#the bit where she screams about her murder plot in front of her family

[kindlythevoid]

I finished AC: Odyssey and the amount of RAGE I felt when watching the after-credits was UNREAL.

(Please be warned, there is a very long, angry, slightly incomprehensible rant underneath. Proceed with caution.)

Like, not even touching the fact that Kassandra put Herodotus’s manuscripts in the LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA (which made me super mad about the burning of the Library which means that she put it there for NOTHING and his writing is GONE and it makes me EMOTIONAL)

Okay, so I touched on it a little.

But other than that, seeing the little bit at the end? The little “Kassandra’s journey continues in AC: Valhalla”??? Unreal. Absolutely not. I get that she’s immortal (a lie; I really, really don’t and did not appreciate that story line because of the fucking plot holes that gives the rest of the series but it’s fine I’m fine I’m ironing them out as all angry fanfic writers do) but dear lord why is she in another game??

Okay, I have taken a second and reviewed my words. Allow me to rephrase.

I actually really like Kassandra. I think she’s great. I can deal with her outliving everyone (which she DOESN’T DESERVE) and fucking about like the world’s greatest cryptid (srsly do they explain why she never got in contact with the assassins when she so CLEARLY adopted their weapon-of-choice and are aligned in the same damn cause?). Part of me is rubbing my hands together and cackling at all the sand this gives me to play with in the sandbox of canon. Another part of me is screaming and bashing pots and pans together in front of Ubisoft.

Kassandra showing up in another game? Incredible. Fantastic. Start filling in those plot holes immediately. But also? Valhalla is a separate game. (I have my own rant prepared on what I’ve heard about the game, but that is for another day and when I have actually completed the game and have a legitimate soapbox to stand on.)

Please, please inform me if Ezio or… someone? Some other game has an end credit scene with “their journey continues” after everything?

Maybe I’m not the target audience. Maybe I’m too happy with plot to be in the AC fandom. But, dammit, this is where you go to when you want to scream about your opinion and by golly who ever made it this far is going to hear it.

Like, okay, I felt so tired when I saw those words. I was taken right back to the MCU (which I love and adore) and just felt tired. The MCU, at the moment, is churning out, approximately, a fuckton of content at lightning speed. Usually, I can wrap my head around it and move on. But they are leaving no time to digest, very little time (imo) for me to settle into a character and form a connection before the next show/movie/short comes out! And they’re rushing (imo) after COVID with movies that can and should be, I don’t know, pushed back or reviewed or something.

However, I’m deviating a little bit. Sadly, not enough. Because I see those words in Assassin’s Creed, my little comfort murder video game who brought me into the bubble of video games that I didn’t leave and got me attached to these characters, and I am filled with… not even dread; I’m just tired of it.

Like, okay, you start a game with an assassin and Some Guy who happens to be his descendant. Okay, cool. Next game, you introduce another guy, sprinkle references to the first guy, and give the descendant some quirky friends. You then build on this group of people for the next two games (totaling four at this point) before introducing yet another family through the same guy. Then you kill the guy. It is a big, emotional scene, presumably with some implications and effects (affects?) and what-not. But the family stays. The next game, the family stays. But you waffle between protagonists for no less than four games. But at least everything is entwined!! At least you’re going after Juno, the quirky friends from earlier show up and help, everyone gets a sad fun reference through the games.

So then you start over.

You are over ten games into this franchise and you start over. To be fair, it’s with a new protagonist and it feels right. It’s a good decision! It pulls things more mythologically, but it works. Presumably, you’re setting things up. And then you bring up Atlantis. And you introduce an Isu. And there is very little progress in the modern world, even though (again, as far as I am fucking aware) there is a humanity-hating Isu in the internet probably fucking things up for people.

And after all of these games, which focus on death, dying, and the permanence of said death, you make one of the characters immortal. Like. Good sir, are you well? And then you tell me that this immortal character, which throws quite literally everything that was built up over ten-ish games into question, is showing up in the next game. No, no, not showing up, continuing her journey.

There are a few instances that will probably be brought up if anyone has really strong feelings against me disliking this.

Ezio had three games, why does it matter if Kassandra shows up again? Because!! This isn’t!!! Her game!!!! If this was Odyssey 2: Electric Boogaloo, so be it, go for it, very excited for you, honey, you’re doing great. But this is Eivor’s game. As in, about Eivor and their journey.

Well, what about Altair in Revelations? It’s basically the same thing and you liked that game? Yes, I did like that game. I liked it very much. But Altair had something going for him that Kassandra does not. Altair was dead. So very dead. Extremely, extremely dead in a way that does not effect Ezio in any way, shape, or form except as someone to be studied and put to rest. Kassandra? Alive. Very alive. Able to make active changes to her environment (and then they fucking killed her as soon as we figured it out, I swear, Ubisoft, I swear—).

Alright, well, Conner Kenway showed up in Liberation and he was living and breathing? Yeah, as a celebrity guest star. He lead Aveline around, helped her kill some people, stood around awkwardly in the snow, and called it a day. Like, if that is all it is, then my problems are zilch. You can ignore this whole rant and sit smugly with the knowledge that you have a good told-you-so ready as soon as I finish Valhalla. But dammit you don’t phrase things like Marvel if they only make a guest appearance (and if that is a thing, then shame on you. Keep the surprise).

I would like, as a fun change of pace, for game plots (if applicable) to be thought out. Just a little. Maybe even, and this is where I get ‘em, connected. I would like to see wtf Juno is up to at the moment. I would like to see Shaun and Rebecca again. I would like a tangible plot that connects all of the games and characters together in a way better than aesthetic.

But, again, that is more my personal grievances with the modern missions that needs it’s own angry rant.

Kassandra, sweet murder darling Kassandra, is really trying my patience here. Ideally, I play Valhalla, find out that the Abstergo and the Juno storylines were picked up, Kassandra shows up for a hot minute before fucking off to who-knows-where, and this whole rant is for nothing. Heck, I’d take one of the three at this point. Because, and I think I’ve tagged it now, I’m interested in their independent journeys.

Now, admittedly this gets a bit sketchy when talking about the Assassins. They’re like Batman. Everyone thinks they work alone until you look behind them and there is an army of adopted/blood family backing them up and doing their own thing.

AC1 is about Altair’s redemption. It’s also about Malik’s long hard road to forgiveness. If you really want to dip deep, it’s also Maria’s break-out role and Al Mualim’s descent into madness. Ezio’s trilogy is the rise of the Italian brotherhood and Ezio’s quest for vengeance, justice, and knowledge respectively. You can also find his mother and her dealings with grief, Claudia and her own coming-of-age story, as well as Leonardo’s grappling with the outcomes of his inventions. AC3 was about Connor’s work-life balance as he pursued vengeance and protecting the colonies through helping the revolution and his own little homestead. It was also intertwined with Achilles coming to terms with all of the death that preceded his life with Connor.

I could continue, but I think you get the point. My point is, these stories were all about the individuals, their own personal journeys through grief and heartache and morality, as well as their affects (effects?) on the ones surrounding them, the ones closest to them. By introducing Kassandra into Eivor’s tale, it takes away some of that individuality.

Kassandra already told her tale. (Hell, you fucking picked her tale out for her. But that is a can of worms I’ll explain later.) This is where the torch gets metaphorically passed and Eivor learns their own lessons. While these games are very much stab/slash/kill games, they are also about the meaning of choice and responsibility (especially when dealing with death). They push that these moral lessons are something that should be experienced and carefully examined by each individual.

And quite honestly, as long as Kassandra doesn’t get in the way of Eivor’s lessons? If Eivor gets their own tale, their own emotional journey, without clashing with Kassandra’s? Then, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be happy seeing my favorite misthios running around a different time.

#so that was long #And yes I know I’m late for ac odyssey #And I’m bound to be later for valhalla #But I was feeling feelings and decided this was the best way to rant about it #should I tag spoilers? #The game’s been out for how long now? #Idk I guess the tldr is I miss my boys (and Evie and Aveline and Shao Jun and Maria and Claudia and—) #like when I tell you I got emotional over the collage sequence at the end of the cult killing storyline #i got emotional #but I love Kassandra and Alexios sibling duo #Little disappointed that Deimos didn’t have a snake but I’ll live #just yelling into the void #assassin's creed #assassin’s creed odyssey #asasassin’s creed odyssey spoilers #spoilers #assassin’s creed valhalla #kassandra of sparta #ac eivor #altair ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #aveline de grandpre #ac juno #shaun hastings #desmond miles #rebecca crane

[acedia-blankly]

SPOILERS FOR SHARP OBJECTS EPISODE ONE AND THE NOVEL/PLOT IN GENERAL BELOW THE ASTERISKS, WHICH ARE Y'KNOW, GILLIAN FLYNN TYPE SHIT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

****

This is a liveblog/reaction to sharp objects, the tv series not the book.

I've read the book several times over the years, most recently in a mental hospital after a breakdown. No, I don't know why on earth I was allowed to have it with me. I relate to Camille more than I'd like, excluding the murders and sexuality, which i suppose rather differentiates us. I rather feel like the metaphorical AC to her DC, so to speak.

Jesus, Camille's a wreck. A severe alcoholic sent to her hometown to sniff out a story of a serial killer whose snuffing out little girls and dumping them around town, with about a year between killing. First Ann Nash then Natalie Keene, and Camille sticks her nose in everything she can about the case. She badgers the cops, the families, everything and everyone she can, which causes more than a few arguments and a lot of strain with Adora, her mother and the employer of much of the town. I'll talk more about Camille in a bit, but first lets touch on her family, the people I found msot interesting in wind gap, starting with her wonderful mother.

Fuck, Adora's a miserable shrew of a woman. She reminds me of my aunt in how she needles, dresses, and wears her makeup in a similar manner. It's freaky, and not at all helped by the horrid way she treats Camille and Amma. Equal parts infantiziling and infuriating, her actions suggest a social diva who commands utter control of her home and social image. Everything from her picture-perfect house (mirrored in a certain dollhouse that Amma shows Camille) to the time capsule she's made of Marian's room screams "total control freak". She's still got the empty IV stand and doll dresses laid out like Marian's just stepped out for tea, rather than ashes.

Amma is... Well, we haven't really gotten much of a taste of her yet. I must've missed her in the crowd of teenagers that raided Natalie's shrine, but she was there, and later acts eerily possessive and close to Camille in what seems to be just a typical teenaged attmept to avoid punishment and look cool in front of an older sibling she doesn't know.

Alan was a surprise, since all I remember of him from the novel is a grey, unemotive man who let Adora run roughshod over everything. He's got a bit of a spine here, actually standing up to Adora a few times on minor arguments. Curious to see if he'll keep it up. Not a change I was expecting, but I could also be misremembering him.

Marian: for a dead girl, she sure takes pride of place in the story, a throbbing, aching wound that Camille tries and fails to treat with chemicals and years of avoidance. A sickly girl who died in her teens, we see flashbacks of her (dressed as a doll in contrast to her sister) ending with her funeral, where she's wearing a shade of pink lipstick that really doesn't fit her, which is as good a bridge as any to return to Camille.

Camille: if you've made it this far, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Camille is a woman one step away from the deep, and she clearly knows it. There's alcohol soaked all over her life like a bad stain, mostly absolut vodka, a cheap brand that many serial alcoholics drink, my family members included. Shit burns like fire goign down but she chugs a good sized plastic flask/bottle of it without flinching. Granted, Amy Adams was probably just drinking water on set, good considering how fucking hot sets get. She delivers a wonderful performance, showing Camille as the slowly burning train wreck of ptsd and chemical dependency she is, covered in scars.

Camille carves words into her skin much more legibly and widespread than I've ever managed, and I'm a human charcutierie board these days. Y'know that thing where shows put the title of episode into somehow? Yeah, Camille's got "Vanish" on her right forearm, the title of the first episode. We see her in the bath or shower a lot, actually, usually with her body submerged entirely. She also masturbates during a flashback to a weird lodge filled with porn and bloody strips of meat, at least that's what I think those were.

I haven't really touched on the mystery or the people of wind gap not related to Camille because they didn't really get my attention, but I took 3.5k worth of notes during episode one, and noticed the homophobia. The show really hits us over the head with the small town bigotry throughout the episode, from the bartender to the father of Ann Nash. I'd kinda forgotten about the level of homophobia, and was a bit startled by it.

Moving to the murders, we don't get any information about either body I think, just a shot of Natalie's dumped body, which, how does one dump a body of a teenaged girl in an alleyway in a small town and not be seen? Small towns are nosey as shit, I would know, I spent 13 years living in one. Natalie's mouth has a lot of blood coming from it, and she's pretty dirty, but has a bandage on her knee. Bit of an odd thing for a murderer to give her, but she might've had it before she got grabbed.

Overall rating for the episode: 4/5 stars so far, review may change after I finish the show. I intend on one episode a night. I enjoyed Camille and Amma's interactions, found the homophobia rightfully irritating and familiar (the joys of small-town America are not so different from Missouri to Indiana), but found the actual murders to be lacking in detail for now, which makes sense but is also frustrating. Camille is just a bit too familiar for my comfort, which is a theme with anything Flynn's made.

Her works are dark and slippery, rich with the quiet tensions of dysfunctional families and buried traumas that always come to light. Theres something comforting but revolting about it, like sitting down at a seedy bar and knowing the drinks are probably watered down, but accepting the rotten deal for what it is because it's the best you'll get here. Kinda like a family reunion, actually. But uh, I don't think the Crellin-Preaker bunch (now that would be a sitcom, huh?) Is the sterling example of family by any means. Still, I'm eager and afraid of the roller coaster to come. I'm not claiming to have perfectly watched this episode, nor did I exhaustively go through my notes for this (I'm not confirming whether or not I made quotes in Chicago format [the one True and Rightfully Used Format of Quotation, may all nonbelievers perish in the trenches of MLA and APA format] for fun. Cause only weirdos do that, right, and I'm all normal-like)

P.S. I apparently called Curry a "Santa-wannabe" in my notes. He kinda twisted and turned in my opinion, going from a dick to a nice guy and back again, but I enjoyed him as a character and want to see more. I can't say more for chief Vickery, the detective (whose name I managed to miss and I don't intend to look it up) or the bartender, all of whom have a machismo and swagger that clashes poorly with Camille in different ways. Vickery cares more about the town's reputation than potentially solving the murders, the detective is trying not to mix business with pleasure with Camille, and the bartender is typical small town trash, gleefully hateful and all too happy to share that he's illegally serving beers to Natalie's brother, which the detective ignores as well, for some reason. Most likely to avoid the town turning on him. One doesn't fuck with the guys who give out the alcohol.

#liveblog #sharp objects #spoilers #sharp objects spoilers #canon typical topics #marking this mature and calling it good tag wise #ya know what yer in for #or google is free #theres lotsa trigger warning list sites out there #ya gotta curate your own online experience

[spellbcok]

𝐇𝐖𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝟏𝟓 : plot call ( for my sanity i'll make a separate post related to starters ). i won't be dropping any on-going threads, nor will i begin anything new or post any non-headcanon memes until after the event. but feel free to do so on your end. hit the heart and i'll message you for event related plots. under the cut are basic ideas of where my muses minds are at and whether or not they will be involved in any way.

for all muses: i'm up for any or all of my muses getting injured or injuring others (purposefully or not).

anya jenkins: self-preservation will kick in almost immediately. they will be hiding or seeking out someone she has gotten close to who are more fit for combat. most likely, though, they'll be trying to find a way to get the hell out of dodge as it's very much their mo.

ji euntak: she will be out there, jumping in front of swords (metaphorical or literal) aimed at friends, family, strangers. basically willing to save anyone, the self-sacrificial type that she is.

lorelai gilmore: being an extremely privileged upper middle class woman whose biggest hardship was being a single, teen mom (which, granted, was difficult), this will be her first experience with such violence outside of watching it. but mama bear instincts will kick in and she'll be doing whatever it takes to search for/protect rory.

lydia martin: her banshee abilities are really going to go haywire. she'll be drawing strange pictures, finding dead bodies, and maybe have her first scream / wail ? outside of trying to deal with that, she is also part of the fbi so she'll be working out who the killer(s) is/are. definitely would love for her to find bodies as it's kind of her thing, but obviously would not be something we'd know at this very moment. soo feel free to just say 'if my muse dies lydia can find them' and if it happens then i'll include it in her threads and what have you.

nam onjo: she's pretty unfazed by everything and just trying to get through each day. anyone sus will be tased and/or pepper sprayed first and asked questions later. ** new addition: she sees an opportunity to make a quite a bit of money by basically being a errand person for those in hiding. so hit her up on the taskrabbit-esque app if you need some takeout delivered or more alcohol or whatever. there's an injury/death tax so it'll be pricey but at least your muse won't have to take the risk themselves!

sabrina spellman: another self-sacrificial one, but she's going to actively fight people who mess with her loved ones as well as try to figure out who the culprit(s) are. she's been practicing her magic so she'll use that for defense. and, just like riding a bike, she might spout out some more powerful and dangerous spells that could cause injury.

tatia: no stranger to death and chaos, tatia knows how to protect herself. she'll likely stay in her studio or apartment and avoid everything. maybe she'll go to some trusted people/friends because safety in numbers and all. but she is definitely not going out of her way to help anyone or solve anything.

tinker bell: tink is still learning how to use a cellphone and now she has to avoid murderers? how annoying. the fairy is not about that and will fly away from threats. possibly goad and be a little brat about it tbh. she's also learned a bit about capitalism and the whole supply and demand thing, so she'd be willing to sell a bit of pixie dust so your muse can also fly (limited, so far 1/3 taken).

**** new muses

brenda bates: she is enjoying the chaos but feigning disgust and sympathy for the victims. she is likely having a house party or attending one because she's from the 90s and that is what they do in the face of a crazy serial killer being on the loose.

one specific plot idea i have for 1 unlucky muse is for her to injure them while in her hooded mask (image). with all the chaos, her crime will just get lost in the sea of others. however, her crimes emulate urban legends so i can give you a small list or if you have one in mind feel free to send it to me.

chloe decker: she will be investigating. she is not only trying to figure out who the culprit(s) is/are but why this was happening. she's from la so she is familiar with serial murders and strange happenings. but these sudden bursts scream otherworldly doing. she would know since she has spent time with the devil, a demon, and an angel.

#hwevent15 #hw: plot call #death mention tw #murder mention tw #injury mention tw #|| if this is absolutely incoherent i'm so sorry #it's 6:30am and i haven't slept yet

[eligatovolador]

[CWs: sexual assault; murder; human trafficking; harvesting humans]

under the skin (2013)

the plot is simple enough: there are aliens on earth and they're harvesting humans.

but the film is really about what it means to be human, explored through the eyes of an alien sent on a resource extraction mission.

scarlett johanssen plays the bait whose role is to lure men back to the harvesting plant. she performs her job efficiently and tenaciously for a while, but a series of incidents erode at her conscience, eventually causing her to identify with her human form.

one of the most fascinating aspects of how this is explored is that her identification with femininity and humanity is to her own detriment. 

even as she actively preys upon men, she finds herself their target.

**********************

this is the order of events leading to the alien's self-discovery:

[NOTE: i am purposefully using she/her pronouns for clarity, but i don't think the alien starts identifying with any form of humanity or femininity until the climax of the film] first, she witnesses (and greatly compounds) a tragedy:

she is stalking a czech man who is camping on a beach in scotland. in the background we see a family with a dog, a child, a man, and a woman. after a while a drama starts to unfold in the background. the dog has gone too far, so the woman tries to save them, but the tide is too strong and she's struggles. her husband panics and follows her into the water, but she's too far away and the waves are too strong. the czech man notices and runs into the water, saving the man. but the man can't stand it and goes back in to save his wife, leaving the exhausted good samaritan on the shore. the alien walks towards him, grabs a big rock, and smashes the czech man on the head. the baby screams in the background.

hours later, the alien's supervisor/handler goes back for the evidence. once finished, he passes by and ignores the crying child, leaving them stranded on the beach to die.

some time later she's in her car with the news on. they're talking about the man who washed ashore with a missing wife and child. her face is unreadable. shortly after, she is walking down a busy street and falls on her face. she lays on the floor while passers-by ask her if she needs help. she lays there for an uncomfortably long period of time. is she embarrassed? did she feel pain when she fell? i don't think we'll ever know. she is then shown stalking a man walking somewhere at night. she follows him until she hears a large group of women. they pass her and decide to bring her along with them to the club, where the man is also headed. the audio sounds loud and muffled; she is overstimulated and confused. too many noises at once and she can't distinguish between them; a stark contrast between the quiet solitude of her van and the empty void of the harvesting plant. after entering the chaos of the club she runs away through winding hallways, leading to a quieter section of the club. while there, she runs into the man and successfully lures him back to the plant.

this is the first time she definitively shows vulnerability. hearing about the family from the beach obviously shook her, but it didn't cause her to emote. and falling on the ground in front of people was somewhere between a new and transformative experience for her; but again, she didn't display the kind of affect most humans would have. in the middle of the film she finds herself surrounded by thugs trying to intimidate her out of her van. she seems confused and a bit shaken, but drives away unscathed. this is the first time she is actively harassed by men. after the van incident with the hooligans, she is shown picking up another man from the street after asking him for directions. he is portrayed by adam pearson, an actor with neurofibromatosis. unlike the other men she has captured, he is reserved and shy, although he does steal a brief glance at her.

she has learned enough about human behavior to know that it's unusual for someone to get groceries so late in the evening, and when she asks him about it, he says that people in the community are ignorant.

she asks him if he has any friends. he doesn't.

"what about a girlfriend?" he stays silent, looking ashamed.

she asks him when the last time he touched anyone was. silence and shame again.

at a certain point she tells him that he has nice hands, "beautiful hands." and then she asks him if he'd like to touch her. she places his hand on her face and neck, and eventually she takes him to the plant.

the scene plays out as usual: she walks backwards, removing her clothing items, one by one. by the time he sinks, she is completely naked, the only difference so far.

she gets dressed, goes downstairs, and after catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror of a dark hallway, she gazes at herself for a long time.

she is then shown pulling the man, naked and alive, out of the house in a rush and jumping into her van alone.

as she escapes, he is forced to walk home naked. but the ever-efficient handler beats him to it and kidnaps him back to the plant. 

**********************

the next portion of the film is where she really begins to explore her own humanity and womanhood.

but first, i want to talk about my trans narrative theory:

i still dislike scarlett johanssen for feeling as though she can play anyone [e.g. a trans man and a japanese woman (and no, idgaf that the major has a full cyborg body)]. but regardless of this, i view this film as a trans narrative.

in this case, her character is a trans human woman.

now, i want to be perfectly clear: trans women are women, regardless of anatomy or presentation. and i have a pretty easy time identifying this particular character as a woman due to the experiences i've listed, as well as the experiences she has later on in the film.

however, to also identify her character as human feels a bit more complicated, especially since she participated in such a vile form of human subjugation. while many so-called humans have also participated in utterly vile forms of human subjugation, i think her attempt at redemption and starting a new life is what earns her the badge of human for me. now, back to our regularly scheduled programming:

she is in her van driving far away. she stops (maybe because she runs out of gas?) in a desolate area on a foggy road.

she gets out of her van and ends up in a small town diner, ordering a slice of chocolate cake. she delicately cuts a piece, puts it in her mouth, tries to chew and swallow, but quickly vomits it up. this attempt at performing a typical human behavior has failed. but there are many disabled people that can't eat regularly, so i don't hold it against her.

as she walks aimlessly through the village, she passes by a man smoking a cigarette while leaning on a rail. after she passes him, he tells her that the bus stop is, "over there." she pauses, considers the information, and goes to the bus stop across the road from the man. he doesn't bother her.

while on the bus, the driver tells her that she has on the wrong clothes for the weather: it's cold and she's only wearing a thin sweater. she looks shaken, but says nothing.

eventually, the man from the bus stop moves closer and asks if she needs help. after a while, she says she does, and he gives her his jacket. they end up going to a store together, and then to his home. he gives her a room, toiletries, and some clothing, and leaves her alone to sleep.

the next day they go to a cave. she seems scared, so he helps her up and down some narrow steps. eventually, they kiss.

i don't know if this was his game all along. but even if it was, i think she very much wanted it, as it is an expected human behavior and she has very limited knowledge and options.

they go back to his place and start to have sex. but when he tries to penetrate her, something goes wrong. she panics and grabs a light and mirror, looking into her vagina: there is nothing there.

**********************

here is where she dies a violent death:

she is next shown running away in panic into the forest. i don't know what her plan is, if she has one. maybe she went to the forest to bide her time and figure out her next steps.

either way, she runs and runs, until she runs into another man in the woods. he is 'very nice,' asking her the same questions she used to ask her prey. "do you live around here?" "are you alone?" "what are you doing walking here?" until they part ways.

she keeps walking, but seems weary of the man, unsure if he is really gone. finally, she reaches a refuge for hikers and lays down to sleep.

unfortunately, she wakes up to the man SAing her until she fights him off. she runs into the forest again, eventually reaching a 16-wheeler on the road. she attempts to drive it away, but the keys are gone, and the man turns up: it's his truck. she runs away again, but he catches her and tries to SA her again.

in the process, he ruins her skin suit.

he backs away confused.

she staggers forward, removing the suit, and revealing an almost vanta black alien body. she gazes at her scarlett johanssen mask, clearly in pain.

the man comes up behind her, throws gasoline on her, and lights her on fire.

she dies in a clearing in the woods. it is implied that the handler will eventually find her and dispose of her body due to the smoke signal caused by her burning body.

**********************

and this is why i think she dies as a human woman, regardless of her alien body.

she chose humanity. she chose to stop harvesting humans. she chose to save that man and run away, knowing that her handler might find her. she chose to live as a woman, even after experiencing some of the horrors of being female-coded in society. and then she died as a woman after being SA'd by a man.

#under the skin spoilers #spoilers for under the skin #under the skin (2013) #sexualassault #humanity #trans narrative

[thewildwilds]

Oooh, I would have thought Junko would have been Verosika Mayday (because of the whole Kamukura thing). Do you have a character in mind for her in the Helluva Boss AU? I'm loving this so far, btw, Nagito as Stolas is something I would have never thought of but it fits perfectly!

Junko is Stella!

#anh's answers #anon #the bit where she screams about her murder plot in front of her family #while being completely ignored #comedic genius #cw: helluva boss

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 18

Hello everyone! Here she is! Thank you all so much for being so patient with me and this chapter. I hope it lives up to the hype and the wait lol. I'd also like to say that I will still be writing and finishing this series as well as my other in progress ones. However, I'm currently feeling like I'm not that interested in Harry right now and I feel like it's mostly all the drama and everything going on with him right now so updates will be slow. Also I've changed my theme to a Marvel x One Direction theme because I've decided to take one of my Bucky Barnes plot and actually publish it. I'll still post Harry because of course I love him but he won't be the main focus of this blog anymore.

Thanks for waiting and reading. Hope you enjoy the chapter! X

Harry's good under pressure. At least looking from the outside in, he is. It's a skills he's picked up from boxing. Always pretend you know what's going on. No surprises, no shocks. If he's in a fight and his opponent is stronger or faster than he originally thought, he doesn't show it. Acting like it was expected, like he planned it rattles others and helps him maintain his grace.

He keeps that same approach when it comes to interviews.

