-great-gatsby

To Kill a Mockingbird  bookey.app/book/to-kill-a-mockingbird

Youtube  youtube.com/watch?v=gf-VHmevSdM

Amazon  amazon.com/Little-Prince-Antoine-Saint-Exup%C3%A9ry/dp/0156012197

Goodreads  goodreads.com/book/show/157993.The_Little_Prince

[watchmegetobsessed]

EVERYDAY THINGS

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNING: slightly sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry loves the everyday things, especially when they include you. Like going to the supermarket in the night because you want ice-cream and then shagging in the car, because he can't keep his hands to himself.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry finds great comfort in the most everyday things. Living his life as a global superstar he cherishes the simplest things way more than others probably. They keep him grounded, reminding him of what truly matters when he feels like he is lost in the madness of being famous.

He tends to get wrapped up in this feeling whenever he is with you. You’re the anchor that keeps him where he needs to be, he can always hold onto you whenever he needs to feel like himself after masking his true self for too long for the world.

After weeks of nonstop working he is finally back home for a while with nothing to do, so he can spend all of his time the best way possible.

With you.

You’ve taken a few vacation days out as well to spend some uninterrupted time with your boyfriend, it’s been hard to barely see him in the past weeks so all you wanted was to be practically glued together with him and make up for all the time you missed.

It’s a hot summer night, the two of you are watching something you found on Netflix, you’re cuddled up on the couch, bodies melted together as you’re basically lying on top of him. Wearing only a loose top and your panties, the skin to skin contact feels so comforting since Harry is only in his boxer briefs too. Your not too modest outfits might have something to do with the intense sex you just had on the couch prior to starting the movie.

His fingers keep dancing and grazing across your back while you listen to his steady heartbeat underneath your face. It’s been a perfect lazy day, spent inside and alone, far away from the rest of the world.

Lifting your head you turn it so you can press a few soft kisses to his bare chest before resting your chin on his sternum. He peeks down at you, his double chin making an appearance thanks to this position, but even that looks good on him. Or maybe you’re just so hopelessly in love with him that he could be dressed like a clown and you’d still have heart eyes for him.

“Mmm?” he hums, smiling, his hands reaching down to your hips and giving them a squeeze. “I kind of crave ice-cream,” you say, pursing your lips as you bring a hand up on his chest and start tracing patterns onto his cheek.

“Don’t think we have any,” he frowns and you give him a pouty look. “I don’t think we can order this late,” he sighs, mirroring your expression.

“How about a late night supermarket trip?”

“You’re willing to get off of this couch?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you. “You want it that badly?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Alright then, let’s get dressed.”

Thirty minutes later you’re wandering down the aisles of a nearby supermarket that’s open until eleven in the night so you still have almost an hour until closing time. Harry’s hand is clasping yours, the other one holding a basket as you grab different kinds of snacks off the shelf, tossing them into the basket. You both knew it won’t be just ice-cream you return with. Your period is about to start soon so you’re craving basically anything and everything.

“How about some soda?” Harry asks, spotting a freezer down the aisle.

“Can you get me some Sprite, please?” you smile and he just nods, pressing a kiss to your temple before going to get the drinks while you decide on what kind of gummy bears you want.

He gets two cans of Sprite for you and some kind of juice for himself, before turning around to check on you, seeing you at the same exact spot, several packs of sweets gathered in your arm as you reach for another. You’re wearing a baggy shirt that’s longer than the shorts underneath, making it appear like you have nothing on. You put on your favorite pair of sneakers you’ve worn so much they are practically falling off your feet, but you still refuse to throw them out.

No makeup, no neatly styled hair, the cellulite on your thighs are very much on display and there’s that scar from your childhood on your ankle, all of these things often come up as your insecurities, what keeps you from seeing just how wonderful you really are.

And yet, you’re completely perfect to him. Inside and out, he is absolutely enamored by you and the fact that you chose him to be with. It all washes over him like a tidal wave, the love he has for you, the time he spent with you and the life with you that’s ahead of him. He couldn’t be happier than at this moment in the middle of a grocery store sometime after 10 pm.

Walking up to you he takes the packages from your hold and tosses them into the basket before curling his arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Ompf, hello to you too, Mister,” you chuckle, snaking your hands to the base of his neck as he keeps you tight in his hold.

“You look good. Like, really good,” he hums, his hand sliding down your back until it reaches your ass and he can give it a good squeeze.

“Is it my unwashed hair or the food stain on my shirt that’s got you so worked up all of a sudden?” you roll your eyes, but still feel your cheeks heating up from the random compliment.

“Both of them. But I also love the hickey that’s showing from under your shirt,” he grins and leaning down he kisses the mark he left on you earlier, so pleased and full of himself, knowing there are a few more underneath your clothes. Last night turned out to be a bit rough and when he saw the marks on you he was so worried he went too hard, but you assured him that was exactly what you wanted.

He nudges his nose against your jaw before pressing a sloppy kiss to it, moving his lips up to your mouth.

“I wish there weren’t any cameras in here. I would love to shag you right here and now,” he mumbles against your lips.

“What turned you into a horny teenager?” you giggle as his hand squeezes your ass again, bringing your hips closer to his and now he is not the only one getting aroused in a damn supermarket.

“My sexy girlfriend who I love very much.”

You get lost in the moment for a bit, kissing way too heatedly than you probably should be in a public place, but you just can’t help it. However, you need to put an end to it.

“Babe, let’s get the ice-cream so we can head home and continue this,” you suggest out of breath.

“Mm, too long, need you now.”

“Okay, then let’s at least make it to the car,” you chuckle.

Harry growls and unwillingly stops himself before taking your hand to pull you down the aisle fast, towards the freezers.

He basically makes you run to the checkout when you have what you originally came here for and he keeps getting handsy when you’re paying, though the middle aged woman doesn’t even seem to notice a thing.

He can barely keep himself together as you sprint through the empty parking lot and it’s probably way too risky for his status to be shagging in a car, but he couldn’t care less as he takes you on the backseat. At first it’s uncomfortable and someone is always falling off the seat, but when you finally end up straddling his lap and bouncing on his throbbing cock, neither of you cares about the rest of the world. Harry pulls you close to his chest as you relentlessly move, your moans filling the car until you come hard. You squeeze him and it pushes him over the edge too, filling you up so good as if you haven’t had sex in ages even though the last time was just hours ago.

Then you get home and eat the melted ice-cream and all the snacks you bought, watching funny YouTube videos before you end up making love again, this time in your bed. It’s slow and intimate, so sweet and full of love that you have for each other, Harry wishes he could spend all of his days like this, wrapped up in the sheets with you, the woman who has his heart, soul and body.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[potatotrash0]

Ok so o have bits and pieces of an au that I got from my dream but

AU where Nagito actually had a toxic ex lover/childhood lover (not abusive, but obsessive) that they grew up with and broke up with and lost contact with (but they still loved him), and they were completely separated during thr despair arc. As Nagito's dementia worsened, just like the memories of his parents, he slowly forgot about his first love too, until everytime he tries to think only a vague outline of a person comes to mind. The most of his childhood he can remember anyways is the traumatic parts.

Anyways, ex finding Nagito after the despair arc and so hopefully that he's alive, but when he calls out Nagito's name, his heart drops when there is no recognition in Nagito's eyes.

Nagito has suffered enough torture and heartbreak in his life, but he's finally managed to make peace for himself, free of his illnesses and working for the future foundation with his lover, Hajime, but the look of utter devastation in this person's eyes puts a pit in his stomach. Hajime has an easier time realizing what is happening, and he's torn between holding Ko closer, tighter, and never letting him go, and letting Nagito have a chance to talk to this person. Nevertheless he tries to help or stay out of the way (keeping both parties safe)

Nagito truly looked different now than he was years ago. Unearthly, ghostly, or heavenly, they're not sure, but a beauty none the less. The tip of their tongue dances behind their lips when they see his figure, and the infectious feeling of hope and lovesick yearning that's been bottled up come oozing out of their pores.

"Nagito...?"

And he turns around, slowly, slowly, and with every second they can see his figure, the affection takes over more of his brain. Nagito's hair dances likes a halo when the sun light hits his hair, because he's glowing, he's glowing and he's beautiful but this, has always been different kind of beauty. Only Nagito could do this.

Nagito fully turns around, sickly pale, soft, and the personification of a broken beauty, and their stomach swoops down and the blood rushes to their brain faster than they can regain their footing.

(He doesn't know, that someone can see, has been watching him flounce the beginning, and can see the deep seeted smoking swirling through their eyes and they don't like it.)

Worship, is the words that describes it. They want to hold him close, close, and never let him go, to spend the rest of their life devoting every thought to the thing they've taken for granted and had lost for years. An angel amongst humans must be cherished.

There is a glint of something in Nagito's eyes, and their heart soars, before it sinks down, down, down, and nono nonono--

"I'm sorry dear, I don't seem to think we've met before."

Yikes sucks to be Ex skfjskjdks. Ack idrk what to add on but I am loving the angst even if the one angsting has no real identity lmao

[mochikeiji]

Brighter Than Any Star

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

↠ Warning: None, just fluff for the birthday boy (hint of suggestion in the end)

↬ Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: Happy Birthday to our shining ace!!! Truly you are brighter than any star in this world and I hope you continue on your dreams and inspire so many people

( ˘ ³˘)♥ we love you, Bokuto san!!!

Stars are captivating during the might sky. Many are mesmerized by the glimmering, sparkles they occur and would get lost into them, just staring in awe with no words to describe the kind of euphoria they were in.

Luckily tonight happened to be thr most beautiful night for the stars to form their utmost of shine and dancing across the dark sky.

With a bottle of wine half empty placed on the gray blanket above the grassy ground and snacks that had been already consumed not too long ago, the only sound that can be heard was the singing of crickets and the soft, cooling gust of wind tickling your naked shoulders, everything felt so calming.

Head empty, just cherishing the aura the night possessed.

And the small, circular cake that lit up candles with cute designs illuminating your front view, biting back the smile and erupting a giggle from the excitement bubbling in you as you stared at the grown man infront of you.

"Kou."

He hums at the same level of bliss you had. He had his eyes closed after chowing down into the food you had prepared for him, now he was feeling a bit drowsy after satisfying his stomach. He was always like this after every meal you shared with him, it usually ends up to a lont day of cuddling session and soon a night's peaceful sleep.

Except now was a special night for him. The skin intimacy can wait later.

"Can you turn around for me?"

He did as he was told nonetheless, the sight made your breath hitch and your eyes now strained onto the scenario right infront of you.

He looked so adorable with a smile adorning his feature with the candle lights making his face glow. The background behind him was the city lights of Tokyo and last the unmatched glimmer of the night sky twinkling that made his owl like hair highlight into the palette of colors.

The grin on his face growing even more than his usual smirk during the games at the sight of you obviously in daze because of him. From his view, he was looking at you with the same drey eyes you had in you. He looked at you in a different kind of gleem; one that was far from how he looks at a volleyball or his passion.

This look was for the love of his life— You.

"Baby, you look like you've something so unreal."

He lets out an airy laugh at the peak of your lips that have parted seconds ago from being lost in the scene.

"Sometimes I really think you're ethereal, Kou."

Every detail of his small movements you can see, he was biting his lips from squealing on how cute you were being in a love dazed trance, and part of him was biting back the blush from the sweet casts of worded spells that escaped your lips.

Every praise and compliment you would offer him with full sincerity and love has decorated his thoughts from the day you became his, brighter things became impossibly blinding for him as your love grew for him.

From highschool sweethearts, his university baby, his number one fan and to his now proposed fiancee. Everything was getting brighter yet he chooses not to look away from the glow you in this world of his exists.

And who are you to hide that you think the same to your soon to be husband?

"I tried making today perfect for your birthday. I'm sorry I could only think of this, you must've been tired from practice, I didn't want you to have to dress up formally if we were going to celebrate in a restaurant."

He had always made everyday seem like a life anyone would kill for. Everyday was like a fairytale coming true with him, and yet the guilt and thoughts of you doing less in a relationship to give him what he truly deserves is always there.

"How can you say this isn't already perfect when you're the only one topping all of these?"

So slick and sly, and so heart warming of him to assure your ocean of anxieties. There isn't a day Bokuto would leave you in that mind of yours and a day where he never speaks what his heart wanted you to hear.

"Then," crawling closer to him with your knees on the blanket, holding the cake steadily in front of him with your back shielding the candles from the calmed wind, you raised it up a little to his lips level and smiled lovingly,

"Will you make a wish?"

Life seemed to always have been on his side since the day he had graduated. He had mastered being the "Only Ace" that didn't need to be coddled anymore, he had become the official starting member of a world famous volleyball team which was the Black Jackals as his passionate job and dream, became Japan's strongest team, he had the loving supporting friends, family and fans from all around the world, and now he had the girl who has always been there for him soon to become his wife.

What more can he ask if all his wishes came true in a blink of an eye?

He thought about it carefully. It seemed childish to believe that wishes do come true, but when his eyes were settled on your dreamy ones, everything that has happened in his life came by in a flash as he grows another age older, another opportunity to make more beautiful memories.

And so, with his eyes closed and a soft smile on his face, he blows out the candles from the cake, the oddly satisfying smell of the fire coming off filling your nostrils as the delicious scent of the pastry follows.

Grinning with your eyes crinkling as well, you began to cut a small slice for the both of you to enjoy as the night was closing in to its end. It had been a fun evening, just you, him, piled in food and the beautiful atmosphere other's wouldn't be able to witness. It was all too good.

"So, what did you wish for?"

Both of you were chewing on the soft sponge cake as your head was on his shoulder, his arm around yours to keep you warm after noticing how you were shivering a lot a whole ago.

