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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Alpha Jungkook x Omega Oc!

Genre : Angst , Hurt/ Comfort.

Chapter 1 ⋆ Chapter 2 ⋆ Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ⋆ Chapter 5 ⋆

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary : Nine months after her marriage ends, Kim Heejin is a reclusive artist, who works out of a renovated warehouse in Busan, her days and nights spent with canvas and paint. Its exactly what she’s ever wanted, to be left alone. And yet, that nagging feeling of incompletion keeps her on her toes. And perhaps, it is that longing for something substantial, something real that pushes her to give her flawed but lovable ex-husband another chance.

Chapter 9

“I… No. Just… please tell him I’ll be down…I’ll come down to the lobby to meet him.” I said quickly, panicking at the idea of having him here. I’d barely been here a day but this was still my space. And if I had him here then his scent would just seep into every nook and corner.

The room would smell like him then… And what would I do after he left?

God, what was I even thinking? Head swimming, I crawled to the edge of the bed and breathed shakily.

It felt surreal, climbing out of the bed and moving to the vanity . I stared at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the makeup bag I kept with me all the time. Wide eyes and parted lips, creamy gold skin turning lily white because of how the blood had just drained after that phone call.

I looked petrified .

Jungkook… I thought numbly. Jungkook’s waiting downstairs and I’m going to see him.

What is he thinking.... What is he feeling... why is he even here?

You’re not responsible for his emotions, Taehyung’s soothing voice in my head helped a bit but not a whole lot. What about my emotions, I though desperately, grabbing the tube of gloss and slowly uncapping it. I ran the end of it over my lips and felt my fingers tremble because I didn’t know why I felt this need …to look beautiful.

I didn’t need to, I though miserably. Everyone knew omegas were beautiful. Beta supermodels were beautiful yes but they couldn’t hold a candle to me, at least for someone like Jungkook. He was an alpha, his brain was built to find me attractive. I had evolutionary genetics on my side, which mean that if I ever actually wanted to seduce Jungkook , he wouldn’t really stand a chance .

But I didn’t want that.

I had had enough of that. Enough of seeing handsome, rich alphas being reluctantly attracted to me. They made it obvious too. Most of the hate mail I got stemmed from angry wives or girlfriends accusing me of seducing their men , even though I’d never so much as laid my eyes on them. It was so unfair.

I didn’t enjoy watching them lose their minds at the sight and scent of me, because i knew that deep down, they thought that all omegas were scum.

Manipulative, sex driven , greedy and selfish . Those were the labels I got plastered with , on the media and on the streets.

And Jungkook wasn’t different, I reminded myself firmly, pulling away from the mirror and grabbing the loose powder and dusting down some of it on the apple of my cheeks and down the length of my nose.

He didn’t think any different than the others. Jungkook’s views on omegas were just as archaic and bigoted as everyone else’s .

He just didn’t act on them .

Sighing, I dropped the lipgloss back in the back and brushed my hair off my face. On a whim , I pulled off the hair tie holding the thick strands together, letting the wavy tresses fall over my shoulder. I hadn’t cut my hair in a long time and it felt to my hips now. My stylist was adamant that it added to my aesthetic.

A primal siren, she had said staring at me in awe, like something eternal and beautifully dangerous. We’re lucky you seem incapable of hate, Heejin ...because I think you could bring grown men to their knees with that body and that face.

I felt nauseous at the thought of it.

Walking to the elevator felt like walking the plank and I had stop a couple of times, just to breathe deeply. I had to be smart about this. I was in therapy. Taehyung had taught me how to handle situations like this and while my heart was pounding too hard and my brain was too scrambled to use any of his therapy techniques, I still had some of my cognitive abilities intact.

He came here, i thought desperately.

He came looking for you and that means he isn’t nervous or worried or overthinking this because he doesn’t have feelings for you. If you want to come out of this unscathed, you need to get your head on straight. You need to pretend that you didn’t just have a minor mental breakdown at the thought of him dating someone else.

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply before stepping into the elevator. The ride down to the lobby was barely a few seconds and when I stepped out, I realized the place was way too crowded for such an exclusive Hotel. And then I remembered that people were here for the Art Festival. I glanced at the reception desk, covertly, noting a conspicuous lack of Jeon Jungkook. The lady behind the desk held her hand up when she spotted me .

“Ms. Kim? Mr. Jeon just went to get you a drink...He’s over by the breakfast counter over there.” She pointed out the dining space where people were walking about getting breakfast and I swallowed, feeling hot and cold as I cautiously stepped into the crowd, trying to find a that familiar head of thick dark hair.

I felt the apprehension build as I tugged on my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to reign in the chaos in my mind but it was impossible, everything too loud and too messy. I looked around and then, it hit me.

His scent.

I felt my lips part in surprise, and it felt like someone had turned the volume down , noises fading into a dull hum at the back of my mind as I stared at him. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I took a second to just....look.

He looked incredible.

There was really no other word for it. Incredibly handsome, Incredibly beautiful and so incredibly perfect as the late morning sun lit up the room, picking out the shine on his white silk shirt. I breathed in deep, my mindeasily picking out the musky pine scent of him and I stepped closer, moving straight towards him and I caught the exact moment my scent his senses.

He jerked a bit, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide before he turned, lips parted and gaze a bit unfocused as he looked around.

When he caught sight of me, he just blinked.

I smiled weakly, body going limp with relief because.... because this was Jungkook. Not some monster I had to run from. This was Jungkook....even at his worst he had been better than some of the other people I’d met in life.

I looked down at the drink in his hand and smiled a bit as he made his way over.

“ This isn’t the same as buying me a coffee.” I said shakily as he finally stepped upto me.

His eyes danced with warmth.

“What makes you think I can afford one? Besides, aren’t you the hotshot artist? Shouldn’t you be the one buying me stuff?” He said softly.

“Just saw you on the front cover of a magazine. We both know you’re far from destitute..” Even through the smile, I felt the tug of emotion as I stared at him, felt the difference in him like night and day, the light and joy and ...contentment that seemed to radiate off him .

He smiled and held the drink out to me gently.

“ Heejin-ah.” He whispered.

And somehow it was the sound of his voice, wrapping around the syllables of my name that finally did it.

I felt the tears brim over, my lips parting in choked laughter as I stepped close and wrapped both my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. I felt him hold me, infinitely gentle and I exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t miss you, at all.” I said shakily. He laughed lightly.

“I missed you , too.” He stroked the back of my head gently and I sighed, fingers curling on the silk of his shirt. The fabric felt like liquid in my fingers and I played with it for a second, intensely aware that people were starting to stare. That this embrace had gone on for longer than social norms dictated but I couldn’t bring myself to care, letting my chin rest against his shoulder blades.

And it was almost frightening.....how easy it was to pretend we weren’t broken at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was so small when I last held her... I can’t believe she’s running around.” I said, awed, listening to Jungkook tell me about how Mina liked to climb everywhere. He laughed, shaking his head.

"She’s growing bigger everyday. I can barely keep up.” Jungkook smiled, holding a hand out for me to step over the wooden slats that lined the tiny archway that led to the door to his building. I hesitated before lightly gripping his hand in mine, the gesture somehow feeling more intimate that it was.

“You’re not staying at the Firenze?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again when he let go.

it was such a ridiculous thing but I’d never held hands with him. And It felt ridiculously nice, to slot my fingers with his, feel them in between mine. His palm against mine, calloused but somehow so comforting.

I’d forgotten how warm he was.

Don’t. Don’t fall down this rabbit hole again, Heejin. We talked about this. He doesn’t think of you that way. He doesn’t. And neither should you. its unfair to him. He doesn’t deserve that.

“No... As you can see my apartment is barely ten minutes away and Soeun has her exams so its easier for her to watch over Mina here at the apartment.

“Soeun?” I asked curiously.

“Park Soeun? She’s a University student who lives with me. She’s doing a correspondence course in fashion . So she’s home all the time and she helps out with Mina. And she speaks Italian so that’s a huge plus... ” He smiled. “ you’ll like her. She’s a good kid.”

Don’t make that face. Don’t fucking make that face, Heejin.

I struggled to keep my face straight , like I wasn’t feeling the weight of a dozen bricks at the base of my stomach.

“A roommate...then..?” I asked quietly and he shrugged.

“Something like that. But mostly she helps take care of Mina when I’m out on an assignment.” He smiled and led me past two flight of stairs up to the studio apartment.

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stopped in front of a wrought iron grill, gripping one end and sliding it open with ease. And then he rang the small bell n the side. I shuffled back and forth on my foot, heart racing.

The door opened and I blinked because of how young the girl who opened the door was. A second later she was beaming, moving forward and wrapping both her arms around me.

“Unnie!” She squealed, hugging me so close that I almost choked. Completely thrown I could only gape at Jungkook who was laughing .

“Oh, I forgot to mention..she’s a bit of a fan. “ He teased lightly and I smiled awkwardly, watching as she pulled back to stare at me, her gaze trained on my face unblinkingly.

“Whoa...” She reached out and lightly touched my cheek with her forefinger making me jump. She flinched as well, flushing red.

“Shit..sorry...I just... I’ve never... I’ve never met an omega before.” She said softly. “ You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt my heart pound, steeping back instinctively, an overwhelming urge to hide , anxiety pooling in my stomach as she continued to stare at me. I hated the attention and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Soeun, enough. Don’t make it weird.” Jungkook said sternly, voice hard and the girl immediately flushed, bowing apologetically.

“Sorry...I.. sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ... You’re pretty.” She said again before turning to Jungkook.

“I have to get some stuff for my exhibit, Jungkook oppa... Mina’s asleep. i’ll be staying over at Vince’s place for the night though. Is that okay?”

“Sure..have fun.” Jungkook smiled, “ Vince is her boyfriend.” He explained and Soeun nodded happily.

“Italian men are absolutely amazing unnie...you should try some.” She winked and I laughed despite myself.

“I just might...” I said with a grin, watching as she walked over to slip on a pair of sneakers from the small shoe closet near the door. She waved enthusiastically all but bouncing away and I blinked at him , shaking my head.

“I feel a hundred years old right now.” I said softly, still stunned by the girl’s exorbitant energy. Jungkook laughed at that

“She definitely has that effect on people... Come on, I’ll show you around.” He held his hand out and I smiled , taking his fingers mine and letting him tug me further into the studio apartment.

I looked around, taking in the full blown prints of Mina and Jungkook , caught in adorable poses in front of different tourist spots in Florence. I saw how much she looked like Jungkook now, and how openly affectionate they looked together, the love evident even in the still photos.

And then my eyes fell on a familiar painting , my stomach lurching.

“You... “ i turned to him in a rush and he was staring at me with a small smile.

“I had to bring that. It pretty much saved me, that painting.” He said casually, stepping close and running his fingers all over the print.

“When you told me this is how Sooah saw me...” He traced the picture carefully before glancing at me,” it made me realize that Sooah didn’t just want a baby.....she wanted a baby with me. She saw me as a father. As someone who could raise and nurture a tiny human and that... that’s amazing isn’t it?” He sighed, staring at me.

He looked beautiful, I thought with an ache deep inside me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life and it seemed almost too good to be true. That he was here, at reach. So close. I wondered if this was it. This had to be a sign. A sign that we’d come full circle. That it was over. That we could finally break free from all that we’d been through, and look back at Jungkook’s past with fondness instead of pain.

And perhaps, just perhaps I could reach out and touch him with something more than just the love you have for a friend. . Perhaps I could reach out and touch him, without feeling guilt and foreboding.

I exhaled shakily stepping up and running my fingers over the canvas. It was nothing fancy... Just a painting a painting of Jungkook holding Mina up by her waist, high over his head, staring up into her face with all the love and adoration in the world, The child in the painting doesn’t look exactly like Mina, of course, but I’d had no idea , seeing as Sooah had commissioned the painting when she was pregnant. But Jungkook.... Jungkook looked exactly like he did now : Happy and at peace.

“You’re alright, then?” I asked quietly , a wealth of meaning behind the words and he smiled , nodding gently.

“I’m fine…” He whispered , “ And I’m so glad I can tell you that, like this. Thank you for coming , Heejin-ah . I know you owe me nothing but.. I wanted to show you that… it wasn’t all bad you know. What we went through… Something good did come out of it.” He whispered.

I choked out a sob.

“I lied.” I whispered. “ I did miss you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened.

“I have a lot to be sorry for. But I don’t want to remind you of those things. I just want you to know that… I understand what you went through…those six months. I understand that it was difficult and painful and i… I’m grateful that you didn’t give up on me. And I’m grateful that you stayed in my life. Because I know I didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserve to be loved Jungkook.” I said quietly. “ Its not wrong to move on. You deserve to… find happiness again.”

He stared at me, his gaze soft and gentle.

“I can almost believe it, when you say it that way.” He laughed. “ And… you know… I’m not sure if its love. But there’s someone I’ve been…. Well, I can sort of see myself with her. .” He grinned a little, smile boyish as he ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Wait… was he going to?....

“ I met her at Taehyung’s practice, a year ago. Her name is Lee Hyorin.” Jungkook looked at me, doe eyes shining with excitement.

And just like that the world ended.

Or so it felt.

It was like being dipped in icy cold water, the shock of it rendering me speechless, lips parted and breath catching in lungs.

Blood rushed through my ears, so fast that I felt lightheaded, my legs nearly giving out. White noise filled my skull, pain lancing sharp through my heart like a thousand paper cuts, and I couldn’t really breathe. It took a few seconds…. For my heart to catch up with what my mind had just processed. And when it finally did, the pain was so excruciating, I had to clench my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm to ground myself.

“She’s an alpha…and she lost her husband around the same time Sooah passed..” Jungkook gave me a soft smile. “ She’s actually a curator at one of the museums here. She’s the one who made all the arrangements for me to move here to Florence. ”

“Wow… That’s…” devastating,. “ That’s good news. Jungkook.. I.. How long…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow. “ How long have you guys been dating?”

“About three months now. We’re taking it very slow, because we aren’t really ready. She has a son too. He’s three years old. Mina loves him so that’s a plus.” He laughed.

My lungs constricted, breathing difficult and my head swam because ….. what. Realization set in so quickly, I was left reeling. I was in love with this bastard, I thought miserably. So in love with him that it felt like he was shredding my heart into ribbons. Every word of his mouth felt like a sharp deep stab, straight through the center of my heart and the pulsing, beating organ was on the verge of giving out.

“She’s going to be there at the dinner tonight at the Festival. She’s one of the organizers by the way. She’s kind of the reason I got in, I think.” He laughed , looking abashed and what a load of bull that was. Jungkook was successful and well known. Superbly talented at his chosen field. She was lucky to have him.

How can she have him when I’m the one who fixed him? How is that fucking fair?

“She really understands the things I’ve been going through, the past few months and because we both still attend therapy with Taehyung, we’re able to talk about a lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t share with others…” Jungkook was saying and I tuned him out, not wanting to hear another word.

I swallowed, choking on bile. I could feel sweat gathering on my scalp, my skin clammy and damp , the air between us shifting into something poisonous and filled with so much dismay, it was a miracle he hadn’t picked up on it.

Couldn’t he sense how distressed I was? Couldn’t he see how his words were hurting? Couldn’t he fucking see that I couldn’t live without him? Why on earth couldn’t he see me the way he apparently saw every other woman on the damn planet…..

Because he’s a shitty Alpha, I thought miserably, willing myself not to burst into tears. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha back then and he’s the same now.

A low, distressed cry began somewhere behind him and he jumped.

“Oh, shit she’s up… come on, Heejin.” He said with a bright smile, turning around and rushing down a small hallway and I willed myself to breathe in deeply, reminding myself that this wasn’t the end of the world. I could get through this. Besides, it was Mina.

Beautiful, perfect Mina who had been there for me. She would see me and she would give me that sweet gummy smile of hers, does eyes twinkling and I would get through this. Because her smile was what was important. Her smile and her joy and her happiness.

The sobbing had slowed down to small hiccups and I stepped past the threshold cautiously, watching as Jungkook bent over the large crib, carefully lifting her out and into his arms. She looked breathtaking, an absolutely gorgeous little girl . I stared, mesmerized as I stepped closer. My arms ached, and my chest tightened. Lips wobbling, I exhaled sharply, moving to reach for her.

She turned to glance at me and just as my fingers brushed her cheek, she recoiled.

Hard.

A loud wail tore through her tiny body and I felt my eyes go wide. Her casual little cry had turned into a sobbing , loud wail and I could smell the distress in her , the fear and distrust as she curled away from me. Jungkook looked stunned as well, instinctively drawing her close and embracing her, moving away from me because….

Because I was the reason, she was distressed.

My skin went ice cold at the revelation and I stumbled back, stunned.

“I… I’m sorry.” I choked out, confused and disoriented. Jungkook looked stricken, gently rocking her back and forth and she clung to him, gripping his shirt and I bit my lips, moving further back and I glanced at him, my heart shattering.

“She’s …She’s still sleepy… She doesn’t do well with strangers…” He said softly, looking upset, “ Maybe you could…wait outside…”

Stranger…. Was that what I was?

“I… I’ll go. I’ll just go.” I turned on my heel, rushing out of the door and struggling to breathe in air, my heart clenching so hard I was sure I was going to pass out. I felt my knees give out when I reached the couch, dropping down and drawing my knees up , wrapping my arms around my legs . I didn’t know how long I sat there, fighting sobs and choking on air…and when I finally came to myself, the sobs from the room had died out.

“She’s fallen asleep again.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence and I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I felt him move closer, felt his scent hit me as he stepped right up to me, kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I looked up at him, lips wobbling as I took in his handsome face. A face that was so deeply carved into my heart and my soul, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him. The tears came then, helpless and endless and so painful.

He pressed in closer, cupping my face in his palms, thumb brushing the tears that spilled over so relentlessly.

“Heejin…” He whispered and I let my fingers curl around his wrist as his thumb kept brushing the curve of my cheeks. I took a deep , shaky breath .

“She doesn’t remember me…. “ I whispered, “ She doesn’t recognize me at all…She hates me……” I choked out , despair filling every last crevice of my insides, gut twisting as I remembered how Mina had twisted away from me, how her scent had soured in distress at the sight of me, at the touch of my fingers.

And I wondered if it was different with this other woman..Hyorin, wasn’t it? Did Mina climb into her arms with ease? Did she curl into her chest and sleep? The way she used to with me, when she was a month old and missing the warmth of a mother.. ….

All those nights spent in that tiny nursery, lying on the cold unforgiving floor, watching the rise and fall of Mina’s chest through the dark room…telling myself it was worth it… it was worth being touched against my will, worth being treated like filth by a man driven mad with grief and anger….all because of this baby…this tiny little baby who had needed me….

And now…she didn’t even know who I was…..worse…she was repulsed by the very sight of me… I couldn’t cope.

“Look at me…” Jungkook rasped, voice raw and cracking. “she doesn’t hate you, Heejin… she just … you feel new to her… different…”

I shook my head, unable to think about anything beyond the sheer devastation that filled me, the way his daughter had pulled away and run, had refused to come anywhere near me. I realized with lancing pain that I’d wanted to see her, way more than I’d wanted to see Jungkook .

Because she was the reason I’d hung on for so long in that marriage which had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life…. the only reason I’d stuck around . Mina …Having her in my arms, her scent against my face, that had been the only genuine happiness I’d experienced in a marriage filled with sheer , unending misery.

“I… she… Why doesn’t she remember? “ I breathed, sagging into his arms, tears soaking his shoulders and his palm ran up and down my back.

“Because she was a baby. Heejin…. I left when she was a baby…”

“Why did you?” I snapped. “ Did it hurt you so much? The thought of living under the same sky as me ? Why you did you go?” I demanded.

Jungkook pulled back, hands coming up to grip my shoulder, holding me at arms length.

“Look at me.” He whispered. “ I had to … You know I had to go….I was hurting you. I was… I was draining you of life. Destroying you… “

Jungkook’s words reminded me of who he was. Of who I was… Of who I was to him.

I choked out, sobbing.

“I hate you. You treated me like scum. Like a crutch….. Like some sort of tool to get better and you just left… you…”

You found someone better. You broke me down and now you’ve gone and found someone better….because I was never good enough for you… I was never someone you could love….

“I had to let you go. I had to end that relationship because it was tainted with so much grief and anger and selfishness and greed. I knew that anything I did afterwards would be tainted by my actions… I… I had to make amends, Heejin. And do you think for a second, that it wasn’t the hardest thing I ever did? That walking out on you wasn’t one of the most devastating things I’ve ever experienced? But I did it for us… for this…”

I stared at him.

“And what is this?” I asked brokenly.

