#he gives something like a gallery feature in the game I suppose?

[kettouryuujin]

Information and Realization

[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art's Pokerus AU.]

When the group returned to Jubilife Village, Lian had gone with the Medical Corps to check up on Lord Kleavor. The Pikachu looked like he wished he’d gone with the Warden, but his Dewott teammate was over the moon. 

Kamado? He was considering getting something hard. “So... let me get this straight. You’re that girl’s superior?”

“No! I am Emmet. I help teach Link Moves. I also run the Illusion Express, however it is not at this station currently.” Sinnoh, what was with this guy? Out of the corner of his eye, the Snorlax saw the Water-type snicker. She... did say this Zoroark was eccentric, but apparently she had understated matters. Especially with that weird smile of his (Seriously, how could any ‘mon hold a grin that large for so long?) and the Illusion of dark fur. Well. At least he seemed less focused on stealth... honestly it was only the girl’s exuberance that convinced the Security Corps to let this “Emmutt” in. If Kamado had his way, this Zoroark would be barred entry. Ugh. Time to interrogate. “...Right. And do you have any experiences with these distortions?” The vulpine gave a confused head-tilt - and this guy was an expert?

Apparently, the otter thought so, enough that she had the gall to correct the Commander, saying “distortions” meant “Mystery Dungeons”. At least it seemed to help this guy get his thoughts straight. “OH! Yes! I am Emmet.” Why did he say that so darn often? “My brother and I were an exploration team before he...” Oh brother, he was choking up. The slumping and tearing up was a dead giveaway, even if the lack of words wasn’t.

“Can we cut the sap and keep moving here?!?”

The white-furred ‘mon shuddered and nodded, wiping away tears as he stood ramrod straight. “Ah. Yes. I was derailing...thank you, sir.” Well, at least the weirdo was grateful (twitch). “Re-railing now. Yes. I am Emmet. Whilst in a team, we delved many a Dungeon, oftentimes reaching the bottoms.” Twitchtwitch. “We would also set up Illusion Express stations. But you wish to know if I can assist with your current issue? Sadly my help will be limited.” What. “I am Emmet. I always delved...in a team. Delving outside my old team will inevitably result in catastrophic derailing.” Twitcha-twitch twitch. Ugh, this guy would NOT stay still...

...And he referred to his choking up earlier as “derailing” didn’t he? Oh Sinnoh, his “limiting” is a damn coping mechanism. “However, I will gladly provide advice and coaching. The Express cannot run without both cabs, however.” A blink and a nod (And some more twitching). “I am Emmet. I am an Express Master. I like Team Battles. I like combinations of multiple Pokemon working together. I like multiple moves in synchronicity with each other. I like winning more than anything else, other than my brother. But only winning a serious battle. If a battle is not serious, it is not fun.” ...so he’s a nutjob who takes things seriously. And twitches a lot. Joy. “I will establish my station wherever I am allowed to. Please visit me if you seek practice. Especially with Link Moves. Or if you would wish to battle me. Be warned, I am a verrry tough opponent.”

And with that, the Zoroark turned and marched out, moving with surprising regularity. One-two-one-two, almost like a military march - albeit with arms swinging past his chest. Well. He’s got SOME sort of decorum...”Erm, Sir? Where to next?” And the brat takes his focus from the one semi-decent point of that damn spectral vulpine.

“...Next? I don’t freaking know. I know the original plan was to get Sabi first, but with that ‘expert’ here I don’t want to be making any calls.”

And then the rat spoke up. “Sir, with all due respect? I don’t believe Mr. Emmet is...qualified, to make any decisions regarding where we go next. Outside of his coping mechanisms, we know very little about what the other Dungeons are like.” And now he’s using the wrong terminology...Kamado couldn’t help but let out the sigh of the long-suffering.

“Fine. I still don’t care where you go next, so... Just go do what you want to do.” The Commander waved the pair off, groaning as he looked over the paperwork. The...sloppily made paperwork. Ah, these transformations had just made things so much more annoying.

----

Lord Kleavor sighed, sitting cross-legged as he thought. Like his Warden, he remembered little since he had apparently gone insane. However, there were small flashes of memory - ones that were coincidentally connected to the scent of his favorite tangy plump beans. And in them he could recall, through a haze of rage, his Warden, alongside the two Survey Corps members, striking at him.

*skaaaa-ick!*

The Bug/Rock-type understood why they had done so. He was…not himself, at the time, and they were bringing him back from the depths of frenzy. And he was grateful for that.

*skaaaa-ick!* *skaaaa-ick!*

He was more concerned about how quickly he had fallen, though. It was as if his mind warped alongside the Fieldlands themselves, burying higher thought under rage and instinct as his home turned into a prison. *skaaaa-ick!* *thik* *thik* *thik* *thik*

There was no doubt his fellow Nobles had suffered the same fate, and the Lord was certain that if he left the village again, he would easily lose himself again. It was not safe out there. Not for any Noble.

*thikthikthikthik*

Their only hope was that the Survey Corps and his Warden could get through to his fellow Nobles, and their Wardens. After that, well…

That was the future. Not now.

*thik* *thik*

The Lord stood and backed away, smiling imperceptibly. On a table in front of him was a wooden statuette, depicting his Warden in his current state, hurling one of those distance offerings through the air. A fitting monument to Warden Lian’s actions.

He shook the wood chips off before gently picking his axe-work up, taking slow, measured steps to where he knew his Warden was resting. Hopefully he would appreciate this gift.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 1

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Your art is finally put on display at a local gallery, and Klaus has a vested interest in it.

Warnings: Klaus Being Klaus, No Personal Space, Alcohol, Flirting, Almost Kisses, Art Interpretation, Dark Themes

Word Count: 1.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Your first art show in New Orleans isn’t nearly as extravagant as you thought it would be, despite the small jazz band in the corner and the free champagne being served at the door. The jubilant music seems to fade off into the distance as you stand just a few feet away from one of your pieces, silently stalking the patrons as they walk by and observe it, muttering amongst themselves. You try to hone in on what they’re saying about your work, about how it makes them feel, or if they’ve caught onto any messages you’ve hidden in your mixed medium on canvas. So far it’s just been a mixture of silence and solitary comments like “interesting” or “hmm” as the glass of champagne warms to room temperature in your hand.

“Which one’s yours?” A man’s eloquent voice pulls you from your anxious thoughts, forcing you to look over at his delicately handsome face as he walks toward you with a confidence that could rival royalty.

“Huh?” You take a sip of your lukewarm champagne in order to gain some liquid courage to engage with this gorgeous man who seemed to appear out of thin air.

“I’d recognize that look anywhere,” he starts, touching one of the sculptures he clearly wasn’t supposed to. “Will they like it? Will they understand it? But most importantly, will they buy it?”

“That obvious, huh?” You take another sip, letting the bubbles take their time to crinkle your nose as the rest of the carbonation slowly fizzles out.

“Painfully, I’m afraid.” That smirk of his warms into a coy smile as he takes a step toward you, his own glass of champagne nearly empty. “Yours isn’t the landscape with the sailboat, no… those waters look far too calm for you.” He stands next to you and continues to guess, letting his fresh clean scent surround you as hints of a bergamont settle into the air. “Not the still life either, you don’t strike me as someone who focuses on something as mundane as coffee and beignets.” He pauses and looks at you briefly, taking in your features. “No, a work of art from your hands has to contain something different, something much… darker.”

“And what makes you think that?” You chide in return, enjoying this little game he’s created for himself. “Maybe I love coffee and beignets.”

“Well, darling, who doesn’t? But that’s not why you became an artist, now is it?” He raises his eyebrows, giving you a chance to notice the hints of green and gold in his blue eyes.

He was good, you’ll give him that.

“My money’s on the portrait of the faceless woman drenched in blood.” His tone drops to the level of darkness he previously described as he steps behind you, his voice like butter as it melts down each vertebrae of your spine. “It’s beautiful, really; the way you captured the themes of the tortured and macabre while still maintaining an intimate beauty of the feminine experience. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

His change in tambre and location freezes you in place, forcing you to look at your own painting through his eyes as he hovers behind you, making you shiver with the anticipation of his intentions. The fact that you’ve allowed him to get this close so fast makes you wrestle with the idea that you may already desire this stranger based on nothing more than the words he’s chosen to speak with that velvety voice of his. Are you that subject to flattery? That desperate for validation? Longing that deeply for some level of intimate connection? Perhaps you are...

After what seems like an eternity of moral gymnastics, you no longer resist the temptation to turn toward him as he guesses correctly, noting the triumphant look on his face as your lips linger mere inches away from his. You barely notice the still breath that remains inside your lungs, expanding your rib cage for far too long as you stare at his plump lips, taking heed of the single droplet of champagne that rests on them.

“And what makes you such an expert on the feminine experience?” You manage to ask as he allows you to stare at him a little bit longer before answering your question.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m merely a curious third party who’s invested in the local artists that my charitable donations help support.” He confesses with a step back.

“You’re a benefactor?” You don’t mean to sound so judgmental, but he doesn’t exactly look like most of the ancient relics who usually pour money into the city. If you’re being honest, he looks more like one of the musicians you’d find on the street corner playing a cover of ‘Wonderwall’ on guitar for tips.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, love, we come in all shapes and sizes.” He laughs, looking you up and down while the shock of his financial status slowly begins to wear off. “Now, tell me, was I right? Is that your painting?”

“Maybe.” You cross her arms over your chest, trying your best to resist his evident charms. “But you already knew that, being a benefactor and all; that’s cheating.”

“Cheating is such a harsh word. I merely used my astute powers of observation to put two and two together.” He casually places his hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze in order to keep you near. “Surely, you can’t fault me for that.”

“I suppose not.” Your heart races at his sudden touch, the gleam in his eyes barely hiding the raging fire behind them. He’s going to be trouble, you can already tell. “Do you flirt like this with every new artist you meet?”

“Just the morbidly disturbed ones that I find deeply enchanting.” His strange compliment is oddly personal, hinting that he might know a little bit more about you than he’s currently letting on.

“You think I’m morbidly disturbed?”

He gives you a knowing look.

“Oh, it’s all over the canvas, love. It doesn’t take an expert to notice the hurried brush strokes in the busy background, the aggression with which you plastered the feminist news clippings together contrasted against the time you took to purposefully pour the viscous, slow drip of blood on it until it’s nearly spilling onto the floor.” He closes the gap between you, his hand now in your hair.

You swallow hard as he fishes around in your psyche for an accurate interpretation of your work, his proximity nearly turning your insides to quicksand as his cologne dizzies you on the spot. Good god, he’s beautiful.

“You know there are other ways of releasing all that pent up rage and aggression… all that passion.” He leans in so that his lips ghost over your cheek as it blushes against his stubble. “Although they aren’t quite as lucrative as this.”

“And what would those be?” You ask coyly, eagerly daring him to show you.

But instead of going in further for a demonstration, he leans back with a satisfied grin, as if he’s already gotten everything he wants from you at that moment. He grabs a pen from a nearby table and takes your hand, writing his phone number on your palm. “Find me when you feel like it gets to be too much, when all those emotions make you feel as if you’re absolutely about to burst.”

[buttclench-ryugazaki]

tgaa 1 + 2 final rambling notes

the neutral/negative:

did not like some of the solutions in the cross examination phase because i could easily predict what the prosecution's damning rebuttal would be, meaning the contradiction felt weak even as i presented it. and that will happen in every single aa game without fail, i just felt like it happened too frequently to me, personally. it works for 1-3 where defending an obviously guilty client is supposed to feel shitty and like you're going insane that he isn't being caught, but not so much when you wanna feel smart and triumphant (before immediately getting knocked down again) y'know

dance of deduction phases are stylistically very cool but far, far too easy. i never failed one once because all it is is playing i-spy with 360 degree camera movement and a limited number of possible answers. i enjoy sholmes being insane, but it gets pretty tiresome after a while because there is no challenge whatsoever

cross examining multiple witnesses and pressing ones based on how they react to others: a mechanic that apparently rolled over from PL vs PW. i thought there would be more of a challenge here. the sound cue is VERY OBVIOUS. i assumed their reactions would be more subtle and you would actively have to search for them (case 1-5 with gregson and milverton whispering amongst themselves is what i'd had in mind), but nope. i also think that not every reaction press should have been moment of plot advancement, as 100% of them are. throw in some red herrings for the player to make them think they've found something important at first and burst their bubble. but DON'T penalize because that would be too frustrating, reward them with funny dialogue at least

jury summation phase: i thought i didn't mind doing them until 2-4/5 came around and i found myself relieved that i didn't have to contend with the jury, which is intentionally supposed to be exasperating in how thoughtless its decision-making is (aside from 2-3 with the magician and scientist jurors who actually have some valuable insight). probably the best of the new gameplay phases mechanically, but i don't think i care for the execution. ryunosuke knows, the prosecution knows, you the player know that you're just stalling for time by making the whole trial go on a tangent. i applaud the way reinforces how desperate it feels to flimsily grasp at straws ("we can't trust shamspeare's testimony because he's stealing gas from his cheapskate landlord and thus a liar") but it does annoy me the player to not directly be working towards getting a greater picture of the mystery

examining evidence is required to advance the plot more frequently than in prior games. before, the player would get some flavor text to give them hints about how the evidence should be presented, but it doesn't necessarily trigger anything in the game's code. it doesn't bother me because because i like to poke and prod, thus i examine (mostly) everything. but for others this could be really frustrating if you know why the evidence is contradictory, without examining. a happy medium would be that examining still updates the description but the evidence itself is viable even if you hadn't examined it (for certain pieces, not all) 5a. at the end of 2-5 when you're supposed to present klint's last will and testament, i presented the asogi sword instead because it told me the will was inside. i forgot to examine it and get the note out first. in classic aa, i think my answer would have been the correct one. that's an example of when i think i should have been given some leeway

they give me "gallery" feature in "extra contents" but it does not lead to a menu of CGs and animated cutscenes? why? dual destinies has that feature. it's a must by the standards any modern visual novel game

positives:

the twists, they're good. not all of them are foreshadowed that well or at all, but i enjoy them regardless. things like professor mikotoba turning out to be sholmes' actual partner and kazuma dad being the professor, because we don't even really learn about kazuma's father until the very moment it's revealed. (i predicted that klint was iris's birth father but not because of any informed reasoning; we didn't know he was married until 2-5 and it's not like both her being born and him dying 10 years ago necessitates a relation). these things can still be set up as future plot points without necessarily foreshadowing who is involved

they don't try to catch you off-guard with plot events like, defending van zieks. it's not just a rehash of turnabout goodbyes. you knew it was going to happen eventually; the reaper of the bailey's reputation as a possible murderer constantly comes up, and you know he must be innocent. it's still a decent twist and a good way to conclude the plot line they introduced so early, but the vibe i get is that they didn't try to act like what they were doing was crazy and unprecedented, because a plot line doesn't have to be for it to be good

they really made the world of this game so much bigger, by setting it in two countries, involving international british-japanese relations and politics, the assassination conspiracy and deeper, given the talk of xenophobia, industrialization, classism, crime, life in the city, corruption within the police and the courts, god there's so much. intentionally or unintentionally, ace attorney has always been about the law itself and how it should be utilized to protect the innocent/find the truth, and how it frequently fails to do just that. aa-verse 1900s britain isn't affected by the dystopian, 99% conviction rate and expedited 3-day trials like 2016 japanifornia, but it does have its own legal issues to contend with and i like how they manifested

pacing the hugeness of this plot over the course of two full games was a good call. we know it's possible to do a full arc in 4 to 5 cases but they said, nah. we're going bigger. and not doing THAT THING!!!! aa games are so aggravating for where they don't reference past games directly, only through vague allusion. game 2 does not dare pretend that it's not a sequel; who would be the poor idiot playing Resolve without having played Adventures? (i did comment about how Resolve still gave me a mostly unskippable tutorial, which is just plain silly) but anyway i do understand why japanese fans were so incensed over game 1 ending on a cliffhanger with no official word of a sequel. the game is feels incomplete without Resolve. they shouldn't have reviewbombed it, because it was a good game, but i understand. it's a duology through and through

the characters. i don't think there's a single one i actively dislike, and if i did i've forgotten them. i was very charmed playing as ryunosuke; he's a mess and master of deadpan like his descendant but perhaps... cuter? more deliberately written as naive and ignorant, naturally because he's not actually a law student. and he's afraid of ghosts and aliens. i enjoy that he's more willing to crack jokes to contrast susato playing the straight man, who is the most serious and informed of all the teen girl assistants. she might even be my favorite, now! aa is such a big franchise with too many characters to count, so it's difficult not to view these characters in comparison to their predecessors. but i think they do a good job making the dna of these characters apparent (kazuma and van zieks both having shades of edgeworth, for example) without making me feel like i'm getting the same archetype and the same guy over and over again

[thisisarcanereverie]

A Distraction (DARK! Moon Knight x Reader) the Knight and the Pawn Series

A/N: SooooooOooooOOOOooo....This is a long one.

like 11 pages, and a grand total of 4.8k words......I have no self restraint when it comes to smut anymore it's insane.

If you guys caught my posts earlier today you will know that this chapter contains some serious ass smut. Chapter warnings are below, but I just want to take a moment and thank you guys for all the love and support you've shown this series. We're almost through with it about two or three more chapters left before the series is done. I do encourage you guys to interact a lot with this, it gives me more motivation than you think! Each reply or reblog with feedback literally fuels me to write more, so thank you!

MINORS DNI!!

WARNINGS: Dark themes, Smut, P in V sex, choking (m recieving), oral (f recieving), praise kink (m and f) hella hate sex (but also it's kinda tender???) dark smutty marc (he's one hell of a warning) slightly subby Marc (a warning)

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

“God! that was awful!” You said as you grabbed the towel from your friend's hand, stuffing down the butterflies in your stomach as his eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth turned upward as the deep sound of his laughter filled the room. You and Marc had gotten pretty bored and had run out of movies to binge ages ago, so like any other people your age did when there wasn’t any tv to watch and you were with your best friend, you decided to play a stupid game. The game you guys chose happened to be an old favorite of Marc’s. 