He swallows his dessert down, licking the left over frosting in his lips with his hand instinctively rubbing your shoulders as a small sign of affection and soothing touch for him. He just loved how his hands were bigger and able to hold your soft, warm body against him.

"I wished for you to be as happy as I am now."

You loved how he would smile with his teeth showing. Only even more with the stars and moon highlighting his prominent features, and only you were able to witness this because he was all yours.

"You didn't have to give me your wish. You're lucky I made a wish for you as well."

"And what would that be, baby?"

The next line he hears coming from you made his heart race and his face heated. But he didn't over react to it, instead, he had pulled you even closer, placing both your emptied plates down as he muzzles his face on the side of your exposed neck, not before pulling your face for his own birthday kiss and muttering in your ear how he was anticipating his extra birthday gift later at your shared home when he noticed how short and revealing your dress was for the occasion.

"I wish you would continue to shine in your own way. Because for the longest time, you have always been the brightest star in the world."

[for-ests]

Please Don’t Go: Kageyama Tobio x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: You and Kageyama (college) have been in a relationship for three years, but recently have not been spending a lot of time together because of his volleyball and school commitments. You decide to confront him about it and cause a fight.

Warnings: angst, verbal fight, car accident

Word count: 2, 890

Tossed awake by nothing in particular, your eyes felt heavy as you immediately glanced at the bedside alarm clock. You sighed loudly when you realized how late it was. Another night of restless sleep without Kageyama laying beside you. Unfortunately, this had become a routine ever since his collegiate volleyball team had started training for nationals.

You sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes. The fan in the corner of the room blocked out any other noise that could be heard from the open window. It was perfect for your sleeping patterns, yet you could not sleep peacefully knowing he was stressed at an hour meant for rest.

You had become so accustomed to feeling his weight shift beside you, feeling his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist—you craved that now more than anything. Especially when you woke up to see that same cheeky grin every morning.

Maybe you had become too accustomed, too reliant on his comfort. Regardless, that was now a rarity. It had been days since either of you had truly slept well enough to feel satisfied. You knew Kageyama, and knew he needed to sleep whether he was going to admit it or not.

And with that thought already clouding your hazy vision, you set out into the living room to find him. Hoping you could beckon him back to the bed.

"Kageyama?" You called, voice raspy with drowsiness. No reply sounded, so you ventured into the dimly lit kitchen.

You rounded the corner without a second thought, surprised to find him hunched over his laptop at the dinning room table. He was typing away, eyes wide in focus. He was so zeroed in on his work that he hadn't noticed your arrival, until you placed your hand on his shoulders.

"Babe?" You whispered, your touch causing Kageyama to finally pay attention to you. Surprised, he flinched.

"What?" The man replied shortly, meeting your gaze with obvious indications of annoyance.

You blinked, affronted by his lack of empathy or concern about how the tone of his voice would sound. All you wanted was what was best for him, and you were confident that this new routine of his was not it.

Kageyama was never the one to be up front with his feelings, but that had never been the case with you. As far as you could remember, your boyfriend was always kind and forthcoming. The two of you rarely fought, even with his sometimes overconfident demeanor. You knew him better than anyone, and you were absolutely sure that coming back to bed with you was the best thing in that moment.

"What do you want Y/N?" Kageyama's voice questioned coldly again. His expression was the hardest you had ever seen. It was past the point of stressed, he was utterly frustrated. At you...you were not sure.

He's not mad at me.

It took you a moment to reply, trying to remind yourself that he was working harder than you could ever hope to. You tried to keep your expression neutral and your voice steady as you replied. "I want you to get some sleep," You leaned against the counter to study the disorganized state of the table. "It's almost 3am."

"I already told you I'm pulling an all nighter." He sighed, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "I have to get my grades up if I want to participate in the next tournament. I'm already on academic probation for failing one class."

Kageyama glanced away, tempted to resume his work. You could see the agitation and desperation in his movements. Sometimes you thought that he took volleyball too seriously. How could someone put themselves through this amount of stress?

His contempt almost caused you to lash out, but you held your tongue to study him further. You noticed that his forehead had creased with red lines of frustration.

Kageyama finally glanced at you because of the delay in your reply. Your eyes pierced into him and his face flashed with guilt, but only for a split second.

"You did the other night." Your tone came out harsher than you intended. It was hard for you to understand how he couldn't recognize the damage that he was inflicting on his own mental health. "You'll focus better with a good nights rest."

Truthfully, his current state of being saddened you. He did not seem to realize how his decisions were affecting you in return. Part of you felt like this could be a result of your tendency to be passive, and to let things that bothered you slide one too many times. But the other part of you knew you were not supposed to be his mother. You were not responsible for Kageyama's actions. He was doing this to himself, against your best wishes.

You narrowed your eyebrows before reminding yourself to not grow angry. Kageyama was the type of person to listen better when there were no accusations thrown his way.

"Please, Tobio." You stared at him, even if he would not hold your gaze. All you craved was to be in his embrace, and to forget about the tension that was building up with his refusal. "You can finish whatever you're doing in the morning.  Please at least get a few hours. I slept over for a reason, to be with you." Trying to convey your concern, you rested your hand back on his shoulder, attempting to pull him into a hug. You wanted him to know that you could tell how frustrated he was, but that you were not upset past the point of no return.

Yet your words had the opposite effect, and at your once comforting and cherished touch, Kageyama snapped. "No, Y/N!" He almost yelled, pushing your hand away. "I have to finish my homework now or I can't participate. There's no point on being in college if I can't play."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you let your grades slip. Volleyball comes second to your future." Your voice cracked at the last line.

Forthright, you felt betrayed. All the past nights where you had let his actions slide came flooding back like a slap in the face. You were on your last leg, watching him deteriorate and then snap at you when you tried to give him comfort. If he did not want your company, then so be it.

You had your own future to worry about.

"I always think about it! Just leave me alone for one fucking night and stop nagging!" Kageyama's eyes turned cold, his way of ending the conversation. For some odd reason, he believed his words would not offend you.

Irritated beyond belief, you bit your lip to keep yourself from crying. How could he do this to himself? To you and your relationship?  You couldn't tell if you were overreacting, but deep down you knew you were not.

"Fine." Your voice came out in a whisper of acceptance. And with that, you left the room. Kageyama did not even turn to watch you leave.

You rushed into his bedroom and started to pack. Your movements were hectic as you shoved your belongings into your small overnight bag. You were shaking at this point, wondering if you had the strength to end things with him. You loved Kageyama with all your heart, but you couldn't continue on like this.

I just need to be alone. I need to clear my head. It's too early for this.

You stopped once the bag was full. For a moment, you almost considered staying. Then you remembered his words, laced with venom and annoyance at you. You had done nothing wrong but try to care for him.

You shook your head in desperation to clear the conflicting thoughts. This is the right thing to do, for the both of us. He doesn't care about me as much as I care for him.

Tears began to stream down your face as you threw on the thin jacket. You quickly slipped into a pair of boots and threw the duffel bag over your shoulder.

Kageyama must have heard the commotion, because you ran right into him before you could beeline for the door. "What are you doing?" He asked, though no genuine concern was evident in his expression or tone.

You stepped past him, averting your eyes in hopes that he wouldn't see how glossy they were. "Leaving you alone." You said, trying to keep your voice from faltering.

"I didn't mean it." He stepped fully in front of you to block the exit.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you said it." You retorted, eyeing him down like you had never done before. "You're letting volleyball consume your life to the point where nothing else can compare or satisfy you. I will not let you treat me like shit anymore." The insult slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

Kageyama's gaze fell to the floor.

You nudged past him and opened the front door. The action was heartbreaking, like your whole world was crashing down around you. Your bag suddenly felt hundreds of pounds heavier.

"Don't go." He whispered, finally coming to his senses and realizing that you were entirely serious. Your boyfriend rarely cried, yet in that moment of vulnerability, you thought you saw his eyes gloss over.

But it was too late.

You gave Kageyama one last look before departing and slamming the door in his face, even if every fiber in your being begged you to stay and hold him for the rest of the night.

You were better than this. You deserved someone better. And if Kageyama wasn't going to step into that position, you weren't going to wait around and hope he would change. You had done enough of that, giving him more than enough chances.

"I'm so stupid..." You breathed as tears sprung from your eyes. "Why..." You brought your hand to your mouth and cried softly, yet refused to slow your pace. You were just lucky that your friend Yachi lived a few blocks down, the perks of living on campus.

Meanwhile, Kageyama stared at the spot where you once stood. The apartment was silent, and it seemed you had taken all of its lively energy with you. His mouth felt dry as the reality of his situation finally became clear.

Kageyama sat down on the sofa, swallowing hard as he felt his throat tighten. He was still too shocked that you had actually left. Your absence dissolved his anger, but brought upon anew grief that he couldn't brush away. It was his fault.

He rested his head in his hands, wondering if he had ruined things between the two of you for good. And it was all because he didn't know how to manage his time better.

How stupid.

Kageyama decided to finally listen to your pleas and fall asleep. He curled up in his empty bed and shed a few silent tears. How could he let it come to this? He had neglected you.

Closing his eyes, he knew he had make it up to you tomorrow. He couldn't lose you.

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

Fingers angrily tapping away at your phone screen, you hurried down the vacant university street. It was so early in the morning that not a single soul was out. All you could hear was the sound of your sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

Y/N: are you awake?

Hitoka <3: unfortunately,, whats up?  

Y/N: tobio and i got into a fight and im hoping i can sleepover tn ? :(

Hitoka <3: of course, are you okay? ill be waiting by the front to let you in.

Tears were streaming down your face. At least you had friends by your side that would do anything to relieve the pain of your broken heart.

Why did it have to be like this?

The streetlights were a haze in your vision as you ran until the weight of your bag felt like a hundred pounds.

Why did Kageyama make himself so hard to love?

Just the thought of cutting him completely out of your life was enough to cause your tears to overflow. Your sniffles turned into sobs within seconds, overtaking your senses so quickly that you had to stop running.

Kageyama... Kageyama, why? Why do you have to make me feel like this?

You wanted to scream as loud as you could. There was so much anger building up inside of you and you didn't know how to let it out. You just needed to get away. You needed to breathe. Yet being alone felt odd. Wanting a break from Kageyama was something you had never craved before.

Why do I let him treat me like this?

Why did love have to be so complicated? You wanted to be alone yet you could barely stand the idea of not laying in bed next to him. If only he had decided to go to sleep with you that night. If only he had listened to your advice. If only.

You came to a stop at an intersection, pressing your thumb against the sidewalk signal.

Wiping your tears away, you realized that this entire time you had been trying to change him. For the better, yes indeed. But he wasn't ready for change. He wasn't ready to grow up and cherish the love you were willing to give him.

If he can't take care of himself why do I expect him to take care of me?

And if he wasn't ready, three years was already too long to wait. You always had time, but it was never going to go to waste.

"I'll be okay." You promised to yourself, lip quivering with each prayer that you uttered. No matter what was going to happen, you would get through it. With or without Kageyama by your side. The relationship was in his hands now. One more tear slipped from your eye when you realized you had done all you could.

Your heart seemed to shatter at the revelation. All you could do was sit and wait for him to make up his mind. It felt like you had broken up, but you couldn't help and hold on tightly to that last string of hope.

The walk signal flashed bright in your eyes, and you took a step forward. Yachi's apartment building was just around the corner.

Tears started to brim at your eyelids. Sometimes the truth really was harder to face. It hurt to know your efforts to form an unbreakable bond with him crumbled right in front of you. But you couldn't go on like this any longer. Kageyama did not appreciate you in the way you thought he did.  The promises he whispered in your ear had become devoid of all meaning. They were almost as empty as you.

He let me leave.

In a daze, you crossed into the middle of the street, failing to hear the hum of a car's engine, and failing to notice the high beams that barreled towards you.

Despite his faults, you loved him. You loved him more than anything- yet you had to be strong for yourself. Everything you thought was contradicting.

It was so contradicting, that your mind refused to waver until the last moment when you heard the unbearably loud sound of tires screeching against the road, desperate to avoid colliding head on with your oblivious and fragile frame.

Turning towards the sound, you were immediately swept off your feet and hurdled yards away until you smacked against the concrete pavement.

You didn't even have a moment to scream.

Bells rang in your ears as you forced your eyes open again. Trying to move, you immediately recoiled back into your crumpled frame. Unbearable pain seared up your leg until you gave up on moving.

"Please help!" You attempted to scream, barely able to make sense of the commotion around you. Your head throbbed, causing your vision to unfocus before you could identify your surroundings.

Why can't I move?

"Oh my god!" You heard a scream. A car door slammed shut. "Call an ambulance!"

What you thought was multiple people surrounding you, you heard countless murmuring voices and cars shifting into park. More doors slammed shut. You could hear a frantic voice sobbing to your left, apologizing profusely.

Your eyelids started to feel too heavy to keep open. "I-I..." You croaked, relaxing once you felt someone's hand rest against your shoulder.

"Can you stand?"

It seemed to take all of your remaining energy to reply. Your lungs ached with each breath you took. "No."

They murmured more questions in your ear, but you couldn't make them out. All you could hear was static.

"Please stay awake." The stranger's voice encouraged. "Help is on the way."

Opening your mouth to reply, you felt your entire body slacken against your will.

And then everything faded into nothingness.

Hitoka <3: are you almost here??

[ghost-writer-rights]

Writers block

Warnings: minor drug use (it's just marijuana), shotgunning, Byakuya mention, kinds bad writing towards the end.

"Uuhhhhhh"

Yasuhiro had heard a sound come from the library. He wasn't planning on going to the library but he might as well see what's going on.