“This is me, being able to touch you like this.” Jungkook pressed a palm to my cheek, “ And not feeling guilt or sadness or grief or loss. I did it so we could have this…this… This thing where I can look at you and hold you and see that you’re healing. That you’re doing better… That you’re living the life you want…. That you’re happy. This is me standing here , in front of you and smiling because I’m happy too. Happy that you’re here. ” He exhaled, “ I’m happy that despite all the hurt we’ve been through for and because of each other, I can look at you now and tell you, honestly, that I’m glad to see you.”

What a joke.. What a fucking joke.

I smiled shakily.

“Well… “ I said softly, my stomach churning because I was done. Done with him and mostly with myself. “ Isn’t that absolutely wonderful.”

His gaze softened and he smiled.

“I want us to be friends, Heejinah. Even though we don’t see or talk to each other, I think of you often. And when Mina’s old enough to understand , I’ll tell her all about you… I want you in our lives. You’re a friend. ”

I stared at him , feeling the words echo in my skull . It left an acrid taste on my senses, the way he put me into this neat little box, friend. So ….insignificant. Everyone had hundreds of friends. There was nothing even remotely special about being someone’s friend.

Friend just meant replaceable and forgettable. And just like Mina didn’t remember me…. Someday Jungkook wouldn’t either. The knowledge filled my veins spreading all over my body and leaving a fierce, heavy ache in my chest.

It was my fault, I thought despondently. My fault because I had been an idiot.

Jungkook was the sane one here , I thought miserably. These nine months, while I’d been dwelling on him and worrying for him…he had done the healthy thing , by moving on with someone he could actually envision a future with….

What had I done, these past nine months? Dreamt up a fantasy world where somehow we found our way back to each other and built a life together… It seemed so foolish now, in the light of Jungkook’s words and his confession….

Jungkook had done all of this, not for me…but for himself. For his daughter whom he loved and for his wife , whose memory he wanted to honor. And perhaps it was my own delusion that made me think that I’d played some stellar role in his healing…. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, he would have gotten better just the same…. Maybe I hadn’t been a tool …as much as a hindrance …to his healing.

I shook my head, bitterness coating my tongue.

“I should get going.” I whispered , voice shaking.

This is it, I told myself. This is the last time you look at him with that heaviness in your heart. You deserve better. You deserve… a lot of things. And just because people don’t give it to you doesn’t mean you have to settle for less……

“So soon? Hyorin will be back in a couple of hours… I could show you some of my work, and we could get lunch ….”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to meet her in his home. Didn’t want to see him being domestic and affectionate and …normal with her when all I’d ever seen was Jungkook in his anger and grief, either yelling abuses or gripping me with a lust that was tainted with violence and rage. I stared at his hands, the ones I’d liked holding….

How did I forget? That those were the same hands that had held me down and done things that should, rightfully have landed him in prison?

I shook my head, to clear the images out of my head. Looking at him now, Jungkook looked eager, happy and healed. And I realized that he’d just pushed all of his own actions out of his mind. Forgotten all about it. And that was fair. He probably didn’t even remember any of it. He had been drunk out of his mind, lost in his head and surely, forgetting must’ve been easy… A relief.

I didn’t begrudge him that.

But…

I hadn’t been drunk. I’d been stone cold sober under him on that bed and so, maybe forgetting didn’t come that easily for me. And I was glad that Jungkook could move on and be happy but….

But I couldn’t stay here and pretend that it was the same for me. I wasn’t happy or healed, I thought miserably. And maybe , maybe the sight of him moving on was a sign that I had to stop thinking that healing meant going back to him and his daughter.

“Heejin… What’s wrong? Is it because of Mina.. she’s just not used to…” He began but I quickly pressed a palm to his chest, smiling.

“Strangers.” I said softly. “ I know. That’s not it… You know I have to introduce my exhibit at dinner tonight. I don’t know what the itinerary is or what I’m supposed to say…. None of it.. I need to meet my agent and prep myself a bit. Its alright…I’ll see you tonight.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry… I can’t walk you back because Mina-“

“Of course. Don’t worry about it…. I’ll just…”

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“Jungkook!” A strong voice called out and I went still.

“Hyorin?” Jungkook’s face lit up and I felt my stomach churn. God, the universe really was against me wasn’t it? Sighing in defeat, I wrapped my arms around myself, sitting back down on the couch and waiting.

Behind me , I could hear hushed whispers, soft laughter and shuffling feet. My mouth went dry.

“Ms. Kim….”

I turned around, greeted by the sight of a tall, strapping young woman, pretty by any standards. She was dressed in a pant suit , her hair long and straight, hitting the top of her shoulders. She looked smart… Important.

“Ms. Lee… Its nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and I shook it gently. Jungkook smiled at her fondly and his phone rang from somewhere inside the studio.

“Hang on that’s probably Soeun…” He smiled at me and moved away and I watched him leave before shifting my gaze to Hyorin, who was staring down at me with a small smile.

“Are you here in Italy by yourself? Or with one of your many …uh… patrons ?” She smirked.

I blinked.

“Patrons?” I asked softly. “ Excuse me?”

“Jungkook and I’ve been following all the stories about you, back in Korea. You get around quite a lot… don’t you? Every alpha within a 100 mile radius wants a piece of the lovely Kim Heejin… And honestly, could anyone blame them? You look exquisite.”

I stared at her, stunned. The implication was so obvious that I would be an idiot not to realize what she was hinting at. So this was the woman , Jungkook chose? Yet another prejudiced bigot?

I laughed a bit, feeling my heart sink.

“I’m not seeing anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.” I said quietly.

Hyorin smirked at that.

“Of course you aren’t… We all know that isn’t really something your kind does… monogamy, right?”

“Do you have a problem with me Hyorin ssi?” I asked roughly and she laughed.

“Oh come on.. we’re all adults, here. And Heejin, you agreed to be a part of this festival, knowing full well, that’s what we think . Its because deep down you know I’m right….. Omegas can’t stay with one alpha. They need sex to survive and they are usually open to it with anyone. Not that I’m blaming you or judging you for it. It’s just how you’re built.”

I smiled wide, ignoring the urge to claw at her face. .

“Well, you’ve definitely got me all figured out haven’t you? “ I shook my head, glancing at Jungkook who was making his way over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and I smiled, glancing at her.

“ Hyorin ssi was just telling me how my sub gender makes it impossible for me to not go around whoring with every alpha I see…….” I glanced at him and Jungkook straightened, looking stunned, “ Well, I hope you two enjoy your beautiful monogamous relationship with each other something an omega like me can only fantasize about…. Right Jungkook?” I smiled and he looked completely lost.

“Wait…What? Hyorin what did you say?” He demanded and she was glaring at me now.

“Please don’t take it personally, I was only talking about omegas in general. “ Hyorin frowned, before bowing and moving away to stalk off in the direction of the bedrooms and I watched her, feeling dirty and terrible.

“Heejin, ignore her.. she’s just old fashioned and-“

“Is that what you’re going to call it?” I snapped and Jungkook froze.

“Heejin…”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m not upset about what she said. I’m upset that she feels comfortable enough, spouting that bullshit to me , in your house. Makes me wonder what else she’s told you about omegas, and how much of it you probably agreed with.”

Jungkook stared at me , lips parted.

“I… I don’t feel that way. You know that.” He said stiltedly.

“Do I? All I know is that she knows about me, about who I am and apparently, she can call me a slut…. In front of you, without worrying about it upsetting you. And that tells me you’re as much of a bigot as she is.”

“Heejin… You know that’s not it. We all grow up being fed certain things and –“

“But you did grow up right?” I snapped. “ you grew up and you can think and act for yourself. As can she. Once you’re an adult, you don’t have a single fucking excuse for being racist or homophobic or bigoted because being an adult means having the ability to unlearn the toxic things you’ve been taught and relearn how to be a decent fucking human.”

I shook my head as he stared at me.

“And you know what…please just… just don’t call me or consider me as a friend.” I laughed. “ Because I don’t think I can consider you one. Not anymore. You can’t…...You can’t just love certain parts of me and be disgusted by others you know? I don’t need a friend who can care about me and love me and help me as long as he can forget that I’m an omega….. I need a friend who can love every jagged, broken , part of me. Who can call out people who talk bullshit at me , who can look someone in the eye and tell them they’re wrong when they’re calling me names and that’s not who you are……. You’re not it.” I snapped.

Jungkook looked stricken, reaching out to hold me and I stepped away, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Heejin, you’re right … I’ll talk to her… I’ll…” He began but I shook my head.

“Whatever. Just don’t call me a friend. We can’t be friends. Let’s just be what we always were , yeah? A big fucking mistake that never should have happened.”

I stormed out of the door, shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, there are no flights available for today?” I snapped. “Tell them money isn’t an issue. I need to get out of this place right now.”

Minho looked incredibly stricken, hair messy from how often he’d run his fingers through.

“ We just arrived seven hours ago, Hee. Of course there’s no flight yet…. We can stay another day…attend the dinner and-“

“No.” I snapped. “ Absolutely not. I’m not here because they find my art good or worth putting up. I’m here because they know the alphas around here will want to pay more , to pour in more cash for a chance with me.” I held the embossed booklet up, waving it in his face.

“Heejin…” He protested but I shook my head.

“ Did you see the cost to get into my pane ?. Extra ….for alphas? And yet…apparently they had to pre book it and its filled? You think any of the lecherous bastards who paid money to see me , gives a shit about my art? And apparently, there’s a meet and greet, for alphas only if they purchase seven or more paintings worth over 10000 Euros. Do you think, that’s what I’m worth?”

Minho looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

“I .. I’m sorry, Hee. You’re right. Its offensive . And an insult to your art and talent. We shouldn’t have come here, you’re right. And I regret it… But just… give me a few hours, yeah? I’ll find a way to get us out of here….”

I exhaled sharply, exhaustion weighing heavy on my head. I felt like I’d taken a pounding, physically and mentally and I wondered how a day that had started so well, could go so wrong, so fast…

Shaking my head, I trudged wearily to the elevator, knocking on the buttons before sagging against the wall, letting my eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook was dating.

Jungkook was dating. His girlfriend thought I was a slut and here I was about to prove her right.

I wanted to slit someone’s throat.

Sighing, I watched the door slide open, grabbing my keys out of my bag, and moving to the suite. I opened the door before making a beeline for the bed. I collapsed on the soft duvet, groaning. I was torn between wanting to call Taehyung to yell at him about Jungkook and calling Minho to demand an update on the flights.

I was spared the dilemma when the phone in the room rang. Groaning, I moved to swat at the phone, turning on the speaker.

“Ms. Kim? There’s a Mr. Jeon here to see you?”

I blinked, feeling disbelief swell inside me. Did he not get the hint?

Annoyed, I sat up.

“Send him up.” I said, in no mood to go all the way down to see him.

“Up?” She sounded surprised, “ To your room?”

“Yes. To my room. Is that a fucking problem?” I growled, annoyed.

“Not at all Ms. Kim. He’ll be right up.”

I got out of bed, shrugging off my jacket and taking off my dress as well. It was a little damp because I’d sweated through the fabric. I grabbed one of my oversized t shirts , slipping it on and moving to open the door before retreating back to the inner room. Feeling annoyed, I walked up to the vanity and grabbed the hair brush, running the bristles through my locks. I heard his footsteps outside and stiffened.

“If you’re here to defend your shitty girlfriend, you can just leave Jungkook. I swear to God, I’ve had enough of this.” I shouted. He didn’t reply and my hackles rose.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I said something harsh-“ I froze when I reached the doorway, staring at the man in front of me. He had a large , almost humongous bouquet of wild orchids and roses in his hand and I stared at his face.

This was definitely not Jungkook.

“Umm… hi.” The man bowed awkwardly, his gaze going straight to my legs, where my t shirt ended, just a couple of inches past my waist. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Who are you…Get out !!!” I shouted, horrified, diving for my jacket and holding it up against my bare thighs. The man held both his hands up, eyes wide..

“I’m sorry… I… you said I could come up to your room….” He protested and I scowled, confused.

“What? “ I stared, stunned… “ Who…what?”

“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I’m uh….one of the sponsors for this festival. And a fan. Huge fan.” He was staring at me beseechingly and I felt my head begin to throb.

The sheer relentlessness of this day…..

“I… Mr. Jeon…” So weird, God, “ There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not…. I thought you were someone else.”

“Jungkook yes…your ex husband, right? You were married to him for six months after he lost his wife….. He’s also one of the artists exhibiting their work here.” He nodded quickly, running long fingers through thick glossy hair, lips parting in a hesitant smile and I stared at him.

“How do you know all that? ” I demanded, heart pounding. He immediately held his hands up again.

“I’m sorry… I sound like a stalker, shit. But Trust me I’m not. I just am a huge fan.. I looked up some stuff about you….before.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly, finally looking up at me.

I tried to catch his scent. No scent to speak of. A beta then. Relaxing just a bit, I swallowed. At least I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But still, I had no intention of letting him see me in nothing but a t shirt. Embarrassed, I gripped the jacket tighter.

“Why are you here?” I demanded angrily, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look like a hoodlum or someone dangerous. He was good looking, dressed in a white t shirt and black Jacket over plain black slacks. His shoes looked expensive and I didn’t miss the shiny Rolex on his wrist either,.

“Well, for one thing I own the Hotel.” He chuckled and that made my stomach turn. “And also like I said, I’m one of the main sponsors for the Festival itself.”

“Right.” I was too disoriented to process this, head throbbing. “Of course. Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I was downstairs…just now… I couldn’t help but overhear you with your agent. You wanted to leave as soon as possible. To pull out of the event and I’m just here to try and change your mind, Ms. Kim.” He smiled earnestly and I realized he was really quite young.

I sighed.

“Could you… Could you wait outside? I want to put some clothes on before we talk any further.” I said tiredly and he bowed quickly.

“Uh… These…I’ll just leave these here.” He placed the large bunch of flowers on the table before quickly leaving the room and I swore, racing to the suitcase in the corner. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping them on hastily and zipping myself up before glancing at the mirror again. This would have to do.

I moved to the door and opened it, finding him right there, looking lost.

“I… come in, please.” I said hesitantly and he bowed again, moving in and waiting for me to close the door and take a seat on the couch, before sinking into an arm chair across from me.

“Did you see the itinerary? It doesn’t get more sexualized than this.” I waved the booklet and he flushed.

“I understand you’re upset about … certain things. I’m sorry that you feel objectified , in the festival. It wasn’t the intention I had when I first told Hyorin and the others that I wanted them to invite you. But , I’ve been busy the past month, and I didn’t go over the complete agenda. If I did, I definitely would have made sure that you were treated with just as much respect as the others. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do now, but I’ve had a word with all of the panelists and also the hosts. We won’t entertain any question or comments of a sexual nature and if anyone tries to insinuate anything , I’ll have them removed from the panel myself. “ He said firmly.

“I’m only here because you told me you would exhibit my mother’s works too.” I said sharply and he bowed.

“ Your mother’s works are just as exquisite and I’ve arranged for them to be displayed right at the center of the arena, with a running slide show of her childhood , her art technique and the great love she had for her daughter.” He said firmly.

I could only stare. He sounded incredibly sincere and there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.

“I’m….” I bit my lips, “ Listen, Mr. Jeon, I’m flattered but honestly, I never wanted to be here. I… there was … something else that made me want to come and well, that turned out to be a huge mistake. To be honest, I’m not sure if I have it in me to suffer through days of people treating me like I’m some kind of sex crazed bimbo.” I shook my head.

“how about this.? You let me be your date for tonight and you let me display your work, today at the dinner itself. I’ll be right by your side. And then, I’ll have my private jet on standby and we can fly back to Korea. You deserve the spotlight, Heejin and I want people to see how good you are at what you do. I don’t care if I lose money over this… As long as you’re comfortable. ”

I gawked at him, stunned.

“Private Jet?” I choked out. “ Okay, now I’m genuinely concerned.”

He laughed.

“I’m a Hotelier, and I have properties all over the world and I like to inspect them personally most of the time. Its more practical to have a private jet than to try and align my schedules with everyone else.” He smiled.

“Right. Convenient.” I shook my head. “ I’m no stranger to excessive wealth, Mr. Jeon and trust me, it’s always left a sour taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t flaunt my wealth, Ms. Kim. These clothes? Got them on the streets of Florence. I drive a Mazda. Wealth has no meaning to me. People do. People like you, who bring beauty into the world with their craft. You’ve made my world beautiful and I just want to repay , in some way.” He smiled, “ Also, You’re very beautiful.” He added and then immediately looked away. “ I’m sorry. That was… dumb . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Endeared against my own wishes, I found myself fighting a small smile.

“Just tonight’s dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Just the dinner party.” He assured me quickly.

“Alright. But I’m not getting into any private Jet. My agent will book me tickets and I’ll find my way back to Korea.”

“As you wish. I’ll pick you up at seven. What color is your dress?” He asked casually and I blinked.

“Uh… Wine red? I guess? Why?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome.

“I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Kim.”

He bowed, before pausing by the bouquet. He grabbed a couple of flowers, holding them up for me to see.

“Daffodils and Lilacs.” He grinned, “ To finding something new to love. And to new beginnings.”

Wow.

Subtle.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting all about Jungkook as I grinned all the way back to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I told you… coming with me will earn you major points.” Wonwoo smirked as he pulled me in by my waist , holding my dress up for me as I stared at the sleek black limousine at the Hotel entrance. I watched as he held my wrist gently, latching a string of sterling silver and red rubies around the delicate curve of it.

“This is too lavish…I don’t want this…Who are you?” I demanded, flushing because of the way the flashes went off in every direction, reporters scrambling when they caught sight of him. He was clearly popular, if the number of photos being clicked were any indication. I regretted everything.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to my wrists, right near the bracelet and gently placed my palm on the curve of his elbow, leading me over to the car and I watched the chauffeur open the door for us.

“ Someone who can get anyone here fired. Be careful , sweetheart.” I watched in mute horror as he bent low, picking up the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip, while climbing into the limousine. The reporters began whispering excitedly and more flashes went off . My face completely red, I hastened to climb in.

“These people look at you like you’re some kind of King.” I stared out of the tinted windows seeing the sheer multitude of people and Wonwoo chuckled.

“ That’s because I am. At least for tonight. And that’s why I’m the perfect guy to protect you Heejin. They’re all terrified of me.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook found me, fifteen minutes into the event. I hung by the large archway, near an alcove, sipping champagne and nibbling on some hors d’oeuvre as people threw glances at me. I noticed the conspicuous lack of a date on his arm and straightened, sighing and bracing myself for more unpleasantness as he picked his way through the crowd, eyes trained on me.

“Can we talk?” He said, the minute he was at hearing distance and I exhaled.

“No.” I said casually and he made a noise of impatience.

“Fucking, hell Heejin..just…” He swore again, looking upset. “ Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What do I want from you? Oh, fuck off Jungkook. I want nothing from you.” I snapped, turning on my heel, ready to leave but his hand shot out, gripping me right above my elbow, fingers curling in hard.

“Fuck.. listen. I don’t know what she said to you. I .. I’m sorry if she offended you…. Alright? She’s an alpha… I can’t change the way she thinks…”

“I didn’t ask you to. I merely said that if you associate yourself with people who think I’m scum, I won’t let you into my life. Because I respect myself too much for that.” I said firmly.

“She doesn’t think you’re scum, Heejin come on. She just has some misconceptions about certain things.”

“God, Jungkook…just stop. Alright? Stop. Because I’m not asking you do anything. I’m leaving on a flight tomorrow morning and you’ll never see me again. That’s all there is to it.”

He froze at that, fingers curling harder around my arm and it hurt, the skin turning red. Stupid fucker, never knew his own strength.

“Ow, Jungkook let go.” I whispered, and he did, albeit reluctantly.

I rubbed at the bruised skin, furious. I watched as the redness healed over, the pain fading to a throb and then into a pleasant heat and I hated it. Hated that being an omega meant that Jungkook’s rough touch turned to pleasure on my skin.

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow? The Festival is for two weeks.”

I sighed.

“I didn’t come here for the festival. I came here to see you. To see if you were as hung up on me as I was on you…but apparently not.” I snapped.

Jungkook went perfectly still at that.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wow. You really never even considered it huh? Us? Together.?” It wasn’t funny at all, but I could only laugh. Probably because I’d been so sure.. So certain that there was something there.

He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a warm solidness behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist and a second later, Wonwoo was there pressing up against me.

“Jungkook-ssi… Such a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out, and Jungkook frowned, his eyes trained on where wonwoo’s fingers curled around my waist.

“Get your hands off her.” He said shortly and Wonwoo blinked, pulling away from me and stepping back .

“What the-? No. Fuck you.” I snapped, glaring at Jungkook before grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and bringing it back around me. “Don’t you fucking dare take your hands off.” I held my finger up at his face and Wonwoo looked momentarily stunned.

“Really, Heejin? You’re doing this?” Jungkook glared at me. “ We need to talk.”