Truth or Dare. 

“Well it wasn’t supposed to be pleasant,” Marc said as though he didn’t just dare you to jump into the freezing creek in front of the cabin, “where would the fun be in that.” 

“Haha” You sarcastically laughed, drying your hair with the towel he provided, “So much fun. Now if you excuse me I have to change clothes before I die of hypothermia,” You say as you make your way to your room before you turn back suddenly, “and don’t you dare fall asleep before I’m done it’s my turn pretty boy!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, starlight!” You heard Marc say. You quickly changed out of the freezing wet clothes, dried yourself off a little more before putting on the warmest clothes you had packed. A light hoodie and sweatpants. You gathered the wet clothes to hang outside to air dry. By the time you have completed this task, you notice Marc sitting in the nook by the window. Moonlight in his dark hair and a somber, far off look in his eyes. He looked like something from a painting in an art gallery somewhere, something that people went up to and got feeling from because it reminded them of someone or something or a certain point in their life. You always knew Marc was attractive, but right now to you he was more. He almost looked impossible to touch, otherwise he would evaporate into thin air, a mirage. 

You shake your head of those weird thoughts before joining him by the nook, he didn’t seem to notice you until you let out a sigh as you followed his gaze into the still waters. 

“One day I want to visit the ocean,” Marc said,  you nodded in acknowledgement. 

“That sounds nice,” you replied, “feeling the sand on your feet, watching the moon pull the tide in and out, or even watching the sun set and shine on the waters.”

“I’d like it if you were there with me,” Marc said, “to see the ocean and feel the sand and other crap like that.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’d like that too.” For a while silence settled between you, your gaze shifting occasionally from the waters in front of you to your curly haired best friend. You studied the way his jaw clenched and the tapping of his index finger. You studied each facial feature of his and just admired him. Though you would never admit it, whether that was from denial or fear you were unsure. 

“Truth or Dare,” You say finally, keeping your eyes on him. Marc let out a small sigh after being broken out of his thoughts and he looked at you. 

“Truth.” He answered, not really thinking it through. 

“What were you just thinking about?” You could see the light flush on his cheeks and his eyes darted slightly. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me what you were thinking about just now.” You insisted. 

“You really want to know?” Marc asked. 

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Probably.” 

There was a few seconds of hesitation before he dropped his shoulders and looked away, attempting to hide the glow of blush rising on his cheeks. 

“I was thinking about how I’m probably going to be the only virgin in the marines.” You could tell from his tone he was trying to play it off as a small joke, something to laugh off. You don’t know what possessed you, you didn’t know if it was because of the moon light in his hair, the reflection of the water in his eyes, the intoxicating smell of cedar, smoke, and rain that always seemed to linger on him., or maybe it was because he was Marc, your Marc and your Marc always made you feel safe with him. But you didn’t laugh and as you slid closer to him, you could feel your pulse raise a little bit.  

“Y’know… it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What doesn’t have to be that way?”

“You being the only virgin in the marines.” 

“Oh what you’re going to join too?”

“No,” You said simply, suddenly the air became thick as that word lingered in the air, the tension became palpable as Marc’s eyes drifted from the water to your face. You could feel him studying you, looking for any trace of mischief or any indication that you didn’t really mean what you said, that maybe he was reading the situation wrong. But he wasn’t, he could see the serious nature of the question in your eyes. You could see his gaze change from studious to cautious, his eyes darken as he drank you in. 

“Care to elaborate,” Marc said as he placed a hand on your knee tentatively, as though he were testing the waters. Making sure he wasn’t reading the situation wrong and that he wasn’t putting your friendship on the line for something he misread. 

“I’m saying you don’t have to be a virgin,” You said, “That can change.” You feel his hand, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric, travel upward before resting on your mid thigh, “I can change that.” 

“Are you sure?” You could sense the slight tremor in his voice, “wouldn’t this change everything?”

“Not unless we let it,” You said, your hand delicately trailing up his arm, “if I’m honest, I would rather lose it to you rather than some dude who I’ll have nothing to do with in five years. But we don’t have to, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

“I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable,” Marc said, his hand trailing your hip as he leaned in closer to you, “I feel the same way.” 

“Then shut up and kiss me, pretty boy.” 

And with that his lips crashed clumily into yours, however in its own way it was soft and gentle. Later on you would look back on this kiss and pinpoint this was the moment when you knew, deep in your bones you knew as his hands explored you and you explored him, that you loved him. That no matter what he did, no matter how much he had hurt you. 

Some part of you will always love him. 

Even if you don’t always want to. 

—

Today was the day, the day you would attempt to escape. 

Over the course of a few days you tried different, covert methods of knocking Marc unconscious. You tried a blend of various teas that could knock an elephant out. 

You tried working him out to exhaustion under the guise of exercise.  

You tried a combination of both. 

You were running out of time, today was the day and you still had no idea how to knock him flat out. And honestly the fact that the tea nor the rigorous exercise made little to no impact on him worried you, you figured some part of that was just one of the benefits of khnoshu’s avatar. You have to be in pique physical condition in that line of work. 

But Khonshu also depends on his avatar to be a bit of a mess on the inside in order to manipulate them to his whim. Which always unsettled you, but now you might be able to use it to your advantage. 

Only you wanted to save that for a last resort. 

The only time you remembered Marc sleeping deeply was at that cabin that night. When in the afterglow his head was on your chest and he just listened to your heart beat and your hands combed through his hair. That night he was practically comatose for a solid eight hours, you couldn’t wake him if you tried, and you did. You assume it had something to do with the comfort of it all. 

You didn’t want to use that precious memory, however twisted it all was now, and change it into a tool. But what other choice did you have, what choice did he leave you?

At least this is what you told yourself. 

You knew he would probably be suspicious if you just walked up and had your way with him. And you can’t find it in yourself to set up a romantic scene either. 

It was midday and you were thinking of how to go about it, looking out at the city during the rain. It always rained in London. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice him come in. 

“Truth or Dare?”

Your mind was thrown back to that night as you whip your head in his direction. He was sitting beside you, his gaze focused outside. When he turns his head that way you can almost see him again, you can almost see your Marc in there, with the light in his hair 

You stuff down those memories and butterflies deep inside you as you huff. 

“That is a game for children.” 

“It was our game.” Marc replied coolly. 

“No,” You said, “it used to be our game.” you paused, “we’re no longer the same people we were when we last played it.” 

“Yes we are,” Marc said, holding onto your hand, “I’m still pining after you like a schoolboy and you’re still trying to convince yourself that you don’t love me.” 

“Will you stop,” you grit through your teeth as you move your head to look at him, your eyes boring holes into him, “Will you stop telling me what I feel and what I don’t.”

“Only when you stop lying to yourself.” 

You got up to leave, you were almost to the door, your mind fogged with emotion when you felt your hand being tugged back firmly, you turned your head to fight back but you were shocked by how close his face was to you. Your breathing stopped for a moment as you took him in, his smell, the way his curls fell over his face framing his eyes, how stubble had begun to grow on him giving his face some newfound dimension. For a moment you stand there, both of you breathing heavily, your heart beating rapidly against your chest and your mind stopped functioning, you were so close to each other your noses brushed against the other. One move would be all it took to close the gap, to connect your lips. A mere half an inch away. 

“Tell me,” Marc said, his voice low and barely above a whisper, “tell me you don’t want me.” Your muddled brain barely registered the sentence, when you didn’t respond quickly he leaned toward your neck, you could feel him inhaling the scent of your perfume and body wash, you moved your neck to give him better access, begging for his lips on your neck but did no such thing as his hand moved to cradle your face in his. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away.” 

You said nothing, you tried to justify it by telling yourself you needed him, you needed to let this happen so you could escape. 

You knew it was all lies. 

His fingers gently massaged into your scalp, you practically melted into his touch, every nerve was on fire and he had yet to kiss you. 

The rotten bastard. 

“I hate you,” You say as your hands fists themselves in his shirt and crush his lips on yours. It was all tongue and teeth, you molded your lips against his in this fiery battle of mind and body. 

“I hate you.” You repeat as you pull him against you, his hands moving from your face to grip your hips firmly, You could feel him start to maneuver you, slowly walking you back towards the nearest wall. Without warning, you let out a little yelp as Marc effortlessly lifted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as Marc pinned you against the wall. The coolness of it shocked your ignited skin. His large hands then move, they give your hips a firm squeeze before trailing down your leg and caressing upward. You bite his lip mid kiss as you feel his fingers brush against the bare skin underneath your shirt, igniting a fire within you. 

“I hate you,” You lied, your words meaningless and barely above a growl. You could see it in his dark, half lidded eyes, that he didn’t believe it one bit. 

“No you don’t.” 

And with that he kissed you with much more force than before, his pillow soft lips crash onto yours with enough passion to make you woozy. Your fingers leave the collar of his shirt and move to remove yours, you separated for just a moment to remove the all too thick layer of clothing. You were about to kiss him again when he stopped you. You were about to question him when you saw it, the look of some dark desire in his eyes. A look that seemed to want to devour you piece by piece. His hands made their way up your torso, his skin raising goosebumps in their wake as your head rolled back as you felt him palm your breasts through the material of your bra, a soft moan escaped your lips as his descended on your clavicle, slowly moving down to leave open mouthed kisses on the tops of you breasts. You gripped his shoulders as he removed one hand to unhook the offending material from behind your back. It was so quick and sly you didn’t even know what he was doing until your bra was dropped to the floor below you. You were slightly impressed that he unhooked it with one hand and didn’t require any assistance. 

Honestly speaking you found it hot. 

Before you could make some snide comment, you mouth erupted with a very loud moan as his mouth practically devoured your nipple, sucking, leaving hickies, kissing, you could feel wetness pool itself in between your thighs, completely ruining your underwear as he took the pebbled nipple in between in his teeth and gave a quick tug. Your hands went from his shoulders to clench tightly in his soft curls as he repeated the same actions on your other, neglected breast. As he worked wonders on your breast you felt his hand knead the flesh of your ass and your thighs that by now you had no doubt were crushing him. 

You moved your hips experimentally against, feeling the clothed bulge grind against you had your grip in his hair tighten as a shaky, breathy moan came from you, the slight friction feeling like heaven. Meanwhile you could feel him tense as his grip on you became bruising, not that you minded. 

Experimentally again you grind yourself against him again, this time with more force. The low growl that reverberated off of him could only be described as feral as his lips left your breast as he looked at you in your eyes. His midnight eyes became impossibly darker, as the intense gaze he gave you quaked you right to your core as you became impossibly wetter. You could feel his calloused hands grip the sides of your waist firmly as he thrusted his hips up and dragged your cloth covered cunt over his clothed bulge harshly extracting a feral sound from you as electricity shot up your spine and made your head impossibly light and buzzed. Without realizing one hand went from his hair to curl itself around the base of his throat. You felt him lean into your hand as his lips descended on your neck as he repeated the harsh grinding of his hips against yours. When you felt him bite down on your shoulder, your hand instinctively squeezed around his throat, you could feel his pulse in your palm, it was fast and it quickened as you squeezed. You felt the bobbing of his adams apple and the vibrations of his groan escaped him, his eyes looking up at you as his large hand grabbed your wrist. Instead of removing your hand, he held it in place. 

“Choke me harder,” His deep voice groaned, “make me see stars, starlight.” 

You complied. 

Your hands grip harshly at his throat, squeezing enough for breathing to become more difficult as he hooks his hands under your ass as he carries you to your shared room. His eyes never leave yours and yours don’t leave him. Even as you're leaving kisses and bites along his lips and his jaw he somehow manages to stumble into your room. It’s only then does he let your feet touch the floor. 

He parts from you only a second, you whine at the loss of contact but quickly shut up as you watch as he practically tore his shirt off of him. You take a moment to admire him, the muscles that ripple and move, the way his skin glowed as his dark curls frame his face as his stubble gave his face more structure. It wasn’t until he fell on his knees in front of you, that you thought he looked all too much like a fallen angel. With a sinful glow to his skin and a simple look of repentance in his eyes. 

You felt powerful as Marc fell to his knees in front of you, his touch light and slow, savoring each inch you were willing to give him as his fingers travel up from your calf to the waistband of your pants. His lips leaving a trail of open mouthed kissing from your navel slowly, agonizingly so, downward. His hands made it to the button of your pants when you placed a hand underneath his chin, forcing him to look at you. Your knees nearly gave out at the look of passion, and silent submission to your whims his eyes gave you. The rush you felt as he inflated your ego was addictive. Your thumb brushed against the bottom of his lip, your toes curled as he gave it a small, wet kiss. 

With never breaking eye contact with you he unbuttons your pants, gently lowering them before completely ridding you of them. You suck in a small intake of breath as his eyes left yours as he kissed your pussy over your already ruined panties. 

“All wet like this for me, starlight.” Marc groaned, rubbing your clothed clit with his fingers.

“Go to hell.” You groaned as he played with you, his fingers dancing over to the sides of your underwear. 

“Why would I do that when I have heaven right here?” You felt the elastic give out as he tore your underwear from your body, before you could act too shocked about it, he tore a pleasured scream from you as he dived right in. his mouth working you expertly, your hands wound themselves in his hair. He licked and sucked on that bundle of nerves, and through your haze you can see his eyes close and it looks like he was eating his favorite meal. Like if he had it his way he would be eating your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Marc guided your legs over his shoulders and before you know it, his hands was supporting your weight as he lifted you in the air once again, you didn’t know if it was because of how easily he seemed to manhandle you or the fact that his tongue was going at your slit with more vigor but you felt a new sense of arousal hit you and the coil started to wind itself up in your core. By now you were a pathetic moaning mess. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, “fuckfuckfuck oh my god right there, fuck me.”  You were barely capable of making a coherent thought let alone a sentence. You almost didn’t notice the soft sheets of your bed hitting you back, but you couldn’t even say anything because if you thought that he was enjoying himself before, he was practically drowning in you now.

Your trembling hands gripped the sheets beside you as Marc lifted your hips upward and he inserted two thick digits into your cunt. No prep, just straight in, filling you and hitting a soft spongy patch in you that made you see white. The combination of him flicking his tongue, his sucking, and the soft graze of teeth on your swollen sensitive bud and his thick, slick covered digits hitting that one spot repeatedly without mercy, and the slight beard burn that his stubble was giving you, it wasn’t long before you were practically convulsing underneath him as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had is ripped right from you. Tears pricked your eyes as you let out the most guttural scream. Your hands practically rip the sheets underneath you as every nerve is sent into overdrive. 

You were still a trembling mess when Marc ripped his fingers from you and licked them clean as though the entire lower half of his face wasn’t glistening with your slick already. 

Right in front of you. 

You could practically hear your heartbeat out your chest as his lips collided with yours, You could taste yourself on his lips and you shuddered. He pressed his forehead against you and merely basked in your afterglow with you. Your hands unclench the sheets as they ghosted downward to where he was still in his pants, you felt the front, a wet patch had developed and yet he was still so painfully hard. Again, this did wonders for your ego as merely eating you had caused him to lose control over himself. You brushed against him when he caught your wrist. Pinning it beside you. 

“You have no idea,” Marc breathed into your neck, “no idea what you do to me.” 

“Then show me,” You said using your free hand to cup his face, “I dare you.” 

The look in his eyes darken as he unpins your other hand before ridding himself of his ruined pants and underwear. Your eyes widened at his size, you don’t remember it ever being that big. But right now it was huge and throbbing, leaking precum,  you weren’t sure if he would fit. 

He rubbed himself against you, gathering whatever slick he hadn’t already lapped up, coating his thick shaft in it. He tapped the swollen head against your over sensitive clit a few times, extracting a choked moan from you before pushing in. Your hands claw at his back, nails leaving bright red streaks against his toned back as he practically bent you in half and split you open. You had never felt so full and your legs were shaking furiously. When he bottomed out he kissed the tears away from your eyes. 

“You’re so good for me starlight,” he praised, “so goddamn good and tight. I fit just right in here, don't I?” You could only dumbly nod as he started slowly thrusting, making each drag and push of his cock in you count. Making you feel the pleasurable burn as you were stretched around him. Then all at once he dragged out, only to slam himself in, you let out the loudest scream you ever have. As he did that repeatedly, his skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, his curls sticking to his forehead and his hot breath mixing with your own. Soon enough the coil began to wind again in your core, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and breathy loud moans filled the room. Marc was practically drilling into you with his brutal pace. You could feel him getting closer with you, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer as his pace became more erratic. 

“Cum in me,” you whisper in his ear as the coil threatens to burst at any minute, “cum in me please pretty boy.”

The sound of the nickname you gave him, combined with your hot breath in his ear and your tight wet heat wrapped around brought about his orgasm as he fiercely thrusted and released deep inside you, which only brought on your own electrifying, toe curling orgasm. If you thought the first one was intense, then this made you see the light. 

He collapsed on top of you, his frame shaking and quivering just as much as you. You instinctively brought your hands to gently comb through his hair as he went limp inside you. Your legs were let down from his shoulders as you both basked in the afterglow of what you had just done. You shushed him, and praised him for how good he did, calling him, pretty boy. Like you did the first time, only this time you both were a little more out of breath. You stifled a laugh as you recalled that semi awkward morning after, but then your heart hurt with how much grief you felt. You missed those people you were then. Even though you were going through immense internal turmoil over your newly realized feelings for him then, you would much rather go through that then what storm your mind was brewing. 

As you comb through his hair you can’t help but wish you could forget, forget what he did and who he’s become. Forget the past three years, like they never existed. And you knew, deep down, you couldn’t pretend like they didn’t happen forever. But right now, with how close he was to, listening to your heartbeat like a sacred prayer, you pretended like none of it never happened as you raked through his damp curls and pretended that instead of your gilded prison, you both were back at that cabin.