When he walked in he could see two figures in there. One was in the corner with only the light from the computer glowing enough to let them see the notepad they also had next to them. Their hair was bunched up in their hands and thr sound had seemed to come from them. They were hunched over looking hopelessly from the computer screen to the notepad.

And the other person was Togami walking out.

"She's been doing that for almost 10 minutes now. It's getting impossible to read" He said as he passed Hiro

"Do you at least now what's wrong, Booyaka?" At the end of his sentence the rich boy stopped immediately in his tracks

"First of all my name is Byakuya Togami and you will refer to me as such. Secondly, I attempted to ask Fukawa what her problem was but she seemed too stressed to know I was even there"

Hiro would've asked a follow up question but Byakuya had already started walking again.

As the taller man started walking farther into the library and towards Toko he could see more of her features.

The way she had let her long eggplant colored hair out of its braids. It was a mess.

He could see the dark circles under her eyes everytime she looked back to the notepad and furiously scribbled something.

He could see the way her leg shakes from beneath her ankle length skirt and how her nails were bit down to the point where they almost bled.

He looked at the screen as she chewed anxiously on her pencil.

As he looked and saw the woman he loves and cherishes more than anything fall back into the arms of the man who doesn't deserve her. He was furious at how she could go back after all that he's done to show her how much she meant to him. In her defense, it wasn't like he ever confessed how he truly he truly felt. As far as she knew she had just gained a friendship that she didn't want to ruin with unsure feelings. She

"Writer's block?" Hiro asked from behind Fukawa

Out of frustration she shoved her head in her hands. Hair resting in between her fingertips.

She didn't hear Yasuhiro. She was too distracted with the absolute garbage in front of her. She knew what was wrong and she knew what she had to write but she just couldn't do it. It was too much and she was so close to her due date she just had to finish this last chapter. She was too stressed to figure out how to end this.

I just need to take a walk and then my brain will be less like the dumpster fire I am. she thought.

As Toko stood and turned to go to the cafeteria she bumped into something.

"w-w-what are you doing here?" Toko said startled "Aren't you too dumb to read o-or whatever"

"Ow, Toukocchi,' Hiro put an over exaggerated hand on his chest in fake hurt, "I'm not that dumb! Your words wound me"

"Well then what are you d-doing here?"

Hiro lifted his hand and put it onto on the fidgety girls head. She flinched a bit.

"You're having writers block?"

"Y-yeah what's it to you?" It was a rhetorical question. She had said it almost in anger

"And you're stressed" Toko hated how soft his voice was all the time. What does he have to be so calm about anyway?

"What are all these useful questions for!"

"I can help you calm down if you need it" Hiro had a way of calming down. It was the one thing people could tell just by looking at him. I mean he looks like the definition of Smoke Weed Everyday. But of course, Fukawa being desperate to finish her work said

"Whatever, buh but make it quick!"

----

So here they were. The fidgety,anxious, eggplant hair girl sitting on a beanbag chair less than 5 feet away from the worlds calmest, coolest and most collected man.

It wasn't awkward. At least not for Hagakure who was rolling up what was about to be Fukawa's "first weed" as she said it.

"first weed" gosh she's adorable.

It was the least strong of what he had. He didn't want to scare her too bad with the effects of it. She did have a novel she had to finish.

"S-so what does it d-d-do exactly?"

Hiro almost didn't understand the question. He forgot how different people react to stuff like this.

"Well, it depends. The most common of things that could happen is that you get the munchies -you know what that is right?- and you laugh a lot. There's more but those are the most common. You should just generally feel lighter. Not like you're constantly holding something crazy heavy and expensive and if you drop it everything is gonna shatter, ya know?"

"y-yeah. Do you feel that way often?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes times worse than others"

"O-oh I'm sorry"

"it's no biggie, Toukocchi, it's not like you did anything to cause it. it's just how life is sometimes" He gave Toko a reassuring smile.

Even in this awkward situation Toko seemed to relax more.

Hiro had lit up the joint and took a inhaled its contents as he put it to his lips.

It wasn't until he passed it to Fukawa that she felt scared to do it. She thought she could but it truly stressed her out more.

"Everything okay?"

"I-I'm.. I'm sorry. I thought this would be easier than it is"

Hiro looked at the joint then to the disappointed look on Toko's face.

"Um, there's uh. There's another way to do this. If you still want to that is. You wouldn't have to do anything really" Hiro felt awkward now. He wanted for Fukawa to feel calmer he did but this seemed to just stress him out.

"There is?" Toko spoke with a slight ounce of optimism in her voice

"Yeah, all that you would have to do is inhale really. You don't even have to hold this" He said taking the roller up paper back and resting it in between his middle and ring finger.

God, he was scared. How could he not be. She doesn't even know what the fucks going on right now.

"I would have to get like, super close to you though"

"How how close?"

"Like.. feel your breath on my face close. Like a kiss almost"

"uh-uh-A WHAT?!"

"It's not a real kiss. here I'll show you"

Hiro once again inhaled but this time held the smoke in his mouth. Then he stood up to get closer to Toko. He was gonna kneel in front of her but Toko stood up too. Okay. He cupped her face in his palm and let his thumb tugging on her chin to indicate that she needed to open he mouth a bit. As Hiro started leaning in Fukawa stood on her tiptoes to meet him half way. He tilted his head a but then their noses touched and could see how Toko closed her eyes. He slowly exhaled the smoke from his mouth into hers.

As he said she should Toko breathed in his smoke.

When he pulled away he couldn't help but laugh.

"W-whats so funny?"

"ha! That-you just look so cute!"

Fukawa face turned as red as Leon's hair. She turned and hid her face in her hand and mumbled something.

"hehe what's that Toukocchi?" He said still laughing

"I was just saying how I-I could put something like this my next book. I-I-I mean the amount of tension that I could create just from a situation like this is phenomenal. There's a sense of romance and pinning that I could just ooze from writing about this"

As Yasuhiro heard the gibberish that spouted from the woman he loves and cherishes more than anything he couldn't help smile. He stepped closer to were Toko had walked off to mumbling in his room and wrapped ome arm around her waist lazily and let the other one rest on her shoulder and he spoke quietly in her ear

"So this is romantic huh? Should we ooze tension out of this too?"

Toko screamed. Hiro laughed and they both finished the joint. It was mostly Hiro but whatever.

----

The next day In the cafeteria Hagekure sat next to Toko at breakfast. It was an omelet day.

"Hey, Toukocchi, did you ever finish your book?"

"y-yeah I did actually. Um, thank you, Yasuhiro" she did a pathetic version of what a smile is. It still warmed His heart.

"Anytime, kid" he said with a wink.

"Maybe next time don't grunt for 10 minutes" a voice spoke as it sat down

"S-Sorry Byakuya!"

"Apology considered, Fukawa"

[jinterlude]

To the One Who Nursed a Broken Heart:

» gif credits: Boy In Luv MV

↳ Pairing(s): Kim Seokjin x Reader (Female OC)

↳ Genre(s): High School!AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before!AU, Romance, Humor, Best Friends Turned Lovers Trope, Angst, & Fluff

↳ Warning(s)/Rating: N/A / PG-13

↳ Words: 3.3K

↳ Summary: 5 letters. That’s all you have ever written throughout your life…well…your life as a high school student. 5 different fellas came into your life and has made a memorable impact in your heart that you honestly needed to unleash those feelings. So, you grab a pen, some paper, and envelopes and simply write. You write how it is because of them that you experience that love comes in different forms. Some noticeable and some you need to take a magnifying glass to. You’re honestly and truly thankful towards them, and the best part is that they will never know about your hidden feelings…right?

«  Last Letter | Next Letter »

You quickly wipe away any remaining tears, letting out a few sniffles. You take a deep breath; your eyes fluttering shut as you do so. Then, slowly, you exhale. You release all the pent-up adoration for Junhong from your body. Why? Well, those feelings are not necessary for the next person. It’d be quite disrespectful if you’ve focused on your love for Junhong while reading the letters about the person who essentially saved you from the darkness.

It is never easy going through any form of heartbreak, but it is especially difficult when it is your first one…

Your eyes are glossy and puffy. Your cheeks are stain with red. You honestly feel that you’ve cried every single tear that’s stored in your body, but your emotions beg to differ. In just a span of one week, you’ve lost the love of your life, flunked your biology test, and apparently your sister from another mister is dating someone that you absolutely loath. Like, you never wish ill of anyone, but you can care less if her boyfriend’s run over by a truck. That’s how much you hate his guts.

And your best friend knows and respects your opinion of him. She just asks that you remain civil whenever he’s around, and she’ll ask him to do the same.

One of the many disadvantages of a close knit of friends. There aren’t many of you guys, so you can’t afford to cause a rift.

Especially now…

Not a day goes by that you don’t think of Junhong and hope that he’s living his best life in the United Kingdom. But you’ll be lying to yourself if you don’t mention the fact that you wish he’s living his best life with you.

What a bittersweet feeling…

Letting out yet another sigh, you glance at your alarm clock.

           “2:36 PM” It reads.

You make a face as you reach out for your phone. Up until now, you’ve been a bit MIA. You’ve ignored every single text message and call from your friends, that it’s honestly concerning.

[25 missed calls – That Handsome Doofus]

[43 missed calls – The Pain in the Ass I “Love”]

[54 text messages – That Handsome Doofus]

The corners of your mouth curve slightly as you can’t help but be amused. You find it a bit theatrical that one of your best guy friends has taken upon himself to bombard your phone.

Seriously…

With the amount of notifications you’ve received from him, it seems like he’s making sure you’re still alive and that this is still your phone number.

Hm. Maybe you should change it just to mess with him.

What a great friend you are.

Unplugging your phone, you sit up from your bed, leaning against the wall. You unlock your phone and tap the message app. Just as you open your chat with that arrogant fall you call a friend, a light knock echoes throughout your bedroom. Then, you hear your mom’s voice say,

           “Sweetie, Seokjin is here to see you.”

You roll your eyes. Of course. He’s always been the irrational one between you two.

           “Alright,” You swing your legs and place your feet on the carpet, “Tell him I’ll be right out.” You say, standing up, unaware of your mom’s sheepish smile.

           “Yeah…about that…” Your mom trails on, opening your bedroom door enough to reveal a rather anxious Seokjin.

You purse your lips, exhaling deeply. Your gaze homing in on Seokjin. This might be a new record for him. He usually gives you about five minutes before invading your bedroom.

Wow. You must’ve worried him like crazy.

You quickly say, “thank you”, to your mom before gesturing to Seokjin that he can come in.

Not wasting another moment, Seokjin rushes inside, shedding his jacket and carelessly tossing it to your lounge chair.

           “What the Hell, Y/N?”

You roll your eyes, waving away his question.

           “Well. It’s nice to see you Jinnie. What brings you over to my humble abode?”

           “Oh…I don’t know…maybe it’s because you worried all of US to death!”

Your body flinches at his harsh tone. Okay. You deserve that.

           “I’m sorry, Jinnie, but I just needed some alone time.” You sigh, taking a seat on the foot of you bed. You then pat the spot next to you, signaling Seokjin to come sit next to you. Naturally, he does with no hesitation whatsoever. That’s one of his qualities that makes you cherish your friendship with him. He does almost everything that you ask. With certain things, like going on a date with a friendly acquittance, he needs a huge amount of convincing. Sometimes you’re successful. Other times, you owe him a lunch date or two.

You’re honestly quite thankful for him. He’s the strength during your dark times.

Not even Junhong can hold that special title. And that’s why you feel a bit of guilt being alone with Seokjin in your room.

Junhong has told you to move on when the time is right, but how can you? More importantly, who will help you move on? Last time you checked, your candidates are pretty slim.

Oh…but…how blind you are…

Releasing another heavy sigh, hoping to break the awkward silence, you shyly glance at Seokjin. You observe his body language, noting how relax he seems. His brows are knit together; tiny creases ever so visible on his forehead. The corners of his lips are curved upwards. This pinkish hue looks natural on his cheeks. And…has his Adam’s apple always looked profound?

Nope…

No…

You can’t…

You just broke up with Junhong…

You don’t want to betray him by admiring your best friend.

You will never betray Junhong.

Never.

On the other hand, with Seokjin, he enjoys the fact that you’re checking him out. He’s handsome, so why not? But, at the same time, he can’t help but feel like an asshole for being incredibly happy that you’re single again. When he has learned that you’re dating Hoseok’s friend, he has become sad because he wanted that opportunity to date you. He has wanted that chance to explore his blossoming infatuation with you but obviously, that never happened.

So…naturally…like any other guy friend will do…

He buries them deep down in the darkest depths of his heart and learn to be happy with just being your friend.

As long you’re happy, then he’s happy.

He has helped you with every fight and worry that you’ve experienced with Junhong. When you’ve released countless of tears, he’s there to wipe them away and soothe your thoughts. He has become the calm that every storm needs.

That’s Kim Seokjin.

But now? He wants to explore something more. He needs to take this chance, especially with his Senior year approaching.

He doesn’t live with regrets.

Mustering the much needed courage, Seokjin takes one final deep breath and exhales.

Then, he turns his attention towards, smiling softly as he sees you mess with the hem of your t-shirt.

           “Y/N?” He finally speaks, sweeping his tongue across his bottom lip, moistening it.

You hum in response. Your eyes trailing from your “interesting” shirt to Seokjin’s gorgeous face. Come again?

           “Would you slap me if I were to ask you out on a date?”

           “Like…a friendly date…?”

           “No. Like an actual romantic date where I might be courageous enough to kiss you on the cheek.”