Liam meets him outside the gym, waving with a bright smile that Harry just smiles at, shocked to find his trainer in the parking garage rather than the ring.

"What's going on mate?" Harry greets, trying to step around him to get to the stairs but Liam halts him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotta reporter here who wants to chat with you about recovering from your concussion and reaching the finals."

His tone is laced with hesitance, lips pursed in suppressed grimace and Harry doesn't blame him. Liam knows how much Harry hates interviews. They're his least favorite part of the job. He's here to box and get paid, to provide for his family, not to tell the world every detail of his life.

"Oh," Harry mumbles, shrugging and stepping up to the door. "Alright. Only for a few minutes though, wanna get home a little early today."

If Liam is surprised by Harry's ease he doesn't show it. "Got something going on?"

Harry follows Liam inside, nodding to Mark at the front desk. "Y/n has just been exhausted lately and Arlo can't spend a second alone without screaming bloody murder. Just want to be there to make sure she's resting and Arlo's not being a pest."

"He's your son, of course he's being in a pest."

The comment leaves too much pride in Harry's chest for him to even care that Liam just insisted he himself is a pest. Besides, Harry knows he's clingy and a little too attached but that's just how his relationship with y/n is, and they love it.

In his private locker room,Harry finds the reporter, a young girl who can't be too far out of undergrad with dark hair and a bright red lips. She's sat on the bench, a notepad on her thigh and her phone resting next to it.

"Hello Mr. Styles." She greets, shaking his hand when he approaches her. "I'm Rebecca Weese."

Harry takes a seat next to her, nodding. "Nice to meet you. I don't have a lot of time today but I can answer a few of your questions if we can make it quick." He smiles guiltily, hoping to not come off as rude.

She nods, immediately glancing down at her notepad and crossing some things out. Harry assumes they're questions she's decided aren't important enough. "Is it ok if I record this? Just sound of course."

Again, he nods, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he waits for her to begin. Tapping at her phone, she places it between them to catch both voices and then scans her notes again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you've only been boxing for a few years, right?"

Harry shrugs. "I trained a lot when I was teenager, worked under Ted until he decided to bring me up to the pros. Was about 20 I think when that happened." He tries to stay vague, knowing he can't tell the public that his "training" was an illegal boxing ring.

"Five-Six years is a short amount of time to be included in a tournament like this one. Most contenders are well into their careers before being qualified to participate. What do you think has been the main factor in your success?"

Routine question, and he's got a routine answer. "I was fortunate enough to figure out early on that boxing is what I wanted to do and I think that helped out a lot. I also got a very good team behind me. My trainer, manager, my wife, they're all the main factors in my success. I'm very grateful to have them."

Rebecca smiles a bit, jotting down a few words. "Does your wife work in the industry?"

It's her casual tone, as if she were a friend just wanting to hear him brag about his lover that has him answering so honestly.

"No she works in design but I met her early in my career and she's always supported me. Takes care of me after bad matches and whatnot, always comes to my fights even if it means being on her feet for hours. Which isn't exactly her favorite thing at the moment with the baby-"

Harry stops, eyes widening a bit at what he's just revealed. Part of him wishes desperately that Rebecca didn't hear him but he knows that's impossible.

"I didn't know you're a father," she says kindly, sensing his panic. "Do you want to talk about it more or should I scratch that part?"

He doesn't know what makes him say it. A year ago he'd have fled the room if he were questioned about his family. Harry likes to keep them separate, to keep his kids away from his boxing. It's possibly a small part of him that's conditioned to keep his work a secret from his family even if he doesn't have to. But Rebecca's offer to drop the whole topic is what breaks him.

"S'ok," he says "I've got a son that's about a year old and another on the way."

Her eyes light up, beaming at him and he grins shyly but somehow proudly at the same time. "That's awesome. Congrats. I know your son's young but does he have any part in your career? Influence maybe?"

"He doesn't watch any of my fights or anything. Too young to be around violence like that but he does affect my fighting in a way. I used to go into boxing with just the mentality that I'm doing something I love, but now I've got the added success. A win means more support for my family and I want them to always have what they need so I've got sort of an edge there."

"Like having something to fight for?" She confirms, and Harry nods immediately.

"Yeah. I'd do anything for them and I think that makes me a bit dangerous in the ring."

No matter what, he'll always be fighting for them. Everything he does is for y/n and his boys.

~

The house smalls of tomato sauce and pasta when Harry walks in, mouth instantly watering and stomach rumbling. He had a light breakfast this morning before going to the gym and now that's he burnt off all that energy he reckons he could eat a horse. Dropping his keys on the table in the entryway, toeing off his sneakers, and dropping his gym bag to the floor, Harry makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's so caught up in wanting to eat he doesn't notice the TV playing a Disney movie or the two figures sprawled out on the couch until one of them is calling for him.

"Daddy!" Arlo's head pops up over the cushions, dimples sunk into his cheeks and eyes bright. Harry immediately changes course, coming up behind the couch and meeting Arlo's outstretched arms.

"'Ello bug," Harry greets, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Arlo coos happily, curling up against Harry's shoulder. Y/n is watching them with a small smile, a hand resting easily over the stretched fabric of his tee-shirt she's wearing. "And hello darling." He leans over the back of the couch to press a crooked kiss to her lips.

"Hi baby," she sits up, smiling dreamily at him. "How was the gym?"

Harry shrugs, adjusting Arlo on his hip. "Was good. I had an interview today about finals and....stuff." Her eyebrow quirks up at his hesitancy to continue.

"What stuff?"

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Harry drops his gaze to Arlo. "You, Arlo, the baby." She doesn't respond immediately and he knows it’s because she’s trying to analyze him. He's fairly private about his family, especially his children and the only reason he'd informed the world of Arlo was to get people off his back about leaving y/n, so he knows she's probably confused by his ease with talking about the new baby.

"How'd it go?" She asks, pushing herself up from the couch with a hand on her belly. Without hesitation Harry reaches out to place his free hand over hers, moving her with him towards the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"M'starving darling," he says and his stomach grumbles in agreement, making Arlo gurgling back and nudge his foot into Harry's tummy. "But interview went well. Announced the pregnancy."

"You did?" She questions, perching herself on the counter stool with wide eyes. "Seems a bit early compared to Arlo's announcement."

Managing as best he can with one free hand, Harry retrieves a bowl from the cabinet and serves himself a heaping mountain of spaghetti. "Just came out if m'being honest," he shrugs, settling into the stool next to her with Arlo still glued to his lap. "'sides it's different this time. He was my first baby and I was scared."

He doesn't realize that she's fallen silent until he's slurping back noodles and she doesn't scold him. Curiously, Harry rotates just enough to look at her. Y/n is staring at him, eyes big and moony when he mumbles a suspicious "wha'?"

"You were scared?"

Swallowing down his food, he nods. Her intent gaze brings a blush to his cheeks and he has to drop his eyes to peer down at Arlo. "Y-yeah. Didn't know if he'd like me as his dad, ya know?"

Harry's never said those words out loud, now that he's come to think of it. Whenever something's pertained to Arlo, Harry was always the positive reinforcement, the one reassuring y/n about them stepping into parenthood. He never really told her how much it scared him because he didn't want to scare her.

"I-I didn't know that," she mumbles. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs, lifting his gaze from Arlo to y/n. "Because I wanted to be a good dad. Ya know, like the kind that can kill spiders and scare aware bad dreams.....Just wanted to be strong I guess."

He doesn't say it, but he knows she's picked up the fear he won't acknowledge. He doesn't want to be his dad. His father was great but the sad thing is, everything great about him was brought out by alcohol. Des needed that poison to combat his own fears and insecurities, and Harry doesn't want to be like that too. He doesn't want to leave his kids the same way he was left.

"Being scared doesn't make you weak Harry."

She leans over to press a tender kiss to his jaw, belly brushing against his side, and he thinks about those words for the remainder of the day.

~

Crouched down, Harry steers the shopping cart with one hand and guides Arlo along with the other one. By the way he's trudging along, Harry knows Arlo is getting tired of walking. It's good for him to practice though, so Harry leads him along for another few minutes before scooping him up in one arm.

"Did so well bug." Harry compliments, pecking Arlo's cheek. The toddler curls up into his chest, yawning. It's a bit difficult steering the cart with one hand but Harry manages, steadily making his way up and down each aisle. He gets baby cereal for Arlo, a couple bags of puffy hot Cheetos to stash in the cabinets, and he's stocking up on y/n's latest craving (spaghetti-o's and meatballs) when a familiar face rounds the corner.

Zayn is pushing a cart filled groceries, eyes scanning up and down the shelves and Harry curses under his breath. The last person he wants to see right now is Zayn. Last time they had a run in he said something that bothered y/n and Harry never wants anything to bother his girl.

In an attempt to hide, Harry pulls his hood up over his head, shrinking into his pullover and craning his neck to not make eye contact with his old friend. Grabbing a few cans of the fake pasta y/n is living off of, Harry sets them in the cart and quickly walks down the aisle. A man who looks a few years older than Harry moves towards him, stepping around Zayn and in front of Harry's cart.

"Excuse me," the man stops him, gaze dropping to the boy against his chest for half a second before regretfully meeting Harry's eyes. "m'so sorry to bother, didn't notice the little one-"

"It's fine." Harry cuts off, glancing at Zayn to make sure his back is still to them. It is and Harry relaxes a bit at that, but his curiosity grows. "How can I help you sir?"

The man smiles, grateful. "I just wanted to tell you that m'son and I are big fans and we're excited for your fight this weekend."

Harry knows he has fans, he's run into a few around the city but they're usually teens and kids that want an autograph. He's never had a grown man approach him about his career and it's odd. Flattering, but odd.

"Thanks man. I really appreciate your support." Harry says sincerely, smiling. The man nods in response, taking a step away from Harry. He moves to leave but stops last minute, turning back to Harry.

"Congrats on the baby news too." He says quickly, almost shy or embarrassed. Before Harry can even thank him, the man is rushing out a "have a good day" and then he's moving down the aisle.

Confused, Harry stands there for a moment trying to figure out what happened. He knew announcing the new baby would bring more attention to him in the media and he's not surprised that that man, who's clearly a fan, had already heard it. He is surprised that the man seemed almost scared to admit to Harry that he knows.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

He looks up, meeting the golden eyes that could only belong to Zayn. Harry doesn't even bother trying to smile at his old friend as he stands in front of Harry's cart. A lady maneuvers around them, murmuring a soft "excuse me sir." Harry scoots his cart over, smiling apologetically.

"How have you been man?"

Harry's gaze returns to it's impassive expression, glancing over Zayn's too-bright presence. "I've been good." Harry responds, moving Arlo to his other arm when he starts to lose feeling in his fingers. The movement draws Arlo out of his nap-like state, the toddler now noticing Zayn standing in front of them. Immediately his face scrunches into a look of annoyance.

If Zayn notices, he must not care because he smiles at Arlo, teeth dazzling. "That's good to hear. Congratulations on the baby, by the way! Saw the article up front. S'amazing!"

Article? Harry lips are just starting to form his question when his phone rings, the tune specific to y/n. "Sorry, gotta take this." Harry says in Zayn's direction, digging into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He hits answer before Zayn can even respond.

"Hi darling."

Harry wiggles Arlo into the basket. "Hi H. You still at the store?"

He pushes the cart down the aisle, not caring that he's left his old friend hanging. "Yeah I am. What's up"

The sound of a running faucet comes through the speaker. "Forgot to add yogurt bites to the list. Arlo ate the last of 'em last night and ya know how he is if he doesn't have any before bed."

Harry snorts, steering towards the baby food aisle. Arlo has fallen in love with yogurt bites and they've become his snack before bed. Harry thinks he shouldn't be having them every night and he'd tried to tell Arlo that two nights ago, but Arlo is a stubborn thing. He screamed his head off, ignored Harry's attempts at giving him fresh fruit instead, and then only calmed down after y/n nursed him.

"I'll grab 'em darling. No worries." He assures, tossing a couple bags of the bites into the cart. "Anything else?"

"Do we still have the old flower vases from our wedding in the garage?" She asks.

"Umm, I think so. You expecting flowers from a secret lover or something?" Harry jokes, eyes catching on a pack of bibs hanging in the aisle.

"Not unless you've got a trick up your sleeve Styles." She retorts.

He tosses a pack into the basket. "Buy you a whole flower shop if that's what ya want darling." Arlo grumbles from the baby seat of the cart, tiny fingers coming up to play with the rings on Harry's fingers that are locked around the steering bar.

"Don't worry about that, we've got enough flowers." Y/n laughs and he can hear her moving around the house. "Three bouquets just arrived with congratulations cards."

"What?"

"Guess the baby announcement was well accepted." She says. "We're getting lots of flowers for it."

Pushing towards the checkout, Harry frowns in confusion. "Got stopped by a fan today for the same thing. Can't believe it's such a big deal."

"Well you're more known now than when we were having Arlo." She reasons, and Harry hums his agreement. He passes the self checkouts, freezing when he spots numerous copies of his face on the ends of the aisle.

"Holy shit," he breathes, not even thinking about the innocent ears before him. Y/n gasps through the phone, scolding him for his language. "Sorry darling, s'just I'm bloody plastered all over the grocery store."

He reads over the cover of the sports magazine. It's got a big photo of him in the ring, gloves held up to his chin and jaw tight around his mouth guard. Next to it is a photo of him and y/n leaving a big fight awhile back. She's got her head down, hand snug in his as he leads her along. And written in bold yellows is "Harry Styles Expecting Baby #2 As He Prepares for Biggest Fight Yet!"

"They put me on the front page." He tells her, not bothering to flip open the article before he's quickly moving away from the display. "Why would they do that?"

When he did that interview, he thought it'd be a small, breezy section in the magazine. If he had known he'd be getting stopped in the grocery store and flowers sent to his house he wouldn't have said anything. As previously mentioned, he's a private guy, so having this detail projected in a way he wasn't warned about makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"It's alright Harry," y/n says reassuringly, knowing that he's become anxious at the publicity. "No harm done. It's just flowers bub and as long as we've got those vases in the garage, everyone will survive."

He chuckle weakly at her joke, picking an aisle so he can quickly checkout and go home. "Don't go digging around for them by yourself, don't need ya falling and getting hurt. I'll help ya when I get home."

"Aw my hero." She coos, and he knows she's teasing but it still makes him blush. God he loves her.

~

"Those bloody things are making my nose itch." Harry grumbles, aggressively rubbing the palm of his hand into his burning nostrils. He glares at the bouquet of peonies on the dresser, a gift from y/n's co-workers, and moves towards the bed.

Y/n is propped up against the headboard, a pair of his pajama bottoms on her legs but her shirt has been abandoned on the carpet by the bed. Arlo is attached to her hip, mouth latched to her nipple and she's stroking through his soft hair while he breastfeeds. Harry's heart throbs in his chest, warmed by the sight of his wife coddling their baby, and he's so fucking in love with her he's anxious to get Arlo into bed so he can have his way with her.

"I can't just throw them out, H." She sighs, pulling her gaze from the television to his pouty face. He huffs, running the damp towel in his hand through his hair one last time before haphazardly tossing it towards the closet. Kneeing his way up the bed, he curls into y/n's side and smiles when she tucks her arm around him.

"Stroke my hair too?" He mumbles, peering up with puppy eyes and she giggles before threading her fingers through his hair too. Arlo gurgles around a mouthful, bright green eyes opening to look at Harry. He worries for a moment that Arlo is going to get fussy and kick him away, but the toddler just blinks at him sleepily.

"Tha's ma boy." He coos fondly, squirming a hand over to pat Arlo's full tummy. Y/n giggles and continues to stroke his hair, Harry watching Arlo slowly be soothed to sleep. "Lemme get him to bed darling."

Grunting, he pushes himself up from the mattress and too his feet. Y/n transfers Arlo to his awaiting arms, swiping at the milk that dribbled out of his snoring lips and onto her skin. Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Wanna have a shag when I get back?"

A shocked laugh bursts out of her, Harry's face lighting up at the sound as his heart swells. He was trying to be a bit silly, not enough to have her eyes crinkling like that, but he's happy she finds him funny.

"Sure baby." She breathes, still grinning. His stomach flutters, excitement bubbling in his belly and he nods quickly before moving across the room.

Arlo stays cuddled into Harry's neck as he flicks on the nightlight in the nursery and adjusts the blankets in the crib. Theo watched Harry from his bed in the corner, sleepy puppy eyes following his every move. He lays Arlo down, gently shushing him when he store and tucks Bunny into his side. With a peck to his head and a quiet "good night bug," Harry partially shuts the bedroom door and rushes back into the bedroom.

Y/n has already kicked off her bottoms, leaving her naked on their sheets and Harry groans as he works to catch up with her. His shirt is playfully tossed at y/n's grinning face, Harry laughing as he wiggles out of his sweats. Naked as the day he was born, Harry jumps onto his knees at the bottom of the bed.

A laugh bubbles out of y/n when the whole bed shakes under his weight, clearly amused at how excited he is. She must be just as excited though because she quickly leans forward to cup his face, attaching their lips and bringing him back down to the pillows with her.

"Wanna be on top," he mutters into her mouth, ghosting his hand down her tummy and tickling his thumb over her clit. "f'that's ok?"

"Mmm," she hums, happily "too tired to top anyway."

Harry seals their lips together again, using his knees to spread her thighs a bit further apart for him. Her palms smooth down his sides and around to his back, a breathy moan interrupting their kiss courtesy of his fingers. Harry utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging her hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against her side. She lifts, and he settles it under her lower back and bum to prop her up. Luckily for him, he's had a lot of practice getting around a baby bump for a shag.

Settling between her thighs, Harry giggles when she wraps her legs around his hips and tugs him closer. His body hovers over hers, love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through her folds, groaning at how slick she's become.

"Don't even have to try anymore do I?" He teases with a wolfish smile, capturing her lips just as she rolls her eyes. Giggling, he leaves soft kisses across her cheek, heading towards the base of her jaw.

"S'the baby's fault honestly." She argues, her fingers disappearing into the damp locks sticking to the back of his neck.

He hums, smirking against her skin. "Is it?"

With a small tug she's pulling him back up to her mouth. "Yeah. Gets me revved up all the bloody time. I don't know what you're putting in there mister but it's exhausting."

Harry laughs quietly, nipping at her bottom lip. "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take care of ya. S'my problem after all, isn't it?"

Y/n nods, biting back a grin as Harry grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling her. Chest to chest, Harry smiles at the feeling of their stomachs pressed together as he guides the head of him into her slit.

The sigh that puffs out of her chest sends a zip of pleasure up his spine, as if she'd been partial without him and the pure relief of just having him in her is all she could ever want. Harry hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey she is for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have her this desperate for him and his touch.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He pulls his hips back, breath stuttering when he easily slips forward again.

Y/n moans softly, dropping one hand to the small of his back as if guiding him. "So so good H." She confirms in a whisper, her voice tickling his ear and he squirms with a small laugh at the sensation.

Harry's soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between them and the one sleeping down the hall. Even the kisses he places on her jaw and lips are tender, small brushes between their confirmations that he "feels so good" inside her and she was "made for being wrapped me huh?" And Harry thinks nothing ever been truer. Her arms were made to hold him, her hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and her heart was made to completely consume his.

Y/n reaches her high before him, rolling her hips up to try and quicken his but he maintains his sensual thrusts, stroking her temple as she trembles and gasps, clinging to him in every way possible. There's something about how quick she falls apart for him when she's pregnant and how utterly earth shattering it is for her, that it completely obliterates any sense of stamina Harry's ever had. He couldn't care less when he follows shortly after, grinding down into her heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in her walls. She's the one stroking his temple this time, and he knows she's watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes.

Maybe it's the lingering anxiety that washed over him at the grocery store, but when y/n kisses him and gently nudges him off of her so she can go pee, Harry's desperate as he grips her hand and pouts, practically begging when he asks "can I get back in ya after? Just to fall asleep darling?"

Of course she nods, brushing sweaty curls from his forehead to soothe him and just like that he already feels lighter. He never has to sorry with her, because they were made for loving each other.

~

"Oh fuck!"

"Would you stop being so loud! It's 8 in the morning!"

"Can't help it, darling."

Harry tightens his hold around y/n's thighs, dipping his tongue back into her slit and groaning loudly despite the warning she's already given him this morning. She tugs on his hair scoldingly, drawing a pained hiss out of him. Harry brings his teeth up to her clit, nibbling in retaliation. A pained hiss of her own leaves her lips, cut off by a soft moan as he soothes his tongue over the spot.

Grinding her hips up into his mouth, Harry can't help but push his own into the mattress and a deep groan escapes him as he does so. Huffing, y/n scolds him again for being too loud when they've got a sleeping child one room over.

"Stop yelling at me so I can make you cum." He purrs, lips brushing over her clit. Their eyes meet over the curves and dips of her body, Harry smirking when she raises a prodding eyebrow at him. He kisses her thigh just once, lapping his tongue through her slit and he's just reaching her most sensitive spot when the beginning stirs of Arlo waking up break through the baby monitor.

Simultaneous groans leave both their mouths, this time of frustration. Harry pouts, knocking his forehead on y/n's hip bone and shaking his head.

"I told you Styles." Y/n teases, stroking through his hair for a second. He can't even think of a rebuttal before Arlo is calling out softly for her, and she's pushing up from the bed to get dressed.

"Take care of that while I take care of this." She calls as she disappears through the door, snickering softly and leaving him there desperate for her. But then again, when is he not desperate for her?

~

Hey man, hope I'm not being a bother. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink Friday or something?

-Z

Harry stares at the message, wondering why Zayn would sign it when the Instagram handle is clearly him. He also wonders why the hell Zayn is trying to hang out with him now.

It's a sunny day, the air outside relatively warm for March so Harry slipped a sweater on Arlo and brought him out to the backyard to play. They're sat in the grass, Arlo between his legs as they teach Theo to play fetch. Arlo's gotten good at tossing the chew toy himself, so Harry used the free time to start clearing out the congratulations messages he's received on Instagram.

"What's the matter H?"

Harry locks his phone, tilting his head up and squinting into the sun as y/n stands over them. She's got a bowl of puffy hot Cheetos in her hand, cradling them as if they were a precious gem as she settles into the grass with them.

"Nothing," he mumbles, pecking her temple when she leans into his side. "just got a weird text from Zayn. He wants to hang out."

Crunching through a chip, she hums. "Did you know he lives here?"

She lifts up a Cheeto, offering it to him. Harry gladly takes it between his teeth, pulling it from her fingertips and crunching down on the puffy chip. Swallowing, he shakes his head.

"Ran into him at the store once around Valentine's Day," she says, eyes watching Arlo dig his stubby fingers into the dry grass. "Was trying to talk to me about you I think but your son threw a fit and I was too busy to care honestly."

"Really?" Harry asks, perking up at the idea of Arlo throwing a tantrum to keep people away from y/n. That's the only time he'll agree with such actions. "Taught him well then haven't I?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbows him. "If you're son grows up to be rude I'm going to kick your ass Harry Styles."

Laughing, he steals a chip from her, locking his phone and dropping it to the grass. Arlo, interested in the device, crawls over to pick it up.

"Wouldn't expect anything less darling." He says, reaching over to swipe his phone to the camera so Arlo can snap random pictures.

"What are you going to do about Zayn then?"

"Suppose I should see what he wants, yeah?"

Y/n shrugs but Harry can read the look on her face easily. She's always silently encouraged him to face things that need mending or fixing, and his past with Zayn is one of those things.

"S'done then," he laughs, pinching her side affectionately. "I'll figure out why he's so obsessed with me."

She laughs, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose in the way makes him want to stare at her forever. "Think it's that one he's obsessed with. Look how cute he is."

Harry follows her line of sight, smile growing at the sight of Arlo making faces at himself in Harry's camera.

So bloody cute.

~

"Are we gonna be besties? I think we're gonna be besties." Niall states, swinging an arm around y/n's shoulders. He's on his third beer of the night already and Harry hasn't even made it to the ring yet. Y/n just laughs, continuing to maneuver tape around Harry's fingers but he's not as kind.

Casting a glare at the Irish man, Harry calls out to Gemma. "Get your leprechaun off of my girl before I use him to warm up."

Niall isn't really phased by the words, only pouting softly at Harry's steel gaze but Gemma is quick to rush over and pull Niall up from the couch by his hand.

"Come on babe, let's go find our seats." She coos to him, sending Harry an apologetic smile. He waits for her and Niall to turn their backs before chuckling softly. Y/n pinches at his wrist.

"Be nice to Niall. I really like him."

"Oh you really like him, huh?" Harry huffs, nudging his knee against hers. She rolls her eyes, giggling when he slips his free hand around her waist and pulls her into his lap. "Please tell me how much you really like Niall darling." He requests, shoving his face in her neck and playfully biting at her throat and shoulder. Just as he'd expected, she giggles and squirms, Harry having to wrap her up in a bear hug to keep her from sliding right off his thigh.

"Harry! Stop!"

He laughs with her, moving up to bite at the apples of her cheeks and her nose, growling as if he were a rabid beast. His freshly taped knuckles ache under the tightness of the wrap as he grips her flailing legs but he ignores it in favor of listening to her laugh.

"I like you more! I swear!" She shouts between laughs, wiggling a hand free and gripping the back of his neck. Pleased with her words, Harry pants out a laugh before sealing his mouth to hers.

"Tha's good because I like you more than Niall too." He mumbles into her lips.

"You like me more than you like everyone." She chuckles, stroking her thumb along his jawline. Harry's eyes shine with delight, proud that she knows her place in his heart, but he still teases.

"Mmm almost darling. Quite like my son, ya know that?"

She rolls her eyes but looks at him fondly, pinching the meat of his cheek. "Cute," she murmurs, "now go get ready for your fight baby. Want everyone to see my husband's gonna be the national champion."

Her words bring a rush of blood to his cheeks (and his cock if he's being honest), but he nudges her onto the couch next to him. "Just need two more wins." He whispers in her ear, pecking her temple.

Just two more wins.

~

There's good fights and there's bad fights. Everyone knows that. But not everyone knows that there's good wins and bad wins. Harry's experienced a few of those bad ones. Wins that he probably shouldn't have gotten because he certain his opponent had landed more punches and the judges miscounted. Or it was clear the other fighter wasn't into it and let him win.

Harry thinks tonight is his worst win ever.

The fight had been good. Trinsky, tonight's opponent from New Jersey, was short and stocky but strong. Harry was quicker than him though so they'd gone back and forth for a few rounds. Nothing two rough, just enough punches to have bright red welts on his torso and an ache in his jaw.

He fought through it though, fueled by the sounds of y/n and Niall cheering for him. Win this fight and he's onto the championship match. So he went at it with all he had left, charging Trinsky just as the man knocked his fist into Harry's temple.

It felt like a lightning bolt of pain zapped through his brain, shaking his core and causing his feet to stumble. Trinsky slid to the right as Harry crashed into the ropes, blinking furiously as the room around him spun. He was still in a daze as his body moved on its own, quick enough to uppercut his left fist into Trinsky's chin. The man crumbled to the mat, out cold, and Harry's dizzy head brought him down as well.

There's cheering and an announcement of his name, declaring Harry the winner but he can't seem to focus on it. Trinsky is being moved from the ring by his team, Harry falling to his bum on the mat as he rips at the velcro of his gloves with his teeth.