After all, you were good at pretending. 

—

After a few more rounds Marc was finally out. You hoped that your legs would be able to carry you where you needed to be. You slipped gently away from his grip, the soft snores that came from his figure let you know he was deep into sleep. You had to use the wall for support but you thanked god you were still able to walk well enough. You gathered the clothes you had snuck away in the bathroom, you didn’t want to wake him up, but you also didn't want to smell him when you left. So you gave yourself a small sponge bath, the rag was cool against your skin, and you hissed slightly as you cleaned your combined juices from you, the area still tender. 

You quickly changed clothes and put on your tennis shoes, they were worn but they didn’t squeak against the floor board. With a slight limp you made your way to the open door of the bedroom, you looked back one last time at his sleeping figure. The moon light in his hair gave him a halo and illuminated how peaceful his features were. Some part of you that was broken and loved him wanted to stay. It broke the piece of you that broke the first time you left. You looked at him once more before making your way to the front door.

Your hand felt the coolness of the handle when you froze, panic started to fill you as your mind raced. What if this was a test? What if Jake was lying to you, could you really trust him?

All these thoughts filled you as you held your breath as you turned the handle. Instead of a blaring alarm, a soft click was heard. You let out a shaky exhale as you opened the door just enough to slip through. After gently closing the door as quietly as possible you ran. Or at least attempted to with your limp and all. You raced down the stairwell, not trusting to take the elevator, You were exhausted but you pushed through. You remember Jake’s instructions, go out the back of the building and sure enough once you reached the ground floor the stairwell exit was right next to the back door. You pushed through the door, and for a split moment you relished the feel of the outside air on your skin. How it’s crisp bite felt and you swore you would never wear a jacket or complain about it ever again. 

You only had a few moments of peace before a familiar motorcycle stopped in front of you and handed you a helmet. 

“An old friend will be waiting downstairs to take you to a safehouse.” 

“Layla?”

TAGLIST:

@simonsbluee

@yuki235171

@dopeqff

@themapoftinyperfectthings

@later-gators12

@lovepeaceorelse

[animatedrapture]

RINTOBER: [ Achilles' Heel ]

word count: 2,222

suna rintarō x reader

tags: ambiguous end, implied major character death, angst, implied sexual intercourse, toxic relationship, detailed pain(?)

song: achilles come down - gang of youths

a/n: HALLOWEEN SPECIAL because... death...?

a HUGE thank you, once again, to my wonderful wife, love of my life, bby @toffees-main 🥺 for proofreading the final piece and preventing me from sounding like a dumbass like, twice. also, thank you to @newfriendjen and @kaitycole for beta-reading the initial draft!

"Rin, Rintarō, I love you!" You shouted from the bleachers; a proud smile decorating your features as you cheered for him right after he'd hit the ball to the other side of the net, securing EJP Raijin another point—so close to winning.

His gaze and yours were two opposites of a pole with a pull unparalleled—a pull science can only wish to decipher. He finds you as he rotates through the set up and there's a beam in his eyes, making him break out into a grin you just know he couldn't find it in himself to reserve for later.

That day, that match—Suna Rintarō was named the MVP of the game. He owed it all to you and the swell of his heart with each cheer he heard from you; your voice distinct as if it were the only one that mattered in that whole gymnasium. Perhaps, at least that time, you truly were all that mattered to him.

But not anymore.

The first—the first was the lack of replies, the dryer replies. I love you's met with Love you's and very little effort to hide the lack of sincerity beneath. It began through texts until it was the quick, snipped tone laced with the parsimonious manner he answered you. The act of it was much like an attempt to deprive you of water until you're but withering rose in his grasp that he would rather replace than try to plant again and save.

Just how long were you willing to go without the water you needed to stay alive?

"Rin, love, I'll prepare dinner for us tonight, come home early, okay? I'm cooking your favorite!"

"I'll try," was his reply as you watched each of his hasty movements through your shared bedroom.

"I prepared you a bento, too. It's on the kitchen counter," you continued as he attempted to ignore the way you looked at him similar to the way you look when you're lost and searching for something. He hums in response, and just as he was about to reach for the door, you call out to him, "Rin, where's my goodbye kiss?" in the usual tone you would pull back then when he would forget and pepper you with kisses in retaliation, offering an apology before heading out.

He looks back at you with exasperation, "I'm late, Y/N." He doesn't wait for you to answer before he has the door shut close.

That's how you know he also forgot the food you prepared on the kitchen counter.

Foolishly, the answer to the question was that you were willing to wait until your next life for his love to drown you into bliss again. It's that answer that's disrespectful to the mystery of reincarnation—but you're everything Suna Rintarō wanted you to be; that is, if it was a fool he wanted you to be, you would play the part better than any award winning actor to have ever lived could. Even if it was a miscreant he wanted you to be, some sort of heretic to the laws of the world and the conditions of love. You'd be everything he asked of you. After all, who were you if not his other half?

Who were you if not water to shape into whatever container he put you in, right?

The second—the second was the lies that slipped past such sinful crimson lips. Oh, by the heavens, as if the lack of fondness in the timbre of his voice as he spoke to you wasn't enough to put cracks to the cemented foundation of you and him. Cruel, it's so cruel—you wonder if you're lacking somewhere, have you changed? Are you no longer diamond in the sea of glitter—? Worth not of his time nor the beating of the caged heart you thought you've acquired?

Now when he speaks, even the very sound of his voice reverberates like a sharp spear piercing through your chest without mercy—as if you're Spartan in the Battle of Thermopylae. The lies that come along with them about how training ended late again, or that he's travelling for a match again—Huh? No, you don't have to come, Y/N. I need to focus.

Did he have to lie about who he's with, what he's been doing? It's laughable. As if you wouldn't kiss away the taste of anything that lingered in his lips, if it was blood, alcohol or the lips of another girl. Rintarō, did he not know you enough to know you would surrender to his will no matter what mud followed his footsteps?

Ah, but, what would admitting such things do to his pride? Maybe it's that—or maybe he liked the way the lies were like lemon and salt to a fresh wound. You think, you never thought you could be so masochistic.

Third—the third is the sharpness of his gaze. It's the same gaze, same pair of eyes you've loved for such a long time and you fail not to love to this very moment. You're softer than clouds but now most hollow in comparison to the unacquirable stars among the cosmos—you think they're there but they're just a burst of light, something that has probably died lightyears ago.

It's like chokehold, the fourth—the fourth is like chokehold and he, the assassin. Ruthless—he's ruthless when he looks at you as you're not more than a tedious chore to him and the ring on your finger held no promise of relentless love greater than what a deity could offer.

Foolish—you're foolish. Delusion is a coping mechanism to the ones whose realities have been robbed in front of them—delusion is what you're supposed to call it when you fill your head with all the excuses and all the things you tell yourself have to change. You used to be a masterpiece. A masterpiece to him; as though you're Holy Grail found in a gallery of things that could never begin to hope they would ever amount to you.

Delusion is ignoring the liquor in his lips, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with alcohol and cigarette smoke. You're confused and your reality that seems to have been distorting more often than usual. You question the strings that premeditate fate when it's you feeling the drunkenness and hangover the next day when it should be Suna and the tabloids of "Suna Rintarō spotted in yet another bar." You wonder if each sunset and sunrise you watched with Suna was a mere fever dream when it's you who vomits on the toilet. You, who sobs on the bathroom floor.

"Sfumato," your friend tells you, "The gentle blurring of edges to make rendered objects appear as one with their environment." The edges blur when you call that delusion as love—you only have to wait long enough before both are truly one and the same. The pain disguised as martyr sacrifice to the greatest allegory of love to exist. This is what you're told. They say, "Y/N, you've confused love with delusion," and yet you don't listen.

You don't listen most of all when you're back underneath him but you feel like you're being bloodied all over, stained like wine to a white dress. Yet you allow yourself to indulge in the kisses he's abated you of, you revel in each time you ask him to tell you he loves you and he finally does as he luxuriates you of your desires and of your whines for love—nevermind that he was doing it for himself. After all, it is as the word suggests, a luxury.

Suna Rintarō had become a luxury you couldn't afford, therefore, he did not have any business of giving himself to you. Not unless he wanted to.

Is there such thing as a free reign over the heart of someone? Hand it over as they will but how long would they truly allow you to borrow it—? Borrow it because one never truly surrenders such a vital thing to human functioning. Yes, you are and you have been delusional to believe so.

"You own the entirety of my heart, Y/N," you're unsure whenever it echoes in your head. He brings you enough torture, why must your own brain create such clamor in your head. Was such pain necessary? Is pain to love much like Adam's rib to Eve?

"It's a promise ring, bunny," he said as he tucked your hair behind your ears—his gaze is intense, almost like you would disappear from his sight if he looked at anywhere or anything but you.

You stared at the ring that shone under the light of the restaurant, your vision blurring at the tears welling from your eyes and you try your best to choke in the sob that involuntarily escapes you.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you cryin' for?" He questioned with a chuckle, looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes while his thumbs reached out to wipe away each tear that betrayed you—falling down your cheeks as he cupped your face.

"I-it's nothing, I—I'm just happy, love," you answer him through your tears.

There's a smile playing across his lips, he tells you, "'m just making a promise that I'll marry you one day, bunny, is all."

You nodded eagerly with a wide smile even as the tears that left you continued to fall, "I'm making a promise to say yes, Rin. No matter what," you answered him through your sobs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Guess I should start practicing to get on one knee then, yeah?" He laughed as he pulled you closer, his arms around you, you giggled along with him—it felt like you were molded together to form one perfect piece, like the act of staying there for all of eternity, in each other's arms, would turn you into one. Entangled together in all the right ways—as if Rapture has befallen the Earth and that was your final state as did the universe.

The fifth—the fifth is the screaming, the fights. Who would have thought you would break like a mere twig stepped on in the darkest forest on this Earth? It was under his shoe did you break from; each word that left his mouth was scathing—they didn't feel like a stab or pins and needles to the human heart, they felt like burns of acid that slowly ate at your decaying soul, breaking heart, dwindling sanity.

"I don't get it, Rin! Why do you treat me like this?!" You screamed through your tears, your chest heaving as your lungs tried its best to support you, even when it's already been punctured by the shattered pieces of your heart that continued to beat in separate shards, digging further into your lungs, damaging your ribcage, piercing your throat.

"Please, God, just tell me what to do—Rintarō, tell me what I need to do to turn us back to the way we were, please," you begged, falling to your knees and you let the shattered items on the floor puncture your skin. You felt numb yet your whole body was buzzing. The pain from the pieces of glass from under you doesn't register in your brain because all you can feel is the pain that was spreading from your chest and out into your whole body.

Under his mercy had he turned you inside out and greedily taken every part of you—everything you surrendered on your own volition until you were nothing, not even a shell of yourself but more like a ghost floating through the air. It looked like a battlefield—and perhaps it was. Love was never something you come out alive from. Love was greedy, selfish, treacherous. Love is like an assailant you allowed to enter in the safety of your own home.

"Don't you get it? Y/N, I don't love you anymore!"

No. You think, no. No, it repeats in your head, over and over. Denial. You were in denial, at this conjecture, you were aware of even this.

"I stopped loving you long ago, Y/N. You were dumb enough to stay." Has he always been this truculent towards you? You wonder but you can't recall anything else but the echoing of his words. Words he used like a champion of the battlefield, liberating away the life of his enemies.

No. Don't say that. You don't mean it. No.

Suna thought you would be the arrow to his heel—the one to bring him to his knees in the most torturous of ways. In reality, maybe you were more his heel than the arrow. He was both Achilles and his actions, the arrow that brought him to his own demise.

Sixth—the sixth was sickening grief. You're so unfair. You're so selfish. How could you run away from him, only to scream his name and the tormenting shout of "I love you" that haunted him awake or in his slumber. How could you be so cruel? To let him fall to his knees in front you the way you made him to. Ruthless—you're so ruthless. The pain was the excruciating kind, crashing towards him like ocean waves bringing him farther from the shore and near to wherever you were now. How could you leave him like you did?

After all, what was he if there wasn't you?

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[tomuras-doormat]

Liar - Keigo Takami x F!Reader

Sorry about being a little inactive, so to make up for it I’ll give you some angst. Personal issues have been kicking me lately and also I don’t have many good ideas, but I hope I’ll get some more ideas soon! I might make a part 2 depending on the response of this fic/how I feel.  Word Count: 1.8K Warning: Cheating Part 2  Part 3

“Hey baby, I have to stay late at the office again tonight, could we take a rain check on that date?″ You sighed at the text and set your phone down. This is the third time this week your boyfriend had canceled on you. That’s what you get for dating a Pro Hero right? Walking to your bedroom you unzip your dress and slide it down. It was a new dress you had bought for your next date with Keigo, you bought the dress 5 weeks ago. 

You grabbed a hanger for your dress and hung it back in the closet with your other fancy dresses. You bought the dresses to wear when you were with Keigo, but you’ve only worn 3 of the dresses. You frown at the luxurious material and unclasp your heels, placing them in the closet and closing the door. You walked over to the bathroom and turned on the water at the sink. Grabbing a small towel and makeup remover you started to wipe the makeup from your face. You looked in the mirror and looked at your features. Did Keigo not like something about me? Was he embarrassed to be with me? Is he falling out of love..? Thoughts filled your head you started to tremble at the thought of Keigo leaving you. You turned the water off and set the towel down, your gaze reaching the sink. Keigo doesn’t tend to eat if he works late shifts like this, maybe I should bring him a little something to eat.. You smiled at the thought and ran to your closet grabbing some casual clothes and putting them on. You walked down stairs and grabbed your purse from the couch. You walked over to the door and put on some white sneakers and a light jacket. It wasn’t too cold out but just in case. You grabbed the key to the house and walked out, closing the door behind you. Walking down the sidewalk you made your way to a chicken place where you and Keigo had met. Ever since then you both declared it as your favorite place to get a bite to eat. Keigo’s agency wasn’t far from the restaurant either so it was a win win. You hadn’t been to his agency in awhile so you wondered if any changes have been made to it. Did they update the lobby? Maybe Keigo had his office redone Did they get a new receptionist? The last one was kind of a jerk. Making your way to the restaurant the cashier smiled at you, being here plenty of times you know just about all the workers. “Hello Mrs. Takami!” said the girl. You blushed at the name and flashed her a small smile. You and Keigo weren’t married yet and you never introduced yourself as being married so you figured Keigo introduced you as that. “Are you here for the usual?” asked the girl. You nodded your head and pulled out your wallet. “That’ll be $12.58 ma’am” she said with a smile. You handed her your card and she scanned it. The girl started to hum and handed you back the card along with a receipt. She continued to hum and walked to the back kitchen to help prepare the meal. You stepped away from the counter and pulled out your phone, making your way to a game that had just come out, Genshin Impact. Keigo always nagged you about playing the game without him because he got upset whenever your level was higher than his. When you two did have time together it was mostly spent playing Impact. It helped Keigo relax and you got to spend time with him, a win win situation.  You’re snapped out of your thoughts as the girl calls your name. You put you phone away and walked over to the counter. You took the bag and smiled. “Have a great day ma’am!” said the girl cheerfully. You waved her a goodbye and walked out, making your way to Keigo’s Agency. The chicken smelled good and you couldn’t wait to sink your teeth into it.  Making your way to the building you walked inside to be greeted by a new receptionist. You smiled and walked over to the desk. “Hello Miss. How can I help you today?” asked the receptionist. “I’m here to deliver some dinner to my boyfriend, Keigo.” you said softly. The man nodded, “I’ll let him know.” You shook your head and said, “Actually I want this to be a surprise. He’s been working hard lately so I figured this could cheer him up a little.” The man nodded again and smiled.  You walked over to the elevator and waited for it to open. You looked around a bit and noticed that small updates were made to the lobby. The reception desk was different and they added different plants to the lobby. The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped inside, looking at the panel of buttons. You hit the highest number and watched as the door closed. You weren’t a fan of elevators, the way they moved made you a little sick. Being in one alone scares you a little too. You looked around the elevator to try and distract yourself from the moving box. Another generic elevator. Another horror box as you would call it. Keigo would always tease you about your small fear. Thinking about it brought a soft smile to your face, looking up when the elevator dings. Your smile brightens as the doors open, you step out and make your way to his office door. You knock softly on his door and wait for a response. A couple seconds went by and you knocked again, a little louder this time. You opened grabbed the door handle and opened the door as quietly as you could, poking your head through the small opening you made.  Your eyes widened and you started to shake. Some girl was laid across his desk and Keigo was pounding into her. You bit your lip and closed the door as quietly as you could and made your way back to the elevator. You held your chest and hit the L button.  Who was she.. Is this why Keigo wasn’t coming home..? Is this why he always canceled our dates..? You looked down as you eyes threatened to release the salty water. You wiped your eyes quickly and bit your lip again. You couldn’t cry now, not in public, not when so many people could see you. The elevator dinged and you quickly walked out of the elevator and made your way out the main entrance, ignoring the receptionist. You shivered as the cool wind hit your skin, but it helped to keep your tears in place. You held the warm dinner close to your chest and made your way back to the house.  Walking up to the door you pulled out your key and unlocked the door. You rushed inside and closed the door behind you, kicking your shoes off and walking to the kitchen. You sniffled and set the bag of food down. You bit your bottom lip and pulled out your phone. You went to messages and opened up yours and Keigo’s messages.  “Hey babe, I went to your office today but you didn’t answer when I knocked on the door so I figured you were busy, I bought you some chicken from our favorite restaurant. It’s in the kitchen for when you get home.”