Your eyes widen. Your jaw practically drops to the floor. That’s something you aren’t expecting to come from his mouth.

But again…you know he’s known for his unpredictability. So…

           “Uh…” You begin but soon feel his finger on your lips.

Seokjin flashes his signature, heart-fluttering smile, and says,

           “You don’t have to answer me right now. I know you’re going through a heartbreak and will give you time to readjust to the single life,” He suddenly stands up, “I just want to ask before I forget or become a complete coward.” He smiles softly; his gaze glowing with adoration. He then walks over to your bedroom door and opens it. He peeks over his shoulder with this grin that causes your heart to race.

           “I’ll see you at school, princess.” He says sweetly before walking out of your room and pass your mom, “See you later, Mrs. L/N.”

Your mom nods, watching him disappear down the stairs, before walking inside your room with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

          ��“Ooh…so are you gonna go on that date?” asks your mom with an intrigued gleam in her eyes.

Oh my goodness…

           “I don’t know mom. He’s just a friend.”

           “Well, it seems like he’s doesn’t want to be “just” your friend, sweetie.”

           “Which is weird since he’s never expressed interest in me before.”

Your mom’s grin grows wider, “Or… He just respected your relationship with Junhong patiently waited for his one chance.” She states as she walks towards your bedroom door, “Think about it and maybe give him a chance. Who knows…maybe he’s just what you need to be able to love again?” She adds before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Is he what you need?

Ah…

Thanks a lot mom…

A loud, frustrated fueled groan escapes your lips as you flop back on your bed. You reach for one of your pillows and cover your face with it, hoping to smother yourself.

Your mom just had to say that…

But, she’s right. Seokjin’s just what you needed in order to get out of your slump. A few weeks after that visit, he’s taken you out on that date. Oh, God. You remember how big of a nervous wreck you were in the afternoon. Your closet has been emptied out as your clothes laid on the floor. Your vanity mirror has looked like a tornado zoomed right through it. You even called up two of your closest friends. Your sisters from different misters as you call them. That’s how desperate you’ve become, so you can look quite gorgeous for your handsome best friend.

Though, now as you recall that night, you realize that those theatrics weren’t necessary. You honestly tease yourself as you continue to read the letter addressed to Seokjin. You write how much he frustrates you to how he makes you crazy in love. You can’t believe that this journey has been one giant crazy ride.

Then…

Just like any other ride…

It has come to an end…

You let out a long and deep sigh, mentally preparing yourself to handle yet another heartbreaking moment. Though, nothing will beat the pain and tears you’ve felt when you’ve written Junhong’s letter. Well. Actually. Scratch that. There’s one letter that is almost on par with your first love’s letter but luckily, Seokjin’s letter isn’t it.

When you move on to read his letter, you’ll need to take a breather because, besides experiencing a heartbreak, nothing beats the good old “what could’ve been?” feeling. That feeling of that you’re an almost with someone but eventually have become strangers.

That feeling stings the most…

           “Okay. Okay.” You utter as you scan Seokjin’s letter, finding the spot where you’ve left off. Your eyes scan sentence after sentence, taking in the array of emotions once again.

Then, you finally land on a word, signaling your mind that you’ve reached your destination.

A faint sigh escapes your lips. Your eyes blink a few times, hoping that action will prevent any tears from forming. You don’t feel like crying more than fives times today.

But, of course, your emotions have a mind of their own. They sometimes listen to you but other times, they don’t.

It’s fun being a girl!

With one final deep breath, you read the beginning paragraph, reading a few sentences to yourself.

           “I can’t believe that we completed yet another school year together! I remember my mom wanting to throw a graduation party for you, but you turned it down. Weeks have gone by, and I have yet to hear a peep from you. Maybe it’s my turn to spam your phone…”

You stop as you feel tears pool in the brim of your eyes. Yet you can’t help but smile. You have always known that Seokjin is going to go on to do great things with his life.

So…

Naturally…

You hold true to that saying.

If you love something, then let it go. One day, it’ll come back to you…

Panting, you exert any remaining adrenaline, that surges through your body, as you hope to catch Seokjin before he officially leaves for college.

Weeks prior, you have left him text message after text message, but they went unanswered. Then, when it’s his turn to reach out to you, your family has decided to take a week trip to your grandparents’ house.

Talk about bad luck.

Now, just as you got home, you receive a voice mail from Seokjin, saying that today is his last day in town before he officially goes away to college.

So many questions and scenarios bombard your mind. Do you want to try long distance with him? Will he forget all about you once his college life picks up? Will you end up heart broken by the man who’s spent almost a year nursing it?

It’s selfish to want him to change his mind, but you know that, in good conscience, you can’t do that to him. He has been nothing but sweet and loving to you so, as much as your heart will hurt, you have to let him go.

Just like Junhong has done with you…

After what seems like an eternity, you finally turn the corner and see a familiar backside leaning forward over a car. You see that the trunk is open, so you know that you at least have a few minutes to say your piece and kiss Seokjin one last time.

           “Jinnie!” You shout, jogging up to him.

Seokjin’s ears perk up; his mind registering the voice of the one person he cherishes with his entire heart. A faint but sad smile appears on his face as he positions a box against the trunk of his car.

Then, he stands up and turns around. His face light up like a kid in a candy store. He holds out his arms, waiting for you to come crashing in.

           “Hey princess.” He greets happily, engulfing your body into his. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, ignoring the warm sensation. Don’t you love dark colored hair on a hot Summer’s day?

He pecks your temple before breaking the hug but keeps his arms wrap around your waist.

           “I was scared that you weren’t going to make it.” He confesses sadly; his expression dropping a bit.

You plaster on a smile, not wanting to make him any sadder than he already is.

           “I’m sorry. I just got home from my grandparents’ house when you left me that voice mail,” You glance up, “If anyone should be scared, it should be me. I was legit afraid that you’d be long gone by the time I had got home.” You say. Your expression dropping as well.

An airy chuckle escapes his lips as Seokjin pulls you in for another hug.

           “Well, I’m glad that you’re here now. I’d think I would be absolutely crush, if I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to my princess.” He mumbles into your hair. He inhales in your sweet scent, wanting to memorize your aroma while he’s away at college.

You smile into his chest while your heart tightens. This is going to be extremely difficult but at the end of the day, you’re doing what’s best for him.

He needs to leave with nothing to hold him back.

You don’t want to hold him back.

So…

It’s time…

You pull away just enough to get one final look at his handsome face. You eyes study every single facial feature, wanting to remember his beautiful eyes, gorgeous plump limps, and cute nose. How his ears turn bright red whenever he’s embarrassed. How his eyes become animated whenever he passionately talks about an interest of his.

You remember him as the way he is now and not when he’s upset and reluctant to leave you.

           “Can we talk?”

           “Oh…that’s not a phrase any boyfriend wants to hear.”

           “I know... but you and I both know that we have to end things between us.”

           “No we don’t.”

You exhale deeply, closing your eyes briefly before opening them.

           “Seokjin, you know I love you to the sun and back, but you’re going away to college today. I just don’t want to hold you back.” You try to convince him, but you notice his jaw tighten.

He’s upset.

           “How are you going to hold me back? If anything, you’re my reason for wanting to do my absolute best!”

           “How?! Knowing you, all you’re going to do is worry about me or perhaps become jealous over the fact that you’re no longer to keep the other boys away!”

           “And?! What’s so bad about that?! Honestly Y/N, you should be worried if I no longer care!”

Jesus Christ. This is getting you nowhere. This petty argument is the last thing you want your relationship experience to be. Ideally, you’ve wanted to end it amicably. Obviously, that’s not happening.

But you don’t condemn him for it. Your heart soars knowing that he wants to make your relationship work, but you know that – eventually – it will sizzle out. And you don’t want to lose your best friend.

           “Why are we fighting, Seokjin? This is not how I wanted us to end things.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, scoffing. He crosses his arms over his chest as he’s released you from his loving hold minutes ago. He stares off into the distance. His jaw still clenches.

He doesn’t want to lash out on you again as he has come to realize that you’re right. His jealousy can get pretty bad to the point that it’ll consume his thoughts.

Don’t get him wrong. He does have absolute trust in you, but he’ll miss you too much that it only fuel his jealous fits.

You don’t deserve it, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He hates it when you’re right. Since the first day, you guys have become friends. You’re always right whether he likes it or not.

Darn it…

His expression softens. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. A slow release of breath can be heard as he directs his attention onto you.

You simply stare, unsure what’s he going to do next. Then, you feel his soft fingers against your cheek. You lean into his warm touch; your eyes glowing with nothing but love.

           “Why do you always have to be right, princess?”

           “Because you adopted the whole “being wrong most of the time” so naturally, I became the one who’s always right.”

           “For the last time…you’re right.”

           “Aren’t I always…”

Your fingers touch your lips as you can faintly feel the tingling sensation as if he just kissed you. Slowly, a warm smile graces your face as you’ve reached the end of the letter.

After you guys have shared one last kiss, he entered his vehicle and drove away. Unknown to you, Seokjin glanced in his rearview mirror, wanting to take one final glimpse at the girl he’s leaving behind.

You remember standing near his house until his car’s no longer in sight. You recall feeling pleased with yourself that you at least manage to say goodbye and end something on happy note.

Until last year, Seokjin has kept his word of texting and calling you, just as friends of course, every single day. Then, like any other student, he has gotten busy and the calls just stopped.

However, you’re luckily enough that you’ve gotten some advice on how to handle the next letter recipient.

Your bottom lip disappears as you seal away Seokjin’s letter and place the envelope on top of Junhong’s.

Then, after debating for about ten seconds, you reach a light sea green colored envelope. You let out a long and loud sigh as you read the code name for its’ recipient.

           “To the One Who’s a Complete Stranger…”

This should be fun…

A/N: Okay, I find it amusing that Seokjin’s section is 300+ words longer. I’m so sorry Junhong ;-; But every time I write for Jinnie, his angst scenes require a longer scene. Poor him tbh...

Anyway...any guesses on who’s the next person? ;)

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/send in an ask on your thoughts! I love hearing them! :)

- Kim

[emmaswanchoosesyou]

CSBB: Part of the Narrative (8/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Story warnings: sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, violence, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: Profanity, discussions of past relationships and canon pregnancy-related issues, and some snogging.

I hope you all know that your comments and likes and kudos and reblogs have been cherished and squealed over. Thank you to all the wonderful peeps at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first and sixth chapters, which you can check out here and here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Chapter 8

Emma comes clean to Killian about her past, and they bond during their second date.

Killian

Killian stared through the small window at the front of his oven, hoping the conversion to Fahrenheit hadn’t utterly destroyed his mother’s recipe for Lancashire hotpot. He stepped back and glanced out the window above the sink. Even through the dark, the grey of the clouds promised snow, and it was already colder than he’d like. So this would be perfect, provided it cooked properly.

In the meantime, this cooking adventure was distracting him from his nerves about the night’s plans with Emma. He knew they needed to talk--they truly did--but just the thought of seeing her filled his stomach with butterflies, in the best way. In a manly way, as he’d told Robin.

Aye, manly butterflies.

It had only been a few days since he had seen her, but he missed her. They had texted over the last few days, which had been pleasant--excellent, in fact--but it wasn’t the same as being in the same room as her, holding her in his arms or seeing the light in her eyes while she talked about the things she was passionate about.

He was just so…excited to see her again, to have dinner with her, to talk, to… snuggle. Or, perhaps more than snuggle. Either way, it would be good.

Obviously, they had a fairly heavy conversation ahead of them, but he was optimistic. In the days since their date, he hadn't heard from August. Nothing. Not a word. And, frankly, Killian was relieved. He was in no rush to hear from his current boss and former conspirator. He had actually emailed him the other day with an update from the next chapter Emma was working on. It was the exact sort of thing he should be talking to August about. The exact thing a publisher needed to hear in the earlier stages of developing a novel, and not what he had asked Killian to do.

And what a chapter it was! The story was starting to unfold, and Killian was hooked. They had finally met the protagonists, a social worker and the child she was trying to help get out of the foster care system.

He couldn't help but see the parallels to Emma's own life, and to Henry. And he was thrilled. Not only was Emma clearly drawing from her own experiences, but she was painting them vividly. It left Killian feeling he knew her a little better for it and knew it would draw others into the story.

A knock at the door interrupted Killian's musings, and he gave a sigh of relief. Not that he wasn't enjoying contemplating Emma and her story, but maybe the butterflies could actually settle down now that she was here.

"Just a minute," he called out, pulling the dish out of the oven. He straightened his vest over his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and went to the door.

He opened it to find Emma's beautiful face, her small, crooked smile betraying how glad she was to see him too. She was carrying a bottle of wine and shifting her weight as she stood up on the tips of her toes, her nervous energy soothing him and putting him at ease even as his heart skipped a beat. At least he wasn't alone in this.

"Good evening, Swan. You look delightful," he said, brushing a quick kiss across her cheek and taking the wine from her.

Emma blushed, but eyed him hungrily. "You look good too." Then, her eyes drifted away from him as she sniffed at the air. "Okay, that smells fantastic."

He held the door open and motioned for her to come through. "Well, then come in and let's get us fed."

He watched her as she moved past him, her cream-colored sweater and figure-hugging pants making her look delectable. The style made her seem soft, approachable, while also unaccountably badass when coupled with her knee-high boots, and he couldn't wait to continue what they had started on Friday.

Killian shook his head and idly thumbed at his mouth, hoping he hadn't been drooling. He let his prosthetic hand drop to the small of her back, guiding her into his flat. "Would you like the tour, or would you like to eat first?"

She turned and offered him a smile. "Tell me what that delicious smell is, and then I want a tour. I know your tour of my place was interrupted, but I'm curious."