The room is coming back into focus, someone is calling him from the side of the ring but he doesn't recognize the voice so it goes ignored. He gets his hands free, rubbing his fingers into the tender spot on his head and wincing. He needs to take some Advil and ice it.

Harry climbs to his feet, a bit disoriented as he ducks under the ropes to leave. He knows he's got a team here somewhere but his mind can't seem to recognize what they look like or how to find them.

"Man, what are you doing?"

He turns, confused to find two men watching him like he's grown a second head. Harry feels like he knows the warm brown eyes of the taller man but he's not sure from where. Smiling uncomfortably, he motions behind him.

"I n-need ice or something." He says, excusing himself with a shrug and turning back to the locker room. He doesn't like the way his stomach twists or how his chest is telling him he knows those men when he couldn't even tell you there names right now. His heart thunders in his chest, panic seeping in and he's desperate to find something or someone that'll just help him out.

"Harry baby," she says calmly, a hand rubbing up his bare back comfortingly. "you okay?"

Y/n appears at his side, head tilted so she can meet his nervous gaze. Almost immediately he latches onto her hand, shaking his head. Her eyebrows crease, lips frowning as she reaches to cup his cheek.

"What's going on H? What's the matter?"

"M'head hurts," he answers immediately. "I-I think I forgot my team."

A trembling breath leaves his lips, tears stinging behind his eyes when he sees the concern on his wife's face. She brushes her thumb over his temple, the one she knows got hit the hardest, and then brushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead to place a tender kiss there.

"Let's get you to the locker room babe."

He follows like a lost puppy, trailing behind her through the back hallway and into his locker room. Y/n closes the door behind him before anyone else can enter, twisting the lock. Harry sits in the closest chair, fiddling with the tape on his fingers as he tries to calm down.

"Do you want to talk to me bub?" Y/n asks quietly, pulling up a seat directly in front of him. He nods, lifting his gaze from his hands to her face.

"I don't know what happened. It's like I got hit in the head and everything got shook up." He explains, frowning. He hates the way this feels. Hates that his body is screaming at him to just remember but his brain refuses to accept the message. "I know them, I know I do but s'like their names and stuff are just gone."

Y/n inhales sharply, biting nervously at her bottom lip. Harry's not even sure what to say and that makes him feel so much worse. He doesn't even feel like he has a concussion, not really. Everything else is still there, still in the forefront of his mind. His wife, his boys, Anne and Gemma. And he faintly remembers sitting at bars with one of the men from his team, remembers crashing on his couch late at night. But the soul of those memories are gone.

"I'm gonna get you some painkillers and water okay babe? Then we'll figure out what to do."

He nods, smiling wetly when she kisses his forehead. Watching her move around the room to gather water and whatnot, Harry wills himself to just think. He knows these men, he's just gotta focus on it. A memory stands out, one of the three of them in a car on a road trip. His trainer is driving, his manager in the passenger seat and he knows this is a trip for a match. A recent match too because he remembers saying goodbye to Arlo and y/n, kissing her swollen belly before he went.

Y/n returns to him with a bottle of water and a couple pills, watching him cautiously as he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to just think. Recalling conversations from the car, remembering the screen in the front of the vehicle that reads Connected to Liam's iPhone. Liam. Almost instantly Nick's name floods his brain again and he feels his whole body tremble with relief.

Harry takes the medicine, gulping it down and slumping into his seat. "Nick and Liam," he finally murmurs, voice thick. "I couldn't remember darling. They were right in front of me and I couldn't remember their fucking names."

A silent tear trails down his cheek, Harry sniffling as y/n wipes it away with a tender touch he's only felt from her. "Its ok Harry. We'll figure out what happened. At least you remember now baby." She tried to comfort, but Harry's heart still aches.

"What if-" he peers up at her through wet eyelashes. "what if it had been you? Or Arlo? Or all three of you? What if I-"

He can't even finish the thought before he's shaking his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks and jaw. What would he have done if he'd looked at y/n and not remembered her name? Not remembered the beautiful son they created? Or the one she's growing now?

"It wasn't Harry," she stays sternly, cutting into his spiralling thoughts. "it wasn't and even if it did happen, it wouldn't change a thing. You're not getting rid of us."

Trying to smile, he nods and takes a deep breath. He trusts her, more than anyone, and he's never known someone that fights as much as she does. He knows, no matter what, that she'll always have his back.

#sweet as honey #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #dad harry #boxer harry #cute #smut #daddy harry styles #sweet as honey talk

[ace-din-djarin]

*peaks over counter* could I possibly have....some Luke whump with Din being protective? *Ducks back under counter*

@ameliajessicawilliamspond

Hi!! Sorry for the delay... I hope this fill meets your expectations!! It's so fun to write Luke whump, tbh. Poor bby. I went a little nuts with it, like always...

-------

When they finally found themselves cornered, Grogu cowering in Din’s arms and Din weaponless, ready to defend the child to the death-- it wasn’t much of a choice for Luke to step forward and surrender himself, and let them take him. They descended on him like the birds on Tatooine that would wait for a creature to be close to death, and then swoop down for the kill. The troopers dragged him forward, away from Din and Grogu, and the last thing he saw before they hit him with a stunner was the look on Grogu’s face. The last thing he felt was Din’s fury and fear, roaring from him through the force like wildfire, before it cut off abruptly along with the rest of Luke’s awareness.

He had no way of knowing whether what they were doing to him was what they would have done to Grogu, or if they were devising new and even more cruel methods just for him. He found it didn’t matter much. If what they had planned for Grogu was even a sliver of what they did to him, it was worth it. Even if they hadn’t been planning to hurt or experiment on the child at all— and he doubted that— but even if they hadn’t, just keeping Grogu from feeling alone and scared, the way he had way back when Moff Gideon had kidnapped him and held him on that huge star destroyer, it was worth it. It was all worth Luke’s sacrifice.

The cruel med droids, stripped of all personality and wielding scalpels and hypos full of unknown substances; the cold-eyed officers and scientists who wouldn’t come near unless Luke was trussed up, force suppression cuffs on his wrists and a double dose of suppressant drugs burning in his veins; the troopers who stood, silent and unmoving, at the door to his cell, two inside and two out, watching him, never giving him a moment alone, even when he screamed and retched and shook… All of it was worth keeping Grogu safe. Keeping Din safe. Their family, their small clan, it was what mattered. Nothing else.

In the dark of the night, when he lay on the cold durasteel bench of his cell under the eyes of two stormtroopers, blasters held across their chests in warning, Luke felt that perhaps this was penance as well as sacrifice. He stared at the troopers, the white of their armor gleaming dully in the dim lights overhead, and considered just how many of their brethren he had murdered. There were those who had been aboard the Death Star, of course — by far his worst, most heinous act — but there were also those who had fallen by his blade, or his blaster, or by Rebel plots he helped to fabricate. He reached out, in the small gaps of time when the suppressants started to wear off and circumnavigating the cuffs was bearable, and felt the troopers’ small threads of light brush against his mind, considering just how many other threads he had snipped. Surely enough to weave hundreds of miles of fabric, within the Force. So many beings— and in the Force, it did not matter their affiliation or creed, they lived just the same— whose lives he had cut short.

The officers who presided over the scientists’ experiments definitely knew who Luke was. They watched with stiff shoulders, with hands fisted in rage... but they hesitated, and they didn’t look him in the eye. Din had told Luke about Gideon, how he had tried to kill himself when he realized Luke was there on his star destroyer, and he supposed these officers viewed him in much the same way. A power both feared and respected, something strange and monstrous, a dark cloaked figure that flitted through Imperial nightmares. A truly fitting form for Darth Vader’s son.

Time passed in hazy, half-acknowledged spurts. The artificial light of the cruiser’s cell block never shut off, and the trooper’s schedules seemed to be random; he watched them with as much awareness as he could muster, but never seemed to be able to latch on to a system that would tell him how long each day was. Even their experiments and interrogation seemed to be done at random intervals. Sometimes he would go what felt like days with only the two troopers for company, and at others he was shaken awake in the middle of sleep and dragged off hours after their last session.

It was during one of these sessions-- woozy from drugs, from lack of sleep and food, from the constant blank nothingness the cuffs forced on him-- that something changed. Luke was strapped to a table, doing his best to ignore the scientist speaking into a voice recorder by his side, not thinking about what they were planning, when the room shook violently around them, his stomach rolling with the movement.

The officer standing at Luke’s head looked up, frowning. “What…?”

He was cut off by another shudder and a distant boom that reverberated down the cold steel hallways outside their room. The officer’s eyes, from what Luke could see, were wide-- he was worried.

“Keep going,” he snapped at the scientist, and stalked out of Luke’s view. He heard the door whoosh open and closed again, and they were alone.

Luke had long since stopped trying to fight the straps that held him down, but now he couldn’t help but thrash against them and hope that somehow they were looser today than usual, somehow he could pull himself free…

“Stop that!” the scientist snapped, even as the room shook yet again and a tool rolled off his tray of instruments and clattered to the ground. He lacked the fear that the officer had shown; he was brutally efficient, continuing to measure out a hypo full of an unknown substance, holding it up to the light with calm, unconcerned eyes. He grasped Luke’s arm and injected the hypo as the sounds of explosions outside got closer, and the sound of booted feet running on durasteel echoed louder and louder down the hallway. He turned and looked Luke in the eye, as he had never done before, just as whatever he had injected started to burn.

“You killed so many, Skywalker.” He said, still calm and collected, but now with eyes that shone with fury, “It’s only fair, don’t you think, that we get to strike back?”

Fire was in his veins, under his skin, burning him from the inside out.

Luke screamed.

______

The scream that echoed down the hall froze Din in his tracks.

He felt, rather than heard, Leia stumble to a stop behind him. He could hear only that scream-- unending, agonized, and horrifically familiar. It sent ice down his spine and through his heart, and he felt himself running again before he really realized it, sprinting flat out towards that voice, Leia on his heels.

He skidded a bit when the ship shook with another explosion-- Boba, Fennec, and Axe were having a bit too much fun with the explosives, but as long as Bo-Katan and Koska were still able to keep the ship flying, Din couldn’t find it in himself to care much. The door opened with a quick blaster shot to the keypad, and he and Leia ran in and stumbled to a stop as one. Horror welled up in his throat.

Luke was strapped down to a table, thick bands around his forehead, arms, and legs, and his hands were bound in front of him in what looked like force-suppression cuffs. He was screaming, thrashing against his bonds, eyes open and tracking some unseen terror. A man stood over him, arms crossed and an expression of sick satisfaction on his face as he watched Luke writhe. He turned to face Din and Leia with no sign of fear.

Leia raised her blaster and stepped forward, face twisted in a snarl. “What have you done to him?”

The man-- a scientist, judging by his clothing and the room, which held instruments and tools that turned Din’s stomach to contemplate-- looked at Leia with cool, calm eyes.

“Only what he deserved.” Behind him, Luke gasped something that may have been a “No!”

Din snarled and before Leia could react, lunged towards the man and punched him full in the face. He howled, hands flying to his nose, and Din hit him again, and again, until he sagged in his grip, unconscious, and Din dropped him to the floor. He stepped over him and reached out to cup Luke’s face in his hands, watching him breathe through clenched teeth, whines and moans of pain slipping through. He didn’t seem to see Din, but he seemed to register something; he turned his face towards where Din stood, even as his eyes rolled in their sockets.

“He shot him with something-- it’s probably causing him pain,” Leia said, holding up a spent hypo-syringe, face grim. “I’ll see if I can find what this was; maybe we can figure out how to help it.”

She turned towards a cabinet along the wall that held all sorts of horrible things, chemicals and liquids that seemed distinctly menacing. Din looked down at the cuffs around Luke’s wrists. It was so wrong, seeing him cuffed and bound like this, and he couldn’t stand it. He pulled the Darksaber from his belt and thumbed the activator.

Leia whirled at the sound of the blade extending, and barked “Wait!” just a second too late-- the Darksaber cut the connection between the cuffs, and a wave of energy exploded outward. Din dropped.

There was a presence all around him… slimy, oily, uncomfortable darkness, brushing up against him, making him shudder even as he walked calmly next to a hulk of a man in black armor…. Rage filled his thoughts as he struck out with his blade, struck the figure that taunted him, that threatened his sister…. His blade sliced through his father’s wrist, a mirror of his own maiming…. He tossed his saber aside, facing the Emperor, watching rage twist that horrible white mask of a face…. And then, pain, everywhere, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but writhe underneath it, couldn’t get away…. And his father looked on, watched as he died….

Din gasped as he was wrenched out of the vision, sitting up from where he had fallen onto the floor, staring up at Leia, who was slumped slightly over Luke, hands on his wrists. When Din pulled himself to standing, he saw that she had managed to get another pair of cuffs around them. She seemed to sense his disapproval, and shook her head, eyes never leaving Luke’s face.

“He’s too out of it to shield, right now, and he’s too powerful to have the cuffs off while he’s unaware. I’m guessing you saw what I saw?”

Din nodded slowly, and she sighed, reaching out to brush trembling fingers across Luke’s cheek, doing nothing to smooth out the agonized expression he still wore.

“He’s told you about our… our father? About the Emperor?”

“That--” Din’s voice cracked, and he tried again. “That was a memory.”

“I believe so. I wasn’t there-- I was leading the fight on Endor with Han and Chewie. But he told me afterwards. And I would know Palpatine’s face anywhere.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back up, steel in the set of her jaw. “Let’s get him out of here.”

They made quick works of the straps, and it was worryingly easy to lift Luke into his arms. He still struggled against whatever he saw and whatever he felt, but Din held him fast to his chest as they hurried back down the shining steel hallway and towards where they had entered. He could hear the sounds of blaster fire as they got closer, and Leia moved to block the two of them, blaster in hand. Din shifted Luke in his arms, tucking him a little closer so that he could reach his vambrace, and primed his whistling birds. He sent a quick, silent prayer of thanks to the Manda that he had found the Armorer again as he felt them rise and click into place.

They hurtled around the corner, Leia already firing at a stormtrooper who was grappling with Boba, and he whirled around as the trooper dropped. Din’s whistling birds flew, and five other troopers around the room-- one about to slam Axe into the ground, another huddled around a corner taking shots at Fennec-- fell with howls of pain.

“Djarin! Princess! You found him?”

Boba seemed to notice Luke writhing in Din’s arms as he said it, and he cursed even as he ducked a shot from another trooper. “Get him to the ship! We’re nearly done here. I’ll comm Kryze, we’ll meet you there.”

He clapped Din on the shoulder as he passed, and Din nodded his thanks, hurrying after Leia.

The Falcon was waiting for them, and Din quickly laid Luke on one of the tiny bunks, stuffing a blanket along the edge of the wall so that Luke, if he thrashed too much, wouldn’t hurt himself.

Leia slid down the wall opposite, coming to rest with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

“I’m never letting him out of my sight again,” she groused, looking up at Din through her hands, flinching when Luke groaned again. Her eyes were so weary, it hurt Din to look at them. He looked down at Luke from where he sat at the edge of the bed, and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, watching him flinch and gasp.

“I… he told me about the Emperor, and what happened on the second Death Star. But I never guessed it was that bad... “ Leia trailed off. They sat together for a few long minutes, the only thing filling the silence of the ship the sound of Luke’s pain. He seemed to be tiring-- he hadn’t screamed for a while now, and his thrashing had quieted some. Din prayed that it was just the drugs wearing off, and not exhaustion forcing him under.

“I’m going to go get ready to take off as soon as the rest of them are back,” Leia said, rising to her feet and brushing soft fingers across Luke’s cheek once more. Din felt himself slumping a little as she left, closing the door behind her, and he reached up and released the seals on his helmet.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered to Luke. He gathered Luke into his arms and kissed his forehead, ready to wait out the rest of this nightmare along with him.

————

Now with part two here!

#@ameliajessicawilliamspond #ask #dinluke drabbles #ahufflepuffwrites #dinluke #skydalorian #dinluke fanfiction #din djarin and luke skywalker #luke skywalker #din djarin #leia organa #boba fett #whump #luke whump #medical horror #a little bit #fun times #that's not how the force works I know #but it's fun

[imaginesmai]

Arvin Russell - The right time

SO YEAH I SAW THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME AND I LOVED IT!! My opinion about it is at the end! In case you haven’t seen it and you still want to read this, you can skip it by not looking at the A/N. Let me know what you think about the film in the comments, please! Or just message me! I’m feeling like writting about him, so please 

SEND YOUR REQUESTS.

Plot: Arvin’s father always told him to wait for the right time, and he thought it was the only right way to do things. Now, when you’ve been hurt because of him, he’s ready to take the matters into his own hands.

WARNINGS: TDATT SPOILERS. Mentions of rape. Murder. 

Arvin didn’t know if the preacher had heard him or not coming in, because he hadn’t turned around to look at him. If anything, that only made him angrier. He was sure that if he had heard him and looked at him, he wouldn’t have spared him another glance. Because Arvin Russell wasn’t of his interest, not because of the money and the gender. The last thought made him tighten his grip around the gun, willing himself not to shoot him before the right time.

Since Lenora’s death, he had been waiting for the right time. That was what his father told him; to wait for the right time, and then to avenge yourself. He had been doing pretty good with that mantra, or at least most of the times. Arvin had followed the preacher to his house and to his adventures with young women. He had watched as he fucked a young girl from Lenora’s class and then went back to his wife, scoffing when dinner wasn’t ready and urging her to satisfy him when bed time arrived. He had held his gun tight to his chest, knowing the right time would eventually come; and then, he had hated his father more than ever, because listening to him had almost caused another precious death.

“Arvin!” his grandma called from downstair. Quickly, he closed the notebook where he was keeping track of the preacher’s actions. “Boy, Mr. Y/L/N is here!”

Arvin frowned at the mention of your father. You had known each other for your whole life, so he knew your family story; that your mother had left you after promising your father that she would leave her adventurous life when she got pregnant. She left with some young man that was going to travel the world, and your father had locked himself up in a unbreakable shell, forgetting about his eleven’s years old daughter.

Not once he had seen your father outside your house, you being in charge of dropping food and money for him. Not matter how many times Arvin had tried to convince you that you would be better on your own. Even living with him, once your relationship wasn’t just friends anymore. But you had just shook your head softly and told him that you couldn’t leave him, not yet.

So it was strange that it was your father and not you who was knocking on his door. He had agreed to meet you that morning to show you finally what he was on lately, since he couldn’t hide anything; but you hadn’t come, with the excuse of visiting Lenora’s grave once more. You were her best friend, so after offering to go with you, he agreed on meeting you at night.

Briefly, he looked to the box where you two were saving a bit of your earnings for your life together. He doubted your father knew about it, so he got up and walked down the stairs.

“Here he is” Emma smiled at him. “Well, I’m leavin’ you to it. I’m in the kitchen”

“Arvin” your father called his name, voice croaked from not using it. “God, you’re a man now”

Arvin gave your father a small smile. The man, once handsome, broad and tall, was now hunched shadow. He had a several days long beard, skinny arms and wide clothes. Mr Y/L/N was hiding his hands behind his body, only making him look worse. Still, Arvin extended one hand and offered him a shake, greeting him.

“I’m – uh, sorry, you didn’t have to come down. But Emma started calling you before I could explain” he gave him an awkward chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Y/L/N. Is there… anything I can help with?”

“Is Y/N here?”

The question caught Arvin off guard, because usually you spent days in Arvin’s house and your father didn’t notice as long as there was food on the fridge. Lately, the man had been doing an effort of getting better, and some nights you had told Arvin how he had attempted to cook for you. From there to wondering where you were there was a huge step, and for a second Arvin tried to sniffle for any track of alcohol. There was none.

“Usually, I wouldn’t really care but, you know – getting better and all” he tried to explain himself. “She spends most of the time here, so I thought that maybe she’s around? I haven’t seen her since yesterday’s afternoon”

The last part caught Arvin attention. He talked with you last time before starting yesterday’s shift, which was before noon. And you told him you were going to spend the rest of the day with your father, and that the next morning you intended to pay Lenora a visit. He hadn’t worried about it, because he had been busy and trusted you to take care of yourself. But if you hadn’t slept on your house, then there was something to worry about.

“She… Y/N told me she was goin’ to spend the mornin’ in the graveyard” Arvin mumbled.

“Oh, she went yesterday after you left her home” he explained, making Arvin’s blood run cold. “I had things to do so she told me she’d go and then pay you a visit”

Your father said something else, but Arvin wasn’t listening anymore. There was another person he had missed last night; the preacher, who usually went home somewhere near eight, didn’t appear until very much later. He knew because he had been waiting outside his house, watching his wife sitting in front of a cold dinner with tears on her eyes. He had thought nothing of it at first, but now, he choked on his breath knowing what could have happened.

Arvin’s body collided with your father when he walked past him and ran out of the house, hearing the man calling out for him. His grandma also looked through the kitchen window, screaming his name before Arvin disappeared into the field that went to the town’s graveyard.

Thinking about it, Arvin knew it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Knockemstiff was full of sinners, bad people and wicked intentions. Even if you didn’t go to highschool no more and worked to provide to your father, Arvin had had to deal with a few men who thought you were available, whether you wanted or not. There were a lot of people who could have hurt you, a lot of reasons why you didn’t go back home last night, and none of them made sense in his head.

You knew how to defend yourself, you had a car that could help you to escape any delicate situation, and you never got lost. Not once you had wandered off without telling anyone, not even your father. Even if he wasn’t listening or paying attention, you always told him where you were going.

Thoughts ran past his mind at the same time Arvin ran past his neighbours and cars, trying not to collide with anyone but finding it difficult, since he couldn’t see much past his oncoming tears. Loosing Leonora had been one thing. His sister, his family and the person he had fought nail and tooth to protect for so many years. He had been waiting for the right moment to avenge her, to put a bullet in between the preacher’s eyes, or maybe a few. One for every second she had suffered hanging from that rope.

And he swore, that if he had had anything to do with your disappearance, there wouldn’t be an inch of his body untouched by the bullets.

He wasn’t as late as he could have been, he guessed. The police was warned, a group of villagers offered to help, and Arvin himself kept running in circles around the graveyard for the whole day. Even Grandma, who wasn’t in the best shape, had helped into the search. And she had been the one who had found you, maybe because she had just this woman-ly instinct or because God had wanted it to be a woman who found your naked, bruised body and not some sinful man.

Arvin had arrived then – and sure, you were alive, recovering in his room because he didn’t want to leave your side ever again, barely saying a word and healing from the bruised kidney. But you weren’t fine, you weren’t smiling at Arvin and cradling his head when he lost his track. It had been obvious what had happened that day, why it had taken Arvin a few hours to find each piece of your clothes and where the bruises around your thighs came.

Your father had dissapeared again, locking himself in his room and forgetting about his daughter once more. But Arvin had been there every second for the past week, getting you to eat what you could and holding you tight through the nightmares. 

The bench he was sitting on creaked under his fingers when Arvin thought about your sobs, how your tried to hide beside him when last week you complained about Virginia heat. The preacher looked back to Arvin, who wasn’t visible because of the cap.

“Excuse me, preacher” Arvin’s voice didn’t waver. “You got time for a sinner?”

Upon hearing Arvin’s voice, and knowing it wasn’t anyone from his interest – a girl – he turned around and motioned for him to keep going. It wasn’t any more about Lenora´s death, because Arvin would have had enough with killing him. Maybe making him suffer for a bit, making him feel the desperation of knowing death was the only answer. Now, however, Arvin wanted to cut off every inch of skin that had touched yours.

“Go ahead” preacher Teagardin told him, going back to his lecture.

Arvin took his time, talking about everything that the preacher had done of thought about since he put a foot in Knockemstiff. He talked about how the preacher forced his wife to please him late at night, how he ordered her around as if she was just a servant. He talked about how he liked young girls, those who were innocent enough that didn’t have to be forced, just manipulated. About the pregnancy, and how he cowered away once his decisions had repercussions.

He watched from behind his cap how the preacher left the book on the bench, his eyes widening in size as he realised the sins Arvin was talking about were his. He turned around finally, locking eyes with Arvin, but not recognizing him. Why would he, though, since everything he looked at were Arvin’s precious girls. First his sister, and now his girl. As he continued, he shifted the gun on his lap, wanting to end his story before blowing his brains out.

“And there is this other girl. She ain’t like the rest, cause she doesn’ fall for the lies. So I decided to approach her when she was alon’, kicked her head open and brought her to the back of my car. Forcer her and left her in the woods” Arvin’s finished. “Didn’ care if she was a ‘right or not. Just fucked her good and left her to die”

“Who are you, boy?” the preacher chuckled awkwardly, getting up. “Why don’t you take off your cap?”

“She was found, thankfully. Naked, bruised, unconscious. She doesn’t talk no more, just cries” Arvin’s voice was full of venom, finally taking off his cap. “But I don’ care, cause I ain’t responsible for that neither”

The preacher went to jump forward, maybe hoping to kill Arvin, scare him away or knock him unconscious. If it came to Arvin’s word against his, probably just a few people would believe Arvin; but the truth would come out eventually, and both of them knew it. No one would ever know what the preacher would have done then, because true to his word, Arvin Russell didn’t leave an inch of the preacher’s skin untouched from the bullets.

-

Later that night, Arvin walked into his dark room, knowing it would be his last night in Knockemstiff. He still didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a way to leave without being chased or hurting his family. For that night, he was just a scared boy whose responsibilities would have to wait.

He climbed into the room through the window, not making any noise and avoiding his grandma and grand uncle. If they didn’t know he was there that night, they wouldn’t have anything against the police; they would be safe. They would be just fine with the money he was leaving behind, probably a bit tight but enough to have a good life. The next problem, however, was harder. He let you nest against him when he crawled into bed, let you hide your face against his neck and not talk for another night of what happened that day. Not that there was much to talk, because it wouldn’t happen again.

Not knowing if you heard him or not, Arvin told you what he had done. Tears ran down his cheeks when he told you how he couldn’t stop pulling the trigger on him, how he would do it again and again, and how he felt guilty about not doing it sooner. The same as your father, he expected you not to hear a word of what he had said. But you surprised him when your shaky, thin hand made its way to his cheek and made him look at you.

“You can’t say anything, Arv” your whispered, the pale cheeks a contrast with your hard voice. “We need to run away”

“W-we?” Arvin frowned, confused. “You can’t – darlin’, I-I can’t… you and, uh, we –“

“You’re not leaving without me, Arvin Russell”

For the first time in a week, you pressed your lips against him. He had almost forgotten how it felt to have something good, not just rage and pain. Arvin let more tears fall as he slowly cradled the back of your head, not wanting to move in case it would end. It didn’t last longer, anyway; soon, you were tearing away. But rather than just cuddling his side, you laid your head against his shoulder and hug his middle.

He had thousands of thoughts that he wanted to say. That he was sorry, for not telling you sooner what he was doing and for not taking better care of you. That he should have taken care of the preacher on the begging, and not trusting on the advice of someone who killed himself in front of their kid. But he didn’t say anything, just hug you close, knowing there was no way he would leave the town without you.

Because together, everything felt like the right time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

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A/N (my opinion on tdatt):

So, WOW. I saw it last night because I don’t have Netflix, so I had to meet a friend to watch it. And it was - wow. The way Tom Holland and Robert Pattinson go out of their way to work their accents and roles is amazing. Even though I hate the preacher’s character (who doesn’t), I loved how Robert works with him and makes him his. He’s always an amazing actor, but this time he outdid himself!