You look at the text and whimper. You shook you head and deleted the message. What did she have that you didn’t? You turned the light off and made you way to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You walked over to your closet and pulled out your pajamas. With it becoming colder at night and no one to keep you warm you started to wear your winter pajamas earlier this year. They were cute festive fuzzy pants with a matching long sleeve shirt. You stripped yourself of your clothes and put your pajamas on, looking at yourself in the mirror. You frowned at your figure and wrapped your arms around your stomach.  “She was so pretty.. No wonder Keigo was with her..” You sniffled and bit your lip as you felt the hot tears start to form in your eyes again.  “What did I do to make him do this to me..? Is this my fault..?” You walked over to the bed and crawled onto it, carefully pulling the sheets down. You lay on your side and bring your phone up to your face. Unlocking the device you went to your gallery and started to scroll through photos you and Keigo took together. As tears spilled from your eyes you tightened your grip on your phone, unable to stop yourself from the cries escaping your throat.

* * *

Walking out of the elevator, Keigo waves to the receptionist in a ‘goodbye’ gesture. “Oh Mr. Takami, sir, your girlfriend stopped by earlier.” He looked at the man and raised an eyebrow. “She did?” Keigo asked. The man nodded and said, “Yeah, she stopped by about an hour ago with a bag of food and said she was gonna surprise you with it for working so hard, but when she came back down she still had the food..” Keigo’s hand twitched and he took a deep breath. “I must’ve been too busy to hear her come up, thank you for telling me.” The man nodded and Keigo walked out of the lobby and headed home as fast as he could, opting to fly then walk.  Walking up to the door he growled when he noticed the door was unlocked. Usually you left the door unlocked for him but this time it made him upset. Walking into the house he closed the door behind him and looked around. Keigo noticed the bag of food on the table and he rolled his eyes. “There’s no way she saw. She couldn’t have saw.” Keigo mumbled.  Making his way to the bedroom he opened the door to see you laying on the bed, the glow from your phone illuminating your face. He stripped himself down to his boxers and walked over to the bed to examine your face.  Tear stained and dry Keigo looked at your phone and looked back at you again. He grabbed your phone and sighed when it was opened to a picture of you two. Keigo rubbed his eyes and turned the phone off. “God damnit baby bird, why did you have to go to the office? Why couldn’t you just stay here like you’re suppose to?” Keigo laid down next to you and pulled you close to his chest. “You’re not leaving me, no matter how hard you try..”

. . * . * . . * .✰☾ Tags ☽ ✰. * * . . * . * . . 

@darkbonklightkid

​

[funtimefishy]

A Stumble in the Darkness ~ PT. 1

request: So, I was wondering if you could do a scenario in which I am a security guard in Sister Location? And I stumble into the scooping room since I'm new, trying to run away from Ballora who was on all fours, chasing me. Then I notice William, working on the machine. And he sees me!

word count: 1008 yeahhh

warnings: usage of d*m* 

canonical inconsistencies: i dont think theres anything that’s not according to game or book lore, thus making this fic completely canon!! 

A/N: hii!! here i am, posting yet another fic! i honestly like this one, despite the goofy bit i added in towards the middle. also, regarding that request, i couldnt mention the fact that Ballora was on all fours because i couldnt find the opportunity to put that in, but just imagine she is. thank you and enjoy!! 

extra: gender neutral reader :) also, this is NOT a ROMANTIC fnaf x reader post!! part 2 coming.. whenever

It was right behind you. You were sure of it. Running wasn’t something you did regularly, but you found it super easy when you were granted with the fact that you were running for your life. You heard its bones and gears creak inside its hard metal shell. You kept a steady pace and didn’t dare to look back. Your breath was heavy, mimicking your footsteps. You couldn’t even visualize what would happen if it caught you. 

You had zero clue where you were going. You were supposed to be headed to the Scooper Room to perform repairs on machinery, but you never received a map of the underground location, thus forcing you to stumble around blindly in search of the Scooper Room door. In the meantime, you had other things to worry about, like running for your life.

Your flashlight didn’t illuminate much, and you prayed you didn't bump into anything or trip on something. You knew you were in Ballora Gallery; that’s where the thing detected you. Now was just the difficulty of locating your way back to the control module located… who knows where? 

Your legs grew weary as your speed gradually diminished. You ran in big circles around the far side of Ballora Gallery. The room was not well ventilated, making breathing all that much more difficult. Where was the damn control module? You got a steady grip on your flashlight and shined it in the distance again. You thought you spotted a green tint across the room, the same green tint you saw in the control module. You were sure it was this way. If not, you were afraid that this would be the end. The thing remained close as your heart galloped. Your shoes struck the gray tile beneath you that composed the floor. The green color grew brighter as you approached. This had to be the control module. What else would it be? You shined your flashlight again and there it was. 

Safety.

The only problem was, there was a small opening, like a vertical trapdoor, you had to crawl through. You were sure that if you slowed down a little bit to start crawling, the thing would catch you. You tried to think of another idea, possibly a better one, but you couldn’t. Crawling was your only option, and you had to take the chance. You powered your legs as much as possible, trying to gain as much distance between you and the creature. Your feet ached and throbbed. The small opening was still open from when you first entered Ballora Gallery. 

Suddenly, it dawned on you. 

You had an idea. 

Was it a good one? No. Crawling just might be your best option, but your chances of survival may go up if all is done successfully. What choice did you have? You had to jump.

You grew closer to the control module and dived downward toward the small opening in the wall. Everything felt like it happened in slow motion as you plunged headfirst into the opening. This was it, you thought. You were going to bang your head and it was going to catch you. There was no avoiding it. 

You hit the cold uneven tile flooring on your stomach as you slid forward on the floor. Seemingly by chance, seemingly by luck, you slid through the small opening in the wall and into the control module. You couldn’t believe your eyes. You couldn’t believe anything. It worked. As funny as it may sound, becoming a penguin just might’ve saved your life. You stood up and panicked to close the opening, then chuckled lightly. You couldn’t believe you just did that, and that it worked. 

Dusting dust and dirt off of you, you took your flashlight and shined it through the slightly tinted glass between Ballora Gallery and the control module, and there stood the humanoid robot. Standing at least 6 feet tall, it towered over you as it stared through the glass with an empty smile on its face. Now that you were safe, you could swiftly examine its features through the foggy glass. 

Its eyes were shut, its eyelids neatly painted with blue eyeshadow. The lips were gently coated with magenta lipstick. Of course, the makeup wasn’t real. It was just painted onto the hard metal to give it the same look. The robot’s metal hair was put up in a blue bun with silver spheres and accessories neatly placed in it. The robot appeared to be a ballerina. It was positioned in a pirouette as it proceeded to menacingly gaze through the glass. 