He smirked at her as she peered over his shoulder back into the kitchen. "Then all in good time, love. Our dinner will be a Lancashire hotpot. My mother's recipe."

Emma softened. "That's great--what's in it?" Stepping back and turning to stand beside him, she kept her eyes on him.

"Traditionally, it's made with lamb and local vegetables, but I used beef, as lamb… well, it takes a fair hand to cook, and I’ve only got the one. I also didn't imagine slaving in the kitchen for hours would fall under the terms of 'casual' we agreed upon for tonight."

"Well, regardless, I can't wait to try it. Now show me your lair," she said, grinning at him.

He raised an eyebrow and set the wine down on the counter. "Lair? Do you see me as the sort that would have lair?"

She waved his question aside airily. "Lair, berth, dwelling...whatever."

"For starters, my 'lair' has this kitchen, and a cozy living room," Killian said, gesturing to the room in question.

Emma smiled, eyeing his well-worn and well-loved chair, the one he had brought across the ocean in spite of--no, because of--its odd appearance.

"At some point I'll tell you about my chair, that is if you tell me about yours," she said, turning away from the chair to face him.

"Deal."

"Shall we continue?" she asked, starting down the short hallway.

"Aye, we shall. As you can see, this is the hallway, and the bathroom. And through here is my bedroom."

She followed him into the room in question, running her eyes over the grey and navy striped coverlet, the sea chest in the corner, and the anchor and ship painting on the wall, the room’s feel neat and organized. Emma looked around almost wistfully. "It's very… nautical. And grown-up."

"What were you expecting? A single bed with posters from popular films?"  His gentle tone belied the biting words a little.

"No, I just… well, my place stays fairly orderly too, but that's because I don't keep much there. And I totally drop my clothes on the floor."

Killian laughed. "Normally that might be the case here, but there's this lovely writer who promised to come over for dinner, so I may have put things in order."

She smirked at him. "Hmm, feeling hopeful, were you?"

"Always," he said seriously, meeting her eyes.

She didn't look away.

&&&

After they finished their meal, Killian poured them each another glass of the wine Emma had brought.

She smiled up at him and took a slow sip. "That was delicious. Your mom's recipe totally holds up."

"Doesn't it? I'm glad it worked out over here, even with the adjustments to American ovens and measuring systems," he said happily.

"Maybe sometime you'll show me how to make it?"

He paused, seeing the hopeful look on her face. His heart beat faster, the idea of working side-by-side with Emma in his small kitchen--in either of their kitchens, really--the very opposite of vexing. "Certainly, if that's something you wish to do."

"I...I really do," she said, reaching across the table and taking his prosthetic in her hand. He patted her hand with his and let her continue. "I...so, yeah, I really enjoy spending time with you. I also realized that I want to get to know my son, and it seems like a lot all at once."

"I would hope you wouldn't consider me a burden, love," he said, trying to keep his features schooled, not wanting to place any sort of expectations on her even as he felt a twinge of disappointment.

She looked surprised for a moment, then rushed to reassure him. "No--Killian, not at all. But I think there are things you should know before we make any decisions." Her brow was furrowed in concern.

“I’d be happy to listen to whatever you want to tell me.”

“I know you were upset that I hadn’t told you. I could tell the other night, and I--just, well--I don’t owe you my story just because you told me yours,” Emma said, her voice low and intense.

Ouch. He knew her words were harsh, but also fair. He considered his own before nodding, acknowledging his silent display of frustration from the other night. He lifted his hands at her in supplication. “You’re right. You don’t owe me anything, but know that I would like to get to know you, and your story. So when you are ready to share, know that I’m all ears.”

She smiled at him, accepting his unspoken apology. “I was sixteen. I’d been in the foster care system my entire life, and I’d just run away from my last home. The Dixons...well, Mr. Dixon was interested in me in ways he shouldn’t have been, and Mrs. Dixon didn’t believe me. So I ran.”

“Christ, Emma, that’s awful,” he said, reaching for her hand again.

She didn’t pull away, instead she threaded her fingers through his and took a deep breath before continuing. “I went to Portland. The one in Oregon, that is. It seemed as far away as I could get. And, well, I was a sixteen-year-old with no skills, so I stole. Usually just small stuff, but I won’t lie, I was stealing more and bigger things as time went on.”

Killian rubbed his thumb over her wrist and nodded at her, encouraging her to go on.

“So I saw a car. A yellow VW Bug...”

“The one you have now? You still have a car that you stole?!” His voice was incredulous but tinged with amusement, and his eyebrows skyrocketed up toward his hairline.

“I’ll get to that, Jones, but yes,” she said, the exasperation in her tone lightened by the smile she gave him. “Anyway, the car was old enough that I knew it wouldn’t have anything too fancy to deal with in terms of alarms or locking mechanisms. So I got in and got the car going.”

“Next time I need to hotwire a car, I know who to turn to,” he teased.

Emma smacked his hand in mock reproof. “Nope, you’d pick something new and shiny. It’d be awful, and we’d so get caught.”

“I’ll have you know that I was a very good thief as a twelve-year-old,” he said, smirking at her.

She shook her head in response before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Well, I got in the car, and then I got the shock of my life when some guy popped up from the backseat.”

“Ah,” he said, the pieces coming together for him, “Henry’s father?”

“Yeah. His name was Neal, and as it turned out he had just stolen the car.” A melancholy look crossed her face, but she pushed it away. “He was older and had that irresponsible, easygoing vibe that screamed bad boy. So, naturally, my sixteen-year-old self fell for him immediately.”

He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“We decided to team up. There were a lot of cons that were easier with the two of us, and we made our way from Portland to Arizona. We were together by then, and I was crazy about him. He said he was crazy about me. We had even started talking about going straight together, doing the right thing somewhere with a nice view of the beach. We were thinking Florida,” she said, her lips turning downward with a wry twist at her youthful naivete. “We settled on Tallahassee, not realizing it doesn’t have access to the beach.”

“What went wrong, love?”

“Neal had some watches he’d lifted a while ago stored in a locker in Phoenix. We were going to grab them, sell them and use the money to start our new life. But when we got there we found a bunch of wanted posters with Neal’s face on them. So I volunteered to go get them.” She paused and he squeezed her hand. “We were going to meet up afterward and head out of town.”

Killian winced, imagining all the ways that could have backfired. He wondered which way it had.

Emma didn’t let him stew in his curiosity for long. “I picked them up without a problem and went to meet Neal. Only he didn’t show, a cop did. Said they’d gotten an ‘anonymous tip’ someone would be making a grab and running with them.”

“Bloody hell, an ‘anonymous tip’? He--” Killian cut himself off, heat blooming in his cheeks as fury bubbled in his chest at the man who had so betrayed Emma. He was so appalled that he pulled back, disentangling their hands.

“Yeah. I think even the judge felt bad for me. My sentence wasn’t as heavy as it could have been, and they made sure I got resources so that I wouldn’t turn back to theft when I got out,” she said, fiddling with her napkin and not meeting his eyes.

He reached for her again and squeezed her hand, overwhelmed at what she had gone through.

She looked up at him, smiling sadly, a bitter twist to her mouth. “Two months into my year-long sentence I found out I was pregnant. I had just barely turned seventeen, I was in jail, and I--well, I couldn’t even fathom being a mother. Even if it meant I had to do the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do to my own child, I knew he deserved better.”

“And so did you,” he whispered, his heart breaking for her.

“Does that make me selfish? It’s just that what was best for him was also best for me, or so I thought at the time.”

“Of course not. Or rather, if it is...it’s the most understandable thing I can think of in your situation.” He lifted her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles, then furrowed his brow. “Did Henry say something?”

“He wondered about why I had given him up. I told him the truth, and that I don’t exactly regret it. But I also told him that I do want to know him.”

Killian smiled at her. “And hopefully he wants to know you. If not, he’s missing out.”

She blushed but returned his smile. “Thanks. We talked last night on the phone, and we had a good chat on the way to Portland. I think… I think it’s going to work out.”

He desperately wanted to pull her into his embrace. “Thank you, Emma, for telling me about your past.”

She looked at him, something shy and earnest in her gaze. “Thanks for listening. I don’t generally talk about this stuff with, well, anyone.”

“I’m honored to have your trust,” he said honestly, even as the guilt of his work with August knifing through him even as he smiled. It was an honor, even if it was one he didn’t deserve, but he would endeavor to be worthy of it.

She didn’t seem to notice anything was off, and Killian let out a silent breath of relief. She didn’t ever have to know about his past behavior, especially since it was no longer an issue. Killian leaned back in his chair, shifting his hand to lift hers, thumbing at the top of her knuckles as he did. “Well, love, would you like me to pour us another glass of wine? We could do that and watch something, if you’d like,” he said.

Emma slumped her shoulders in relief, clearly relieved to have the more serious portion of their conversation over with too. “That sounds great.”

They settled onto the couch, Emma sitting comfortably beside him, his arm draped over her shoulder, as they watched Parks and Recreation. He wasn’t entirely sold on the American comedy, but Emma assured him it would change his life. He was willing to give it a shot, especially with such a glowing recommendation, and if it meant it was something they’d have an excuse to continue to do together outside of the office.

Honestly, though, he stopped paying attention to the show about the same time Emma’s hand started caressing his thigh. He tightened his hold on her, the chamomile and sunshine scent of her hair bewitching his senses.

She turned to look up at him, and he wasted no time capturing her lips with his. His tongue traced along them, begging entry that she granted. Their embrace grew more passionate as she turned to face him, her legs straddling his. She pressed against him, her fingers cupping his jaw as his hands slipped under her sweater. He lightly traced nonsensical patterns up her back with his hand and his prosthetic, letting them slide against the softness of her skin and moaning against her mouth as he did.

Killian’s moan seemed to startle Emma, and she pulled back. He was gratified, though, to see she seemed to have trouble catching her breath. As she paused but didn’t pull back further, he pressed open-mouthed kisses down her throat to her collarbone.

She arched into him again and sighed before finally pulling away. “Hey, Killian--can we--can we stop for a moment?”

He closed his eyes but nodded, acquiescing. Lowering his hands and removing them from under her top, he looked up at her above him, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked like a goddess of sunshine, he thought, his brain still somewhat fogged, not receiving all the blood flow it normally would.

“Sorry, I just… well, a lot is going on right now, and I want to see where this goes. But I also want to slow down a little,” she said apologetically, her cheeks red--with either embarrassment or arousal. Possibly both.

He smiled, and pressed a chaste kiss to her nose. “You have nothing to apologize for, Emma. We can take this as slowly--or as fast--as you’d like. Whenever you like.”

“I just… well, you’re my editor.” She gave a small shrug and looked away a moment before returning to look directly down at him. “I want this to work, I really do. But if it doesn’t, we still have to work together.”

“I understand. Truly, lass,” he said, beseeching any god who might listen to please help it work out. He reached out and touched her chin, kissing her again, trying to keep it from becoming too desperate a thing.

[worstmorty-blog]

( me: i should initiate more contact on this blog   also me: (just keeps rping as my morty on skype with my qpp)

[Under normal circumstances, Rick would consider his brilliant escape from the most rigorous and secure intergalactic prison to be a matter of celebration; perhaps he’d again claim himself to be a God, or the closest thing to a “God” there possibly could be in reality, bearing a mind rivaled by none and abilities to “control” the universe as he pleased. A takedown of the Galactic Federation was incredulously simple, and although the grandfather ought to be rejoicing, he felt an abnormal, metaphorical weight on himself. He was freed, but that freedom didn’t allow him an ounce of joy. Though Rick evidently wasn’t the type to “reflect” on his actions, the isolation and confinement of his few months spent in prison only allowed him the pastime of thought.]

[He’d never admit it, of course, but Jerry’s words were striking – insisting that Rick was a chaotic force in his family’s lives, that he was merely worsening their situation by sticking around. They wouldn’t have a damn thing to concern themselves over now, thanks to the intergalactic method of law enforcement collapsing by his own hand, but that didn’t mean that his return would be “for the best.” He’d ruined the lives of those he’d cared about (though, he could scarcely admit to himself that he truly cared in the first place), and allowing himself any presence in their lives – even if he truly sought to stand by them – might only impair them. In usual fashion, Rick decided it would be for the best to isolate himself, akin to when he’d abandoned his own daughter for twenty years, and entirely for the same reason.]

[In that state of mind, Rick wondered whether eluding and dismantling the governmental stronghold was as clever of a solution as he’d believed; not only might he have caused his family grief (they could’ve ransacked his laboratory in the garage by now, perhaps even forced them to relocate in the process), but he was now so reluctant to rejoin his family that he might as well have stayed. Part of him wondered if he ought to have played coy during his “interrogation,” and allowed them to erase his mind so they could rid the world of him and his vast knowledge. The entire universe would be better without him, as far as he was concerned. Suicide had crossed his mind rather often in the time he’d spent whilst freed; death was preferable to living with the guilt of his inability to save his best friend, of harming his family to an almost abusive degree, of abandoning them all again and leaving them to likely suffer from the same abandonment issues that Beth had.]

[Why had he escaped in the first place? Perhaps it was spite – a vengeful desire to eradicate the Galactic Federation after murdering his closest friend – or perhaps he somehow felt the need to atone, to fix what he’d irreparably broken. Yet, now that he was roaming the universe, the question struck him – what could he fix? Revealing himself to his family would merely do more damage in the long run, especially if he found it inevitable to leave them again, and a simple dimension swap wouldn’t resolve the innumerable issues he’d encountered with his family. Morty would likely prefer his absence to his presence, anyway, and though other Ricks would easily find themselves capable of leaving their immediate family behind, this version of himself couldn’t. He was feeble, frail compared to the others, allowing emotions and care to dominate him; that would be his downfall.]