And Tom... Well, he got me with the first word he said. That part when he’s with Lenora and gets beaten up... and then, the way he avengers her from the bullies is amazing. I also loved watching how he had a relationship with a fem character that wasn’t romantical. He showed every emotion, thought and action with just his face, and I love him for it.

I don’t think it’s a film that should be seen just becuase he’s in it. It’s amazing, breath-taking and beautiful. I love this kind of films, but if you don’t is understable. It’s quite violent and can tigger anybody. Still, I’ll give it 8/10 - becuase I would have loved to see more of other characters! Message me if you want to talk about it

#arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #arvin russell one shot #arvin russell imagine #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell fic #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tdatt #the devil all the time imagine #the devil all the time one shot #the devil all the time x reader #the devil all the time fic #tdatt imagine #tdatt one shot #tdatt fic #imaginesmai #imaginemai

[hayjeon]

One Year, My Love [M] (ft. Jungkook) | pt. 1

→ historical/royal!au, marriagecontract!au, based off the kdrama 100 days My Prince; → You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year. 

→ genres: lots of fluff/plot development, a tiny bit of angst, and a little smut → 15k words | part 1| part 2 | fin.

A/N: I went on a writing binge the past couple days and I was able to finish this monster fic, and wanted to get it out for you guys so you can read during quarantine! I usually tend to write really angsty and darker fics, so I hope that the fluff in this one is really refreshing :) 

“No!” You scream, flailing your arms as the officials try to drag you into the waiting carriage. “I won’t marry him! I can’t!” 

The matchmaker looks wistfully at you as you struggle. “Please! Y/n, he is rich! He’ll pay for your debt, and you’ll avoid a punishment! I’m sure that your fiancee, ‘Jungkook’ that you speak of, doesn’t even exist! You have no one else! Just go!” 

You struggle, putting up quite a fight with the two men gripping either of your arms. “Never!” You scream, turning to bite one on his arm. He yelps and lets you go, and when his partner sees that you bit him, he throws you onto the ground, drawing his sword and whipping it at your neck. 

He huffs, “You bitch, you know that it’s the King’s decree that all women must be wed by tonight. This is your last chance to survive. Your punishment may be death, and if you want to meet that end, so be it!” 

You glare up at him, blowing the hair that fell out of your bun out of your face, “So do it! Kill me! I’d rather die than be married off to someone who’s older than my father! He’s a pig!” 

The villagers murmur. They knew of him. The rich landowner who happened to also be a government official who was heftily over sixty years of age, and well-known to have multiple concubines. If you married him, you would be his seventh. 

The official just presses his sword closer to your neck, and you feel the sharp blade dig into your delicate skin. “General Oh is being a kind man to allow a woman with age and no property wed into his household. You should be thankful!” 

“Thankful!” You scoff, laughing loudly “Ha! Thankful? To that swine who sits around all day getting fat, instead of protecting the country and his tenants like he should? His one desire is to get enough concubines so he could fuck one each day of the week! You call him a kind man? Do you not have any sisters, or a daughter? Would you ship her off to a man like that?!” 

The man hesitates, and you see him gulp. There. You’d hit a nerve. 

“Oh,” you smile slyly, “so you do have a woman close to you.” You take his moment of weakness to stand, but he still holds the sword pointed towards you. “Then you’d understand why I would rather die by your sword, than by that swine’s disgusting little dick.” 

The official’s eyes widen, but he holds his ground. “Well, if that may be it, then I have no choice but to follow the King’s decree. All men or women who refuse to be wed by tonight will be executed.” 

You hold your head high, eyeing him down with a steely gaze. “So be it.” You grit, lip curling. 

The official seems like it’s the last thing he wants to do, but everyone turns their heads or shuts their eyes as the man lifts his sword high. You lift your eyes to the sky. You’d endured quite a bit of your life, struggling to make ends meet after your parents were murdered, you’d run away and swam through the rushing rivers to escape the murderers dressed in black who’d ransacked your house and kidnapped your brother. After you were saved and adopted by your current father, your life had been one of petty thefts and begging until you’d been able to run some manual labor jobs to help pay for food and kindling for yourself and your father. Until now, it had been a hard, hard life. There was no god. But you knew one thing. You would never, ever lose your honor. And so be it, losing your life this way. 

You suck in a breath, waiting for the sword to swing down, when suddenly your father’s voice cuts through the crowd. 

“WAIT! WAAAAIIIIITTTT!” He cries, stumbling and pushing through the crowd. He tows along a man dressed in white after him. “He’s here! Her fiancee!” He lifts the hand that holds the man’s hand. The man seems as confused as you are, but the official lowers his sword. 

The matchmaker gasps. “That’s Jungkook?!” He gapes. “He exists? I thought she made him up!” 

Your father runs up to you, and you face him with a bewildered expression as he leans in close. “Just go with it,” he grits, before facing the official with a gentle smile that doesn’t match the environment of the conversation. “I’m so sorry for my daughter, she must’ve lost her mind. She has a fiancee, but he was far away. I just returned with him, and they will be wed today!” 

You whip your head to stare at the man in tow with your father. He seems beaten up; a busted lip and some bruise littering his cheek and neck. But underneath the grime he’s quite handsome, and seems to be of around your age. His eyes are round and his skin quite pale. His nose is large and regal, while his lips are round and plush. His jawline is sharp and his shoulders broad and muscular. He meets your gaze with a frown. 

The official faces you, quirking his brow. “Is this true?” 

Your panicked expression molds into a calmer one, your mind running a hundred miles a minute. “Yes,” you determine, facing him with a bold stare. “This is my fiancee. I will be wed to him.” Better the wide-eyed man than the swine. 

He faces the man. “Is what she is saying true?” 

You and the rest of the onlookers turn to the handsome man. He frowns, contemplating how your father had nursed him to health and moments ago begged him to please return the favor by marrying his daughter. He was shocked and had no time to ask questions as he’d been dragged out of bed to the town hall of this run-down village. His head still throbs, and he watches as you look at him with such determination, and your father with desperation. 

He squares his shoulders, and looks back at the official. 

“Yes. She is my fiancee.” 

Everyone seems to sigh in relief as the official nods and sheathes his sword. He signals to his comrade and they leave the premises, promising to send word to their general regarding your marriage status. He hoists himself up on the horse. “You must be wed by tonight,” he warns, and gallops away. 

The matchmaker scurries up to you both, a huge smile on his face. “So, what kind of a wedding do you want?” 

You and the man sit on the front porch. You level him with a steely gaze, your arms crossed across your chest while your dad cowers in the corner. 

“Your name?” You ask.

He glares back at you. “I don’t remember.” 

“How did you meet my father, then?” 

Your dad pipes up. “I found him when I went to go fishing. He’d been washed up on the riverbed with a nasty wound on the back of his head.” 

The both of you return to glaring at eachother. 

“Fine,” you snap, “It seems as if you and I have both...situations...that need to be solved. You don’t remember anything about yourself and where you’ve come from. I need to find a husband to marry by the end of the day or else I’ll be executed. We will forge a deal.” 

He frowns. “What are the terms? What is preventing me from just running away?” 

You spread out a scroll, dipping your brush into the ink as you write neatly. “Term 1. You shall be given the name, ‘Jungkook.’” 

“That’s the name that I lied was of my fiancee.” You explain, “Since you seem to not remember your own name, that shall be the name at least until you remember yours, that you are called by.” He watches you write in silence. 

“Term 2. I will nurse you back to health. If you decide you don’t want this, you will die of starvation, mugging, or of your wounds. We are the only chance you have at regaining your memory and returning to your previous life.” 

You watch as his expression remains unchanging. He had an impeccable pokerface. 

“Term 3. We will be wed for 1 year. Whether your memory has returned or not, the year must be fulfilled in order to satisfy the decree of the King. After the given time, when the flowers of the Spring begin to bloom, you may go on your way, and I will go on mine.” 

He frowns at you. “What will happen in that time?”

You shrug, watching the villagers scurry about, preparing food and decorations for your wedding. “I will nurse you back to health and we must maintain the state of the house and act as a married couple. There is not much else. It is the least you can repay to my father for saving your life.” 

He nods. “Keep going.” 

You lean down to write down the final term. “Term 4. You will speak to no one of this truth, and this contract will stay within the walls of this house and be known by the parties present: you, myself, and my father.” 

He sighs, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at the contract. “You misspelled ‘myself’” he mutters. 

You stare up in shock. “You know how to read?” 

He seems to be surprised at your question. “Yes?” 

You straighten up. “Well, if you know how to read, then you must be from an affluent family. Ever the more reason to continue to try and regain your memories.” 

“And you?” 

You still, pausing at his question. There was no way he would understand what you’ve been through, why you were here now. You clear your throat, “I-I just picked it up. It’s a skill that I needed to learn to survive.” 

He doesn’t reply, and so you clear your throat again, turning the contract towards him. “Do you agree to these terms?” 

He surveys the script for a bit longer, and then nods. “I agree to these terms.” He dips his thumb in the ink and presses it down into the paper, and then takes the brush to write neatly on the bottom next to yours. 

Jungkook. 

The marriage ensues quickly, your surprised villagers preparing a last minute celebration of sorts. You borrow the matrimonial robes from your neighbor, Jisoo, who was wedded last week and has yet to return it to her lender, and Jungkook is able to borrow the matching set. 

In order to meet the deadline, your town decides to skip all the formalities and boil down the ceremony to just a fraction of the normal festivities. The matchmaker has put on his officiator’s clothes for the final time, and asks you the question. “Do you, y/n of this town, agree to marry and cherish this man, Jungkook, for the rest of your life, through sickness and in health?” 

You meet the eyes of Jungkook. He’s cleaned up quite nicely, your father helping him bandage up his wounds better and washing himself so he’s no longer caked in dirt and dried blood. His hair is re-tied into the tall bun on his head and the ceremonial silk hat placed on his head, adorned with beautiful beads. His robes are a beautiful royal blue. 

You weren’t really a liar. You were known to say it as it is. Your mouth had gotten you in quite a lot of trouble growing up. But this is the one time you knew you had to life. In order to survive. You would not cherish this man. You didn’t even know him. It would only be a marriage of a year. 

“I do.” You reply. 

The matchmaker smiles. “And do you, Jungkook,” he declares, turning, “take y/n, agree to marry and cherish this woman for the rest of your life, through sickness and in health?” 

He watches you, dressed in bright, red silk robes traditional for a bride and hair pulled into a large updo and adorned with a traditional wedding headpiece. “I do.” He states. 

Everyone erupts in cheers, your father being the loudest of them all. The matchmaker declares, “Then, with the power vested in me, I declare that Y/n and Jungkook are now married! Our city has completed the decree!” 

The villagers burst into music and dancing, women ushering forward with plates of food that they’d just cooked, and the fattest pig’s meat was brought forward with jugs of rice wine to share. You and Jungkook left the premises to change out of your clothes, in order to not get them dirty. 

Jisoo helps you undress and get into your regular clothes. “Jungkook is quite handsome, don’t you think?” She smiles, folding the silk neatly into its box. “You’ve found quite a fiancee.” 

You smile weakly, tying the knot in your shirt. 

“He doesn’t talk much, though, does he?” She ponders aloud, helping you get the pins and the headdress out of your hair. “I love that Eunwoo is a talker. He’s quite expressive, which matches me.”

You hum, erasing the makeup off your face. “Yes, you and your match are quite the pair. You got lucky, Jisoo.” 

She blushes, sighing dreamily. “I still can’t believe I was matched with him. He’s amazing.” 

You chuckle. “I’m sure he thinks the same of you.” 

You catch your gaze in the mirror. The day was full of events, but your face looks haggard and sad. You wonder if you’d ever be able to find someone who thinks so of you. 

Jisoo cherps up. “Oh right, during your wedding, I don’t know if you heard, but there was an official announcement that the Crown Prince Jeon has died.” 

You perk up at the news. “What? Wasn’t he the one who decreed this whole marriage law?” 

She nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, seems like it was a political move to try and increase the population. Quite a move, in my opinion. He would’ve made a fine king. But there are rumors he was assassinated.” 

Frowning, you help her pack up the dress. “The royals are never the type to ever care about people like us. Whether the Crown Prince took the throne or his little brother, it doesn’t matter. They would never make things better for us.” 

Jisoo shrugs. “You never know.” 

When she leaves the room, you think to yourself. If the Crown Prince was the one who’d decreed the nationwide marriage law, and if he was now suddenly dead, there was a chance that the law would be appealed. 

When you and Jungkook get a moment alone, you pull him aside where no one is listening. “We need to think of a plan.” 

He pulls his arm out from where you hold him. “Don’t touch me, how dare you place your hands on me?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his haughty language. “If anyone asks you, we met at the field where the yellow flowers bloom. It was there that you fell in love with me, and asked for my hand in marriage a few years ago. Until now, you were deployed far away as a warrior, and now have returned due to your injuries in battle. That is the story that you must tell the villagers until this is over. Am I clear?” 

He huffs, crossing his arms. “Fine.” 

You frown at him. “What is wrong now?” 

He turns from you. “I wanted to keep those clothes on,” he murmurs, and you frown and tip your ear closer to him. “What?” 

“I wanted to keep the robes on,” he mutters, and you follow his gaze to where Jisoo and Eunwoo return the ceremonial robes back to the kind vendor who’d lent it to them. 

You scoff. “Why? They’re ceremonial robes.” 

“They were quite comfortable. I hate these scratchy clothes your father has put me in.” You finally take a step back to look at him. You giggle. You recognize the outfit, it was one your father had worn years ago and had gotten to fat to fit in anymore. The hemp fits neatly on Jungkook’s shoulders, but he cringes as the scratchy and stiff fabric rubs against his skin. 

You roll your eyes, slapping him. “Don’t be a little baby.” His eyes widen at your actions. “How dare you!” He bellows, “Never put your hands on me, woman!” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “So you are from a rich family, huh? You know how to read, you prefer silk clothing, and you talk like a spoiled little brat. Well, look, Jungkook. Here in the village, we work with the sweat on our backs to make money, and with that money we buy food. Hear that? Food. We don’t go around, and waste our money on things like silk. Instead, we walk into the forest, gather heaploads of grass and weave them together to create this fabric. And only after that’s finished, we sew them together by hand, and wear it for years. Do you understand?!” 

Your voice has gotten quite loud in the rant, and his eyes widen and he seems to shrink a little under your anger. 

Huffing at him, you jam a finger into his chest. “And finally, you never, ever call a lady ‘woman’! That is the language of those rich swines who treat others below them like trash. Here in this village, you treat others with respect, and kindness. I’m not sure if you learned that in your previous cushy lifestyle, but it’s something you need to learn to survive here. Got it? Or else, I’ll kill you, and kill myself after!” 

His eyes go impossibly wide at the last statement and he cowers from you, neck shrinking into his shoulders as he stutters. “O-o-okay, no need to get violent. Jeez.” 

You toss your neck, marching away towards the festivities, smiling. This was going to be a piece of cake. 

Settling into your new home is easy. Your villagers help to build a new section on your square of land, in order to create a private separate section for you and Jungkook. Although he seems complains through most of it, he helps you, your father, and the rest of the villagers plummage through the forest for wood and timber, and carries it back all the way and helps the rest of the men build the structures. 

The room that is eventually built is large enough to house the both of you comfortably, and the ladies in your town had graciously gifted you a set of beautiful blankets for you to share. 

You and Jungkook stare down at the set of blankets neatly laid down with two pillows, side by side. 

“There is absolutely no way that I will sleep in the same bed as you,” he declares. “I will take the new blankets. You may sleep in that corner as to not collect suspicion from the villagers regarding our marriage.

You gape at him. “Seriously? You’re saying that I should sleep on the cold, hard floor while you get the cushy new blankets? A man should be offering the better position to the woman!” 

He frowns at you. “You are to me neither a wife nor a woman. It is only through our agreement that you are somewhat a partner to me, and nowhere in the contract is it states that I must betray my comfort for your convenience.” 

You roll your eyes, and you argue back and forth until you’re about to rip your hair out. 

“Ugh, fine!” You yell, throwing open the closet doors as you fish out your old blankets. You throw them in the corner, and settle in them as you see Jungkook happily skip over to his set and pull the covers all the way up to his chest with a content smile. 

Despite the villagers’ generosity and their help with everything, the extra mouth that you need to feed begins to take a toll on you and your father’s expenses after a few weeks. Before the wedding, you had been making just enough to feed yourself and your father. You’d run odd jobs, such as deliveries or serving food at a local restaurant while your father worked as a carpenter. But Jungkook ate and ate and ate. 

You and your father watch in disgust as Jungkook gobbles down the entire plate of food you’d prepared in minutes. Initially, you’d fought about the food, too. 

“What is this?!” He exclaims, holding up the fish you’d cooked with his chopsticks in disgust, “This tiny monstrosity?! I’ve never even seen a fish this small!” 

You’re unimpressed as you continue to shovel the plain rice that you’d made today into your mouth. “Shut up and eat what you’re given,” you mutter. But he doesn’t stop. 

“I demand that you bring me meat. Like from the wedding! Little did I know that you people eat these insect-looking despicable dishes, if I knew, I would not have agreed!” He continues to rant until you’re fed up too. 

You grab your chopsticks, whipping them up and snatching the fish from his. In one mouthful, the fish is shoved into your own mouth and gulped down. He watches you in shock. You snatch his bowl of rice as well, emptying it into your mouth as you chew loudly and quickly, washing it down with a cup of water. After you swallow, you burp loudly, and smile at him. 

“If you don’t want to eat it, then don’t!” You drop the smile and clear the dishes, throwing them in the sink. 

“What about my dinner?!” He cries, “I just spent the whole day lugging heavy wood on my back, and this is what I’m given?!” 

You sneer back, “Then learn to eat what’s given, Jungkook!” 

After that fiasco, he’d never complained about your food again. But now the problem was, he ate too much. 

“May I have one more?” He says, holding his empty bowl out to you, and you gawk at him. 

“That’s your third bowl, Jungkook. We don’t have any more.” 

He frowns, swallowing his food and pouting. “I want more food, though.” 

You roll your eyes. “If you’re going to eat so much, then get a job! We need to continue to pay rent and you sitting around here all day is doing nothing!” 

He shakes his head. “I refuse. Although I can’t remember much, what I do remember is that I have never been forced to do any sort of labor. And that won’t change now either.” 

You face him with a sly look. “If you don’t work, then I won’t make you food. It’s simple.” 

He drops the haughty expression. “Fine. What can I do?” 

You start off with the easy stuff. Eunwoo gets Jungkook a job as a water carrier for the town. They had to climb the mountains afoot with a yoke centered on their shoulders, either side hung with a heavy clay pot that was to be filled with the clean upstream river water and then returned to the towns people. 

Jungkook pants and huffs as he climbs the hills. He feels the burn in his thighs, but he grits his teeth at the thought of being able to eat some more good food. He’d admit, although the ingredients that you worked with were less than amazing, the way you’d learned to pair them with specific vegetables that you grew personally in the yard or with spices that you’d created yourself had created in him quite an appetite for the food that you made. 

He follows in Eunwoo’s footsteps as the road gets less steep and they pause to take a breather. Eunwoo wipes his sweat with a smile. 

Jungkook mutters, “How are you so happy all the time?” 

Eunwoo leans on a rock as he passes his smaller jug of water over to Jungkook. “How can I be unhappy? I have a beautiful wife, a house to live in, and a series of jobs that bring in enough money for me to be fed. What more should I desire?” He turns to Jungkook. 

Jungkook silently hands over the jug. “Wouldn’t you want a bigger house, some better clothes, or to move into a town that’s better than this one?” 

Eunwoo laughs. “I suppose for someone like you who’s been to the military as a warrior, you were paid quite nicely and given great amenities, but I was born humble and plan to die humble. Jisoo is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been granted as a man, and I plan to live fruitfully and responsibly so that I may provide for her and treat her as she deserves to be treated.” 

Jungkook follows Eunwoo’s suit as he stands and picks up the jugs again on his shoulders. Do I feel that way about y/n? Is it wrong that I don’t have any of that for myself towards her? 

His thoughts are cut off when Eunwoo calls out, “We’re almost there! Just ahead, you can hear the brook!” 

Jungkook almost jumps for joy when he arrives at the riverbed, the brook babbling brightly as the clear water streams downhill. He and Eunwoo laugh as they use the cold, fresh water to clean off their hands and faces of sweat, and begin filling their jugs with the water. The creek is beautiful; there are trees overcast that slightly give some shade, while still giving way to the bright blue sky overhead. There are a few birds that chitter and jump from tree to tree while Jungkook and Eunwoo take a breather. There are some beautiful yellow flowers that stud the other bank across the river. Jungkook wonders if maybe that may lead to the yellow flower fields where you’d told him to say you two met. 

Both of them grunt as they feel the weight of the water weighing down on their shoulders, but don’t say a word as they begin the trek down the mountain. 

Suddenly, Eunwoo pauses, and Jungkook stops. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Eunwoo tips his head as he looks around, listening for sounds. “Wait a second, someone is coming.” 

Like clockwork, Jungkook suddenly hears the distant sound of horses galloping, and they continue toward the sound until they can hear the small group of officials approaching them. 

“Halt!” One of them calls, and when he dismounts from his horse, Jungkook can see that it was the official that had once threatened you a few weeks back, before the wedding. 

“Oh, Jungkook, I see!” The official recognizes, and Jungkook dismounts the jugs from his shoulders to face the official. “I see you’re now a married man, and working hard to provide for the missus at home, yes?” 

Jungkook nods solemnly. 

“Well, we are just checking the premises for intruders. We’ve heard that there have been some muggings in the vicinity, so be on your merry way. Just be careful.” The official smiles and gets on his horse, signaling for the others to follow. As they gallop off, Jungkook narrows his eyes at the emblem engraved on the base of the official’s sword. 

Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his head. 

A rustle sounds from near him, and then a shout, and then aching pain in his shoulder. A sword is pointed at him, and he is able to just catch the emblem engraved on the hilt before it’s raised high and whipping towards him.

The flashback ends and Jungkook yells out a strangled cry as he falls towards the ground. 

Eunwoo takes off his yoke and runs back towards Jungkook, shocked and yelling, “Jungkook! Jungkook! Are you alright? Can you hear me?! Jungkook!” 

Jungkook can only see a glimpse of the blue sky above him before everything goes black. 

You’re at home, weaving some baskets as a job from the lady at the market when suddenly you hear distant shouts and galloping. Frowning, you drop the basket and make your way over to the gate of your house, peering over the wood to see what the commotion is all about. But the sound continues to approach, and to your surprise, you see government officials approaching with Jungkook on the back of a horse. 

Eyes widening, you throw open your gate and walk up to the official whom you recognize to be the one who’d dealt with you before. 

He gets off his horse, and Eunwoo dismounts another as they both carry Jungkook into your home. 

“What’s wrong?! What’s wrong with him?!” You cry, and Eunwoo looks at you worriedly. “I don’t know! We were carrying water back to the village when suddenly he starting screaming and then fell to the ground unconscious! Thankfully the officials were nearby when he did, so they were able to bring us back.” 

There’s a crowd of people waiting in your gate entrance, trying to peek at what’s going on. You turn to the official. 

He eyes you, “I remember you. I see that you’ve followed the law and gotten married. I’m sorry that I had to bring your husband in like this. My name is Jimin.” 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, what’s wrong?” 

Jimin shrugs. “I believe that it may be an affect of overwork? I’m not sure. You may need to consult a doctor if he doesn’t wake up soon.” 

You scoff, “He hasn’t worked before! How can it be of overwork?!” 

He shrugs again. “It is up to you, madame, but please do keep in mind that the jugs he was using were broken when he fell, and so you know owe the town money to make up for the loss.”

Your shoulders sag at the comment as the official rides away with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m just doing my job.” 

You nod at him, smiling weakly. “I understand. Thank you, sir.” 

He tips his hat to you, and before he rides away says, “You know, I’ve never met someone like you before. You remind me a lot of someone I used to know. I believe you and your husband will get through this. Good luck.” 

He rides off and you return to your room as the rest of the villagers disperse. Sighing, you sit next to Jungkook’s sleeping figure and check his pulse and put your finger under his nose to make sure he’s still breathing. Although his wounds from before had healed, he had another fresh scratch on his cheek now, you assume from the fall. 

Blinking back tears, you find some clean rags and begin cleaning the cut, gently placing a bandage on it. 

There was no god. There was no such thing as luck. You had just nearly escaped death by marrying a man you didn’t even know, and now you were in more debt than ever. This wasn’t easy at all. You wipe away tears of frustration as you watch Jungkook sleep, and eventually the exhaustion from the day becomes too much as you close your eyes too. 

Jungkook wakes up to a dark room, and a searing pain in behind his eyes. Wincing, he groans as he turns his head to the side, and stops when he sees you curled up next to him on the cold floor. You have one arm tucked underneath your head and your knees are curled up towards your chest in a form of warmth. He glances to your side to see that the first aid kit of bandages had been opened and a bowl of water and rags for his forehead. 

He turns to his side, the headache a little duller as he focuses on your features. You were quite beautiful, he thinks to himself. Not a traditional, eye-catching beauty like Jisoo’s, but a simple kind of beauty that shone through in moments like these. 

Now that you’re sleeping and not frowning or yelling at him, he sees that your eyes are quite soft, your brows framing them nicely and your skin quite smooth. Your lips soft-looking and your cheeks quite supple. You were quite cute, he thinks to himself with a slight smile. 

You seem to be having nightmares, as you suddenly shudder in your sleep and frown, a deep line setting in between your brows. He reaches out, pressing a thumb lightly to the space, and immediately, your expression softens, as you subconsciously inch closer for some warmth. He takes the blanket that’s placed over him and throws it over you, and faces you as you curl into the warmth. 

He reaches out a hand and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The headache no longer bothers him anymore. 

You wake up to the sounds of the rooster crowing and some kind of weight on your chest. When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is the face of Jungkook, and the second thing you notice is that you’re only inches away from him, his arm thrown over your shoulders as you’re cuddled up to his torso. 

With a yelp, you jump back, and that seems to wake him up. “What are you doing?!” You yell, covering your chest with your arms. “Why are we sleeping together?!” 

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and faces you with a funny expression. “You’re the one who fell asleep here next to me.” 

You frown, reaching out a putting a hand on his forehead. He slaps it away and you recoil with an eyeroll. “Are you feeling okay?” You ask, looking into his eyes to make sure he’s okay. 

He frowns. “Why am I here?” 

You sigh, leaning back against the wall. “You fell, remember? You fainted while carrying back jugs of water.” 

He frowns again, hands raking over his face. “Yes, I think I remember now...” 

You scoff. “Did you do it on purpose?” 

He turns towards you with an incredulous look. “Excuse me?” 

Crossing your arms, you face him with a hard look. “You’ve been complaining about labor ever since the day we got married. Don’t think for a second that I believe you actually passed out up there. You were fine when carrying down wood for the house. Why did you suddenly faint? You pretended so that you wouldn’t have to work, right?!” 

