#can we just pretend this happened just now...

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Blue bag,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

It’s the insulin this time. You grab the unopened syringe, rip it out from its packet, insert it to the vial of insulin—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he administers the insulin through your shoulder, a huge and long exhale escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in injecting yourself with insulin, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you’re his. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

thank you for reading! as i live for positive reinforcement, feedback is always appreciated ♡

[maruflix]

  — ★ hell hath no fury...

☆ — like a woman scorned.

featuring: narumi gen x f!reader

synopsis: it was at this moment narumi gen knew... he fucked up.

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, hoshina’s little sister!reader, narumi is an idiot, men who beg and grovel, no beta we die like narumi’s hair in the anime

word count: 1,8k

Heav’n has no Rage,

Narumi Gen knows he fucked up.

He can see it in his subordinates’ eyes, in the way they all ignore his silent plea for them to acknowledge the levity of his earlier statement.

“Without me to watch your back, you’re practically dispensable.”

Gen thought everyone knew he was just kidding.

He rethinks that, because you — the one who never backs down from a playful banter — immediately fall silent.

“I-I’m sure the captain didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I did.”

Of course he didn’t. But in the heat of the moment, he can only blame Kikoru for opening her mouth and forcing him to say words he didn’t mean.

Because what else could he do? Apologize?

There’s a heavy tension around the cafetaria table, and it still hangs in the air even after you gathered your belongings and left with a clatter.

like Love to Hatred turn’d,

“Here.”

You barely spare him a glance, opting instead to take a fresh towel from the rack.

Gen purses his lips, gripping the towel he offered you before bringing his hand down to rest on his sides.

“So, uh, you wanna play that new game tonight?”

You’ve been avoiding him these past few weeks and it’s killing him more than he’d like to admit. To usually have you by his side and suddenly be robbed of your company…

You straighten your chin. Gen feels like he’s going to choke.

He’s still standing in the same spot even after you stand up and leave. Behind him, he can hear you laughing with the other officers.

Practice used to be fun, now it’s like he’s walking on eggshells or the chill in the air will freeze him solid if he’s not careful. The worst part? They pretend like nothing is wrong.

It’s not like anything happened after the incident — life goes on as normal in the Ariake Maritime Base. The same practice, the same missions, the same meetings. No one spoke of the incident. Not even you.

Still, he knows your relationship with him changed, and not in the way he intended. He wants to continue being the person who everybody thought is your boyfriend, but is actually your best friend, but it’s complicated because he kinda has feelings for you. But now you won’t even acknowledge his existence.

Gen knows he has to apologize.

But he doesn’t know how.

Nor Hell a Fury,

“What?! You haven’t apologized?!”

Gen doesn’t understand what the big deal is. Everyone knows that you’re always involved in some sort of bickering with him.

The two of you compete about everything. To him, being able to compete with someone fair and square is rare — it’s proof enough that the two of you are on equal footing. So why is everyone acting like one nonsensical sentence from him discredits all your achievements and prowess?

If he says he’s the Director of the Defense Force, will old man Shinomiya instantly step down from his position and give him the spot?

“… No, I don’t feel the need to.”

Eiji shakes his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gen sighs and looks to the side.

Truthfully, he regrets it already. Why else would he discuss his relationship with Hasegawa Eiji, of all freaking people? You ignore his texts, reject all his calls, pretends like he doesn’t exist, and you even exit the room when he comes in. He’s desperate, that’s why.

Gen admits that he was never good with words. He’s better at showing you how he feels through his actions. Now he can’t even do that, because you don’t let him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gen breathes out a shaky; “What should I do?”

“I have an idea,” Eiji starts, “but I don’t know if you’re brave enough to do it.”

When Gen opens his eyes, there’s a newfound determination in them.

like a Woman scorn’d.

“Sir, please, you can’t just enter like this..!”

Narumi Gen has never let a kaiju stop him, let alone a mere attendant. He storms his way past the flurry of housekeepers, gardeners, and household staff — all of them combined is not nearly enough to stop him.

He halts in front of the wooden steps leading up to the front doors, huffing and catching his breath.

The stately Hoshina Estate looks intimidating with the shiny thatched roofs reflecting the brilliant sun.

The attendants have caught up to him now, their footsteps thudding on the rocks behind him. Hushed whispers of his identity and his purpose of coming reverberates through the field, making his chaotic heart thunder loudly in his chest.

“(Y/N), please come out! I’ve come to see you!”

For a moment, no one dares to step forward.

What is the Narumi Gen doing here? It’s no secret that Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant has always been at odds with the Hoshina Family’s Hoshina Soshiro, but why has he come seeking for their young lady?

They all wait with bated breath. There is no response. What will he do next?

Gen gets down to his knees.

“(Y/N), please..!!”

The attendant from before scrambles to his side, gripping his arm in an effort to drag him out. Gen stubbornly stays rooted to his spot. He’s prepared to do this, however long it takes.

“Sir, please don’t cause any problems!”

“I just need a few seconds, please!” Gen frantically reasons, “(Y/N), I want to apologize, so please come out, damn it!”

A second attendant seizes his other arm, and just as he thought he’s going to fail, the front doors slide open.

Gen looks up to see you staring down at him. Next to you, your brother crosses his arms as his gaze trails down to him in amusement. The two Hoshina siblings, dressed in hakama, katanas resting snugly on both your hips as it gleams in the sunlight.

A shiver runs down Gen’s spine at the coldness of your glare.

The attendants immediately bow in your presence, “Our apologies for the ruckus. This person suddenly broke down the gate and forced his way in, insisting to meet with the Young Lady,” The attendant throws Gen a glare, to which he ignores, “Young Lord Soshiro, should we throw him out?”

“Should we, Lil’ Sis?” Hoshina Soshiro wraps an arm around you protectively, “What’s this clown doing here anyway. Should I get Soichiro?”

“No, no, wait! (Y/N), I made a mistake!” Gen inches his body up but immediately bows back again to retain his kneeling position, his legs now shivering from adrenaline, “I didn’t mean what I said that day! I was wrong, and I.. I’m sorry!”

He’s pretty sure the entire household can hear him screaming, but he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re indispensable to the First Division and you totally don’t need me to watch your back, I was just.. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Gen doesn’t even dare to lift his face up, “I really regret saying those words, I…”

“Look at me when you apologize.”

Your sharp reply makes his head jolt upwards.

He can see an amused smirk creeping on your lips as you finally humor his attempt of trying to get your forgiveness.

“So you stormed my family estate just for this? Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

Gen shakes his head. “I’ve waited long enough to apologize. Am I forgiven?”

You smile. “Well, now. No need to beg.”

Like a cue, the attendants finally let go of his aching arms.

You step to the side, inviting him to enter. “I was just training with my brothers. Wanna join?”

Gen practically beams as he makes his way to you. He trips on the last step, almost falling on his face, and smiles sheepishly when he finally reaches the door. “Pardon the intrusion.”

The two men watches as you walk back inside with a smile on your face.

Soshiro shakes his head. “Yer’ a mess.”

Gen laughs. “For your sister, I always am.”

They make their way inside, walking in a comfortable pace.

“Don’t let Soichiro hear that. Yer’ gonna get a beating.”

“If that means we can be brother-in-laws, sure.”

Soshiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t count on it. Yer’ not even dating.”

Gen hums. Maybe he should ask Eiji how to go about that.

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu, @yueliie (tags not working as usual so i will be tagging in the comments smh)

[luveline]

do you think you could do something with zombie au where reader is on her period? thank you!!

thank you for your request! fem, 1k

You’ve gotten your period three times since the apocalypse began. The first time, you and Steve were just beginning to get along, and he’d proved why you trust him as you do, treating the whole thing with kindness. More recently, he’s your unofficial boyfriend. Like, kissing you and holding you, but foregoing the conversation that would make you an official couple. 

Either he doesn’t want to be official (which is fine, it’s not like he’s going anywhere), or you’re official without words. You’ve assumed the latter because the former makes you nauseous. 

Not that you need much help in that department. Your stomach churns like a tide, bouts of sickness and pain that hit you rampantly as you follow Steve downstairs. 

“Can I take my shoes off?” you ask. 

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my house.” Steve descends the last step and holds his hand behind him for you. Seemingly to help you down a step you don’t need help with. 

You’re asking because taking your shoes off means getting comfy for the night, and he doesn’t want to do that at every house you break into.

You don’t explain yourself. You follow Steve into the living room, hoping he’s going to take your hand again. He nudges you with his hip into a mildly dusty couch. 

You sit. “What, are we gonna watch TV?” you joke. 

“You look sickly.” 

That’s not nice. “I do?” you ask, all teasing gone from your tone. You often wish you were much prettier, and occasionally beg fate to drop a bottle of medical grade body wash into your lap, if just to make Steve see you that way. But Steve’s kissed you with a greasy nose and blood on your chin. You were hoping appearances didn’t matter. 

“You look awful,” he says, his eyebrows stitching together as he heads into the kitchen. “Stay sat down!” 

“Awful?” you ask. 

He doubles back, face peeking around the doorway. “Not like that,” he says hurriedly. “Just, sick. I’m gonna cook you something.” 

“I don’t need to be sat down, I’m fine.” 

He disappears again. “That why you’re glaring at me?” he calls, his voice echoing against tile. 

You don’t have the energy for whatever it is that’s happening. You kick your legs out on the couch and begin kneading the swollen mess that is your stomach, debating on telling him why you’re grumpy. It’s not like he cares. He never finds it gross, but you don’t want him to pity you either. It’s just a period. 

(It really sucks.) 

“Alright, the hot plate is on,” he calls. “What do you want, huh? We got the split pea soup, or the chicken casserole?” He laughs. “The casserole, duh. Ten minutes and it’s yours.” 

Your breath rushes out through your nose. Stomach hurts, head hurts, he’s making you dinner and laughing where you can’t see him. You force yourself to get up, shuffling to the kitchen with a pout already in place. 

“Ten minutes is not right,” you say, announcing your movement so he doesn’t stab you. 

“Is too right. How come you never listen?” 

“Steve, please don’t be mean to me, I’m on my period.” You wince as a pang climbs your back. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Well… I’m glad, sort of. Better that then the flu, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve told you to go back to the couch, and he would’ve brought your food in to you, wrapping a blanket over your legs and leaving you to it. But this is now. Your unwilling protector has gone remarkably soft on you. 

“Is it like last time?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

You drift toward him, pretending it isn’t to be hugged. “It hurts, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It hurts,” he repeats in a murmur as his arm finally curls around your waist. He pulls you into his side.

“You’re pitying me.” 

“You like it,” he jokes, his tone still held in that soft murmuring. 

You close your eyes, driving your nose into his chest. The hot plate gurgles weakly on the stove, using the last of a canister of camping gas, a few days from the end of its life. Your eyelids feel heavy closed, achy not with tears but fatigue, and your head aches with a migraine you know from experience won’t be defeated using tylenol. But Steve hugs you with one arm and leans against you as you press into him. Stuck together. He doesn’t move for ages. 

“I’m glad I don’t get my period,” he says. 

“You act like you do.” 

“Were you not gonna tell me? I guess you don’t have to, but if you’re in pain, I’d like to know.” 

“Don’t need you to feel any more sorry for me.” 

“I don’t. Just like rubbing your back.” 

Your heart skips a beat. That’s as close to a confession of feelings you’ve ever gotten from him. Well, verbally. His sporadic kissing says a lot. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. You have to strain your ears to hear him. “I don’t think there’s much iron in chicken casserole. I wish we… How much iron is there in squirrel?” 

“I don’t wanna eat squirrel.” Again. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Doubtful. You turn completely into his touch and hug him. “Please don’t make me eat squirrel.” 

You sound a teeny tiny bit pitiful, and you earn yourself an even better hug than the first. “I won’t, I won’t, I was just kidding,” he promises, “I just figure you need it. Maybe if we look through the medicine cabinet they’ll have some multivitamins or something.” His hand grabs at your side. It’s not a careful touch, though he’s far from spiteful. “You need painkillers, right? I could crush a Vicodin into your casserole.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Steve’s nose presses into the side of your face. You feel close to him in a way that chokes you up, but you don’t need to talk any more. 

“Half a Vicodin,” he deliberates, “and I’ll rub your back.”

[greenconverses]

As I've mentioned a few times times, one of the actual interesting things Riordan is doing in this new series is mentioning Percy's obvious rage issues and then not actually doing anything with it other than making Percy swallow the anger down so he stays Nice and Controlled at all times.

Which, if we were dealing with pre-Disney+ show deal RR, could be a great character arc over the course of the series where Percy learns to actually deal with his anger and trauma while he's actively being triggered by petty godly bullshit. But Wrath made it pretty clear he's okay with letting Percy eat shit emotionally as long as everyone is one big happy team in the end and we're Therapy Speaking ourselves into the sunset, so I don't think that's happening.

Wrath sets up a conflict between Grover and Percy that's pretty simple: Grover eats a magical thing he's specifically told not eat and causes chaos that puts Percy's quest at risk. Reminder, these stupid quests are so Percy can get into college and Grover knows this. Percy gets angry at Grover; so angry Annabeth can see it and shoos him out of the room so he doesn't explode. And then he just... tries to stop being angry, assumes Grover means well, and carries on pretending it's not Grover's fault while being resentful because it's totally Grover's fucking fault.

Eventually, we get a scene where Grover attempts to make things right by putting himself into danger and Percy freaks out because, duh, he doesn't want his friends to get hurt. Grover then attempts to apologize by admitting he maybe sorta kinda subconsciously wanted to sabotage things. And it's here where we run in to trouble.

Please notice that Percy immediately tries to reassure him that he's not responsible despite Grover acknowledging it. Then we get the good ol' Grover tears and looking like a poor bullied baby before he confesses to sabotaging his best friend's quest because he doesn't want to be left behind. And with that, all of Percy's anger is gone because how can you be mad at your friend for that?

Uh, pretty fucking easy, especially if my idiot satyr friend knows exactly what the consequences of failing the quest is (forget the college letters; Percy is under the assumption that Hecate will unmake him if he fucks up) AND said idiot frequently has gone MONTHS without seeing me because of his job and, in fact, several months from now will be halfway across the country anyway helping Apollo with some different quest bullshit!!!!

I digress.

Suddenly, Percy is the bad guy for being mad at Grover. And this continues with the next part of the conversation.

How hard it's been on him?????

Percy Jackson, you are constantly blowing literal gaskets because of the stress you are under, and you're worried about how hard college applications has been on GROVER???????

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

like

are you kidding me here rick

are you FUCKING kidding me

PERCY needs to APOLOGIZE to GROVER for PRIORITIZING COLLEGE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

And then Grover makes a joke about Percy's shitty gpa because dunking on Percy in an emotional conversation is totally fine because his emotions don't actually matter to any of his friends. He'll get over it! He's Percy, duh. He's not a ticking time bomb of resentment full of grudges whatsoever.

I think we're supposed to see this as Percy maturing and being forgiving, but is he? He doesn't tell Grover he forgives him. Percy's the one apologizing in the end because he's been guilted into feeling bad that Grover is sad/upset and put himself in danger. The conflict doesn't actually get resolved because Percy brushes it aside; it doesn't matter any more because Grover is sad and must be reassured. No one's going to learn anything from this because there have been no consequences. Grover's gonna do some dumb shit again, Percy's gonna get mad at him, Grover will cry and make up a sad sack excuse, and Percy will stop being angry because Grover's his bestie and what else is he supposed to do?

(This could be a good character arc about how Percy's fatal flaw makes him have a really messed up view of friendships and the meaning of loyalty, but again, we will be denied.)

And for the record, just because your friends have compelling reasons for their shitty actions doesn't make them any less shitty. It doesn't mean they shouldn't apologize for their fuck ups or negate the hurt they caused you. Forgiveness needs to be earned, not manipulated out of you through tears and reckless actions.

Grover can get fucked. I hate this fucking character.

[dekusdante]

Things that annoys me in the Jujutsu Kaisen Fandom

Sorry but this is going to be all over the place.

Am I the only one tired of the same trope being used when it comes to Gojo from JJK? In other words the enemies to lovers trope where the oc or reader is basically Utahime with out the name.

Like we all remember the episode where he gave out what type of person he was into which was a nice girl or something along those lines. I that as writers you have to take creative liberties but why are all the readers in these stories are exactly the same.

They either hate Gojo or is super easily annoyed at him. Jerks but its okay cause for some reason he loves them unconditionally. This is so annoying cause there is no push back from Gojo in these stories. Just him taking back the reader or waiting for them to return his feelings when in actuality he shouldn't.

Another thing that annoys me is why is it always the guy that's simping why can't it ever be the woman being madly in love and trying to win him over?

This enemies to lover trope has completely taken over the Reader x Gojo fandom and its so overused. Now I will admit there are some gems out there, but I just don't even bother reading anything that is enemies to lovers anymore. I'm just tired of reading the same thing over and over again with the same copy and paste formula/reader.

Also why is smut so strong on here. Like don't get me wrong those writers are killing it with the plot aspect but man does all the smut kill me. Like I want more plot these are really good and creative ideas but man the smut kills me lol. Still reading the plot but stop at the smut parts which is usually the end so we gucci.

Hmm, another trope I refuse to read in these are arranged marriage were we are supposed to be upset with the guy who is forced to marry someone they don't want too. Why? Well for starters it always start with the reader being mistreated by the guy for some reason and the reader putting up with it until something happens and the guy falls in love with them and has to gain both their trust and love again.

I can get behind this but they always make the guy so unredeemable in these that it would be crazy if she takes him back. [She always does] Another thing is we are supposed to hate the guy because he wants to remain faithful to the person he was with before the arrange marriage. Like why are we bashing a faithful man?

Another trope I hate is when the guy is always in the wrong. A while ago I read a Gojo x reader fic were reader was mad that Gojo couldn't spend a lot of time with her so she broke up. Okay valid even though I am sure this would have been addressed before or earlier in the relationship but okay. What annoyed me with this story is that she then goes on to get in a relationship with Nanami who then calls Gojo an idiot for losing a woman like her.

I could not believe what I read. Like what the hell did Gojo do? At this point Gege posted about Gojo's life and how the man is booked to the max and I couldn't help but think how distasteful it was to first make it appear as if Nanami would do something like that to Gojo and secondly pretend that they don't have more free time compared to him. Like Nanami even understood why Geto did what he did.

Anyway that's all I got for now. I am not here to argue but I would love to hear about what you think on this. A second opinion is always welcomed and if you have a trope you don't like then I would love to hear it.

Also if you have a story that you would like to promo then please do so in the comments. It is a okay if you want too. No pressure,

[solxamber]

Date(?) Night- Rook Hunt x reader

Rook is convinced that you have feelings for him after your "date". You have no idea what he's talking about

You’re minding your own business in the tranquil courtyard, taking in the morning sun, when suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar figure approaching—Rook Hunt. His feathered hat tips with the breeze, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You've come to learn that when Rook has that look in his eyes, it means he’s up to something. Something involving you, most likely.

"Ah, ma chérie, the morning sun pales in comparison to your beauty today!" Rook announces as he strides over, his voice dripping with theatrical flair.

You sigh but can’t help a small smile creeping up your lips. “Rook, it’s too early for this.”

“Non, non!” He gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest as if wounded. “It is never too early to admire the exquisite masterpiece that is before me.”

It’s his usual routine, something you’ve gotten used to over time, though it never ceases to catch you off guard when he throws in a new metaphor or an unexpected compliment. Today, however, there’s an extra glint of mischief in his eye, and you know he’s building up to something.

“And yet,” he says, his tone dropping as he leans a bit closer, “how can you sit here and pretend that last night was nothing?”

Your brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about, Rook?”

“Ah! You play coy!” He grins, crossing his arms, clearly delighting in your perplexed expression. “How can you tell me you don’t have feelings for me when we went for a long, romantic walk together last night?”

You blink at him, stunned. “Wait…what?”

“Oui, oui!” he nods enthusiastically, his smile wide and radiant. “The moonlit path, the rustling leaves, the gentle wind carrying the scent of flowers… Surely, you remember our intimate stroll under the stars.”

“We never went for a walk together, I walked home alone last night” you say slowly, trying to decipher whatever strange game he’s playing at.

“Ah, but we did,” Rook insists, eyes sparkling like he’s revealing the grandest secret. “I was there too! Behind the the trees. How could you not notice me?!”

You gape at him, mouth slightly open. He says it so casually, so cheerfully, as if his behavior was completely normal. And of course, with Rook, it kind of is.

“You were... hiding?” you ask, half-laughing in disbelief. “Stalking me from the trees?”

“Stalking?” He looks scandalized, shaking his head dramatically. “Non, non, non! I was merely observing! Like a hunter admires the grace of a deer as it glides through the forest. Every movement, every glance—it was all so enchanting! How could I resist?”

“Rook,” you say, rubbing your temples, “you can’t just follow people from the shadows and call it a romantic walk. That’s not how this works.”

“But of course it is!” He steps closer, eyes gleaming with intensity. “I was there, every step of the way. Witnessing your grace, your every thought etched upon your face as you gazed at the stars. How could that not be a shared moment?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, crossing your arms. “A shared moment usually involves, you know, both people being aware that it’s happening.”