[Over a year had passed by the time he eventually decided to show his face…or, at the very least, revisit the Smith home, given that he was uncertain whether his family even inhabited it anymore. A dismal sense of defeat dwelled within him as he explored the home, finding it entirely deserted; perhaps it was inevitable to discover that they were missing, that they wanted nothing to do with the grandfather anymore (as evidenced by the various photos of him still scattered throughout the house, most of which displayed empty space where his face formerly lingered). That defeat gradually shifted into a hollow feeling that spread outward from his chest, his heart sinking as any hope of reconciling with his family diminished. Instinctively, he made his way to the final “room” of the house, one with the least likelihood of containing any family of his.]

[Shakily, the grandfather opened the door; the garage wasn’t emptied, but it had been organized, various gadgets of his boxed up as though the family planned to move it with them, or perhaps store it somewhere, only to give up halfway. However, his eyes weren’t drawn to them – instead, his gaze met an eyepatched Morty, lingering in the former laboratory, one he unfortunately recognized thanks to his necessary investigation into an “evil Rick.” He froze momentarily, but not out of trepidation; an unbridled rage brewed within him, influenced by his hopelessness and the possibilities that now raced through his mind once he considered what this Morty might have been up to. His presence couldn’t be mere coincidence. The family’s evacuation from the home, the distorted photographs, the fact that he was ransacking the grandfather’s garage. A worst-case scenario of an assumption presented itself in his mind, one he was incapable of refuting – this Morty had raided his family’s home, and…and…]

[Perhaps even murdered them. The ones he held so dear, obliviated thanks to a selfish, bastardized version of the grandson he’d fucking cherished. His DAUGHTER. His GRANDCHILDREN – his GRANDSON. They…could be DEAD. It might be too fucking late for him to repair any damage he’d done, and his late appearance had likely caused it. One of his hands balled itself into a tightened fist, nails digging viciously into his palm, his grip so intense that it whitened his knuckles; the other hand reached into his coat’s pocket, swiping a laser pistol from within, and hurriedly positioned it in a direct aim at the Morty’s head. The only possibility could be that this motherfucker had murdered his family in cold blood – yet, he hesitated to shoot, even in his infuriated condition. This was a…Morty, a horrific and vicious version of him, but a Morty nonetheless. His likeness to his own grandson was likely what held him back – and he despised himself for his fucking weakness. A guttural growl resounded from him, rather than the fury-induced scream he’d fought to conceal, as he questioned the malevolent bastard.]

What the hell did you DO to them? You – You…you MONSTER! I-I’ll – I… [“I’ll kill you” was his implication – and he had every intent to do so, but his damned feelings prevented him from even voicing the thought.]

How long had it been since Morty had been ‘home’? If he were any other version of himself, the answer would likely be ‘too long’. After all, surely Morty missed his family. Surely he missed the familiarity of the dimension he’d so ruthlessly claimed as his own alongside his merciless grandfather and, of course, the family home. Didn’t he miss the house he’d grown up in? Where he’d learned his first words- lost his first tooth? Where his life had changed forever the second a man from the stars had come crashing on their doorstep, offering Morty things he could only ever dream of?

Yeah right. What a fucking J O K E.

This whole dimension had gone to shit, but this house might be the worst place of them all. In fact, if all went according to plan, this would be the last time Morty would have to set foot in any version this hellhole. And it was a hellhole. It’d always been, of course, but it had only gotten worse over the course of the last year or so. Looking back on it, watching how QUICKLY it had deteriorated without Rick- without a man they’d all been FINE without a few years previously- it was almost funny. They had all been so dependent. And for what? For a man who would abandon them in an instant, should it suit him. For a man who DID abandon them.

And he had abandoned them.

Morty hadn’t always thought so, of course. The second he was informed that his grandfather- no, the man didn’t deserve to be called that anymore. The second Morty had been informed that the high and mighty Rick Sanchez of Earth Dimension C-137 was in the custody of the galactic federation, he’d felt bad for resenting him for what he’d done. He’d turned himself in, after all! All to save the family! Oh, how heroic. And how quickly Morty was to change his mind about that.

He didn’t care about the family’s well being at all. No, he was just a COWARD. It was just easier to turn himself in than to deal with providing for his family- than to deal with the people he’d twisted into small, pathetic co-dependent beings only to get BORED of them the second things took a wrong turn.

No. Rick Sanchez was no hero. Then again, neither was Morty.

In a way, maybe Morty out to be grateful towards the man. After all, it was his abandonment that had allowed the boy to develop into the person he was now. It was all thanks to Rick that he was finally FLOURISHING. But no. Not an inkling of thankfulness was extended towards that bastard. What had once been a childish admiration had long since rotted into a desolate hatred, and once he was done here, he’d never have to think about that bastard ever again.

It was no surprise to find the family home abandoned- RAVAGED. What the federation hadn’t ruined, that miserable family of his had. It was almost poetic, in a way. They had strived so long and hard trying to convince themselves that they were okay without Rick, while Morty was the only one who actively tried to get him back, and the more he tried, the less his family seemed to care. Yet, the second Morty realised his potential- the second he realised that Rick was naught but a relentless famine that had weighed down on their shoulders? That’s when they mourned. And what fools they were for doing so.

A few small “tsk” noises were released as he walked through the remains of the house, laughing at the memorabilia that he’d- that they’d ALL- previously cherished. But that’s not what he was here for. Mementos could rot for all he cared. He was here for something much more valuable. He made his way into the garage, a satisfying “ah” sound escaping his lips. It was pathetic how much the federation had left behind. Of course, that just meant more for him. Not that he particularly cared about Rick’s things.

No, if he were to have any joy with them, it would be in disassembling them- in prying the things the man had worked so long on apart as if they were scrap metal. And to Morty, that’s truly all they were. Parts. Pieces. Nothing here was worth anything. Morty could make things far more brilliant- and had. He wondered, for a moment, how many years it had taken Rick to develop his first portal gun? Even without a reference to work with, Morty had recreated that technology in mere months.

A small “hmm?” was released from his lips, malicious grin spreading across his lips as the door was opened; rather TIMIDLY. Well this was bound to be fun. Who was it? A federation member? One of his kin? Oh, how he’d love to see the terrified face of his father one more time before ENDING the pitiful fool’s life.

His grin dropped only slightly when he recognized the man as a Rick, quickly losing any excitement or thrill he’d found only moments before. Ugh. How TEDIOUS. He’d never killed a Rick before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there? And he would kill him if it came to that. No one but Morty was getting these leftovers. He deserved them. He’d suffered for them.

A flinch wasn’t given as the gun was held to his head, a single hand coming up in false surrender as another reached for a weapon of his own, hinting to the other that he was in possession of one as he waved it almost playfully behind his back, but not revealing it just yet.

“Oh, what was that? You’ll what? P L E A S E, Rick, speak up, won’t you?” He gave a rather dramatic roll of his eyes, smile widening into one a bit more malice. Maybe this would be fun. He didn’t know which dimension this asshole was from, but he was clearly INTIMIDATED by Morty’s presence, and that in itself was DELECTABLE. “Stuttering like that makes you sound an awful lot like this sad little boy I once knew. But you know what happened to him, don’t you? I k i l l e d him. And unlike a certain someone, I can say that word without choking up.”

[Rick recognized the identity of this Morty; or, at least, he knew who he associated with that damned eyepatch. His fellow Ricks, dumbshits involved with the council whom had spitefully informed him of the investigation’s results, noted that the version of Rick they’d hunted down was being controlled remotely. At the time, the grandfather had his suspicions – that Rick’s behavior was irrefutably Morty-esque and immature, not to mention that a majority of his ramblings involved how not a single Rick genuinely cared about their sidekick and grandson – but this encounter essentially confirmed it. The murderer still roaming the galaxy, traversing multiple realities without a hint of remorse, still intent on acting upon the grudge he held against the man whom had revealed it to him. His trigger finger trembled, entirely tempted to end this confrontation, though he knew fully well that he wouldn’t.]

[The evil “Rick” did have a point, after all; with the endless list of injustices inflicted upon most Ricks in their individual timelines, none of them could entrust themselves with attachment, with caring about human beings who were ultimately replaceable. Attachment was equivalent to vulnerability, and allowing themselves to care would merely result in their paranoia being justified. When Bird Person had ruthlessly been murdered by an agent of the Galactic Federation, Rick had sworn never to trust anyone ever again – and yet, even that breaking point of his had its restrictions. No matter what, he found himself incapable of disregarding his family, although he ought to view them as entirely expendable; granted, he’d abandoned one of his countless daughters in a timeline overrun by mutants, but perhaps his trust merely extended to his sidekick. Morty, the grandson he’d gradually grown fond of over the years, despite each inherent aspect of his deeply-seeded mistrust and avoidance refuting those feelings. Why else would he have only included Morty when he swapped dimensions? Why else would he find himself teary-eyed at the thought of losing him?]

[…Losing him…ironically, in his callous attempt to evade his family in order to “protect” them, he might have lost them at the hands of an alternate version of his grandson. One whom had evidently endured enough, and grown so sick of it that he’d retaliated with bloodshed and the torture of his fellow Morties. A grimace contorted the grandfather’s features, desperately wishing that he could be a decent enough human being to avenge his own goddamn family, but part of him wouldn’t…feel justified in doing so, not when it meant ending the life of his grandson. Another version of him, one which felt no mercy, no remorse, but a version of him nonetheless.]

[Rick hadn’t seen his own grandchild’s face in over a year; the face of his partner in crime, whom he cherished enough to sacrifice himself or others for. He could have ignored the tears his grandson had shed after exiting the bathroom of that tavern, or refused to attain vengeance by shooting the bastard that assaulted him; he could have left Morty behind in the “Cronenberg” dimension; he could very well have left Morty stranded in a void of a shattered reality with cats that were and weren’t Schrodinger’s; there were numerous opportunities for him to abandon the child, but he’d stuck around no matter the tension in their relationship. Perhaps he couldn’t accept that the one goddamn person he’d cherished so dearly that he would sacrifice everything for them had been killed – perhaps he couldn’t differentiate this Morty from his own, despite the evident differences in their attitudes. His grandson was an insecure piece of shit; this Morty was an arrogant, ruthless killer.]

[Perhaps he wanted to sustain a conversation with anyone resembling his grandchild, even if it resulted in his death – it wasn’t as though an event in this confrontation would result in him attaining the guts to pull the trigger.] [Weary eyes squinted slightly upon noticing the object that the Morty was dangling around behind him, managing to hide the object, yet provide a threat nonetheless. Of course, at this point, Rick didn’t give a damn about whatever harm came to him – he wanted fucking answers, closure, even if he learned that the family he’d desired to revisit and reconcile with was no longer around, but he didn’t care if he earned a death in the process. He was inching closer to death with every passing second – he had methods of preventing it, but the more he stuck around, the less he was willing to lengthen his lifespan, especially with the newly presented possibility that his family was dead.]

[Jesus. He’d endured plenty of death in his lifetime, both at his hands and the hands of others – he’d once committed mass genocide on a planetary scale, for that matter – but none of it affected him nearly as much as this single possibility. He’d never experienced the immense horror and despondence that accompanied witnessing his best friend DIE because he couldn’t prevent it; he’d never felt the overpowering despair that accompanied the possibility that his family was gone, thanks to him avoiding them for such an extended period.]

[His spare hand gradually raised itself to grip the gun, as though attaching both of them to his current weapon would amplify the threat, gritting his teeth at the Morty’s smug attitude. He realized that he currently held the upper hand, even remarking upon the grandfather’s evident dismay and how closely it resembled…]

[…His grandson’s. Not this bastard’s, but the grandson that this – this monster had proudly claimed to have killed. Every ounce of his being urged him to pull the damned trigger. Learning that his Morty was deceased instilled him with unparalleled exasperation, and yet he couldn’t lash out at another version of him. It was fucking PATHETIC. He truly was frail for being unable to set aside his affection.]

I’ll KILL you! [Although they were shouted, the words held no meaning; they were utterly useless, a fruitless attempt to intimidate him. He followed with demeaning statements, most of which merely spoken to express his fervent rage in the absence of his ability to react violently.] Y-You hear me!? If you laid a fucking finger on them, I’ll end your worthless fucking existence! No universe would miss a Morty like you – a goddamn bastard child who rebelled by killing everything around him!

Oh, yes. He’d been right to begin with. This WAS going to be fun! The pitiful man in front of him was no Rick; he was nothing but a shadow of the man he once was. He was showing every weakness in the book- making every mistake that people like him never did. Every mistake that his kind would surely OUTCAST him for. And yet he continued to threaten Morty? Surely, he must see how futile that was. He knew Ricks were a bit stubborn in accepting that their grandsons could pose any sort of threat to them, of course, but this was a bit much, even for a Rick.

His malicious grin only widened when a second hand was brought up to the man’s gun, as if that would aid him in pulling the trigger when it should be painfully obvious to Rick that such an event wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Honestly, his inability here was pretty pathetic, not to mention the ATROCIOUS acting. Was he honestly acting as if he cared what became of the family here? It wasn’t as if it was his family. When had ANY Rick EVER cared about people that were so easily replaceable, anyhow? No, Morty could assume that the ANGUISH presented was for his sake- a last effort for a Rick to manipulate a Morty into doing his bidding, but he wasn’t going to fall for that. How could he? He was better now, and better than this sad man before him, too.