“So talk.” I snapped. “ Tell me why you think a bigoted bitch is the best you can do in terms of dating. Tell me why she’s the only one who can ‘ understand’ “ I made air quotes, shaking my head, “ You think you and your shitty have monopoly on grief Jungkook? I’ve lost people too. Just because I haven’t screwed other people over because of it, doesn’t make my grief invalid….yeah.”

Ringing silence followed and I regretted everything.

“Fuck.” I whispered, shaking my head. “ I .. Shit. I need to get out of here.”

I pulled away from Wonwoo, moving out of the huge ballroom and Jungkook was right behind me, of course he was.

“Heejin…fuck. Wait. You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t understand me. Of course you did. Its why you stuck around… I know that. And you’re right, she had no business talking about you like that. I’ll have a word with her… But…”

I sped up, wanting to get away but he grabbed me again, tugging me closer out of the hall way and into a darkened alcove and I flinched when he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in, as he pressed in closer.

“What did you mean by that?” He demanded, hands coming up to grip my waist, curling gently and my chest heaved at the touch of him, the enclosed space making his scent turn potent, strong and impossible to avoid. My nostril flared as I breathed him in, familiar and yet so foreign, comforting and yet so fucking dangerous.

“By what?” I snapped and his hands moved up, shaping the curves of my body , thumb grazing the tip of my breast and making me jump, before moving up, gripping my face, gently. He pressed his thumb into my lower lip, rubbing back and forth, face impossibly close and I swallowed, throat sandpaper dry.

“About us? Together….” He breathed and I exhaled shakily.

“You know what I meant.” I whispered. “ If you don’t then I can’t explain it.” I whispered and he swore, head dropping against mine, forehead resting against mine, and lips less than a hairsbreadth away.

We’ve never kissed, I thought suddenly. I licked my lips, turning my face away but his fingers gripped my chin at once, yanking me around to stare at him again.

“Look at me, baby. Tell me… You thought about us together?” He whispered .

I breathed shakily.

“Of course I did…. “ I snapped.

“Then clearly therapy isn’t working for you.” He snapped right back and I flinched.

“What-“

Jungkook pulled away staring at me.

“ Do you even remember all the shit I did to you?” He asked quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Jungkook.”

“I broke your ribs.” He said calmly. I swallowed.

“That.. That was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” I protested. “ And we’re past all that… I don’t… I don’t blame you for it.” I said, which was honest enough.

“And what about the nights I got drunk, Heejin….” He said softly and my skin went cold.

“That… That was just… It was just an outlet for your grief… “ I looked away and he scoffed.

“You’re calling it an outlet for grief. I believe the world calls it rape.”

I felt my entire body shiver at the word , moving up to wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him close but he was stiff as a board.

“ Don’t” I snapped. “ Don’t …. Its over…it’s in the past.”

“It was still me. I was the one who did it and I can’t… I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I pulled away to glare at him.

“So , what? You won’t give us a chance because of something I’ve already forgiven you for?”

“Yes.” He said shortly. “ Because you may have forgiven me, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

I felt my body sag in disbelief.

“Jungkook that’s-“

“You deserve better. You always have. I’m not… I don’t deserve someone like you Heejin. You’re kind and breathtaking and I’m just… a broken mess of a man who’s barely getting by.”

“Oh, right… So broken.” I scoffed. “ You’re on the front page of magazines, you have a successful career and a beautiful girlfriend,,,,forgive me if I’m not breaking my heart over your failures.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily before looking up at me.

“ You wanna know the truth about me, Heejin-ah?” He swallowed. “ I just got out of rehab last week.”

I went still.

“What?” I was sure I’d misheard.

“I… I came here and about a month or so in…I started drinking again…” He glanced away and my heart turned over inside me.

“Jungkook, what?” I demanded, horrified.

“I got drunk and got into an argument with a cop. I hit him. They found out I was a single father and-“ He shook his head, “ I got arrested for disorderly conduct , Public intoxication and assault.”

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

“ Arrested for assault... Jungkook why?” I breathed and he flushed.

“I know…. It was stupid.. I… I was stupid.” He said softly. “Soeun isn’t a baby sitter. She’s a social worker. She’s here to keep an eye on me because they want to make sure I’m not a threat to Mina. If I slip up, they’ll deport me back home and then the state will likely take her away from me. Soeun likes me….so she agreed to lie to you ……And as for the girlfriend…” He laughed, shaking his head, “ Hyorin broke up with me after I got arrested. We’re not… We’re not dating. She was only there to get some prints for the panel tomorrow.” He finished shakily.

I stared at him.

“Why?” I demanded . “ Why would you lie to me… Jungkook ….”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a screw up.” He said shakily. “ I know I’m supposed to be getting better and I have but… But sometimes I just…I miss…. I miss home. “ He shuddered. “ And you.” He looked up at me. “ I miss you a lot, Heejin and it hurts and I feel like the only way I can forget about you…about us together is if I drink. And I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to miss you, not after everything I put you through but I… it’s how I feel. ” He glanced away, trembling a little.

I wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away, feeling myself go cold.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, both of us staring at the floor lost in our own thoughts. I felt drained. Miserably so. Like someone had sucked all the strength out of me. I realized how badly I had wanted Jungkook to be okay. To heal and be himself again. And I’d spent the last nine months, fully convinced that he was. That he was doing what he loved, bonding with his daughter building a life for himself.

But apparently, he was also spiraling back into addiction as well.

It was like we were back in that apartment, both of us miserable but desperate to be something we clearly were not : Okay.

“Does Taehyung know?” I asked finally and Jungkook hesitated before nodding.

“He was at my court hearing three weeks ago. He’s the reason I haven’t already lost her.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?”

“He thinks I should come back to Korea.” Jungkook said quietly. “ He wants me to start therapy again with him. Every week. “

I nodded.

“Fair enough. And what do you think?”

“I think I will. My probation ends in three days. I’ll… I’ll start making arrangements afterwards. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks time. ”

I stared at him, finally seeing the things I hadn’t noticed this morning. The shadows beneath his eyes, the worry lines on his brow. I wondered if he would have ever told me the truth, if not for this little confrontation between us.

Silence descended again and I bit my lips, a million thoughts running through my head. I felt the pull of his scent through it all, an instinctive urge to reach out and touch and draw him close and I wondered if this was it. That for the rest of our lives we would just be drawn to each other, reluctant and hurt but unable to stay away.

“You’re leaving tomorrow then?” He asked quietly breaking through the fog in my head.

“Well obviously not.” I snapped. “ I’m not leaving you. I’ll tell Minho, we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Do you actually have a possible job back home? If you don’t I can ask my agent to find one for you….”

Jungkook was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“ What?” I asked roughly.

He swallowed.

“No.. I .. I don’t have a job there.”

“We’ll get you one. And my apartment is big enough so you can stay with me till we find you a place of your own. And I think it’ll actually be good for you, because there’s a Fine Art photographer, pretty well know guy who stays just a few blocks away and e can probably- “

“You haven’t really changed have you?” Jungkook cut me off in the middle of my rambling .

I flushed, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Back when we were married… it was just like this.. I’d fuck up and do something awful and you’d just take it all in stride, get ready to help me out of it….”

“I don’t know what you mean…” I said quickly, “ Let’s go back to the party we’ll talk later-“

He grabbed both my arms, pulling me back to face him when I tried to get past him and I yelped, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?” I demanded. “ What is it now?”

“How do you do this thing, Heejin ?” He asked roughly. “ How do you just get ready to clean up every fucking mess I make like it doesn’t hurt you? Like I don’t hurt you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he tugged me closer.

“How do you just…” He shook his head, “ accept me so unconditionally? Like… Its like no matter what I do, you’re just willing to look past it and I don’t fucking understand Heejin… why do you put up with me, damn it?”

I stared right at him. Caught his gaze and held it, refusing to look away.

“You know why.” I whispered, licking my lips, throat dry, “ And if you don’t…. I’m not going to tell you.”

His eyes widened , lips parting and he exhaled sharply, before letting me go and stepping away.

He looked away, shaking a little and I sighed.

“Let’s just get this night over with, yeah?” I said quietly. “ and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t reply, merely standing aside and motioning for me to leave first.

I shook my head, moving to grip his arm instead.

“Together.” I said firmly. “ We’ll get this night over with, together.”

Author’s Note : i love these two. i’ve never wanted two people to be together so much.

@taeshuworld .@girlinthemikrokosmos @xius-exos @sugainfireslex @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland @veronawrites @blr1004 @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay @squishyjk @itsdingdong @emmmui @honeeybunneey @yeonkiminnie @just-me-and-myselfs @delicate-snow-flake @kpop-lore @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld @btsmylife21 @teresaisla .@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie @ meraki–life @somewhereinthestates @mawwnsterr @kookiesbreaky @chimchoom

@namjooningelsewhere @itsdingdong @ungodlyjoon @caratarmy131

@ladyartemesia @hardggukk @iliveforjin @loveemariee

@unicornbabylover @dchimminie @nope2214 @landl7xoxo

@mrcleanheichou @kayteekat @wassup-haeyadwae @natgba @nikkiordonez12 @neverthefirstchoice @btsssssfiction

@mylittlestrangeandsweetworld @kookiesxbananamilk @lovra974 @supernoonanyc @kokoandkookie

#bts smut #bts smut fic #bts fics #bts fanfic #friends to lovers bts au #jungkook abo #jungkook smut

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eringurumi · 3 years

Text

Dusa Pattern

I got a request for a crochet pattern for my amigurumi plushie Dusa, so here it is! She is actually pretty straightforward when it comes to the crochet bits, and the hard parts are embroidering the face and shaping the hair! As always, if you use this pattern, please link back to my page, and tag me here on tumblr or @erin.gurumi on instagram! I love to see what people make!

Technical stuff:

I used a 3mm hook and these yarns:

Red Heart Super Saver in Minty (head)

Loops and Threads Impeccable in Green Lagoon (hair)

Cream (scrap yarn from a stash, similar to Red Heart Super Saver)

Red (scrap yarn from a stash, similar to Red Heart Super Saver)

Red Heart Super Saver in Medium Purple

^ Head

As I mentioned, the crochet part is pretty straight forward. The head is just one big sphere, but the part I find the most challenging is doing the embroidery

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

(1 sc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

(2 sc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches

(3 sc, inc) 6x to make 30 stitches

(4 sc, inc) 6x to make 36 stitches

(5 sc, inc) 6x to make 42 stitches

(6sc, inc) 6x to make 48 stitches

7 rows of 48 stitches

(6 sc, dec) 6x to make 42 stitches

(5 sc, dec) 6c to make 36 stitches

(4sc, dec) 6x to make 30 stitches

(3sc, dec) 6x to make 24 stitches

(ADD EYES/STUFFING AND START EMBROIDERY- see below!)

(2sc, dec) 6x to make 18 stitches

(sc, dec) 6x to make 12 stitches

dec, until closed, finish stuffing and finish off

^ After you are nearly done with the sphere (for me, I like to start when I am at the 30 or 24 stitch row), I used some yarn to embroider her eye liner (it ended up looking a bit too thick, but I was really struggling with making it look even.. I even ended up cheating a bit and using some marker... which I bet would have turned out nicer had I just used that!). Then I also added her nose and mouth - I didn’t have black embroidery thread, so I used yarn and a bit of unraveled yarn... This is probably not recommended, so if you have a better strategy please go for it!! I think this turned out a bit more skeletal than snakelike, but I did my best!

^ Hair Snakes

Making the actual tubes was very straightforward, it was the attaching them to the head which took some thinking! For simplicity’s sake, I made four tubes, one slightly thicker than the other, and all the same length. But, I imagine it’s really easy to make them a bit longer, or maybe add one more to fill in the back of the head!

Make one of:

6sc in a magic circle

sc 6x until you have a tube 12 inches (30 cm) long (stuff lightly as you go)

Make three of :

5sc in a magic circle

5sc until you have a tube 12 inches (30 cm) long (no stuffing in these ones, probably could do very light stuffing if you want)

* FOR TWO of these I added a metal armature - the stuff I had around is probably not right for making dolls, it looks like 1.2mm aluminum?

^ Ok, for the first two hair pieces, I used the empty (no metal) 5sc tube and the stuffed 6sc tube. I bent the 5sc tube into a sort of omega shape, looping around the crown of the head, touching points at the forehead, and coming down to make the bangs. The 6sc tube went behind the 5sc loop, coming down towards the cheeks and then curling back to make the front of her cute little bob! Use tons of pins and then sew in place, either with the tail of the yarn or a separate length of thread/yarn!

^ For the second two hair pieces, I used the two 5sc tubes with the metal armature in them. for the back, I sewed it behind the 6sc tube and bent the two ends to look like the snake head and tail that come from behind her head. For the second tube, I bent it into her cute snake on the top, with the bottom curled tightly to fit into the space left by the bangs-tube, and sewed it on there. I used some fabric paint to make little dots for the snake eyes!

^ Medallion, Wraps and Duster

Super simple, these were just chains that I made until they were the right length to wrap - you can mostly improvise... I think I could have made the head wraps longer, you can see they are kinda faked in the back! (Also, I experimented with a slightly larger medallion size, but ended up preferring the smaller one.)

2 small Side Wraps:

chain ~6, leaving a tail

2 long Forehead Wraps:

chain ~15, leaving a long tail

Medallion:

8 sc in magic circle, use yarn to embroider the Hades insignia

I used a candle to VERY CAREFULLY burn the fuzz off the medallion, so it would be a bit shinier. If you want to do this, please be cautious, mindful of the type of fiber your yarn is made of, and if you are little, have an adult help!

Hot glue the crisscrossed wraps and medallion together, tie all the wraps in their various places, then pull the ends inside a tube or head!

Duster: cut purple yarn into small strands, tie them tightly at one end, then hot glue the duster head to a toothpick... I’m sure there are nicer ways to make one of these, but I liked the look of the yarn!

^ The last thing I did was add her fangs and pink cheeks using a bit of felt and glue - I did this last because I figured the more I handled her with all the sewing, the more they might get messed up.

Here you can see from the back a bit better... I definitely think it could be improved by making the wraps longer and adding an extra hair tube, but overall I am happy with how she turned out!

And that is it!! She is all ready to keep Hades clean and beautiful! If you have questions please feel free to ask me! Again, if you make her, tag me here or instagram @erin.gurumi - Good luck and happy crocheting! ^_^

#amigurumi #crochet #dusa #hades #pattern #freepattern #crochetpattern #freecrochetpattern #dusahades #dusa hades #hades game #zagreus #medusa #plush #plushie #stuffie #supergiant games #supergiant hades

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1kook · 4 years

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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theveryworstthing · 3 years

Photo

it’s time for part 2 of the zodiac based Carot cards. Horn cards are horizontal instead of vertical because they’re meant to be placed above the three other suites which lay side by side. the last two suites are tentatively named the Travelers and the Island and now that i know what direction i want to take with them i’ll hopefully get through those in between work. anyway, here’s some lore.

Horn Signs

Horn signs are the second half of the rabbit/hare zodiac system. When a rabbit or hare is born they have sharp little starter horns encased in rubbery membranes that fall off soon after birth. These horns will eventually shed in a process similar to teething when they get older, but before that they’re basically baby’s first shank. A nasty natural surprise for any predator looking for an easy meal or any parent who gets too tired to keep track of the pointy bits on their child.

Your horn sign correlates to how many points your birth horns had. Again, no one takes this seriously lest people start catching their death of prophesy. But since horn points are the way that many parents initially tell kits apart in litters where they look very similar, it’s fun to joke about.

The Horn Suite

1 The Cut Worm: luck, brushes with disaster, and hope. This sign is very rare because to qualify for it you would either have a second horn so small that it’s just a bump on the skull under the skin, or you wouldn’t be born with a second horn at all. While the odd super stubby horn shows up once in a blue moon, missing either horn completely is a sign that the kit is missing pieces of skull, which makes this birth defect life threatening at best.

Some see the Worm as the simple ‘dodged a bullet’ sign and think of it as a totally positive symbol of natural good luck/perseverance. And it can be! But dodging a bullet still means you had to get shot at in the first place, and it doesn’t mean other less fatal bullets don’t hit. Bullets have a tendency to travel in packs. This makes the Worm a complicated sign. It is scars and struggle and survivor’s guilt, but also joy and absolute cussedness when it comes to comes to life. If the universe wants them dead then it can come over and do it itself. Oooh~ you gonna let biology try to do your dirty work? Fuckin’ coward.

2 The Message: curiosity, knowledge, and questions about yourself. Message signs are very introspective. And outrospective. Just spective all over really. What are you willing to do to obtain knowledge? How free you are with information in general? Do you keep all thoughts to yourself? Do you gossip constantly? How good are you at reining in your curiosity? Would it literally kill you to mind your own business?

3 The Sea Hare: seeking and accepting the truth no matter how weird. These signs are believers, dreamers, and realists all at once. The vaguest sign. Weird things always seem to happen to them. Or maybe it’s not that weird things are always happening to them but that they notice and accept the weird things that happen to everyone else as real instead of brushing it off as dreams or tricks of the light. They hate liars or people who embellish facts for whatever reason because they believe that truth is always stranger and more interesting than fiction.

4 The Cocoon: change and liminality. The world is an ever shifting mess and Cocoon signs are more apt to revel in and pay attention to the strange in between spaces. These rabbits are always on journeys. Physical, intellectual, spiritual, whatever, what many would consider destinations end up be rest stops for them before they wander back into the liminal spaces that call to them.

5 The Pepper: navigating risk for personal pleasure. Will this plant get you super high or kill you? Is this person dangerous or just exciting? Are the odds in your favor? Let’s find out. Pepper signs are willing to at least entertain the ideas for a lot of risky business if they think something wonderful can come from it. The ‘take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!’ sign. Their level of common sense usually determines life expectancy (which is true for all creatures but ESPECIALLY these rabbits good lord).

6 The Fungi: personal relationships and connection. Fungi signs are always seeking real connection. If they like you and you show them love and or respect they’re ride or die for you. Good at reading people and figuring out what makes them tick, they can either be the important connective tissue in any community or manipulators who can woo anyone to their side. Depends on how much of an asshole they are.

7 The Hawk Pyre: healing and cycles. When a hawk dies, it burns and burns until there’s nothing but ash and a tiny egg. Rabbits believe this cycle happens endlessly, that the same hawks have had endless lives in endless cycles since hawks turned up in the world. Rabbits under the Hawk sign are very in tune with the cycles of the world. The cycle of seasons, aging, crops, mistakes, fashion, abuse, ect, it’s all patterns. Patterns that they’re good at spotting, flowing with, and breaking. Need someone to help you get your life back together after a tragedy or give pretty good weather forecasts? Ask a Hawk sign! Or don’t, because none of this is real.

8 The Lantern: knowing what is actually worth spending time being worried about. Not everything in the dark is a monster, but that doesn’t mean warning signs are to be ignored. Lantern signs are good at reading situations, especially when it comes to danger and opportunity. They’re good advisers and listeners, able to make connections easily and take many things into consideration at once. Rabbits joke that good warren leaders are usually Lanterns and shitty ones have had their candles blown out long ago.

The Void (2 of these): either something is horribly wrong or everything is fine. I don’t have to explain which card means what, that’s obvious right? Right?

#rabbits of downtrodden #carot cards #the horn suite #long post

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yeolmae-s · 3 years

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a chanbaek analysis from a veteran exo-l (part 2)

CLICK HERE TO READ PART ONE

Writing this was a bit harder in comparison to the first part, because I wanted to organize things into a neat timeline, but I ended up not having enough patience for it lol specially because both of ChanBaek's main archive blogs seem to have deleted their pages documenting each date of EXO's early years. Therefore I apologize in advance if this part is a bit more messy. Also, please don't forget that all of this is my opinion and I don't mean for any of it to be taken as truth!

I kind of want to jump from MAMA era directly into Wolf era, since we don't really have a lot of cover regarding their debut phase besides Chanyeol's overeagerness and Baekhyun's awkwardness towards it, so to sum it up, I felt as if Chanyeol was more confident and consistent on what he thought an idol should act like, while Baekhyun (sweet, innocent Baekhyun who was a trainee for less than a year!) was still unsure on how to act on camera.

On the few early variety shows/interviews EXO appeared on, the members always pointed out how funny Baekhyun was, how good he'd be at variety and at doing imitations, but he never really lived up to all the praise on camera, although off of it, he most likely was as good as his members claimed.

He was a bit stiff on his early days in comparison to what we see today, and that's normal, I guess, since he debuted really quickly, but when you compare him to Chanyeol the contrast is so interesting, because the latter was able to latch on to a persona as soon as the public gave him one, while to me, Baekhyun was still doubtful regarding what to put on display. In the end, deep inside, Baekhyun is a private person, and was even more so when he wasn't confident enough to talk to fans like he does today.

Once again, I’m sorry for not being able to upload the gifs directly into the post, so I’ll just link them like I did on my last one.