“Onward.” You said, sighing. You were just about ready to go right back onto that elevator, the same elevator you came in through to get to this stupid job. You were just about ready to go home, a place where there are no monsters; just you and your soap operas. Instead, you spun around to enter the opening on the other side of the control module. You flicked the switch that opened the tiny door and proceeded to crawl through. The man you took the job from explicitly stated Funtime Foxy would not be active, as they were undergoing maintenance, so you had nothing to worry about while crossing Funtime Auditorium. 

~~~

You scanned the walls for the Scooper Room door. Despite you searching for nearly ten minutes scanning the outer walls of Funtime Auditorium, you did not find a door… until you did. You skipped over it when you walked through the first time, you guessed. You grabbed the doorknob of the door and pushed open the heavy door as you stared into even more complete darkness. You shined your flashlight into the room and looked around, closing the door behind you as you walked in. 

“Creepy,” You whispered to yourself as you continued to walk forward into the room.

“Indeed it is!” A man emerged from the darkness. You shrieked, fumbling with your flashlight. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” “I’m Dave, and you arrived just on time.”

[vfdarkness]

AVFD Script - S2EP03 The Forgotten Man

[[Intro]]

You’re at a bus stop and your bus is late.

Finally, it pulls up, you step aboard, and for a brief moment… 

the driver’s facial features - their eyes, nose, mouth are in all the wrong places. 

As you stare, their face quickly rearranges itself to appear more normal. More human.

The door closes. There’s no one else in the vehicle.

You need my help.

[[AVFD intro music kicks in]]

This is A Voice From Darkness.

[[AVFD intro music fades out]]

Hello, this is Dr. Malcolm Ryder, parapsychologist, here to help you with all problems paranormal, supernatural, and otherworldly. And we have a wonderful show planned for tonight. There’s two national alerts for the state of Florida - one for the panhandle, and another for the everglades. After we go over these we’ll explore one of the strangest roadside attractions in American history. And of course we’ll finish our show with the phone lines open so you, our listeners, can call-in. But first, let's get to our national alerts

[[National Alerts music starts]]

A sinkhole has appeared in the middle of Kelson Ave in Marianna, Florida. The hole’s depth is currently unknown however twenty feet down, stone carvings of faces appear. The carvings continue for as far down as anyone can tell. Each is unique yet is made to grotesquely express either the emotion of fear or that of delight. A spelunker descended into the hole to gather information about its depth. Two hours into his descent contact was lost and he was pulled out. When he resurfaced he was said to be in a daze. He removed his harness and immediately jumped back into the hole. Please be careful while driving on Kelson, Ave in Marianna, Florida. 

Our second national alert is for the Florida Everglades. The Singing has returned to the wetlands. All those in the area are advised to wear hearing protection for at least the next 72 hours or until otherwise instructed. The source of The Singing is unknown but is said to compel all who hear it to walk into the wetlands and be devoured by the creatures there-in. Again, please wear hearing protection if you’re within earshot of the Florida Everglades.

And that’s all we have for national alerts this evening. 

[[NA music fades out]]

Next up we have Today In Odd America, where we’ll discuss a manifestation that once haunted every corner of this land. And afterwards we’ll open the phone-lines.

[[Today In Odd America]]

Today in Odd America we find ourselves across the highways of our country. Forty four years ago today marks the last known visit to a roadside attraction commonly called The House of Narcissus. No physical evidence of this place exists. It was never found in the same location twice - yet hundreds of oral testimonies swear to its existence. Tonight I will cobble together disparate accounts from those who claim to have toured the fabled roadside museum. My hope is this will paint you a picture of what the experience was like for those who wound up touring a space dedicated completely to themselves. 

“I was driving down Route 8,” Maise Bridges stated to the Columbus Dispatch in 1955. “It was late and dark. No other cars were on the road. Then I saw it - a billboard illuminated by a single dim light that read: Know Thyself, Next Exit. No other words. But next to them, taking up the entirety of the right side was a painted picture - of me. Unmistakably me. Done in a sort of… Norman Rockwell style I suppose. I just… What was I supposed to do? Of course I took the next exit.” 

All descriptions of The House of Narcissus begin this way. A strange billboard on a lonely road, mere seconds to decide to take the exit or not. Oddly, there are few confirmed cases of those who saw the billboard and kept driving. It’s impossible to say if that says something overall about human nature or merely the people The House chose to manifest for.

“I was overwhelmed when I first drove up to the house,” Curtis Johnson said to the Louisville Times in 1948. “I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I might have cried a bit. I mean the place was just, just magnificent. Out there, in the middle of this grassy field, in the middle of nowhere there’s this small piece of heaven, you know? I didn’t feel like I was about to tour some cheap-o roadside scam where they show you a mannequin in a five dollar gorilla suit and tell you it’s Bigfoot. I felt like I was home. Of course I rushed right outta my car up to the door. Why wouldn’t I? I was home.”

Descriptions of the museum are typically left vague. Abstract. At least when describing the exterior. Visitors will speak of the joy they felt upon seeing the house. Often they’ll say a sense of nostalgia or homecoming overwhelmed them. However no one was ever able to give a single concrete detail of what The House looked like. How many stories were there? What color was the siding? What the house looks like remains a mystery to this day. But there’s much agreement about its interior. At least in some respects.

“There’re no employees, no turnstyle to go through, nothing like a museum or roadside attraction typically has. You just go in the front door, and you’re suddenly there - in the first room. It’s filled with photographs along the walls. They were all of my family, friends, neighbors, teachers, former classmates, folks from my church, employers, co-workers. People I might have talked to only once in passing. None of these were photos I took or remember anyone else ever taking. None are in any photo album I own,” said Judge Michael Harvester in 1972, when he called into the KIRT radio station of Olympia, Washington. 

The Photo Gallery is always the first room visitors find themselves in. Under each photo is a brass plaque, on which a single sentence is etched: the last words said by whomever is touring the house to the person featured in the photograph.

Even this first room can be disarming to a visitor. As Judge Harvester said: “You don’t realize how many people you speak to, thinking you’ll do so again, but then never do. It adds up over a life. It really does. I didn’t look at all the pictures, or read all the plaques. I had to stop after awhile. I saw one in particular… the last words I said to an old neighbor of mine, lived a few houses away from the place I bought right after law school. Me, him, and some of the guys down the block would get together to play poker twice a month. Last thing I said to him, ‘I’ll see you in a few weeks.’ I don’t remember what happened after that. I guess the poker game fell apart. I don’t think either of us moved, I don’t remember us getting into any fights. But I never spoke to him again. And that’s just one example. People like to call that first room the photo gallery, and that makes sense, I guess. But that’s not what it is. It’s a monument. A monument to lost relationships.”

Most visitors to The House expressed regret coming there at all after visiting this first room. Unfortunately, the way they entered disappears after entry - replaced by a wall filled with photographs. Once you enter, The House forces you to continue through the rooms. That is, if you wish to leave.

“The second room was a full scale replica of my childhood home,” said Sara Lopez to the San Diego Tribune in 1966. “All five rooms of our house back on Balboa Avenue. “I went through the cabinets in the kitchen. The dishes… they were identical to ones we had. There were these little hand drawn designs on them. They’re abstract, hard to describe, but the plates in that museum. They matched perfectly how I remembered them. It was impossible.” Most statements regarding the second room share similar amazement at the level of detail on even the most insignificant items - stains on the carpet, entryways scuffed and dirty from children’s shoes. “What really got me about the second room, “Sara Lopez said, “were the smells. The kitchen had this overwhelming odor of garlic and cumin, spices my mother put in everything. The carpet near the entryway smelled like wet dog. Our lab, Daisy, would run through our neighbors sprinkler then come inside, right to that patch of carpet, and roll around. Little things like that, I’d forgotten about completely. Hadn’t thought of in years, but suddenly a million memories came rushing back to me.”

The average visitor reported spending somewhere between four to five hours in The House of Narcissus. There were outliers of course, in both directions. Some, after seeing the photo gallery, ran through the other rooms without lingering. Others claimed to have spent days and only left when they were near dehydration.

There are dozens of other rooms in The House. Too many to go over tonight. But I’ll end by stating what’s in the only obligatory room, the last room. The room with the only way out.

At the very end of a long hallway is a plain wooden door with a small sign above that reads: What if…

Inside is a small movie theatre. There’s a single red cushioned seat in the room with the perfect view of a small screen. To the right of the screen is a door with an exit sign above. The door will not open unless the visitor sits down in the chair and watches, truly watches and listens, to the film that plays in that small theatre.

“On the day of what was supposed to be my wedding I called my best friend - my bridesmaid. I cried and I gave her the awful job of telling my husband-to-be I’d changed my mind,” said Tonya Blanton to the Sante Fe Dispatch in 1958. “I was living in Minneapolis at the time. Born there, was to be married there, figured I’d die there eventually too. I don’t know what overcame me. But I got in my car and drove. Found myself in New Mexico and started a new life. My parents were furious. And I never spoke to the man who was to be my husband ever again. He sent me a letter when I’d settled in Santa Fe. I wasn’t brave enough to open it. But in that last room. In that last room of that awful house - a film played. It showed what my life would have been had I stayed in Minneapolis. I won’t… I won’t say what all I saw. What all I missed out on. All I’ll say is I know I made the wrong choice. I’ve thought about that every single day since visiting that terrible place.”

Tonya Blanton is not a unique case. Chicago journalist Studs Terkel in his book The American Road: An Oral History devoted a chapter to The House of Narcissus. He conducted over twenty interviews with those who'd toured the roadside wonder. When asked if they could change places and live the life they saw in that last room - would they? Every person he interviewed said they would.

The House of Narcissus only existed for some sixty odd years. The last known visit occurred in 1977, outside of Spring Green, Wisconsin. “People say I must’ve burned the place down or something,” Buddy Palmer, the last recognized visitor, said to the Madison Gazette in 1980. “I didn’t, I swear,” he went on, “but if I had some matches and kerosene on me, would I of? Sure thing. No one should ever be forced to watch the movie that plays in that last room. I’ll think of that picture the rest of my life. I’ll know I messed up early on and I’m not living my best, happiest life. You know how hard it is to get out of the bed in the morning with that hanging over you? Sometimes that movie plays in my dreams. I usually gotta call in sick to work the next day when it does. I just can’t stop thinking about it. The rest of the place too… it’s just... Just too much.”

For those of you listening to this while driving alone, rest assured, you’re unlikely to see a billboard with your own face staring back at you and the words: Know Thyself, Next Exit. But in the rare chance such an event occurs, please consider my advice: don’t take that exit. Just keep driving. There are some truths about ourselves perhaps better left unexplored.

And now back to our main show.

[[TIOA music fades out]]

​​ACT II

RYDER

And we're back and we already have a caller on the line. Why don't you tell us your name and the nature of your supernatural problem.

RENE

Hello, Malcolm. I was wondering if we'd ever get the chance to speak again.

RYDER

(uncertain)

I don't recognize your voice. Have you called into the show before?

RENE

A few times, yes. And we met once or twice in person.

A beat.

RYDER

Who is this?

RENE

My name is Rene Dupont. And though I've explained this to you before, I will kindly do so again. I exist with a peculiar condition. People can rarely retain memories of me. Not in any form. As this conversation gets to a certain point, I'll begin to vanish from your mind as well as most of your listeners. If you try to write down anything about me during this call, you'll likely only produce gibberish or the vaguest of details.

RYDER

I've read case studies of similar situations. There was a man in Utah-

RENE

(interrupts)

Yes, yes.

Nathaniel Cotwell who lived in a small town that couldn't create new memories of him past the age of eight. And so as an adult they'd still treat him as if he were a young boy. You studied him and Sarah Pullman of Butte, Montana who went missing one night in the woods. When she found her way home again, her family had completely forgotten her.

A beat.

RENE

The few times we've spoken, you've wished to demonstrate knowledge of people who've existed with Memory-related ailments and those are your two most common examples.

RYDER

It seems we have spoken before. Mr. Dupont-

RENE

Please, call me Rene. No need for formalities. We're old acquaintances after all.

RYDER

Yes. Of course. And why have you called into the show tonight, Rene?

RENE

There's been a man following me. Repeatedly.

A beat.

RYDER

(realizing what he means)

And of course that's a difficult task to accomplish, as it's so hard to remember you.

RENE

You're correct. I am Anonymity Incarnate. But there's a man in a grey suit who seems to have found my scent. A further detail about him: he's missing one of his fingers. I'll let you guess which.

RYDER

Why is The Traveling Salesman after you?

RENE

I called you in search of an answer to that very question.

RYDER

In all likelihood he wishes to strike a deal with you. That's why he seeks anyone out. That, or to kill them.

RENE

Let's assume the former for the moment: what sort of deal would he want to make with me?

RYDER

I have no idea. Perhaps he needs information from someone. But he doesn't want this person to know they've given their secrets up. I imagine with your talent that's something you'd be good at.

RENE

Before the wall was destroyed in '89 I was employed on both sides doing something akin to what you just suggested.

A beat.

RYDER

Then that might be what he wants. Or perhaps something more... metaphysical.

RENE

Such as?

RYDER

Your ability to be forgotten. Julian already has some power over memory, but not that.

RENE

Could he really take that from me?

RYDER

Not take. Trade. The Salesman doesn't steal, Rene, but his deals are often one-sided, exploitive, as he'll neglect to tell you pertent information before you agree.

RENE

So he wouldn't really be taking something from me so much as he'd be giving me the gift of being able to be remembered.

A beat.

RYDER

That's a dangerous way of viewing such a deal.

RENE

Dangerous for you, perhaps, but of great advantage to me.

RYDER

It would be dangerous for the whole country for The Traveling Salesman to be easily forgotten. One of the few weapons we have against him are the memories of devastation he's brought about by the deals he's made. The only reason anyone ever turns him down is because his reputation precedes him. Take that away-

RENE

(interrupts)

I have the means and resources to go to many other countries. Julian Holloway can have this one.

RYDER

You'd potentially sacrifice hundreds of millions of people to-

RENE

(interrupts)

To be remembered. And yes, I would. This "talent" of mine came to me when I was young. For most my life I've been unable to have a meaningful relationship with another human being.

To even have an extended conversation. What's my name?

RYDER

Rene...

Malcolm searches his mind for the surname.

RYDER

Rene Dupont.

RENE

You're close to forgetting already, Malcolm Ryder.

A beat.

RENE

If I made a deal with your friend for him to take this power away, you'd never even know.

RYDER

The Traveling Salesman is not my friend.

RENE

If your former friend might help me where no one else could before, including yourself, then I would take him up on his offer.

RYDER

That is if he even wants to help you. He could be searching for you, as I already said, to kill you.

RENE

And why would that be his objective?

RYDER

There are limitations to his power. I don't fully know what they are, but I know they exist.

RENE

Again I ask, why would this necessitate him wanting me dead?

RYDER

Because you possess power in one of his realms - Memory and Dream. And if you have more power than he does, and if he can't use you, or your power, towards his own ends, he'll want you dead. You're a liability otherwise.

A beat.

RENE

You're bluffing. Trying to stoke fear in me so I stay away from him. So I can't make a deal. If what you said was true, your friend Charlotte Price would be dead.

RYDER

Charlotte has found ways to take care of herself. She's forged alliances with things even Julian fears. Have you done the same?

A beat.

RENE

What you're telling me is that I need leverage before I allow Julian Holloway to try and offer a deal to me.

RYDER

That's not what I'm saying at all. Under no circumstances should you attempt to make any deal with him.

RENE

That's not what I took away from this conversation. Thank you so much, Malcolm. As always, you've been helpful.

RYDER

No, wait-

Dial tone.

A long pause.

RYDER

There was someone on the line just now. I swear there was.

I have notes I made, most are illegible which isn't like me. Of what I can read: Shadow, Mirror, Flesh, Spirit, and Dream. I tried to write Memory but it seems my hand was unable to. Odd...

A beat.

RYDER

I think we'll end the show there tonight. I'd like to play back the recording of the past several minutes. See if I can see what I'm missing.

A beat.

RYDER

But if you're experiencing anything supernatural, paranormal, or otherworldly, please feel free to call in next time on A Voice From Darkness.

[[AVFD outro music fades in and out.]]

[themattress]

My Top 30 Favorite Video Games

Inspired by @ultraericthered’s Top 30 Favorite Anime post. 

Although I’m doing mine in countdown form, ‘cause it’s more fun that way!

30. Super Mario Bros. - Arguably the first “blockbuster” game to be released, not only does Super Mario Bros. still hold up over 35 years later but it’s a gift that keeps on giving with how many different incarnations, remixes, fan games using its assets, etc. that we have now.

29. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - OBJECTION! While I cherish the entire original Phoenix Wright trilogy of the Ace Attorney franchise, I’ll always be the most partial to the original outing. The sheer audacity and hilarity of the concept, which is grounded by endearing characters and compelling mysteries, shines brilliantly in this little, easily accessible game. 

28. Trigger Happy Havoc: Danganronpa - While similar in many ways to Ace Attorney, Danganronpa boasts a variety of more actual gameplay than mere point-and-click text scrolling. But what really makes this stand out, beyond gameplay or even the strength of its concept, story and characters, is the atmosphere it creates. For good and for ill, traversing the pristine, neon-lit hallways of the abandoned Hopes Peak Academy looking for clues as I’m forced to play by Monokuma’s twisted rules is an experience that will stay with me forever.

27. Star Fox 64 - Beyond all the entertainment this game provides through memes, it’s really just a fun, reasonably simple but just moderately complicated enough game that’s accessible to any player even if they usually don’t go for aerial shooters. It’s also one of the earliest console games that I ever played, so of course it’s going to hold a special place in my heart.

26. Batman: Arkham City - It’s an impressive feat when an open world game can still feel so claustrophobic in all the right ways, and that’s what Arkham City accomplishes. This game is essentially The Dark Knight to Arkham Asylum’s Batman Begins, escalating the action, suspense and sheer Batman-ness, providing unlimited opportunities to enjoy yourself playing as Gotham’s defender and facing down the greatest Rogues Gallery in comic book history.

25. Red Dead Redemption - Look, I know that Red Dead Redemption 2 is technically the superior game. But its complicated story, sprawling cast of characters, and vast canvas of a world can be pretty daunting, whereas I feel like the original Red Dead Redemption struck a much better balance. Allowing open world freedom within the confines of the straight-forward story of John Marston’s redemption really makes you feel like you’re in an old Western film, and the way that choices you make as a player impact the way that film ultimately turns out is one of the strongest arguments for video games being worthy of consideration as true art.

24. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - So, ten years ago an open world adventure video game series releases its fifth entry...and to this day, we’ve had no sixth, in favor of expansions and updated re-releases of said fifth entry. But that’s not a sign of laziness; it’s a sign the developers know they hit such a peak in quality that they have no need to rush anything further out the gate, as Skyrim is a gift that keeps on giving. Addictive in how unlimited in possibilities it is, with each playthrough never being the same as the one before, Skyrim is a gaming masterpiece that I don’t think I’m going to get bored with playing anytime soon.

23. Super Paper Mario - This may be an unpopular opinion, but I vastly prefer this game’s action-platform-RPG hybrid gameplay style to the prior installments’ traditional turn-based RPG style, which feels more at home in stuff like Super Mario RPG and the Mario & Luigi series. But gameplay aside, I think this has the strongest story of any Mario game, trading in the usual “save the kingdom/princess” fare for saving all of reality, with legitimate emotion and drama and even character development. It’s one of the Wii’s shining gems, to be sure.

22. Epic Mickey - This game’s graphics are by and large unremarkable, its gameplay is fraught with issues (that camera is unforgivable), and it’s nowhere close to the best on its system or genre. But Epic Mickey is a case study in where the effort put into crafting the game’s world and story, not to mention the obvious love and respect for the material being worked with, pays off. Any Disney fan will love this game for its story, which puts Mickey front and center as an actual character rather than a mascot and dives deep into his history as he meets his “half-brother” Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, and its mystical, unique atmosphere - what the graphics can’t deliver, the fucking music more than makes up for. All of the game’s flaws mean nothing compared to the sheer heart on display, and I treasure it greatly as a result.

21. Batman: Arkham Asylum - I already mentioned that Arkham City is the superior game, but as was the case with Red Dead Redemption and its sequel, personal preference strikes again. The simpler story and narrower confines of Arkham Asylum just appeal to me slightly more, and I feel like the borderline horror atmosphere this game has could never fully be replicated by all of its sequels and spin-offs. Also, you can play as the Joker in this. WIN.