Yet, the look in the man’s eyes intrigued him, as a child might be intrigued watching a fish flail helplessly around on the land, knowing that it would die within minutes, but far too excited to see something new to care about the death of such a lowly creature. He wanted to know MORE- wanted to know why this man was so hesitant to pull the trigger and why he cared so much about anything in this dimension. There were an infinite number of dimensions he could find spare family members in, but he’d picked this one and was so DISTRAUGHT when things didn’t turn out his way.

A small chuckle was released at the man’s last statements. Perhaps he was giving the guy too much credit. Perhaps he was a weaker breed of Rick- one that truly did care. Well, one that lied to himself that he did, anyway. How TRAGIC.

“You think I ruined this family? *Me*?” He paused for a moment, allowing himself to openly laugh with his entire body for several solid seconds, cutting himself off with an obnoxious sort of snorting sound that only someone who was genuinely amused could make. He shrugged and shook his head, holding out both arms which revealed a rather advanced looking laser pistol that he’d been holding behind his back, but he simply set it aside on his Rick’s old, dusted work table before he closed the distance between him and his latest playmate, standing close enough for him to feel the point of Rick’s weapon against his forehead.

“_Jeez, G R A M P A, you really are a dumb one. You think a Morty could do something like this? We’re useless, remember? SHIELDS and CANNON FODDER for almighty GENIUSES like you. No, Rick. If you’re looking for someone to blame, try looking in a mirror. The Rick from this dimension? He’s gone._” The cat-like grin from his face faltered ever so slightly, obvious anger flittering in his expression, but he continued smiling nevertheless. “He abandoned them, Rick. Threw them to the side the second they stopped catering to his every need all under a pitiful guise of self sacrifice. So if you’re looking for a new REPLACEMENT FAMILY, you’re about a year and a half too late. I’m all that’s left of this family now.” A small hint to the fate of Rick’s ‘family’ in this dimension; a subtle clue to how Morty had become the way he had, but nothing too obvious. After all, giving him the answers he wanted on a silver platter was no fun at all. Morty wanted to see him BEG for them. He wanted him to suffer the way he had for years.

Truthfully, Morty didn’t know if his parents or sister were alive or not, nor did he care anymore. But if Rick thought Morty had murdered his entire family, well, that would just help instill FEAR in the man; help him cower in the boy’s presence like he ought to.

[This Morty’s amused reaction, followed by his relinquishment of his hidden weapon, did naught to quell the fury within him; eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t lower his own pistol, even if it was acting as a pointless accessory at this point. Setting it aside now would merely prove his own fragility, provide a shred of evidence that he cared – besides, it was likely that this version of his grandson had certain tricks up his sleeve. Even without the pistol he’d been playfully waving around behind his back, he’d likely be equipped with a variety of other armaments that he wouldn’t hesitate to utilize. Better to pretend that he had some sort of “upper hand” here, even if he truly didn’t.]

[His following words struck a chord within the grandfather; particularly, hearing “grampa” once more, mockingly, from a version of his grandchild that might have massacred all he cared about on this godforsaken planet – in this godforsaken universe. The eyepatched Morty proceeded to insist upon the misconceptions he’d formed regarding the “ideals” of other Ricks – how they considered their own grandsons as nothing but tools, even developing a form of “insurance” should they lose or kill their universe’s Morty – and although such might apply to alternate versions of himself, particularly those who had attained membership with the Council of Ricks, it didn’t ring true for this version of himself. Rick berated himself for his attitude frequently, even considered his irrational attachment to his own grandchild – his family – as “toxic” and “unhealthy,” but the feelings remained with him nevertheless, making this encounter that much more infuriating.]

[Finally, the killer spoke up about the supposed “fate” of this dimension’s Rick; under different circumstances, he’d regard Morty’s ignorance here humorous, but it did force him to wonder – if this version of his grandson was clever enough to support himself in traversing the multiverse, how was it that he was clueless that the Rick standing before him and aiming a trembling pistol at his head was the one from this dimension? Beyond that, there was a tinge of personal resentment in the way his grin faltered, brief as it was. It was as though this Morty wasn’t recalling the fate of an alternate grandfather, but rather, the one he himself had grown up with. Of course, that was mere speculation…but it uneased him regardless.]

[This dimension’s Rick had “abandoned” them under a guise of self-sacrifice? He might have…drifted through the galaxy for months before he dared to return, but it wasn’t spent without intent to do so. Hell, his very reason for crumbling the Galactic Federation was so that he’d be able to rejoin his family without concerning himself or them over being apprehended – yet, his only reason for preventing himself from doing so was out of dread that his presence would further ravage the family’s state. He, in essence, was a pernicious force in his family’s life…and that wouldn’t change, even if he sought to better himself.]

[Then – those final words, “I’m all that’s left of this family,” caused Rick’s animosity to waver – the shaky pistol in his hand lowered, eyes staring in disbelief at the Morty before him, wondering if it was possible for his own Morty to exist right before him. However, this examination of his grandson ceased rather quickly, the pistol now forced up against the child’s head as he internally convinced himself that the little bastard was utilizing manipulation now…even if he didn’t even recognize that this Rick was from this dimension.]

YOU’RE all that’s left of this family? D-Don’t give me that shit. I know who you are -- what you are – and you’re not from this dimension. If you were, don’t you think you’d recognize your own damned grandfather? [His expression twitched, aggression instantaneously replaced by dejection, and just as quickly returning to indignation.] I didn’t abandon them. For fuck’s sake, I – I escaped an intergalactic prison to see them again, I wiped out the Federation, a-and I came back to this shit! I wasn’t looking for a REPLACEMENT family. I was looking for MY family. A-And you…you killed them, d-didn’t you!?

Are you really trying to trick me into thinking that YOU’RE my Morty? I’m not nearly as dumb as he is – …was. I’m…not falling for that bullshit.

It was so satisfying to see him falter the way he did- to see any version of the man that had RUINED his life crumple before him. Morty had never really been one for revenge, per se, killing when necessary and when given the chance but not going out of his way to track down and exterminate anyone who had ever wronged him. That would be stupid, after all; a sure way to get caught and KILLED like the previous owner of his eyepatch had. No, if Morty was to take revenge at all, he was clever about it. And he’d W A I T for it as long as he had to. After all, this confrontation was much more satisfying than if he’d hunted down Ricks as his predecessor had.

He knew he would enjoy coming back here, in some sick, twisted way. He HATED this place, of course, but seeing the ruins of the sad, broken life he’d left behind was charming in its own way. It was a reminder of how much he’d changed; how much he’d GROWN. He DESPISED the boy he used to be, hated him with a passion that burned much deeper and brighter than his hatred towards Rick ever could, but reminders of that kid’s DEATH were fantastic- exhilarating.

But he was having more fun in this hovel than he ever could have imagined. Planned revenge was NOTHING compared to the JOY this brought him. He didn’t know what was wrong with this man- what defective dimension he’d crawled out of- but Morty was loving every minute of this interaction. Ironic, really, when you considered how much he hated the old crone. But the company of an enemy was ALWAYS exciting when they acted as pathetically as he was.

The shock- the fear- the DISBELIEF in his expression when Morty announced who he was; it was precious. A small, condescending “aw” escaped his lips, head tilting to the side in mock sympathy as he lowered the gun. Well. That was almost TOO easy. A step backwards was taken, but certainly not out of fear. No, he just wanted to remain eye contact with his prey as he retrieved his weapon- wanted to cherish every pathetic emotion on his features until he breathed his last breath. Because this? Oh, he didn’t want to miss even a MOMENT of t h i s.

Steady hands that were in an obvious contrast to the man’s shaky grip grabbed his pistol, giving a small shrug as he began to raise it in his direction only to freeze once he heard the phrase “your own damned grandfather” escape his lips. His gaze, full of a confident seething HATRED wobbled, brown eyes widening in astonishment- in HORROR- at his words.

“Gr- R... Rick?” His voice came out small and scared. In the moment, it was as if he was still that pathetic little boy, mourning the loss of his grandfather and wishing- PLEADING- that he would come home to them so he didn’t have to live another day without him- his best and only friend. A trembling gaze traced the man’s features. Most Morties might not be able to tell the small differences between Ricks, but Morty had always EXCELLED at that. He made a note of every little feature. They lined up PERFECTLY with those of his own grandfather, but...

He wasn’t... He couldn’t be...

Another step backwards was taken, void of the confidence he’d had only moments before. One hand held his weapon which had lowered itself helplessly to the ground as his other gripped the work table behind him with enough intensity for his knuckle to go white.

“No. Sh-Shut up.” He internally chastised himself for allowing that dreadful STUTTER to come back after working so long and hard to eliminate it from his vocal patterns. His gaze hardened as his body shook with an overwhelming anger, stronger and much more unstable- much more FEEBLE- than his usual seething hatred.

“You’re not. Him.”

[That patronizing “aw” arising from the alternate version of his grandson merely provoked Rick further; he ought to have recognized that such a pathetic fabrication, the insinuation that he was a member of his family, was a simple attempt at forcing him to lower his guard. All he could really do as the child reached for his pistol calmly, the weapon entirely still in his tightened grip (as opposed to quivering in the grandfather’s), was stare with the knowledge that his demise was likely imminent. Frankly, if he did manage to “go out” this way, he couldn’t say that he’d regret it – fuck, wasn’t this the result he had desired throughout his self-imposed exile? He’d always assumed that his death would be at his own hands. If it was at those of his grandson’s instead…even if it was an alternate, bloodthirsty version of him, he might even feel a bit more justified.]

[Answers were what he’d sought, and at this point, he’d obtained them. Dying like the pathetic, emotion-driven version of himself he was might be entirely fitting here. Rather than exhibiting any sort of recalcitrance, or shooting the bastard in an act of self-preservation, an exhausted expression replaced any form of duress on his feature. Perhaps his acceptance of his fate would come across as disappointing to the miniature sociopath, but that wouldn’t matter in the long run, not if his fate was as irrevocably short as it currently seemed.]

[However, the threat to his existence was short-lived; the pistol had been lifted and aimed precisely, but after hearing the grandfather claim to be of this dimension, the Morty froze. The seething, confident, unbridled rage shifted to appalled astonishment once the words sunk in, and momentarily, his demeanor even resembled his own Morty’s.]

[As dismaying as the sight was, the grandfather did little to express his own concern upon witnessing such a significant fracture in the child’s act. Even when Morty faltered, when he comprehended the “gr” preceding the utterance of Rick’s name as an unfinished “grampa,” he refuted every urge to reach out, every temptation to perhaps accept the Morty’s story – if only to somehow connect to someone claiming to be his own grandson again. However, he recognized that it’d be wiser to reject the likely bullshit that this Morty was spewing. There was no ascertaining whether this was an act, and it was better to “be safe than sorry” – to deny any possibility that the child before him was a version of his own grandchild, adversely affected by the grandfather’s absence.]

[Granted, perhaps a portion of his defiance toward a possible truth was because he couldn’t bear the thought that his disappearance would have affected his own grandchild in such a manner. Hell, he had assumed that this was the perpetrator of the Rick murders that they’d been inadvertently forced to solve – this version of his grandson didn’t strike him as anything but a ruthless killer. Beyond that, the child proclaimed that his Rick had entirely abandoned them – when such evidently hadn’t been the case. In the year that had passed, had he deluded himself to the point of convincing himself that the grandfather had no motive to protect them? That his self-induced imprisonment was merely for self-gain?]

[It felt impossible that a child this distorted could be his own grandson, from their reality. It…didn’t feel real, and yet it was…unfortunately plausible.]

[As Morty stepped back, entirely dismissive of the grandfather’s claims as he lowered his weapon and gripped the workbench behind him, Rick offered a dejected and frustrated sigh. It’d provide a significant disadvantage, not to mention rid him of any potential self-defense, but he tucked his own pistol back into his pocket. It was better than clinging to some false shred of hope that he’d somehow bring himself to resort to violence against a Morty – one that claimed to be his own grandson, even if the grandfather had ultimately decided against the accuracy of such an assertion.]

Yeah? And how would you know? [His tone was substantially more condescending than previously, as though he was regaining the confidence that he’d lost the moment he’d begun facing off with a Morty who would easily murder him without a second thought. Rick was satiated with the response he’d received toward the condition of his family; it was more faithful than any other nonsense this Morty had spouted, even if it resulted in naught but the grandfather’s aggravation and contempt placed both upon himself and this Morty. He had his answers, so it didn’t matter whether he retaliated here – in all likelihood, no matter what he ultimately decided upon with regard to this confrontation, he would die. It was simply a matter of whether it was at this Morty’s hand or his own. Nothing here would matter.]

Seems more like you don’t know jack-shit about this reality. I didn’t abandon shit, and if you really were part of the family I left behind, you’d recognize that, right? I’m no idiot. You can act like you’re my grandkid all you want, but I’m not gonna – gonna fall for the manipulation you’re going for here.

[Crossing his arms with his usual mien of arrogance, he continued, one of his hands briefly lifting themselves to gesture for the Morty to come toward him and attack if he could bring himself to.]

Hey, you took every other goddamn thing from me, from my gadgets to my FAMILY. You wanna finish the job and kill me, go ahead. You’re obviously not my Morty, and I’ve got nothing left without him. Prove how “independent” you are and pull the trigger, asshole, if you’ve got the guts.

[fincht]

The Pursuit of Peace: reflection of last year’s Hari Raya

Idul Fitri is coming close, so I think it’s a good moment for me to have a little bit of thinking. I wrote this sometime last year; rereading it reminded me of the need, every year, to redefine the meaning of things that happen throughout the months. Maybe my views will have changed by then when Idul Fitri comes this year. Maybe not. I’d still like to share, nevertheless. Maybe there’s anyone out there who would have the same state of questioning. Maybe you. Maybe not; regardless, let’s talk about it a little bit.