This is another one of the moments where Baek appears to tell Chanyeol to just. Hold on for a bit.

There's another one similar to this where Chanyeol does the same thing (try to whisper on Baekhyun's ear) and Baekhyun fake laughs and stares at a fan's camera right after. Then, his expression just goes blank. It's really interesting to watch because you can just see the gears spinning on Chanyeol's brain as he stares at Baekhyun for a second and clearly thinks alright, fanservice time, and leans in to whisper something: it happens so fast you just know it wasn't genuine whispering, just a playful interaction for the fans, and Baekhyun's direct stare to the camera as soon as it happens just confirms this for me.

1: Chanyeol spots his target.

2: He’s really thinking this through.

3: Baek's in a perfect position for whispering-time, so he leans in and does his thing.

4: Baekhyun laughs.

5: And stares directly at a fan's camera.

6: Immediately regrets his life choices. Chanyeol looks pleased.

It's actually better to watch the whole thing, so I'll leave it here. (starts on 0:28!)

(Random note: on this date EXO perfomed a cover of H.O.T's We Are The Future, and I feel like a lot of new EXO-Ls have not seem it and I adore this performance, so I'll link it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1-z4s3fdgo)

Now let's jump on to Wolf era, shall we?

Wolf era

I can't help but laugh when I think about how wild 2013 was for both EXO and EXO-Ls. They had their first hit song (which was Growl, not Wolf) the fandom grew considerably, shippers where just discovering the cute ISAC moments between "BaekYeol" and "HunHan"... Or at least that's how everyone remembers most of what happened during that year.

Are we forgetting the rumoured ChanBaek fight?

Considering their past interactions on airports, SMTOWN concerts, ISAC and other events, ChanBaek was now widely known to be close to each other. Baekhyun even said Chanyeol was the one who made him open up, and both of them mentioned feeling this "connection" to each other as soon as they met (although jokingly).

After Mama, the fandom was content-less for a considerable period of time, and what most people did was sharing around old performances and repeat overused memes. I think that in every fandom there is a period where fans establish their main inside jokes and basically just get together to create a collective line of thought for perceiving their idols. That being said, one of the most well established facts in the fandom was that Chanyeol and Baekhyun were close. That was a fact.But then Wolf came, and they suddenly were not.

This gif is a good example of how awkward their interactions were. Not even my delusional shipping brain in 2013 was able to come up with an explanation for it.

They simply did not acknowledge each other at all, and Chanyeol appeared to be closer to Kyungsoo (I think Baekhyun interacted a lot with Tao, but that may have been during the Growl era, not Wolf. As I said before, I'm a Chanyeol stan guys, sorry lmao).

Point is, these two boys who seemed to be best friends suddenly were clearly distant from one another.

What added fuel to the fire of the rumours was their appearance on Sukira, a radio show, where Sehun cried because the members sometimes had fights. Here's a fanacc:

[130530] EXO at Sukira

Sehun cried because the members sometimes fight.

Sehun: "Let's be loyal to each other, don't fight, and go until the end"

D.O: "We've been under a lot of stress lately because of the comeback, so I wish we won't fight in the future and do our best"

Here's a video cut of this part of their interview.

I think this ask on lets-talk-baekyeol, a popular ChanBaek analysis blog from back in the day, shows how curious a lot of fans were.

What happened back then?

There's really no answer for that. On my opinion, not even Chanyeol or Baekhyun could give us a concrete answer on it, because I don't think an actual fight happened. For me, it was most likely a personality clash, a disagreement that probably wasn't even voiced out loud, just both of them noticing how uncomfortable things got, if Baekhyun's reactions to Chanyeol's fanservice is any indication. I somehow doubt there was a specific episode that created this distance between them, specially because during Growl, they went back to being friends, although not as touchy on camera as before, as if one of them had established their limits (oh, I wonder who!), but I still have this feeling that all of this was unspoken, because unspoken things seem to be a pattern on ChanBaek's relationship (something I'll touch on later, hopefully).

But it was during Growl era that I noticed something else about Baekhyun.

Wolf era

EXO'S Showtime was a such a gift. I recommend reading lets-talk-baekyeol's blog for this. I don't really agree with everything they say they do present a lot of relevant points. I may repeat them here, since I noticed them myself as well, but credits for them nonetheless.

I remember finding the lack of ChanBaek interactions during the episodes really dissappointing, but considering the Wolf Era drought, this was better than nothing.

My 13 year old self was devastated when Baekhyun appeared so quiet during Chanyeol's birthday episode, and during a recent rewatch of it, I think realized why.

Baekhyun doesn't like superficial things. It's not that Chanyeol is insincere, but he's just better than Baekhyun is at handling people pleasing, even when he doesn't really mean what's he saying/doing. The Chanyeol birthday episode was heavily centered on Chanyeol's random admiration for Kai, which I think we can all agree that it was a little bit scripted or a really spur of the moment thing that they just ran along with and oh man. Baekhyun did not want to be part of it.

During ChanKai's hug, this is what he looked like on the background, and the poor boy even refused to eat cake. He's just in the back, which is weird, because he's such a talkative person and Chanyeol is one of his closest friends. The only moment where he seems to be genuinely comfortable is when Chanyeol blows the candle and it's really cute. To me, it seems that he was kind of embarrassed to witness so much acting from everyone else and was unable to participate because he struggles with things like this, but the moment Chanyeol blows his candles to comemorate his birthday seems sincere enough for him to fondly smile.

This ties in so well with everything from Mama Era. He's just unable to keep acting/people pleasing on the same easy way that Chanyeol does, but this time he's not as nervous about it as he was on his earlier-early days, where he probably felt pressured to actually do stuff. Now he just doesn't do **it, he just doesn't do something that he dislikes doing, and that sadly creates a distance between them on camera and probably on a deeper level in their relationship as well, because both are just realizing how different their perceptions over their jobs is.

There's also this moment that the mods on lets-talk-baekyeol pointed out.

On the Christmas episode, when the members leave the couch to go get their presents, Chanyeol stays seated while Baekhyun gets up to fetch his. This is the sitting arrangement before (almost) everyone got up:

But when Baekhyun comes back, there's free space next to Chanyeol, however he's hesitant to sit by his side. He actually hesitates and doesn't sit down. Jongdae even gives him a little push right after.

Baek just seems hesitant to do things on camera, to interact with Chanyeol in front of an audience. For this moment, I feel like he's afraid to sit next to Chanyeol and end up having to over act. It's not that Chanyeol himself makes him uncomfortable, but the image of the friendship that they ended up creating for fans demands a lot from him.

And when I say hesitant to do things on camera, I really do mean it, because when Baekhyun thinks he is not being recorded/seen, here's what he does:

Here and here.

Their relationship clearly changed, and I think the reason for it is actually simple: both of them were under the impression that they were compatible with each other when they actually were not. Their personalities are extremely different, even if the way they present themselves is sometimes similar. Wolf and Growl era was our way, as fans, of watching them navigate around each other and finding out how their relationship was supposed to work.

And you know what's nice about that? The members watched all of it unfold. Their reactions to some of ChanBaek's interaction is a gold mine when it comes to analyzing them, because they clearly know, just as we do, that their relationship is kind of complicated. But I want to talk about it on the next part.

I am sorry for cutting this off again! I don't know if the next part is going to be the last, because after Growl there's Overdose and we all know what happened on 2014 [coughs] dating scandal [coughs] god help me I don't want to talk about it [coughs] so there's a lot to uncover and I need time to organize stuff.

Thank you for reading!

#chanbaek #baekyeol #baekhyun #chanyeol #park chanyeol #byun baekhyun #exo #kpop

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idiotic-genius · 3 years

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How to write an immersive scene

requested by @noa-i - check out their blog, they have amazing lists of helpful links to writing guides!

As a writer, it is mostly inevitable to get to the point in writing where you are questioning whether anyone will actually want to read what they have created. A question greatly important to writing something the reader gets hooked up with is: How do I lure them in and make them feel like they are part of something? Sometimes, writing immersive makes THE difference between a scene quick to skip over and a scene you can't take your eyes off. But how do you create immersion?

In this post: 1. Worldbuilding 2. Narrators 3. Writing visually 4. Setting the scene 5. Example to summarize

Step 1: Learn your own facts

It might be banal, since you are the author, to re-read your own notes and think about what you have written so far. However, to get the reader hooked up, make them INTERESTED. This is easily accomplished by creating a detailed fictional world that doesn't seem flat. It might be a tiring process, but it always pays off! Knowing exactly what kind of world your character finds themself in makes it a lot easier to fill in details that subconsciously make the reader believe they are dealing with an actual real-world instead of "just" a fictional one. But even though it may seem harsh, cutting out some details and facts might make the reader feel much more comfortable. Their mind wants to insert them into the universe they're reading about, so overloading them with too many unnecessary details can be just as defeating as giving them too little info. Here is a link to a great beginners-guide on worldbuilding.

Step 2: Know your narrator

As we all know, there are a bunch of different narrator types to pick from when starting a new story, and each of them is good for a different thing- reaching from the typical first-person narrator (The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson) over personal third-person (Warrior Cats, Harry Potter) to omniscient third-person (Anne of Green Gables) and biased third-person (A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). If you are writing an unbiased third-person narrator in your WIP, you can just skip this step. However, if you have any indication at all in your story as to who the narrator is, you might want to think about this more closely. The narrator is the bridge that connects the reader to the fictional world. To immerse the reader in a book, it's usually easiest to use the first-person narrator or the personal third-person narrator, because that way the reader will either imagine themself as the narrator or as a friend of the main character, which keeps them interested. If your narrator is an actual character in the story, it is necessary to keep their speech and description patterns consistent with themselves and the events of the story. For example, a character narrating that has never visited a school or similar should not use highly scientific words to describe what's going on, etc, because it will interrupt the reader's reading flow and disturb the immersion just as much as time skips do.

Step 3: Writing visually

After making sure you have the narrator and the world they're in all set, it's time to choose a writing style, more specifically, to decide the visuality of it. What I mean by that is that having a fictional world so flat it's boring is just as bad as not describing it in a way that delivers it in the way it deserves to be delivered. Picture it like this: Every scene starts in a white room, with neither windows nor doors. If you as the writer don't describe what is going on in that room and what it looks like, at best while keeping the narrator's character in mind while doing so (to make it "3D"), the reader will never know what is actually happening. This also includes adapting the length and complexity of sentences to the scene: In a combat scene, you will usually find short and cut-throat sentences to represent the intensity and living-in-the-moment mindset of a fight, however, in a meaningful conversation between two characters about a heavy subject, it's more likely that longer and more complex sentences are of use to mirror the narrator's deep thinking of the subject and their concentration on the conversation.

Step 4: Setting the scene

By setting the scene, you fill in this white room in the reader's mind, adding characters, sounds, furniture, windows, and scenery in general, while still leaving space for the reader to fill in the blanks. To find a middle between these two extremes is up to every individual writer and depends on the writing style. If you over-describe the room, the reader will know every detail about it, but it will take away their focus from what is actually happening in the scene. However, if you don't set the scene at all, the reader automatically makes up what the room might look like based on what they imagine, and then breaks out of the immersion as soon as you mention something, later on, to be in the room that they did not picture. For example, if you just say that A enters B's bedroom, the reader might quite as well imagine there to be small windows, some bookshelves, a standard bed, etc. If you don't set that up right in the beginning and later on mention that B has small windows, the books stacked on the floor, a bunch of plants, an aquarium, and a bunk bed, the reader will get confused because it doesn't fit what they had pictured before. So ask yourself: What is so important that the reader should know it before the scene actually starts? Context also matters in that case.

5. Example

In the following, I will write the same scene multiple times in different styles to illustrate what makes a difference in writing immersion. The scene goes as following: Jae falls into a dark room underground with a hooded, mysterious person waiting for him. The hooded person greets him and lights a candle, and in the emitting light, Jae realizes who he is talking to. Remember: These are more caricatures of the different writing styles than actual representation and are very overexaggerated, but you get the idea.

1. first-person narrator (Jae), scene not set properly, no visual writing, no consistency in speech pattern

After three seconds, I landed on something soft and realized I had landed in a chamber underground, slightly lit by the moonlight above me. I walked through the only doorway and found myself in a second room. A hooded figure in the middle of the dark lifted their arm. From the table beside them, they picked up a candle and lit it using a lighter. "Hello, Jae", they said, and in the newly emitting light, I recognized them in front of the fireplace.

-> feels flat and jumpy, gives no significance to the change of scenery

2. biased third-person narrator, scene set properly, overly descriptive visual writing, consistency in speech pattern

After falling for what felt like an hour, even though it was probably just a few seconds, Jae finally landed on something soft. Before even attempting to get up, he shivered at the fresh memory of what slimy, earthy, suddenly appearing tunnels felt like. He stared up through the hole at the moon and the stars, and immediately recognized the constellation of Cassiopeia, high up above him. Cassiopeia is said to have angered the Gods, so they gave her the gift of divination, but made it so that nobody would ever believe her prophecies, finally banning her into the sky as this constellation. Weirdly enough, the stars' pattern doesn't look like a woman, or a human, at all. Jae slowly stood up from where he landed and realized he had fallen onto a rather big cushion with a print of primroses in yellow, pink, red, and blue. He looked around in my new location and found himself stuck in a small portico with no windows at all and only one doorway. The walls seemed just as dirty and muddy as the tunnel he had fallen through, and as he looked closer, he spotted about a dozen small, pink worms slithering through the soil. The floor on the other hand was made out of dark wooden panels- if you wanted to call it a "floor". The pieces were just loosely stuck onto the earth underneath, and mud squeezed out from the gaps in between. Jae slowly walked over them and reached the doorway after just four steps. He saw a hooded figure standing in the center of the next room. The room had two sources of lighting: One, the moonlight shining through the disgusting tunnel, and two, a crackling fireplace. It looked like it belonged in a small cottage, being made out of red bricks and looking a little old with the small black-and-white pictures put on top of it. The flickering orange glim of the fire met the silvery-white shine of the moon in the middle of the room. On the right side, Jae saw a big old round table made out of similar wood as the floorboards outside. There were obvious scratches on it, some made by smaller knives, others bigger and maybe made by swords, with splinters on their edges. Apart from two, the fours chairs around it seemed just as maltreated, but the two others were polished and reflected the two light sources, with no scratch marks at all. On top of the table rested a metal candlestick with one slightly burned-down candle stuck inside it. The candlestick had a few scratches as well, on the side and at the bottom. "Hello, Jae", the figure said snarkily, with a voice deep and rough like sandpaper. They wore a black cape, smooth on what Jae could see of the inside and rough on the outside, with a big hood covering their hair and most of their face. A few of the blue buttons with a golden pentagram engraved on them were missing from the coat, and it was slightly ripped in a few places. One strand of dark hair fell into the person's eyes as they reached out for the candlestick, lighting the candle inside with a silver zippo-lighter. The lighter had small scratches as well as a few symbols on it. Slowly, the flame grew bigger and bigger, until the shine from below reached the figure's face. Jae's eyes went big as he realized who he was talking to.

-> little place for the reader's fantasy, but details make scenery deeper and less flat. This kind of description does make sense if the narrator/the character the narrator fixates on (Jae in this case) is very observant and/or intelligent because they will notice details that others don't. The question is whether those details are important enough to keep in the story.

3. first-person narrator (Jae), scene set properly, visual writing, consistent speech pattern

After what felt like an eternity of falling and silently begging not to die from the impact, I finally landed with my eyes squeezed shut. Okay, legs, arms, and head still in place... I slowly opened my eyes again, realizing I had landed on a soft pillow with a flower print. Cautiously, I got up, gazing up at the tunnel through which I had fallen. The view of the slimy earth made me shiver involuntarily as I blinked against the bright moonlight far above me. The sky was clear enough to see stars, which could have been far more enjoyable if it hadn't been for my miserable situation. I had landed in a small chamber underground, with a single doorway leading into a bigger room. The walls were just pure earth and seemed to swallow all noise, but when I took the first step, the sounds of my shoes on the dark wooden floorboards and of the mud squishing out from beneath them was louder than I had anticipated. I could hear the crackling of fire from the next room and see the orange glow as I made my way over to the doorway and took a glimpse into it. The room was not very big, but also not as small as the one I had landed in. There wasn't much space because of a wooden round table and four chairs, which all seemed very old and maltreated, judging from the scratches on them. I could make out a few pictures on the fireplace, and in front of that- "Hello, Jae." I had to suppress a gasp as I realized that I was not alone. In the middle of the room, right where the silvery moonlight and the orange glow of the fire met, stood a hooded figure. Their coat looked as old as the few pieces of furniture, with missing buttons and rips. I couldn't make out much of their face, even though I squinted my eyes, but the flickering light made it hard to see anything, let alone recognize. But that voice... Before I could come to a conclusion, the figure reached for a metal candlestick standing on the table and lit the candle inside with a silver lighter. As the flame grew bigger, they dispelled the shadows below the hood that had disguised the person's features before. I could feel my eyes get big as I finally realized who was standing before me.

-> Gives enough information to "fill the white room" without dwelling on details too much, shows the context of the story, gives Jae a consistent personality

So that's it for this post! I hope I managed to pass on a thing or two that I learned while researching and that this post will help you with your writing. Please acknowledge, I am not trying to attack anyone's style of writing!! If you write the way I wrote a "non-immersive" scene, it does NOT mean that your writing style is bad, let alone wrong, because the existence of many different writing styles is what keeps it individual and interesting! Find your own way and let nobody get you down :)

#writing #writing prompts #writing tips #writing advice #story prompt #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #immersion #writing immersion #immersive writing #story tips #how to write #tutorial #tips #request

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astoryinred · 3 years

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"Trese" and the truth in the fiction

In short: why the actual monsters in Trese don't have horns, wings, or summoning rituals

Finally the Netflix anime adaptation of the Filipino graphic novel/comics series "Trese" has dropped. It is available in several languages such as English, Filipino, Japanese, Spanish...just to name a few. It is not a perfect work, both in technical terms as well as an adaptation of the source material, but it is worth a watch. Go watch it. Please.

That being said, there is so much to unpack about the series, and I do not mean in terms of the voice-acting and the ethnicities of the persons involved, or just how crunched together the writing is. I will leave that to the critics. What I am writing here is a view as to the real life truths woven into the horror/supernatural threads of the "Trese" episodes, and why these are important. It's because for a lot of people encountering "Trese" at this point, the actual every day monsters of the tale (or at least of the first 4 episodes) are even more distant than the aswangs, tikbalangs, nunos and other supernatural beings that populate the anime.

This will go into spoilers below the cut

Episode 1: The series opens with a train stopping right near the "Guadalupe Station", and some of its passengers being attacked by aswang as they walk along the railroad tracks. During the course of investigating this and another case (that of a ghost murdered on Balete Drive), Alexandra Trese learns that other spirits using this train line have recently perished in a fire or have also been murdered by aswang in league with a politician.

The squatter/informal settler community mentioned in this episode is based on a real one. That area has gone up in flames from accidental and not so accidental fires over the past few decades. Some of the settlers have moved on, but a good many have stubbornly stuck around despite the land being eyed by a large property developer. That area is a symptom of the inequality that plagues that particular part of the metropolis, since it is only less than a mile away from some of the country's swankiest gated subdivisions. While the powers that be are (probably) not involved in selling anyone for meat, they still have a long way to go to address the woes of that community when it is not election season.

As for the other murder in the episode? There have been several cases of women associated with or married to prominent politicians who have died in mysterious circumstances, with some of these deaths ruled as suicide. In many cases, the truth has been hushed up, or simply swept under the rug.

Episode 2: While Alexandra is pursuing the trail of a tikbalang running wild in the city, she also is called to investigate a mysterious series of electrocutions in a gated village. Along the way she discovers that this is a form of human sacrifice to the bagyons manning the electricity providers of the city.

As reprehensible as the bagyons are, what is truly sickening is the seeming indifference of the people in Livewell Village. It's mentioned more in the comics (but also given a line or two of exposition here by the Nuno) that the people regularly offer an outsider, usually a skilled worker in charge of maintenance, to ensure that the bagyon will bless them. In real life there is the callousness that some people exhibit towards essential workers such as yes, repairmen and electricians who have to endure heights and storms just to ensure the "comfort" of consumers. Although the Philippines isn't a country crawling with litiginous folk and "Karens", there are enough of this sort to make essential workers' lives miserable on a daily basis.

Episode 3: This is a difficult one, both in the comics and the anime. One of Trese's cases leads her to cross paths with an actress named Nova, who is later revealed to have had her child left to die (hence making her a target for a specific type of monster). Nova's story is admittedly not easy to deal with and may be considered incredulous, but there are two important contexts to remember when watching it.

The first is that abortion is still illegal throughout the Philippines. It cannot be legally offered by any clinic or medical practitioner. There are clandestine alternatives available, but at a steep price.