Rook simply smiles, unfazed. “Details, details. The heart understands what the mind does not.”

“I’m pretty sure my mind understands that I was alone,” you reply, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

“And yet,” Rook continues, undeterred, “your heart knew I was there. It called out to me through the night. Even in your solitude, you must have felt my presence, my devotion.”

You shake your head, though you’re smiling now. "I didn’t feel anything, except maybe the wind. Are you sure it wasn’t just your imagination?"

Rook places a hand over his heart, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "Ah, mon trésor, do not wound me so. My feelings are as real as the stars we gazed upon—albeit, from different vantage points."

You can't help but laugh at his earnestness. Only Rook could make something so absurd sound so heartfelt. He’s watching you now, eyes still twinkling, clearly waiting for you to respond in kind.

“All right,” you say, crossing your arms, “so let me get this straight—you think I have feelings for you because you stalked me during a walk I took by myself?”

Rook gasps again, this time more softly. “Mon amour, you wound me with such harsh terms. I was merely accompanying you, albeit from a respectable distance. It’s not my fault you didn’t notice the hunter in the shadows.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “So, what now? Are you going to follow me on all my walks and claim we're having romantic dates?”

“Only if you wish,” he says brightly, as though it were a reasonable offer.

You blink at him, taken aback. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Why not?” Rook grins, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming as he peers down at you. “But! If it would please you more to be aware of my presence—”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you interrupt, chuckling. “How about you actually ask me on a date next time instead of lurking in the trees like some kind of... I don’t know, cryptid?”

Rook’s face lights up with a dazzling smile. “Ah! A formal invitation, then! Très bien, ma douce! Consider this my official request—will you grace me with your presence on a proper date, where we both walk together, side by side, beneath the moonlight?”

His eyes are so full of sincerity that it takes you a moment to respond. You weren’t expecting this to go anywhere serious, but Rook has a way of making the ridiculous seem… oddly romantic.

“Fine,” you say, smirking as you hold out your hand. “But only if you promise not to hide behind trees this time.”

Rook beams, clasping your hand in his and bringing it to his lips with a soft, gallant kiss. “You have my word, mon trésor. From this moment on, I shall walk beside you, in full view, where you can witness my admiration in all its glory.”

You can’t help but laugh, but there’s a warmth spreading in your chest as he continues to hold your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. For all his theatrics, Rook’s affection is genuine. He’s not just playing a part—he truly does admire you, even if his methods are a little… unconventional.

“Okay, then,” you say, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night,” he repeats, his voice soft but full of excitement.

You shake your head, unable to wipe the smile off your face as you turn to leave. But before you take more than a few steps, Rook calls out to you.

“Ah, but wait! One more thing!”

You stop, turning back to him with a curious look. “What now?”

Rook places a hand over his heart, bowing slightly as he gazes up at you with that intense, adoring expression of his. “How shall I dress for our moonlit rendezvous? Shall I wear the colors of the night, to blend in with the shadows, or shall I shine like the stars themselves, to match the radiance of your beauty?”

You roll your eyes but can't help the chuckle that escapes. “Just… wear something comfortable. We’re going for a walk, not a runway show.”

Rook gasps as though you’ve said something scandalous. “Comfortable? Ah, ma chère, there is no such thing as comfort when in the presence of such beauty. I must be at my most elegant, my most refined, my—”

“Rook,” you interrupt, laughing. “Just wear something normal, okay?”

He grins, eyes glinting with amusement. “As you wish, mon trésor. I shall endeavor to be ‘normal’ for you.”

With a shake of your head, you turn to walk away, this time managing to get a little further. But even as you leave him behind, you can still hear the faint sound of his voice, calling after you one last time.

“Tomorrow night, my dear! And this time, I promise—I’ll be right beside you!”

[powderpinkandsweeet]

Abby x Reader

Some sfw hurt comfort since I was craving it. Unoriginal but we ball. Abby keeps getting held up at work, missing date nights and coming home at all hours of the night, and you’re getting sick of it.

The waitress had refilled your glass three times now, and the wine stopped burning on the way down by now. Abby was late. Over an hour late, but it felt like so much longer. Each minute going by slower than the last, especially with the repeated visits from your over-attentive waitress. 'Abby oughta learn something about attentiveness from her' you joked to yourself bitterly.

You tap your phone screen to check the time once again. Opening it, you see no notifications from Abby and your long string of worried texts.

5:25PM - Hey! I got us a table :) see you soon <3

5:37PM - Are you on your way yet? I can order you a drink

6:00PM - Everything okay?

6:10PM - Abbyyyy

6:11PM - Abby

6:35PM - Abigail.

6:45PM - Abigail Anderson.

You decided it was the last straw, and prodded her once more.

7:00PM - I'm so done. If you're not here in the next ten minutes I'm going home.

You practically threw your phone at the table, and crossed your arms to wait out the next ten minutes, just you and your fourth glass of wine. Ten minutes later, your glass is empty and you're flagging down the waitress for the check. You pretended not to notice the pitying look she gave you.

7:04 - I'm venmo requesting you for my drinks

You called an uber and steeped in your anger all the way home. Wine-drunk and pissed off, you kicked off your shoes and fell into bed, still dressed up with nowhere to go. Your phone buzzed, and you were on it immediately.

Abby, 7:30PM - Held up at work for a bit, check in just a sec

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," you blurt out loud, "you didn't even read them, did you?" you called to the empty room.

You, 7:31PM - cool, have so much fun

Abby, 7:40PM - ???

Abby, 7:52PM - We were getting drinks tonight?? Where at? I can still meet you there if you give me just a bit.

You: 7:53PM - Dinner, not drinks. Made a reservation 3 weeks ago and sent you the invite. It's on the calendar on the fridge."

You: 7:54PM - And don't bother, I'm already home.

Your message was read instantly, but you couldn't see the three dots so you knew Abby wasn't typing.

'You fucked up. Fucked up real bad this time' Abby thought to herself as she grabbed a bouquet of grocery store flowers and a tub of ice cream from the passenger seat of her car. She took deep breaths as she climbed the steps to your shared home. After the door locked behind her and she'd toed off her shoes, Abby checked her phone for the time, '8:48PM.' "Fuck..." she whispered under her breath. Hours late for your date, and it took her far too long to get out of the office, pick up the flowers and ice cream, bear through Seattle traffic, and make it home to you.

The lights were out and the house was silent as she made her way to your bedroom. She saw you through the partially opened door, flopped face down in the bed, wearing a dress and stockings that were far too formal for bedtime. Maybe it was a little too late for flowers and ice cream. Abby pushed the door open, and it gave her away as the hinges creaked.

You stirred, tiredly lifting your head to turn and glare at Abby. She had to hold in a wince at the two tracks of mascara down your cheeks. You didn't seem excited to see her, rewarding her presence only with a "hmph" and dropping your head back onto the bed. Muffled, she could barely make out your complaint of "bout time you showed up." She held in a chuckle at your stubbornness, knowing it would only get her in more trouble. It didn’t help that you were so cute when you’re angry.

Abby sighed and started to peel her blazer from her broad shoulders, "I know I'm late, I didn't mean to let this happen. You know I hate disappointing you, honey."

You sat up quickly, "oh don't you honey me, Abigail."

"Mhm, so we're using government names now?"

"Yep," you quickly replied.

Abby called out for you with a pleading tone, "Listen, I'm sorry. I got wrapped up at work and-"

"They needed you, yes, I know," you looked her straight in the eyes, "we've been here before, Abby, but it never changes. No matter how many times you say sorry, it's not worth much unless you actually change the action you keep being sorry for."

"Baby, you know I never want to disappoint you."

You sat upright and threw your hands in the air, “then stop doing it! Yeah okay your job needs you, but I need you too. I don't think it's selfish of me to want one night alone with the woman who claims she loves me.”

Abby stepped closer to you and pointed an accusing finger in your direction. “Don’t. Don’t say that, you know I love you more than anything.”

"Then act like it!" you sob, "because sometimes it feels like you love your job more. Because this isn't the first time, Abby, and it obviously won't be the last." You had realized right when you said them that your words were too harsh, and choked on your next breath.

Abby was hurt but overcome with shame at the realization that she’d been hurting you consistently. For you to feel second to her hit her like a ton of bricks. Abby sat beside you on the bed, leaning forward with her head in her hands. After a heavy sigh, she looked up to meet your eyes, "how long did you wait at the restaurant for?"

You chuckled humorlessly, "psh... nearly an hour and a half."

"I see... well you look really pretty if that's worth anything."

"Ha! You should have seen me two hours ago when my mascara wasn't on my chin."

Abby smiled. Even though it was sarcastic, you still kept your humor, and that was a good sign. "Well, I think the mascara tracks bring the whole look together."

You chuckled again, "you really think so?"

She smiled wider, dimples showing on her cheeks. "You look gorgeous, sweetie. Now come on, up up, gotta get you ready for bed." Abby gave your wrist a gentle tug, but you groaned and remained firmly in place. Your many glasses of wine must have caught up to you. Sliding her arms under your limp frame, Abby lifted you from the bed and carried you to the en suite bathroom.

You sat on toilet lid as she ran a hot bubble bath. While the tub filled, Abby grabbed makeup wipes from your drawer and set to cleaning you up. She held your chin gently with one hand and wiped the smeared makeup from your eyes and cheeks. You had relaxed into her touch and let your eyes slip closed while she wiped them, being drawn from your reverie by a kiss on the nose. "There, all clean. Lets get you in the bath now."

After you had submerged your aching muscles in the water, you looked up at Abby expectantly. "Need anything else, princess?"

"I need you to come sit in the bath with me."

Abby couldn't stifle a laugh, making out through chuckles, "baby, I'd hardly fit in there, plus there's too much water in it right now. It'll overflow if I try to get in there with you."

You pouted and looked away at her refusal. After a moment, you pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub to lower the water. Abby smiled, thinking she must have earned back your favor if you were being this stubborn for her company. She couldn't resist when you looked up at her and plead "I just wanna be close to you." Abby's heart thumped in her chest at you admission, so she undressed.

She was right that the bath would overflow, even after you had drained a few inches of water. But it didn't matter when you were snug between Abby's spread legs, back pressed to her front and your head resting against her shoulder. Her fingers scratched at your scalp and played with her hair as she hummed. You melted into her gentle touch, content. All you had wanted was her time, and her presence.

[capr1pengu1n]

So let's all pretend that we are undead

Summary: After an encounter with something you're sure wasn't human, you come to find that he can't seem to keep himself away from you

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), vampire au, so typical vampire things (vampire lore is whatever i say it is), choking, fingering, dom!Edward, power play, marking, stalker behaviour

Words: 4.6k

Notes: So after the lovely @adhdnursegoat posted her amazing vampire edward fic (which you all should read cause it's so delicious), i remembered i'd posted a vampire au fic on ao3 ages ago and never posted it on here, so here it is. I edited it so it flows better with how i write currently.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hairs bristle on the back of your neck as you walk your standard commute home, the physiological response a frighteningly normal part of your life for the past couple of weeks. You keep walking, one foot in front of the other as the wind lightly blows your skirt around your thighs. Out of the corners of your eyes, shadows move and twist into alleyways and darkened shop windows under the moonlight.

The feeling of being watched is something quite new to you. Of course, you were once a child cowering under the blankets at night, fear emanating from that corner of your room that was just a bit too dark, a bit too empty. However, the feeling had naturally dissipated once you reached adulthood. You grew up, realised no monsters were lurking in the shadows, or creatures hiding beneath your bed ready to feast on your ankles. At least, that's what you thought. But now, since you'd met him, you felt you were always the subject of someones intense gaze.

Thinking about the first time you met him, was it even a him? It made your head grow fuzzy and unfocused. You distinctly remembered the panic you felt after missing the last bus, the biting chill of the night air as you walked back, the tight feeling of your shoes and the planning to return them as they weren’t fitting right. The pre-occupied thoughts must have led you to take a wrong turn, but after that the memory feels wrong; like a tv full of static occasionally getting a flash of cable network. You remember a sort of warmth, a hand? Maybe, you think something must have pushed you. But what you mainly remember is the terrible ache in your neck the morning after, how groggy and light headed you'd felt. You shake your head and continue to press on, the faded memory won't help you get home after all. Although for a reason you can't quite place, the colour green won't leave your mind’s eye.

A clatter causes you to turn around, your heart jumping to your throat at the loud noise. False alarm, you watch as the empty pepsi can rolls sadly along the pavement. You get your phone out to entertain yourself until the screen flickers and the battery dies. You start to slightly panic now; you knew you’d charged it so there’s no way it should be out of power this quickly. As the streetlamps flicker too, you increase your pace. You’ve watched enough horror films to know you don't want to hang around when weird things start happening, so you maintain a quick stride, ducking through shortcuts and ignoring what you thought are footsteps behind you on multiple occasions.

“I think you dropped something.”

Before you register the question, you feel something grab your arm hard enough to have you stumbling. Your head spins around to face your attacker, ready to fight. He's tall, easily able to overpower you as you're pushed back against the wall and your face tilted up towards him. He looks…human? What an odd thing for you to think, it’s not like he can be anything else. Glasses frame his admittedly handsome face, and your eyes dart to the tailored suit that clings to him in a dark shade of green; the more you look at it, the more your mind seemingly feels fuzzy, so you opt to stare into the pools of his eyes instead.

You feel the blood pumping throughout your entire body, the nervous twitch of your fingers as your mind races. You want to run, to scream, to stay and find out what exactly the man before you wants. He smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes, gazing down at you in what could only be described as fascination. “Shhh, don’t fret” he whispers, the cadence somehow putting you more at ease and making your body feel weightless.

“What- what do you want?”

He seemingly laughs at that, like the mere thought of you attempting a conversation with him was somehow amusing, but he divulges you.

“I have come to apologise; I can’t help but think I-“ he pauses, “over-exerted you last time we met.”

You go to explain that you’ve never met him before, but like a tidal wave it comes crashing back to you. It was him. He had done something, left that mark on your neck and had you deliriously waking up inside your apartment with no clue how you came to arrive there. Now, all you can visualise in your mind’s eye when you think about that night is the dark green that adorns his figure.

“Clever girl, I knew you’d remember. Although I admit I was not the most gentlemanly presence that night.”

While his words imply that he's trying to apologise, his tone carries no such weight.

“Someone as delicate as you all alone, you’re lucky it was me who found you.”

Scrambling in your mind, you manage to crawl out of the haze he seemingly has you under to demand an answer to a question that has plagued you you. What happened that night? But all he says in reply was “I was hungry.”

Before you can hope to say another word, he softly brings his hand up to your jaw, tracing down your neck until he reaches the marks he left.

“They’ve healed well” he breathes; his voice so soft you could barely hear it. “I suppose it’s too soon to drink from you again, I do want you to remain intact.”

You should be scared, should be screaming for help and fighting him off, but you aren't. You don't want to, why do you want to be his captive? While you don't understand who, or what, he is, you somehow know that he doesn't want to hurt you. Instead, all you have to contend with is the embarrassing realisation that you have been pressing your thighs together the whole time he spoke, his voice vibrating through you as his touch sends little jolts all around your body. His eyes flit down to your thighs, and your whole body seems to shift under his gaze.

“Such an eager little thing” he muses, “I wasn’t expecting such a response, but it is indeed welcome”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and when he places his hand on your thigh you can't stop yourself from rocking forward. That motion causes a real laugh from him, a noise deep and inhuman, something that in any other situation probably would have sent shocks of anxiety through you but instead sends you deeper into your own depravity. But he withdraws his hand, and takes a deliberate step back away from you. Confusion sweeps across your face, although his remains impassive.

“No, if I am to take you it will not be in an alleyway like a common whore.”

Your face flushes as the reality of what you had just been so eager for him to do sets in, you don't even know this man’s name yet you were so willing to have him touch you so intimately.

“Go home pretty girl, I’ll announce myself when the time is right”

His tone leaves no room for negotiation as he moves to walk away, not before stopping to utter “My name is Edward, since you were wondering.”

You get the sense he already knows yours, despite never giving it. You blink and he's gone, he hadn’t walked away, he was simply gone. Dissipated into thin air like a blow of smoke. So, you start to walk home yet again, body still aching and your mind reeling at the encounter you’d just had.

It's a few days until you have an encounter with him again. The hour is late, although this time thankfully you're safe in your apartment, having finished your depressing routine of re-watching your favourite show alone with a quick dinner you’d prepared. You're just starting to doze off on the sofa when the knock comes at your door. Freezing, you turn towards the door and listen again. Another knock comes, loud and imposing. You weren’t expecting visitors, so shyly you get up to look through the peephole but nobody sees to be there. Opening the door, you jump when you see him, Edward, staring at you from the hallway.

“Mind if I come in?” he inquires, and something about the way he speaks makes you want to say yes to anything.

You manage to shake that disturbing feeling but stammer out a yes and step aside for him to enter. He looks the same as when you’d saw him last, his pristine suit spotless save for a small dot of red staining the crisp white of his shirt. He walks straight into your living room, looking around in feigned curiosity while you awkwardly pick at your sleeve. What were you even meant to say to him?

“Have you been thinking of me?” he asks, and stares deeply at your shocked expression. You hadn’t expected him to say something so blunt, so you change the subject to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting you had.

“Who are you? Why are you- “

“Why am I here? My dear I thought you’d be happy, after all it was you who was so desperate for my personal attention when we last spoke was it not?” He replies, the smugness present in his tone.

You know you have no way of avoiding the inevitable, shameful memories pouring through as you recall just how horny he’d made you with just a few simple touches. Although the rationality thankfully starts to come back to you, as you still hadn’t had a clear answer as to what happened to you during that previous encounter.

“I suppose I’ll lay your suspicions to rest; I can see they’ve been plaguing you.” He starts, ignoring your shocked expression as he seemingly reached into your mind and pulled out the interrogative you’d been thinking of. “When I first laid eyes on you, the hunger I had been experienced increased tenfold, I needed to have you in my arms while I drained the blood from your neck”

Now you really are speechless, the cold tone in which he admits to such an act causes a chill to run up your spine. It was so…inhuman. You should laugh in his face at such a story, but your thoughts go hazy and you find yourself accepting his speech as fact. As he speaks, he walks closer to you, and when you crane your head to look at him, his neutral expression can't quite hide the darkness in his eyes. 

“And so, I did. I bit into you and you satiated me. It’s been a while since my prey was so happy, even through the daze of your vision.” Amusement bleeds through his cadence as he recalls the memory of you pliant in his hands, reaching up to once again trace the mark left on your neck, now nearly healed.

“What the hell are you?”

The sound of his uncanny laugh reaches your ears once more, deep and unsettling. Instead of answering, he leans closer to your neck, his hot breath brushing against the mark he left. Tense, you close your eyes and brace for pain that never comes. Instead he simply kisses the spot, causing you to shiver and making him hum in appreciation.

“Tell me you want me.” He demands, “Do that and I will have you experiencing pleasures your fragile mind cannot hope to quantify.”

You can't stop the noise that rips from your throat even if you'd have tried, and despite any self-preservation you may have, you nod sheepishly.

“I said tell me, sweet thing.”

“I want you.”

“Good choice.”

He pushes you against the wall and you await his next rough movement, but instead he kisses at your neck, leaving little marks in his wake, and making you gasp at the coldness of his lips. He holds a tight grip on your hips, keeping you still and where he wants you, so all you can do is stand there and take his teasing. You feel something sharp as he drags what you guess are his fangs along your neck down towards your collarbones, your loose shirt allowing him access as he continues to leave his mark on your fragile skin.

“Do you have any idea,” He drawls against your shoulder, “how hard it is to hold myself back from ravaging you? Ever since that night, my desires have been plagued by you.”

You try to rock against him at his words but his grip remains firm.

“To think some mortal girl could overtake my thoughts like this.” The mixture of resentment and lust was clear in his voice, pulling away to look at you before grabbing your neck with his hand. You stand there, at the complete mercy of this man, this creature who could destroy you so easily, and it scares and exhilarates you in equal measure. But those thoughts come to an end when he finally kisses you roughly. Like a symphony, everything in your body seems to sing in delight, your eyes almost rolling back as the ecstasy of his lips on yours overtakes you. Maintaining the grip on your neck, his other hand makes its way down to your hips and up under your shirt. With every trace of his ice-cold fingertips up your torso, he leaves goosebumps in his wake and your body trembles. 

“Such a gorgeous thing.” he rasps, inches away from your lips. “So eager for my touch.”

You can only nod in response and grip on to the lapels of his jacket. You have never felt such burning desire in your life; the more you look in his eyes, the more the ache between your thighs intensifies. 

“Come now, let’s continue in more comfortable surroundings.”

He pulls away and leads you to your bedroom, you're so overcome with desire you fail to notice how he knows the layout of your apartment without you telling him. Before you can ponder that, you're sprawled on your back upon your bed, with him towering over you like the apparition of a god. He traces his hand over your body before lifting your shirt slightly to fully expose you to his gaze.