He faces you with wide eyes that have a tinge of anger. You’ve never seen him with that expression before. “How dare you accuse me of pretending to faint! I had a sudden headache and then I felt myself lose balance, how could you--” 

“Oh, you felt yourself lose balance? Huh?” You mock him, “Well look where it’s gotten us. You may have spent the whole day resting, but you’ve gotten us twenty more nyangs in debt than we already are, especially since you’ve already wasted all our savings on your goddamned food!” 

You stand, gathering the first aid kit and the bowl of water. Glaring back at him, you mutter, “I should have just died back then,” and slam the door shut behind you. Jungkook sighs, raking his hand over his face. 

First it was the random memory, and then now, this. It was far from over. 

For the next few days, Jungkook can’t seem to find you. You’ve completely disappeared, and no matter who he asks, he can’t seem to figure out where you’ve gone. Even your father is as confused as he is. 

Jungkook mutters to himself as he tries his best to figure out how the stove works, as it seems your father has no idea either. This week had been particularly tough, as Jungkook had to figure out when to water the plants, go get the water from the stream again with Eunwoo, clean the stables, retreive eggs from the chickens without getting his eyes clawed out, and prepare meals for himself and your father in the meantime. His back hurt like crazy, and he’d also almost gotten kicked in the arm earlier by accidentally trying to milk a male cow. He was absolutely at his wits’ end. 

Eunwoo stops by with a sheepish smile. “Jisoo offered to prepare you some fried cakes, would you like some?” Jungkook graciously accepts and Eunwoo sits next to your father as Jungkook continues muttering to himself, trying to put more kindling into the fire underneath the iron stove and poking it with a stick. “Just wait a little longer friend,” Eunwoo calls out, “Jisoo is returning soon from the market and said she’d stop by.” 

Finally, she arrives, with a big smile on her face and a package of some sorts. She greets her husband with a shy kiss. Jungkook watches as they giggle into the kiss, before Jisoo breaks apart and bounds over to Jungkook and revealing what she has. Jungkook almost falls into the fire when he sees what she’s holding. 

“Oh my! Get that out of my face!” He cries, falling backward and scrambling away from the thing. 

She frowns, “But Jungkook, you’ve been asking for fish ever since you got here. I found some fresh bass for you, for a great price at the market! We can finally have some good fish tonight!” 

Jungkook frowns at the slimy thing. It’s still alive, gills gaping for air as its eyes bulge ugly out its head and its tail still squirming about. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds back a gag. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he wheezes. 

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Can you prepare it so that I can cook it? Usually the men do that here.” 

Jungkook shakes his head no, and Eunwoo sighs, standing up and approaching them. “Here, let me help,” he says, crouching down next to the both of them and demonstrating as he retreives the kitchen knife from the counter, the same knife Jungkook had spent the entire afternoon looking for. 

He smiles at Jungkook, ever still the innocent one. “First, you have to kill it the most painless way possible, while removing the blood. You take the blade, place it under here, where the neck meets the body, and---” 

The moment Eunwoo slices the fish, Jungkook passes out again. 

“Jungkook, Jungkook!” Jisoo shakes him awake, sighing at his form. “You fainted again. But in the meantime, Eunwoo and I prepared some food for you. Hopefully you’re okay with seeing fish in an edible form. Come eat.” 

Jungkook joins them on the table and carefully lifts the table cover, sighing in relief when instead of a live fish, he sees Jisoo’s carefully cooked dinner waiting for him to eat. “Oh thank god,” he mutters, picking up his chopsticks. He happily thanks her, digging in and smiling at the taste. 

One thing he notes, is that Jisoo tends to oversalt her fish. He thinks to himself that he quite misses your cooking. 

“So Jisoo, what brings you here?” He asks, and she looks up at him with a confused expression. 

“Y/n asked me to cook you guys a meal or two while she was gone. She didn’t tell you?” 

Jungkook frowns. “I have no idea where she’s gone. I thought she’d run away because she didn’t want to have me for a husband.” 

Jisoo laughs. “No, she’ll be back. She didn’t tell me what she was doing, but she often disappears once every month for a couple days. In fact, I think that’s her coming!” 

She stands and all the men’s eyes follow as Jisoo runs to the gate, and you return, dressed in the most beautiful gown Jungkook has ever seen you in. 

It’s a beautiful soft pink, adorned with flowers and he watches you in awe as you put on a big smile and throw your arms around Jisoo in greeting. You greet your father, and when you meet his eyes, Jungkook perks up, putting on a tiny smile as he expects you to return the smile. 

But instead, you frown and just greet Eunwoo, ignoring Jungkook as you stalk back out of the gate. Jungkook jumps up, running over to follow you. 

“Where have you been!” He demands, grabbing your arm and turning you to face him. He’s breathing heavily, and his brows are furrowed as he continues to yell. “What kind of a wife leaves her husband for days without telling him where she’s gone! Did you know how worr--” He cuts himself off, blinking at his own words. 

You frown at him. “You were worried?” You cock your head at him, and he clears his throat. 

“No,” he blurts, glaring at nothing in particular. “It made me very.....uncomfortable.” 

You roll your eyes, yanking your arm out of his grip. “You make me quite uncomfortable too, got that? Because of your stupidity, I had to go work on a job for a few days to earn enough money to pay off those jugs that you broke, and made a little more to feed us for the next couple of days.” 

He frowns, “Why would you do that?” 

You give him a scoff. “Seriously? Of course I have to do this, you don’t want to work, my father isn’t making any money right now, and we’re in debt. What do you mean why?” 

“I thought you’d left me,” he says, blinking up at you and instead of the angry expression he was sporting earlier, he seems a bit softer now, a bit poutier even. 

You sigh, “Unfortunately, I can’t just up and leave because we have a contract to uphold.” 

He tugs at your skirt. “Where did you get these nice clothes?” 

Turning, you give him a smile, and Jungkook has to keep himself from smiling back. “Aren’t these beautiful? They were a gift!” 

He frowns. “A gift? From who?” 

“The general.” 

Jungkook’s fist tightens. “The general? You mean the man who you refused to marry? The work you did was for him?” 

You purse your lips. “I know how it sounds, but despite the obvious pervertedness, he still has quite an influence on our town and the only way to make enough money to cover the jugs that you broke was to help serve food at his birthday celebration.” 

Jungkook grits his teeth. “Is that why you’re wearing makeup?” 

You’re shocked that he noticed. Earlier today, one of the other waitresses that you’d been working with had offered the girls some of her own blush and lipstick, saying that when you wore some color, the officials were more likely to give bigger tips. And she was right. You’d earned enough to feed your family for a month and to cover Jungkook’s mistake. 

Shrugging, you nod. “Yes?” 

The angry expression sets in his features again. “You shall not wear makeup for that man again. This is an order.” 

You laugh at his words. “What? Are you seriously ordering me around? Why, are you jealous or something?” 

He frowns. “If these emotions running through me right now are called being ‘jealous,’ then so be it. I hate the thought of that man looking at you with makeup on and a beautiful dress and giving you money thinking that it might be a way for him to get his disgusting hands on you. You are my wife!” 

You’re shocked at his outburst, your mind completely going blank. You do what you do best, which is to bark back a retort. “Well, I wouldn’t have had to do this if it weren’t for you--” 

Jungkook leans in, cutting you off with a searing kiss. He does’t quite remember if he’s had any experience with any other women, but his body seems to recognize this. He just didn’t know how else to shut you up. He holds your waist close as he leans into you, your smell enveloping his senses as he opens his mouth to slot his lips in between yours. 

You fall silent, eyes wide as he steps closer and his tongue flicks against your lower lip quickly before he detaches from you. He first smirks at your shocked expression, and presses his lips together. “Mm,” he comments, “tastes sweet.” At your horrified expression, he leans in to wipe the corner of your mouth, successfully erasing the remnants of the color left on your lips. 

“There we go,” he quips. And leans back. When you take a breath to yell out whatever curses there are in the world at him, he stops you and goes first. 

“We may be in a contract marriage, but Term 3 clearly states that we must uphold the appearances in order to look like a married couple. You shouldn’t act like you’re single in front of that pervert in order to make up for my mistakes. For what you did I’m grateful, and I owe you a debt, but in the future, I’d like it if you would not submit yourself to those things. You are above those things.” 

You watch him silently as he continues. “Let me find out what kind of work I can do. I do not want you to be hurt anymore or have to worry about money again. I will uphold my part of the agreement.” 

He turns and walks back into the house as you watch in shock. 

You press a hand to your chest. What was this fluttering feeling for? 

Spring fades into summer as the two of you continue on living. Jungkook continues to work odd jobs here and there, and manages to make enough money to support the three of you comfortably. You’re able to start patching up the holes in the roof and the stables, and buy new clothes for yourself and Jungkook to wear comfortably. You two never speak of the kiss again, but you find that the both of you settle into a comfortable pattern of life and work. 

Towards the end of the season when the days seem to start getting cooler, one of the marketplace workers notices how hard Jungkook works, and offers him a job at the local bookstore. You and Jungkook squeal in delight at the amount that he’s making, and later to more delight, discover that he can also make much, much more transcribing books by hand for the local bookstore. So in the mornings, Jungkook goes and helps as a bookkeeper, and returns later in the afternoon to eat his dinner and the both of you work on transcribing books together. 

He teaches you to write better. Ever since you’d run away from home as a little girl, life in the village didn’t really grant you a lot of experience to continue practicing your writing. It was good, but not great. So night after night, Jungkook patiently watches you painstakingly use the brush to transcribe the stories that were the most popular. 

Together, you’d begun from novels about dragons and fairies, and when the vendor was quite pleased with how neatly the books were written, you and Jungkook were given more tasks to do, including transcribing some political and economic books. 

As the months passed, this became sort of a routine, as you’d begun using the money now to buy better ingredients for the meals you made for him at the market. Your home had now been patched up and upgraded as best as you could, and you’d bought a few more chickens and had gifted your father a new set of clothes and warm blankets. Jungkook seemed content with his now more comfortable set of new clothes and the hefty meals you prepared. Life was beginning to settle and improve. 

Jungkook frowns as he transcribes one night, “Hm,” he muses, “The King has decreed that his next youngest son shall be the next King.” 

You scoot closer to him to read what he’s looking at. You hum, “Interesting, I wonder if that will improve anything.” 

He looks at you, “What do you mean?” 

You shrug, resuming your own transcription. “Whenever the royals shuffle amongst themselves, or the generals and officials fight for the throne, it doesn’t really seem to affect us or benefit us.” 

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the announcement he was asked to reproduce. “I read in the political books I transcribed that the morals that this country was founded upon were that the King and the government must be of the people, for the people.” 

Sighing, you stare down at the political text you’d been copying. It spoke of the same values. “I know. It would be nice if we could return to a time like that, no? But unfortunately, while people like us are struggling to make ends meet and jumping for joy at the opportunity to patch up our roof, there are the royals who sit on their throne and are planning what their next party will be like, or what country they want to conquer. We are of different worlds, and it has been ages since we’ve had a King who truly cares for the people.”

Jungkook sighs. “If I were King, I would immediately do away with those stupid parties. And those disgusting men who sit in their positions without doing anything.” 

You smile at him, “Like that pig who has six concubines?”

He laughs, “Exactly like him.” You laugh back, and Jungkook has to pause for a second, as he catches himself staring at your expression in the candlelight. 

But you see him before he can stop himself, and you ask, “What, is there something on my face?” 

Jungkook sets down his brush. “You’re quite beautiful when you smile. Why don’t you do that more often?” 

Your smile falls as you coldly return to your transcription. Jungkook curses himself for asking you a question that removed the smile from your face. He also silently returns to his work, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’m not my father’s daughter, you know.” 

Jungkook’s hand pauses in his calligraphy, but he doesn’t say anything and just looks up at you as you continue in your own writing. You don’t look up to him and continue speaking. 

“I had to run, far, far away from my real home. My parents were murdered by some people, and my brother and I hid in the forest until the men were gone. I was supposed to meet my brother on the bridge near the river, but he never came back to get me.” 

“So I ran, far away, where they can’t find me and where they gave up trying to look for me. I eventually swam down the river and was found by my father, now. And even though I return to that bridge secretly every month when the moon is at its fullest, he’s never shown for the past twenty years. Although life has gotten a little better with you, I can’t say that my life was a good one, nor will it be. I’ll always be an orphan and I’ll always be the one who lost her family. So it seems that more often than not I find myself feeling sad sometimes.” 

You feel a tear roll down your cheek. It’s been a while since you shared that with anyone. The only ones being your own father and Jisoo. Suddenly, you hear him arise from his seated position near you and in moments he’s gripping you close, cradling your head close to his chest as he hugs you. 

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, and you feel it within his chest. The warmth is comforting, and you lift your hands to settle on his broad back. “Why do you say that you have no family? I read in a poem I transcribed that family is not defined by bloodlines nor wealth, but in the love and care we have for eachother. Your father loves you, and so do Jisoo and Eunwoo. And I am your family as well.” 

Your tears fall a little faster at that. A dull ache beats in the pit of your chest as he continues. “I am your husband. Jisoo and Eunwoo are our friends. Your father is my father-in-law. We are a family.” 

You sob louder in his arms and he murmurs more sweet words as he rocks you and shushes you. But the reason why you cry isn’t because he’s healing all your wounds, but because he’s healing your wounds with promises you know he can’t keep. 

He was your husband for only one year, and it’s already passed a few months, into the Autumn, which meant that its been halfway. He had no idea when he would regain his memories back, or who he was. For all you knew, he could be a general’s son, destined to go into glorious battles and lead his troops into war for the sake of the country. Or he could be a son of someone who works in the Castle, or a royal even. 

Anywho, whichever house he belonged to, it would be millions of times better than now, and you knew that he would leave without even a glance back. It was in anyone’s nature. 

So as he continues to make promises, you let him hold you a little longer, because you know that this will all come to an end someday. You apologize to whatever god is out there. You’d never been selfish. You’d always worked hard to feed and fend for your family. 

So you make one, single, selfish wish. 

I wish I could stay like this forever, and that he won’t leave me. 

Before the autumn ends, Jungkook returns one day with a tree.

“What the heck?!” You cry, as him and Eunwoo grunt with the effort of carrying the thing off the truck and burying it into the entrance of your home. “What are you doing?!”

Jungkook smiles, shoveling the dirt back into the roots. “I bought us a tree.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I can see that, but why?!”

He laughs, leaning on the shovel and laughing boyishly at you. “Look!”

He points up and although most of the branches have succumbed to the autumn weather and turned their leaves red and orange and yellow, you can see the buds of the flowers peeking through. Yellow flowers.

“Remember?” Jungkook says, wiping the sweat off his brow, “We met here, in the fields of yellow flowers.” He wiggles his brows at you.

Your heart sinks at the memory of the lie you’d told him to recite to others.

“Why?” You ask softly.

He softens at your expression approaching you and rubbing your arms. “Oh, don’t be sad. It was just so beautiful I wanted to put it here. I thought you’d like it. It’s our little inside secret.”

You blink away the tears. Why was he so kind? It made it harder to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. 

Jungkook’s heart sinks when he sees you go back into the house with slumped shoulders. He really thought you would like it.

You did like it. You loved it. That was the problem. 

You’d counted the months that had passed since your agreement, and it had been more than half a year. That quickly, life had become so adjusted to having Jungkook around, you didn’t know how to distinguish what was real or not. 

But deep down, you knew that the pang in your chest everytime he smiled at you, or the worrying feeling deep in your gut everytime he arrived home late all indicated that you indeed had developed a deep sense of...emotion for your husband. 

You were just too scared to admit it was love. 

Because for you, everytime you had fallen in love or let yourself feel love, those people or things had been taken away from you. Your only wish was that Jungkook wouldn’t be taken away. But that in itself was quite the selfish wish. He really could have been betrothed to someone out there, and there might be a woman like you, waiting for her husband to return home achingly. 

You would never wish that upon someone. 

But you can’t ignore the pain that settles in your heart when you imagine Jungkook returning home to any other woman besides yourself.

Later that week, Jungkook is taking his daily walk to the bookstore, when he pauses at the sight of a woman putting out her daily goods. She seems to own a female’s clothing store, and in the front of her display, she proudly puts a series of colorful shoes that catch his eye.

He approaches the stall, and the kind lady greets him with a smile. “Looking for a present for your wife?”

He nods, “Yes. I don’t know her taste, however.”

She laughs, “My dear, you don’t know a thing about women. It isn’t what you’re buying her. It’s that you’re buying something for her at all. Tell me a little about her.”

He muses, folding his hands behind his back. “Well, she’s about yeh tall, and seems to be a healthy weight. She always has her hair up in a--”

The lady laughs again. “No, not her features. Her personality. Tell me about her.”

Jungkook pauses, blinking down at his feet as he thinks.

“Well, first, she’s very strong. Not as in she can lift heavy things, because she can’t. I know, because she asks me to do them for her and I like doing them. But she’s strong in that I’ve never met anyone else who is as confident and fearless as she is. When I first met her, she was literally staring into the eyes of her own death without blinking. I admire that. She has no fear.”

“She’s also really kind. Underneath that fearlessness, she’s very attentive. She notices what I like to eat and don’t like to eat, and sometimes when I come home in a bad mood, she’ll do her best to prepare me a nice warm bath and extra servings of food.”

“And she’s also very delicate. She may hate to think that, but I love that underneath that hard shell, is a soft inner shell that’s kind and soft and pure. I love seeing glimpses of that while living as her husband.”

Jungkook looks up at the woman as he finishes. She has a knowing smile on her face.

“Well, dear, looks like we have a man here who’s desperately in love with his wife. For you, I’d recommend these.”

She points towards a pair of beautiful pink slippers, adorned with drawings of cherry blossoms and threaded with deep maroon thread that seemed to glisten in the sun. He smiles. They would look perfect on you.

“How much?” He asks.

She laughs, putting the shoes in a package for him. “I usually try to charge a bit more in order to make some money off of the sale, but I bought these for 10 nyangs, so I only ask for 10.”

He frowns, “Are you sure ma’am? You’d be making no profit...”

She smiles, handing over the package to him. “I’m sure. You remind me of me and my husband. That’s true love right there.”

Jungkook hands over the money with a solemn expression. “True love?”

She smiles. “Yes, dear. The kind of love that makes you fearless, the kind of selfless love. A love that you would die for. You seem young so you might be of the generation that had to marry on such short notice, but I can tell by the way you talk about her that you care for her very deeply. Only men who love their wives can talk like that. I’m happy for you. Now go and give her those shoes.”

Jungkook stares at the shoes as he walks towards the bookstore.

True love? Was it true that he’d fallen for you? He tucks them into his pocket.

Needing to think about that conversation more, he keeps the shoes in the bookstore and returns home without the present.

Jungkook watches you light up when he enters the gates in the evening, and you smile at him, gesturing to the table of food you’d prepared. “Jungkook!” You exclaim, bounding up to him, “How was work?”

“Good,” he sighs, falling into step with you as you guide him to where you’ve prepared dinner. “I’m hungry,” he smiles.

You return the smile brightly, and unveil the meal you’d prepared. “I made the fried cakes you like, and the kimchi is seasoned just right today. And I found some fresh fish at the market today, so Jisoo and I bought two to prepare for you and Eunwoo. We figured we’d treat our husbands to something nice and fattening, so that when the winter comes, you have some meat on your bones.”

Our husband. He likes the ring of that.

He digs in, listening attentively as you tell him about the town gossip, and of what happened in your day, and he reciprocates, sharing stories of the strange customers that frequented the bookstore.

When he’s finished eating, you stand to clear away his dishes, but he stops you, smiling as he takes his own dishes to the basin. “I’ll clean, you should rest.”

You smile at him and watch as he turns to clean the dishes, stacking them neatly as he finishes them one by one. When he’s finished, he joins you on your porch, as you both lean against the house and watch the stars.

The lantern beautifully lights up the underside of the tree that he’d bought, and the stars against the beautiful night sky makes this a scene that takes his breath away.

The wind blows a bit colder tonight, and when he sees you shudder, he lets you lean against him as he curls an arm around you. The both of you fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the stars.

“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs, watching your face lit up by the warm candlelight as you watch the sky.

You have a small smile on your lips as you gaze. “Just about how happy I am right now. I really like the tree, I wish I told you earlier.”

Jungkook smiles, looking at you knowingly. “I thought you didn’t like it cause it was a waste of our money.”

You turn to him with wide eyes, “No, no, that’s not it.” You chuckle, “I like it very much, thank you.”

Jungkook lets you settle back into his warmth as you both continue to look at the stars. His eyes drift downward to the tree, which is fluttering slightly in the wind. The leaves are beginning to fall. His eyes continue to trail downward, and he rests on your feet, and how the hemp straw shoes that you wore were beginning to fall apart a bit at the sides.

He bites his lip. It was still a bit longer until the streets would close. Maybe he had a little bit of time.

He stands, holding a hand out to you, “Will you come with me somewhere?”

You take his hand, confusedly following as he makes a beeline for the gate. “Where are we going?  At this time in the evening?”

He doesn’t reply as he continues down the road towards the market, stalking quickly and determinedly towards the bookstore. Your cheeks flame at the fact that his hand is tightly wrapped around yours.

“Did you forget to bring some books back from the bookstore?” You ask, struggling to keep up, but when he arrives at the store, he faces you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, and you confusedly take a seat in front of the store as he unlocks the door and rummages around for something. “Aha!” He cries from inside, and you crane your neck to try and peer into the store, but he calls out, “close your eyes!” from inside.

You frown, yelling back, “Why?”

He yells back, “I’m not coming out until you promise to keep your eyes closed.”

You laugh a little, but reply, “Okay, fine!” And close your eyes.

You hear him peep out to check if you were telling the truth, and then after confirming that you were, indeed, closing your eyes as you’d promised, he shuffles out towards you.

You hear him kneel in front of you, and suddenly, he grips your ankle and takes your straw shoes off. Your eyes fly open in shock and you gasp. “What’re you doing?”

He looks up at you with a soft smile. “You broke the promise, you were supposed to keep your eyes shut.”

You frown at him. “What?”

He shakes his head a little, but grins up at you anyways. “Well since you have your eyes open, you can watch me do this.”

He peels open a paper package to reveal two dainty shoes, pink and made with the finest fabrics and thread. He gently places one of them on your foot. A weight settles deep into your chest at the way he smiles at you after he’s done.

“I wanted to buy you something meaningful, not something for the house or something we can both enjoy like the tree, but something specifically for you. I saw these on my way to work today.”

Your eyes fill with tears as you look down at the way the shoes adorn your feet. It’s been years since you’ve been able to wear shoes like these. And these were perfect. Too perfect.

This was beginning to become too perfect. It scared you like hell. 

The next morning, you wake Jungkook up with a solemn expression, and he’s immediately worried. He’s become quite sensitive to your mood changes and emotions, and he can tell by the way you speak or the way you make your way around the kitchen that you have something on your mind. 

As he eats, you take a deep breath, and speak. 

“I think you should go with my father today and visit the river where he found you.” 

Jungkook stops with a mouthful of rice. “What?” 

“You should try to find your memory soon. Maybe going to the river may trigger your memory to come back again.” 

He sets his soon spoon, looking at you with a heavy expression. “And then? If I find my memories again?” 

You stare down at your hands, lip trembling a bit at the next part. “We agreed that if you found your memory, we would revisit the contract’s terms. But I thought it would be a good idea for you to at least try.” 

Jungkook sighs, as he glares at the tree and how the leaves are beginning to fall and create a pile of dead color on the ground. He had just gotten into a routine, feeling more and more content about staying here with you. He’d even had a moment last night when he’d wanted to confess that he’d fallen in love with you, and that he was considering just continuing to live here with you. 

But it seems like you had different ideas. 

He clears his throat, finishing off his cup of water. “Good idea,” he grits, squaring his shoulders. If this was what you wanted, then he would do anything for you. 

He stands. “Thank you for breakfast, I think if we are to find out something today, we should leave as soon as possible. I’ll go next door and let father know that we’ll be leaving soon.” He leaves without another word, nor a look in your direction. 

The tear that had been balancing on your lashes finally falls. 

This was all for his own good. 

Jungkook and your father begin a trip with a couple more townspeople who are trekking up the mountains to obtain some more water for the coming cold season. The villagers bring along some donkeys and horses to help carry the heavy jugs, while Jungkook and his partner are empty handed. Their mission wasn’t to find water, it was to find the truth. 

As they walk up the winding path, Jungkook and your father fall behind a bit as your father begins explaining some things here and there. 

“This path we’re on,” he whispers to Jungkook, “Is the path that I brought you down from the river. We’re almost there.”

“Father,” Jungkook murmurs, “What was I wearing when you found me? And where did you keep me?” 

His father-in-law cranes his neck as he looks at the direction the rest of the villagers were heading in. “Follow me,” he whispers, and heads towards the fork in the road and begins climbing a different road than the group. Jungkook follows, stumbling over rocks and tree roots as they climb into a different side of the road into a small clearing, where Jungkook can see a tiny series of huts sits, made of straw and wood. 

His father-in-law climbs into one of them, and knocks politely on the door. 

Immediately, it opens to reveal a very old man, who greets you father with a stern smile, and then settles his gaze on Jungkook. 

“Oh, you’re alive!” The grandpa exclaims. Jungkook confusedly asks, “I’m sorry, how do we know eachother?” 

Your father pipes up. “This is the mountain healer. He’s the one who helped nurse you back to health when I found you nearby. Here, look, I even kept the clothes that you were wearing when I found you.” The grandpa holds out a package for Jungkook, and he frowns, holding it close. 

He gives the healer a deep bow. “Thank you very much, I owe you my life.” 

The healer laughs, clapping Jungkook on the back. “Seems like you’ve recovered very well. You look quite healthy and strong.” 

Your father chuckles, “Actually, elder, we’ve come to re-visit you to inquire of some questions. Jungkook here still hasn’t found his memory, and we believe that it’s because of his injury that he’s not able to remember where he’s from or even what his previous name is. Do you remember anything while you were nursing him back to health?” 

The elderly healer frowns, as he cocks his head. Jungkook takes a seat next to him, leaning in to hear what he has to say. 

“I remember not much, but I do recall that you did talk a lot in your sleep when you were healing. You would sometimes burst into incoherent yelling, or sometimes talk with a stern voice.” 

Jungkook leans in. “What did I say?” 

“I don’t recall much, but I do remember you talking about the ‘Road that Winds to the East,’ whatever that means.” 

Jungkook frowns and turns to your father. “Does that mean anything, father?” 

He frowns too, “Well there are only a few main roads here in these woods, and most of them I know by heart. Elder, may I borrow your map?” 

He retreieves it from a cabinet as your father continues to speaking. “Look, this road that we just came in from leads to the North. The only road that would go from the East and West would be this one. But there’s no way...” 

“Why?” Jungkook asks. 

“That’s the road that leads to and from the Castle and the Capitol.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he stares at the road that indeed winds directly from the capitol towards the forest that he was found in. He’s about to ask the elder another question when suddenly, there’s a bit of commotion outside. 

Eunwoo barges into the hut, panting heavily as he wipes his sweat away. “Jungkook! Father! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! The group said that you’d broken off from them a bit back so I borrowed a horse and came here. You need to hurry! You need to go back!” 

Jungkook stands, frowning as he helps Eunwoo take a seat. “What’s wrong?!” 

Eunwoo stares up at Jungkook with eyes full of fear. “Y/N! She’s been taken! She’s in danger!” 