20. Metal Gear Solid - And on the subject of Arkham Asylum, it owes much to this game, which created the template of a lone badass hero having to use stealth and weaponry to liberate a government-owned island from the lunatic terrorists that have taken over. Hideo Kojima famously never wanted this game to have any sequels, and I can definitely see his point, as it’s a complete and wholly satisfying experience in of itself and I don’t feel like it’s ever been topped. At the very least, it’s certainly the most enjoyable of the series to me.

19. The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask - Also, speaking of “borderline horror atmosphere”, we have the freakiest game that the Legend of Zelda series ever put out. What was supposed to just be a gaiden to Ocarina of Time mutated into this beautiful monstrosity that’s become just as iconic. Nobody who plays this game is ever going to forget that fucking moon and all the constant jumping back and forth in time across three days as you try to prevent the apocalypse of Termina. It’s the kind of gaming trauma that’s well worth experiencing.

18. Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories - Like Majora’s Mask, this game is a case study where you can take a bunch of recycled assets and gameplay, and then make something unique from it if you have a well-crafted story with a dark and disturbing atmosphere. It’s hard to experience or appreciate the transition between Kingdom Hearts and Kingdom Hearts II without playing this midquel, which takes the narrative and characters to deeper levels without being pretentious about it and sets the stage for the proper console sequel perfectly. And if you can’t get into it being on Gameboy Advance, then just play the PS2 remake (which is arguably the superior version anyway) and you’re good! Just...don’t mind the cards, OK?

17. Sonic CD - And now we have another game about jumping back and forth through time to prevent an apocalypse! See the common threads at play here by this point? Sonic the Hedgehog is at his best in 2D gameplay, and I personally enjoy this the best out of all the 2D games in the series. As obscure as the Sega CD was as a system, it was powerful enough to take the blue blur’s speed to its maximum level, set alongside beautiful graphics and a kick-ass soundtrack (well, two different kick-ass soundtracks; and I actually prefer the US one). 

16. Pokemon Black & White - While there were advancements made to story and graphics and gameplay features in the third and fourth generations of the Pokemon series, nothing felt as truly ground-breaking as the second generation games until the fifth gen with its Black & White games. This was arguably the game series’ peak in quality on all fronts, but its specifically the story that lands it on this list, as its well-written and paced, subverts many formulaic elements from the previous games, is set in one of the most unique regions in the Pokemon world, and has a timeless message that has only grown more relevant with age. 

15. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - The whole series could really go here, but fortunately the most recent entry is the perfect embodiment of said series, with every playable character there’s ever been and then some. The sheer variety is unmatched by any other fighting game out there, and its story mode, “World of Light”, is quite possibly the greatest video game crossover in history given how many characters are featured as both fighters and spirits.

14. Super Mario 64 - I’m pretty sure this game used to be higher in my favor, but replaying it on the Nintendo Switch recently has made me aware of how, as the first game on the Nintendo 64 and the first 3D platformer, it’s poorly aged in several areas. However, I must stress that it is still a very good game. The fun of going to the various worlds within paintings in Peach’s Castle hasn’t changed, nor has how smoothly and seamlessly Mario managed to make the jump from 2D to 3D. Just like Super Mario Bros., the number of games that owe something to this one is too great to count, and that’s an achievement that remains timeless.

13. Dark Chronicle - Also known as Dark Cloud 2. I hadn’t heard a damn thing about this game before renting it on a whim many years ago, and I was caught off guard by just how good it was. It’s got a simple but effective story and likable characters, a timeless atmosphere, beautifully cel-shaded graphics, dungeon-crawling gameplay, action-RPG combat gameplay, literal world-building gameplay, and even a fishing minigame! This game can actually stand besides the Zelda series without shame; it’s truly an underrated gem.

12. The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess - Oh, speaking of Zelda, this game goes full Lord of the Rings-style epic fantasy with it and it is glorious. Between the near perfect gameplay, beautiful 3D graphics, and one of the best stories in the series (with one of the best characters: Midna), Twilight Princess’ most prevalent complaint from critics all the way up to its own developers is that it wasn’t even MORE expansive and awesome given how long it was hyped, and if that’s the biggest issue with the game then I’d say it’s in pretty good shape.

11. Super Mario Galaxy - Super Mario 64 may be held back a little by how its aged, but no such thing is holding back Super Mario Galaxy. Super Mario Odyssey might be as good or possibly even better, but I just don’t hold the same feelings of amazement and respect toward it that I do for this game. From the blitzkrieg-style attack on the Mushroom Kingdom by Bowser to the discovery of Rosalina’s space station, this game had me hooked from the first few minutes, especially with it blaring that awesome orchestral score the whole way through. To this day, I maintain that this is Mario’s greatest 3D adventure. It’s simply magnificent.

10. Final Fantasy X - Ha! See what I did there? This game has caught flak for some of the awkwardness that comes from being the first fully 3D entry in the series, but I think that’s tantamount to nitpicking when compared to all it does right. To me, this was the last really good installment of the main Final Fantasy series, with a story and world so brilliantly developed that the game earned the immediate breakthrough success and acclaim that it found in its native Japan. 20 years later and, as the HD remaster has shown, it still holds up as one of the most engaging JRPG experiences I’ve ever had the pleasure of having.

9. Banjo-Kazooie - At the time, this was basically Rare’s copycat version of Super Mario 64, although considered about as good. Now, however, there’s a difference: the aging issues I mentioned for Super Mario 64 don’t apply for Banjo-Kazooie. Whether replaying it on the Nintendo 64 or on whichever Xbox you’ve got, this game is still just as fun, imaginative and hilarious now as it was back then. It’s quite possibly the greatest 3D platformer ever made.

8. Pokemon Crystal - The definitive edition of the Gold & Silver games of Pokemon’s second generation, taking what was already a phenomenal advancement and improvement to the first generation and making it even better with additional features such as the ability to play as a girl for the first time and a more clearly defined storyline centered around the legendary Pokemon featured on the game’s box art. Pokemon had been written off as just a passing fad up until this point. This was when its staying power as a video game juggernaut was proven.

7. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild - Talk about a win right out of the gate for the Nintendo Switch! This game returns the Legend of Zelda series to its roots while also applying all that has been made possible in video games since the original game’s release, and the result is an enthralling, addictive, open world masterpiece that has set a new standard of quality for both the Zelda series and for many modern video games in general.

6. Kingdom Hearts II - The Final Mix edition to be precise, although in this day and age that’s basically the only edition people are playing anyway. This game is the apotheosis of Kingdom Hearts as both a video game series and as a concept; filled to the brim with Disney magic and Square Enix RPG expertise and paired with some of the most refined action-based gameplay there is. And when it comes to bringing the original Kingdom Hearts trilogy’s story to a close, does this game ever stick the landing. The series could have ended right here and I would have been completely satisfied (and its reputation would be a lot better off, too!)

5. Pokemon Yellow - While I maintain that this game, the definitive edition of the original first generation Pokemon games, still holds up as fun to play even now, I’ll admit that it’s pure bias that it ranks so high. It was the first proper video game I ever played, there was no way I was leaving it off the top 5! Its blissful nostalgic atmosphere is always such a delight to return to.

4. Banjo-Tooie - Remember when I said Banjo-Kazooie was “quite possibly the greatest 3D platformer ever made”? The “quite possibly” is because its in stiff competition with its own sequel! And personally, I’m in Banjo-Tooie’s corner; something about how inter-connected its worlds are and the addition of so many things to do all while maintaining your full moveset from the original game is just beautiful to me. Both it and its predecessor are like obstacle courses that I never tire of running through, which is the hallmark of brilliant game design.

3. Kingdom Hearts - Another case where the sequel may be the superior game, but my own personal preference leans toward the original. And in this case, it’s a highly personal preference: this game and my memories of playing it for the first time are so very dear to me. The characters and worlds of Disney put into an epic crossover RPG was like a dream come true for me and no matter how far the series it spawned has deteriorated, nothing can detract from the magic of this game. It’s got a certain, indescribable feel and atmosphere that’s never truly been replicated, and that feel and atmosphere still holds up whenever I revisit it. The gameplay may not be the best, particularly when compared to Kingdom Hearts II’s, but the charm of the story and the characters and the world and the very concept more than makes up for that. As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of Disney and Square’s greatest masterpieces.

2. Final Fantasy VII - I was aware of the hype this game got and was totally ready to call it overrated, but damn it, it got me! I don’t know what it is about this game with its blocky early 3D graphics, poor sound quality to its excellent soundtrack, and frequently mistranslated script that proved to be so gripping and enjoyable to play through, but man did it ever Limit Break its way into my heart. This is considered a JRPG classic for a damn good reason.

1. The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time - Do I really need to explain this one? It’s famous for being frequently cited as one of the greatest video games ever made, and like Final Fantasy VII, its hype is well-deserved and totally justified. Whether you’re playing it on the Nintendo 64, the Gamecube, the Wii, the 3DS, and hopefully the Nintendo Switch in the future, there is a magic quality to this game that permeates through every step you take in its fully 3D world. It’s a triumph that has stood the test of time, cementing the Zelda series as truly legendary.

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: How ODDTAXI's Big Cast Keeps Its Mystery Interesting

  How many different characters can an anime have before things get too hairy? Or — furry?

  Animal crime drama ODDTAXI takes its menagerie of a cast very seriously. ODDTAXI is about walrus taxi driver Odokawa, a runaway girl, organized crime, idols, and city living. It shares a “panoramic” day-in-the-life angle … with a twist. Despite its unique anthropomorphic animal character designs, its world is grounded in a reality where species is the least of anyone’s concerns.

  Taichi Kabawa explains the importance of social media to old man Odokawa

  EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED

  You won’t find one-dimensional prey versus predator dynamics or a shallow status quo vaguely resembling a food chain. ODDTAXI’s cast unexpectedly finds themselves in Rashomon-esque contradictions and conspiracies with all the modern conveniences of social media.

  Mystery Kiss members Shiho Ichimura and Yuki Mitsuya contemplate their future

  Rather than tell a linear story, ODDTAXI insists on showing us offbeat paths, as if we were a city-dweller bumping into eccentric personalities across the street. What matters most is first impressions: your job, gender, income. Even the most mundane facts can change everything.

  Sensational idol Rui Nikaido and fanboy Shun Imai at a polaroid event

ODDTAXI hits the ground running introducing about a dozen major characters, zig-zagging perspectives between cab rides. Until Episode 4 — “Tanaka’s Revolution.” This anomaly in pacing throws a wrench into everything we assume we know. After giving a random, supposedly one-off character an episode about his moral crusade, nothing can be taken for granted. It’s a risky move, but it pays off.

  When you accidentally turn on selfie mode

  ODDTAXI’s “panoramic” pacing gets away with this by adding more pieces to an already incomplete puzzle. By introducing every character with the intent to break first impressions, we are forced to reconsider how ensemble casts make a mystery richer.

  WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

  Odokawa is boring by design. He’s a 41-year-old with a laid-back attitude toward essentially everything, including gangster baboons pointing guns at his head. Odokawa says he’s like an authentic bartender: someone who knows keeping secrets is half the job. Keeping a missing high school girl in his apartment feels more like an aside than a plot twist — the first question asked in Episode 1 is answered before the credits roll.

  Shirakawa rides with Odokawa

  Odokawa’s private cab service is for everyone. His ability to make easy rapport might as well be a façade depending on who gets in. Alpaca nurse Shirakawa is stealing pharmaceutical medication, Odokawa assumes she’s just naive. We catch glimpses of a hopeless bachelor trying to find a girlfriend, a struggling idol group, gangsters, a student trying to go viral — what are they all hiding? There’s a niche for everyone in this tidy metropolitan ecosystem, even if it’s just “bachelor” or “idol fanboy.” First impressions lead us to assumptions any anonymous taxi driver would have. This is why introducing so many players at once works.

  Odokawa recounts seeing Shirakawa meeting with notorious gangster, Dobu

  Dominos begin falling when Shirakawa’s activity leads back to a violent gangster named Dobu. She’s played as a possible love interest to melt Odokawa’s old, icy heart. It’s not exactly a slow burn, but by the time Odokawa becomes suspicious of this innocent-looking nurse, ODDTAXI’s omniscient bird’s-eye view of the city makes everything situational irony. Text messages we aren’t supposed to see, shady yet familiar figures in alleys … even when we’re not behind the wheel, we know just enough to piece it together.

  AGAINST TYPECASTING

  Rui Nikaido behind the scenes at an idol Halloween event

  Toy poodle Rui Nikaido leads the girl group trio Mystery Kiss. ODDTAXI feeds us snippets of Mystery Kiss on TV and the radio, but never the big picture. Unsurprisingly, the idol industry isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Mystery Kiss is presenting a face-façade. It’s not even subtle: Rui’s backup dancers are contractually obligated to wear masks so Rui stands out — quite literally making them “two-faced” with contempt. By Episode 5, Shiho suggests that Rui is so ambitious she might’ve already killed someone to get ahead. Mystery Kiss is a microcosm of ODDTAXI’s ensemble cast at large. Everyone wears masks even when they don’t want to.

  Pretty in pink, better in leather.

Episode 2 shows Mystery Kiss fanboy Shun having a sincere heart-to-heart with Rui during an event. She tells him the business is hard and sales are underwhelming. Afterward, we see Rui and her manager behind the scenes: a jaded-looking Rui sports a punk leather jacket. Even the tell-all idol persona Shun saw earlier wasn’t the “real” Rui. In fact, Mystery Kiss’ manager, a bodyguard-sized fox, is withholding information from the girls. ODDTAXI doesn’t waste time putting its ensemble through the wringer of mask-breaking situations. First, come the disguises, then always harsh reality.

  Shiho tells her manager what she really thinks of Rui

  PROTAGONIST SYNDROME

  Let’s come full circle. By the end of Episode 3, ODDTAXI gives us enough hints to realize Shirakawa and Mystery Kiss are perhaps part of something bigger. Not to mention the uncanny resemblance between an 18-year-old and Shiho partaking in dubious behavior on a dating app, or a possible gangster conspiracy against Odokawa. Unsuccessful manzai comedians confide to Odokawa about the competitive entertainment industry, while two policemen meerkat brothers play favorites with criminals. The world is an unfair anti-meritocracy, but no one’s insisting they’re the special hero who will fix it. Except for Tanaka.

  Tanaka cries tears of joy when he finally pulls a dodo in the mobile game “Zooden”

This is why “Tanaka’s Revolution” is refreshing despite being so jarring. In Episode 3, Odokawa nearly has a hit-and-run with Tanaka, causing him to break his phone. A dodo flashing on his screen before it shatters: “The bird that went extinct without ever learning to fly,” Tanaka monologues. “Perhaps I was projecting myself onto it. It was just like me.”

  "No, if I died here without achieving anything, I wouldn't even be Rare. I'd just be normal."

  What happens next breaks convention by switching gears to the first-person. Tanaka’s childhood obsession with erasers mutates into a life-consuming compulsion to acquire a rare gacha character. ODDTAXI’s “panoramic” perspective is stretched to painful extremes by unexpectedly introducing a narrator so self-aware of his obsession with status it emotionally wrecks him.

  Tanaka’s sacred dodo is deleted from his Zooden account after his phone is repaired

  SHARE THE ROAD

  Compared to Odokawa’s perpetual rotation of passengers, Tanaka’s voice is straightforward. He details his backstory until we know him better than Odokawa. Why frame an episode like this? Tanaka’s narcissism. It’s what makes him, and this episode, black sheep. In a world where everyone’s a main character, Tanaka suffers from toxic protagonist syndrome. His inability to accept reality for what it is leads him down a violent crusade. This episode doesn’t just serve to contextualize Tanaka in the ensemble itself but is also a warning against seeing only black and white.

  Odokawa drives with Mystery Kiss’s manager

With clever delivery of characters being in the right time and place, ODDTAXI is a rare breed of drama that prioritizes nuance. It’s a true testament to how ensemble casts best reflect the messy, unpredictable aspects of life. Although Odakawa isn’t without his own biases — no one is a perfect judge of character — you couldn’t have a better guide for this gallery of oddballs. When we start thinking of everyone as an empathic eccentric starring in their own backseat confessional down a bumpy road, we learn to listen.

    Which member of ODDTAXI's eccentric critter cast speaks to you? Let us know in the comments!

        Blake P. is a weekly columnist for Crunchyroll Features. His twitter is @_dispossessed. His bylines include Fanbyte, VRV, Unwinnable, and more. He stans Ichimura.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Blake Planty

[sternbilder]

YTTD Thought Dump

Ok I didn’t liveblog this bc I was too busy yelling about it in Yaejin’s and Jenny’s inboxes but I’ve played/watched all parts of this game at least twice now and sometimes in multiple languages and I’m gonna dump all my thoughts and WMGs here bc I have QUESTIONS for Mr. Nankidai

Gashu said something about everyone being ~destined to be winners~, or something? Highly suspicious, what does this mean

Like is this a ZE situation or

In the quick draw minigame, Sou has the power of premonition. Why? 

Esper confirmed, or is this just a hint at his secret knowledge?

Who is the unconscious person in the back of Miley's room?

Could it be Joe or Kai? Or maybe someone from the Hades incident?

Are ASU-NARO and the “””shady organization””” that won out in the Hades incident one and the same?

Hayasaka wonders aloud if the death game is for Sara's sake (Kai also mentions this in his letter to Sara). But why......

Miley claims that Gashu is trying to destroy the death game, and yet he takes his own life to continue it? Whose side is Gashu on? Whose side is Miley on?

Also Miley is the one who gives Sara the list of percentages...why

Who is the person Miley is talking to on the first floor? Some have theorized that Joe is the mastermind but it couldn't be, since we know Sara can recognize Joe by voice

Was this even Miley? The name label had a question mark after, could this have been someone else?

Why did Safalin help Sara by giving her Rio's chip? Whose side is she on?

The file from Kai's computer mentions that Joe should be “watched” because they can't add anyone else. Was Joe not supposed to be there? If they weren’t expecting him there, why was Shin able to start up the Joe AI? Did they have one prepared just in case?

There were only 9 monitors in the monitor room (Sara, Keiji, Shin, Mishima, Q-taro, Reko, Gin, Alice, Kanna), so it at least seems like there was no AI planned for him

Kai, Joe, and Kugie were some of the first to die. They were among the 4 who weren't candidates (besides Sou). We know that Nao was on that list, and Gashu purposely sabotaged her so that she would get the Sacrifice card. Did they really get unlucky, or were their deaths all planned?

Kai says his father says the death game's objective is neither pleasure not revenge. Then what is it for?

Shin, Keiji, and Reko seemed to recognize Sou's face when they see it on the laptop. But why did Kanna and Q-taro also recognize him? Could he also have been an orphan at Asunaro? And could he also be Kanna's biological brother? 

If this is the case, this might explain Kanna's fondness for "Sou"

Also possible that Sou went out of his way to involve himself in all the participants’ lives

Sou was supposed to be a participant according to Kai's hacking, but he wasn't on the percentage sheet. We know that his death was over 2 years ago. What’s the timeline of his revival and of his involvement with the runners of this death game? Was he supposed to be a participant at one point, or was he always one of them?

The game supposedly revolves around Sara, but seems to have more connections to Sou. Was this intentional? Or did Sou hijack the game? Does Sou have any relation to Sara?

When searching the medical office with Gin, he mentions that he smells blood mixed with something burning. He says this regardless of whether Alice or Reko dies, so this must be something else. Is this Mishima's head? If not, what did they burn? And why?

Where is Mishima's head, anyway? Why did it disappear and why was it never discovered?

The memorandum features characters similar to those in this death game, including Sara. Some people also note that the actions of the narrator sound similar to Shin's. Was there a need to "replicate" that death game for some reason? Is it with the exact same people, or just similar people? Why? 

The memorandum mentions that in that incident the high school girl's best friend died--was Joe's participation really unplanned then?

In the 2nd main game of that death game, a young boy and a man who she was aligned with died. This doesn't seem to match the reality of this game (Nao and Kanna/Shin)

The high school girl died in the 3rd "victim conference." Will this foreshadow events in the 3rd main game?

Gashu's hint: “Have you ever had doubts about your upbringing?” What does this mean? Could Asunaro have engineered every candidate's childhood in preparation for this game? Maybe to replicate the first death game by making the new participants as similar as possible?

Considering we don’t know Alice’s motive for murdering Sou, and Sou was able to manipulate Keiji into murdering Mr. Policeman, could Alice’s murder have been planned, too? Was Sou planning to be revived all along?