“I feed your anger, and I sicken your desire to satisfy me with every look, what am I?”

It takes you a moment to process what he says, but you're in no sense to try and decipher a riddle. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind, more so wanting to tell you the answer himself, proving his intellect.

“Envy, my dear. When I look at your body it makes me long for the warmth a mortal can provide.”

“You really aren’t human, are you?” you manage to stammer out, which awards you a low laugh from him.

“No. No I am not, although it doesn’t seem to be affecting you negatively now does it? I think you like it.”

He smiles then, a wicked grin that can only be described as a predator smiling at its prey. “Is that true? What a foolish little girl you are, getting aroused at the power of another being. Someone who could tear you apart.”

As he says the words, static jolts through your body making you let out a whimper and push against nothing. You look at him and he revels in your reaction, before the same sensation wracks through you. It's like you've had the air sucked from your lungs, you gasp and writhe as he commands your body without even touching you. But it isn't enough.

“Please- “

“Hm? Is there something you want my dear?”

After the third time he sends electric through seemingly your soul, you relent; you beg for him to touch you, to hurt you, to give you anything other than the blissful torture he was subjecting you to.

“If you insist.” is all he remarks callously before getting on the bed with you, ripping your underwear off with a hidden strength and pushing your skirt up, before lowering himself until he's eye level with your dripping cunt. The lewd position makes you embarrassed, but when he licks a stripe up you, your thoughts turn to mush and your head falls back. He repeats the motion before focusing on your clit, sucking while he grips onto your thighs. You can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips as he continues to please you with his mouth. Such divine pleasure coming from a creature shrouded in malevolent power makes the sensations so visceral, so intense. Bringing a hand to his hair, you attempt to shift your hips upward to feel more of his tongue but he keeps you firmly pressed into the mattress.

“You taste delightful.” He states against you, the vibration pleasantly shooting up your body. He continues to lick circles around your clit, and you gasp when you feel one of his fingers teasing your entrance. “Ask for more and I’ll give it to you, in abundance.”

So, you do. You beg for more in a way you didn’t think possible from you, sounding so desperate to your own ears. Looking down at him, you see the sadistic glint in his eyes at the way you sound, it's clear he was reveling in the power he has over you.

Luckily, he divulges your request, pushing a finger inside you; the coldness of it makes you whine and once again you attempt to shift under his grip. He ignores you, moving in and out until he feels you're ready enough for him to add a second one. All the while he continues to lavish your clit with his tongue, giving you an ecstasy that leaves your body ignited with lust. You need more, you can't take anymore. It's too much and not enough all at once.

Your pitiful cries seem to spur him on, thrusting his fingers a bit faster and crooking them just right to have your eyes rolling back into your skull. Over and over again, he has you at his mercy and you adore every second. To think you’d found out this man, this thing wasn’t human and in the same encounter offered yourself and your body willingly to him scared and excited you in one single warped wave of pleasure. He starts to gently suck on your clit once again, his fingers thrusting faster and rougher into your soaked cunt. You know it won't be long before you come undone beneath him, the prediction coming true as you feel it build inside you. Just like before he seems to once again enter your mind and know what you're thinking.

“Are you close already? My my how desperate you truly are, do you want to cum?”

You nod eagerly; your vision hazy as something seems to overtake your brain like a blanket atop a candle. You hear him speak again, but not just through your ears but through your mind.

“Submit to me, become mine and I will grant you the pleasure you crave.”

There's no other option, you have to say yes and you know you want nothing more. So you offer yourself to him fully, claiming to be his, watching as he seemingly comes alive; his fingers moving impossibly quick and something like colour appearing on his cheeks.

“Then cum.”

With his permission you let go, crying out his name as fireworks seemingly explode in your entire body. Squeezing your eyes shut, you can't control the frenzied movement of your body as it thrusts up into him. His grip on your thigh had loosened, allowing you to ride out your frantic pleasure as it seemingly lasts for an eternity. When you finally come back down from the heavens you're breathing sharply, opening your eyes to see Edward rising slightly from his position. You barely have time to think before he leans forward and bites your inner thigh. A sharp pain rushes through you as you look down in shock, seeing him lap up the blood that trickles from the wound; your thigh now has the exact same mark which was on your neck and despite both your morality and post-orgasm haze, your cunt throbs at the sight of him drinking up your blood.

“It seems I couldn’t control myself.” He states matter-of-factly, wiping a trace of blood from his lips with his finger. He then looks at you with an expression you can't read, before leaning over you and placing the finger in your mouth. Without thinking you suck the bloodied finger clean, staring at his eyes which darkened at your actions.

“Good girl.”

It had been the only time thus far that he’d praised your actions, which leads to you flushing and turning your head away. He brings you back to facing him with a hand on your jaw.

“You’re so easy to read, I hardly need to comb through your mind to know what you’re thinking.”

You stare at him, unsure as to how to vocalise your feelings. You settle on asking him how he can read your mind, which results in him smirking slightly.

“Reading your mind? What a simplistic way to put it. But I suppose if that’s the language it takes for you to understand, yes people like me can do that with ease.”

You feel a little embarrassed at the condescending way he speaks to you, although it isn't long before you forget all about it when you feel him push you so you're on your back once again. You look up at him, before he captures your lips in a fierce kiss once again. Each time he does this, it always strikes you just how cold his skin is to the touch.

“Now,” he starts, “I will take you properly, hm?”

You're a little shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you nod regardless. As he gets you in position, that same clouding of your mind happens as it had earlier; the weight of something pressing on your thoughts, making you feel so desperate for his attention, his touch, his anything.

With a gasp from your lips, you feel him enter you, a whine escaping your lips at the sensation. Grabbing on to his shoulders, you feel the air be drawn from your lungs as he pulls out and thrusts into you harshly. 

“You feel…divine” he manages to say into your ear, before his thrusts become slower. He traces his hand down your body, grabbing at your tits before growling slightly and ripping your top completely off; you’d been so caught up in what happened you’d forgot you were still wearing it. With every slow thrust you almost feel your sanity slipping away more and more, your fingernails digging in more and more to his shoulders.

“How does it feel? To have a…creature so superior to you inside you? He whispers, the pride in his voice suffocating. Despite his narcissism, you can't help but whine and tell him how good everything feels, not quite being able to articulate the pleasure he was giving you through more than just his physical touch. 

He begins to speed up after your admission, grabbing at your hip and waist before stroking his hand up and wrapping it around your throat; not squeezing but simply holding. You have no doubt that even though he was fucking you, he still posed a danger to you, and as you looked into his cold eyes you could see that that was the point. He delights in the control he has, that he could just as soon kill you than he could make you cum. And more importantly, he knows you like it.

You feel your eyes roll back slightly as he continues his pace, the slight noises of pleasure from his lips make your cunt throb more. He doesn't seem to get tired or over-exert himself, instead maintaining whatever rhythm he desires.

“Such a…greedy thing” he states, his thrusts getting faster, “You truly are a vision, what a pretty pet I seem to have found.”

You shudder at his words; your fingers having moved to drag your nails down his back as he adjusts his head near your ear to whisper into. The pleasure, the sensation, it's overwhelming. You shift your hips, the angle causing him to hit that spot inside you that has your mind reeling. All you can do is nod and release noises from your mouth that upon reflection you’re sure can't have come from you, they're so…desperate.

“And I’ll be sure to make you into such a good pet for me…all mine to use.” It was clear he meant what he said, his hand tightening on your throat. You can't help but moan at his words, the chill of his body pressing against yours mixing to create a euphoria in your head. Over and over, he thrusts into you, getting deliberately rougher as you two get closer and closer.

It was then you feel something you can't describe, an oppressive feeling throughout your entire body that simmers just below your skin. You don't know how, but you know it's him causing you to experience the strange sensation.

“Do you feel it? The control I have over you?” His grip tightens on your neck even more, causing you to struggle for breath. The feeling in your body swirls and fills every pore, every inch of you. You have never experienced anything like this in your life, the sheer ecstasy and torture of being at this monster’s mercy, inside and out.

“What fun I shall have with you, your mind cannot hope to quantify the things I am able to do to you, and I will do all of them.”

You aren't sure whether it's his rough pace, his harsh words or the fact that whatever he's doing to your mind decided it was time, but you cum loudly and frantically. The waves of pleasure crash into you; you feel as though if it wasn’t for his form pressed so close, you'd fall through the mattress and into nothingness. The world seems blurry and disjointed, your nails digging in to his back so harshly you're sure in the back of your mind you're leaving marks. Strained breaths claw their way up your throat as you feel his grip loosen, his thrusts never faltering for a moment. Overwhelmed, the feeling of him pounding into you while you're still so sensitive causes you to whine pitifully, but all you can do was lay there and let him use your body. The drag of his cock pulling out and pushing back in to you hurt so good, you almost don't want it to end despite the overstimulation. You aren't sure how long it takes, or even if you cum again from the sheer amount of pleasure your body was receiving but you feel him cum inside you, rambling about how you belonged to him as he rides out his own high. 

All that you can hear in the room is your loud laboured breathing, as the weight of his body on you was now gone. You look up at him, seeing him adjust his clothes like he’d simply done something mundane, not fucked you within an inch of your life. He glances over at you, at how pitiful you looked; half naked and sweaty, thoroughly satiated and he smirks a little. Within a moment he reaches over and strokes your cheek slightly, the intimacy surprising you. He brushes some hair out of your face, his fingers slightly shaking before standing up.

“Rest, your fragile body needs it.” His tone sounds distant, but there was a hint in his face that he wants to say something else but refrains.

“Will I see you again?”

Your question makes him smile slightly, walking towards your bedroom door but stopping before he left.

“Would you like that?” 

The way he asks makes you think he's experiencing surprise, as if the thought of you wanting to interact with him again was somehow unusual. You nod your head.

 “Then yes…I’m sure you will.”

He leaves without saying another word, leaving you still sprawled out on your bed, your mind racing. With slightly shaky limbs, you adjust yourself and wrap the blanket around your trembling form, exhaustion settling into your bones. The next morning, you're ready to write the encounter off as a wildly inappropriate dream until you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, still naked. Marks. Lots of them. All over your neck, with what looked to be fingerprints adorning the side. And as you gazed at the massacre of your skin, soft fingertips gently running over the blotched marks, you can't help but smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 4

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, bit of trauma processing, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: family discord and dealing with trauma, drugs briefly mentioned, human trafficking briefly mentioned

word count: 1.7k

Chapter 1 ... Chapter 3 Chapter 4

I thought I was a strong, independent woman. I thought I preferred to take care of myself, that I could never be comfortable relying on others. One date with Jason had me strongly questioning those convictions. He bought the books, we had a late lunch/early dinner at the food court, wandered several stores, and talked about everything and nothing. I managed to keep him from buying every little thing I looked at, but we still ended up with several bags - all of which he insisted on carrying. Even with the bags in his hands, he managed to get his pinky wrapped around mine every time my hand was down. It was clingy, and awkward to walk, and it made me giddy. Is this feeling what everyone’s so obsessed with? … I think I get it now.

Jason drove me home that night, insisting that it was getting too dark and he didn't like the idea of me on public transit alone at night. Normally I would fight him on that, but the idea of walking home from the bus stop was doing unpleasant things to my stomach. He parked, and we took several minutes to rearrange the items in our bags.

“... I guess that’s everything.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. … Thank you, Jay, this was a lot of fun.”

He smiled softly, nodding. “I had fun too. … Can I … see you again?”

“It's a distinct possibility.” I smirked a bit. “After all, I have yet to pass judgment on your trashy romance novel selection.”

He laughed softly, groaning and rubbing his face. “I already regret suggesting that. Give it back, you can't have it.”

I held my bags away from him, giggling a bit as he pretended to try to steal them. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my vision, and I saw a silhouette on the roof across the street. “Oh god…”

“What? What's wrong??” Jason pulled back a bit.

“There’s someone on that roof. Which one is that, can you tell?” I peered up, but with the moon behind them I couldn't see any details.

Jason turned to look too, suddenly a bit stoney. “... Looks like Red Robin and Nightwing.”

“... Two of them? Are you sure? I only see one.” He just nodded. “... Fuuuhhhck, what's happening in my stupid neighborhood?”

“Probably nothing. This isn't their patrol territory…. Or … at least, that's what I've heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “You've heard? … What, do they take their cars to you?”

“... Something like that. … Anyway, it's well known, this is Red Hood's part of town.”

“... You don't think they're here for him, do you? I thought they were allied now?”

Jason shook his head a bit. “Probably just trying to spy on him … nosy bitches…”

I giggled a bit at that, but couldn't help the sneaking concern in the back of my mind. If they really were here to spy on Red Hood, that would suggest he was nearby … Did he decide he wanted his shirt back after all, or was something bad happening in the area?

Jason turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, don't worry about them. You just get inside where it's safe, ok?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Ok, but text me when you get home.”

He nodded, chuckling, “will do. And … about seeing each other again, … how about lunch on Tuesday?”

I nodded, grinning. “Sounds good. Good night, Jay.”

“Night, Doll.” I blushed a bit, getting out of the car and into my building. He waited for me to close the door before driving away, and I headed up to my apartment.

I wasn't sure what I'd find upstairs. I hadn't told Red Hood my unit number, but it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to figure out. … Hell, the shirt might have a tracker on it.

I unlocked my door and checked every room. Nothing had moved. My clothes were still in a crumpled heap on my floor, the flannel still peaking out from under my ruined pants. It occurred to me that I had meant to pick up a replacement pair at the mall before heading home. I sat on my knees, trembling a bit as I picked up the shirt. A thorough examination didn't reveal any electronic pieces attached. It was just a normal red flannel.

I held the shirt against my chest, shaking a bit. Everything was fine. I was fine. Red Hood was one of the good guys, even if he did some really terrifying shit. I wasn't a drug dealer or a human trafficker, so he had nothing against me. He was kind to me, even. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

My mind slowly drifted away from that night. Thoughts of blood and fear were replaced bit by bit with Jason; his shy little smiles and cheeky grins, the feeling of his finger wrapped around mine, even the smell of his cologne. When I breathed deep I could still smell it; a rich, woody smell, with a bit of lavender, and under that was a base note I couldn't identify. Something sharp and slightly metallic. I sighed softly, deciding not to think too hard about why I was tying the shirt around my waist, and started tidying the apartment. Couldn't put the pile off forever, but I didn't have to start there…

Jason watched her go inside, waiting to make sure no creeps followed her in before the security door locked. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he drove off, calling Dick. Straight to voicemail. He tried Tim; also straight to voicemail. Annoying, but fine. He knew where they would be headed next.

Unfortunately for them, the drive was not nearly long enough to calm him down. He pulled in to the batcave and sat on the hood of his car to watch the entrance. Eventually the pair rode in, staring at him like he was the grim reaper.

“… Heeeyy Jason! What are you doing here? Don't you have tonight off?” Tim tried to play it cool, taking his bike to its designated parking spot.

“You should be more careful, Tim. She saw you.”

“Whaaaat? I don't know what you're-”

“She. Saw. You. On that rooftop.” Jason growled a bit, clenching his fist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to reassure her that her neighborhood was not about to be attacked without revealing too much?”

“C'mon Jaybird, we just wanted to check in!” Dick grinned, moving to pinch his cheek. “Baby Jay-Jay's first date! You can't fault us for being excited for you!”

He smacked Dick's hand. “I can and do. Don't do anything like that ever again.”

Dick hissed dramatically, pouting. “You're so mean, Jay. We just wanted to see if it was going well!”

“Stop. Spying. On me.” He growled, giving Tim a pointed glare. The younger man raised both hands in surrender and nodded.

Dick smirked as Jason opened his car door, calling out; “okaaay, but don't forget to report in to the chat. Unless you'd rather Babs check the CCTV footage at the mall for us?”

Jason froze and growled. “… Fuck….” He slammed the door shut and drove away without another word.

BatKids Group Chat:

Jason: It went well. Now everyone STOP stalking me! You're weirding her out! 😡

8:04pm

Cass: Excuse me??

8:06pm

Damian: Grayson and Drake are the only ones interested enough to bother stalking you, maybe you should focus your ire on them and not the whole family?

8:06pm

Babs: We need details, Jay!

8:07pm

Duke: Wait, what??

8:08pm

Dick: Jaybird went on a date today, Duke! Keep up!

8:09pm

Tim: With a normal human-type girl no less!

8:10pm

Damian: How normal can she be? She accepted a date with Todd after you two harassed her.

8:11pm

Cass: 🙃 … Dick, do we need to have a talk? 

8:12pm

Damian: I handled the matter at the coffee shop. (and am still waiting to be thanked, for the record Todd - the date would not have happened if I hadn't stepped in.) … But still, the girl's taste does seem questionable.

8:13pm

Dick: There was nothing to handle! We had it under control! 🙄

8:14pm

Cass: I hate to say it, but Dami does have a point - are we /sure/ she's entirely normal? There's no chance she's an undercover villain or anything?

8:14pm

Tim: Way ahead of you - background check came back clean. She's as normal as any other Gothamite.

8:15pm

Duke: So … absolutely nuts, but probably not too dangerous? 😂

8:16pm

Babs: Don’t listen to them, Jason - she's a very lucky (normal) girl!

8:17pm

Jason: You cannot be serious. You ran a background check???

8:19pm

Steph: What Babs said. Now, make with the details! 🤩

8:20pm

Dick: Of course we did - what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go out with a girl we know nothing about???

8:21pm

Jason: 😑 … This is exactly why I don't usually respond to this thread.

8:30pm

Duke: Details, man!

8:31pm

Steph: Details! Details! Details!

8:32pm

Jason: 😤 … We picked out books for each other.

8:38pm

Dick: Awww, cute!

8:39pm

Babs: … And???

8:40pm

Jason: And … She seemed a bit surprised that I was there at all?

8:43pm

Damian: Pleasantly surprised, or upset?

8:44pm

Jason: … Just … Baffled I think.

8:45pm

Tim: … How many times did you have to reschedule?

8:46pm

Jason: … A few. But I always told her with enough time so that I wouldn't be standing her up! 

8:47pm

Babs: Curious…

8:48pm

Dick: Alright everybody, recon time!

8:48pm

Jason: NO! It is NOT recon time!

8:49pm

Damian: What do we know about this girl?

8:50pm

Babs: On it!

8:50pm

Jason: No, no, NO! Stop!!!

8:51pm

Tim: Too late!

8:52pm

Jason: Uuggghh! I'm muting all of you!

8:53pm

Tim: … NOT IT TO TELL B!

8:55pm

Damian: Not it

8:56pm

Babs: Not it!

8:56pm

Cass: NOT IT!

8:57pm

Steph: Not it!!!

8:58pm

Duke: Not it!

8:58pm

Dick: …. Fuck.

9:03pm

Divider by: @saradika 

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid

[morganaspendragonss]

you only see the light shine in dark times

5.01 has apparently given me inspiration again we love to see it! enjoy! ao3 | 1k | 5.01 coda, angst and hurt/comfort

He’s grown used to it by now, to Carlos rushing off in the middle of lunch dates and coming home in the middle of the night. He’s grown used to the thousand-yard stares and the constant presence of that case looming over them. He’s grown used to sleeping alone.

But it still hurts. It still aches something deep within TK when he spends yet another night with only Lou Two for company. He could invite people over, the crew, his dad, but he doesn’t want them to know that this is what his life – his marriage – has become. They wouldn’t understand, and he thinks perhaps his dad would understand a little too well, which is an uncomfortable thought.

Not that his marriage is going to end up like his parents’. TK won’t let it. And he is proud of Carlos; deeply, wholly, overwhelmingly so. Seeing him on the news tonight, standing at the chief’s right hand, the youngest Ranger in the line-up by far, had sent a pulse of love and pride directly to TK’s heart, where it still sits, beating strongly away. He loves Carlos for his dedication to his work, and he wouldn’t have him any other way.

But he would have him at home.

The loft isn’t a big place, smaller even than his New York apartment, but right now it feels cavernous, yawning around him. He can almost hear the echo of his feet on the concrete as he sets Lou back in his tank and clears up for the night. The remaining peppers go in the fridge, alongside the leftovers of a dinner he’d made last night in the foolish hope that they could share a full meal together without worrying about call-outs or cases. Instead, TK had been left with too much chicken pasta and Carlos had eaten vending machine energy bars and peanuts.

TK doesn’t fully trust that he won’t do the same tonight, but there’s nothing he can do about it now, except leave the light by the window on. He imagines it’s a beacon, a sole light in the dark, and he imagines that Carlos can see it from his office all the way across town. 

Come home, he thinks, wishes, prays. Come home to me.

Even after he gets in bed, he always tries to stay up for a while, waiting to hear the door rolling along the tracks, Carlos shuffling about, the click of the lamp being turned off. It’s a rare occasion, but it’s happened once or twice, and TK likes to feign sleep until Carlos is finally settled next to him. Then, he’ll pretend to stir, just a little, and he’ll roll over to pull him close.

Tonight, as with most nights, he doesn’t make it, though he’s not sure what time it is when he finally falls asleep. All he knows is that it’s late and Carlos still hasn’t come home.