That being said, most Filipinos regardless of where they stand on the abortion issue will still consider the abandonment or murder of an infant to be beyond the pale. Yet this does happen. Every month one can expect to read a story or two of babies being tossed in the trash or left in bathrooms---and those are just the stories that make it to the press. There have been exposes about mothers who have sold off their infants to "adopters" willing to pay thousands of pesos or dollars for an under the table transfer of custody. These happen because of desperation, poverty, and lack of resources to support mothers. Maternity leave is only up to 120 days here in most cases, and there are few resources to support mothers with PPD, mothers abandoned by their partners, or those with just too many mouths to feed. Questions of "bodily autonomy" are not first and foremost in the mind of many women who do the worst to their newborns; the question is food on the table for the next day or the day after. Survival is key. Not independence or empowerment.

With these in mind, it is not surprising that Nova is considered one of the most disturbing and reprehensible characters in this episode. From what we see, her choice of abandoning her child stems from vanity and pursuit of a glamorous career. We can see that this is not because she would be out on the streets if she had a child to care for, or because she was escaping something. It's just portrayed as pure selfishness.

It is interesting that Nova is introduced here almost as a juxtaposition to another mother, Ramona. Ramona, the mother of Crispin and Basilio, is an armed insurgent who engages in a ritual to avenge herself on the military men who forced her to murder her own comrades. It is also implied earlier in the season that it was not just murder involved, but that Ramona had also been a "prize" given to the soldiers who captured her. And yes in this context, it can also mean rape. The Armed Forces of the Philippines does not have a shining record when it comes to its treatment of women dissidents and prisoners. This backstory does not justify what Ramona does for the remainder of her screentime, but it does show why she has absolutely no sympathy or mercy to give to anyone outside of her two children. She is part of a cycle of killing that makes any peaceful resolution of the insurgency in the Philippines so difficult to achieve. Both sides behave abominably, and civillians do get caught in the crossfire (or explosions).

Episode 4: Much of this episode revolves around the events in and surrounding a certain police station located near a large public cemetery. We see that the police chief Captain Guerrero has his hands full with cases and keeping his subordinates in line. The cops in the precinct range from the innocent apparent newcomer Tapia to the more stereotypical "asshole" cops Reyes and company. Later it is discovered that the bodies apparently "stolen" from the graves are resurrected zombies who are being directed to attack the station for a specific reason...and it has to do with how the police run their often bloody operations.

The real life neighborhoods surrounding the cemetery have seen their share of violence and "extra judicial killings". In some houses there are still candles and placards calling for justice for family members killed in raids or accused of having been drug suspects (almost a death sentence in the Philippines 2016 onwards). Eyewitnesses and CCTV footage show members of the police force taking part in these raids and clandestine operations. The worst part? The neighborhoods surrounding that particular cemetery haven't even seen the worst of it. Other disadvantaged communities in the north of the metropolis have seen even more deaths of this sort...with some of the deaths being those of children. Google the name of Kian delos Santos as a test case. Kian's case was one of the few to have extended media coverage, and even then the resolution has been rather wanting.

It is tempting to go into the "all cops are bastards" line of thought with this episode, but I do like how Captain Guerrero is forced to interact with someone who he is trying to save in the station, since as it turns out this person has recently lost a family member to this form of senseless murder. Captain Guerrero and the audience are led to remember that these victims have names. They had families. They had lives. They are more than body counts and statistics. That scene is one of the most humanizing of the series, and shows that while not all cops are bastards, there is enough rot in the institution to make it a problem.

Episodes 5-6: I would go more into Episodes 5 and 6, but those deserve a whole new treatment into the nature of truth, compromise, and even gaslighting (even I am not sure how much of a certain character's narrative is true, and how much is just meant to confuse Alexandra with regard to what she knows of her father). The context she does face before those harrowing revelations is a very real one though: things going wrong in a penitentiary.

The penal system of the Philippines is alarmingly punitive and full of inequities. Privileged inmates like politicians do receive special treatment (including media coverage and becoming leaders of factions) while less privileged inmates languish and must struggle to survive the brutal social hiearchy in some institutions. And yes it has happened that inmates have been sent out to do "jobs" of murder and arson in the outside world, often being snuck in and out. A movie that tackles this aspect better is "OTJ (On the Job)" directed by Erik Matti. That one will keep you up at night.

The ending of Episode 6 is rather ambiguous, and it remains to be seen what Alexandra really experienced during her trials prior to becoming a detective, and what her father really did to her and her sibling. We'll have to wait for another season to get to the bottom of that. But if the anime will continue to draw from the comics themselves for stories/case files, we can count on seeing more societal demons and baddies alongside the supernatural ones. And those are the villains that Alexandra Trese cannot just readily beat; it will take a heck lot more than a babaylan na mandirigma to handle those!

#trese #tw:infanticide #tw:gore #tw:abortion #tw:horror #tw: suicide #tw: implied rape

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.

Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.

Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.

Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.

But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.

Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.

She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.

So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.

A long way home was awaiting her.

And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”

It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.

When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.

The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.

But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.

She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.

She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.

“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.

Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.

“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”

Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.

“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”

“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”

“Squad Leader…”

“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.

In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.

And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.

Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.

But she was alone in that bed.

There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.

There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.

A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.

She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.

She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.

But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.

He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.

Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.

If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.

“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.

He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.

In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.

Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.

“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”

Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.

There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.

Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.

Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—

She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.

“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”

Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.

These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.

“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”

She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”

“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”

“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”

“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”

“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”

She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.

“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”

“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”

Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?

She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”

“It is. It always will.”

The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.

A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.

“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.

___

Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.

Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.

But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.

This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.

“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”

“You always have been heroes.”

You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.

“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”

The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”

Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”

Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.

“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”

Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.

“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.

Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.

Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”

The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…

The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?

“He actually wrote so?”

“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”

Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.

“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.

“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”

Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.

“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.

Not like she did.

Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.

Sina’s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.

Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.

“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”

He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”

Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.

“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”

Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”

Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.

Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”

“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”

Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.

What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?

Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.

___

Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.

The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.

Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…

Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”

“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.

Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.

The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.

But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.

“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”

“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”

“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”

So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.

“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”

Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."

Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?

Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?

"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"

"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"

Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.

___

For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.

The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.

Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.

"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.

If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.

As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.

All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.

At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.

But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.

"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."

Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.

She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?

Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."

"I have—"

"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."

"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"

Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.

"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.

Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."

Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.

Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.

___

Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.

Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.

"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"

"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,

"Hange and I have been working together before."

"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"

"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.

"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."

"Nice ones, I hope?"

The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"

"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."

"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."

Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.

"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.

"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.

"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.

Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.

"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"

"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."

"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."

Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"

"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."

"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.

"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"

"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"

Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.

"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.

"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.

Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"

Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."

"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."

"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."

"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?

"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."

"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."

Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.

"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."

Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.

"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."

Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.

“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”

In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.

Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.

“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”

That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”

“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”

That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.

Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,

“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”

Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”

It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.

“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.

But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.

“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”

“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”

That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.

“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.

“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”

Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?

Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.

But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.

She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—

And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.

She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—

A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.

It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—

"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"

She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.

"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.

Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.

___

"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."

His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."

Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."

"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"

She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.

Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.

But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.

Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.

On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.

And so the shadow finally took form.

Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.

At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.

"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"

Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."

Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.

"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"

Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"

"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"

"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”

Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”

Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.

But what would she do?

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."

After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.

However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.

Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?

Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—

She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.

Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?

It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.

Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.

And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.

But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.

There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.

Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.

She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.

She just needed to give him a little push.

“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”

Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.

The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

#does someone still remember that fic? i for sure had almost forgotten about it jdfsdkhgsjgh #levihan

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miraculous-trinity-leo · 3 years

Text

Tᕼᗴ ᑕᕼᗩOTIᑕ ᗩᑎᘜᗴᒪ

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Chapter 3: Au Revoir Gotham My True Home

•—–—–·†·–—–—•

Marinette explained what happened and that she didn't mean to cause trouble, she didn't know why the bats were looking for her (author to audience... it's because she looks like one of his bat kids gone rouge.) When she asked how they knew the Bat was looking for her, she found out that Selina was actually dating the Bat... So Marinette was very surprised at that, her family talked about it and a few days after her birthday she'll be going to Paris, France with Selina to be with a family friend of hers. Marinette was now really thinking she was cursed, but she made sure to take it in stride and spend as much time with her friends and family as possible.

"Doan wawhry suguh, we'll make sure tuh visit as much as possible, yuh can even visit us durin' summuh and wintuh break." - Harley held back the tears as she hugged Marinette, Bud, Lou, Ivy, Selina, Ed and even Frank joined in on it.

……… ………

Marinette was out with her friends still not sure how to tell them, she started with the obvious.

"Sooo... tomorrow I turn 10... the double digits." - Marinette

"Soon you'll be one of us!" - Garfield gave Marinette a side hug with a big smile, god he made it harder to tell them

"So what do you want to do? We can celebrate, tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that, heck we can celebrate for the whole week while we're at it!" - Garfield

Rachel noticed the sad smile Marinette had as Garfield continued talking.

"Is there something you need to tell us?" - Rachel's words stoped Garfield in his tracks, he then looked at a slightly teary Marinette, and he felt a slight tinge of pain in his chest.

"I- um, I'm moving this Saturday... I'm sorry I really don't want to, but- *hic* I-" - Marinette was cut off by Garfield giving her a hug, he rubbed small circles on her back as she let out a few sobs. Rachel patting her shoulder to try and comfort her.

After they were like that for a few minutes, they decided to get ice cream

……… ……… ………

"I'm sorry." - Marinette eating her chocolate chip ice cream

"It's not your fault Mari, besides, we can officially say we have a pen pal in Paris." - Garfield with his chocolate mint ice cream trying to lighten the mood, managed to get a chuckle out of Marinette.

"We can still video call, or text you. And your parents said you can visit on summer and winter break." - Rachel just starting her strawberry ice cream

"But what if I need a friend to talk to when I can't sleep? Or if I need a movie buddy? Or gaming buddy?" - Marinette

"There are online multiplayer games we can play you know." - Rachel

"Yeah, and I'm sure you'll make friends over there really quickly, I mean you already know a few other languages, including French, so there isn't any communication problems." - Garfield

"I wish you guys could come with me..." - Marinette almost done with her ice cream

"... Didn't you say you always wanted a hamster, maybe one that's unique, like a the rare Green Gotham Hamster?" - Garfield with a mischievous grin

"Selina's family friends own a bakery, so no pets allowed. Sorry Rare Green Gotham Hamster, I'm afraid you're staying native to Gotham." - Marinette said patting his shoulder.

"Wait they own a bakery?! As in you can be on a sugar high 24/7?! Take me with you!!" - Garfield

……… ……… ………

Soon it was time for them to go home, when Marinette got home, she continued packing what she would need, making sure that her Siren plushies where safely secure, and then went to eat dinner.

The next day she made sure to get up early, Garfield and Rachel knew where she lived, and wanted to make sure everything was ready for them, setting up the games they would play into the night, and the movies they would watch after that.

She then went to the Gardens to greet her Mom and the plants, doing the usual routine of checking all the plants, complimenting and watering them. During which a sleepy Harley walked over giving Ivy and Marinette a morning kiss before going to make her coffee.

At breakfast she didn't see her Aunt yet, she assumed she was robbing someone rich again.

……… Over to Catwoman ………

"Come ta mama." - Catwoman mumbled as she used her claws to cut the glass surrounding an old elegant purple sapphire that belonged to one of Gotham's founding fathers' wives.

……… Back to Marinette ………

About an hour after breakfast Garfield and Rachel came over, holding Marinettes' rapped presents, they started the day off with trivia games, which they called the MIQ (which can mean either Marinette Isley-Quinzel or in this case Memory Intelligence Quiz) which Marinette and Rachel came to a tie followed by Ivy, then Harley, and Garfield. They then moved on to board games, Marinette decided to play The Game of Life rather than Monopoly (because lets be honest, who has ever finished that game in the time of a signle day? An extreme speedrunner... maybe.) while the adults got the cake ready. Surprisingly Garfield won, he got the acting career, a sports car, a nice old fashioned mid modern house, a wife, and 3 kids... Marinette got the fashion designer career, got a motorcycle, and a small, but nice victorian house, a husband, and one kid... and Rachel got the scientist career (because science is just simplified mortal magic), a delorean car (and even said "Since science is magic I can make it fly, so technically, I don't need roads where I'm going."), a modern cabin in the woods, single (she didn't want a significant other to interrupt her magic science) and got a pet bird.

Once Selina and Ed came over, they began the party, playing games like DDR, Ultimate Mecha Strike 2, and Racing games.

When it came time for Marinette to blow out her candles, she wished that everything would be okay, and that she will be able to come back to Gotham permanently, and blew them out.

She then got to open her presents, she started with Harley's, and got a custom baseball bat that was a dark steel blue, with a light grey handle grip, and it had the words "Quinn For Da Win" on it, putting a smile on her face, when she opened Ivy's gift she got seeds of her favorite flowers to plant over in Paris. She then opened her Uncle Ed's gift, which was a small watch that had special A.I., it had a cover over the inside screen that would flip open to reveal another screen. The cover was silver with a blue question mark, and when it opened, it showed the time, and the location you where in, it could also act as a GPS, and a phone (it could even play music AND had an incredible battery life span). She then moved on to her Aunt Selina's gift, finding a small purple sapphire in the shape of a cat paw, surrounded in silver. She then opened Rachel's gift, it was a travel mug that said "Coffee lives in my veins." (Marinette started drinking coffee recently) which made Marinette laugh, and then she got to Garfield's gift. When she opened it, she found a handmade charm bracelet, it had animals that she really liked around it, and there was one that was a small tiger, with it's eyes and nose having a light green peridot stone, to represent the first day they met. She put the bracelet on her right rist and thanked Garfield for it, and gave everyone a big hug.

She spent the rest of the day playing with her friends, having a wonderful time, and getting a massive sugar rush from all the cake they had. When it came time for dinner they were running low on energy, but were back to normal after Harley snuck some coffee into their food... The only thoughts that went through Garfield and Rachel's minds where "That's why Mari drinks this stuff..."

After dinner they played all kinds of video games, and ended it by watching Back To The Future. They fell asleep some time after 2am.

……… ……… …….

The next morning they all had breakfast and then spent the day playing parkour tag over roofs and playing I spy games. And at the end of the day Marinette gave her friends a big hug, before heading back home. She spent her time with her moms, Uncle, and Frank, playing more boardgames and discussing what she should do to make friends...

"Just be yawhself, we love yuh fawh who yuh are, and I'm sure everyone in Paris will love yuh too... if dey doan, den dey most likely have a massive defective reject of a brain." - Was Harley's opinion

"Riddle the f-ck out of their brain, if they can solve all of them, and like you for you, then they are worthy." - Which was Ed's opinion

"Use a chemical based compound from the magnolia flower, combined with three tulip petals, one rose petal, and pollen from a lilac to create a befriending potion." - Ivy's words made everyone silent before Ed spoke up

"... Harley if you're being mind controlled blink." - Ed deadpaned, which had Marinette cackling

"I'm not bein' mind controlled, also yuh nawhmally say ‘blink once or twice’ not just ‘blink’ I could blink at any random interval and yuh woun't know what tuh tink, and here I thoughtcha were a genius." - Harley with her head on Ivy's lap as Marinette starts wheezing.

"I think y'all broke her." - Frank just pointed to Marinette as she was still cackling and wheezing while in the fetal position.

That's when Selina walked in...

"What the hell did you guys do to Kitten?!" - Selina dropping the bags she got from some high end shop, and after they made sure Marinette was still alive they continued their game... and Marinette may have actually written the list of ingredients for that position, but only as a last resort. When it was time for them to sleep Marinette spent the night with her moms, like she use to when she was 4.

She got up early to make sure everything was ready, she had her sketch book in her backpack, as well as some pencils, ear buds, snacks and a picture of her with her family and friends. She decided to wear her new watch and charm bracelet as she finished checking her bag, she then went into the garden to say goodbye to all the plants, and to give Bud, Lou and Frank one last goodbye. She had about 3 hours before her and her Aunt were to head to the airport, and she spent that time with her moms, almost never leaving their side.

……… ……… …….

As the plane took off she looked out the airplane window, saying goodbye to Gotham, until her next visit home....

•—–·★·–—•

Chapter 3 complete, also just in case I didn't describe her B-day gifts good enough, here's what they look like (꒪꒳꒪)

Hope you're all having an amazing day, staying safe and rockin' all positive vibes,!BUG-OUT! 💮🐞💮

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜Tag List〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

1st Place★: @jumpingjoy82

2nd Place★: @myazael

3rd Place★: @solangelo252

@fandom-trapped-03, @zorua-adorable, @blueblossombliss, @thefangirlwholiterallydies, @woe-is-me0, @lady-bee-fechin, @jayjayspixiepop, @kashlyn, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @buginetye, @our-preciousss , @vroomtaka, @alessialeone6997

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 18, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Hey OP where’s the funny header gif for this post? Sorry, it was murdered by an angst demon and the framing of these shots.

My Found Family Came to Find Me

Continuing our flashback from last time, we see Baby Wei Ying up a tree, refusing to come down because he's afraid there are dogs. Eventually he falls out of the tree, like a dumbass a child, and Yanli tries but fails to catch him.

Unlike his grownup counterpart, Baby Wei Ying doesn't pretend he's unhurt when he is hurt. I'd like to put the change at Yu Ziyuan's door, but actually he admits to being hurt during his Gusu summer - he mimics Lan Zhan's stoicism when they're getting beaten, but it doesn't come naturally to him, and he whines a lot afterwards.

By the time of the Animatronic Dog incident, however, he's laughing off obvious injuries that have secret trauma behind them. By the time he comes back, coreless, from the burial mounds, he won't confide in anyone about his hurts any more, except possibly Wen Qing.

Yanli carries Wei Ying, in a sequence that will be echoed much later in his life when Lan Zhan carries him (gifset here). While they head back, she tells him that Jiang Cheng has a bad temper and to ignore whatever mean things he says. This will also be echoed in the future, when Wei Wuxian says it to Lan Zhan after their argument with Jiang Cheng in the shrine.

Yanli also explains that Jiang Cheng loved his dogs and that he's been very sad since Jiang Fengmian sent them away, demonstrating once again that Jiang Fengmian is a terrible father. Yanli says that Jiang Cheng will be happy to have a friend with him, though. This kind of makes Wei Wuxian's role in Jiang Cheng's life "replacement dog."

Jiang Cheng, after getting over this particular snit, got worried about Wei Wuxian and woke up Yanli to find him, and then went wandering around in the dark like a dumbass a child, and is banged up and crying when the other two find him. Yanli encourages him to apologize to Wei Wuxian and he does, which will not happen again until the very end of the show.

They all smile and laugh together, as Wei Ying looks to Yanli to guide him through the insanity that his life has suddenly become.

(more behind the cut!)

They head back to Lotus Pier in a sweet montage of walking and smiling together, with Jiang Cheng carrying the world's most beautiful candle holder with the world's most wind-resistant candle in it, to light their way back. Back in the present day for a brief moment, Jiang Cheng pretends to sleep and listens to his sister insisting that the three of them should always stay together, while a single tear rolls down the side of his face.

Soup is Love, Chapter 1 of 1000

Then we head to the past again. In Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying's now-shared room, Wei Ying sits on the bed trying to figure out how to deal with his grumpy new roommate.

Wei Ying is unsure what to do when confronted with pajama game this strong. Tiny Jiang Cheng is already a fashion king.

Then he tells Jiang Cheng he's not going to narc him out to the clan leader, since it was his own fault that he hurt his leg. This is all Jiang Cheng needs to hear to decide Wei Ying is all right, and he says that he will help Wei Ying chase away dogs in the future. In fact, Wei Wuxian will protect Jiang Cheng from punishment basically forever, while Jiang Cheng will continue to threaten Wei Wuxian with dogs...forever.

They shake hands on their new understanding and then jump up and down laughing, Wei Ying's leg being all better now, apparently. When Yanli arrives (carrying a tray of...can you guess? I'll let you guess), they stop jumping. Wei Ying dives in to give Jiang Cheng a little tickle/embrace in an adorable moment that would have me saying "oh, my ovaries!" if I hadn't surgically sent my ovaries to hell a few years ago.

Yanli introduces Wei Ying to the emotional and gustatorial miracle that is her lotus and ribs soup. He hesitates a long time before tucking in because he's so unused to being fed.

Consent? I Don’t Even Know Her

The flashback wraps up with Yanli conked out on the table from the drugs in the incense burner, while Wei Wuxian, who is somehow unaffected despite sitting almost as close to the smoke as she was, checks on her. Jiang Cheng and his Uggs period-appropriate sock thingies get out of bed to come stand with Wei Wuxian, and have feelings about sending Yanli away after she JUST said she doesn't want to be parted from them.