The portrait in Gashu's room was titled "Inauguration", which probably means he won the Hades incident death game and was inaugurated to the position of leader of the gangs. But since Sara doesn’t recognize them, this doesn’t seem to be Sara’s dad. How, then, is Sara’s dad involved?

Sara has a “dream” at the beginning of 2-2 of Shin bleeding out. Could this be a "hint" for what the "correct" choice is?

Sou says he wants everyone to know their "lost memories with [him]" and the reason Asunaro is having them kill each other. Does that mean they all know him? And are the two related? Did they wipe the participants' memories somehow? 

Sara mentions Safalin's device, so this is definitely possible. 

Is it possible the memory wipe was just before the events of 3-1? The participants didn't seem to react to Midori at all when they meet, even though they all had a strong reaction to seeing his face on the laptop earlier

Who died in the 4th floor locker room? It doesn't seem to be any of the dummies, but it's obviously not any of the survivors, Kugie, or Megumi. It seems like the 5th floor version was clean, so their partner must have  survived, in which case, was there another participant we're not aware of?

Actually, could it have been Hinako’s? It’s unclear why she wouldn’t say anything if this were the case, but her video showed her being lifted up with her feet dangling, and the blood stains might have been from Ranger beating her to death. If this is true, her partner would probably have had to be one of the survivors (Reko, Alice, Gin, or Kai) whose first trials we don’t already know about. Since first trials seem to tend to pair people up who have prior connections, does this mean Hinako has a connection to any of these people? If so, wouldn’t it likely be Kai, who is the only one who never makes it to 3-1?

Ranmaru said there's a human from Asunaro among them. Keiji, Q-taro, Gin, and Sara are the only survivors from both rounds. It can't be the dummies, but can it be Midori? 

He also doesn't specify that there's just one

Why does everyone recognize the consent form but Sara? What were they consenting to? It sounds like some of them were from a long time ago, from Shin's response. Why does Midori want Sara to sign it?

The 4th and 5th floor rooms seem to have connections to the participants:

Boxing ring: Kurumada

Office: Hayasaka

Police box: Keiji

School: Sara, Joe

Art Gallery: ?

Gate: ?

Library: ?

What's the purpose of Asunaro researching how to reproduce humans? This is clearly related to both the dolls/AIs and the death game, but how exactly?

Is the point of the game to prove whether positive or negative emotions make someone human? Gashu vs. Safalin might point to this, as well as Gashu attempting to sabotage the game to "prove" something

Deleted scenes imply the goal of the Asunaro research is to create the perfect AI with emotions, but still...For what purpose.....

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XXVIII)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV | Part XXVI | Part XXVII | Part XXVIII | Part XXIX

((Remind me again why I chose to use Roman Numerals for the chapters?! Anyway... ENJOY!!! <3))

Remus arrived at Black and White early in the afternoon, wearing his one and only suit. He was clean-shaven, his hair was brushed, and he looked as presentable as he could manage, all things considered.

As he entered the gallery, he noticed that there were already a few people there. James and Lily were walking around, organizing tables with food and pamphlets. There was a makeshift bar set up, where a server was sorting the alcohol and setting out glasses. Sirius was talking with a member of the waitstaff, giving directions and explaining what needed to be done throughout the night.

Still feeling the weight of anxiety pressing heavily on his shoulders, Remus headed over to the bar.

"Hey…" He managed to get out, smiling at the woman behind the counter. She gave him a confused look. "Oh, uh… I'm one of the artists. I'm… I'm allowed to be here, I promise."

"Oh!" She said, beaming at Remus. "Well, your work is very beautiful!"

"Ah… thanks…" Remus felt himself smile, despite the whole Sirius situation; it was really nice to be complimented on his work and it happened so rarely in his life. The bartender returned his grin, a slight flush falling across her cheeks.

"You'd better get used to people saying that. This night is all about you and your art."

"Heh… yeah," Remus answered awkwardly. "I suppose it is."

"You look like you could use a glass of wine…"

"You know what…" Remus eyed the collection of fancy wines behind the bar; wines that he was allowed to try for free thanks to his art. He had worked hard to get to this point, and regardless of how his personal life was looking, he knew he should still take a moment to be proud of himself. He had come so far in just a few weeks. "I think I will have one. I deserve it."

The bartender poured Remus a glass, which he graciously accepted and brought with him as he walked through the gallery. He paused in front of his most recent work, taking in the depth of the painting, remembering his emotions as he had brought it to life. He was still experiencing the same turmoil, still struggling through the same complex feelings.  

"Do not get drunk tonight," a voice said from behind the artist.

Remus froze, feeling his stomach tighten and his shoulders tense. He turned around to face Sirius, hardening his expression.

"It's a glass of wine, Sirius. I think I'm entitled to it," he spat, glaring at the gallery owner. Sirius was purposefully causing trouble at this point.

"Yes, well, we don't want any mean old gallery owners taking advantage of you when you pass out." Sirius had a sneer on his face as he taunted Remus, and the artist clenched his fists in fury.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Sirius?!" Remus' voice was louder than he intended and it rang through the gallery, echoing across the walls.

Sirius was about to retort, most likely some snide comment, when James approached them.

"Office. Both of you. Now!"

Remus had never seen James that angry before. His voice was sharp and aggressive, paired with a deep crimson glow spreading across his cheeks. The dark umber of his eyes flashed with intensity. Remus shrunk before his penetrating glare, feeling surprisingly small before the other man.

"This is my gallery, Potter! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Sirius, you're embarrassing yourself," James growled, stepping towards the gallery owner. "There are people here. Act professional. You and Remus need to go into your office and sort this shit out, do you understand me?"

Sirius looked like he was deliberating, considering his retort, before he changed his mind and turned around in a huff. He marched himself straight to the gallery office and Remus dutifully followed, feeling like a child that had just been scolded.

Once the two of them were in the office, James stuck his head through the door.

"If this isn't settled by the time the show opens, so help me—"

"Yes, James," Sirius grumbled, acting more like James' son than his brother.

James left Remus and Sirius alone in the office, closing the door behind him. Once they were by themselves, Sirius turned to Remus, glaring at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Remus snapped angrily. He was tired of Sirius playing games with him. He understood that he did something wrong, but the gallery owner had no right to provoke him and try to draw a reaction. "You're the one who came up to me!"

Sirius crossed his arms and let out a pfft while rolling his eyes.

"I was just making sure that you knew not to get drunk this evening, so as to not repeat past mistakes."

"Fuck off!" Remus yelled, forgetting himself for a moment and allowing his frustration to take over. "You know what? Yeah! I thought we hooked up while I was drunk! Is that such an absurd thought?! Is it really so farfetched that I thought I had sex with you?!"

Sirius looked taken aback.

"Yes, Remus! You were drunk!" He was clearly upset, his pale skin turning a bright shade of red across his cheeks and ears.

"So what?!" Remus shouted, finally putting words to the feelings that had been boiling up inside of him. "I thought we fucked! I've spent the past three weeks thinking about it, of course I'd assume that Drunk Remus would act on it!"

Sirius' mouth was hanging open. He blinked.

"You…"

Sirius was at a loss for words. Remus rolled his eyes and continued his tirade.

"Yeah. There it is. The whole damn truth. Pathetic little Remus had feelings for Sirius! Laugh it up! Tell me how stupid it is that someone like me could even fathom being with someone like you! I know it's insane! I get that! And I know I'm an idiot for thinking it could actually happen! And I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I thought we had sex! I'm sorry it felt like I thought you were a bad person! I didn't. I just assumed that… maybe… I just…"

Remus cut himself off. What did he assume?

"... you're not an idiot." Sirius muttered, his eyes drifting down slightly.

"Shut up, Sirius! Just… shut up! I don't need your pity! I don't need everyone's pity! I don't need people feeling bad for the pathetic artist who isn't good enough to make it on his own!" Remus didn't even know what he was yelling about at this point, he was just yelling. He was getting all of his feelings out, the ones that didn't fit into his paintings, and he seemed to have broken the damn.

"I don't think you're pathetic..."

"God dammit, Sirius! I just… I thought maybe… just maybe… there was a chance that… that you liked me too. That's why I assumed we had sex. I just… part of me… and it's so stupid, I know that. I see that now. I just didn't realize it at the time."

"... you're not stupid."

Remus stared at Sirius, completely floored. What was Sirius playing at? A moment ago, he had been inexplicably rude to Remus. Why would his tune change so suddenly?

"Don't patronize me! Don't you think you've made me feel bad enough?! I never meant to accuse you of anything! It was a mistake!"

"...I know."

Remus stopped. He stared open-mouthed at the man before him, whose face was crestfallen and… guilty?

"You know?! Yesterday you yelled at me about this!"

"I didn't know yesterday. But… I get it now."

"What are you talking about?!"

"I— I hadn't realized…" Sirius looked up at Remus, stormy grey eyes clouded with remorse. He looked lost, sincere, authentically apologetic. Remus felt his breath catch in his chest as he stared into Sirius' eyes, remembering their night together talking in the gallery. It had been so honest — a different side to Sirius that rarely came out.

"What hadn't you realized, Sirius?" Remus' voice was quivering. He was still upset, but he wasn't shouting. He didn't feel like he needed to yell anymore in order to be heard.

"I— I didn't know that you— that you wanted— " Sirius' body moved forward the slightest amount, an infinitesimally small step that brought their two worlds that much closer together. "I didn't realize that you had feelings for me."

"Fuck off," Remus swore, rolling his eyes. "Of course you knew. You've spent the past few weeks shamelessly flirting with me! Only now I realize that I was just a plaything for you." Remus didn't notice how harsh his words were until he saw the hurt painted across Sirius' features. "Is— isn't that what you were doing?"

"I… I flirted with you because I liked you, Remus… I just assumed you…" Sirius eyes flickered away for just a moment. "You never flirted back, I just assumed you weren't interested."

Remus stared at Sirius, confusion written across his face.

"The fuck? Sirius, you're… you're the gallery owner. Of course I couldn't— I just— what the hell is going on?" The artist ran a hand through his curls, trying to think, trying to sort out the past few weeks in his mind. "Then what was that out there?" He gestured wildly towards the rest of the gallery. "What the hell was that?"

"I was mad, Remus! I thought… I thought you had blamed me! I thought that you thought that I took advantage of you!" Sirius scrunched his face up in frustration— still looking surprisingly attractive— before brushing his bangs away from his eyes. "I was mad when you left and assumed we did it because I thought you thought the worst of me. I was hurt."

"I told you—"

"I know! I just… it never crossed my mind that… that you thought we hooked up because it was something you wanted to do… it just… never occurred to me that— that you'd even want to!"

"Of course I'd fucking want to…" Remus mumbled before he caught himself. "Shit… I mean… not that… I just—"

Before Remus could explain to the gallery owner why he just admitted to wanting to have sex with him, Sirius was suddenly there, in front of Remus, raising a hand to brush an errant curl from the artist's eyes. Remus blinked up into swirling blues and greys, wondering what the hell happened in the last few minutes that caused this.

"Sirius, I—"

"Remus…" Sirius muttered, barely audibly, the name lilting off his tongue. The pad of Sirius' thumb grazed Remus' cheek, an almost imperceptible touch of skin on skin. "Remus, I fancy you. I have for a while now. And I probably should have told you sooner."

"B— but…" Remus stammered, trying to make sense of everything. "But you were so mean out there… and— and— and you were so mad at me!"

"I was an idiot. I didn't think someone as perfect as you could ever care about someone as broken as me. And I built up barriers between us... I am so sorry."

Sirius' voice was tender, affectionate, paired with such an earnest gleam in his eyes. Remus felt himself melting before Sirius' smouldering gaze, felt the wall between them finally shatter.

"I'm not perfect…" Remus mumbled. It was all he could think to say in response.

"I want to kiss you…" Sirius' words were barely a whisper, and Remus' heart was racing. His mind flashed back to the previous weekend, the feeling of Sirius' lips against his own, the way their mouths moved. Remus wanted this, more than anything, but he felt a tug in his stomach. The voice in his head was warning him against this, reminding him of their dynamic, of gallery owner and artist. Sirius was in a position of power over him, and yet…

Sirius hadn't moved. He was waiting for Remus to respond. He refused to act on anything without Remus' express consent.

Remus closed his eyes and closed the gap, pressing his lips into Sirius'. He felt Sirius' hand cup his face, the other one weaving around his body. He felt Sirius' lips moving in sync with his own. Remus could have sworn that he was floating, his feet lifting off the ground. He felt fireworks in his stomach, exploding and crackling and causing a ruckus so loud, he was sure Sirius could hear it.

This was exactly where Remus wanted to be— where he wanted to spend the rest of his life— right there in Sirius' arms.

Knock knock knock.

Remus almost yelped, he was so startled. He immediately pulled away from Sirius, breaking their connection and the magic that tied them together. The expression on Sirius' face told Remus that he was equally as surprised and dismayed.

"I don't hear yelling. Should I be happy, or is one of you dead?"

Sirius cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"N— No one's dead, Potter. Don't worry." He turned to Remus and offered a sheepish smile before straightening himself up and adjusting his tie. "I think… I think things are worked out."

Sirius gave one last glance over to Remus, who was still standing there, mouth agape, wondering what was going on. Sirius reached out and gently brushed his fingers against Remus' arm, offering the artist a timid grin filled with emotion. Then, as if transforming into a different person altogether, Sirius turned around and threw his Gallery Owner smile onto his face.

Sirius opened the door and nodded at James, who was waiting just outside of the office.

"Not to worry, Potter. Remus has assured me that this misunderstanding won't happen again."

The artist stood in the office for a moment, briefly considering staying there all night. He shook his head out, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, and took a page from Sirius' book. The man who emerged from the office was Artist Remus: feigning confidence and ready to perform the song and dance required of him to sell his work.

((So? Was it all worth the wait? ;) ))

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 10

Previous: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

Pairings: Light Jungkook x Reader 

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Ratings: PG13

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: She finds Taehyung at the local dog park, an unfamiliar face by his side. 

Tailing Taehyung

Present Day

          I’ll be honest, this is my favorite part of the job. Music low, tinted windows, unmarked baseball cap adorning my head, GPS tracking my every move so I can retrace my steps. I’ve already downed a grande latte, two bagels and a family sized bag of sour skittles. But it’s the quiet waiting, the planning of every move, the sleuthing and interpreting, anticipating another person’s every move.

         Kim Seokjin is predictable. He gets up, goes to work, comes home. There’s no romantic partner, no gym time, nothing. His office building, non-descript, standard skyscraper. It’s painful how predictable he is. Which is why after three days, I begin to search for another name on Euna’s list. Kim Taehyung.

         He’s easier to track, beloved librarian, he works at the downtown branch where he packs the house for his weekly story hour. Costumes, characters, voices, he commands the room, never demanding adoration because it’s so freely given. His name at the Library, though, is not Kim Taehyung, but Jung Taehyung, as if he got married and changed his name without telling anyone. My only indication that they’re the same person are photos from Euna.

         Tailing Taehyung is thrilling. He’s going to book launches, gallery openings, museum exhibits, clubbing, and on a few nights, stays late to close the library. Those are my favorite, he puts headphones on and dances around the library, re-shelving children’s books and shaking his ass. He lives across town from Seokjin, in a quaint house with a green door. He seems to have an abundance of friends, rarely goes out with the same people twice in one week. No partner on record, no flirting or taking someone home with him. He does have a dog, something he must’ve picked up after leaving the Lee’s.

         Picking up Johnson from my sister’s house, I park near the dog park by Taehyung’s house, a frequent weekend spot. He might go to different clubs every Thursday or try a new restaurant with a pair of gentlemen, but he goes to the same dog park on both Saturday and Sunday, then to the coffee shop on the corner, where he tries a new drink on Saturday. If he likes the drink, he gets it again on Sunday, but if he hates it, he picks something new. He never orders coffee, only tea and juice concoctions. How he exists, with all that energy, and no coffee, I will never understand.

         Another thing I will never understand is Johnson. A golden doodle with a slight limp, she’s both deeply loving and simultaneously polarizing. She runs hot and cold, licking you one minute, growling the next. There’s no reason for her split personality, her ability to turn on a dime, but I’d like to think Johnson is struggling with her identity and would really benefit from therapy. At two years old, still fully a puppy, she has gone to obedience school three times, and is only truly unkept when forced to be with humans for too long. The dog park is her happy place. She loves running around, sniffing everything, frolicking in the grass, no leash, totally free.

         What a blessing to borrow my sisters fur baby to ensnare Kim Taehyung.

         Maisy pulls me towards the dog park, excitement coursing through her body. It takes everything in me to not drop the leash and let her go, but she has a high chance of running into traffic and her death cannot be on my conscience. Within moments of stepping into the park, I spot Taehyung and his little pup. A black and gold Pomeranian, he weighs the same as Johnson’s front paws. Taehyung stands, sunglasses on, black hair parted slightly to reveal his honeyed forehead. He looks too cool for school, and I’d believe he was, if he wasn’t laughing energetically at the man to his right. The man is familiar, one of the usual men he tries a new restaurant with every Tuesday.

         Setting Maisy free, I move around the park, monitoring her, hoping she’ll land exactly where I want her to.

         The initial contact with a mark, or suspect, is the most precarious. I can’t come on too strong, can’t give too much away or seem too eager. I have to have every moment planned in order to get the information I need. In this case, it’s getting close enough that I can speak with Tae to find out what he knows regarding Lee Euna and her family, and maybe see if he’ll drop hints about her manifesto.

         I circle the park, my eyes on Johnson and Taehyung, slowly moving closer to the man and his friend.

         “Did you catch the end of the game last night?” The other man asks.

         “No, was I supposed to?” Taehyung responds.

         “It’s too early in the season to be calling it, but they’ve got a chance to go to the Superbowl,”

         “Huh,”

         “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt,” I say, turning my body to face them. “Is that your dog? The little one?”

         “Yeah, it is,” Taehyung answers, smiling lightly at me.

         “It’s so cute, what’s its name?”

         “Yeontan, or Tannie,”

         “Adorable, is that Korean?” I ask.

         “Yes,”

         “Very cool, my boyfriend’s Korean,” I lie. Jungkook isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I’ve slept with once and fallen asleep next to twice … or whatever.

         “Nice, I wonder if we know him,” Taehyung said. “What’s his last name?”

         “Jeon,” I tell them. I clock the miniscule movement in their brows, the exchanged glance, but I don’t know what it means.

         “Not too many of those, what’s his first name?” The man next to Taehyung asks.

         “Jungkook” I tell them. My eyes don’t leave their faces as they both nod, neither daring to share a glance.

         “I don’t think I know him,” Taehyung says.

         “Well, what are your names? I can ask him if maybe he knows you?” I offer. Take the bait, take the bait.

         “I’m Taehyung, this is Jimin,” He says.

         “Y/N,” I offer my hand to shake, which they each accept.

         This is my moment, “This is going to sound crazy, but do you know Lee Euna?”

         “Who?” Jimin asks.

         I scrutinize his features, no slight quiver of the upper lip, no pupils dilating, no quickened breath. “Lee Euna, she’s part of the family that owns Lee Enterprises?”

         “Oh, Lee Enterprises, I’ve heard of them, they’re brokers?” Jimin asks.

         “Traders,” Taehyung responds.

         “Candlestick makers,” I finish the rhyme, both men look at me quizzically, then laugh. “They do banking and stock trading for the top 0.01% of society, royals, billionaires, human traffickers, etc.”

         “Ah,” Jimin nods. “Not my area of expertise.”

         Agreeing, Taehyung nods, “Mine either,”

         “Same,” I add. Maisy runs up to me and begins growling at the men I’m standing with. “Johnson Maisy Lou, knock it off,”

         “Johnson Maisy Lou?” Taehyung laughs.

         “I didn’t name her,” I shrug.

         “Her?” Jimin continues laughing. He’s like, really pretty.

         “Yeah, my sister’s dog. She gives no shits when it comes to gender norms. Johnson was a bet she lost though,” I inform them. I reattach Maisy’s leash and give her a good once over. “You ready?”

         She wags her tail in response.

         “It was nice to meet you guys, maybe I’ll see you next weekend?” I smile again, friendly and kind to a flaw.

         “Yeah, bring your boyfriend, we might have some friends in common,” Jimin smiles again.

         I wave before dragging Maisy back to the trail and slowly to the car. They know Jungkook, I don’t know how, or why, but something in their reaction tells me that they are more than just friendly with him. Maybe they went to school together? Or worked together before their respective positions at the library and whatever Jimin does? That would answer few questions but makes me feel uneasy.

         When I return to my car, I’m met with a familiar sight. An envelope resting on my driver’s seat. Car locked, windows intact, it sits, waiting. My blood runs cold, chills down my spine as I stare. I swallow the bile in the back of my throat and survey my surroundings.

         “The first was a warning shot. This is your last chance. Stop. Looking.”