*

While nights are an ever rarer privilege, TK can usually count on at least a few minutes with his husband in the mornings. Which is why he panics this morning, when he wakes up not to Carlos in bed with him, but to coldness on the other side of the bed. It’s happened before when he’s overslept after a long or late shift, but yesterday’s was neither, and a quick glance at his phone tells him it’s not even seven yet. If Carlos hasn’t come home… But he has to have come home, because who will TK call now that Gabriel is gone? 

His phone is in his hand anyway before he’s managed to disentangle himself from the bedsheets, but it’s proved unnecessary a second later. The bedroom door slides open and Carlos appears on the other side, smiling despite the exhaustion lying heavy across his features. 

“Hey, I thought I heard you,” he says, coming to sit on the bed next to TK. He puts a hand on TK’s knee, his thumb rubbing gently across the skin. “You look upset, what’s going on?”

TK waits before answering. It’s a difficult question to answer these days; he can’t let Carlos know what’s really wrong because that… Well, that’s an argument he doesn’t want to have just yet. 

“Nothing,” he decides. “Just, weird dreams, you know. What time did you get in last night?”

Carlos’s expression shutters and he pulls his hand back, ostensibly to look at his watch. “Uhh, no idea. I stopped for something to eat on the way, so.”

“Good.”

The silence that falls between them is tense, awkward in a way it so rarely is between them. TK doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know when it broke in the first place. It was gradual, cracks forming with every missed dinner and late night. Sometimes it feels like the only thing connecting them is that light by the window, left on as a sign that there is someone to come home to. 

Carlos sucks in a deep breath and TK turns to him, already knowing what he’ll say. 

“I was just about to head out, wanted to see you before I left. You should go back to sleep.” He pats TK’s knee again and makes to stand, but TK snatches his hand before he can fully pull away. 

“I’m awake now,” he tries, pouring as much love as he can into the words. “Maybe I can drive you to work, we can pick up some breakfast on the way? I’ll pick you up when you finish.”

Carlos smiles, but it’s small and regretful. “I already ate, and I don’t want to bother you on your day off.”

“It’s not–”

“Besides, I might stay late again,” Carlos interrupts. “I’m not sure, but I have to keep working on this, TK. I can’t– I couldn’t forgive myself if I stopped.”

TK nods. “I understand.”

And he does. He does. Still. His heart sinks as he lets go of Carlos, allowing him to stand up and leave.

“I’ll leave a light on for you,” he calls out as Carlos reaches the door. “I love you.”

Carlos turns back once, smiles. “Love you.”

Then he’s gone, and TK is alone again.

[thebadjoe]

BAD JOE'S DRDT CH.2 CRIME SOLVING THEORY FINALE

Hello! It's me again, the pretend-detective-that-will-prove-once-and-for-all-that-my-solution-is-the-closest-to-the-truth.

Oooo boy, we're getting very close to the end with chapter 2, eh? Man... episode 14... that was quite the episode!

I got a lot to talk about, so I'll try not to waste too much time this time around. And of course, this is MAJOR SPOILERS WARNING OF DANGANRONPA DESPAIR TIME CHAPTER 2.

Let's talk!

As you can see in the title, this is pretty much the last time I'll be talking about my theory for good. The reason as to why should be obvious. We're getting really close to the end of the chapter as well as getting close to having the truth revealed by the series itself.

So in other words, this is my very last attempt at solving the murder mystery. So since this is most likely my last time (until there's another murder mystery I want to solve), I better go out with a bang, right? :D

For those who read part 5, it's mostly similar as part 5, but I added a few more things to support my theory. The main difference will be things that I really have to fix.

Anyways... this latest episode revealed a lot of things. A lot of these things are affected by my theory too. I will split those in three categories : The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

The Good

Then MonoTV explains that broken and missing things take longer to replace and...

So there you have it ladies and gentlemen. It is now confirmed 100% that the tape was truly missing since the murder attempt. We could even say that because of this on top of how the narrative is going with this episode, there is no other form of grippy tape inside this killing aside from the one that came from the pull up bar.

Phew! I'm so glad it's finally cleared up, even though it should've been so obvious! (Well, the clue of when the tape was missing was subtle, but you get what I mean, right?)

It was honestly blowing my mind when people were claiming crazy things about the tape... such as "Well, it's a design error by the dev! There's supposed to be a tape there, they just forgot about it!"

So, I'm actually glad and happy that I was absolutely right on that matter, especially since I was the first person who vocally pointed out the missing tape ever since... episode 9, I believe?

It's possible that there were a few people who noticed it before me or around the same time as me, but I don't recall seeing anyone else posting about it. Nonetheless, for those like me who discovered the moment of the missing tape a long time ago? Honestly, kudos to y'all! Amazing job!

Another thing that's also considered good for me is something regarding the attempted murder that I deduced correctly.

"Ace had woken up and was struggling"

I deduced that at some point during the attempted murder, Ace woke up. The reason why I firmly believed that was the case is because of this picture!

If you take a closer look, you can see that there's blood on Ace's fingers. Since those are not finger injuries nor would Nico have a reason to stain Ace's fingers with blood, then the only logical conclusions would be that he got blood on his fingers because he touched his neck wounds, therefore, he woke up at some point during the murder attempt.

Another W for me, let's go! Hurray! Speaking of W... another good thing for my theory happened. In regards to Eden being innocent because the BDA triggered when Teruko, Eden and Whit saw the body at the same time.

YES! FUCKIN YES!!! THANK YOU DAVID! THANK YOU FOR SAYING THOSE WORDS THAT I WANTED TO HEAR SO BAD! I LOVE YOU, BUT ONLY AS LONG DISTANCE FRIENDS!

You guys have no idea how much it heavily supports my theory thanks to what he just said. It was also something that I deduced for a very long time too! There's of course a lot to talk about on this matter, which I will discuss another time.

But for now, let me savor what I consider to be the biggest W of my crime solving theory of this murder case. Things are looking really good for me.

But of course, I have other problems that crossed my way in exchange, so let me show you what I mean.

The Bad

Let's start with the elephant in the room. Nico is sole person responsible for the attempted murder of Ace.

Before I forget, here's my theory post as reference so that you can have a fair idea of what's been debunked.

Anyways, this truth shatters a good chunk of my theory post, especially regarding the attempted murder itself. Because... according to my theory, I thought that the person responsible for the attempted murder was the same culprit as whoever killed Arei. Thinking it was Eden who did the attempted murder on Ace.

But this theory of mine on that matter has sadly been completely denied. Eden did not attempt murder on Ace, that much is a fact that I can't ignore.

But that's not all. It's practically confirmed that the wire found in the gym was indeed Hu's custom weapon.

This shut downs my idea that Eden must've gathered some kind of wire inside a grandfather clock.

I'm well aware that I was kinda pushing it with this idea (even though there were a conversation supporting this idea), but mannnnn.... IMAGINE HOW FRIGGIN SICK IT WOULD'VE BEEN IF THAT WAS ACTUALLY WHAT HAPPENED?! IT WOULD'VE BEEN SUCH A 1000 IQ MOVE ON MY END!!!

Haha! Sorry! I got the hype get the best of me there! I mean, to be fair... I was under the assumption that Eden's must've done the deed and that she must've gathered that wire some other way. You can't fault me for being this creative!

But at the very least, from this narrative, we can deduce that the DRDT Dev may not try to pull a move where we need to imagine something that could've existed somewhere, they probably never intend to make us go for something far-fetched unless there's enough clues to suggest it. I think that will be something very important to remember whenever we get to watch chapter 3 in a future time.

Moving on!

Nico is the person responsible for stealing the turpentine.

This may not seem much at first, but it's actually very bad for my theory. Reason why is that to have my Eden!Culprit theory work, I need a way for Eden to subdue Arei in some shape or form.

The best way to do it would be by knocking her out with the turpentine, but unfortunately for me, Eden initially didn't have access to the turpentine. Nico did. This means that I lost my prime way for Eden to subdue Arei.

Eden obviously can't overpower Arei for obvious reasons... on top of having no signs of struggle on Eden and Arei's body like bruises and such.

So because of it, I need to figure out a way for Eden to be able subdue Arei without having to steal the turpentine as it was Nico who stole it initially. I'll discuss more about it later.

There is also another problem with my theory, not something the episode directly showed, but it's still very noteworthy. Since Eden is not the culprit behind the attempted murder of Ace, my plan of having Arei locked up and hidden in the relaxation room no longer works anymore. Therefore, I currently don't have a way to explain the purpose of the ball of clothes since my whole murder attempt theory is crushed.

So these are the bads, one of them being a lot more problematic than the others. Anyways, I don't even think that's the worst of it all. The worst comes with...

The Ugly

"It's you two, isn't it?"

I'm happy that we finally got Teruko to actually accuse someone... but NOT LIKE THIS!!!

God friggin dammit!

I get it though. I understand why the creator did that. It gives a lot more suspense and a much better reveal at the end of it all, but aaaaggghhh! This is literally the worst case scenario!

Instead of having people try to figure out why this one person is the culprit and how they did it, we now have the community practically split in two to decide which one between Ace or Eden is the culprit of the murder case.

Ugh.... what a pain in the ass! I can't believe you've done this, DRDT dev! Not giving us the final answer until the very end. I will admit though... that was very unexpected and a very cool twist. That makes it much different from what we're used to see in the dangans and fangans! So yeah... well played, dev! But you should know by now... you're not fooling me with this. I know very well what the heck happened behind this murder case! I remain undaunted.

So are you saying that...

Yes... I still believe that Eden is the culprit behind the murder case of Arei. Ace has nothing to do with the murder of Arei and there's absolutely no one else but these two suspects who could've possibly commited murder.

I'm sorry to say this to the people who believe that a third party is responsible for the murder, but that's just impossible. Only these two could've taken the tape and they had absolutely no reason to give it to someone else. Nor did they get it stolen.

Otherwise, why would they not reveal it at all? It wouldn't make sense no matter how you put it. Not only that, but it would be so unsatisfying of a plot twist especially considering that with all the clues we've been given so far, only the people in the gym at a specific time could've taken it, which still comes down to Ace and Eden.

It's also practically confirmed that there's no other source of grippy tape. I understand that you guys are trying to do this because there's a lot of issues with solving the case if eitheir Ace or Eden is the culprit, but instead of going for an unrealistic scenario of who else could've done it, you guys need to figure out how eitheir of these two suspects managed to pull it off despite these problems!

And that's exactly why I'm still dead set on accusing Eden. Because despite all these problems I've encountered since the beginning of it all, I figured out a lot of ways to solve these issues and it's going to be the same thing here. These new problems I have encountered... I will solve them... all of them!

Therefore, being open-minded is crucial in solving this murder case, a complex one at that!

Alright, with these news out of the way, it's finally time for me to solve this murder case! Although, unlike the giant recap that I did on part 5, I'm not going to do that. I will begin by discussing with you all the biggest mystery of this entire murder case.

The Biggest Mystery?!

What are you talking about? Are you referring to the fishes? The broken lights? The ball of clothes? Their murder motive?

Nope! There is something that's been brought up very few times at the very beginning of the trial and never again... even though there's something seriously strange about it.

(I'm sure there's other moments where this was brought up, but I couldn't find them.)

But yeah... there are two suspiciously strange things about this (that people simply brushed it off as nothing wrong happened) and I seriously think we need to look into this.

During lunchtime of the day before the BDA, Arei was seen in the cafeteria, but didn't utter a single word.

Aside from the "conversation between Arei and David in the relaxation room", no one saw Arei from lunchtime up until the BDA.

Let's face it... Arei, who's usually a loudmouth, didn't say a single thing at lunch? That's just incredibly weird! It doesn't make sense! You guys know very well that she would, at the very least, say something mean or troll someone at least slightly.

But even weirder than that is the fact that no one else saw her since lunchtime! There is absolutely no way that Arei would've spent the rest of the day eitheir hiding herself in her dorm or just simply avoiding contact on anyone. That is just so out of character!

Well... maybe Arei was deeply concerned by David's actual secret and was being secluded up until it was the right time to visit David. I mean, David and Ace clearly saw her that evening, so it's fine, right?

Yeah, I don't think so. Let's say she was deeply concerned by David's secret since lunch, why didn't she try to contact David much sooner than that? Doesn't quite make sense now, doesn't it?

Oh! I know! She was spending time with Eden because they're friends now, right?

I'm sorry, but that's not gonna work eitheir. Let's say Eden was the culprit in that scenario... why would Eden lie about not seeing her since lunch?

Well... suspicions would've been thrown at her, that's why.

And why would that be the case? Remember that during that day, Eden spent time with Hu from the evening up until the night time. And since we're under the assumption that the murder occured in the morning of day 4 (the day of the BDA) and that she spent time with Hu as said earlier, her supposed time spent with Arei in the afternoon would be irrelevant to the murder case!

Besides, wouldn't someone at least have noticed that the two of them were spending time together in the afternoon?

And even if we were to presume that Ace is the killer there, it's the exact same thing! Eden would have absolutely no reason to lie about spending time with Arei if that were the case.

Well, maybe Ace intimidated Arei and stayed quiet this whole time because of it!

...really? We all know very well that there's no way Ace would be able to intimidate Arei, of all people!

Then maybe-

I'll stop you there! Let's face it, there's no normal reasons to explain why Arei didn't talk at lunch nor why she was missing for a considerable amount of time. Besides, if it was something irrevelant or completly mundane about what was happening with Arei, what would be the point of doing all of that? Why make it seem like it was a mystery if "nothing special" happened.

I'm sorry, but it just simply doesn't make sense. Especially if the fact that she was missing was brought up multiple times. There is no way that this is unimportant, no matter how you look at it!

This is also one of the reasons why I firmly believe that Ace is not the culprit. It is impossible to give a reasonable answer to this mystery if you go for the Ace!Culprit route.

It's unsolvable! You can't solve it even with Eden as the culprit!

No! That's wrong!

For those who read part 5, I'm sure you know already what the answer to that is. As for everyone else, there is a very interesting and logical way to solve this mystery.

But before I reveal it, let me first bring back a topic from earlier that I wanted to talk about.

David Chiem...

Okay... so what? He's clearly lying about it, as stated by Nico and J!

And why would you assume that he's lying? Is it because he's a lying and manipulative asshole? Is it because you don't believe in anything he says? Is it because you don't understand him? Well... to be fair... he's rather complex and a bit hard to understand his gameplan, however...

Doesn't that statement feel too important to simply disregard it? I'm not just saying this because his quote is in gold and bolded text, but also because of the timing and what he said earlier.

Also... shortly after that, after he asked Teruko, Whit and Eden if they saw the body at the same time and that Teruko answered with "What are you getting at?", here's how he behaves...

Isn't it peculiar? Like... doesn't it feel like there's a sense of emergency behind his defense and reaction? It's almost like... he's been waiting for the right moment to reveal that piece of information. Whether he wants to help or just want to make Teruko despair for the sake of exposing Eden as the culprit, it doesn't matter. He wanted to reveal that information.

His statement that he saw the body first is clearly wrong because he couldn't have seen the body in the morning, he had an alibi at 7:30 AM and it's physically impossible for David to instantly search the playground, find the body, do nothing and go back without being seen by eitheir Teruko, Whit or Eden.

Well, of course, he's lying about seeing the body in the morning. It's literally impossible.

Huh? But why are you insisting that-

David is the first person to find the body, but he discovered it at an earlier time. It doesn't make sense for anyone else to have found the body first. Otherwise, they wouldn't have hidden this piece of information at all, there's no reason to. But if we're talking about David however... it's whole different story. I also have plenty ways to support the idea that he found the body much earlier.

This is after Ace tells the group what he witnessed and after David gets his secret exposed and decides to reveal himself.

Ace claimed that he witnessed David and Arei having a conversation about David's secret during the evening, the day after the attempted murder.

David claims that he's a lying piece of shit and an unreliable witness.

Ace couldn't possibly have lied about the secret he heard from the conversation since that was indeed David's secret. So what else could David be referring to when he claimed that Ace is lying?

Lying about where he heard the conversation wouldn't make sense eitheir, it wouldn't really change much. And we already know for a fact that David visited the relaxation room that day.

Therefore, by process of elimination, the logical deduction would be that Ace lied about when he heard that conversation. Also, doesn't that weirdly coincide with the reveal that he found the body first?

So if you match his body discovery information with the logical possibility that Ace lied about when he heard the conversation with also David's confession that he did indeed meet with Arei that evening without revealing what the conversation was about, we get this amazing solution : David didn't have a conversation with Arei in the evening of the day 3. He had a conversation with her in the evening of day 2 instead, the day of the attempted murder on Ace. David found Arei's corpse in the relaxation room in the evening of day 3.

I know I had many people who used to believe that this can't be true and that David is lying about his claim that Ace's a liar and all that... but quite frankly... can you still make that claim after watching episode 13 AND 14?

In episode 13, we learn from David's memory flashback that there was more to David and Arei's conversation than what Ace let on, which already gives a sign that Ace is hiding something.

And in episode 14, there's of course the reveal that David was the first person to find the body. Let's be real here everyone. I seriously doubt that this is a mere coincidence after all this time.

Anyways, now that I've explained my point regarding David, it is time to connect the dots!

Connecting the dots...

Going back to the biggest mystery...

As I said before, I stated that there's a way to solve this mystery with Eden as the culprit. There's also a very good reason why I brought up the idea that David must've found the body at a much earlier time.

Let's think back on the mysteries regarding Arei.

She did not talk at lunch and she was never seen again since then.

We've already established that it wouldn't make sense for her to stay silent and not be seen again for a long period of time. So what would be the most logical way to explain that discrepancy?

Something wrong happened to Arei that day. If you think back on my idea regarding David, he found Arei's body in the evening of day 3. Then, if you combine that with the fact that Arei was mysteriously missing since lunchtime, we can then deduce that Arei was actually dead for quite some time. It would make sense to deduce that Arei must've been dead during the whole time she was missing.

But Ace witnessed the conversation betwee-

Nope! Remember, I made the deduction that Ace lied about when he witnessed the conversation. He most likely witnessed the conversation happening in the evening of day 2. Therefore, Arei was alive during the evening of day 2.

(FYI, by day 2, I mean the day of the attempted murder while day 3 refers to the day after the attempted murder. Day 4 is the day of the BDA)

Okay, but what does that have to do with Eden being the only culprit that can explain the mystery behind it all?

Don't worry, I'm getting there.

So with the idea that Arei was already at least dead after lunch, it changes a lot of things, but it still doesn't answer the other oddity regarding Arei... Why was she being silent during lunch time?

Before I propose the crazy (and repeated) idea, let me share a fact with you all. During lunch time, Eden was nowhere to be seen in the cafeteria.

Combine everything I've shown you and then we get this beautiful conclusion : Arei was silent during lunch time because that was not Arei. It was Eden disguised as Arei. Arei was already dead during lunch time.

I'm sure you have a lot of questions or things to object to this, but let me first state that it would perfectly explain a lot of things. Not only would it solve perfectly that big mystery I've just shown, but it would also explain why David claimed that he was the first person to find the body. It would also explain this little goofy event in the morning of day 3.

To give a small recap, Teruko wakes up at 8:00 AM, but still feels sleepy. So she's like "5 more minutes."

Then, we get a black screen saying "4 hours later", so she ends up waking up at around noon instead. Funny 5 more minutes turns into oversleeping for hours instead joke, that one! (Let's face it, it's relatable)

Anyways, this little scene right there could be an extremely subtle way to indicate that Arei actually died in the morning of day 3 and they made us unable to witness her death thanks to Teruko oversleeping. It also helps with camouflaging the possibility that Eden was taking the time to set up her disguise trick.

But if you have issues with the disguise trick, I've already explained it many times in part 5 with clues and hints found throughout the series on top of reminding everyone that this is a work of fiction, so as long as there's plenty evidence to suggest it, then it can be possible.

So for that to work, Eden needed to kill Arei in the morning of day 3. So first, she would need to sneakily knock her out with turpentine as it is the only way to-

HAH! YOU IDIOT! IT CAN'T WORK!! IT WAS NICO WHO HAD THE TURPENTINE! HOW COULD EDEN POSSIBLY GET HER HANDS ON IT?! YOUR THEORY STINKS!

Ah, right... the turpentine! Nico stole it from Rose...

That's no problem! Eden got her hands on the turpentine anyways!

WHAT?!?!

Turpentine, where are you?!

You're not possibly suggesting that there was a second turpentine, RIGHT?!?!

Of course not! I'm not that crazy! Come on now! Do you really think I'd make such a claim even though I made the claim that there doesn't exist any other source of grippy tape aside from what we've seen thus far? The same applies with the turpentine.

It is true that the fact that Nico had their hands on the turpentine first is truly troublesome... but then I learned some more facts about the case and realised that there is indeed a way for Eden to get her hands on the turpentine.

That's impossible! Nico had their hands on it!

Nico may have gotten their hands on the turpentine first, but did they actually keep it forever?

Think about it. What else do we know about the attempted murder that we know is true and confirmed by Nico themselves? Nico stole Hu's custom weapon : the wires.