Wei Wuxian: If she didn't want us to do this, she shouldn't have signed that blanket consent-to-medical-treatment form. Jiang Cheng: Wen Qing made me sign one of those plus a durable power of attorney, is that bad?

This episode is all about people overriding each others' agency and making massively important decisions without the consent of the people who will be affected. But in a feudal context, it's not a violation, no matter how it feels to the person being controlled. In feudal life, your body belongs to your lord -- your sect leader, in the world of CQL. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng's choices are overridden by their clan leader's final command to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian's core is arguably Jiang Fengmian's property--Wei Wuxian certainly sees it that way, just as his hand was Yu Ziyuan's to take if she wished.

The brothers tenderly tuck Yanli into bed in the rolly cart and hand her off to Song Lan. They talk about how important it is to get her to Lanling and that she's probably going to be mad, as they thank Song Lan for helping them.

Yanli listens while she sleeps and, in what is becoming a trademark Jiang move, lets a single tear roll down the side of her face. Jiang Cheng points out that Yanli never gets mad at Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is like, true dat.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

Song Lan is always so emotional about every damn thing, I love him. Here he's like OH GOD NO DON'T FORMALLY THANK ME! STOP!!!

Then he starts to ask Wei Wuxian to pass a message to Song Xingchen for him, but then decides not to say anything, making it super obvious that they fought and aren't together.

Wei Wuxian reacts to this with confusion and distress, probably because he doesn't want to imagine ever having a breakup with his own soulmate. Which he soon will be having. But possibly he's just upset that his OTP broke up.

After Song Lan takes off, Jiang Cheng gives Wen Qing a rude & perfunctory thank-you bow, turning away before she can return it. Wei Wuxian tells her not to take it to heart - basically everyone who deals with Jiang Cheng gets a version of the "ignore what he says" speech. She says she understands and that in his place she would have behaved worse, which is so totally not true.

Then she asks Wei Wuxian if he's sure about the core transfer (not in so many words, because the script is being kind of being vague about it, without actually hiding what's happening). His reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then he and Jiang Cheng walk off, with Jiang Cheng giving us a rear view that had me googling Wang Zhuocheng's fashion shoots to determine if that wagon he's draggin’ is really as delightful as this belt makes it look. Alas, there is not a wealth of photographic evidence for this research, as compared to, for example, photos of Xiao Zhan's outstanding ass.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning see them off, with Wen Qing wishing they valued their lives more. Although, what she and Wen Ning are doing is massive treason, so their lives will be pretty much forfeit if they're caught, so...

The Sunshot Campaign of Like 60 Dudes

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng walk up the mountain for the whole beginning of the Sunshot campaign, which...okay. Maybe it's like Dunkirk or The Witcher where they intercut stuff that is happening in different timeframes, which is one of my least favorite new film style thingies.

You know, for a guy Wei Wuxian constantly calls "peacock," Jin Ziyuan really doesn't wear a lot of adornment; just some subtle metalwork on his belt with no dangly bits at all, and a single reasonably-sized hair crown. Compared to the extremely fancy Lan Wangji he's almost plain. We already know that Wei Wuxian is a massive hypocrite when it comes to his idea of a perfect boy, however.

So, this is the Lanling Jin army, which consists of literally 60 guys, including the ones on the stairs and Jin Zixuan and Douchebag Dad. How are they going to fight a war with this tiny group? Why do they have such a big plaza? Hasn't anybody on this production learned CGI cloning?

That’s better.

Nie Mingjue and his best bitch Baxia make quick work of the 4 Wen guys who were assigned to hold the Unclean Realm.

Hello, Daddy Da-Ge!

Squeeee, it's Lan Wangji! He's taking back Cloud Recesses! Ooooohhh we've missed you Lan Wangji.

Look guys he's here! Look how beautiful he is. He's looking at the gate of cloud recesses and thinking thoughts that Lan Xichen or Wei Wuxian could probably see in his bewitching eyes if they were here to see him, which they aren't. But at least he is here!

....and now he's gone again. *cries*

Hares On The Mountains

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian continue roaming prettily around this pretty mountainside. The locations in this show are such eye candy.

Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains If I was a young lass I’d soon go a hunting

Jiang Cheng starts to have doubts about the whole Baoshan Sanren thing. Wei Wuxian's reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then we have just the tenderest blindfolding scene, (more gifs here), which is fodder for your ChengXian dreams, if you have those.

Here's a good place for a sidebar about what is and isn't incest. Whee! In the CDrama context, relationships tend to be more clearly defined than in western media. The mechanism of confession & acceptance means that people either are or are not in a romantic relationship, with few grey areas. So a character can literally say "we grew up as brother and sister, but now we are dating" and when someone looks startled they just say "there's no blood relation" and everyone is like "cool cool" and that's the new definition of the relationship.

For a strong example of this, the extremely wonderful Go Ahead is about a contemporary family in which a girl and two boys, who are not blood relatives, are all raised together, and call each other brother and sister. When they become adults, they and everyone around them expect the girl (now a woman) to marry one of the two men who have been her brothers, while whichever one she doesn't choose will carry on as her sibling. It's treated as the most natural, logical thing in the world; the only question is whether she wants to make that transition, and with whom.

Looked at through this lens, Wei Wuxian's relationships with his adoptive siblings have just as much potential to turn into romances as his relationships with his friends do, and there's nothing creepy about it. As such you can expect my meta to always get into ChengXian moments without treating it as a wrong or forbidden love. Hopeless, of course, because Jiang Cheng is such a prick the power of WangXian is stronger, but that's a different matter.

What is wrong is wearing this fantastic hat & veil combination when the most fashionable person on the mountain is blindfolded and can't see it.

In the course of this blindfolded encounter with Wen Qing, Jiang Cheng gets to kneel before a powerful woman, be led along by a length of silk that's placed in his hand, and then knocked the fuck out and operated on. He'll wake up in a hotel room in a tub full of ice with "we took your kidney" written on the mirror in lipstick, and he'll love every minute of it.

Soundtrack: 1. Still Fighting it, by Ben Folds 2. Hares on the Mountain, by Steeleye Span

Writing Prompt: The NEXT time somebody blindfolds Jiang Cheng

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #chengxian #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

Photo

[image description: three monstera leaves. The leaves and wall are tinted purple by string lights behind the plant. In the middle, in a white serif font and all caps, reads “LIFE CYCLE OF MASSIVE STARS”. At the bottom, in the same font but smaller, reads “update #1″ /end id]

LIFE CYCLE OF MASSIVE STARS | UPDATE #1

Before I start, this is an autistic OwnVoices novel and it’s Autism Acceptance Month! Remember that awareness is passive and acceptance is active. And whilst this book is autistic OwnVoices I want to stress that it doesn’t cover the full autistic experience; autism is so individualistic and this story only stems from my experience. Make sure you to listen to all autistics, not just those who can speak and live independently and present in a way that suits neurotypical society. Support autistic creatives and if you’re also a creative, include autistic characters in your work! Autism is not a disease. It does not need to be cured.

Hey y’all! This has sure been a week! I gave myself the goal of 15,000 words for Camp Nano and somehow hit that in 5 days? I have literally never written at that pace before so I’m a little shocked lol. I don’t intend to keep that pace but the momentum has made drafting very fun and? drafting this has been a literal dream. I was really worried because March was a month long slump I expected to carry into April. I want to disclaim that I’m currently out of school and work because of the pandemic so I have all the free time to write and that definitely contributed! But also as a neurodivergent and disabled writer, free time does not always equal writing, so to know that I am capable of writing like this, even if not always, it is Such a gamechanger. Also this story makes me miss University so much I actually can’t take it :(

LCOMS has been a dream so far because the protagonists are all characters I’ve had for 5-8 years, and | spent those years struggling to figure out their stories. Even when I settled on this story, originally Patchwork, there was like 4 versions of it before I landed on this - none ever drafted beyond a couple thousand words because they just Never Worked. But the wait was worth it because holy shit I feel like I struck gold. This story feels so me, it’s so much fun to write, and I don’t think a story has come to me this easy before. It’s given me such a zest for storytelling again that I didn’t realise was missing. I’m slowing things down now because creative boundaries and self care >>>>, but I just passed 19k words - though some of the chapters are very unfinished because my priority has been mapping out the story’s skeleton as far as I can, then filling in the gaps based off what I learnt. I wanna put a passage before the cut so it’s not just me rambling about bullshit and no content, but it’s hard to pick just one, so here’s a non-linear scene that I :) cannot elaborate on :)

(CW: alcohol)

[image description: the side of a ferris wheel against black sky. The wheel is lit white, but at the bottom it’s coloured a mix of pink, blue and green. At the top, in a white serif font, reads “The ferris wheel lights blur between turquoise, magenta, mint, lavender, casts the puddles into technicolour. “ /end id]

Picture this: December 17th. End of term. End of year. Cloudless night, stars winking. Fargate glows, market stalls lit by yellow fairy lights line the street like candle stubs, gently burning. It’s raining. It has all day. Dampened your new beanie and scarf but you’re not mad, even if you’ll cringe at the texture when you take them off later. The ferris wheel lights blur between turquoise, magenta, mint, lavender, casts the puddles into technicolour. Your eyes and feet ache, but you’re not mad. And the mulled wine that buzzed warm in your bloodstream now coils in your stomach, but you’re not mad. You’re queuing for the technicolour wheel, even though you know it’ll be underwhelming and a waste of £4, but you’re not mad. Chocolate is usually too sweet for you, but he bought a pack of snowflake shaped ones - each carved with their own design - and when he passes the paper bag over you don’t say no. They taste like raspberry. He grins at you.

I have once again written a long update because I am autistic and have no self control; more excerpts and chapter-by-chapter rambles are as usual under the cut!

(content warnings are specific to the respective excerpt, but as a general warning there’s a lot of alcohol mentions!)

Originally I wanted 3 parts for 3 semesters, but I might do 2? Especially because in the UK at least the spring and summer semester kinda blend into one. The chapters are grouped by 3 - one for every POV character - but that’s more to help with writing because I get more done if I break it down like that, but I also like how it’s shaped the story structurally.

Sometimes the three chapters will be each of the character’s POV on a single event, sometimes they’re more individual but still follow a general idea (for example, one of them is how each character’s first three weeks of the semester goes). As usual for me the plot here is ~non-existent, especially at this stage, but everything is still connected and threaded together and thats all we really need. The chapters are also pretty short at the moment, none of them are over 3k and only tackle 1-3 scenes. This is something I feel is working really nicely now but I’m not gonna commit to it for the entire novel. I like chapter length variety! But right now we are just going with the flow :)

The most unexpected part is this being in second person, which I decided impulsively the night before Nano because I have :) zero self control :). I was unsure if it’d work in Multi POV, but it’s created such a unique tone that I can’t imagine the story without anymore, even if it’ll need tweaking over drafts. I think it suits the story so well! I’m just torn about it being in past or present, so if you see tense jumps in the excerpts no you did not <3 I’m not naming chapters right now beyond the character’s name, but part one is titled Growing Pains.

[image description: photo of a city at night. To the left are skyscrapers with lots of lit up windows behind a chain-link fence. To the right is an unlit building. Near the middle is a bright streetlight. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “growing pains”. /end id]

1: Tomas

We start in the most overrated part of Uni, fresher’s week <3 The drinking and clubbing culture of UK university is a big part of this novel but in a way that’s like “hey this can be fun sometimes but sometimes it’s really not and it’s also really not for everyone.” Our three POVs go to a club night and really don’t care for it. Tomas does not want to be here, is in a weird as shit mood, and instead of looking for his friends he goes to the smoking area with a man he just met called Damiano. I really wanna rewrite this because I wrote it with Zero Idea of where the story was going, so here’s the one part of it that I consider salvageable <3

Damiano shoves his phone in your hands, brightness puncturing darkness. You hadn’t noticed the dimmed lights until then, but the room blued, music and time slowed. Though his notes are on dark mode, his phone brightness is on two fucking high. Your eyes sting. Cracks travel up the screen like veins.

Each character also has a specific image they keep seeing in things that are never actually there and they all make me like 🤠 hey besties what do these mean are you okay?? I Do Not know what they mean yet, but Tomas’ is veins. (Also shout out to me for finally settling on a spelling for his name after 5 years and by that I mean thank you to my friends for peer pressuring me into choosing Tomas lol)

My absolute favourite part of this story is the character voices. They are all SO fun to write, and I feel like I settled into a good combo of My Literary Prose Bullshit and they’re very specific, often very sarcastic voices. They also say fuck like, so many fucking times. RIP to me if I decide to query this <3

2: Kristen

Okay first off Kristen is THE funniest character I’ve written. He is SO fun. I wish I was his bestie but he’s also been my bestie since 2013. We meet him in the gender neutral bathrooms being annoyed by a very rich and very tone deaf girl. Classism and the UK class divide is one of the biggest themes of this novel, and Kristen is a very proud working class Northerner (the North is massively underfunded and unsupported by the Gov compared to the South) and cannot stand the Tories (Conservative Party). Extremely fucking valid of him

(CW: blood)

“I’m Floss. Florence.” Of course she was. Fucking Florence. “Where are you from?”

You don’t look at her. Eyes on your reflection, the glittered cheekbones. You busy yourself with your eyeliner, gliding the pen over gaps and smudges that don’t exist. “Barnsley, babe.” It’s only a half lie this time - if you tell her you were born in Liverpool she’d probably look at you like you’re a dead rat on the side of a dodgy alleyway. But maybe that’d be better because then she’d leave you the fuck alone.

“Oh! That’s like well close isn’t it. I’m from Reigate.” Her voice breathes trust fund and Waitrose, tries to speak like it doesn’t. You try not to laugh.

“Reigate! I bet your parents are right little Tories, aren’t they?”

She playfully slapped your shoulder. She thinks you’re friends. "Not every rich person is a Tory!” Don’t roll your eyes don’t roll your eyes don’t roll your eyes. “Is that blood on your hands?”

“Huh?” You look: faded red dye dried to your palm, blotted on your fingertips. It is dye, because your hair is as of four hours ago a fierce “Real Red”. But it could be blood. “No, it’s hair dye.”

If you think he’s being harsh, she literally calls him a slur like 3 lines after this <3 Fuck rich people half of this book is me clowning on them.

Kristen’s recurring Imagery is blood, except sometimes it’s less clear if it’s actually blood or not. Once again, besties are you okay ????

3: Junie

Junie my beloved <3 love her so much. She finds Kristen in the bathroom, and they agree to look for Tomas, until Tomas texts to say he already left. But the biggest part of this chapter is the absolute crisis she has over kissing for a girl for the first time to ABBA :)

(CW: alcohol)

[image description: a disco ball against a red-purple background. The disco ball casts dots of light against the across the ceiling. At the bottom, in a white serif font, reads: “Dancing Queen bounces against the walls. The disco ball casts specks over the ceiling, floor, walls, your skin, hair, eyes like broken glass.” /end id]

You don’t listen to 80s music, or 70s, but this room is smaller than the main floor, not claustrophobic, less freshers. Yet, even without the mask of a crowd, nobody notices the girl in the corner kissing the other girl. A girl you don’t know. You’d only gone up to her because she has purple hair and you had to tell her how much you love it - what dye is it? Professional or homemade? Did you have to bleach your hair? Professional or homemade? Will your hair fall out if you bleach it at home? If you dye your hair purple, do you become part of the Milky Way or part of Andromeda? She turns and sticks her tongue out to display her fresh tongue piercing, like a silver bullet lodged in flesh. “Dance with me, you look lost.” She has an allure to her, the Andromeda hair, the bullet in the tongue - do you want to pull it out with your teeth, or lodge it in your own skin? But she asks you to dance, and you fall into her orbit, if only for a few songs. Dancing Queen bounces against the walls. The disco ball casts specks over the ceiling, floor, walls, your skin, hair, eyes like broken glass. Her tongue in your mouth, yours in hers, bullet grazing against your lips. She tastes of vodka and cherries and metal.

I really, really feel for Junie. She’s recently out, and she’s only just navigating what it means to exist as a lesbian. She kisses a girl and immediately regrets it, because she’s a hopeless romantic and was hoping her first kiss with a girl wouldn’t be in the back of a club, but she also doesn’t regret it because it was a good kiss and they’ll never see each other again lol. Junie’s recurring imagery is glass and once again, besties are you okay

4: Junie

I don’t know how I feel about back to back POV chapters but that’s just how this set worked. The next 3 are immediately after the events of the first 3, after they’ve all left the club. Kristen and Junie walk home together, and most of this and his subsequent chapter is establishing relationship dynamics and <3 this story made me love writing dialogue y’all. This story has a lot of dark elements, so it’s really refreshing to be able to have the light-hearted moments as well. Like these characters are all going through it but they’re also Gen Z 20 year olds who grew up using humour to cope like what else are they meant to do

“We should’ve got that flat on Brunswick. It’s literally down the street from the SU - we’d just have to walk down a hill and then we’d be home.” He complains.

“Kristen, that flat had a rat problem. I saw one scurrying behind the oven.”

“Yeah, and we live with Tomas Meijer now, so what’s the difference?” He faces you, walks backwards, grin plastered on his face.

“That was mean.” You feign annoyance. You sound like a schoolteacher.

“It’s just how we are, you know. The love hate relationship. Like night and day or some shit. I’d kill for that boy but like, he’s still a rat. He’s the same to me - did he tell you he called me a malnourished ferret once in first year? In English and Dutch. Don’t even remember what it is in Dutch but he really came at me with two knives like that.”

Kristen and Junie don’t really know each other well - Junie is Tomas’ friend from class and Kristen and Tomas met in dorms, and a series of shitty housemates in second year brought them all together. It’s funny because I really worried Junie would end up with no clear place in the group and more like a third wheel to Kristen and Tomas but as I started writing I realised that her and Kristen are gonna become besties like. Instantaneously. Love this for them <3

5: Kristen

Essentially mirrors the last chapter. Him and Junie arrive home and have a heart to heart in the living room about gender <3 I love this for them <3

6: Tomas

Tomas goes home with Damiano and they hook up, which is very out of character for Tomas so it’s like his I Am So Random. I Can’t Believe I Just Did That moment. Damiano is a really sweet dude though it’s all good, but he’s here to stay and I can just tell it’s gonna get messy :/ I actually really love how this chapter came out but whilst I have no problem with reading or writing non-explicit sex scenes I’m also like a would rather die than put that on tumblr dot com oops

7: Kristen

we’ve skipped a week ahead to the day before semester starts, and the next three chapters are basically like a character study of where each of them are mentally. It’s not the best :/ This is also the point where Day 1 Of Camp me had literally no idea what I was doing. LCOMS is different from the way I pants Revelations, Revelations because with the latter I find it much easier to brainstorm scenes in my head but with this one, it really is a surprise until I open the doc. It’s created some really interesting moments though.

Kristen visits an amateur photographer friend named Kasia to model for her. I struggled to find anything that included info I’m fine with sharing, but I learnt a LOT about Kristen and his mental state, which was surprising since he’s lived in my head rent free for 8 years now. It’s messy <3 The summary: he sees himself as a mannequin, and he decides that he likes it that way, but he also doesn’t know who’s moving his joints into poses. Bestie???

8: Junie

Junie unpacks her room a week after moving in. Autistic queen <3 This is one of the unfinished chapters, and I have zero motivation to finish it because there’s a scene missing and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is. The gist of it though is she FaceTimes a friend from secondary school that definitely was her gay awakening that she only realised was her gay awakening in the last year. Messy <3

9: Tomas

One of my favourite chapters. It’s split into two halves, a light-hearted moment of all three housemates at a superstore because <3 grocery store scenes my beloved <3 and then Tomas’ Everything Is Bad exploration at the end. There’s a moment in the first half where Tomas and Kristen have a heart to heart in the candle aisle, and Tomas asks Kristen where he thinks they’ll be in their thirties. I winged this in a sprint and I’m obsessed with it, it’s all about the ~dynamic~

“Well, he has student debt for one. But that’s not on him. That’s on the Tories. But I like to think they’ll be out of power by then. Boris might even be dead, if we’re lucky. But again, not on me.” He’s quiet again. You watch him think. “He’d be a music teacher probably, or an English teacher. But like, a cool one. He doesn’t teach secondary school because he doesn’t hate himself. Maybe a Sixth Form, or even better a Uni. His students would love him because he’d be able to take a joke and also like, not hound on them for having mental illnesses or life struggles?” Neither of you look at the aisles anymore, just circle the home section of Big Tesco. “He’d also do a lot of charity work. He has a foundation-charity-thing for queer and autistic kids to get accessible music lessons, because creative therapy is like, the best thing - besides Prozac but I digress - and it’d be better than the old white men from CAMHs who act like you don’t exist by your eighteenth birthday. And he’d have a cool little flat in Sheffield where the landlord lets him paint the walls so every room is a different colour. Turquoise kitchen. Magenta Living room. Lavender bedroom. Mint bathroom.” He looks at you like he forgot you were there. “You really let me ramble like that in the middle of Big Tesco, huh? That felt like a fucking therapy moment.” He laughs a little, like he’s nervous.