You’d spent most of the afternoon blinking and wiping away tears as you wove as many baskets as you could. But the moisture in your eyes prevented you from clearly seeing the needle you were working with, so your fingers were horribly sore and swollen by the time the sun was at its highest point. 

Sighing, you lean back and close your eyes, head heavy as you think of how Jungkook might not return today. 

Suddenly, you hear your gate being thrown open, as a group of men in dark colored, torn clothes enter your property. Immediately you stand, clenching your fists. “Who are you?!” 

The men ignore you, only one glancing your way as they begin to ransack your home, ignoring your screams. You flail and beat your fists against them as they tear open the doors of your new house, throwing the closet doors open and rustling through the clothes and blankets. Another destroys the chicken coop and another kicks the doors of your father’s place open and does the same to his belongings. 

“What are you doing!” You scream, crying as the men destroy in minutes what you and Jungkook had worked tirelessly to create and repair. “Stop! How dare you!” 

The ringleader gets tired of your screams and slaps you straight across your face. The impact and the shock makes you tumble back, hand held to the burning cheek in terror. “Shut up, bitch! We’ve gotten orders from the general officer that you and your husband owe him a debt. We’re here to collect on his orders.”

You scream back in shock. “That swine? I owe him nothing! What are you talking about?! I never borrowed anything from him!” 

One of his men emerges from your bedroom, holding up the pink dress that you and the other waitresses had been gifted after the idiot’s birthday party celebration. “Sir! Look what I found!” 

The ringleader smiles nastily down at you. “So you’re lying to me, eh? How does a poor woman like you afford a dress like this? And shoes like yours?” 

You look down at the shoes on your feet, now scuffed from the dirt when he’d hit you. “They were bought with our hard earned money! We have no fault!” You rush up to him and try to wrestle the dress out of his hands, but he’s stronger than you and grips your wrists as you struggle. Suddenly, you feel a searing pain on your back and everything goes black. 

When you come to, you panic at the feeling of your hands being immobile, and then you realize that the rest of your body is bound tightly against a tree trunk with some thick rope. 

You scream, struggling against the ropes, but the ringleader from earlier comes into your line of vision, smirking nastily as he surveys how you struggle. “We sent someone to go find your husband. Either he can bring us the money, or we can just sell you off to some hostels and get the money ourselves. It’s his choice.” 

Your eyes widen. “What?! My husband?!” 

He nods. “Hopefully he’ll come. I heard that the marriage was done last minute, but hopefully he loves you enough to know that the moment he refuses to comply to our terms, it’s over for the both of you.” 

He smiles at you, his disgusting breath fanning over your face as you glare in horror at him, “In fact,” he says, tilting his head and turning around, “here someone comes.” 

You hear it too, the sound of heavy horse steps beating the ground as you see Jungkook approaching on a horse that you’ve never seen before. You scream out as soon as he stops the animal, “No! Don’t come any closer! Run!” You struggle and wriggle against the bindings as much as you can, but the men have already surrounded the horse and your husband, and Jungkook dismounts easily, facing the men with a hard glare. 

He takes one look at you and gives you a nod as you cry and struggle against the rope, but it doesn’t give much slack. He reaches up into the saddle of the horse to pull out a long bamboo stick, and immediately lunges for one of the men. 

You watch in shock as he deftly uses the stick to go nimbly for the vulnerable parts of each man, crouching under the swing of their swords and using that moment to hit the stiff bamboo against their shins or their kneecaps, or using it to knock the air out of their lungs with a hard swing to their chest or shoulders. 

Jungkook uses a tree to jump off of as he hits a man on his head, and uses the dazed burglar as leverage to kick another in the chest. In that moment though, he stumbles to the ground, and the searing pain in his head returns again. 

A rustle sounds from near him, and then a shout, and then aching pain in his shoulder. A sword is pointed at him, and he is able to just catch the emblem engraved on the hilt before it’s raised high and whipping towards him.

It was exactly the same vision he’d had when he was getting water. But this time there was more. 

He raises his gaze and sees that the one who wields the sword has a gaze so sharp and fierce, that it takes his breath away. 

In the moment of distraction, one of the burglars manages to get his sword close enough to deliver a slice on Jungkook’s bicep. He cries out, stumbling as you scream his name, but he picks himself back up and charges towards the men.

He finishes them off one by one, and you watch in amazement and horror as your husband neatly lands on the ground with all the men groaning in pain. 

You see a movement in the corner of your eye and see that the ringleader is reaching over for his sword on the ground, and you cry, “Jungkook! Look out!” 

Jungkook turns, immediately catching sight of him and runs over, kicking the sword away and flipping it up with his feet. It lands neatly in his hand and he points the tip at the ringleader’s neck with a movement so fast you hear the sound of the sword slicing the air. Jungkook frowns. “You should probably leave, and never come back, now that I have a sword in my hands. I can do much more damage with this than I did with the bamboo stick.” 

The ringleader spits a mouthful of blood, and in seconds, him and his helpers scramble out of the woods, tail in between their legs as they limp away. 

When they’re all out of sigh, Jungkook immediately turns and runs over to you, using the sword to cut away all of the ropes. As soon as your hands are free, you lunge towards him, throwing your arms around his shoulders as you sob into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, “It’s all my fault, I should have never gone to that man’s birthday celebration. I should’ve never believed him,” and Jungkook just holds you close, his large hands spanning across your back as he presses you close to him. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he whispers, and he pulls back to survey your face. He softly ghosts a thumb over the red mark on your cheek, eyebrows furrowing at the mark. “Did he hit you?” 

You nod, hand coming up to cup the sore spot. His jaw grits, “I should’ve killed him.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. Please, let’s just go home. I’ll be okay. What about your arm?” Your hands grab for him, and when you push up his sleeve, you see that the cut isn’t very deep, but it bleeds nonetheless, staining his clothes. 

Your eyes widen, tears brimming as you scramble to find the hem of your dress to tear a piece of fabric away, but he stops you, your hand enclosed in his fist. He gives you a gentle smile. “I’ll be okay, wife. Don’t ruin your clothes for this, either.”  

He helps you up and onto the back of his horse, and you lean into his back, arms clasped around his waist as he leads the both of you in the direction to where home is. You mutter in his ear. “When did you learn to ride a horse? And to fight like that?” 

Jungkook frowns, “I’m not sure. When I heard you were in danger, I just took the first and fastest thing I could find, which was Eunwoo’s horse. And then when I got here...I just didn’t think.” 

You rest your head on his shoulder blade. “If you know how to write, how to read, fight, and horseback ride, you must have been from an affluent family.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He now realizes that in the hurry to get back to you, he’d dropped the package that contains the clothes he was found in. He hopes that either your father or Eunwoo had enough sense to bring it back home with them. He makes a different turn with the horse than the one you’re used to. 

“Where are we going?” 

He turns back to smile at you. “Do you trust me?” 

He rides for a little bit until he arrives at a meadow, and your eyes go wide at the scene. It’s the field of yellow flowers. Now that the autumn is almost over, the summer wild flowers are now receding from their full bloom, and the fields are now a beautiful golden color as the green begins to fade away into  a beautiful beige and yellow golden field. You gasp as Jungkook helps you dismount, and you marvel at the beautiful scene against the backdrop of the beautiful sunset. Everything was golden. 

His voice sounds from behind you. “You told me to tell others that you and I fell in love here in these fields.” 

You nod, still staring at the scene. “It was always a dream of mine, to fall in love in these fields. They’re absolutely beautiful.” 

You hear his footsteps approach, and he stands in front of you, in his beauty. “Can’t it become true?” 

Your eyes widen as your mouth drops slightly. “What? What are you talking about?” 

He reaches for your hand. “Today I realized, that that I am in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure. I thought they might be feelings of filial love, out of duty or just a camaraderie from spending the past few months with you. But today, when I dropped everything in order to come for you, and when I saw you tied up to that tree with that bruise on your face, I couldn’t think or see anything. I knew that I had to save you. If it meant dying, then I knew in that moment that I would die fighting to protect you.” 

Your tears fall as your breath gets caught in your throat. He just smiles down softly at you. 

“Would it be so terrible, if we actually did fall in love in these fields?” He whispers, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Would it be so far from your dreams if I were to continue to be your husband?” 

You shake your head, and whisper, “No,” you hiccup, “it would be absolutely perfectly perfect,” before he leans down and captures your lips in his. 

Unlike the kiss you had earlier in the spring, this one is hungry, and desperate. He holds you to him like you might fade away, and his lips hungrily swipe across yours as if its a declaration, a mark of his true dedication to you. Your tears fall and he easily swipes them away with his thumbs as you clutch him and press yourself up against him as close as you can, breathing in his scent, feeling him, perfectly lined up against you. 

You both return and deal with the hysterics of your father, Eunwoo, and Jisoo. Some of the villagers have come to help you repatch the things that the burglars destroyed, and after they’re finished, the moon is high into the air and most of everything back to normal. You would have to pay to get some things re-done and patched up, but the selfless villagers had done more than enough to help you and Jungkook. 

While you and Jisoo go aside to prepare some dinner for everyone who helped, your father pulls Jungkook aside. 

“Here,” he says, handing Jungkook the paper package. “I brought this to give to you.” 

Jungkook thanks him as he stares meaningfully down at the package. Your father peers at him, “Aren’t you going to open it? What you were wearing might hold an important clue to who you were before all of this.” 

Jungkook smiles, clutching the package in his fist. “No, father.” He leads him over to the campfire in the center of the yard, and tosses the paper package into the flames. Both men watch as the package burns quickly, the sparks flying into the night sky. Jungkook murmurs only loud enough for your father to hear. “I would rather live as Y/n’s husband happily, than to go back to a past that I might not be as happy in.” He turns to the elder. “Father, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand.” 

The elder man laughs, staring and sighing up at the sky. “My dear boy, I’ve thanked the gods every single day that you were the one I found. Even though it was only meant for a year, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy.” At those words, the two of them look over to you, who’s happily serving dishes to everyone who’d volunteered to help, laughing and smiling and drinking with them as they cheer and dig into the hefty dinner. 

Your father grips Jungkook’s hand in his. “All I ask is that you cherish her. She deserves it.”

Jungkook smiles. “I know, father. She does deserve it.” 

From the side, Eunwoo notices that Jungkook and your father murmuring to themselves quietly before joining the dinner table. When he returns from using the restroom, he sees something golden glinting within the glowing embers of the fire. 

Later that evening, after all the guests had left and your father had fallen asleep, you draw Jungkook a bath after you’d washed up yourself, and you wait as you stare up at the stars on your porch. 

Suddenly, you feel arms wrap around you from behind, and your soft gasp turns into a giggle as Jungkook presses his lips to your neck, tickling you. “Are you all done?” You whisper, and he nods, snuggling in closer to you. Your cheeks turn incredibly hot as you realize he’s not wearing a shirt and the arms around you and the chest pressed against you are bare. 

Your eyes drift down, and catch sight of the cut from earlier on his bicep. Turning in his embrace, you press a light kiss against his chin. “I need to dress your injury,” you say, and he glances down at it as if he’d forgotten, and you follow him into your bedroom. 

The candlelight does nothing to hide the hotness of your cheeks as he stares at you deeply as you clean and dress the wound. Once you’re all finished, you’re already breathing heavily under the heaviness of his gaze, and when you look up at him through your lashes, he smiles at the look on your face and leans in to press his lips against yours. 

They press against your mouth, letting you relax into him, and then he grips your waist, hoisting you up onto his lap as you gasp into the kiss. He takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, licking softly against yours and tasting you as you steady yourself with hands on his bare shoulders. 

His hands grip you through your dress, but they drift upwards to where your top is, undoing the ribbon there easily and casting away the top layer. You pant as he leans in to press his lips against your neck and chest, the only thing you can hear right now is the flickering of the fire outside, the soft puckers of his lips against your skin, and the heavy pants you let out at the way his lips make your mind go completely blank. 

He peels back the white layer of your underdress, your breasts falling out from the constrictive material and his hands come to cup them worshippingly, his lips immediately kissing the soft skin there and then lowering to capture a nipple and suck lightly. 

You gasp and cry out at the sensation, feeling a wetness pool in between your legs at the sensation and grip the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing his heat closer to you. “Please,” you pant, “I can’t wait.” 

He chuckles against your skin, pulling back to smile up at your exasperated expression. “You’re so beautiful, I want to savor this,” he mutters, a hand coming up to tug your hair out of the bun you always wore it in, and the locks tumble out across your back. He threads his fingers through them softly, look at the view of you perched naked on his lap, trembling and lit up by the soft glow of the candlelight. 

He presses a kiss against your lips as his hands slide under your dress and between your thighs, fingers pressing questioningly into the wetness he finds there. 

You moan at the sensation, grinding against his fingers as they circle the pebble there that incites an incredible feeling of pleasure. He leans forward until you’re spread out on the sheets, naked and panting for him. 

It’s your time being touched by a man, but Jungkook makes it seem like it’s the last. He holds you delicately in a way you’ve never been held before, his narrow hips slotting in between your thighs as he whispers sweet nothings into your lips. He carves his name into your mouth with his tongue, panting impossible breaths into your neck as he presses himself deep into your center, pushing past the wetness and settling deep within your hips as he begins to rock against you, his hands sliding into yours. 

And as you moan and cry out his name, you’re completely and absolutely blown away by how exactly perfectly perfect it is. 

#jungkook fics #bts fics #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #writing #fics #mine #jungkook #1 year my love

[momowho34]

Time for another naruto au post that so long and complicated it might aswell be a fic in and of itself. Why am I like this :,) Naruto au where Itachi runs away from the village with Sasuke in tow and doesn’t leave him behind. Also Itachi is a little older then a teenager because it makes more sense. Buckle up this is a long one.

Itachi refuses to kill his family and runs to warn them but when he gets there everybody’s dead except for Sasuke, (who witnessed the whole thiNG OOPSY-) so he takes him and runs for their lives.

Itachi joins the akatsuki but uhhhhh now there’s a four year old tagging along and Itachi’s too scary for anybody to mention it.

Imagine the fluff and angst potential with the akatsuki oooooof there’s so much omg

At first they all think it’s super annoying but within like two days they would all gladly die for this kid. Seriously they were pretty sure their hearts were made of stone at this point but apparently not.

Kisame is surprisingly really good with kids, partly because he appears fairly calm on the outside without being too standoffish so Sasuke likes him best. Also Kisame could happily play peek-a-boo for the rest of his life he likes the small things

Kakazu is awful with kids but sasuke likes him anyway and he hates it (not really) Hidan.... really doesn’t know what to do. He’s never cared about another person in his life, okay? He kind of wants to kill the small child but he knows Itachi would steal his fucking knee caps and bury him at the bottom of the ocean so he doesn’t even mention it ever

Sasori is the mom when Itachi isn’t around. They would all feed him candy until he fucking died if Sasori didn’t stop that. Sasori is also the one to go “oh my GOD Deidara you can’t dare him to climb that mountain he could fall and hit his head no I don’t care about that deidaRA HE IS SEVEN YEARS OLD ITACHI IS GOING TO KILL YOU WHEN HE GETS HOME MARK MY WORDS—“

Tobi likes to blame all of his mistakes on Sasuke as a joke. Also they all teach Sasuke bits of their fighting styles so he becomes even more formidable and all of them are kind of freaked out by how quickly he masters their techniques

When he’s too young to tag along on missions he has to stay with Konan and Pain. He really values Konan because she’s really the only one of them who treats him like a person instead of a stupid child that needs protection.

“He costs too much,” Kakazu says. “He shouldn’t be here, what about how much it costs for him to stay with us” all while consistently finding room in the budget to get the kid anything and everything even though he’s fairly low maintenance to take care of

When Itachi arrives, everybody tries to disregard the rumors paired with Sasuke being there. Because of Itachi’s overall demeanor and Sasuke’s refusal to talk about it, they assume that he killed his family but didn’t kill his little brother for some reason

...And then Sasuke starts having nightmares. Like loud, screaming and crying in the middle of the night nightmares. Every time it happens, Itachi wakes up, calm and collected, and holds him until he falls asleep again. They all start having doubts about Itachi really killing his family.

Itachi doesn’t really hold a grudge against Konoha, but he didn’t see the whole family die like Sasuke did. Sasuke wants revenge, and he’s dead set on it.

Okay yeah but what abt the actual plot and stuff??? Don’t worry I’m there.

So a while later after that during Naruto’s three year journey (which he still takes with Jiraiya because he needs training to fight Orochimaru who is still a big threat btw) he meets this weird black haired kid staying at the same hotel he is.

Turns out they’ve both got caretakers who are absent (Jiraiya’s at a brothel somewhere and Kisame and Itachi are off killing some guy) which sucks so they bond over that and compare abilities and beat the shit out of eachother a little and develop a mini rival complex all of that but then

“Wow you’re so cool! You fight just like a ninja! You should come back with me!” Naruto laughs one day. Sasuke asks “Back to where?” And Naruto’s like “back to the leaf village of course! I’m a leaf village ninja, I’m out here training with my sensei! I forgot that I left my headband in the room, I can show it to you.” But Sasuke just gets really pale and runs off and Naruto doesn’t see him for the rest of the trip.

He thought he’d never see him again but then Sasuke gets separated from the Akatsuki members reeeaaaallly far away from their base and Konoha. As he’s trying to figure out what to do, a certain ninja crew happens to be in town. Naruto is like “omfg I know this kid!!!!!!!! Hey Sasuke!!!!! Hey Sasukeeeee!!!!!”

Sasuke is like o-o but then he starts to consider his options. If anybody figures out about his sharingan, he’s straight up fucked. His eyes are gone, he probably gets murdered. Naruto is like “what r u doing here????” And sasuke spins a fairly convincing story

He’s like “oh yeah and I know my way around this place so I can help you out could I maybe seek asylum in your village maybe??? I could be helpful” just so he can head in the general direction of Konoha and hopefully get closer to his base along the way.

So Kakashi begrudgingly agrees and Sasuke tries not to burn alive because he’s in the general proximity of leaf soldiers that he fucking hates and he will not grow attached to any of them at all no siree, not at all, no way!

Sasuke begins to grow close to them, of course. Sai and Sasuke do goth shenanigans and he fights with Naruto and tries to get Sakura to leave him alone (what is up with her why is she being so weird?)

Oh bonus angst: Tobi used to talk in his sleep sometimes, and at some point Sasuke drops “those who break the rules are scum, but those who leave their friends behind are worse then scum” casually and Kakashi almost has a full blown panic attack.

This is when he first realizes something is seriously up with this kid; and his first name sounds... familiar. His suspicions are just suspicions until they run into Orochimaru. Now Orochimaru could just out Sasuke as akatsuki, instead he plays with his feelings a little bit. He keeps saying things like “how does it feel to fight on the same side as your enemies for once?” And “have you forgotten already?” They defeat him without Sasuke revealing his sharingan but the jig is up in Kakashi’s mind.

Kakashi doesn’t quite connect the dots; but he’s almost there. Whoever this kid is, they’re coming back to the village for sure. It’s the safest thing to do. Meanwhile the Akatsuki are freaking out. Itachi is unhinged and almost grieving, they have no idea where Sasuke could be. The team is out in full force; including Tobi

And you know, Obito doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care, nothing matters in this false reality. It just doesn’t. Tobi might have given a shit about Sasuke, but Tobi isn’t real. He’s just a front, Tobi doesn’t exist. So why is he looking so hard for this stupid kid that he shouldn’t give a shit about? Obito convinces himself it’s just a front, it’s just part of Tobi’s act, but it’s not. What’s happening to him? Why is starting to feel things now, so deep into the plan?

Annnnnndddd that’s as far as I got with it lmao. That’s still pretty fucking far tho

#shitpost #naruto #naruto shitposting #naruto shitpost omg #naruto au #nar au #au #fanfic #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #naruto fandom #narusasu #sns #naruto uzamaki #sasuke uchiha #pain akatsuki #nagato akatsuki #akatsuki #hidan akatsuki #sasori #itachi and kisame #kisame and itachi #Itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha #uchiha clan #obito

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

#dbd x reader #ghostface x reader #the ghostface #ghostface dbd #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen #danny johnson #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight

[jayoctodot]

The Silent Patient vs The Maidens

I will start by saying that I understand the appeal of these novels as page-turners. They are easy to read and if you want a twisty reveal at the end, you will probably be entertained and satisfied. That being said, I am SO CONFUSED by the near-universal adoration of The Silent Patient and the reasonably positive reception of The Maidens. The weaknesses of the two are strikingly similar, as well, which doesn’t give me much hope of seeing improvement from this guy, though I am intrigued to see whether he keeps repeating the same (apparently successful!!) patterns. These books were at least super fun to hate.

(For context, I read The Maidens for a bookclub I'm in, because several of the members had read and loved The Silent Patient, and one of them gave me a copy of the latter to read on my own time. I loathed The Maidens and then read The SP for comparative purposes. And because I'm a masochist, apparently.)

SPOILER WARNING! Do not read on unless you've finished both books (or unless you care not for spoilers). Sorry if it gets a bit shouty.

Here are the similar weaknesses I noticed in both:

PSEUDO-PSYCHOLOGY

-> Weirdly similar “group therapy” scenes early on where a cartoonishly unstable patient arrives late, disrupts the meeting by throwing something into the middle of the circle, and is asked to join the group after the therapist(s) speechify on the importance of boundaries (HA! None of these therapists would know an appropriate boundary if it kicked them in the ass) and debate whether to “allow” the patient to join. Both scenes are so transparent in their design to establish the credibility/legitimacy of the narrators as therapists, but instead both Theo and Mariana come off as super patronizing. The protagonists are less and less believable as therapists at the stories progress (though at least Theo’s incompetence is explained away by the “twist” at the end; Mariana, on the other hand, is confronted in the opening pages of the novel by a patient who has self-harmed PRETTY extensively, and rather than ensure he get proper medical attention, she essentially throws him a first aid kit and tosses him out the door so she can pour herself a glass of wine and call her niece... and it devolves from there).

-> Ongoing insistence throughout the narrative that one’s childhood trauma entirely explains the warped/dysfunctional way a character behaves or views the world, which is why the books go out of their way to give EVERY potentially violent character a traumatic childhood; when Theo insists that no one ever became an abuser who hadn’t been abused themselves, I wanted to throw the book across the room. (That is a MYTH, SIR. GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR ARMCHAIR PSYCHOLOGY.)

-> Female murderers whose pathology boils down to “history of depression” and “traumatized by a male loved one/family member.” Because, as we all know, depression + abuse = murderer!

-> The “therapy” depicted in both books is laughable and so so unrealistic, mostly because neither narrators function as therapists so much as incompetent detectives, obsessively pursuing a case they have no place pursuing (or skill to pursue - both just happen across every clue mostly by way of clunky conversation with all the people who can provide precisely the snippet of info to send them along to the next person, and the next… until all is revealed in a tired, cliched “twist”). Their constant Psych 101 asides were so tiresome and weirdly dated (also, the constant harping on countertransference got so ridiculous that at one point during "therapy" Theo literally attributes his headache and a particular emotion he feels to Alicia, as though the contents of her head are being broadcast directly into his mind... and I'm PRETTY SURE that's not how it works???)

CHARACTERS

-> Psychotherapist narrators with abusive fathers and pretensions of being Sherlock Holmes, which results in both characters crossing ALL KINDS of ethical lines as they invade the personal lives of everyone even tangentially connected to their cases (and, in Theo's case, violate all kinds of patient confidentiality. Yeah, yeah, by the end, that's the least of his offenses, but before you get there, it's baffling that NO ONE is calling him out on this).

-> All female characters are either elderly with hilariously bad advice, monstrous hulking brutes, or beautiful bitches (except for ~MARIANA~, who is Bella Swan-esque in her unawareness of her own attractiveness, despite multiple men trying to get with her almost immediately after meeting her. I'm so tired of beautiful female characters being oblivious to their own hotness. Are we meant to believe all mirrors and male attention have escaped their notice? If it’s to make them “relatable,” this tactic really fails with me).

-> All characters of color are shallow, cartoonish side characters, and most of them are depicted as unsympathetic minor antagonists (the Sikh Chief Inspector in The Maidens continuously drinks tea from an ever-present thermos, and his only other notable characteristic is his instant dislike of Mariana, whom he VERY RIGHTLY warns to stay out of the investigation that she is VERY MUCH compromising… the Caribbean manager of the Grove is universally disliked by her staff for enforcing stricter safety regulations at the bafflingly poorly run mental institution, because HOW DARE SHE. There's a very clear vibe that we're supposed to dislike these characters and share the protagonists' indignation, but honestly Sangha/Stephanie were completely in the right for trying to shut down their wildly inappropriate investigations).

-> "Working class" characters (or basically anyone excluded from the comfortably upper-crust, educated main cadre of characters) are few and far between in both stories, but when they show up, he depicts them as such caricatures. We got Elsie the pathologically lying housekeeper in the Maidens, who is enticed to share her bullshit with cake, and then a TOOTHLESS LEPRECHAUN DEALING DRUGS UNDER A BRIDGE in the SP. I kid you not, a man described as having the body of a child, the face of Father Time, and no front teeth, emerges from beneath a bridge and offers to sell Theo some "grass." I was dyinggg.

-> There are no characters to root for. Anywhere. Partly because they’re all so thinly drawn — and because we’re clearly supposed to view almost ALL of them as potential suspects, so they’re ALL weird, creepy, or incompetent in some way.

-> The flimsiest of flimsy motives, both for the narrators and the murderers. Theo fully would have gotten away with his involvement in the murder if he hadn't gone out of his way to work at the Grove and "treat" Alicia and his justification for doing so is pretty weak; his rapid descent into stalking and murder fantasy and his random ass decision to "expose" Alicia's husband as a cheater with a spur-of-the-moment home invasion and staged attempted homicide is ONLY justified if the reader hand waves it away as WELP, HE'S CRAZY, I GUESS (after all, he DID have an abusive father and a history of mental illness, and in Michaelides novels, that's ALL YOU NEED to become a violent psycho). I guess we're lucky Mariana didn't also start dropping bodies (because the logic of his fictional universe says she should definitely be a murderer by now... maybe that'll be his Maidens sequel?). But she especially had NO reason to randomly turn detective - and she kept trying to justify it by saying she needed to re-enter the world or that Sebastian would want her to (??), even though she had no background in criminal psychology... or even a particular fondness for mysteries (really, I would've accepted ANYTHING to explain her dogged obsession with the case. WHY were Sebastian and Zoe so certain she would insert herself into the investigation just because one of Zoe's friends was the first victim? WHY?). As for Zoe and Alicia, their motives are mere suggestions: they were both abused and manipulated, and voila! Slippery slope to murder.

WRITING STYLE

-> Incessant allusions to Greek tragedy and myth, apparently to provide a sophisticated gloss over the bare-bones writing style, which opts more for telling than showing and frequently indulges in hilariously bizarre analogies. Credit where credit is due — the references to Greek myth are less clunky in the SP, and I liked learning about the Alcestis play/myth, which I hadn’t heard of before - but OMG the entire characterization of Fosca, who we are meant to believe is a professor of Greek tragedy at one of the most respected universities on the planet, is just absurd. His "lecture" on the liminal in Greek tragedy is essentially the Wikipedia page on the Eleusinian Mysteries capped off with some Hallmark-card carpe diem crap. The lecture hall responds with raucous applause, clearly never having heard such vague genius bullshit before.