And what was the reason for stealing the wires? To pin the murder on Hu. They were trying to get away with murder, after all.

Now, if we follow that logic, there is also another way to further pin the blame on Hu. Nico could've dropped the turpentine in the dress room, close by Hu's old uniform. It's also possible that they used some of Hu's clothes to knock Ace unconscious with the turpentine.

That way, if the crime actually succeeded, then there would be much more than Hu's wires to pin her as the culprit. But alas, as we all know, Nico's murder attempt failed. So whatever happened to the turpentine in that scenario?

Nico most likely didn't run back to the dress room to grab it back, that's for sure. Which means that in that scenario, from the time Nico knocked Ace unconscious up until Teruko runs into Eden in the dressing room, Eden had an opportunity to grab the turpentine that Nico might've purposefully dropped in that room.

But how could she possibly know that there was turpentine in here?

That's the thing. I don't think she knew that she'd find the turpentine here... well... unless she saw Nico knocking Ace out and has been quietly sneaking since then.

Why would she even bother going there this late at night to somehow stumble on the turpentine if she didn't know that she'd find it here to begin with? That makes no sense.

You're right, it wouldn't make sense. If anything, that was simply an incredible coincidence that she managed to find turpentine, something that she would clearly need to succeed in her murder plan.

I don't get it! If finding the turpentine was mere coincidence, then what was the point of Eden visiting the dress room this late at night?

Initially, before episode 14 was released, I thought for sure that she was there because she orchestrated both crimes on top of locking Arei inside the relaxation room during nighttime. However, both of these ideas are denied.

So by eliminating the impossible, only one truth remains : Eden needed to place Hu's and Teruko's old clothes inside the relaxation room before 10 pm so that they can get covered in sticky starch next morning.

It is a known fact that the "ball of clothes" is covered in starch. We also know that the only source of information we have that could potentially have a source of starch is from the enriched formula of the water misting of that plants for the relaxation room. We also know for a fact that Eden was indeed in the dressing room past 10 pm on day 2.

I highly doubt that she went there late at night only for the sake of being nice and retrieving Teruko's spare uniforms. Therefore, the only way to explain her suspicious presence in that room is if we were to believe that she's the person responsible for the "ball of clothes".

There is no other logical or reasonable way to explain it. This is the only conclusion I could arrive at. Therefore, it has to be the truth!

Alright then... what was Eden trying to do with these starched clothes then? What was her plan?

At the time I'm currently typing this... I do not know.

WHHHHHAAAT?! YOU DON'T KNOW?!?!

That's right... I don't know yet. I have a few ideas, but I don't like them just yet. So by the time I keep working on this post, I'll figure out a proper solution, I promise.

What are you saying?! Are you seriously trying to solve this problem as you are writing your theory post?!

...That's right... I'm still working on it as I'm typing this. But pay no mind to it, the solution will come to me eventually, I'm pretty sure!

...You are out of your mind, you know that?

Yeah... I know. For now, let's just say that having the clothes in that room so that they get starched was very essential in her plan for unknown reasons. At the very least, I found a reasonable way to explain how she get her hands on the turpentine.

For that matter, I know there were people asking me why Eden would even bother grabbing the tape. The answer is fairly simple. It was very convenient for her to get her hands on the tape as it would be necessary in her murder scheme.

In fact, she probably wanted to get her hands on the tape earlier than that, but Nico was already occupying the gym. She must've heard the sounds of Nico setting up something inside the gym (since the walls aren't soundproof) and must've waited inside the dressing room for some time... until the gym was clear. But of course, instead of that, Teruko runs into Eden.

So with that, I believe that I explained every mysteries regarding the attempted murder. Eden was indeed on the second floor on the night of day 2 for a suspiciously specific reason that I've already explained.

So... while I'm trying to figure out the most logical purpose of this ball of clothes, I'd like to give more points that further supports the idea that Eden is indeed the culprit.

Take that, Eden!

Let's start with one of my favorite observations in episode 14.

Ah... that scene was very touching, wasn't it? For a moment there, I almost believed Eden... up until someone in the youtube comments pointed out something really interesting about this scene. Doesn't this remind you of something? ....no? Let me help you out!

Hmm? What does that have to do with anything?

A lot of things, actually. Like... the pictures I've shown you from episode 3, Eden claims that relationships aren't transactional, that she didn't do something good so that Teruko would return the favor. Eden also claims that she wants her to be her friend, but not because Teruko feels obligated to.

Then, in episode 14, Eden asks Teruko to help her, because friends help each other. She also says that Teruko is her friend.

I know most of you will say that Eden was being desperate and in big need of help, maybe there is a tiny bit of truth to it. However, I just find it rather strange because as far as I'm aware, from the beginning of chapter 2 up until the trial, Teruko never showed any signs of wanting to be friends with Eden. So why would she now claim that Teruko's her friend and then ask for help when initially, Eden didn't do something good simply just so that Teruko would do something good in return?

In a subtle way, they're kinda like opposites to each other, the scene between episode 3 and episode 14, I mean.

To further prove my point, I'd also like to point out that during these two scenes, they both played the exact same background music. Coincidence? I think not!

Another point I'd like to talk about is something I've already brought up in the past, but it's still very important to remember it...

This happened in the morning of day 4, before the BDA was triggered. She said this a little bit after Whit made a silly comment about Arei hanging around the playground.

You could brush it off as simply Eden being not ready to seeing the corpse of Arei in here, since all the other rooms were explored on that floor, but of course, I don't believe that one bit.

Whit's comment made Eden panic considerably because for a few seconds there, she really thought that her murder plan was about to be ruined because she thought that Whit was the first person to find the body of Arei.

If Whit was the first person to find the body, then the BDA wouldn't trigger which would be dangerous for Eden. As I stated before, someone else discovered the body first and it was David Chiem.

Also, that reminds me. Timing wise, it was impossible for Eden to bring the fishes from relax room to the playground. It was also impossible for Eden to hang the body by the swing set, she's most likely too weak for that. Meaning that Eden never brought those fishes nor did she hang her by the playground. That was never in her plan to do that. She hid the body behind the curtains of the relaxation room.

Therefore, the only person who could've transported the fishes as well as hanging Arei's corpse is the first person who found the body. David is responsible for those two actions during the evening of day 3. He did it for his own selfish reasons, of course!

But wait... if David hung the body during the evening of day 3, how do you explain the body swinging during the morning of day 4?

Ah, that! It's something I've already brought up in part 6, but I'll explain it a little.

There was a reason why she put so much efforts into disguising the time of death by putting on a disguise and building a solid fake alibi from 7pm to 10pm. Eden's main goal was to have the BDA triggered during the evening of day 3, not the morning of day 4. She was hoping that someone would run into Arei's corpse that evening, which that person would go gather help to trigger the BDA.

If that actually went according to plan, Eden's alibi would've been perfect. !!! Come to think of it... the letter would make a lot more sense with this idea in mind.

Since she had nothing to do with the fishes, the initial plan was to bait the people into thinking that eitheir Arturo or someone who may have overheard the conversation would be the one who tried to lure Arei to the playground.

Except that compared to what we've seen in part 1 of chapter 2, the letter was actually supposed to properly display 7:30 PM rather than just 7:30. It was part of her grand scheme to further solidify her alibi.

(There's a missing corner, as you can see, which is very convenient to where PM could be written)

Wait, hold on... if that was the case, then Arei wouldn't be having a meeting in the playground in the morning, but rather the evening! That doesn't work! You said it yourself that she was murdered in the morning of day 3!

Hah! That's not a problem! Eden didn't need to lure Arei with a letter. She simply needed to call her out vocally. Hell, she didn't even have to be calling her out in the morning of day 3 eitheir.

She could've knocked to Arei's door right after the exchange between Ace, Levi, Teruko and herself after the attempted murder. It could be something as simple as : "Um... Arei? There's something really important I need to tell you, but I don't wanna say it here because the others might hear it since the dorms are so close to each other. Besides, it's getting really late. Can we meet up in the playground early in the morning?"

But of course, since the BDA didn't trigger in the evening of day 3, there were a few change of plans. She needed to go back to the second floor in the morning of day 4 to find out what's going on.

While she's heading there that morning, she figured that she should bring back Arei's monopad. Arei's monopad was essential in pulling off the disguise trick as she needed to gain access to her dorm to wear her spare uniform. Initially, Eden arrived to the second floor possibly a little bit before 8:00 AM, thinking that the corpse would still be hidden inside the relaxation room.

But it turns out that Arei's body was actually hanging by the swingset, in the playground. And there's fishes for some reason? (Just saying this based on the culprit's perspective)

Eden figured that it would be way too risky to mess with the crime scene even more than what she was originally going to do.

And what was she doing here in the morning of day 4?

It's simple! Eden put the Arei's monopad back inside the victim's pockets and she retrieved the letter and tore the bottom right corner of it, removing the PM on that letter. She then tore the rest of the letter and threw it in the trash bin. It's also possible that the reason why she tore the rest of the letter is to disguise the fact that the killer purposefully removed a corner of the letter.

Wouldn't it be more beneficial for Eden to not tear up the pm part since she had an airtight alibi at the time?

Not really, no. Since everyone else would be discovering the corpse at around 8 am in the morning rather than last evening as intended, there's no telling how the group would actually attempt to solve the trial.

It's possible that if the PM part was still there, they might believe that the time might be fake, especially since the body would be found next morning. In fact, if they presume that the murder happened in the morning of day 4, they would suspect anyone who had an alibi last evening because of that part of the letter. That's also practically what happened earlier in episode 12.

Levi : Is it possible that the killer tried to confuse us all on the time of the murder to create a false alibi? In that case, we should be suspicious of the people who do have an alibi in the evening but not in the morning?

Teruko : That's another assumption that would lead us astray. Forget that thought.

Levi : Why?

Teruko : We're only guessing that the killer created a false alibi to their benefit. But it's still entirely possible that it was just coincidence that we mistook the murder as taking place at a different time. The killer might not have cared as much as we do. [...]

Charles : Are you not simply dismissing the idea that the killer intentionally falsified the time of the murder?

Teruko : I'm not dismissing it. But it's far more dangerous to dramatically narrow down our suspect pool based on speculative evidence, especially when we barely understand the murder at this moment in time. In other words, we can't consider Levi's idea as evidence unless we have proof.

And there you have it. If the PM part remained on that letter and they realised that the murder could've happened in the morning of day 4, then that whole letter would've been proof enough that the killer purposefully faked the time of the murder, even if the murder didn't happen in the morning of day 4.

Anyways, if touching Arei's pockets wasn't enough to keep the body swinging, it's also possible that Eden accidently ran into the hanging body on her way in or out because she was still in a little bit of a hurry as she didn't want anyone to catch her in the act.

Hmmm... interesting... how very interesting...

What now?

Well, the idea (that I recently came up with) that the letter always displayed "PM" and that she tore up that part of the letter because her plan didn't fully work as intended... it just gave me another amazing idea.

People have been wondering for quite some time what could be the decisive evidence to pinpoint that someone is truly the blackened... I think I finally figured out what the evidence is.

Well, out with it already! Show us what will prove once and for all that Eden is the culprit!

Gladly! I used to think for a long time that the roll of grippy tape would be the ever so decisive evidence for it, since it was practically a smoking gun type of evidence. But alas... you saw what happened in episode 14, so...

HERE'S THE DECISIVE EVIDENCE : THE TORN UP CORNER OF THE LETTER CONTAINING "PM"

Think about it. We know for a fact that Arei's body was swinging in the morning of day 4 and according to my theory, only Eden could be the logical explanation behind this event happening.

Therefore, Eden most likely visited the second floor in the morning of day 4. Since her original plan was to have the BDA trigger in the evening of day 3 but it failed, she needed to remove the part of the letter that mentioned "PM".

Now, here's the fun part : what could Eden possibly have done with it afterwards? She couldn't really dispose it in the trash bin, that's where the rest of the letter was. Eden still needed that letter to build up her narrative to make her seem the least suspicious.

She couldn't hide it anywhere else on the second floor. She didn't want to risk having someone stumbling upon a piece of paper that just happens to perfectly match the rest of the letter.

She couldn't really dispose of it anywhere on the first floor eitheir. While it might've been a logical way to get rid of that evidence, it would've been incredibly risky. By the time Eden did her finishing touches on the second floor, it should've been 8:00 AM by then, if not really close to it.

Every participant was supposed to meet up in the movie screening room for the secrets reveal, Eden couldn't risk doing something slightly suspicious when she should be heading straight for the movie screening room. She couldn't have gotten rid of it during and after the investigation eitheir, there were witnesses close by.

So by process of elimination, there is only one remaining place that Eden could've make the corner of the letter disappear. She hid the torn up corner of the letter in one of her little bags on her belt!!! It's still there as we speak!

How's that for a decisive evidence, eh? :D Take that, Eden Tobisa!

Yeah, yeah, whatever! That's cool and all, but at the end of the day, all of it doesn't really matter if you can't manage to explain what was the point of the starchy ball of clothes! If you can't explain it, then your theory just crumbles!

...heh! :D

Y-you can't be serious... there's no way you managed to-

It took me roughly a day of thinking about it, but you BETCHA that I managed to solve the issue with the ball of clothes! I have a very good idea on what Eden might've done with this piece of evidence during the murder of Arei.

The sticky situation of the ball of clothes

As I mentioned before, I used to think that the clothes were used as a way to protect Arei from the water misting if Eden were to lock her up inside the relax room. But of course, that no longer works because of the actual truth behind the murder attempt.

Yet, Eden clearly placed those clothes for a night inside the relaxation room, so surely it must've been really important to do that, right?

The answer to that is YES. It was a very necessary step in the murder scheme. In fact, I'm willing to bet that without it, her plan wouldn't have worked.

It's just some starchy clothes. Why would it be that important?

Well, as we already know, there's no way Eden could pull off the murder mechanism as shown in episode 13 (aka the drop hanging murder idea) as it would require a good amount of strength that she doesn't seem to have.

So, for her be able to murder Arei, she would instead need to use a murder mechanism that doesn't require a lot of strength. And not too long ago, I finally realised that using the starchy clothes would be incredibly helpful in pulling off that kind of murder without much troubles. Let me elaborate.

Do you guys remember my murder mechanism in part 5? If not, that's alright, let me give you all a reminder.

(Yeah, I recently added those pink lines as compared to my previous picture, just bear with me.)

Here's the order of how that murder went according to my theory

(The pink line is the longer rope and the green line is the shorter rope)

While waiting for the body to be available, she threw the longer rope above the rafters by using the roll of tape as anchor.

She then uses one end of the long rope by tying it to the filled water jugs, by the handles.

She tapes up the bars of the carousel and then keeps some remaining tape for later.

She then ties up the other end of the long rope to the carousel

She drags the victim's body out of the relax room and brings it close to the seesaw.

She places the victim's arms through the gap between the pillars of the seesaw and the tapes her wrists together.

She ties one end of the shorter rope to the victim's neck while placing the other end of that rope very close to the carousel.

She then spins the carousel on one side, let's say counterclock wise. By spinning it, the long rope would get pulled which would pull the water jugs upwards.

She keeps spinning up until the water jugs are high enough. Once it's high enough, she keeps the carousel from moving.

She ties the end of the shorter rope (the one that was close to her already) to the bars of the carousel.

She then spins the carousel clockwise, making the water jugs fall at a rapid while the shorter rope is quickly getting pulled.

The shorter rope keeps getting quickly pull up until it can no longer pull... up until it reaches the victim's neck, which would serve as a brute stopper.

SNAP! Her neck breaks and the handles of the water jugs also break from the sudden stop.

By using this method, it explains the purpose of the taped wrists as well as the scuffed marks on the ground, which happened to be in proximity of the victim's legs. Because of the sudden pull of the neck, the rest of the body would follow, the legs would be what would move the most since it's not restrained, thus creating those marks.

By keeping her arms locked up by the seesaw, it ensures that her whole body wouldn't follow along of the rope pull, which would instead result in a rather funny ragdoll moment, which would probably not kill the victim if her arms weren't restrained.

It sounded really good on paper. Like I seriously thought that I finally figured it out, I thought that it made so much sense. Unfortunately... there are some issues with it.

Ha ha! Your method is flawed! I'm looking forward to these issues!

...very well. For starters, this might cause bruises on Arei's body with this murder method, especially around the arms and shoulders. The only thing that was really restrained were her wrists, so anything else would be violently moving.

But the reason why it could bruise the arms and shoulders especially is because her head and the rope are in the way of her arms. Her head could potentially hit her shoulders and arms... or it could be the other way around too. This becomes a discrepancy since we know for a fact that apart from her broken neck, there is nothing else noticeable about her body.

Next up, the distance between the scuffed marks and the seesaw is fairly long... most likely longer than Arei's height as well. I was aware of this issue in the past, but I simply brushed it off as "it works because it's a work of fiction."

But the more I look into it, the more I feel like it would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to prove that the marks were caused by the movements of the legs. We also have to keep in mind that rest of the body would surely move, so why would nothing above her legs leave no scuffed marks? That doesn't quite make sense. If the marks were way closer to the seesaw, it'd be a whole different story, but alas... that's not what happened.

And finally, it is very doubtful that the legs' movements from the killing blow would be causing all these marks we've seen back in episode 8.

As we can see from this picture, there's a lot of traces on the left side, a faint trace in the middle and a few traces on the right side. I don't think there's a valid reason I can come up that would explain why one leg would be leaving more marks than the other. On top of that, it wouldn't explain why there's a faint mark in the middle and gaps between the others.

Unless I were to presume that her legs did a few skips somehow, but I honestly think that's a stretch at this point. But that's not all, from the way the victim's body would be positioned according to my theory, it would actually be physically impossible for her legs to leave marks in such manner.

As you can see in the picture, the dragging of those marks are going up and down rather than left and right. If we follow the logic of how the victim's body would be positioned according to me, then the legs should be making those marks sideways, not what we're currently seeing.

Dang, those are pretty big flaws. Are you sure that your murder method is correct?

I used to think it was back then, but not anymore. At least very least, the idea of the pulley mechanism sounds right while the body setup and positioning is entirely wrong.

But honestly, my idea mainly didn't work because I forgot to factor in a really important element to this equation : the friction! That's right! To make sure my murder method works, I need to find some way to add friction so that the body wouldn't move as much. And how do you make that happen? With the help of starched clothes, of course!

Huh?! What do you mean by that?

This line is very important because we also know for a fact that the turf in the playground uses the same exact materials as the one in the relaxation room. Meaning that a wet turf in the playground would get sticky too.

I can't believe I let this go unnoticed after such a long time, but the stickiness of both the wet turf and the starched clothes played a major role in all of this.

Here's what I believe the culprit did with the starched clothes : Eden placed the starched clothes under Arei's body and above the turf. Basically, the starched clothes in that scenario would serve as a double sided velcro of sorts.

Would the victim's body really stick to the clothes?

Hard to say, but based on my deductions, it has to, right? We don't quite know how sticky it is, but it must've been sticky enough so that it would add friction, at the very least. I don't think it'd make her completly restrained, but rather her movements would be drastically reduced, I'd imagine.

But hold on! Wouldn't only one side of the clothes have starch on it?

Most likely, yes, but the clothes would probably be wet still. So the double sided velcro idea could still work.

I don't think so! MonoTV clearly stated that at 8:00 AM, the turf in the relax room is completly dry so it's safe to walk on it. If the turf dries up by then, so does the clothes!

Hmm... maybe, maybe not. It's true that the ground would be dry, but it's hard to say that the same would happen with the clothes. But if it is truly how it was intended, then that's no problem! Eden just needed to dip one side of the clothes into the pond and they would be wet again.

Okay, but was there enough clothes to cover the whole body?

Hard to say, probably not, if I'm being honest. But I don't think the culprit intended to lay out these clothes so that it would cover the whole body. No, I think Eden mainly wanted to place the starched clothes under the victim's head and the victim's legs.

The head and legs are pretty much what would be moving the most from sudden violent pull of the short rope attached to the neck, so putting the velcro there would be most effective. They might still move somewhat, but definitly not as much as without the adhesive. In fact, I believe that having the velcro effect under Arei's head would make it even easier to ensure that the rope pull delivers a killing blow.

You forgot something : THE ARMS!!! What about the arms?! Wouldn't they just be flailing around everywhere?!

Oh, that? Well, the wrists were clearly taped up and then-

Then what, her arms are restrained under the seesaw again? You already said that it doesn't work!

Heh, of course not! That's not what the culprit did at all! Arei's body was not placed next to the seesaw for the murder. I've already established previously that there's major problems with it. It wouldn't make sense. Therefore, she must've been placed somewhere else.

There is only one specific place that would perfectly explain the scuffed marks on ground. The area where there's scuffed marks? That's exactly where the victim's body was positioned! Arei died on this specific spot!

W-whaaaaat?!?! That makes no sense! How does that even explain how her arms were restrained from moving anywhere?