“Nah, it was a good answer. Maybe if Tomas-in-his-thirties doesn’t move back to the Netherlands, he’ll rent the apartment next to Kristen-in-his-thirties.”

Kristen pouts. “Aw, you don’t wanna be my roomie anymore?”

“No, you called me an animal for eating pineapple on pizza.”

“Deserved. And you called me a malnourished ferret.”

You smile. “You’re not gonna let that down, are you?”

He smiles. “Of course not.”

Kristen tells Tomas he knows Something Happened to him over summer, and gets him to promise to tell him when he’s ready. The second half of the chapter takes place back at the house. Tomas is grieving, and it’s starting to creep into all elements of his thought. In this one specifically, he’s reminded of his top surgery and his memories in the hospital for that starts to blend with his memory of being in the hospital to grieve. Tomas is interesting as trans rep because like, he is trans rep curated for me specifically <3 Tomas was a huge comfort character for me when I was younger and when I realised I was trans, I looked at him and was like oh. He had a very smooth coming out and transitioning process (bc mine is the opposite and I need to project :) ), but right now he views his transness as like, a chapter of his life that was important but is now closed, so he doesn’t think about it a lot anymore, but the combo of grief and its mental impacts causes him to think about it more and he realises he has a very unhealthy internal relationship with his transness. Whilst the big idea at the start of Tomas’ arc is to show trans peace, I really wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the grieving process that comes with being trans. Literally the moment that made me realise “oh god, this is real and I can’t ignore it” was googling “im scared i might be trans” and realising how normal those tangled feelings are. Tomas’ experience of it is only fleeting, but I wanted to show that it’s normal. That being said, there’s no transphobia in this story. It is ultimately a Trans Peace story but also a trans story that, for me at least, is realistic. And the thoughts don’t last long, because his mind circles back to the grieving process.

(CW: graphic surgery and hospital imagery, vomit mention, death)

[image description: a darkened picture of an empty hospital room. The only light comes in through the window through thin white curtains. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “ Scalpel gliding across the chest; were the cuts they made as thin as the line between surgery and autopsy? “ /end id]

Picture this: The hospital room. Clinical lights like exit wounds in the ceiling. Everything hurts. Haven’t slept properly in weeks. Can barely eat without it coiling and tangling in your stomach only for nothing to come up when you heave over the toilet. Messy hair, sunken eye bags. Dull eyes. The hospital room. The hospital halls. The hospital waiting room. The hospital car park. The drive to the hospital. The sleepless night before the hospital visit. The locked in the armchair next to the phone waiting for the hospital to call. The silence shrills harsher than the phone’s ring. But ask yourself this: who’s in the bed? You or him? The memories are different but the same. Oil and water. Shouldn’t be mixed. But it’s hard not to. Picture the two of you on the operating table and on the metal slab. Too far from reality to feel skin slice. Scalpel gliding across the chest; were the cuts they made as thin as the line between surgery and autopsy?

There’s a lot of paragraphs in the story that start with Picture This:. I have no idea what it means, it just reads cool lmao

10: Junie

we skip around 3 weeks now to see how the kids are dealing with the start of semester and well. They’re managing! Junie actually has a good chapter here, because she experiences Baby’s First Queer Class Crush

[image description: a purple sunset with a large pink cloud. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads you notice her background is of a purple sunset. You wonder if purple is her favourite colour like you and if she took it and if she likes photography and if she’d take photos of you “ /end id]

You listen, touch type your notes without properly processing the words yet, but instead of studying the PowerPoint, you study her: how she tucks a strand of black hair - free from her messy bun - behind her ear. The three studs in her earlobe, three little gold stars. The way her eyebrows furrow when she’s confused, and the way her face relaxes when she figures it out. How she touch types like you, how her two brass bracelets jangle and how you’re the only one that hears it. She minimises Word briefly, and you notice her background is of a purple sunset. You wonder if purple is her favourite colour like you and if she took it and if she likes photography and if she’d take photos of you. Lavender polo shirt, lavender perfume. She doesn’t wear make-up, but a tiny black heart sits under left eye.

Junie’s dreams of a photographer girlfriend are quickly shattered when she admits the photo’s from Pinterest, but otherwise this is so <3 the sapphic crisis of it all.

You walk out together, and she tells you she only got into Sheffield that weekend, and it was a nightmare to explain to the tutors why. “It’s like, they forget we have lives sometimes. Lives we can’t control.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay now though, I’m here now.”

You almost trip on the stairs up to the main floor, and her hand is warm against your wrist. Your cheeks redden, but she just asks if you’re okay, smiles when you are. Tells you she’s late for a seminar, but it was lovely to meet you. Thanks again for the lecture notes. Calls you a lifesaver. Fades into the between-classes rush. You’re glad she’s here now.

again she is so <3 i get it babes i get it <3

In other news, at the end of the chapter Kristen drops the most relatable line of the entire fucking book:

“You know how like, when it rains, all the worms come out and do a funky little dance? Yeah so basically: the rain is LIT3001 right. And the worms are all of my mental illnesses.”

11: Tomas

Tomas turns 21 on October 13th so naturally like anyone in his early 20s he has multiple crisis’ about it. I still haven’t figured this chapter ~out yet but it sure exists! It just sucks the same way it sucks to be a young adult in the late 2010s. But here’s Kristen being the most relatable character in the book again and getting bullied for it :/

(CW: alcohol)

"I still can't believe you both do a science. Like, it actually baffles me - I could not be more further from that." Kristen refills his glass, measures the vodka level with his index. "Just a babe and his silly little BA against the world."

"You know if you wanna be a BA babe you have to actually, like, graduate."

12: Kristen

Kristen is personally like I will pretend my degree does not exist and honestly? I get it King. He visits his Dad, since he only lives 30 minutes away, but most of the chapter is him thinking about Tomas and their messy friendship and the fact that Tomas is kinda ghosting him despite literally living together :/ Anyway here’s Kristen’s cat :)

Mar snoozes on your pillow, half curled like a croissant. Orange fluff against grey sheets, and you’re not mad at the fur debris she’ll inevitably leave. Her head pops up when you sit next to her, “you forget about me yet?”. You scratch her head and it’s like you’re 12 again and you don’t have to worry about rent or degrees or masters applications or careers or groceries or housemates and you haze through Sundays snoozing in bed with your new kitten. Technically she was a birthday present, but dad couldn’t wait an extra month to adopt her. Said he saw it in her eyes at the shelter, that she belonged here. You named her Marmalade because you were a dumbass eleven year old and also thought marmalade was the shit back then. She stretches her legs and yawns. Plops her head back down, back to sleep. “Yeah, me too.”

13: Tomas

The next three chapters centre around each character’s Halloween, because <3 Halloween my beloved <3. Tomas’ starts off with him and Kristen being ~homoerotic and him being a ~disaster about it.

w[image description: a photo of a blue planet - Neptune - against a black background. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “You don’t know which palette he’s using, but you remember his favourite is space themed: Mars red, Neptune blue, Jupiter orange - you try to guess which planet he thinks looks best against olive. He taps the brush against the palette. Imagine the planets. How they dandelion in the air.” /end id]

When you sit in front of him, your knees press together. When he tilts your head up, thumb on chin, nail grazing the curve of your lip, his hand is ice on your skin. He studies your face, you close your eyes. When he pulls back, you swear you still feel his thumbprint on your skin. You don’t know which palette he’s using, but you remember his favourite is space themed: Mars red, Neptune blue, Jupiter orange - you try to guess which planet he thinks looks best against olive. He taps the brush against the palette. Imagine the planets. How they dandelion in the air. He holds your head in place, hand sprawls over you cheek like veins. Brushes colour into your eye socket. Underneath the radiator, your phone buzzes twice. Don’t say anything. Ignore your heartbeat.

(before this Tomas threw his phone at the radiator because someone texted him :) yeah okay mood :) )

this story is really about the ~gay disasters and also the ~dialogue

You flop onto your bed, arms crossed over your face. “I dunno. I might just print off all the emails Uni's sent me about my dissertation. Staple them to a jacket and tell people I'm going as mental illness."

"Tomas, if you want to go as mental illness then you don't need a costume at all."

Unfortunately the rest of the chapter is not as fun because plot had to happen but this first scene was :)

14: Junie

Junie is not a fan of Halloween so she gives up halfway through the night and invites the girl she met in her lecture over to bake cookies at 1am instead. Fellas is this gay?

(CW: alcohol)

The girl in the kitchen brought cookie cutters in pink Tupperware. She explains she’s had them since she was eight, but she hasn’t had a chance to use them this Autumn. She has seven: cat, butterfly, crescent moon, heart, three stars matryoshka’d together. “I have more, these are just my go to ones. I’m a bit of a collector.” She lines them up on the counter, you trace the outline of the cat. She says she didn’t want to bring too many, but she likes having the options with no plan, the potential. You want to tell her that, after you invited her over, you spritzed the counters with lavender surface cleaner twice and tucked the discarded vodka and raspberry liqueur bottles in the cabinet you can barely reach. You piled unfolded laundry into your closet and hid drooping plants behind your closed curtains when you had zero intention of her inviting her to your room. You want to ask her why she said yes, why she replied in two minutes at one in the morning, and you want to ask her why people feel the need to cookie cutter themselves into a false potential. She asks if you want to bake with coconut or chocolate chip.

she is actually such a disaster around girls i love her so much

The girl in your kitchen clears up glass that isn’t hers. You drop the measuring jug and it fireworks against tile. No shards lodge in your skin. Whilst she cleans, insists that it’s okay, you brew peppermint tea because you insist it’s the least you can do. The girl tells you a story about how she did the exact same thing, when she was nine, and her mother shrieked so loud the neighbours banged at the door a minute later. She laughs, muted. You apologise again. She insists it’s okay again. Rain hardens against the window, looks like TV static. You breathe in the peppermint steam.

The biggest thing I’ve learnt since drafting is that, at it’s core, this is a love story. And that makes me so excited because so many people, especially in mainstream media, still think that autistic people are incapable of love - or even worse, undeserving.

15: Kristen

Kristen’s favourite holiday is Halloween so naturally on his special day I had to make him go through it :) I can’t share a lot of this, but it feels right to end this beast of an update on this beast of an excerpt because it came to me out of absolutely nowhere and it is one of my favourite passages I’ve ever written OOPS

(CW: death, parental death)

[image description: a cluster of stars against a dark blue, almost black sky. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “You want to ask your dad how something can end if for you it never began, but he’s asleep in his armchair back home. You look at the stars. You wonder if any of them are her.“ /end id]

You’ve mapped Sheffield’s streets since 13 so you know you’re walking the wrong way. This isn’t the way to Crookes. This isn’t the way out the city centre. You should order an Uber. You keep walking. You stop at a crossing. There’s no cars. You don’t cross. The traffic light flashes red and bleeds on your face. The stars are out tonight, and now it’s 2004 and you’re in the lounge with Lion King in the VHS. You’re off sick and your neighbour - Mel, recently retired, recently widowed - nurses a glass of brandy in your dad’s armchair because you don’t know it yet, but he can’t afford to miss work. You’re sprawled on the dusty-red rug when Simba and Mufasa sprawl in the grass and Mufasa tells Simba that all the stars are the Kings of the past and they are watching over him. You ask recently retired, recently widowed Mel if that’s true; her smile is happy but her eyes are sad and she says “yes, and not just Kings. Nobody leaves Earth, they just move to the stars.”

Ten minutes later, Mufasa is flung off a gorge’s edge; you haven’t studied storytelling yet, but you understand those two moments are connected. And when you relay this to dad over ready made pasta that evening, you ask him if people really live in the stars: Sometimes, when they can’t live here anymore. Then you ask if they can come back from the stars: No, but people remember them. They’ll tell stories about them, so people don’t forget. Then you ask if memories and stories are like stars: A little. Then you ask why they can’t live here anymore: It’s hard to explain, Kris.

After dinner, he lets you play on the plastic slide in the garden as he scrubs the dishes. You climb to the top and try to see faces in the stars, but it’s too cloudy. And after that but before bedtime, you’re sprawled on the dusty-red rug again, and Lion King is in the VHS again, and as Simba and Nala are bathed by their mothers again, your five year old mind connects what’s different about you. You go to ask dad about it, but he’s asleep in his armchair. It’s 2018, you’re stood on a phantom street in Sheffield. You want to ask your dad how something can end if for you it never began, but he’s asleep in his armchair back home. You look at the stars. You wonder if any of them are her.

And I usually don’t do this, but I think the playlist for this wip is absolutely fucking elite, so here’s a handful of the songs that I think encapsulate the story the best:

The Wombats – Greek Tragedy

Duncan Laurence – Arcade

FKA Twigs – Two Weeks

Peach Pit – Alrighty Aphrodite

Khalid – Saturday Nights

Alfie Templeman – Stop Thinking (About Me)

Rina Sawayama – 10-20-40

If you read this far, then I love you and we shall have a platonic wedding this summer. But I cannot express how excited I am about this story and to see where it goes!

#atlastracking #LCOMS #writing update #amwriting #seriously though i have had the best week but also my brain? a fried egg #sfoidhfsdf even before the cut this post is long i hate it here #long post

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senju-sekhmet · 3 years

Text

The Leash (Part 11)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6000 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! Part two of the finale! More to go after this though as you can tell, stay with me <3 Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________

Tobirama was nothing if not dutiful. The time for your last dose had come faster than he wanted to. And he’d be there to administer it. He made sure to look more presentable before he entered your rooming using the hiraishin seal. What for, he didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter, did it? Failure was certain, anyway. Perhaps it was for decency. Or maybe he needed the moment to recover. He was too numb. Spent from the breakdown. The short minute he spent at your shared home - that already screamed mute guilt at him - to wash off his smeared facial paint and reapply it before teleporting to your room.

You were in your bed, perfectly still. At peace. Of course. You couldn’t take any withdrawal anymore, at all - your body was too exhausted. To think this was how you’d pass - a shadow of your former self, at the limit of what you could take, physically, in every sense. You had fought a gruesome, cruel battle, gave it your everything, and now? Now, it was all for nothing. The sorrow flared again in a most painful way.

You won’t even hear his words.

He wouldn't even get to say goodbye.

Dazedly he strode closer to your bed, silently wondering where Hashirama was. He’d surely be here in a moment, he barely left your side. Your condition wouldn’t allow it - although with the seals covering your pale skin, you were stable, at least stable enough to allow him to tend to other duties, briefly. So long as the withdrawal didn’t kick in. He seized the moment while it presented itself like this.

He wouldn’t get another.

His eyes prickled again as he shuffled closer to your side. Briefly, he sat down on the side of your bed like he always had done when nobody else was around - but soon, the ache in his chest pulled him down onto his knees on the floor, by your side. The tightness inside was yet expanding and stealing his breath viciously as he wheezed past his clenched teeth for more air. Looking at you - your content face, the way your chest moved evenly albeit too fast - weak maybe but alive - it was tearing him apart. He didn’t know how to even exist with the grief that was seizing him faster than a fire ate up dry parchment.

His shaking hands reached for your cold, slender one, enclosing it in his, slowly bringing it to his face as he nearly buckled over it. Already, his chakra expanded to cover your network gently, coating it, wrapping around it in an utmost tender way. Tears welled just as the sorrow overflowed inside of him, like a barrel that was full and kept being poured in. The moment was sheer agony and yet he didn’t want it to end - to let go - because that would be the end.

Very tenderly he increased the connection to examine you, briefly - you still wouldn’t respond, but that was normal. You hadn’t woken in a couple of days during what was your lucid interval because you simply were too strained - Tobirama wondered if you could at all, really. The exhaustion was too great. Still, his examination found you were no better nor worse than the last time he performed it - your body was heavily impacted by each time the withdrawal had wreaked havoc inside, particularly your lung and heart were affected. At the same time the seals steadily streamed their support into you to keep your blood pressure up, your airways free, your attacked organs functioning. Not to mention the many wounds from the torture that had not been healing as you had been fighting for dear life. There wasn’t a part of you that wasn’t affected in some way, damaged, dysfunctional - critical, but not so that it couldn’t be helped.

It was, just like they had judged, a narrow edge they had been teetering.

And now it would tilt. The delicate balance they had managed to uphold, all they had done-

“I’m so sorry,” Tobirama finally spoke, his voice but a broken, haunted whisper. The baritone wrecked by guilt and sorrow alike, entirely unlike him and yet with an utter tenderness, reserved for you and your ears only. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Tears still flowed. “I’ve given it my all, my love. I couldn’t do it. I had it - I thought I had it - but in the last moment, it eluded me,” he continued, slowly cracking more by his sobs. “My failure will cost you everything,” he was practically wheezing now. “And I will never forgive myself for it. The void inside of me won’t ever be filled.” He paused for a moment to take a few shaking breaths, stroking over your forearm as he still cradled your hand to his face, rocking back and forth on his knees now.

“Please, forgive me, for I’ll never be able to.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard the door being opened. He needn’t tune into his sensory skills to know it was Hashirama, only his brother carried the gargantuan aura about himself.

His steps froze the moment he realised Tobirama’s pose. “What are you doing?”

Tobirama didn’t move nor open his eyes. He didn’t want to break the connection with you. He’d savour every single second that he had left with you. With a numb voice, he explained the result of his last experiment to his brother, his final findings, their implications.

During it, Hashirama got on his knees by Tobirama’s side, an arm flung around him in comfort. ________

The clinking of metal armor echoed through the corridors of the interrogation and information headquarters. Two fully equipped shinobi made their way down the hall. One of them carried an odachi in front of his chest with both hands - sheathed. For now. They were given respectful nods and salutes where they passed members of the unit, but nobody questioned their purpose nor their destination. After a left turn they were greeted by a burly man with stern, pale eyes and two more members of the unit, all dressed in a black uniforms. Only curt greetings were exchanged before they descended the winding staircase down into the cell block.

Their appearance gathered attention immediately. A rumble clattered through the bleak prison, growing with each cell block they passed. They needn’t go far. It was the middle cell block where they intended to go.

The prisoner’s gaze swept up as the group of five halted in front of his cell. Recognition flashed in his gaze, followed by laughter that carried an eerie sense of finality. “It happened, finally?”

Nobody answered. The burly man unlocked the door to enter with his two subordinates. The prisoner flashed a toothy grin, aimed precisely at one of the armed shinobi, namely the one carrying the odachi. “I’ve won,” he sneered, “I’ve fucking won, I’ve told you!” - his voice was a hoarse shout in the end, strained by the pain of a broken jaw. The three interrogators made quick work of the chains that held him tightly wrapped in the middle of the cell to ready him for transportation, arms still secured and legs only allowed a minimum of movement to walk.

The two armored shinobi watched them entirely impassively, showing not even a shred of emotion.

The prisoner’s manic laughter echoed off the prison’s wall forlornly, hauntingly. An utterly broken sound of defiance only a certain kind person would have.

A shrill scream broke through the dismal setting. “You fucking idiot! I hope you rot in hell!” - the woman of the far end. Nobody paid attention to her.

The group made their way down the corridor that was only illuminated by a few candles along the way, passing the stairway they had taken down. The prisoner kept chattering. His voice carried a slight tremble now, “How did she die? Tell me, come on. I’ve never actually seen it, but I learned it’s fucking gruesome in the end,” his eyes were alight with sick pleasure.

The shinobi dressed in blue battle armor adorned with a white fur collar gripped the odachi so hard his knuckles turned white. His back was turned towards the prisoner, he couldn’t see the way his face scrunched under his happuri.

Nobody answered him.

He kept jabbering along incessantly. At some point the tone had taken on a perfectly fine frantic edge. Blubbering, almost, to himself. Eventually, they reached a door the burly man unlocked. The room beyond was dark but lit up as soon as they entered. No windows were inside, just like in the prison block, but no seals adorned these walls. This room was entirely bleak save for dark, crimson stains on the stone floor in the middle of the room.

The subordinates dragged the prisoner into that very center. With an ungraceful kick to the back of his knees, he was brought to kneel. The two shinobi stood in front of him and the man in the red armor crossed his arms. His expression was sorrowful, moved. But the taut line of his jaw and the coldness of his gaze betrayed no lightness about this situation.

“Zenji of the Stone Village,” he began somberly as the three interrogation unit members lined up behind their prisoner who now was wheezing on a low tune, his stare fixated on the harbinger of his fate. “The actions of your unit have endangered our borders, the civilians who live there and ultimately,” he paused meaningfully to take a deep breath - the stone cold tone cracked a little, pained lines wrinkled his smooth face. “Cost the life of one of our own.”