-> Super clunky and amateurish narrative device of interludes written by another character; Sebastian’s letter reads like a mashup of Dexter monologues and Clarice’s memory of the screaming sheep, but by FAR the worse offender is Alicia’s diary, where we’re supposed to believe she painstakingly recorded ENTIRE CONVERSATIONS, BEAT-BY-BEAT DIALOGUE, even when she’s just been DRUGGED TO THE GILLS with morphine and has mere moments of consciousness left… and even before that, she literally takes the time to write “He's trying the windows and doors! ...Someone’s inside! Someone’s inside the house! ETC ETC” when she thinks her stalker has broken in downstairs. WHO DOES THAT?)

-> Speaking of dialogue, the dialogue is so bad. Based on his bio, Michaelides got a degree in screenwriting, which makes his terrible dialogue even more baffling.

-> HILARIOUSLY rendered voyeur scenes where the narrators spy on couples having sex. Such unintentionally awkward descriptions. First we had Kathy’s climax sounds through the trees and then the bowler hat carefully placed on a tombstone before the gatekeeper plows a student. Again, I died.

PLOT/"TWIST"

-> The CONSTANT red herrings make for such an exhausting read. Michaelides drops anvils with almost every character that are so obviously meant to designate them as suspects in our minds. There is absolutely no subtlety in his misdirections.

-> The “crossover” scene between the SP and The Maidens makes no sense - when in the timeline does Mariana’s story overlap with Theo’s? They confer just before Theo starts working at the Grove, obviously (though Mariana appears to be the one who alerts Theo to the job opening there? Whereas in the SP, Theo has been obsessively tracking Alicia since the murder and had already planned to apply to work there?), but then are we supposed to believe that while Theo has been psychotically pursuing his warped quest to “help” Alicia, he’s also been diligently treating Zoe, so invested in her case that he repeatedly reaches out to Mariana to get her to visit Zoe and even writes Mariana a lengthy letter to convince her to do so??? And then a couple days after The Maidens ends, Theo is arrested???

-> But the thing I really did hate the most is how Michaelides treats his female murderers (who are both also victims themselves) as mere means to deploy a “twist”; there’s no moment spared to encourage our sympathy for Zoe, who was groomed and manipulated by the only trusted father figure in her life, and even after spending a decent amount of time getting to know Alicia via her ridiculous diary, where it’s so apparent that she’s been demeaned, objectified, manipulated, gaslit, and/or used by EVERY man in her life, she’s sent packing to spend the rest of her days in a coma… HOW much more satisfying would it have been for her to succeed in exposing Theo and reclaiming her voice? But no, she basically rolls over when he comes to finish her off (SPEAKING OF — ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THERE ARE NO SECURITY CAMERAS IN THIS INSTITUTE FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE????), writes one last diary entry, and drifts off forever. And then a couple pages of nothing later, the story is over. GOODNIGHT, ALICIA!

Both books kept me rolling throughout (by which I mean eye-rolling but also rotfl). Maybe I will check out his next effort — I’m morbidly curious what he’ll turn out. It does leave me wondering whether I should give up on thriller novels entirely, though. Are many of the weaknesses of these novels just characteristic of the genre? Maybe I'm just holding these books to unfair standards? I'm mostly only familiar with thriller films — many of which I think are amazing — but maybe you can get away with more in a film than you can in a novel.

...I really only intended to write a handful of bullet points, but more and more kept coming to mind as I wrote, to the point where subheadings became necessary. Whoopsie.

#the maidens #the silent patient #book review #alex michaelides #thrillers #books

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 11: Date Night

…in which Ezi’s first date gets interfered.

Word count: 2.5k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: sorry this chapter is so short. I was emotionally unstable when I wrote this last week :D I'll try to write more for the next one.

Also, please follow my writing account on Instagram: @allie.writes :) Don't forget to leave comments on this chapter!

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“Hey, do you remember Dolores?” Dawson asked.

“How could I forget?” Ezili murmured, eyeing her sister up and down.

Of course Ezi remembered Dolores. She couldn’t if she tried. Whenever she looked at Koa, all she saw was what she could never be, what her mother wished that she was, and it only made her despise herself. When she’d first arrived here, she had felt so out of place, but at the same time, free. She still revisited her old life in her sleep, which made her wake up screaming during the night. And despite all the struggles she’d gone through, she felt appreciated. Harry wasn’t anywhere near great, but he wasn’t bad. He looked out for her even though she wasn’t his kind. And she knew if her mother knew she felt this way about a human, she would not be standing here.

But why was she thinking about Harry? He wasn’t here. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked around as the vibrant atmosphere of the night market drowned out her thoughts. Her sister came forward and pulled her into a hug. She could feel Koa’s claws leaving marks on her shoulders, but she knew it was just her imagination.

Koa withdrew with a smile and lifted those perfect human hands with short blunt nails and twisted her hair into a bun. She looked so human, so natural. Ezili wondered how Koa it, but then she caught a glimpse of the trident hanging on a chain around her neck. She’d been using magic.

Immediately, Ezili grabbed Dawson’s hand and pulled him to her side. Koa tilted her head, looking quite confused, which Ezili knew was all an act. Meanwhile, Dawson was blushing. He cleared his throat. “So...Dolores is also here for the book fair. Mind if she joins us?”

“Not at all,” Ezili said with a tight smile.

“Great!” Koa said, hands clasped against her chest.

Ezili tried to figure out what her sister’s intentions were. Was she here to kill Ezili? Was she here to kill Harry? What if she thought Dawson was Ezili’s new target and was here to kill him? Also, how many humans had she killed for her to be here, dressed, act, and talk like a real human girl?

Ezili walked beside Koa as the girl went on and on about how she’d just moved to London, and all the places she’d visited and enjoyed. She must have got all this information from the magic of the trident. She couldn’t be more human than Ezili, who’d had to learn everything by herself.

“Harry?”

Ezili’s heart gave a lurch when she spotted his face in the crowd. It started with a feeling of comfort, like finding a warm bed in the middle of the raging ocean. But then a tidal wave of anxiety crashed down upon her, and she momentarily forgot about Dawson and her sister. She rushed toward him, pushing past a group of tourists and teenagers who cursed at her.

“There you are!” Harry said, spreading his arms. “My favourite fish.”

“What are you doing here?” she hissed and tugged hard at his sleeve. “Why did you follow me here?”

“I didn’t follow you here.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not,” Harry sighed and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he looked around. “Where’s Dawson anyway? Why are you standing here all by yourself?”

Ezili had no time for his questions. “Harry, go home.”

“I’m here to buy books!”

“Oh, yeah? What books?”

“This one,” he said, grabbing a random book from a display shelf they were in front of.

“The Sex Life of Pets?”

“Oh.” His smile dropped as he read the title. “I mean, it does look kinda interesting.”

“Harry, go home. I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are. Dawson left you here all by yourself.”

“He’s taking care of something,” Ezili said anxiously as she put her arms around herself and rubbed. The air was getting cold. She hadn’t had to feel the cold when she’d been a siren. She hated how weak humans were. A slight change of the weather could get them all messed up.

She was about to tell Harry to go home right now because her sister was here, and Dawson might be in danger. Ezili’s job here was to kill one of these men, not save them every single time. But to her surprise, Harry took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. “Come home with me,” he said, gently. “If you stay here, you might get lost among all these tourists.”

“No, you go home,” she said, pushing his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “It’s not safe here for you.”

“How?” he chuckled. “I know London like the back of my hand.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Ezili, you’re acting stran—” Harry was about to finish his sentence when his smile vanished. He pointed over Ezili’s shoulder. “Is that Dawson talking to your sister?”

Ezili whirled around, relieved to find Dawson still alive, but the grin her sister gave her while Dawson was talking to a seller made her uneasy.

“Harry, go home,” she snapped at Harry, shoved him hard so he stumbled back. If something happened, she could only save one of them, and she knew for a fact it would be Harry.

“I’m not going home and leaving you here—”

“And I won’t save you if my sister does something again. I’ll save Dawson, and you don’t want to die, do you?”

At first, she thought those words were all harmless, until she saw the way Harry’s smile dropped, and his shoulders slumped. He said nothing, only nodded. Koa and Dawson were heading towards them now. It was too risky to have Harry here.

“Go!” she shouted and pushed him hard. He didn’t joke about it or react, just held her gaze for a moment and walked away.

“Is that Harry? Harry!”

“He’s leaving, Dawson,” Ezili said and turned to her sister. “Could you come with me to the restroom?”

“Yeah, sure!” Koa happily said, then waved at a puzzled Dawson as she got dragged away.

“What are you trying to do?” Ezili asked in Séren when they were far enough from Dawson, but not too far; she still needed to keep an eye on him just in case.

“Nothing,” Koa answered in their mother tongue. “Although Pretty Boy over there looks quite delicious.”

“Stop it!” Ezili snapped. “You’ve been breaking so many rules around here. You’re not allowed to use the magic of the trident for personal gains.”

“Mother entrusted me with it,” Koa mused.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to know what you’d used it for,” Ezili said, disgusted.

Koa’s dark pink lips curled to the side. “You’re jealous,” she said, leaning back, arms crossed.

Ezili had no time for this. “Please go home,” she told her sister. “I have things under control here. I’ll return in a year with the heart.”

“But you don’t have a whole year,” Koa said. “One year could be a lifetime for these creatures. Humans are fickle. They can stay married for twenty years and still can’t love each other.”

Ezili scoffed, eyebrows raised. “Does the trident tell you that?”

“No, Dolores did,” Koa said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger innocently as if she weren’t talking about someone she’d murdered for no reason. “She hated her husband,” she went on. “I heard her talking on the phone with someone about how she had never loved him, and they had two grown children together. Can you believe it? These creatures made up the thing called ‘marriage’ - a lifetime commitment, which they could not keep up with themselves. And as much as your pretty head wants to see the good in these filthy creatures. They are far from good. Not only do they harm other living things, they also harm their own kind. Physically and emotionally.” Koa put her hand on Ezili’s shoulder and squeezed. “That boy you’re so attached to is no different, Ezili. He will never love you.”

Ezili bit her lip and brushed her sister’s hand off of her. “Don’t tell me about humans when I’ve been here for longer than you do.”

“And yet,” Koa said, “you’re still here.”

Ezili wanted to tell Koa she was wrong for doubting Ezili, but Koa wasn’t wrong. Recently, Ezili had been doubting herself, too. She had even considered switching her target from Harry to Dawson, but she could not feel the same connection she’d had with Harry.

“I have an offer for you, Ezili,” Koa’s voice dragged her out of her own thoughts. She blinked at her sister. “Before your birthday, which was supposed to be your coronation day, you may come back to the Queendom. You’ll tell Mother that you cannot accomplish the mission and ask her to make me Queen of the Seven Seas. Then we’ll have a new Queen as planned. Our evil aunt can’t plot against the throne. And when I’m Queen, I’ll make sure you won’t be banished. You’ll get to keep your title as a princess and stay in the castle.”

Ezili hated that she wasted a second to actually consider the offer. “No. I won’t do it,” she spat, stepping back. “If I accepted this offer, no one and nothing in the ocean world would take me seriously. I would become an outcast anyway.”

Koa rolled her eyes and laughed heartily. “At least you’ll still be protected by the army and you’ll have a family. Or would you rather join the mermaids collecting gold all day for your sad little collection? Also, I’m sure the white sharks would love an abandoned siren.”

“I’m going to be Queen,” Ezili said through clenched teeth. “I’m bringing Mother the heart no matter what. Now you go home and tell her just that. And be careful with my trident that you wore around your little breakable neck.”

Koa opened her mouth to speak, but Ezili didn’t give her a chance. She put up a hand and shouted, “Dawson, let’s go! Dolores is just about to leave.”

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Ezili didn’t know what time she arrived home. She tried not to think about her sister’s words, which had clearly been for the purpose of making her doubt herself. She still hoped Dawson had had a great time tonight. They’d bought some books after she’d got rid of Koa, then stopped at a restaurant on the way back to Harry’s mansion. She’d apologised when he’d dropped her off for not being quite herself tonight, and she hated how he’d cheerfully said, “It was nothing. No worries.” Why did humans lie about how they felt all the time? If something bothered you or made you uncomfortable, why not just say it? Why did they feel the need to complicate things? It was hard enough for her to understand human emotions, and they expected her to be able to guess?

“Hey,” Harry said when their eyes met and she froze in the doorway. She’d expected him to be sleeping right now. “You look clean. Guess your sister didn’t kill Dawson?”

Ezili narrowed her eyes at him and kicked off her shoes. “No. Nothing bad happened.”

“Oh, man. I was hoping he was dead.”

“Shut up,” she said. “Also, I don’t think my sister will ever bother us again.” That, she wasn’t sure. She just wanted to be reassured even if it was by her own words.

Harry got up, hands slipped into his pockets. “Sooo...how was your date?”

Ezili pretended she hadn’t heard that question. “Why are you still up?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Had too much coffee earlier.” Then repeated, “How was your date?”

“It was fine,” Ezili said. "Why did you show up?"

"I was just making sure you wouldn't cause any trouble? Your name is tied to mine now, in case you've forgotten."

"How can I? You literally remind me of our fake relationship every two seconds."

“Why are you so pissed off?”

“I’m not.”

“You clearly are,” he persisted.

She let out a sigh, about to just go upstairs and ignore him for the rest of the night, but this one question kept tugging at her. So she had to ask.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry looked confused for a second. “No. Never. I think I’ve told you about what happened with my exes.”

“But did you love them at one point?”

“Well, I thought I loved them,” he said. “But looking back now, I don’t think I know what love is. It’s just...a lot of times, I want to be alone. Just me and Chilli. If someone enters my life and stays around for too long, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“But I’m also living here. We see each other all the time.”

“It’s not like I have a choice to kick you out,” he said, then instantly looked regretful.

Ezili padded across the room and stopped in front of him. “Why would anybody want to be alone?” She knew she didn’t. She was doing all this just to be accepted by her kind, but he, who had everything from fame and wealth to a supportive family, wanted to be left alone?

“You’re not the first girl to ask me that,” he said with a grin. “I think it has a lot to do with how I was brought up. I feel like everyone has these certain expectations for me, and when I don’t meet those expectations, I disappoint them. I just want to be by myself so I can just be me. I don’t want to adjust myself to the presence of others.”

Ezili nodded then moved a bit closer.

“What are you--”

She surprised him by placing her palm on the left side of his chest. Her skin tingled with the sensation of his little unsteady heartbeats when she came near. “But there’s nothing here,” she mumbled as if it would make sense to him. “You were telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?” Harry let out a nervous laugh and reached for her hand, which she withdrew before he could touch.

“Nothing.”

Harry’s smile faded. “Did Dawson say anything about me?”

“No. We hardly talked about you.”

“What about your sister? Why is she here?” he kept asking when she brushed past him and headed for the stairs. “Does your mother want you back? Ezi, what happened tonight?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m just tired. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Ezi,” he said, his voice soft and pleading as if he could love her for a moment. But how could he? How could a man, who had lived his whole life without falling in love and prided himself on his loneliness, ever fall in love with a siren? He’d said he’d wanted to kiss her again, but there he’d stood in front of her and claimed her presence in this house made him uncomfortable. Then when her hand had been on his heart, she had felt nothing.

So had he lied about it? Humans lied about how they felt all the time. If they could lie about wanting to spend the rest of their life with one person, they could lie about wanting to kiss a siren.

Maybe, just maybe, Ezili should consider her sister’s offer.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #harry styles series

[jflemings]

you don’t need to prove yourself to me | spencer reid

summary: the BAU gets called into a local homicide case where all the victims have been women. You end up questioning the unsub and he hits a bit too close to home. 

warnings: murder, aggressive tones & language, mentions of violence against women, substance abuse & domestic violence is mentioned, normal cm type stuff ends in fluff tho!

note from the author: This fic might get pretty heavy for some people reading, nothing too major. substance abuse is mentioned as is minor domestic violence but does not go into detail it is just for the sake of the plot. do not read if you feel like you are not comfortable with these topics!

word count: 5k - I am so sorry but this fic wouldn't make sense to make into two parts whoops 

“The unsub in question is presumably a white male in his mid to late fifties with some sort of prior anger issues. He may seem relatively approachable at first, often may be charming to people he first meets but has an underlying sense of self rightousness and hatred towards women.” Hotch says before looking at you to continue.

Your attention shifts from your superior to the crowd of police officers in front of you “Chances are he’s a family man, a local. someone who knows his way around the area and can hide in plain sight. Depreciating jokes about women and possibly even a spouse could be in his humor, most likely he holds old sexist values. Grew up in an abusive household or with no mother which is where his lack of respect for women stems from.” you conclude your statement with a scan around the room, getting a feel for the reactions in the crowd before JJ starts to pull you away to a back office where the team has been set up temporarily this morning. 

The door closes with a soft click as JJ leans up against it, her hand still on the handle. The sound of shifting papers fills the suddenly very obvious quiet room while you stand at the desk organising the case file and any evidence left on the desk, your long time friend stares at you and you can feel her eyes burning into the left side of your face before breaking her silence. 

“Y/N what’s wrong?” the calm tone floats through the room as you stop shuffling papers and look up to the photos of the women on the evidence board before making eye contact with your most respected colleague 

“I grew up with these women. One of them was my tutor in math when I was a sophomore, JJ!. To you guys these women are strangers but to me they’re friendly faces whom I’ve been with since I was a toddler and it frustrates me so much to not know if I’m waiting around for a dead body of an old classmate” A breath releases itself from your lungs and a weight has started to lift off of your shoulders and be replaced with a steady hand.

“This sick son of a bitch isn’t going to be doing this for much longer. We’re gonna catch him, y/n and I promise you can be the one to put his head on a stick” Her reassuring gaze and firm but kind smile is enough to put you at ease before Reid comes busting through the door.

His eyes are locked on you 

“There’s been an attack” is all he can get out before your blood runs cold and you’re out of the station making a beeline for Hotch in the parking lot. 

His back is turned to you but it doesn’t take a genius to know that right now he’s determined to find the unseen before it’s too late. 

“Hotch! what’s going on!?” His name desperatly leaves your mouth before you, JJ and Spencer are stood in front of him 

“a young woman was attacked two blocks away from her home, she fought back and is okay but may need to be taken to hosptial. She specifically asked for you” 

You can feel the colour rapidly drain from your face, your great rate sky rocketing “Where was she attacked?”

“Corner of Anderson and Meyers street” 

..

The street is lined with patrol cars and officers when you pull up with spencer, your hands on the wheel are shaking and white and you can’t control the over whelming feeling in the core of your stomach.

Your blank stare and lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend of a year. He reaches over to put the car in park and then gently takes your hands off the steering wheel and placing them in his own . 

“Y/N look at me. She’s okay. She’s alive and she wants to speak with you. She fought and he couldn’t grab her.” Spencer’s slow tone is attention grabbing enough for your eyes to pry themselves away from the scene in front of you. 

His eyes soften when he sees the tears brimming in your own and feels the ever so slight shake coming from your palms. Spencer had seen you cry before, yes, but not like this; the BAU had taken plenty of cases like this one but it was obvious to him now that you had taken this far more personal than he had initially though. His left hand removed itself from yours and brushed some fly away hairs behind your ear before gently resting it on the side of your face.

“if you want, we can sit here for a minute I’ll call Hotch now and tell him to take the lead and we’ll sit and yo-” He begins to ramble and you move his hand from your face so you can ahem his full attention.

“Spence, it’s okay. You and I can go over and speak with the victim; I’m going to be fine” you spoke softly with a smile on your face de before the both of you unbuckled yourselves and headed towards the ambulance parked in front of the corner. 

The young woman is sitting in he back of the ambulance whilst holding an ice pack to the right side of her arm. Emily stands in front of her trying to get any information she can when you approach so you can take over. 

“Thanks, Em. Reid and I can take over” you say before she puts a hand on or arm and walks away so your undivided attention is now on the woman in the back of the ambulance. 

“Hello my name is Dr Reid and this is my partner Agent L/N, you- uh insisted you speak with us” Spencer introduces whilst flicking his gaze from you to the victim.

It’s like a tidal wave of realisation comes over you once you finally get a good look at the person in front of you “Oh my god- are you okay?” both hands grip the woman’s shoulders is utter disbelief and a look of concern is now occupying your features. “Ellie, what did he try to do to you?” the question comes out rushed while your eyes scan her body.

“Y/N! oh my god you’ll never believe it! I was just doing my normal track and when I got to this corner he tried to grab me. He held a knife to my stomach and threatened to stabbed me if I screamed but I couldn't take any chances so I hit him in his ribs and then heeled his toes as hard as I could but he still managed to get me on my arm and hip” She said exhausted, like she had just re lived it right in front of you. Stress crossed her features and her hand gripped her forehead.

You turn to your dumbfounded boyfriend standing beside you and you remembered that he had yet to properly meet your high school best friend.

“Ellie this is Spencer” you gestured to him and Ellie looked like she had finally found a thought that was floating in her brain “My boyfriend spencer” you clarified.

Instinctively, she stuck her hand out for him to shake “Oh of course! You’re the cute doctor” she smiled graciously when he did take her hand while Spence side eyed you.

“Sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances” He gave her a tight lipped smile before taking out his notebook “We were just wondering if we could ask a few questions? We’re not too sure we can wait ‘till after you’ve been checked out of hospital” spencer said.

You agreed with him “Did you happen to get a look at his face? or possibly any identifying characteristics” you quizzed while she racked her brain for some answers. 

She sighed before answering “His hair was clean cut, like he had just gotten it done and his eyes were kind of deep set- like he hadn’t had a good nights sleep in at least a couple of months” she hesitated before looking at Reid “He wasn’t as tall as Spencer but he still had a bit of height on him, I think came up just past his shoulder” She stopped again and mindlessly scanned the crowd of uniformed officers before she set her sights back onto you. “The shirt Y/N! underneath his hoodie he wore a grey collard shirt that looked exactly like the police uniform”

 Spencer’s head whipped around to the crowd of officers, either trying to find your superior or trying to find the suspected unsub. You wracked your brain, thoughts flying in and out of your head a million miles a minute. Nerves once again invaded your stomach and you started to rock from foot to foot trying to come up with someone- anyone- who possibly fit this profile and then it happened.

A light bulb moment. A realisation. A solution to all your problems went off in your brain. 

You grabbed the thing closest to you which was coincidentally spencer’s right forearm “Tell Hotch we need everyone back at the station as well as photos taken of all uniform officers from the past fifteen years, I need to get onto Garcia asap I think I know who our unsub is” Your tone was firm and merely unfamiliar to Spencer, you had never spoken to him like that before so he knew you meant business.

You had taken your phone out of your back pocket and turned in the direction of the car, starting to rush away from the ambulance before spencer caught up with you and caught your arm in his hand 

“Where are you going?” Once said out loud he knew it was a stupid question and judging by the flat look on your face you did too. he let out a defeated sigh “No, I know exactly where you’re going but I mean what are you doing going back without the team?” 

His eyes scanned your face and he dropped his head so the two of you were on the same level “If the unsub is a uniformed officer I’m not letting you go back to the station without the team. We don’t know if he’s out here with us right now or back a the station waiting” His tone was hushed and firm like he wanted to make sure neither of you could be heard but also to ensure you knew that he meant what he was saying. 

“Spen-” 

“No Y/N” He now stood at his full stature which you were now coming to realise could be quite intimidating “Do not argue with me about this. This guy, animal, absolute son of a bitch targets women, seemingly people he knows. You’re a local and started out as a uniformed officer in this precinct so if you genuinely think that there is even a slither of a chance that I’m going to let you walk back into that station you are very much mistaken” He was confident as assertive when he spoke to you and when he finished his chest started to rise and fall with frustrated breaths.

He had never spoken to you like that or told you what you could and couldn’t do, especially when it came to a case. Spencer adored you- practically worshiped the very ground you walked on- because he had the up most faith in you and respect for you. He was very confident in the fact that you could take care of yourself with or without a gun strapped to your belt.

You visibly deflated and let out a deep sigh neither of you were aware you were holding in. Spencer once again got down to your eye level

 “Okay Spence, okay” you reassured him. 

You caught sight of Morgan over Spencer’s shoulder and called to him 

“Get the team back to the precinct and Garcia on the phone Derek!” your voice caught the attention of Gideon and JJ who was giving you a nod when you turn back to spencer and motion to get in the car.

While stopped at traffic lights Spencer dialled Garcia’s number and put it on speaker phone 

“You have reached the resident genius what can I do for you my sweet?” Penelope’s voice sang through the phone and spencer made a face at the use of ‘resident genius’ 

“Pen I need you to pull up the most recent photos taken of the uniformed officers at this precinct and look for a white man, mid to late fifties with a clean cut haircut, deep set eyes and he’ll have scars that look like fingernail scratches at the base of his neck” you could feel spencer’s curious mind get the better of him when you included that last detail but you were determined not tot make your eyes off the road.

“Bingo baby! Nick Kane, fifty five years old standing at five foot nine with, exactly like you said, three long fingernail-like scars at the base of his neck” she stated a-matter-a-factly 

A knowing smile came over your features “pull up anything you can find on him, a record, any house calls or complaints, anything that was maybe payed off or covered up” 

“you seem to know a lot about this guy, L/N” Penelope quizzed 

Reid could see the hesitation in your eyes as your grip tightened on the wheel 

“Don’t question it” you said through gritted teeth 

“Oh no I uh- I wasn’t” 

Your eyes slightly widened “No pen, not you” 

Garcia seemed to understand “I’ll have that faxed over for you my love”

A small smile found it’s way upon your lips “thank you P”

Spencer hung up the phone and looked out his window not noticing the glances you threw his way.

By the time you and Spence pulled up to the station you were in full on work mode. You were practically burning holes into the ground with your feet when you marched up to Morgan and Emily with your boyfriend hot on your heels. 

“I need the both of you to get information on Nick Kane’s whereabouts on this afternoon’s patrol. Ask any officers or detectives if they saw him leave the station at what time and if they didn’t ask them when the last time they saw him was” The words tumbled out of your mouth and all your two friends could do was nod 

Emily smiled proudly at you “all over it, Hotch is in there now but I’m not too sure he’s very successful” she nodded her head to the back where the interrogation rooms were. Derek nodded in agreement 

“Garcia also said that the files you asked her to fax over are ready” Morgan read the text off his phone which earned a grateful smile from you before walking off to grab the papers with all three of your co workers following you with their eyes.

Derek turned back around to face spencer who had worry written all over his face “Alright man, what’s going on? we got the bad guy, no one was majorly hurt today which means you can rest easy tonight” 

Spencer came back down to earth at the sound of his long-time friend’s voice. He sighed in defeat “We might have the bad guy, nothing is concrete right now even if he fits the profile, the victim was incredibly lucky that he only got her arm and hip and I can’t rest easy tonight because I know that Y/N is hiding something” Spencer’s hands flailed as he rambled, completely missing the look  Emily gave him.

“Hiding something? Spence what are you talking about? If she was hiding something she’d be hiding it from us, not you. I genuinely don’t think theres anything in the world that you don’t know about her” Emily said trying to calm him even a little bit 

“I thought you two agreed not to profile each other anyway? wasn’t that, like one of the first things you agreed on even when you were friends” Morgan raised an eyebrow 

“This isn’t me being an FBI agent and profiling her, it’s me being her boyfriend and worrying about her. She’s taken his case to heart more than I thought she would. It hits too close to home for her” Spencer concluded while he scuffed his feet at the old carpet floor “And I know that there were women killed that she knew personally but her demeanor changed once she figured out who our potential unsub was and I can’t figure out why...” Spencer begins to trail off when his eyes follow Hotch leaving the interrogation room.