The big day (a.k.a. lebaran) has just passed and I couldn't help but have mixed feelings about how it went. It used to feel so grand and so festive and I used to look forward to it so very much it would just make me really excited. But today, as I may have grown a little too old for treats and new clothes and maybe even THR money, I just feel the need to really ponder what kind of meaning this day is really actually supposed to have.

We woke up early in the morning so we could do our morning prayer and go to the mosque to do our Eid prayer together with everybody else. As it ended, a man rose up to the podium and began a speech; a 10-minute preach to end the jamaah/gathering. Again it went really strange to my eyes; while the man was talking, a group of women started to walk around and give out snack boxes, creating a bit of a hassle and basically distracting most women's attention from the man speaking on the podium. But then again, when I fully directed my attention to the man speaking in the front, what he was talking about wasn't exactly that much asking for attention either. He was reading off a piece of paper and talked about the history of Rasulullah and a few other things around it, not exactly making a certain point or giving any sort of take-home message. So all that was going on at that very moment was very much detached from each other without even realizing it; everything seemed to have lost meaning and happened just because they had to.

I came home and my family gathered together to cherish the day and wish the best for each other; some people cried and truths came out--this was one part of the day that felt to truly have meaning. It didn't last for that long because people had things to do, and then everyone went to the dining room to enjoy the great meal that has been prepared since yesterday. (It was good, really, this one too was quite meaningful.) After that, I went to take my phone; and there they were: messages from people wishing Eid Mubarak, apologies for past mistakes, and wishes for a better coming year.

My mind stirred with a question: how did people make time to do these things?

I felt like I, who barely had any contribution to the preparation for this day, already had so little time to even go and look at my phone, let alone to send all these messages to all these people. Maybe I was just absent or was oblivious of the moment; but I felt like having some time with my cousins and nieces and nephews already took so much of my time. And it felt good. To not care too much about what goes on in your inbox. I just think that I wanted this moment to be a moment of peace, and taking care of all these messages would just make me a little dazzled?

These people; with all the seemingly time-consuming messages; how are they enjoying their peace?

Or is it actually their way of enjoying it? To share all these nice words, to ask for forgiveness through the tap of a button, and to bomb up the celebration to all your friends, family, and acquaintances--is it just the way?

And then I thought; if instead of spreading the words so much everyone were just to enjoy their time alone with their families and/or close ones, phones off, would Idul Fitri really feel that lonely?

Or shouldn't that lonesomeness, that quiet celebration after a month of encouraged reflection, be the peace we need to be seeking for?

Tell me what I need to know.

[dishinshoryuken]

All i wanted for Christmas 2017 was thr boys to enjoy themselves & for #MyMandieMae to be happy and relaxed....plus her to do a fashion show for me. 2017 Christmas has come and gone. The family had a calm and soothing day of opening gifts and enjoying the family time. It was peaceful and not that many cries of anger or pain arose. A few bumps and cuts from the boys playing with their new wares but not much serious. The love of my heart got her gifts and she seemed content and collected today. And what a day it was. Her family came down last week and stayed til the Christmas Eve before they left to continue the adventure of travel. I had 1 incident and i have to wonder if that is because i stopped taking the Prozac when they got here. The reason i stopped taking it is a selfish one- i could not stay up erectile like i used to. Since i stopped taking it, i habe had 2 days of morning wood again....and i am back to my regular schedule service. How am i on the depressed side of things? She has left me in a state if euphoric bliss over the last month. I know i say things about her new guy but the way she treated me lately has been better than August or September. I want to say it is because she is acting like herself again or that the holidays brought out the best in her....but i honestly do not know the reason for her being cordial towards me as of late. I am enjoying it.....but trying to not get too comfy in case it all falls apart. Case in point- this Christmas 2017, she allowed me to be with her this morning before going down stairs to open gifts with the boys. I triple checked to make sure i was not presuming anything when i first felt her grind me as we lay in bed together. The boys kept asking when we were gonna open gifts and she told them if they keep asking, it will be 10 more minutes. So they went downstairs. As i lay there feeling her warmth, her curves, her soft smooth skin under my roaming hands, her buttocks moved against my morning riser that i had attempted to not poke her with since i woke and discovered he was back. I thought maybe she was getting comfy until she moved again, with a longer grinding on me. Sliding my hands to her hips, she then gave me another grind that she was doing this on purpose and for a reason. She took control and rocked both our mornings with a session worthy of confession. She stopped me at 930 AM to say we should go do the present thing. Good brakes....really good brakes. I wish I could say that she was satisfied, yet without a kiss to her lips.... As she sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, i saw the woman i fell in love with there again. She smiled and looked at me for a few more seconds with that look i missed seeing. And then she got dressed and out the bedroom door she went. I lay there a few more seconds before i saw that she had left her mark on the sheets that she used to do when she had her fill and fun. I wondered....but will never know truly. They all opened their gifts and laughed and smiled. She opened her from the boys and wore the sweater they had gotten her (as seen in the pic above). We then watched movies where she placed her feet up for me to rub while we watched. It was a wonderful day to love her and enjoy the time with my boys and her. No friends over. Just us...and it was the best gift i had been given. Later on, she aaid she was tired and wanted to finish watching the movie upstairs. She invited me to do so with her....and the movie was pretty ungood. Needless to say, she surprised me again with more grinding. We proceeded to caress and indulge in each other again and after this session, she went cold. It is my fault as i take the blame when things do not go the way for her i want. I attempted to rekindle what we had started and she brushed me off and closed up emotionally and physically. Sleep took her after dinner and i watched her rest a real rest i have not seen for a while. She barely tossed or turned and when she did, my arm around her placed her back in sleep mode smoothly. She went through her regular motions of spooning with me as my little spoon, wrapping her legs around me as she faced me, and when i felt myself getting aroused and moved to the side of the bed to not bother her, she moved over and spooned me with her arm over my chest which has not happened in a few weeks. She left me in heaven all this month and this last day had made me feel godly. I felt chosen again and i felt her. And i canno lie- i want to keep feeling this with her as it makes life so much more than just time ticking. It makes memories and emotions felt and cherished. It shows what living should include in it. #MyMandieMae- you have blessed me with one of the best months i have had with you in a long time. Anx it being this good, i am terrified if things go sour. Showing me that there is some aspect of you that gives a care has meant so much to me and i hope it continues for the new year and more. But if this is just a holiday thing and you are gonna go back to biting my head off and snapping at me....thank you for showing me the you i fell in love with again. Knowing she is in you still does my heart good to know she is real.

[ghost-writer-rights]

Writers block

Warnings: minor drug use (it’s just marijuana), shotgunning, Byakuya mention, kinds bad writing towards the end.

“Uuhhhhhh”

Yasuhiro had heard a sound come from the library. He wasn’t planning on going to the library but he might as well see what’s going on.

When he walked in he could see two figures in there. One was in the corner with only the light from the computer glowing enough to let them see the notepad they also had next to them. Their hair was bunched up in their hands and thr sound had seemed to come from them. They were hunched over looking hopelessly from the computer screen to the notepad.

And the other person was Togami walking out.

“She’s been doing that for almost 10 minutes now. It’s getting impossible to read” He said as he passed Hiro

“Do you at least now what’s wrong, Booyaka?” At the end of his sentence the rich boy stopped immediately in his tracks

“First of all my name is Byakuya Togami and you will refer to me as such. Secondly, I attempted to ask Fukawa what her problem was but she seemed too stressed to know I was even there”

Hiro would’ve asked a follow up question but Byakuya had already started walking again.

As the taller man started walking farther into the library and towards Toko he could see more of her features.

The way she had let her long eggplant colored hair out of its braids. It was a mess.

He could see the dark circles under her eyes everytime she looked back to the notepad and furiously scribbled something.

He could see the way her leg shakes from beneath her ankle length skirt and how her nails were bit down to the point where they almost bled.

He looked at the screen as she chewed anxiously on her pencil.

As he looked and saw the woman he loves and cherishes more than anything fall back into the arms of the man who doesn’t deserve her. He was furious at how she could go back after all that he’s done to show her how much she meant to him. In her defense, it wasn’t like he ever confessed how he truly he truly felt. As far as she knew she had just gained a friendship that she didn’t want to ruin with unsure feelings. She

“Writer’s block?” Hiro asked from behind Fukawa

Out of frustration she shoved her head in her hands. Hair resting in between her fingertips.

She didn’t hear Yasuhiro. She was too distracted with the absolute garbage in front of her. She knew what was wrong and she knew what she had to write but she just couldn’t do it. It was too much and she was so close to her due date she just had to finish this last chapter. She was too stressed to figure out how to end this.

I just need to take a walk and then my brain will be less like the dumpster fire I am. she thought.

As Toko stood and turned to go to the cafeteria she bumped into something.

“w-w-what are you doing here?” Toko said startled “Aren’t you too dumb to read o-or whatever”

“Ow, Toukocchi,’ Hiro put an over exaggerated hand on his chest in fake hurt, "I’m not that dumb! Your words wound me”

“Well then what are you d-doing here?”

Hiro lifted his hand and put it onto on the fidgety girls head. She flinched a bit.

“You’re having writers block?”

“Y-yeah what’s it to you?” It was a rhetorical question. She had said it almost in anger

“And you’re stressed” Toko hated how soft his voice was all the time. What does he have to be so calm about anyway?

“What are all these useful questions for!”

“I can help you calm down if you need it” Hiro had a way of calming down. It was the one thing people could tell just by looking at him. I mean he looks like the definition of Smoke Weed Everyday. But of course, Fukawa being desperate to finish her work said

“Whatever, buh but make it quick!”

—-

So here they were. The fidgety,anxious, eggplant hair girl sitting on a beanbag chair less than 5 feet away from the worlds calmest, coolest and most collected man.

It wasn’t awkward. At least not for Hagakure who was rolling up what was about to be Fukawa’s “first weed” as she said it.

“first weed” gosh she’s adorable.

It was the least strong of what he had. He didn’t want to scare her too bad with the effects of it. She did have a novel she had to finish.

“S-so what does it d-d-do exactly?”

Hiro almost didn’t understand the question. He forgot how different people react to stuff like this.

“Well, it depends. The most common of things that could happen is that you get the munchies -you know what that is right?- and you laugh a lot. There’s more but those are the most common. You should just generally feel lighter. Not like you’re constantly holding something crazy heavy and expensive and if you drop it everything is gonna shatter, ya know?”

“y-yeah. Do you feel that way often?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes times worse than others”

“O-oh I’m sorry”

“it’s no biggie, Toukocchi, it’s not like you did anything to cause it. it’s just how life is sometimes” He gave Toko a reassuring smile.

Even in this awkward situation Toko seemed to relax more.

Hiro had lit up the joint and took a inhaled its contents as he put it to his lips.

It wasn’t until he passed it to Fukawa that she felt scared to do it. She thought she could but it truly stressed her out more.

“Everything okay?”

“I-I’m.. I’m sorry. I thought this would be easier than it is”

Hiro looked at the joint then to the disappointed look on Toko’s face.

“Um, there’s uh. There’s another way to do this. If you still want to that is. You wouldn’t have to do anything really” Hiro felt awkward now. He wanted for Fukawa to feel calmer he did but this seemed to just stress him out.

“There is?” Toko spoke with a slight ounce of optimism in her voice

“Yeah, all that you would have to do is inhale really. You don’t even have to hold this” He said taking the roller up paper back and resting it in between his middle and ring finger.

God, he was scared. How could he not be. She doesn’t even know what the fucks going on right now.

“I would have to get like, super close to you though”

“How how close?”

“Like.. feel your breath on my face close. Like a kiss almost”

“uh-uh-A WHAT?!”

“It’s not a real kiss. here I’ll show you”

Hiro once again inhaled but this time held the smoke in his mouth. Then he stood up to get closer to Toko. He was gonna kneel in front of her but Toko stood up too. Okay. He cupped her face in his palm and let his thumb tugging on her chin to indicate that she needed to open he mouth a bit. As Hiro started leaning in Fukawa stood on her tiptoes to meet him half way. He tilted his head a but then their noses touched and could see how Toko closed her eyes. He slowly exhaled the smoke from his mouth into hers.

As he said she should Toko breathed in his smoke.

When he pulled away he couldn’t help but laugh.

“W-whats so funny?”

“ha! That-you just look so cute!”

Fukawa face turned as red as Leon’s hair. She turned and hid her face in her hand and mumbled something.

“hehe what’s that Toukocchi?” He said still laughing

“I was just saying how I-I could put something like this my next book. I-I-I mean the amount of tension that I could create just from a situation like this is phenomenal. There’s a sense of romance and pinning that I could just ooze from writing about this”

As Yasuhiro heard the gibberish that spouted from the woman he loves and cherishes more than anything he couldn’t help smile. He stepped closer to were Toko had walked off to mumbling in his room and wrapped ome arm around her waist lazily and let the other one rest on her shoulder and he spoke quietly in her ear

“So this is romantic huh? Should we ooze tension out of this too?”

Toko screamed. Hiro laughed and they both finished the joint. It was mostly Hiro but whatever.

—-

The next day In the cafeteria Hagekure sat next to Toko at breakfast. It was an omelet day.

“Hey, Toukocchi, did you ever finish your book?”

“y-yeah I did actually. Um, thank you, Yasuhiro” she did a pathetic version of what a smile is. It still warmed His heart.

“Anytime, kid” he said with a wink.

“Maybe next time don’t grunt for 10 minutes” a voice spoke as it sat down

“S-Sorry Byakuya!”

“Apology considered, Fukawa”