Immediately, Zenji’s mien lit up. He grinned widely, but he did not give the red-armored man another glance. Instead, his gaze was trained on the figure in blue, whose scarlet eyes were murderous as he stared him down, face framed by his happuri and finely applied facial paint. He looked spotless. Zenji cackled again.

“I do not wish for there to be more bloodshed,” the shinobi continued, entirely unperturbed by the behavior of the prisoner. “However our village can and will not condone these actions with idleness nor continue to nurture an enemy we cannot possibly ever release. Your kage,” Zenji’s head snapped back to the red-armored man momentarily. “Made clear he is not interested in an exchange of prisoners.”

The room became completely silent.

“I bear no revenge nor joy, but as the Hokage of Konoha, I’m here to tell you that you have been sentenced to death.”

The blue armored man stepped closer now, odachi still tightly clasped, but the man in the red armor raised his hand slightly, prompting him to stop and give him an irritated stare.

Zenji’s ragged breaths came wheezing so loudly they echoed off the walls as his wide eyes stared at the man, motionless besides the fight for oxygen.

Hashirama regarded the prisoner with the same cold gaze he had been wearing all the time. “Do you wish to speak one last time?”

That was his clue. Zenji threw his head back to release a long groan, each breath transforming more and more into a chuckle. A disconcerting lull settled over the room as it died down with a sense of finality and his eyes locked with Tobirama’s. “Oh, I fucking do,” he began, grinning widely. “To him. It’s my last wish.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth, giving no verbal answer. Hashirama did instead. “Very well.”

Zenji cocked his head. “Tell me, how did you fail? What part of the leash didn’t you copy? I want to know.”

Tobirama’s eyes closed slowly and his jaw worked visibly. “Anjia…,” he began slowly, his deep voice so low it was barely more than a strained growl.

“Answer him, Tobirama. A dying man’s wish should not be denied.” Hashirama’s tone left no room for discussion.

Tobirama’s eyes opened again to give Zenji a glance of sheer hatred, his nostrils flared, scarlet glare ablaze. He did not even attempt to hide the fury in his voice as he spoke. If he spat the words out any more in fact, they’d be lost in the rage. “I created a leash of my own and tethered Kimi to it. However…,” he worked hard to find the next words, Zenji’s grin widened already, likely in anticipation for the best part of the story, “... it would appear my sealing technique differs from yours, if just slightly.”

The prisoner burst into laughter, Tobirama flinched. The sheathed odachi trembled slightly from the force he held it with. “I fucking knew it! Ah,” he replied when he had gained a grip on himself again. “The seal. The master’s finishing touch. Unique, really.” Zenji wriggled his eyebrow in a manner that prompted Tobirama to bare his teeth slightly. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to copy mine. Ha!”

Hashirama cleared his throat.

But Zenji was not yet finished. “I’m not a liar though, y’know? I keep my promises,” the grin now was sickening. Gloating. Zenji cherished this moment as though he was an actor on a grand stage. Living it to its fullest. “And I promised to tell you everything once Y/n croaked, so here we are.”

Tobirama exhaled a wheezing breath as he stepped closer abruptly, Hashirama’s hand shooting up instantly to lay on his shoulder guard. “Brother, please,” he whispered, turning towards him slightly. Then the cold stare was back on Zenji. “You need not besmirch your Village’s secrets now.”

“Ah, ah,” Zenji sneered, “Why the fuck should I care? I’m as good as dead anyway, and I want to teach Konoha’s best scientist how he could have saved his oh so beloved.” His voice dripped with caustic smugness and Hashirama had to grip Tobirama’s forearm lest his brother shot forward and delivered the sentence just for these words alone.

Tobirama’s expression was one of sheer murder. His teeth were bared and the scarlet gaze alone was ready to kill a man - just like the rest of himself, particularly the large weapon he carried; the same weapon he had used many times before.

Zenji continued to live his show. “Now I needn’t explain the weaving process since you kinda copied it - well fucking done, man - but my seal - ah, let’s see. My seal is relatively simple!” Hashirama’s grip on his brother tightened as he near vibrated with lethal energy still, spurring Zenji to even greater extravagance. “Of course, it was passed down to me by the one who taught me, but I made some modifications,” he drawled lazily, an adventurous glint to his gaze.

What followed was a detailed explanation about the intricacy and yet simplicity of his own sealing process Tobirama couldn’t stomach anymore - he turned away lest he drove the odachi through the prisoner’s neck on the spot, perhaps. It was impossible to tell in the dim light - the shadow looming over his face hid his expression well and with the happuri, his profile was somewhat obscured. Only the taut stance, the clenched grasp on his weapon were telltale signs of the high-strung situation - a tight coil, ready to lash out any second.

Zenji didn’t hold back on information about how exactly he performed the seal that made the disruption stick within the leash - everyone else listened quietly. Hashirama’s mien had turned stony throughout it and the three members of the interrogation unit simply watched the man with practiced nonchalance.

“And that,” Zenjia finished his grand, final play, “is what could’ve saved Y/n. Too fucking bad.” The grin he wore was nothing short of sick. “Maybe I can tell her too, when I’m dead, hm?”, he tilted his head.

Suffocating silence befell the room.

Hashirama cleared his throat. It was time for the execution of judgement, literally. He turned his head towards Tobirama, whose back was turned towards the prisoner at this point. “Very well,” he concluded with a loaded kind of finality.

A few moments of heavy silence later, Tobirama turned around.

His head was tilted downwards slightly, shadows cast over his face.

Then he looked up.

Smirking broadly.

He lowered the odachi that he had clasped so tightly throughout all of the conversation - more like, Zenji’s soliloquy, and stepped yet again closer to the prisoner.

The smirk became smug, and smugness became condescending as skin around his mouth wrinkled in an utterly arrogant way. There was a satisfied, bright glint in his scarlet gaze. “You are without a doubt the dumbest shinobi I’ve ever encountered,” finally, he bared his teeth in a wide grin. “And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” His baritone voice dripped with sarcasm.

Zenji’s expression fell apart. His jaw hung open slightly and his gaze was wide as he tried to process the change of demeanour in who he deemed by now his arch nemesis. “What the fuck?”, he spat out finally when Tobirama didn’t speak again.

He simply clicked his tongue sympathetically and arched both eyebrows. “Y/n is not dead. In fact, thanks to you, she will live.” Both relief and caustic smugness were tangible in the way he worded this, no doubt basking in the moment of figuratively crushing Zenji under his heel. Who still didn’t find the words to answer yet, but Tobirama was more than happy to supply him with more fodder. “Certainly, time was running quite short - almost, imagine, almost - you could’ve won.”

Zenji’s jaw trembled beside the pain that must cause him alongside the rest of him. The man still hadn’t found his words again.

Tobirama wasn’t done with the verbal execution, however. “I truly did not know how to copy your seal after creating my own.” A slow nod, his baritone voice now came rolling smoothly, “And then it occurred to me - why not use your petty thirst for revenge for Y/n? All it’d take was make you believe she died. And here we are,” a smile spread over his lips again. “You delivered perfectly.” Then, he had the audacity to give Zenji a single pat on the head as though he was praising a dog.

The prisoner recoiled from the touch as though it was scalding hot. “Fuck you!” he screamed from the top of his lungs, nearly tipping over from his kneeling position, had it not been for Ikuro’s hand shooting out to secure him by the shoulder. “Rot in fucking hell, Senju!” he howled, but it was no more than a little bandaid for the hurt pride.

Tobirama already turned around to Hashirama, any trace of smugness or gloating gone from his expression. “I’ll get to work. Thank you, anija,” he dipped his head slightly. Zenji was still shouting profanities at him, but it was no more than a background noise.

Hashirama smiled broadly, much more like himself. “Of course.”

Tobirama turned back to Ikuro and his subordinates. Now, he actually took a slight bow. “And thank you, too. There still is little more to be done, but I’m very grateful for your support.”

Ikuro had already wrestled an unruly Zenji off of the floor, but the burly man wore a wide grin. “I - no, we will be expecting you. Right, Zenji? Come on, let’s get you back to your compatriots. They’ll be glad to see you again,” he finished with a dangerous chuckle.

The sounds already drowned out as Tobirama initiated the hiraishin seal teleport to the laboratory.

You only had a few hours left.

_______

You were suspended in sweet nothingness.

You had been for a while really, perturbed only by occasional nightmares. They were dim and far away, visions of what had been. Maybe. You weren’t sure anymore.

It hadn’t been like this before. Before, your world had been on fire. You had been on fire. Being burned from the inside out and yet too powerless to scream out your agony at the world. Something - someone - had chained you up in the nothingness with no company except your torment that you suffered through, over and over again. Until it faded, and the nightmares came. You laughed about those now. Then, all was calm. For a while.

Your reason for going through all this was becoming but an abstract concept.

Until you weren’t even sure anymore what might be happening. Dimly, you remembered your strength leaving you - waking up was getting harder, eventually it was tantamount to the one armed climbing exercises you used to steel yourself with. You actually had been able to pull off something like that?

Tobirama had been by your side every waking second. His face; you’d never forget the expression. Never before had you seen him haunted by distress of this kind while his chakra warmly embraced you, while he comforted you - telling you he was working hard. You had wanted to comfort him in turn, then. He needed it more than you - he hadn’t looked fine. Drawn, worn out.

Unwell. Sick, almost.

Things must be looking very bad, you knew then. It reminded you why you went through all this. But you all were losing the fight, it seemed?

No matter how much you fought, how badly you wanted to - during the phases in which you weren’t suffering from being burned alive nor haunted by nightmares, you couldn’t wake anymore. You wanted to. So badly. But your eyes wouldn’t open and ultimately, the darkness was your lonely repose in which you anxiously waited for the next time the fire began to light up again.

But that had been fading. The fire’s burn was becoming shorter. And your consciousness was slipping more. Sometimes, you thought you felt Tobirama’s presence, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Eventually it was just you and forlorn nothingness with the occasional nightmare.

Had you died?

It changed. The fire returned once more - and this time, this time it felt as though you were burning away. Not like before - when it burned you out until someone snuffed out the flames - now, it consumed your very being. It became so great at some point, pain was all you were - nothing besides the scorch of the fire that ate you alive.

You realised then, this must be it - every moment more of you faded and the pain kept on roaring through every single cell of your body. But you - you were becoming duller and duller. You didn’t want to. Not yet - this wasn’t how you were going to go down, was it? Yet the promise of eternal rest after this, all of this pain - it was alluring. After all you’ve been through, was there really a point in returning?

Tobirama would choke you personally if he ever caught on to these thoughts.

But he’s not here, is he?

You were all alone.

Ready to go. You had fought, you had tried, you had walked the road to hell many times over but eventually even your stamina would forego you.

Except they didn’t let you go. Something - no, someone was holding you back. Any time you were dipping into the part of darkness you just knew there was no returning from, there was a pull. It was forceful, unpleasant - a jolt that might have spurred your heart to keep on beating, your lungs to draw air and each organ of your body to keep on functioning.

You wanted to reject it.

I don’t want to, anymore. I can’t. I just can’t. It hurts too much. Please.

They didn’t let you.

You wanted to cry.

You were suspended in nothingness by titan chains that forcefully kept you right on your very own pyre while pain was becoming you.

_______

He didn’t want to take any chances. But he didn’t have time, either. Tobirama had no choice but to follow the information Zenji had given as dutifully as possible and hope this was it - that the bottle of leash he had crafted was identical to what Zenji would have produced. Really, it was an all out move. His back was against the proverbial wall while yours lowered more and more into a coffin.

You were going into withdrawal again, and he knew what that meant.

Never before had he woven the leash this fast - frankly working with a larger quantity of base substance seemed to make the whole process easier, and yet at the same time more demanding. Not that he felt any of it, he was focusing entirely on getting this done as fast as possible. Once he was satisfied with the result - enough to give it to you that was, which was about the highest standard he could think of - he teleported straight into your room.

Where his brother was bent over your sweating, and shaking body as his palms glowed lightly.

The rattle of your breath - Tobirama knew it well. He had heard it many times before.

A dying person’s breath.

“I’ve got it,” Tobirama whispered as his heart spasmed alongside your flat rasps for air. Blood rushed in his ears and ice-cold through his veins. He struggled to keep the floor under his feet as he staggered closer swiftly. He wouldn’t lose you now. Not after all this, not with the solution to your demise in his hands.

Hashirama didn’t even answer him; his expression was wrinkled by deep concentration and a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Numbly, Tobirama plucked the vial with Zenji’s - his - leash from his pocket and effortlessly opened your mouth. Your skin was icy to the touch and so pale, were it not for your faint chakra signature, he’d have thought you dead already.

The image branded itself into his mind, scarring him forever.

He poured the leash in and tilted your head back so it’d run down your pharynx, giving your scalp a trembling stroke with his hand.

With prickling eyes, he moved to bend over you, place his palms on you as well to assist his brother in healing - no, in keeping you alive. As soon as he established the connection needed for examining and healing, the reality of your condition rolled over him like a boulder. Your body’s reaction to the withdrawal was as violent as ever, just like the substance that was causing it. A proverbial bushfire that had spread throughout all of you. Hashirama wasn’t just stabilizing you alongside the seals - he was taking aggressive action to keep you alive. There wasn’t a part of you he wasn’t actively pouring his own chakra in to keep on working. Were it not for him, you’d be long gone already - in his brother’s chakra’s embrace you’d stay alive, barely, so long as he forced your body to keep on going, and going. Tobirama was positive you were well beyond what you could take any more in terms of another person’s chakra.

The alternative was you dying.

It was another problem they’d deal with later. Swiftly, he began to assist his brother to split up the efforts evenly and try to keep you alive to the best of his abilities.

The next moments felt like an eternity.

Work. Work already. It was all Tobirama could think of while his chakra bolstered your failing heart to keep it on pumping, wound through your lungs into the tiniest alveoles to clear them of fluid and repair tissue damage so that you might breathe.

Just work.

Agonizingly slowly, the drug was taking effect. Already, your chakra began to clog, freeze - the muting component hit your network exactly like the leash would.

Tobirama thought time and his heart both froze in the next few moments that surely decided your fate.

The withdrawal’s flame died down and fizzled out as though water had been poured over it.

Time was starting again.

He started to breathe once more. Before he realised it, he sank to his knees at the side of your bed. He couldn’t focus any more, he barely felt the wheezes that escaped him as a few heavy sobs wrecked his torso.

He had done it. Finally.

The oppressing feeling of time running out - the rock that had been crushing him was lifted.

But the elevation did not last long.

Reality - the parts that weren’t circling around the fact you were at least not going to die due to a lack of the leash - very quickly yanked him back to the situation at hand. Already, he dragged himself up again to aid Hashirama once more, who had not once broken focus. They had stopped the destructive withdrawal, true enough; but the damages it had wrought were not gone of course. Swiftly he gathered himself to concentrate back on aiding his brother in keeping you alive, really, a task no less dire than before. Rather, it was time to tip the scales into the opposite direction now.

He couldn’t say how long the two of them sat in silence, simply forcing you to keep going by continuously pouring their chakra into you.

He wouldn’t lose you - not now, not after everything you both had gone through.

He wouldn’t let you go.

Bit by bit, your body started to function more and more on its own - requiring less of the forceful aid both brothers were providing. That wasn’t to say you were becoming stable at all - tentatively, Hashirama would nudge Tobirama to withdraw some, only to watch you relapse quickly.

As it was, your condition remained critical.

Some time later, his brother allowed himself a momentary almost-break. Hashirama hummed deeply. “She’s well into chakra overload now,” he announced somberly, gazing at your face. “However we can’t stop yet.”

Tobirama’s attention was still mostly turned inwards and towards you as he did the brunt of the work so his brother could catch a breath. There wasn’t a part of you his chakra wasn’t aiding in some way; all he managed was a brief grunt of agreement.

Effectively, chakra overload wasn’t much different than a late allergic reaction of the body to the procedures a medic nin had performed. The extend of what a patient could take and experienced varied from how well-versed the healer was - and Tobirama knew his brother’s skills to be capable of healing fatal wounds without sending the person into overload - but your system barely had been able to catch a break from the agonizingly long time of capture, torture and what effectively just served to keep you alive for more torture. And then of course, all that had followed back home, in Konoha.

But what they had been doing to you for who knew how long?

That was as good as keeping defying death itself.

Hashirama sighed deeply. “I suppose we have no other choice anyway. The next few hours will be decisive.”

An ice-cold shiver ran down Tobirama’s spine, disrupting his strained focus momentarily.

Of course. They couldn’t keep on going like this forever - and neither would you endlessly, readily respond to what they did.

Either you’d start pulling your own weight again, or…

Tobirama swallowed heavily.

Silently, Hashirama’s efforts picked up again alongside his own to stabilise you.

_________

Tobirama had thought weaving the leash was about one of the most straining things he had done. But like so often these last few days, he had been wrong - cradling your very life with his proverbial hands was wrecking him a lot more for numerous reasons - the least of which was the exhaustion setting in.

Because if one thing was keeping him going, it was his determination - he wouldn’t, he couldn’t lose you, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, they had begun to lessen the intensity of the aid they provided and watched whether you relapsed into a more severe state or not. If you did, they settled back to the previous level - and waited again. A tedious procedure, but there was no other way.

Eventually, the time you managed without any aid from him or Hashirama had increased substantially - naturally, the seals on your body still were working strongly, though.

Both were now standing next to your bed, an eerie silence had filled the room, save for your flat, strained breaths.

Hashirama spoke first. “I don’t want to say this is over, yet,” he announced somberly. His mien was drawn, tired. His brother had his limits - keeping someone alive for hours pushed even him. Something told Tobirama he still could have kept on going, though. “Though we will watch now. Her overload is very severe. If she makes the next hours well enough…” He trailed off, giving Tobirama what best could be described as a sad glance.

Tobirama didn’t know what he felt anymore. In these last hours he felt just about any kind of extreme emotion - utter heartbreak, loss, sorrow, murderous fury, followed by exhilaration, followed by despair, topped off with numbing focus.

Truth be told, he could sleep while standing at this point. And yet at the same time, he was restless. He knew - he knew, just a bit longer. Just a bit.

He swallowed heavily. “Alright.” His gaze was locked on your gaunt features still. “We should keep her sedated,” not that he believed for a second you’d be anywhere near waking anytime soon. “There will be no more withdrawal challenges. We’ll keep her chakra locked and use the seals to stabilise her until the overload fades.” Perhaps he was just convincing himself this would work, too.

Hashirama hummed in agreement. “Frankly her weak state may be advantageous. She’s too weak to have much of a too severe reaction now, I believe.”

Tobirama’s gaze flickered momentarily to his brother, then back to you. He hadn’t considered that angle. Then, he sighed deeply. “The irony,” he muttered finally.

A low chuckle was the answer, which irritated Tobirama slightly. However his brother’s gaze bore an honest kind of appreciation he always had a hard time spitting sarcasm at. “Either way, I’m hopeful she’ll make it. You’ve done it. The plan was… daring, but.” He shrugged.

He could only give a curt snort in reply. “I regret not having used my enemy’s pettiness and thirst for revenge for Y/n’s advantage sooner.” The solution had been so obvious when it revealed itself to him in what had been the darkest hour of all this fight. When he had crumbled by your bedside with his brother by his side. He frowned then. “Although it made the show most… credible.”

Hashirama’s mouth formed a thin line again as he nodded. His brother might not have fallen apart like Tobirama did, but his reaction had been just as intense. And just like Tobirama, he had been ready to protect you with any means available. Using his position for a mock execution was nothing difficult. “Now to find a cure.”

Tobirama sighed again and crossed his arms. Luckily, time wouldn’t be pressing him this time. Although he had not spent a single second on the matter, either. “I first will create the leash in such a way Y/n doesn’t need to suffer the psychotropic effects of the base substance anymore.” His baritone voice was firm. With the weight off of his chest, the protectiveness was filling him again. You were not going to suffer any more than you had. And he knew precisely how to make that happen. “It’ll just be medication she has to take regularly.”

Again, his brother hummed affirmatively. “Very well. Even so…,” he frowned then, growing quite stern. “You are going to sleep now. For about a day or three.”

Anger flashed through Tobirama faster than he had truly comprehended the words. “Anija, I will not-”

“Yes. You will.” Hashirama crossed his arms. “You’ve been awake for, what? Forty-eight hours? More? Don’t make me throw you out.”

Tobirama’s voice had risen in volume before he realised it might disturb you, but the ire stewing inside made it near impossible to keep it down. “I most certainly will not before I made the drug more bearable for-”

Something flashed in Hashirama’s eyes. One didn’t need Tobirama’s sensor skills to feel the surge in chakra that his brother emitted - but for him, it was like staring into the sun. Sometimes, it was too much. Like right now.

He yielded with no more than a curt “Alright,” before teleporting to your shared home.

Now, it didn’t feel so forlorn anymore.

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

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