Don't worry, I'm getting there! :)

So... when we take into consideration the position of the scuffed marks, there's really nothing close by that can be used to restrain her arms, right? And placing her arms above her head like I did in my year old theory wouldn't quite work eitheir. We'd still have the same issues as what I pointed out already.

So from there, we can deduce that the victim's arms must've been positioned somewhere differently than my previous idea in my older theory. And I believe I found the perfect position to place those arms of hers.

The culprit placed Arei's arms behind her back and then taped her wrists. That way, since her back would be facing the turf, it should keep her arms mostly steady. They might move, but her back should be moving along as well. Her wrists were bound because there was still a risk that her arms would free up from her back since their movements wouldn't be as restrained.

That's ridiculous! There's no way that can be right!

...heh! :D Are you sure about that? Let me give you a reminder of how I briefly described the scuffed marks on the ground. There's a lot of traces on the left side, a faint trace in the middle and a few traces on the right side. If we combine everything I've deduced so far, we get this!

Be mindful that even though I just showed you how the victim's body would be positioned, the body part themselves isn't what fully caused those marks, it was mostly caused by the starched clothes' stickiness below the legs and head.

That would certainly help explain those odd shape and patterns on the ground. As for the wrists area, it could eitheir be caused by her hands or the taped up wrists.

But yeah, as shown in this picture, her head would be moving a bit, but not too much since that's where the culprit needed to make sure remained stable. Her wrists wouldn't be moving too much in this scenario since they would be stuck under her back. As for the legs, even though there would be adhesive below, there would still be a fair amount of movement since her legs have more freedom of movement than her head or wrists.

Just to remind everyone, by movement, I'm referring to the drag caused by the rope making a violent pull on Arei's neck.

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! This is my final solution to this complex, yet incredibly fun murder case! I don't know if you've noticed, but everything I've said in this post, it would match up perfectly with a heck load of clues and information that we've been provided in this fangan.

So with that said, I only have one more thing to say : The only one who could've commited this crime is you, Eden Tobisa, Ultimate Clockmaker!

--------------------------------------------------------

Thank you everyone for reading this till the end! There's probably a few things I unintentionally left out, so I'll try to add up anything missing if that's the case. But otherwise, I think that was most of it. If there's anything you don't understand or feel like there's something that may not work, feel free to ask me anything!

And don't forget : because it's a work of fiction, as long as there's enough provided information, then it can be possible!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Choose Your True Love - Keith Howell (part 3/4)

This is the from the 4th anniversary event.

(Alter)Keith indicates that it’s Alter!Keith pretending to be Keith.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. 

At the last estate we visited, the noble had an herbalist develop highly lethal poisons that he’d illegally sell to other countries.

It was the gravest crime I heard of today.

(And yet…)

Noble: I don’t know what you’re talking about! Your evidence was arranged to slander me.

(Alter)Keith: Are you kidding? Do I look like I have free time?

Noble: Ha, shameless. You’re getting rid of everyone you see as unfavorable since you can’t do anything else. The thought of you as the next king is terrifying. Are you unaware of how much you worry His Majesty?

(Alter)Keith: “I’m” well aware. However, you don’t need to take something so trivial so seriously. Actually, I think His Majesty would be happy to hear that I got rid of anyone that would hurt our country.

While the man raged like a demon, Prince Keith remained unbothered.

However, his voice was cold and it was like you could see the words “unpleasant”, “annoying”, and “depressing” written on his large back.

(How can the noble say something so harsh when the evidence is right in front of him?)

Behind Prince Keith, I was stewing in anger while holding back the urge to slap the noble.

At that moment, Prince Keith cleared his throat and cut the man off.

(Alter)Keith: I don’t wanna waste any more time, so we should wrap things up.

He looked at the noble and handed him a document.

The man’s face paled at its contents.

Noble: Stripped of…my land and title? No way, don’t mess around with me!

(Alter)Keith: There’s no need to yell, it’s the truth. Are you unaware of how serious the crimes you committed were? Even if you try to run away, you have no status, no money, nothing. You’ll be spending your days wishing for death.

Noble: Gh…Then we’ll just pretend this never happened. No one will go along with your lies anyway.

(...!)

The man rang a bell that was on the table and hired mercenaries stormed in.

(He thought something like this would happen…he’s basically admitting his guilt)

Alter!Keith: You stay close to the wall.

Emma: …Okay.

As the mercenaries charged toward Prince Keith with their swords drawn, he drew his sword with a mocking smile.

He proceeded to cut through their arms, legs, and stomachs without hesitation, and delivered bone-shattering kicks.

The way he fought was like that of a savage beast, a far cry from the man I knew.

Mercenary: Damn it…

(Ah…)

I met eyes with a mercenary. 

When I braced myself for an attack, a flying chair slammed the man against the wall.

Alter!Keith: Where’re your eyes at? You got the wrong opponent.  

(He saved me…Even though right now, I’m just a stranger and not someone important enough to protect)

(No…that doesn’t matter)

(What matters is if someone’s harmful to the nice Prince Keith or not. That’s what I think his criteria is)

After that, the mercenaries swung his sword at Prince Keith, but wasn’t even able to land a hit on him, and soon, we were the only ones left standing in the damaged room a beast had rampaged in.

Noble: Why…why did this happen…

(Alter)Keith: You were the one who knowingly committed a crime. Your refusal to accept it won’t change the facts.

In a fit of rage, the man slammed his head on the floor and then writhed in pain.

When I took in the horrifying scene, the man’s fists suddenly stopped shaking.

I could hear my heart pounding in the odd silence that followed.

Noble: …If what I did was a crime, then what about you? You killed your brother.

(Wha…)

(Alter)Keith: …

Noble: You couldn’t save him because you’re a failure? You killed him because you’re a failure. A good little brother who was loved by everyone was in your way. You’re just as much of a criminal as I am. So why weren’t you judged?

(You don’t know anything…How dare you say something so disgusting to a person who just lost someone important to him?) 

I was so angry I felt dizzy. My vision became spotty. I was hyperventilating. 

If I said anything, my anger would erupt like a volcano.

(But I can’t take it anymore)

Alter!Keith: …

(Eh…)

Prince Keith drew his sword again.

When he stalked toward the man on the floor, an alarm went off in my head.

(No…!)

I found myself moving when he raised his sword.

Noble: Gah…!

(...!)

When I hugged Prince Keith from behind to stop him, his sword struck the man’s shoulder.

(I was late…but he missed a vital spot. If I didn’t move, it wouldn’t have been his shoulder)

Alter!Keith: …Who killed my brother? Who’s a criminal? Say it again.

Noble: Eek, s-save me…

Alter!Keith: Now the greedy criminal’s playing the victim? Digusting. Why…do people like you get to live comfortably? Don’t use that guy as a distraction.

(He’s not used to hearing this)

(He’s been holding in more anger than I could ever imagine)

(Wicked Prince Keith exists for nice Prince Keith. He’ll never get used to it)

It was like my heart was torn out of my chest as I felt him trembling through my hold on him.

(Anger dulls the pain as it continues piling on)

(Prince Keith doesn’t know how much he’s hurting because of that anger)

(And all these words hurt the nice Prince Keith)

--

Emma: Huh, are you sure?

Alter!Keith: If you came from the future, then you got nowhere else to stay. Think of it as an apology for keeping you out so late.

Emma: …Thank you. For everything…

(I didn’t him to prepare a room for me)

By the time we returned to the castle, it was dark out.

After leading me to my room, Prince Keith immediately turned away.

He was heading in the opposite direction of his room and I found myself speaking up.

Emma: Um, Prince Keith.

Alter!Keith: Hm?

I didn’t expect him to stop and look at me.

Those dark circles under his eyes had gotten worse.

(Of course they were. Everywhere we went, people hurled words that made me want to cover my ears)

Emma: Where are you going?

Alter!Keith: Somewhere to relax. I’m not sleepy yet. You should get some sleep. I’ll play with you again tomorrow if you’re in the mood. It’s better to be with someone when you want a distraction.

(Does he think I’m feeling anxious over suddenly being transported into the past…?)

(After all that’s happened…How can he be so kind?)

(Even with a different personality, Prince Keith’s still Prince Keith. That’s why…)

Alter!Keith: What else do you want?

I grabbed Prince Keith’s arm as he started to walk away.

I was hesitant, but had a strong desire to not let go.

Emma: So much happened today that I don’t think I’ll be able to get any sleep. So…can I stay with you for just a little longer?

(I don’t want to leave Prince Keith alone when he’s like this)

After a moment of silence, my hand was removed.

And then Prince Keith crudely pulled me toward him.

Alter!Keith: …Sure. Since you invited me, you’re gonna make it fun for me, right?

--

(—I didn’t expect this)

[o-sachi]

─── A Letter for @marushato ✦

If you have received this, it means you signed up for Sachi's Selfship Event !

TWINNNN. We only recently became moots but I alr love you. Thank you for hyping me up and feeding our delusions together. You seriously make my brain melt. I hope to see you annotate my future works as well meehehhheheh.

✉️ Attachment: ABCs with Narumi Gen

[A] Affection He likes to play it cool and pretend to be the nonchalant boyfriend in front of everyone. But who is he fooling? Absolutely no one. Everyone in the first division knows how clingy he is. Yes, that's pretty much 90% of his show of affection—just Narumi wanting to be around you 24/7. He also likes to share his stuff with you (he never shares ANYTHING, so you know you're special). Whether it's food, a game, or something he bought off of Yamazon—best believe that if you asked for it, he'd probably let you have it.

He's a sore loser too. But he'd gladly let you win when you play games together because he likes seeing you smile so widely.

[C] Comfort Narumi's a bit awkward when it comes to comforting you, especially since you're quite good at concealing your feelings. Like he knows you're not okay, but he's not sure what to do (like the vibes are off). At first, he might try to comfort you with his words. But he soon realizes he's not that good at it. So he tries to do things for you instead—like getting you your favorite food or giving you a massage. He gives you absolute princess treatment basically (he'd want to be treated like that if he were sad, so yeah!)

He also suddenly becomes nicer? LIKE who are you and what did you do to Narumi?

[D] Dates Most of your dates are spent indoors, either at your places or in your rooms at the base. You love playing games with each other. Even if all you do is play while talking to each other—y'all are pretty happy with that. But on the rare occasion that you both have a day off that coincides with each other's, you drag him out of his cave. You get breakfast/brunch/lunch together (dinners are too much of a hassle, y'all would rather be in bed by then). But there have been many instances wherein he practically begged you to join him at a convention. You guys buy figures together sometimes!

[J] Jealousy Like I said, he tries to act nonchalant about your relationship, but he's the biggest fake idgafer ever. He gets annoyed for two reasons: 1.) he's a naturally possessive guy, what's his is his; and 2.) the audacity of that person to actually try and take something from THE Narumi Gen? His ego could never. But he'll whine and moan about it before confronting that person. He'll ask you shit like, "Do you really love me or what?" You know it's bothering him when he transforms into the biggest drama queen. However... you don't really have to worry much about him. He naturally repels other "potential suitors" and he's waaaay too loyal to you.

[K] Kisses He almost fell to his knees the first time you kissed. You both remember it well because you two were arguing about something silly at the time before the major event happened. Narumi always gets butterflies in his tummy no matter what kind of kiss you give him. You'll also notice that he likes just about any kiss on the face—cheeks, lips, forehead, nose. Sometimes you still catch him blushing, but he'll start calling you crazy and gaslighting you for imagining things lol. (He was a terrible kisser at first, but you taught him well).

[O] Other People Everyone's a bit confused how the two opposites that used to butt heads all the time are suddenly together now. But through time, people are just glad that there's someone that can handle Narumi. Due to your relationship, he has become a bit more responsible. He attends meetings more than he usually would. Hasegawa is personally thankful that you do his work now (babysitting Narumi lol). But beyond that, they find you two to be the cutest couple ever. Both of you try to be the nonchalant one in the relationship, but you both know that y'all crazy for each other.

[X] XOXO His little act of love is that whenever he orders something from Yamazon (which is pretty much all the fucking time), he always makes sure to get a little something for you. He's confident he makes enough money to splurge on the both of you. Plus, he loves the bright smile on your face as you unbox his packages together. He ordered you matching figurines once (figurines from the same series/game) and he was sooooo proud of himself.

Thank you for participating. I hope you like it :3

Want to participate? Give this a read.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[artyandink]

amoralism | sixteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, gunfire, angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: I Love You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

symbolism

Gunfire echoed down the narrow alleyway as you ducked behind a dumpster, your heart pounding in time with the chaos around you. The tang of gunpowder filled the air, sharp and bitter, while shouts and the whir of bullets slicing through the air surrounded you.

Dean Winchester. You hadn’t seen him in months—maybe even a year—but there he was. The same cocky grin, the same dangerous gleam in his eyes as he fired off rounds at you and your team. It should’ve been impossible. This was the man you once knew like the back of your hand, the one you trusted with your life. Your partner, your lover, the man who could light your soul on fire with a glance.

But now? Now, he was a ghost—a rogue agent for a crime syndicate that called itself "Hell." And you weren’t just chasing a man who’d betrayed the FBI. You were chasing a Knight of Hell, a force to be reckoned with. Dean Winchester had fallen, but the pull between you both had never quite broken.

"Clear!" came the shout from one of your fellow agents. You broke from cover, your legs moving on instinct as you sprinted after him. You knew where he was going; you could feel it, as if some invisible tether still tied the two of you together. The beat of your shoes against the cracked pavement mirrored the frantic pace of your thoughts. You shouldn’t care. He was a traitor, dangerous. But damn it, you needed answers.

The alley split, and you turned down a narrower path, barely able to keep Dean in your sights. His broad frame vanished behind an old, weathered warehouse door. You hesitated for half a second, heart pounding in your throat. This wasn’t protocol. Going in alone? Chasing a Knight of Hell with nothing but a gun and a grudge? But the FBI had never prepared you for this kind of battle—not when it was personal.

You slammed through the door, gun raised, but the room you stepped into was quiet—eerily so. The smell of rust and old wood filled your nose. You spun around, searching every corner, every shadow.

“Dean!” His name left your lips like an accusation, sharp and cutting. The room echoed in response. “Stop running! You owe me an explanation.”

Silence answered.

You turned again, and suddenly, there he was. He emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey, his green eyes dark, unreadable, but that smirk—God, that same smug smirk—played on his lips.

“An explanation? That’s what you want?” His voice was low, gravelly, laced with something darker, more dangerous than the Dean you used to know.

“Damn right I do,” you shot back, your pulse quickening, but not from fear. Anger, frustration—something else entirely. “Why are you doing this? Why did you leave? And why the hell did you—" You stopped yourself, but the words hung between you like a loaded gun. Why did you kiss me?

Dean’s jaw tightened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back to your team, pretend you didn’t see me.”

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you knew you weren’t going to shoot. He knew it too. “You think I can just walk away? You think this is something I can ignore? You kissed me, Dean. Then you disappeared into Hell’s little army. Now you’re working for the same people we used to hunt down. What happened to you?”

He stepped closer, and you felt the space between you shrink, the air thickening with a tension you hadn’t felt in months, maybe years. "I told you," he growled, his voice like gravel, "I don’t owe you anything."

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” you snapped, refusing to back down. “If you didn’t owe me anything, why’d you come back the last time? Why’d you—” You caught your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Dean’s eyes darkened, his jaw flexing as he took another step toward you. “You really want to do this now?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was the storm beneath it that made you shiver.

“Yeah, I do.” Your voice trembled with equal parts anger and desperation. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that you could see the war raging behind his eyes.

Without warning, Dean surged forward, pushing you back against the cold, rough wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, hard and unyielding. The kiss was angry, desperate, full of everything unsaid between you. It was fire and fury, passion and regret, all colliding at once.

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his jacket as you kissed him back with equal force. It was too much, too fast, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. This was what you had been chasing, what you had been missing.

Dean’s hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed you, craved you, in a way words couldn’t explain. His touch was rough, desperate, as though he were trying to erase the space that had grown between you. You felt the cold metal of his gun brush against your side as his fingers slid under your shirt, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

You should stop. This wasn’t the time, the place. But the logic in your mind was drowned out by the heat building between your bodies. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that you knew would be visible later, but you didn’t care.

“Dean…” you breathed out, your fingers tightening in his hair as his hands traveled lower, pushing past the waistband of your pants. “This—this doesn’t answer anything.”

But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, craving more. He groaned against your skin, his breath hot and uneven.

“You want answers?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “This is your answer.” His hand gripped the back of your neck, tilting your head up so his eyes bore into yours. “This is all there is left.”

You shook your head, even as you clung to him, even as your body screamed for him. “That’s not true. I know you, Dean. I know there’s more than this.” Your voice cracked, and his expression flickered with something—regret, pain—before it hardened again.

He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else too—something raw, vulnerable. His hands slowed, tracing the contours of your body like he was memorizing you, like this was the last time.

Your back hit the wall again, and you felt the cool metal of his gun holster pressing into your hip, a sharp reminder of who he was now—what he had become. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands pulled you closer, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt since the last time you were together.

It was messy, frantic. Clothes were pushed aside, discarded haphazardly as the heat between you both became unbearable. Dean’s hands were everywhere, roaming over your skin, his lips never leaving yours for long. The desperation was palpable, both of you clinging to something neither of you could name, something you both feared losing.

Your breath hitched as he lifted you, pinning you against the wall, his body pressing into yours in all the right ways. It was fast, rough, the way you both needed it to be. You bit back a cry as he pushed inside you, the sensation overwhelming. Your fingers clawed at his back, holding him closer, pulling him deeper. His mouth was on your neck again, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered your name like a curse, like a prayer.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the shootout, the lies, the betrayal. It was just you and Dean, tangled together in the heat of the moment, desperate for something you couldn’t quite define. It was messy and chaotic, but it was real.

As the tension in your body built to an unbearable height, you felt his hand cup the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss—this one softer, slower, as if he was trying to savor the moment. Your body trembled as you came undone beneath him, and Dean followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, uneven.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was silent again, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Slowly, reality crept back in—the sound of distant sirens, the cold air against your sweat-dampened skin, the feel of Dean still pressed against you, his arms caging you in.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and for a second, you saw the man you used to know. The one who made you laugh, who made you feel safe. But it was fleeting, and soon the mask slipped back into place.

“You’re still not answering me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, shaky. “Why?”

Dean’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes hardening once more. “Because it’s too late for answers.”

The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. You sat by the window, the glow of warm light spilling out onto the street, painting everything in soft shades of gold. Inside, laughter echoed through the walls. The clink of cutlery and the muffled sound of conversation drifted into the night air. It was the kind of evening that felt like home—safe, comforting, everything you deserved.

But you couldn’t see him.

Across the street, hidden in the shadows beneath the towering oaks, Dean Winchester stood still, watching. His breath misted in the cool air, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. Every instinct screamed for him to leave, to turn away before the sight of you, so close but so impossibly far, tore him apart. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Beside him, Sam shifted, the quiet gurgles of his newborn cradled in his arms cutting through the silence. Little Dean—his nephew, named after him—slept in the back seat of the Impala, his soft snores barely audible over the gentle hum of the engine. Sam cast a glance at his older brother, his brow furrowing with concern.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile stillness between them.

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on you, on the way you smiled at something one of your family members said, your laughter so genuine, so light. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in too long. A sound he hadn’t been the cause of in far too long.

You looked happy. You looked… content.

And Dean felt like he was dying inside.

“She’s better off,” he said finally, his voice rough, raw with emotion he couldn’t quite choke down. “She doesn’t need me messing things up.”

Sam frowned, shifting the baby in his arms. The newborn stirred slightly but settled when Sam gently rocked him. “You don’t know that. You haven’t even talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but Dean didn’t need him to. He knew exactly what Sam meant.

Since he’d left. Since he’d decided that the only way to keep you safe was to cut you out of his life completely. Since he’d broken his own heart—and yours—in the process.

Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier with every passing second. “She’s moved on, Sam. Look at her.” He gestured to the window, where you were pouring a glass of wine for your sister, laughing again at something her husband said. “She’s happy.”

Sam followed his gaze, watching the scene unfold. It was the picture of domestic bliss—the kind of life Dean had always told himself he didn’t deserve. And maybe he didn’t. Not with the blood on his hands. Not with the weight of his sins pressing down on his shoulders every single day.

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest, the one that pulsed with every beat of his heart, telling him how wrong this felt.

“You think she’s better off without you?” Sam asked quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “Do you really believe that?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on you, on the way you seemed to glow in the warmth of the room, surrounded by people who loved you. It was everything he wanted for you, everything he’d fought so hard to protect you from losing.

But damn, it hurt. God, it hurt so much to see you like this, to know you were living a life he could never be a part of.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.”

Sam sighed, shifting his weight as he glanced down at the baby in his arms. “Dean, I know you think you’re doing the right thing. I know you think you’re protecting her. But… are you sure this is what she wants? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she’d rather have you in her life, even with all the danger? Even with everything?”

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. Of course, he’d thought about it. It was all he ever thought about. Every night, when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, your face was the first thing he saw. Every morning, when he woke up to the empty space beside him, the space you used to fill, it was your absence that weighed him down like a stone.