Emily and Morgan follow his eye line and begin to follow after him. 

The first thing the doctor notices is that Hotch is more rigid than normal. His brow is furrowed low and his posture is stiff against the table he’s leaning on with his mouth set in a concrete frown and before he can register what just happened in the interrogation room three of his agents are standing in front of them asking for their co worker. A deep and tired sigh can be heard before the trio of agents is rushing toward the room where he just was, JJ and Gideon already watching the scene unfold from behind the two way glass.

A box with the last name Kane scribbled onto the front is slated down on the desk followed by a very angry agent.

The skin around her cuticles is bleeding from being picked at all day but her face is stern and cold so if she truly was as anxious as she had been through the day you would never know.

The dirty cop is relaxed when Y/N sits down in front of him, he’s leant back in the chair with his hands placed on his thighs casually almost as if he’s with a friend or at home and unknowingly to agent L/N her colleagues are less relaxed from behind the glass.

Morgan is first to point out the obvious.

“He doesn't seem nervous or even on edge about being questioned; shows he’s been in that same position before” he states, not taking his eye off the room

Gideon hesitates before he speaks “That’s because he has been: a few years ago he was brought in for substance possession after a bag was found during a warrant in his home” 

Derek’s face contorts “why did they have a warrant?”

Agent Gideon doesn’t look at Morgan when he replies “illegal firearm possession as well as concerns of domestic violence both charges were dropped” 

Your eyes briefly look up from the manila folder in your hands containing details of each of the murders in you hand to the man sitting in front of you. A picture of a middle aged woman is put directly in front of the officer “I don’t have to ask you if you know who this is because we know you were with her the night before she died” you state 

Nick kisses his teeth “yes, I was with her the night before but I was also with her husband”

“her husband who has a solid alibi unlike you” another photo comes out from the folder “she went missing at five am and was found around seven thirty am in a bush, her husband had left for work at four thirty and clocked in five thirty”

Two more sets of photos are spread in front of the offender and he was only yet to shift in his seat. You kept eyeing the other folders in the box, the older ones but you were waiting for an opportunity one where he would just slip up and you’d have him.

Spencer’s nails may have well been chewed to the bed from pure anxiety of seeing you sit in that room. You’d obviously done interrogations like this before but a feeling that spencer couldn’t shake was sitting at the bottom of your stomach.

With Hotch now back in the room everyone was even more on edge. 

“He hasn’t said anything useful while she’s been in there?” the monotone voice broke through the silence of the onlooking room. 

“Not yet but the more photos she pulls out the more on edge he gets. Not noticeably to anyone but a profiler of course but he seemingly gets a little bit more uneasy every time a new victim is pulled out of the folder” JJ informs. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Reid chewing on his nails while not taking his eyes off of his girlfriend she slaps his hand away and passes a small smile to let him know that you knew what she was doing. 

“Reid what’s the matter with you? She can take care of herself” Gideon calmly asks. The debate going on in the youngest team members head is a hard one because on one hand he doesn’t want to sound like a paranoid boyfriend but on the other he needs some reassurance and maybe his superiors can give that to him.

“Y/N has been on edge since we took this case on and I know it’s because she grew up here and there were people she grew up with murdered but since she got the idea into her head that this was our guy I just feel like she’s hiding something” the ramble stops and eyes fall on Reid but his only concern is what Jason Gideon thinks 

Jason purses his lips “I know she’s hiding something but thought nothing of it because I was under the assumption that you knew what it was” for the first time since entering the room Spencer and Jason make eye contact.

“Your boss asked me about the scars on my neck” 

Reid’s concentration is lost and once again all eyes are back on you

“Did he now?” Your shock is masked by the cold set frown that you’ve had on your face since the minute you stepped into the station.

Kane leans forward over the desk, his hands coming together infant of him “yes he did, was very curious to hear about how I got them which made me think: if Aaron Hotchner isn’t aware of how I got them then certainly your little boyfriend isn’t either” the smirk is set on his face 

Reid’s ears perk up 

“I was under the impression that you had to have a clean record to go into the FBI work that you do”

you lean forward in the slightest “My record is squeaky clean. Yours on the other hand, isn’t” 

Eyebrows raise in surprise.

You pull another folder from the box but this time it’s dated back to seven years ago when domestic violence complaints first started getting called in. First piece of paper is pulled out and you continue to read. 

“Complaints of screaming, excessive cussing from two of your neighbours, January 16th 2004, yet again complaints of screaming, cussing and loud bangs July 25th 2004, sudden screaming and what sounded like a heavy piece of furniture falling March 16th 2005, same thing November 21st and 25th, Glass shattering, shouting police are called but nothing gets further done August 2006″ you pause from your reading and look him dead in the eyes.

Left hand rubs forehead 

Another folder.

“April 2007 a warrant was issued for your home for suspected possession of substances, charges dropped. Any further domestic violence complaints or charges were dropped after May that same year until September 2009 when your wife was sent to hospital with critical injuries; the matter was under further investigation until early January of 2010 when you wrote a cheque for $14,000 to get those charges dropped and cleared”

Hand rubs scars, obviously a nervous habit picked up after the incident 

The man shifts in his seat again “Don’t think I’ve forgotten because I haven’t” the sentence grinds it’s way through his teeth 

You merely relax your posture and speak calmly “Not my record, not my problem” a small smirk sits comfortably on your face. “We know what you did to these women, Nick. This case has your name written all over it.” 

From the opposite side of the glass spencer wracks his brain to put all the pieces together “not my record, not my problem” he mumbles to no one in particular. The genius looks back on old conversations only to realise one topic that had never really come up in conversation between the two of you.

“The mother” he says out loud. Confused faces cast their attention to the doctor.

Spencer hesitates “When she talks about the record, she’s talking about her mother” 

Emily raises an eyebrow “How’d you figure that?”

Gideon intercepts before his agent can even get a word in “You ever seen a man make scratches like that?” 

“Know what I did? My family fell apart, I have no one” His hands slam on the table sitting between the both of you “I bet you don’t even know what you’re talking ab-”

This time it’s your turn to slam the desk 

“I know damn well about the four counts of aggravated assault against an officer, the drug possession, the attempted fraud! I know every last fucking bit of it! I know you try to pull my brother in here to charge him with whatever you can! the number of vandalism charges and assault charges don’t even scratch the surface!” anger surges through you and suddenly Spencer has it all figured out.

“So what makes you so clean huh? Why does assault cover your immediate families records but not your own huh?!” He spits at you 

You’ve had enough

Quick to stand, the chair you were sitting on suddenly slides back behind you, hands are planted firmly on the top of the table and now you’re standing right over him

JJ jumps back in fright straight into Derek who takes no time to grab her and steady her. Emily and Gideon are speechless, not once has anyone seen you react to something like that. Hotch places a firm hand on Spender’s shoulder which ultimately goes unnoticed. He gets it now. 

Colour drains from his face 

“I’m better at controlling my temper but I’ll still hit you twice as hard” the words flow out of your mouth so calmly anyone standing outside the door might think you were talking to a frightened child.

Eyes search for any sign of remorse and find none 

Garcia calls Derek’s phone to let him and the team know that while Ellie had escaped, Nick got sloppy and left something behind. 

Gideon’s voice filters through your earpiece “DNA was found on Ellie”

You can’t help but smile

“Your DNA has just been found on your most recent victim Nick, you’ve got nothing left” 

Got him.

 The box of files is in your hands when you walk out of the interrogation room and practically body slam your boyfriend. Kind eyes look down at you pleadingly “Got given the all clear to go home, do you want to have a chat?” the sentence is just above a whisper but the genuine worried expression etched upon his face is all you need to know.

Spencer starts the engine before driving out of the carpark and onto the road. Thick silence sits in the air and all of a sudden the car feels to small even though you are the only two in it. Mindlessly picking at your fingernails means you didn’t notice Spencer pulling into the McDonalds drive through to order two hot fudge sundaes with extra topping - your tradition after a particularly difficult case. He wordlessly hands you the tray while he picks the furtherest car park in the parking lot and stops the car. You hand him his ice cream and noticing his chewed nails you grab his hand.

“Spence” 

“Watching you in there today was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do but knowing that you felt like you couldn’t come to me based off of the fact that you thought I-I would be upset or angry or not understanding was something that I don’t know how to deal with” He grabs the ice cream tray off of your lap and places them in the cup holder before unbuckling his seatbelt and turning his full attention to you.

“Y/N you mean the world to me, truly you do, I can’t think of anyone else in this world I would want to spend the rest of my life with so I’m telling you now that I love you unconditionally and I want you to know that even if that didn't happen today and you didn't feel like you would be able to tell me about your family I would happily wait for as long as you needed me to until you felt like you were ready for that and I’m sorry that he felt the need to say it in front of myself and our team.

His hands are cold against your flushed face and you flutter your eyes closed momentarily before looking hime in the eye. 

“I didn't want this to affect my work life or the opinions of our team or your opinion of me I was- well I- I hid it because I want to prove to people that I can come from a household like that and still be a good person. a good agent” your confession made his eyes glass over and his smile soften.

“You have proved yourself time and time again to not only me but to the team. You handled it so well today even after what he chose to say to you. Y/N I am so unbelievably proud of you and the person you are, nothing is going to change that” His thumb stroked your cheek before he giggled to himself 

“Plus telling him that you could hit him twice as hard was pretty hot I’m not gonna- hey! no! I’m being serious” 

The sound of your laughs filled the car and the once heavy feeling was now light and airy when he brought your lips to his.

“Spence, these ice creams are gonna melt and I want to eat them” 

#long reads #spencer x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #doctor reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #pegswrites

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

You’re my sunshine...

For the talented @hiraethmaximoff​ ​​🌷

Hope you’ll like it!

Escorted by two Dora Miljae and handcuffed, Helmut Zemo arrived in Wakanda. After all, it was a part of the deal made between Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson: in exchange for the help from Wakanda, they must hand the man responsible for King Tchaka's death to them.

Following him, Sam and Bucky watched their unusual ally walking to his fate. They decided to come with the Wakandian royal guards to keep an eye on Zemo. But also for paying a visit to their Avenger colleague, King T'Challa, aka Black Panther.

The group arrived at the royal palace and met King T'Challa, Queen Mother Ramonda, and Princess Shuri.

The monarch got up from his throne and came to greet his friends:

"Welcome to Wakanda, my dear friends. It's been a long time!"

"Indeed, T'Challa. I would rather pay you a visit in other circumstances, but here we are!" replied Bucky.

"I agree. But, as we promised to your Dora Milaje, we bring Baron Helmut Zemo to you. But I suppose you do not need presentations..." said Sam.

"I don't think so, indeed," replied Queen Ramonda.

As for Shuri, she glared at Zemo with anger. She never forgave him for plotting this explosion that claimed the life of her beloved father.

T'Challa went near the prisoner and faced him with dignity:

"So, we meet again, Zemo."

"The pleasure is reciprocal, Your Majesty." replied the Sokovian with a sly grin.

Shaking his head with displeasure, T'Challa ordered his guards to take their prisoner away.

Once Zemo away, Shuri turned to Bucky and Sam before saying:

"I hope that it would help us to find some peace. It felt so long before you finally catch this man."

She paused before muttering:

"Even if it would not bring my father back."

"I am sorry for your loss..." politely replied Sam.

"However, I have heard from Okoye that he suffered a loss too. Is that right?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty. During the events in Sokovia, when the Avengers fought against Ultron, he lost his wife and his son. Since this tragedy, Zemo held the Avengers responsible for their deaths. And well, you know the story." sighed Bucky.

"Unfortunately, yes. However, the S.H.I.E.L.D visited us two years ago."

"REALLY?"

T'Challa nodded.

"Yes, and Director Fury entrusted us with a special guest. And when I said a special guest, I weigh my words!" 

"Who is it?" asked Sam.

"Follow me, and you will see!" explained the king.

Puzzled, the Winter Soldier and the Falcon followed T'Challa through the corridors of the royal palace until they arrived in front of a large door.

The Wakanda ruler knocked at the door, and a servant opened:

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Is (Y/N) here?"

"Indeed, King T'Challa. The young (Y/N) is currently reading a book in his private library, sir."

"I would like to see him."

The servant nodded, then opened the door before leading the group to the library. They saw a young boy, sitting on an armchair, who read a novel.

The servant politely announced:

"Young Mister (Y/N), His Majesty King T'Challa would like to discuss with you."

The young boy closed his book and got up to greet his visitors:

"Hello, T'Challa. Good afternoon, Queen Ramonda. Hi, Shuri"

"Good afternoon, my boy. Sorry to interrupt your reading!" gently said the Queen Mother of Wakanda.

The brown-haired boy looked at the newcomers with puzzlement.

"Is there something wrong?"

They all looked at each other before Shuri explained:

"(Y/N), I think you should sit down. We need to talk..."

Meanwhile, in his cell, Helmut Zemo evaluated his situation. Honestly, his condition was not worse as he expected: despite being King T'Chaka's indirect murderer, he was in a comfortable cell. 

He closed his eyes as he remembered his last confrontation with Bucky. The Sokovian wondered why Barnes did not shoot him in the face. One bullet in his skull, and he would have been free. 

He would have been reunited with them again. 

A tear fell on his cheek as he remembered his wife, Inge. He often wondered how such a beautiful and smart woman like her could end up being his wife. Helmut wished they had more time together to tell her how much he loved her.

And she gave him the most beautiful present he could ever dream of: his son (Y/N).

Zemo kept his eyes tightly closed as he reminisced the day he held his child for the first time. He was so scared that he would not be a good father. But, at the same time, he felt a wave of joy and love went through him, as he made himself a promise to always be there for his son.

His little boy was the most precious thing he could ever have in his life. (Y/N) was so lovely, cute, and clever. He always has a smile on his face, like a ray of sun in a grey sky.

His heart hurt as Helmut reminded this dreadful day after the destruction of Sokovia. He looked around the ruins, screaming the names of his beloved ones at the top of his lungs. 

Then, he spotted the dead body of his father, who laid on the floor, a large bleeding wound on his forehead. He felt a pang of fear in his chest, and what he feared the most happened. 

Zemo discovered his wife and his son under the ruins of a wall. He saw himself falling on his knees, wailing of despair as he held their bodies against him.

It was the beginning of his downward spiral against the Avengers, those who caused all this disaster... 

"You're okay?"

Zemo woke up from his thoughts and noticed the presence of Bucky, leaning against the doorframe. 

He scoffed:

"I expected worse. But I won't complain."

"Sure, you could have a harsh treatment."

The two men stayed silent until Helmut sighed:

"You should have killed me."

"I beg your pardon?"

Barnes saw a wave of anger and sadness in Zemo's eyes:

"You should have pulled the trigger once and for all."

"I made a deal, and I always keep my promise."

Helmut muttered:

"Sure you are... unlike me."

"What are you talking about?"

Zemo got up and walked to the glass that separated him from his freedom, facing Bucky.

"I promised my son that he would be safe, and I will be with him. I failed to keep it, thanks to your friends!"

"Hey, blame Ultron for it!"

"And who created Ultron?"

Bucky kept his mouth shut as he admitted Zemo was right: if only Stark did not create this homicidal android... 

"Oh, whatever! It would not bring them back!"

Bucky turned around and replied while leaving them:

"You know, life always has a surprise in store for us."

Helmut did not know what to think about Barnes's sentence: it was too obscure.

Anyway, he would not get out of here until King T'Challa said so. Leaning on the wall, Zemo closed his eyes and hummed a song he used to sing to (Y/N) when he needed some comfort:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

"Dad?"

Helmut snapped his eyes open as he heard this familiar voice calling him. No, it could not be... It is impossible!

He turned his head and saw a young boy who looked at him through the glass. He might be 12 years old, probably.

But for sure, Zemo could recognize him anywhere.

"(Y/N)!" he cried as he rushed near the glass, putting his palms against it.

He could not believe his eyes: his beloved son was here, alive and in good health!

As for (Y/N), he was happy to see his father again. Even if he would prefer to see him free, not in jail, but after what he did out of revenge, the young boy guessed his dad got his righteous punishment. 

"Hi, Dad." he gently said as he put his hand where his father put his palm. 

Meanwhile, behind a tainted glass, Bucky, Sam, and the royal family of Wakanda watched this moving reunion.

"So, if I understand: when the S.H.I.E.L.D went to Sokovia to certify the damage after the battle against Ultron, they found the Zemo family and realized this boy was barely alive, right?" asked Sam.

"Exactly. Fury took the child with him and gave him the best medical treatment. It took a long time, but he managed to recover. Then, he brought (Y/N) here, as he knew Wakanda would have better medical equipment! At the time, Zemo provoked this disaster in Berlin," explained Shuri.

"And we took care of (Y/N). I could not believe that this sweet boy was the son of the man who killed my husband. But I would not blame him for his father's sins!" added Ramonda.

"We explained to him what his father did and the reason behind his crimes. (Y/N) was saddened but happy to know his father was alive. After all, it is his only family left!"

"Indeed..." muttered Bucky.

At that moment, Helmut and (Y/N) tried to catch up with time.

"I thought I lost you."

"I thought I would never see you again, Dad."

Suddenly, Zemo felt a wage of guilt through his body. How down he went! What his flesh and blood could think of him being in jail?

"I wish you would never see me like this. I can understand that you're ashamed of me..."

"I am not, dad. At least, we are together now."

(Y/N) bit his lip.

"Besides, no matter what happens, I will be waiting for you until you paid for your crimes. Because I trust you, and I love you!"

"I love you too, Mein Kleiner Sonnenschein." (My little sunshine).

Suddenly, the glass between them disappeared. Then, Helmut and (Y/N) heard the voice of Shuri through the speakers:

"What would be a proper father-son reunion without an embrace?"

When he realized what she did, Zemo hugged his son in a fierce embrace, kissing his forehead.

"I promise, son: I will do anything to be the father you deserve."

"You already are."

Finally, Zemo got his sunshine back, and it enlightened his long road to redemption...

Thanks for the reading: I hope you enjoyed!

Don’t hesitate to reblog, like or leaving comments!

I am looking forward for your requests!

See you later and take care!🥰😘😍

#gifts #requests #mcu #baron helmut zemo #t'challa #queen ramonda #shuri #dora milaje #bucky barnes #sam wilson #daniel brühl #daniel dimaggio #sebastian stan #anthony mackie #chadwick boseman #angela bassett #letitia wright

[harryspet]

Hey I'm can you write like where dark Peter parker kidnaps reader. And she is very innocent. And he just uses a vibrator and overstimulated her. It's just really awkward for me because I have never send an ask before but. You don't have to write it of course. Love your writing!

his toy | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x reader, innocent reader, non con, kidnapping, vibrator, overstimulation, light bondage, little editing

A/N: This is pretty much what you asked for but I added some plot stuff. Hope you enjoy it!

In which you witness something Peter doesn’t want you to see.

word count: 1.9k

Your hand clamped over your mouth after the abrupt scream left your lips. The man toppled off off the edge of the building and he screamed bloody murder as he fell to his death. You were just coming up to get fresh air like you always did. You listened to the city as you wrote in your journal but, tonight was different. More than different.

The man who had pushed him was standing right there and he pulled off his black masks as he heard you scream. Your heart raced and tears stung your eyes as you recognized him. You knew him as Spiderman but, judging by his all-black appearance, he wasn’t in the mood for protecting the neighborhood.

Peter looked you over from where you were standing by the roof door and his jaw clenched, “I-I’m s-sorry,” You turned around to grab the door handle but, before you could even reach for it, web spread around the handle. You were trapped.

You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as you heard him speak, “You must have some very very bad luck,” Peter watched your shaky figure try not to panic. You looked so … breakable, “You know that guy?”

You instantly shook your head, “N-No, s-sir,” That made Peter a little tense? Sir? He smiled evilly. You didn’t seem that far from his own age, “I-I’m sure h-he was a … bad man.”

Peter took a few steps closer to you, only about five feet away from you now, “Smart girl,” Peter complimented you, “Telling me what I’d like to hear. What if I told you he wasn’t the bad guy? Would that scare you?”

“But y-you’re spiderman-”

Peter clenched his fist, “There’s only so much work can do without violence,” He took a few more steps and you moved away from the door, knowing you were getting out that way, “Fear usually works but some people just end up being useless to you. Like that guy.”

Peter spoke casually as he stalked towards you and you stumbled away from him, “Some people become liabilities like you,” You had seen him murder an innocent man, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go. As you stepped back and you felt the brick wall that lined the edge of the roof, you knew he was going to do the same thing to you.

“I-I’m not!” You rushed, “I won’t tell anyone, sir. I-I promise! Please, I-I have a family!”

Peter cocked his head to the side, shaking his head, “Don’t we all?” You felt dizzy like you might pass out as he closed the distance between you. His hand wrapped around your throat and as you useless used your own hands to pull his away, Peter became amused. As he got close enough to really look into your eyes, something in him shifted.

“Please-” Peter’s hands tightened around your throat and soon you found yourself gasping for air. You clawed at the fabric of his suit as your eyes grew even wide. You thought this was it and that the last eyes you’d be looking into were his.

“Relax, the nightmare begins later,” He told you though, your vision blurring as you slipped away to the darkness. As you went limp, Peter knew he was taking a risk by not killing you but there was a light in your eyes, one that was foreign to him now. He wanted to see how long you’d last with him before it went out.

+

The first thing you felt was coldness everywhere. As your eyes blinked open, light flooded your vision. It was harsh and flickering as it illuminated your body. As you started to realize the coldness was due to being naked, Peter walked the rest of the way down the steps, moving towards the bed you were laying on.

You were in some dingy basement, the only light in the room seemed to focus on the metal bed which made the surrounding room seem like a dark abyss.

You sat up, panicked as he made his way closer. Your throat was killing you and your voice was hoarse as you tried to scream, “Don’t do that,” As you scrambled away, you tumbled off of the bed, your bottom touching the cold cement.

You climbed to your feet and began to back away more but something around your neck yanked you back. Your fingers found the cold metal of a chain there. He was keeping you leashed like a dog and naked like a … “Your neck is already bruised, Y/N, I wouldn’t do that,” You guess that he had gone through your things to find that out. You looked at him with a look of shock and fear before you grabbed at the chain. You pulled, finding it attached to the bed frame.

You care little about the stinging around your neck and more about the superhero that was keeping you in his basement, “W-What are you doing?” You spoke hoarsely, tears already trailing down your cheeks. Peter stalked around the bed, coming towards you and as he did, you climbed back onto the bed to get away from him.

He flashed you an amused look. You acted as if he couldn’t snatch you up and have you for dinner if he wanted. He stood before you, dressed only in a pair of jeans, his muscular chest on full display. You watched as he casually slid something out of his back pocket, a small book that you quickly realized was your journal.

“I’ve been doing some light reading,” He teased you, flipping open to one of the pages, “I see Trevor all the time now because he comes into my favorite coffee shop. I wonder if he knows how much I stare at him-”

“Stop it, p-please.”

Was his plan to embarrass you to death? “I wonder if he knows how much I want to be with him. I imagine he’s a good kisser. I’ve never kissed anyone but, if he was my first, I would probably thank the heavens-”

“Stop it! You have to let me go. I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Peter didn’t expect you to shout. Maybe you had a little more fire in you then he previously assumed, “I know you won’t,” Peter tossed the book to the side and it smack that made you flinch. He used that moment to quickly move forward, grabbing your leg so hard and fast that your head collided hard with the mattress. You struggled, kicking your limbs but each hit you made felt like your skin was colliding with metal. You were only hurting yourself in the process and Peter was waiting for you to tire yourself.

He grabbed both your arms, pinning your wrist behind your own back as he pushed your front into his. The chain around your neck clanged as you tried to shake him away. Before you knew it, your faces were inches apart and you were trying your hardest to look away from him. Your breathing was heavy from all the fighting but Peter was calm. Eerily calm.

One hand pinned your wrist while the other trailed up to your face. He brushed a strand of hair back and you tried not to flinch, to not show any more weakness, “Be a good girl for me and you can go back to fantasizing about your little Trevor,” Peter’s thumb held your face, and he traced his thumb along your cheek.

“Y-You’ll let me go?”

“Say you’ll be a good girl for me,” he demanded and you bit down on the bottom of your lip. As he noticed you hesitate, he reached back to grab a section of your hair roughly. It strained the sensitive area around your neck again.

You yelped, “O-Okay, I’ll be good. I’ll be good!”

“Say my name. Say you’ll be good for Peter.”

He could kill you. He could kill you so easily and would anyone you love even know where to find you?

“I-I’ll be good for you, Peter,” You stuttered over the words as they left your mouth and Peter grinned wickedly. His name on your lips was heaven to him but hell to you.

He let go of his tight grip around your hair before he reached into the rickety nightstand beside the bed. Peter pulled you into his lap as you tried to get a good look at the device he was holding. Your legs were on either side of his body, your arms still pulled behind your back, and the chain tight around your neck.

It was a white wand and you thought it looked like a body massager, “What is that?” Peter didn’t answer as it suddenly shifted on, the mushroom top shaking as it vibrated. He pressed the tip against your exposed breasts and a whimper left your lips. He only pulled you tighter to him as you tried to move away.

Peter watched as your nipple grew harder and wondered what other parts of your body were that sensitive. The wand trailed over your breasts, then down your stomach before it danced over your private areas. Peter knew you had never been touched like this and he reveled in the idea that this was your first time.

The vibrator dipped between the folds of your sensitive mound and you jerked, not because of Peter, but because of the foreign sensation. As you tried to move away from it, he only pushed it further into you causing a shocked gasp to leave your lips. Then, Peter knew it had been a good idea to not gag you.

He was going to enjoy those beautiful sounds you made like you were an instrument that he was playing.

“Such a good girl, Y/N,” Peter praised you though it was getting hard to focus on him. The feeling overwhelmed your senses and sent a warm wave of pleasure through your body. Biting down on your lip couldn’t stop your moaning, “What a sensitive little toy.”

It only took a good two minutes before your body began convulsing as the first orgasm whipped through you, “Oh God!” You cried, “Oh-” He interrupted you by smashing his lips against yours, his arm still keeping the vibrating tool against your sensitive bulb.

He had stolen your first kiss and all you could think about was how good it felt. You hated how your body betrayed you.

It was becoming too much but, as you opened your lips to protest, Peter swallowed your cries with his own mouth. He kissed you roughly, his tongue exploring your mouth and tasting the desperation. You were desperate to get away from the overstimulation. His grip only got tighter and you were forced to ride that wave once again.

“C’mon, give me another,” Peter grunted as he bit down on your neck. As you cried out, you felt another huge release, this time you felt wetness pooling around your thighs. You thought you might have peed on yourself, not understanding that you had just ejaculated, but that didn’t stop Peter from keeping the toy pressed there.

“No more, n-no more, Peter!” You begged and Peter pulled away from the hickey he was making on your neck.

He held your face as he looked into your eyes, “Don’t quit now. I know you can give me more, toy.”

And your head tilted back as your mind went blank for a moment and you were on another high.

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