But every time he thought about picking up the phone, about calling you, about telling you how much he missed you, how much he needed you, something stopped him.

He was too dangerous. His life was too dangerous. And the last thing he wanted was for you to get caught up in it. He’d already lost too many people he cared about. He couldn’t lose you too.

“She’s safer without me,” Dean whispered, his voice breaking. “That’s all that matters.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at his brother. “Is it, though? Is that really all that matters?”

Dean didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his chest too heavy with the weight of everything he was trying to hold back.

Sam shifted again, glancing back at the house. The soft glow of the lights illuminated the scene inside, casting you in a warm, golden light that made you seem almost ethereal. You were smiling, laughing, surrounded by the people you loved.

But Dean couldn’t stop the thought that crept into his mind, unbidden and unwanted.

Was this happiness real? Or was it just a mask, something you wore to hide the pain he’d caused when he walked out of your life?

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how far to push. “You’re not failing her by wanting to be in her life. You’re failing her by staying away.”

Those words cut deeper than any blade. Dean flinched, his breath catching in his throat as the truth of Sam’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d been telling himself for so long that he was protecting you, that staying away was the right thing to do. But what if Sam was right? What if, by pushing you away, he was hurting you even more?

What if, all this time, he’d been lying to himself?

Dean blinked, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let them fall, but it was no use. The emotion he’d been bottling up for so long was finally breaking free, spilling over like a dam that had been holding back a flood.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. He tried to swallow down the sob that threatened to break free, but his chest was tight, his throat raw with the weight of it all.

“I’m failing her,” Dean whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. “I’m failing her, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said everything. He understood. He always understood.

Dean pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. The sob he’d been holding back finally broke free, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He hadn’t cried like this in years—hadn’t let himself feel this much in years.

But now, standing across the street from the woman he loved, watching her live a life without him, the dam had finally broken.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Dean choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was protecting her. But all I’ve done is… all I’ve done is hurt her.”

Sam reached out, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not too late, Dean. You can still fix this. You can still—”

Dean shook his head, cutting him off. “No. I can’t.” His voice was firm, but it was laced with a deep, aching sorrow that felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. “It’s too late. She’s… she’s happy now. After I fuckin’ ruined her She doesn’t need me anymore.”

But even as he said the words, they felt like a lie.

Dean didn’t know what was worse—the idea that you had moved on, that you were living a life without him, or the fear that maybe you hadn’t. Maybe you were just as broken as he was. Maybe you were putting on a brave face, pretending to be okay when inside, you were just as lost, just as hollow as he felt.

And the worst part? He would never know. Because he was too much of a coward to find out.

Sam watched his brother, his heart aching for him. He knew how much Dean had sacrificed, how much he’d given up to try and protect the people he loved. But sometimes, the cost of that sacrifice was too high. Sometimes, the people you were trying to protect didn’t want to be saved. They just wanted to be with you.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to—Sam, you, himself. Maybe all of you.

Sam squeezed his shoulder, his eyes full of understanding. “You’re not alone in this, Dean. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dean nodded, but the tears still fell. He didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel like the hero he was supposed to be. All he felt was tired—so damn tired of fighting, of running, of pretending like he could outrun the weight of his own heart.

Across the street, you laughed again, and Dean’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He wanted to believe that you were happy, that you had moved on, that you were living the life you deserved. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t protecting you. He was failing you.

And the worst part?

He didn’t know how to fix it.

You sat at the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. The house was quiet, the soft hum of life outside the only reminder that the world kept turning. But in here—in this room—it felt like time had stopped, like every second stretched into an eternity of silence, and your thoughts were the only thing filling the space.

Dean.

The name lingered in your mind, a familiar ache that never quite faded, no matter how much time passed. It had been months, maybe even longer now, since you’d last seen him—since he’d walked out of your life with that devastating finality. Since he’d left you standing there, heartbroken and confused, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

The truth was, you had never stopped thinking about him. About the way he used to make you laugh, how his smile could light up a room. How, despite everything, there was always this fire between you both—a pull so strong it felt like gravity. It had always been more than just a relationship. It had been a force of nature.

But now, all that was left was the empty space beside you and the echo of his name in your head.

You shifted on the bed, curling your knees up to your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. But it didn’t work. Nothing did.

The guilt was always there too, creeping in whenever you let your guard down. It whispered to you in the quiet moments, telling you that you hadn’t tried hard enough, that you hadn’t fought for him the way you should have. If you had—if you had—maybe things would be different. Maybe he would still be here.

A single tear slid down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, but it didn’t stop the flood that followed. Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice.

You’d been so stupid, so naïve to think that Dean would always be there. You’d thought that the connection you shared was unbreakable, that no matter what, he wouldn’t walk away. But he had, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame him. Not entirely.

Maybe you hadn’t done enough. Maybe he had been slipping away for a long time, and you just hadn’t noticed. Maybe you’d been too focused on your own life, on trying to keep your family together, that you hadn’t seen the cracks forming in the foundation of your relationship.

You could still remember the last time you saw him—the way he’d kissed you like it was goodbye, like he already knew he wasn’t coming back. You’d asked him what was wrong, why he seemed so distant, but he hadn’t answered. He’d just kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted.

And then he was gone.

You hadn’t heard from him since. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving you to pick up the pieces of whatever it was you thought you had.

Your breath hitched as another sob escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands, trying to muffle the sound. You didn’t want anyone to hear you crying. You didn’t want anyone to know how much it still hurt, how raw the wound still felt.

But the truth was, you missed him. God, you missed him so much it felt like a physical ache, a hollow emptiness that nothing else could fill.

A soft knock on the door broke through the haze of your thoughts, startling you.

You quickly wiped your face, trying to compose yourself, though you knew it was a losing battle. Your eyes were already red and swollen, your breath still uneven from the tears.

“Yeah?” you called out, your voice thick with emotion.

The door creaked open, and there, standing in the dim light of the hallway, was Sam. He looked… tired. Worn out, like the weight of the world was pressing down on his broad shoulders. But there was a softness in his expression, a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten even more.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping into the room. “Just wanted to check in before bed. Thought you might need someone to talk to.”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thinking.”

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning your face, reading the emotion you couldn’t quite hide. He wasn’t fooled. He never was.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying a word. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air between you.

You could feel his presence beside you, solid and comforting, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. Because Sam was here, and Dean wasn’t. And no matter how much you cared for Sam—no matter how much he cared for you—it wasn’t the same.

“It’s okay to miss him, you know,” Sam said softly, his voice breaking through the silence.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling again, but it was no use. The dam broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shook your whole body.

“I didn’t try hard enough, Sam,” you choked out between sobs, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I should have… I should have fought for him. I should have done something.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, his expression pained as he listened to you. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have changed what happened. But the words stuck in his throat, weighed down by the truth he wasn’t sure he could tell you.

Because the truth was, Dean hadn’t left because of anything you’d done. He hadn’t left because you didn’t fight hard enough. He left because he thought he was protecting you—because he believed that staying away was the only way to keep you safe.

But Sam couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

Instead, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, letting you cry against his chest. His heart ached for you, for Dean, for the mess that his brother had made in his attempt to do what he thought was right.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tighter. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if holding onto him could somehow stop the pain, could somehow bring Dean back. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could.

“I just… I just don’t understand,” you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse from crying. “How could he just leave? How could he just… walk away like I meant nothing?”

Sam closed his eyes, the guilt clawing at his insides. He wanted to tell you that you did mean something—that you meant everything to Dean. But he couldn’t. Dean had made him promise not to say anything, not to drag you back into the dangerous world they lived in.

“He didn’t walk away because you meant nothing,” Sam said softly, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. “I promise you, that’s not why.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Then why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why did he leave?”

Sam hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words—the words that would ease your pain without betraying his brother’s trust.

“He… he thought it was for the best,” Sam said quietly, hating how hollow the words sounded, knowing they wouldn’t be enough.

You stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the need for answers, for something—anything—that could explain why Dean had left you like this.

But Sam didn’t offer any more explanations. He just looked at you with those sad, understanding eyes, and you knew that whatever the reason was, he wasn’t going to tell you.

You swallowed hard, wiping at your face again, though the tears kept coming.

“I just want to know what I did wrong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I want to know why I wasn’t enough.”

Sam’s chest tightened at your words, the guilt gnawing at him even more. You had been more than enough for Dean. You had been everything. But Dean had made his choice, and now you were left to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered by someone else’s decision.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “None of this is your fault.”

But you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t. Because if it wasn’t your fault, then why did it feel like it was? Why did it feel like you could have stopped him if you had just been a little stronger, a little more… something?

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears kept falling, the pain still so fresh, so raw.

“I miss him,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “I miss him so much, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes, his heart breaking for you, for his brother, for the mess that love had left behind. He wished he could make it better. He wished he could tell you the truth, that Dean missed you too, that Dean was just as broken as you were. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

So instead, he just held you, his arms wrapped around you in a

silent promise that he would be here for you, that you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

And in that quiet moment, as you cried against his chest, Sam made a decision.

He couldn’t tell you everything. But he could promise you this—he wouldn’t let you go through this without knowing the truth. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but someday, you would know why Dean had left. And when that day came, Sam hoped you would find some kind of peace in it.

For now, though, he just held you, letting you cry, letting you feel the pain that came with loving someone who wasn’t there anymore.

And maybe, in time, the ache would fade.

Maybe.

The quiet of the house felt heavy as Sam made his way down the stairs, each step creaking slightly under his weight. He moved slowly, careful not to make any noise, not to disturb the peace that had settled upstairs. You were finally asleep, your tears having given way to exhaustion. Sam had stayed by your side until your breathing evened out, until the tension in your body softened, and the weight of everything you were feeling momentarily lifted.

But now, as he descended into the dimly lit living room, Sam felt the full weight of the conversation waiting for him. He could see Rick, your dad, sitting at the dining table, his large hands folded in front of him, his eyes distant and troubled. The overhead light cast deep shadows across his face, making him look older than Sam remembered.

Sam paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking a breath before stepping into the room.

"Sir," Sam said quietly, nodding in acknowledgment as he approached. He'd always addressed Rick that way—respectful, deferential, even though Rick had insisted more than once that Sam didn’t need to be so formal. But tonight, the word seemed to fit the mood of the house, the unspoken tension hanging between them.

Rick looked up, his eyes heavy with the kind of worry only a father could carry. He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge Sam with anything more than a nod. The lines on his face deepened as he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his tired features.

"Sam," Rick said, his voice gravelly and low. “She asleep?”

Sam nodded as he pulled out a chair across from Rick and sat down, his long legs stretching out underneath the table. He glanced toward the staircase, as if making sure you weren’t going to wake up and hear them talking. “Yeah, finally,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “She was pretty upset. She… She misses him.”

Rick’s lips tightened, a muscle in his jaw jumping slightly as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze fixed on the wood grain of the table as though the words he wanted to say were etched somewhere in the surface.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Sam,” Rick finally said, his voice low but firm. “She’s my daughter. Every day, I watch her break a little more, and I can’t tell her why. I can’t help her. All I can do is sit here and lie to her face.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, his heart heavy with the weight of Rick’s words. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Rick had been struggling with the situation from the beginning—from the moment Dean had disappeared from your life without so much as an explanation. Rick knew more than you did, enough to understand why Dean had left, but that didn’t make it any easier.

And it certainly didn’t make it easier for Rick to watch his daughter suffer.

“I know,” Sam said, his voice soft but steady. “I know it’s hard, sir. But it’s the best thing for her right now. Dean—he’s… he’s doing what he thinks is right. He’s trying to protect her.”

Rick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked up at Sam, his eyes filled with frustration. “Protect her? From what, exactly? From him? Because it sure as hell looks like he’s the one hurting her the most right now.”

Sam flinched at Rick’s words, the truth of them cutting deep. He couldn’t deny that Dean’s decision to leave had hurt you—had shattered you in ways Sam didn’t know how to fix. But he also knew Dean, knew the guilt and fear that drove every one of his brother’s actions, especially when it came to you.

“Dean’s not doing this because he wants to hurt her,” Sam said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, measured. “He’s doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to keep her safe. You know that.”

Rick’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I know what Dean thinks, Sam,” he said, his voice rough. “But that doesn’t make this any easier to swallow. That doesn’t make it easier to watch her cry herself to sleep every night, wondering why she wasn’t enough to make him stay.”

Sam felt a sharp pang of guilt twist in his chest. He’d seen the way you tried to hide your pain, the way you put on a brave face for your family, for the people who loved you. But when you were alone—or when you thought no one was looking—the cracks in your armor showed. And Sam hated it. He hated that he had to watch you suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this from her,” Rick said, his voice quieter now, the anger giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable. “She’s my little girl, Sam. I’m supposed to protect her. And I can’t even do that.”

Sam’s heart ached for Rick, for the father who wanted nothing more than to shield his daughter from the pain that had been thrust into her life. It was the same way he felt about Dean, the same helplessness that came from watching someone you loved fall apart and knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“I get it, sir,” Sam said after a long pause. “Believe me, I get it. But the truth—it’s not going to make this any easier for her. If anything, it’s going to make things worse.”

Rick looked up at Sam, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Worse? How could it possibly be worse than this?”

Sam swallowed hard, the weight of the secret he carried pressing down on him. He knew that telling you the truth about Dean—about why he had really left—would only open up more questions, more pain. Dean wasn’t just out there living a normal life, trying to move on from you. He was caught up in something dark, something dangerous. Something that Sam wasn’t even sure Dean would survive.

“If she knew why Dean left… if she knew what he’s dealing with, she’d never stop trying to find him,” Sam explained, his voice low but steady. “And that’s exactly what Dean doesn’t want. He left because he thought it was the only way to protect her. If she knew the truth, if she went looking for him, she’d be in danger. Real danger.”

Rick’s expression softened slightly, his anger giving way to concern. He was quiet for a moment, the words sinking in.

Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he tried to make Rick understand. “Dean isn’t doing this because he doesn’t love her. He’s doing it because he does love her. And he’s willing to hurt himself—and her—if it means keeping her safe.”

Rick let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the situation settled over him. “I just don’t know how much longer she can take this, Sam,” he said quietly. “She’s strong, but… she’s breaking. And I don’t know how to help her.”

Sam felt his chest tighten at Rick’s words. He’d seen it too, the way you were slowly unraveling, bit by bit. It was like watching someone try to keep their head above water, only to see the waves pulling them down further with every passing day.

“I know,” Sam said softly, his voice filled with empathy. “But right now, the best thing we can do is give her time. Dean’s not going to be gone forever. He’ll come back when it’s safe. He’ll come back when he can.”

Rick looked at Sam, his eyes searching for something—hope, maybe. But Sam wasn’t sure if he had any to offer. He wanted to believe that Dean would come back, that they’d all come out of this mess on the other side. But the truth was, he didn’t know. Not for certain.

All Sam knew was that his brother had made a choice, and now they all had to live with the consequences.

“I’m asking you to hold on a little longer, sir,” Sam said quietly. “I know it’s hard. But if we tell her now, if we bring her into this, it’s only going to make things worse. For her, for Dean… for all of us.”

Rick stared at Sam for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He wanted to help his daughter, to ease her pain, but he also knew that Sam was right. Bringing you into the dangerous world Dean lived in wouldn’t fix anything. It would only put you at risk.

Finally, Rick nodded, though the movement was slow, hesitant. “Alright,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll hold out a little longer. But Sam…” He looked up, his eyes filled with a father’s fear. “If something happens to her because of this—because of Dean—I won’t forgive him. Or you.”

Sam’s heart clenched at Rick’s words, the weight of the promise hanging heavy between them. He understood. Rick was trusting him—trusting Dean—to keep you safe, even if that meant keeping you in the dark.

“I promise,” Sam said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Rick didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He would hold out, for now. But he wouldn’t wait forever.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

After a few moments, Rick let out a tired sigh, running a hand over his face as he stood up from the table. “I’m heading to bed,” he said quietly, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You should get some rest too, Sam.”

Sam nodded, though he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. There was too much weighing on his mind—too many what-ifs, too many worries about what the future held.

“Goodnight, sir,” Sam said, watching as Rick made his way toward the stairs.

Rick paused at the base of the staircase, glancing back at Sam one last time. “Take care of her, Sam,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s all I’ve got.”

And with that, Rick disappeared upstairs, leaving Sam alone in the quiet, dimly lit room.

Sam sat there for a long while, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Dean, of the dangerous path they were all walking. He wanted to believe that everything would turn out alright—that Dean would come back, that you’d find some kind of peace.

But the truth was, Sam didn’t know what the future held. All he could do was wait. Wait for Dean to come back. Wait for the moment when the truth would finally come out.

And hope that, when that time came, it wouldn’t tear everything apart.

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers absently twisting the hem of the blanket as she stared at the closed bedroom door. The room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound breaking the stillness. Her husband, David, was sitting beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. They had been quiet for a while, the kind of silence that often felt heavy with unspoken words.

Cassie’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions colliding in a chaotic dance that left her feeling both drained and unsettled. She had seen you—her older sister, her guide and protector—broken in ways she had never imagined. It had always been easy to take your strength for granted, to see you as the one who was always there to pick up the pieces, to offer support, to be the anchor in the storm. But now, seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, had turned her world upside down.

She turned to David, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he looked at her with a mixture of concern and understanding. “I never realized how much she meant to me,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I mean, I knew she was important—she’s my sister. But I never really understood… until now.”

David nodded, his hand gently rubbing her back in a soothing motion. He had always been a calm presence, a steady anchor in her own turbulent seas. Now, he was trying to offer that same stability to her, as she grappled with the weight of her sister’s suffering.

“I see her now, breaking,” Cassie continued, her voice trembling. “And it’s like… like a part of me is breaking too. I never realized how much of myself was tied up in her strength, in her being the one who always had it together.”

David shifted slightly, his gaze tender as he looked at her. “It’s hard to see someone you love in pain,” he said softly. “Especially when they’ve always been the one who seemed unshakable. It’s like suddenly, the world’s not what you thought it was.”

Cassie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I always thought she’d be okay. I thought she was strong enough to handle anything. But now… seeing her like this, it’s like everything I thought I knew about her has been turned upside down.”

David pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said gently. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. It’s okay to feel like you’re breaking too.”

Cassie leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil. “I just don’t know how to help her,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t know what to do, how to fix it.”

David sighed, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “Sometimes, just being there, just letting her know that you’re with her, is enough. You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, the most important thing is just showing up.”

Cassie’s grip tightened around him, the tears flowing freely now. “But I hate seeing her like this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

David’s voice was soft but steady. “You can’t take away her pain. But you can be there for her. You can listen, you can hold her, you can offer her love and support. That’s what she needs right now. And that’s what you can give her.”

Cassie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I just feel so helpless,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be strong for her when I’m falling apart myself.”

David cupped her face gently, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “It’s okay to feel vulnerable,” he said softly. “It’s okay to be scared and unsure. What matters is that you’re there for her, that you care. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just being present, showing her that she’s not alone—that’s what really counts.”

Cassie closed her eyes, taking in his words. The reassurance in his voice was a small balm to her aching heart. She knew he was right, but the pain of seeing you suffer was overwhelming, and she struggled to see a way forward.

“She’s always been my rock,” Cassie said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “And now she’s the one who needs support, and I feel like I don’t know how to be the sister she needs me to be.”

David gently stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re doing more than you realize. Just by being here, by caring, by feeling this deeply—you’re showing her that she’s loved. That’s the most important thing you can do right now.”

Cassie nodded, her tears beginning to subside as she drew strength from David’s words and his presence. She knew she couldn’t fix everything, that she couldn’t erase the pain you were feeling. But she could be there for you, could offer the love and support that you so desperately needed.

As the minutes passed, the silence in the room felt less oppressive. Cassie’s thoughts began to clear, and she focused on the steps she could take to be a better support for you. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be days of struggle and heartache. But with David’s unwavering support and love, she felt a glimmer of hope that she could find a way through it.

“I’ll be there for her,” Cassie said softly, her voice more determined now. “I’ll be the support she needs. I’ll show her that she’s not alone, that she’s still loved.”

David nodded, his smile gentle and encouraging. “That’s all she needs to know right now. And you’re more than capable of giving her that.”

Dean Winchester leaned against the hood of his old, battered car, the cool night air mixing with the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional passing vehicle. He had parked a few houses down from yours, hidden in the shadow of a large oak tree that offered just enough cover for him to remain unseen. From his vantage point, he could see your kitchen window, the soft glow of light spilling out into the darkness.

He had been here for hours, a silent observer of a life he felt he had no right to be a part of anymore. His heart ached with every glance through the window, seeing you move about the kitchen, your movements subdued, like you were carrying a weight that he could barely imagine. The sight of you—so domestic, so normal, so unbroken—made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that gnawed at him relentlessly.

You had been cleaning up after dinner, a simple, mundane task that somehow felt monumental in the way it highlighted just how different your life was now compared to when he had been a part of it. Dean knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew that just by being in the vicinity, he was risking everything—risking your safety, your peace, your very life. But the pull to see you, to make sure you were okay, was too strong to resist.

He watched you with a painful mixture of longing and guilt as you scrubbed at a pot, your movements robotic and weary. The way your shoulders slumped, the way your hands seemed to move without purpose—it was clear that the weight of everything had taken its toll on you. He wanted to be the one to lift that weight, to take it off your shoulders, but he knew he was too dangerous, too lost in his own darkness to be of any help.

Dean’s eyes were fixed on the window when, suddenly, he saw you stop. You stood there for a moment, your back to him, and he saw the subtle tremble in your form. His heart raced, a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. You placed the dish you were washing back into the sink with a clatter that echoed through the quiet kitchen. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you sink to your knees, the sobs that racked your body muffled but unmistakable.

He wanted to move, to go inside and hold you, to comfort you the way he once had, but he was paralyzed. The thought of being so close to you—of seeing you like this—was almost more than he could bear. He could only watch, helpless, as you curled up on the cold kitchen floor, your hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt, your face buried in your knees.

Dean’s own breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Tears blurred his vision, and he wiped angrily at his eyes, the frustration and pain of seeing you like this overwhelming him. His heart ached with every sound of your sobs, each one a reminder of the hurt he had caused and the lives he had irrevocably changed.

“God damn it,” Dean muttered under his breath, his voice cracking as he struggled to keep his composure. “Don’t do this. Please…”

He felt a surge of anger toward himself, toward everything that had brought him to this point. How had it come to this? How had he ended up as the specter of your happiness, only able to watch as you fell apart? He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but all he could do was stand there, a silent witness to your suffering.

Through the window, he saw you push yourself into a sitting position, your head falling back against the cabinets as your cries gradually subsided into soft, ragged breaths. The sight of you so vulnerable, so broken, tore at him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Every sob, every shudder, was a dagger to his heart, each one a reminder of how deeply he had failed you.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered to himself, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t you dare.”

He paced restlessly beside the car, his hands balled into fists, the pain of being so close and yet so far from you eating away at him. His anger, his frustration, his guilt—they all swirled together in a tumultuous storm within him, threatening to drown him in their intensity. But beneath it all, there was a deep, aching love that refused to be silenced.

He could still remember the way your eyes had shone with hope and trust, the way you’d looked at him as if he were the answer to everything. And now, here he was, a ghost of that hope, a shadow of the man he used to be, unable to offer you anything but his silent grief.

The minutes stretched on, and as the night deepened, Dean’s thoughts grew darker. He hated that he was causing you this pain. He hated that his absence had left a void so deep that it had brought you to tears on your kitchen floor. His whole being was consumed by regret and sorrow, the realization that he had pushed you into this place where you felt so utterly alone.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice breaking as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you through the pain, to promise you that everything would be alright. But he knew he couldn’t. Not like this. Not while he was still a threat, while his presence could endanger you.

He could see you slowly starting to pull yourself together, your movements slow and shaky. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, a defeated gesture that spoke volumes. It was clear that the pain wasn’t just in your heart—it was in every part of you. It was in the way you moved, the way you tried to regain your composure, the way you looked around the empty kitchen as if hoping for some sort of answer.

Dean’s heart ached with the desperate need to reach out, to somehow make things right. But he stayed where he was, his hands trembling as he fought to keep himself together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this, to know just how deeply your suffering was affecting him.

The longer he watched, the more he realized that he couldn’t stay here much longer. The weight of his own emotions, the guilt of seeing you in so much pain, was becoming unbearable. He needed to leave—to put some distance between himself and the sight of you struggling, even if it meant breaking his own heart further.

As you finally pushed yourself to your feet, shakily turning off the kitchen light, Dean took one last, lingering look. He watched as you slowly made your way out of the room, your steps heavy and slow. The sight of you so subdued, so broken, was almost too much for him to bear.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean said again, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the night. “Don’t you dare.”

He turned away from the window, the sight of your pain etched into his mind. Each step away from the house felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders, but it was replaced with a heavy burden of regret and sorrow. He got into his car, his movements automatic, as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

As he drove down the darkened streets, the tears he had fought to keep hidden finally broke free. They streamed down his face, hot and unbidden, a stark reminder of the pain he had caused and the love he still felt. The road ahead was uncertain, a dark path that mirrored the turmoil inside him.

Dean knew he couldn’t go back—not yet. Not while his presence was a danger to you. But he also knew that he couldn’t stay away forever. There would come a time when he would have to face you again, when the truth would come out, when he would have to answer for the hurt he had caused.

But for now, he drove on, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he still hoped to regain. He drove through the night, through the darkness, hoping that somewhere in the vast expanse of the world, there was a way to make things right, a way to heal the wounds he had created.

And as the miles passed beneath the wheels of his car, Dean whispered one last plea into the night, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you could hear him.

“Don’t give up on me. Please.”

The road ahead was long, and the night was dark, but Dean drove on, carrying with him the hope that someday, somehow, things would be different. That someday, he’d be able to make things right.

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[chippedshake]

I want to feel your heart beat

Johnny is eleven the first time Ponyboy sees him after his father gets drunk. Mrs Curtis tries to shoo him away but it doesn’t work, and Johnny tells her that it's fine. Ponyboy looks at him with sad eyes and traces his bruises and they fall asleep side by side, Ponyboy face up and Johnny curled up on himself. Johnny's hand rests on Ponyboy's chest and he falls asleep to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

With my hand on your chest

It becomes a twisted sort of tradition. Johnny needs something constant to ground him when he gets to the Curtis household and listening Ponyboy's heartbeat with his hand or ear pressed onto his chest is calming in a way nothing else is.

When I look into those eyes

One day, Ponyboy gets paired with a Soc girl at school and her boyfriend (with his friends) corners him afterwards to tell him exactly what'll happen if he tries anything. He gets home with wide eyes and practically shaking. Johnny takes one look at him and grabs his hand.

"Just breathe, Pony. Can you do that for me?" Johnny meets his eyes and presses his fingers on Johnny's pulse point and reminds him how to breathe.

I will know what is next

They're sitting on the cold ground with a cold body next to them, both of them on the verge of a panic attack. They've killed someone – killed someone – they're going to get the chair, lifetime in jail if they're let off easily, what are they even supposed to do?

Neither one of their heartbeats is strong, steady for the other one to calm down to. Neither one of them can be strong for the other

I am lost in something

Ponyboy doesn't need to press his hand on Johnny's chest to hear his heartbeat. The machine beside them is doing a fine job of that, of reminding him that Johnny's still alive.

For now.

That has no way out

Dally's hitting the hospital wall and Ponyboy just might cry and he has to stay gold, whatever that means, and – oh god, he has to tell the gang, doesn't he? He doesn't know where to start and there's no heartbeat to ground him, to show him a rhythm that isn't the blood rushing through his ears and his erratic breaths.

Darry pulls him into a hug when he gets home and he presses his ear against his chest but his heartbeat isn't Johnny's, and he can't pretend it is even if he screws his eyes shut and imagines Johnny beside him.

It hurts but this is the last song that I write

"We are gathered here in memory of Johnny Cade."

[thinkinginpen]

Unexpected Company Part 2

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? And two in one hour? Damn. pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.6k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn. Next thing you knew he was lecturing your ex on how to treat a girl right.

You reluctantly followed your ex as he led you away from the others. He steered you to a quiet corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the party. His expression was cold and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance. You knew what he was talking about, but playing dumb seemed like your best bet at this point.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "You show up with some old dude in tow and act like he's your boyfriend? Don't try to play dumb with me, I know it's bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit," you said defensively. "He really is my boyfriend."

Your ex rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you're dating some old geezer?"

"Yes, I do," you retorted. "What, are you jealous or something?"

He sneered, clearly unconvinced. "Jealous? Of a fossil? Fat chance. No, I just want to know what kind of game you're playing here."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated by his tone. "I'm not playing any game. I'm dating him, and that's it."

He let out a hollow laugh. "Okay, fine. Say I believe you. How did that even happen? How'd you end up with some old man instead of me?"

You hesitated, not sure how to answer that. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him the truth - that the only reason you were pretending to be in a relationship with Logan was to get under his skin.

You took a deep breath and decided to stick with the same cover story you'd used earlier. "It just happened, I guess. We clicked."

He snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you just randomly met this guy and started dating him? I don't buy it."

Your frustration was growing. How dare he question the validity of your relationship, even if he was right?

"Believe whatever you want," you said, crossing your arms. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm dating him, and he's better than you in every way."

Your ex's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenching. "Oh, so now you're gonna pull that crap? You honestly think this guy is better than me?"

He stepped closer to you, looming over you. "You're really gonna choose an old man over me?"

You didn't back down, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. "Yes, I am. He's more mature than you, and treats me a lot better."

Your ex scoffed. "Yeah, maybe because he's been alive longer than my grandparents. You think he'll be able to keep up with you in a couple years?"

"Better than you can," you shot back. "At least he's still active. He works out, he can do stuff. What've you been doing every day since we broke up? Playing video games and eating pizza rolls?"

He bristled, clearly insulted. "That's not all I do!"

"Oh really? What else do you do?" you asked, feigning curiosity. "I mean, you spend a lot of time on the couch. I'm sure you got up from there at some point."

He clenched his jaw, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "That's not the point!" he snapped. "The point is that there's no way you're really dating this old dude. You're just trying to make me jealous, right? That's it, isn't it?"

You felt a flicker of satisfaction as he grew more agitated. "No, I'm really dating him."

He gritted his teeth. "No way. Prove it."

"Prove it?" you repeated, surprised by the request. "How am I supposed to prove it to you?"

Your ex rolled his eyes. "I don't know, kiss him or something."

You nearly choked at the sudden request. "Wh-what? You want me to kiss him? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"Why not?" he sneered. "If you're really dating him, it should be easy, right?"

You felt a pang of panic mixed with irritation as he challenged you. You glanced over at Logan, who was still standing calmly across the room, mingling with other people at the party.

Your ex chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "See, you can't do it. You're bluffing, and you know it. You're just using this old guy as a prop to make me jealous, and I'm not falling for it."

You gritted your teeth, feeling a wave of anger and determination wash over you. He was right about one thing - you weren't really dating Logan, at least not in the way he meant. But the way he was demeaning Logan… no matter his age, he deserved better than that.

Logan was listening intently to a conversation with one of the nearby families when he suddenly heard the heated argument between you and your ex. His eyebrows rose, and he subtly moved to listen in.

He was surprised to hear your ex tell you to prove your relationship, but his expression darkened as he heard the other man's mocking tone.

He quickly made his way over to the pair of you, his expression stormy. As he got closer, he made himself known by grabbing your ex by the front of his shirt.

Your ex was suddenly yanked backwards, his shirt crumpling as Logan's fist closed tightly around a fistful of fabric.

He sputtered as he lost his balance, staring up at the much larger man in shock. "What the hell-"

Logan towered over him, leaning down to speak directly in his face. His tone was low and dangerous.

"I'm only going to say this once, boy. Leave the girl alone."

Your ex's expression flickered from surprise to anger. "Excuse me? You can't just-"

But before he could finish, Logan pulled him closer, his grip still tight on his shirt.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he growled. "And right now, what I'm doing is telling you to leave her alone. Understand?"

Your ex floundered, clearly stunned by the unexpected intervention. But he wasn't cowed, and he tried to pull away from Logan's grip.

"And who are you, her guardian or something?" he snapped. "You got no right to tell me what to do, old man. You don't love her-"

Logan's expression darkened further. He had clearly heard enough.

"I don't love her, huh?" he said gruffly.

Before your ex could react, he tightened his grip on his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one arm.

Your ex's eyes widened in shock and fear as he found himself slammed against the wall. The wall shook from the impact, and several people nearby turned to see what was going on.

Logan leaned in closer, his face mere inches from your ex's. "You little bastard," he growled. "You don't have any idea what it means to love her."

Your ex tried to struggle, but Logan's hold on him was too strong. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the older man's grip.

"Let- let go of me!" he gasped, his bravado faded as he stared up at Logan's angry face.

Logan's expression was stony, his eyes boring into your ex's. "Not until I'm done talking to you," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You think just because you're young that you know better than anyone else? You think you know her better than I do?"

Your ex was visibly shaken, his cocky demeanor gone in the face of Logan's angry glare.

"I- I do know her better than you," he protested weakly. "I was dating her before you came around."

"Yeah, you were," Logan said gruffly. "And you blew it. Now she's with me, and you need to learn to live with that."

He paused, then suddenly pulled your ex closer, his face a mere inch away. "You're never going to touch her again, boy. Not as long as I'm around."

Your ex's expression wavered, caught between fear and anger.

"You can't just-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a glare.

"Dare me," he said gruffly. "Go on, boy. Say what you were gonna say."

Your ex swallowed, clearly intimidated. He tried to pull away from Logan, but he was still pinned in place. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You can't just take her away from me," he muttered resentfully. "She was mine first."

"You don't own her, boy," Logan snapped, his voice hard as steel. "She's not something you can just claim like a damn trophy. She's her own damn person, and she can make her own damn decisions."

He leaned in closer, his face almost touching your ex's. "And she made the decision to ditch your sorry ass for me."

Your ex's expression darkened at the insult. "And why would she choose some old guy like you?" he shot back, his tone bitter. "What can you give her that I can't?"

Logan's glare hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I can give her a hell of a lot more than you ever did," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low growl. "I can give her stability, and respect, and loyalty. Things that you clearly didn't know how to provide."

Your ex tried again to struggle, but he was still trapped in Logan's grip. His expression darkened even further as he spat back.

"What, you think you're some kind of saint, just because you're older? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do for her."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Logan said. "And from what I can tell, you're a damn coward who couldn't even keep her happy when you had the chance."

He leaned in so close that his chest was practically pressed against your ex's. "And you think for a second that you could do better than me?"

Your ex was clearly flustered, his expression torn between anger and fear.

"I- I could give her-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a scoff.

"Yeah? What, like you could give her a future? What's your plan for the future? Keep working a minimum wage job and play video games in your mom's basement all day?"

Logan chuckled, but he was seething.

"You wanna know what it's like to treat a girl right? First rule: You take care of her. I don't just mean buy her gifts and open doors for her. I mean really take care of her. Be there for her, listen to her, show her respect and loyalty and all the other things you seem to be completely incapable of."

He looked your ex over, his expression still disapproving. "Rule two: don't act like a damn child. Don't throw temper tantrums every time something doesn't go your way, don't blame her for your problems. Have some damn respect and act like you're actually worthy of her."

Logan's expression darkened further. "And rule three: Be a damn man. Don't let the people around you walk all over you, don't let people who don't matter to you drag you down. And for the love of God, don't try to cheat on her just because you can't keep it in your damn pants."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and fierce. "And if by some chance you've managed to follow all three of those rules, then maybe - MAYBE - you might be worthy of someone like her. But let's be honest, boy. We both know you haven't managed to follow a single one."

Your ex was caught between anger and fear, his expression shifting as Logan listed off the rules for treating a girl right. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by another scoff from Logan.

"Don't try to deny it, boy. We both know you've failed at all three. You're a damn child, pretending to be a man. And until you grow the hell up, you will never be worthy of a woman like her."

With that, he finally released his hold on your ex. The younger man stumbled backwards, clearly shaken.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression softening. "Come here, darling," he said, his tone suddenly gentle.

You approached the pair, your heart racing after witnessing the intense encounter. You could sense your ex's glower as you stepped up next to Logan, who wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

He pulled you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He kept his gaze locked on your ex, his expression still stern.

"He won't be bothering you again, baby," he said gruffly.

Logan led you over to a nearby couch, his arm still around your shoulders. Most of the party seemed to have started minding their own business again, though a few people were still shooting curious glances your way.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him.

He put his other arm around you so that you were essentially squished between his broad frame and the couch cushions. He could tell that you were still a little shaken up, and he squeezed you gently, trying to reassure you.

"You alright, baby?" he asked gruffly, his voice low so that the other guests couldn't overhear.

"You can stop the act now Mr. Logan."

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. He continued to hold onto you, but turned to get a better look at your expression.

"What do you mean, hun?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

You could tell that he was playing dumb, probably to save face in front of the other guests. Your expression became a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

"You know exactly what I mean, Logan," you said. "We can stop. I think we've sold the act enough by now."

Logan's expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. He glanced around and confirmed that most of the party had gone back to their own conversations.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "You sure about that, baby?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, I'm sure," you reassured him. "I think we've put on enough of a show. No need to keep this going any longer."

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on you. "Well, I don't mind keeping it going a little longer," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm enjoying having you like this."

You sighed, but couldn't help the tingle of heat that ran through you at his words. "Stop it," you said, trying to sound stern despite your growing arousal. "We're in a room full of people, remember?"

Logan chuckled at your protests, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed in his grip.

"C'mon pretty girl, for Christmas' sake please can we keep this going?" he pleaded, his voice low and coaxing.

You fought to keep a straight face, trying not to let his words get to you. But it was difficult, especially with the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I thought the point of this was to make my ex jealous," you reminded him, trying to sound more stern than you felt.

He squeezed you tighter, his expression turning smug. "Yeah, it was," he said, his voice a low rumble. "and we've done a damn good job of that. But now that I've got you all to myself, I'm not ready to let go just yet."

Logan loosened his embrace slightly, allowing you a bit more breathing room.

"Honey," he said, his tone suddenly more polite. "Would you mind grabbing us some food?"

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change in tone. But you composed yourself quickly and nodded.

"Sure, I can do that," you said, rising from the couch. "What do you want me to bring back?"

Logan smiled, pleased by your response. "Surprise me," he said. "Oh and how about some of those cookies you and your mother baked?"

You chuckled, amused by his request. "You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" you teased, as you made your way towards the buffet table.

Logan watched you as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your figure. His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared among the crowd, at which point he settled back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face.

The party continued around him, but his thoughts were focused on you. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of possessiveness. He had played the role of your boyfriend for the evening, and it seemed like he had done a pretty damn good job of it.

As Logan sat on the couch, waiting for you to return, he couldn't help but reflect on how the evening had started. He thought back to just hours earlier when he had been sitting alone, feeling grumpy and wishing he was anywhere else.

Then you had appeared, bringing him a plate of cookies that you had baked yourself. He had been hesitant at first, but the delicious treats had quickly won him over.

He recalled the conversations you had had once you had sat down. He had initially intended to brush you off and get back to his brooding, but he had found that he couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. Instead, he had ended up engaged in a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, and before he knew it, the hour was getting late.

You returned to the couch, your arms laden with food for both of you. You noticed that Logan was deep in thought, and he was visibly startled when you put the food down on the coffee table.

"You spaced out there, old man," you teased, gesturing for him to grab some food.

He chuckled, still slightly disoriented from his musings. "Sorry baby, got lost in thought there," he said, shaking his head.

He perked up when he saw the cookies you had brought back, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you remembered."

You chuckled, watching as he eagerly reached for the cookies. "Of course I did," you said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"I figured you could use a little comfort food after dealing with my ex," you added, taking a bite of your own food.

Logan grunted in agreement, already stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Your ex's a damn fool," he said, his voice muffled through the food. "He'll never be good enough for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his assessment. "And you are?" you asked teasingly, poking him in the side.

Logan chuckled, swatting at your hand. "Hey now, watch it. You're gonna make me choke."

He finished his bite of cookie, then turned to look at you dead in the eye. "And to answer your question, hell yes I'd be good enough for you," he said, his tone serious.

You were surprised by his sudden shift in tone, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. You fumbled for a response for a few seconds before finally managing to gather your thoughts.

"You're awfully confident, old man," you said, trying to mask the flutter in your chest.

Logan chuckled at your response, clearly amused by your attempts to hide your reaction to his declaration. He continued to eat his food and the cookies, glancing over at you between bites.

You did the same, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you silently ate.

The room was filled with the sounds of the ongoing party, but the two of you were mostly silent as you ate. Every so often, Logan would steal a glance at you, his eyes fixed on your lips as you chewed.

You glanced over at Logan, noticing a small spot of food stuck in his beard. It was a bit distracting, and you couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"You've got something on your face," you said, reaching over and gently swiping the food from his beard.

Logan froze as your fingers touched his beard, and for a moment the two of you just sat there, frozen in the intimate moment. Your fingers lingered in his beard, tracing the length of it and feeling the coarse texture.

And then, almost against his will, Logan found himself tipping his head closer to yours. His eyes met yours, and his expression darkened with desire.

You became aware of his lips drawing ever closer to yours, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers were still in his beard, as if frozen in place. Your whole world seemed to have narrowed to the two of you in that instant, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration. But then something seemed to snap, and the kiss deepened. Logan reached up to cup your face in his hands, pulling you closer as he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You found yourself responding eagerly, your fingers tangling in his beard. The kiss was intense, and it felt like the whole world had vanished around you, leaving just the two of you. Your heart raced as his hands held your face in place, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in the kiss. His beard tickled your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you even closer. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt as you kissed deeper.

Logan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he sucked in a gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, and his expression was still darkened with desire.

He nodded towards your ex, who was watching and seething from across the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Merry Christmas, bubba."

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Part 1 Part 2

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