         I panic, glancing all around me, trying to find someone who stands out in the weekend shuffle. There’s no absurdly dressed person, no one in a weird hat or harboring a long-range camera, no one glancing at me in my sheer panic, fear pushing my fight or flight into overdrive.

         Choosing a stance somewhere between fear and power, I walk swiftly towards the coffee shop. Ordering a concoction I’ve heard Taehyung order, I ask the cashier a leading question.

         “That’ll be $3.57,” He smiles. I glance at his nametag, Robert.

         “Thanks, Robert. Can I ask you something?”

         “Of course!” He answers.

         “You see that black car?” I point towards the general direction of my vehicle. “Have you seen anyone approach it in the last hour?”

         “No, but I just started my shift twenty minutes ago,” Robert informs me.

         “Okay, thanks,” I move out of the way and watch as other customers flit through the shop, the open concept rustic café is a hot spot, known for their tea infusions and gluten free pastries, it’s a hot ticket. The line is often out the door, and everyone who works here receives massive tips. I don’t know who gives their spare change, but I’ve seen the jar completely full on more than one occasion. Tipping for leaf water is preposterous, but then again, a good cup of leaf water is hard to find. I think, I’ve never really truly looked for it.

         After giving myself 30 minutes to calm down, I head back to my car, taking the note and slipping it into an evidence bag. I drive the 15 to my sisters, knocking aggressively as I am positive Maisy is one bark away from biting me.

         “Did you have to bring her back?” C asks, opening the door.

         “I don’t want to be arrested for dog-abuse, that’s a serious crime,” I hand her Maisy’s leash, and she obediently retreats into the house, running towards her food bowl.

         “Oh, I’ll stick the ASPCA on you for sure. How was she?” C asks, stepping back to allow me into the house.

         I sigh, “Useful, did exactly what I needed her to.”

         “That might be the first time in her life she’s listened to directions,” C laughs. “Water?”

         “And probably the last, isn’t that right Johnson Maisy?” I ruffle behind her ears and take the can of Bubly from my sister.

         “How’s your little man friend?” She asks, hope in her eyes.

         “He’s not little, and he’s not a friend,” I correct her.

         “Right, right, how’s lover boy?”

         “Don’t call him that,” I squeeze my eyes closed, knowing full well where she’s headed.

         “Oh, baby, how’s baby?” She does her best Jennifer Grey impression.

         “You’re the worst. And he’s fine,”

         “Have you been seeing him regularly? What’s his name again? JK? Did his parents just really like New York Undercover? Or I’m sorry, the Killing Joke?” C laughs at her own jokes, which makes me hate her cleverness even more.

         “Jungkook, and yes you can call him JK,” I sip on the pineapple flavored sparkling H2O.

         “And?”

         “He’s great, he’s wonderful, he’s sexy and intelligent and thoughtful and kind and I could swim in his Bambi eyes forever, okay?”

         She laughs at my tone, frustration evident as I blush profusely.

         “You like him,” She sings. 

           “Too much it seems,” I roll my eyes.

         “Are the feelings mutual?”

         “He took me to breakfast, after dancing, we didn’t have sex, and then, he took me to dinner and a movie the next day, a ‘traditional date’ as he called it. It’s been a month? Not even, and I think about him constantly. I want to see him every second of everyday and I feel so sad when he’s gone. I’m literally handing him my heart to break and I think, all signs are pointing to him handing me his,” I bury my face in my hands, feeling the heat radiate onto my palms. Why is this so embarrassing?

         “Are you going to take it?” C asks.

         “Haven’t I already?”

         C lets it hang I the air, my willing acceptance of heartache at the hands of this lionhearted man, my willingness to be absolutely gutted by him, and in return, his vulnerability to be tossed out like every other man who has ever dared to get close to me.

         “Maybe he’s worthy,” C offers.

         Shaking my head, “It’s not about being worthy, I don’t deserve anyone.”

         “No, no one deserves anything except basic human rights, food, shelter, education, healthcare… but maybe you’ve found a guy who is actually going to be supportive and challenging, someone who isn’t scared of your callousness and thrives in your ability to love without bounds. Maybe he’s that person for you.” Her stare is knowing, and I hate how correct she could possibly be. I hate that I’m falling so quickly, and I hate that he might be falling too. It’s easier when one person has the upper hand, when a bluff pays off with a win. But if we both fold, then are hearts become collateral, and to whom the pieces go becomes a mystery.

         “Can we please stop talking about him?” I request, the tears brimming giving way to my distress.

         C smiles softly, her knowing sisterly gaze on my tears. “Absolute. How’s the case going?”

         “Fine, I found another guy with Taehyung, they both seem to know Jungkook, but I don’t know how they know him or why they lied about it. Neither mentioned anything that was useful,” I wipe the few tears away and pick up my drink.

         “Will you keep digging?” She asks.

         “I’m not sure there’s much more to dig. Euna has her list, she knows what they did, she doesn’t want proof that they’re guilty, she just wants to know where she can find them.” I inform her.

         “That’s the business you’re in, finding people who don’t want to be found?” C clarifies. She knows better than anyone what I do. Though I function in dark allies and make backroom deals, C follows the letter of the law and works for a branch of the CIA. Doing what, I do not know, but she understands the importance of hiding, and the lengths people will go to, to remain out of sight.

         “It’s not my job to protect them, C, if I can find them, anyone can.”

         “Why does she want to find them?”

         “Revenge is my guess, why she had to come to me when she’s worth billions is beyond my understanding. She could’ve hired anyone, had a mole in the government search, literally anything other than showing up at my broken-down door,”

         C pauses, “What if they’re in witness protection? What if she was abusive?”

         “They’re not in witness, if they were, they wouldn’t use their real names or live in the same city she does. That and you would’ve found out. And, there are no records of abuse in the system, no restraining orders, nothing.”

         “Could they be hiding from her?” C questions.

         “In plain sight?” I counter.

         She laughs. “Staring Mary McCormack now streaming on Amazon Prime.”

         “I’m leaving,” I roll my eyes.

         “Just, be careful, okay?” She reaches for me, and I enter her embrace. Sister hugs always carry more weight.

         “I will be,” I say into her hair.

         “Don’t dig a hole bigger than you can fill,” She kisses my cheek gently, her lip gloss sticking to my skin.

         “That’s not a saying,” I reply as I wipe the goo from my face.

         “Don’t care. Love you,” C stares me down, her words echoing through me.

         “Love you, mean it,” I respond, and her shoulders relax.

         We haven’t always had the best relationship, the most love, the most respect. She’s anal and controlling, I’m easy going and dare I say, happy? We’ve always been opposites, she loved analytics, statistics, history. I craved action, drama, constant stimulation. We both love puzzles, though hers remain recreational and mine professional. At our core, we’re cut from the same cloth. Mannerisms mimicking the other, eyes of similar shape, looking enough like sisters to never be questioned.

         But she’s right.

         Am I digging a hole bigger than what I can fill? Has Lee Euna, Euna Lee, set me up to completely fail? Do these men want to remain in hiding, and if so, what’s the level of risk I am putting them at?

         Maybe solving the mystery of who the man was with Taehyung will guide me towards an answer.

Next: Codename Another Shot at Love Pt. 4

[ggukcangetit]

Tomorrow: Jungkook x Reader

**

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff. Grad student au!; grad student! jungkook; grad student! reader; grad student! bts

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Suggestive language, mild kissing. Not much else really.

Summary: At the beginning of your third year of your PhD program, you didn’t expect many changes. Until the new PhD cohort started classes, and Jeon Jungkook became part of your group of friends.

A/N: i just wrote this randomly with zero plot in mind. idk what this ended up becoming but read it and lemme know if you like it? 

“Choi is a madwoman. I swear she makes me do so many lit reviews just to see me suffer.” Park Jimin, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at HopeWorld dance studio, and is currently regretting many of his life choices.

“I told you not to say yes to every single project that came your way.” Min Yoongi, 4th year PhD student, weekend DJ at Club Moonlight, recipient of the university’s most prestigious research grant, currently lives in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“We’re older. Which means we have more experience. Which means we tend to be right more often.” Kim Seokjin, another 4th year PhD student, enrolled into the PhD program after realising that the completion of his MBA meant he would have to join the family business, amateur chef with professional sass, and sole reason behind Min Yoongi being able to afford living in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“Not when you bet Tae he couldn’t finish grading Kang’s first year Intro class papers in 24 hours.” Jung Hoseok, 3rd year PhD student, simultaneously working on a second Master’s degree, also happens to run HopeWorld dance studio during his oodles of free time.

“Speaking of, weren’t you supposed to treat us if you lost the bet, Seokjin?” Kim Namjoon, 3rd year PhD student, plant dad, head of the graduate student council, and all-around overachiever.

“Tae was supposed to choose the place. Did you decide on which exorbitantly expensive restaurant Seokjin is going to take us to, Tae?” Y/L/N Y/N, 3rd year PhD student, roommates with Namjoon and Hoseok, addicted to bubble tea.

“I have a better plan. The incoming first year PhDs are supposed to have their orientation tomorrow. I think Seokjin should organise a mixer to welcome them.” Kim Taehyung, aforementioned ‘Tae’, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at the local art gallery, roommates with Park Jimin, deceptively fast at grading papers.

“I do not remember agreeing to that,” said Seokjin, with a frown, shutting his laptop with a definitive snap.

“Come on, it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Yoongi remarked, not having looked up from the large stack of papers in front of him. “If you can insist on paying 3/4ths of the ridiculously high rent of our apartment even though we could have moved into the perfectly reasonable priced place 20 minutes away from the lab, you can damn well afford to host a mixer for the incoming cohort.”

“20 minutes by car. It takes 45 minutes to walk there, Yoongi. Or do I need to remind you of the fact that only Y/N and Sooyoung own cars in our department?” scoffed Seokjin.

“Do I hear trouble in paradise? Have Yoongi and Seokjin finally had their first fight after years of marital bliss?” Lim Sooyoung, 4th year PhD student, part-time yoga instructor, full-time reluctant designated driver due to being the only other PhD student in the department with a car. 

“Hilarious,” grumbled Seokjin. “That joke is about as old as the milk carton at the bottom of Namjoon’s fridge.”

“That’s still there?” asked Hoseok, scandalised. “You told me you threw that out 4 months ago!”

“It’s a limited edition Blue Bean milk carton! I couldn’t throw it out, Hobi,” replied Namjoon, sheepishly. The use of Hoseok’s nickname meant that he had run out of logical arguments against throwing out the milk carton that had been purchased three months into their first year of doctoral studies. 

“Have you ever considered emptying out the contents and keeping just the carton?” you asked. This suggestion was met with the raising of an eyebrow and the throwing of an airpod by Namjoon. Unfortunately, this also meant that the airpod didn’t reach its intended target.

“Ow!” exclaimed Hoseok, rubbing the side of his face where the airpod had made contact. “This is why you’ve been through 33 pairs of airpods in the last year, Namjoon! You have dormant violent tendencies and terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“Now back to that mixer,” said Taehyung, turning towards Seokjin. “I’m thinking around 5 pm at the Underground should be good. What do you think?”

“Fine,” sighed Seokjin, reluctantly. “I’ll send a message on Slack. Who’s got the first years’ contact info?”

xxx

The next day, you found yourself struggling to find parking outside the Underground, despite it being 4.30 pm on a Tuesday. Namjoon and Hoseok were sitting at the back and discussing ways in which they could watch as many of the student films that were being shown over the weekend, while Taehyung sat shotgun and muttered to himself as he tried to destroy some kind of adversary on that godforsaken game that he always seemed to play. You whipped out your phone and started texting Sooyoung about whether she had found any parking.

SY: just parked… sending you the location… its behind the club

SY: is seokjin with you

Y/N: thanks!

Y/N: no i’ve got tae joon n hobi 

SY: ok… wonder how he’s getting here… yoongi’s with me… said seokjin left a while back

Y/N: idk… sure he found something… uber or lyft or whatever… don't worry he won't ditch lol 

Y/N: i found a spot damnnnnn. cya in a bit

SY: lol tae wouldn’t let him live if he ditched

SY: nice :D yoongi and i are in the purple section

The purple section was undoubtedly the best spot in the Underground, as you had discovered almost 2 years ago. Being new to the city, you had basically followed Joon and Hobi wherever they went to socialize or get food. It was around the end of your second month in the program that Seokjin planned a mid-semester gathering, refusing to eat at, in his words, “another cheap taco truck masquerading as kitschy Instagram bait”. That was your first encounter with the Underground as well as your first experience in the purple section. Simply put, it had the best sofas and chairs, an abundance of vintage arcade games, easy access to the bar and food counter, and a separate music setup. It also cost a lot more to sit at the purple section, but Seokjin had never been the type to scrimp when it came to anything. It had become a kind of tradition after that; every time someone had a birthday, Seokjin would reserve the purple section for the evening. Not having grown up surrounded by luxury and riches, it was sometimes difficult for you to understand how Seokjin never thought twice before spending money on things. Then again, you doubted you would’ve been this thoughtful even if you had this kind of money at your disposal. Seokjin might’ve been hard to read at times, but his heart was in the right place.

Speaking of, you spotted Seokjin standing next to a couple of people you didn’t recognise. Deciding that this was probably the best time to get introduced to the first years, you walked over to them with a smile.

“Just deposited Joon, Hobi, and Tae near the bar. I feel sorry for your tab today, Seokjin.”

Seokjin lifted one of his thick arched eyebrows at you and then burst into his signature windshield wiper laugh. “I’ll give them a free pass today. Afterall, it’s the beginning of a new academic year!”

“You’re planning on dumping all of Kang’s data analysis on them, aren’t you?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Ah, Y/N, you know me so well,” he grinned, his features lighting up mischievously. “By the way, here’s two thirds of the new cohort. Song Yeri and Jeon Jungkook.”

You glanced at the two unfamiliar people and smiled in greeting. Yeri was a petite girl with long black hair who quickly fell into conversation with you. Jungkook, on the other hand, gave you a soft nod and walked over to where Jimin was opening a couple of beers. 

“So is Professor Kang someone we should be worried about?” asked Yeri, not giving you much time to pay much attention to Jungkook. “I wouldn’t want to be unprepared.”

Seokjin laughed at her worried tone. “Straight off the bat, huh?” 

Yeri flushed slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Oh no- I mean, it just seemed like that from your conversation!”

“Don’t worry, Yeri,” you assured her. “Seokjin’s a fourth year - not much phases him. He’s doing his PhD under Kang so he has to do tons of data analysis for her projects. Which he sometimes dumps on people who have been bothering him.”

Yeri looked suitably concerned at this new piece of information. She glanced at Seokjin’s handsome profile and smiled uncertainly. You couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. It really was difficult to get a grasp on everyone’s personalities just by their looks. Each and every guy in the department was strikingly handsome, and Sooyoung, the only other female besides you, looked like she had walked out of a fashion show. It would’ve been extremely intimidating if you hadn’t personally been a witness to how clumsy Namjoon was, how lame Seokjin’s puns were, how scared Yoongi and Hoseok were of anything remotely resembling an insect, how Tae hadn’t managed to cook a single meal without setting off the fire alarm or giving Jimin food poisoning, how Jimin often collided into objects because he was laughing too much, or how Sooyoung had gotten lost multiple times on her way to campus in spite of driving along the same road for more than 3 years. You were sure Yeri, and the other two first years, would definitely get over the initial nerves and intimidation surrounding their colleagues. In fact, if Jungkook’s animated conversation with Jimin was anything to go by, it seemed like he had gotten over that already.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others.” You steered Yeri in Sooyoung and Yoongi’s direction.

xxx

“Thanksgiving next week! I cannot wait to get away from this blasted Ethics class!” 

You were currently in Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared posh apartment, trying to proof-read a paper before the conference deadline. On the couch next to you sat Seokjin and Namjoon, eyes blinking rapidly in tiredness, while Jimin sat across from you, his silver hair tied into a messy ponytail. 

The door to the apartment swung open at that moment as Jungkook walked in, armed with takeout from at least 4 different places.

“I come bearing sustenance,” he announced, as Jimin jumped up with surprising alacrity and rushed towards him. 

“Your Busan blood runs strong, my friend,” said Jimin, appreciatively, eyeing all the different containers on the table. “I knew I could count on you.”

“That makes zero sense, Jimin,” scoffed Sooyoung. She was buried deep inside Yoongi’s favorite bean bag, having taken it over since the owner was currently not at home. “But li’l Jeon has proven to be a valuable addition to our department.”

“Ugh! Don’t call him that! Li’l Jeon sounds like something else,” you said, scrunching your nose in distaste.

“I agree,” replied Jungkook, rolling up his sleeves as he began opening the containers carefully. “But i can assure you of one thing - there is nothing li’l about this Jeon. In any sense of the word.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you declared, throwing a particularly soft pillow over your face. 

Three months into the semester and Jungkook had become an integral part of your group of friends. It had turned out that Jungkook and Jimin knew each other very well, having gone to school together in Busan. It’s not as if you hadn’t become well acquainted with the other two first years - Yeri still consulted you whenever she needed advice on how to deal with grading or professors or classes in general; and Lauren, an international student from France, was very friendly and turned up at all the department hangouts. But Jungkook seemed like he had been part of your group forever - not someone who had met almost everyone for the first time about 3 months ago. As was customary with first year PhD students, they were required to complete a few mandatory courses before being allowed to customize their coursework around their individual research interests. So even though Jungkook had all the same classes with Yeri and Lauren, almost every moment outside of classes was spent with one of you.

“I can’t believe it’s already time for Thanksgiving,” said Jimin, popping an entire dumpling into his mouth. “-ime eeli plyz.”

“Chew your food, you barbarian,” scolded Seokjin, blowing on a particularly large piece of fried chicken before putting the entirety into his mouth. A couple of chews and a large swallow later, Seokjin was ready for a second piece.

“Speak for yourself,” remarked Sooyoung, holding onto her food protectively.

“I remember Yoongi telling us during our orientation,” Namjoon piped up, a can of beer in his hand. “‘In a PhD program, days are slow, but semesters are fast’. I thought he was high at that time, but I realise now that he’s a true genius.”

“I still don’t get why you’re such a Yoongi fanboy,” grumbled Seokjin, settling comfortably into the couch once again. “I’m just as wise, and definitely a lot funnier.”

“Don’t forget about being a drama queen,” said Sooyoung, nudging Seokjin’s knee with her toes. “You’ve got that one over Yoongi as well.”

“Four years and you're still as ungrateful,” sighed Seokjin, looking uncharacteristically cheerful at the teasing. 

“At least I’m consistent,” shrugged Sooyoung. “Gimme some of your kimchi.”

“Consistency is only useful across data samples,” remarked Seokjin, picking up a small amount of kimchi with his chopsticks and feeding Sooyoung. “Not sure how desirable it is in human relationships. Life would be unbearably dull in that case.” 

“They’ve been dancing around each other for as long as I’ve known them. Why can’t they just get together and stop their incessant flirting in front of the rest of us,” you muttered darkly, vigorously pouring chili oil over your ramen. You, Namjoon, and Jungkook were still getting your food from the kitchen, while Jimin had gone ahead and joined the incessantly flirting pair in the living room.

“Y/N is always so bitter about anything to do with romance,” chuckled Namjoon. “Jungkook, do you know how annoyed she was when Hobi started dating last year?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of hearing that story.” Jungkook glanced at you cheekily, while popping open a can of beer.

“She didn’t speak to him for an entire week. Which was particularly inconvenient because the three of us had just started living in the same apartment, and we were all assigned to assist Choi on her year-end department survey. Poor Hobi thought he might have to find a new place to live.” 

“I’m sorry? Were you the one who came back home after extended office hours to find your friend butt-naked and balls-deep inside the barista who works across the street from our lab? I couldn’t get coffee from there for a month because I couldn’t look Sujin in the eye without immediately imagining Hobi in his natural drawers.”

Jungkook, who had chosen this exact moment to take a sip of beer, spat out the amber liquid on an unsuspecting Namjoon. 

“That’s what you get for deriving pleasure from other people’s misfortunes,” you remarked, smugly.

xxx

It was around 11.30 in the morning, when you heard a loud knocking on your apartment door. Classes had broken for Thanksgiving yesterday, which meant that today was your day to catch up on all the sleep you had missed over the last three months. But instead, you had been woken up much ahead of your intended 16 hours of sleep schedule. 

“You look awful.”

Jungkook walked into the apartment, looking far too fresh and sprightly for your liking. He was wearing that godforsaken plaid shirt that hung loosely off his body, but would highlight his rather well-defined muscles every time he happened to move in a particular way. You absolutely hated what a tease his shirt was. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t wearing the skin tight black jeans which always looked like they were about to burst at the seams, thanks to Jungkook’s equally well-defined thighs. 

“It’s not even noon. Why can’t you call before showing up? Where are your manners, Jeon?” you grumbled, checking to see if your pajamas had any glaring holes in them.

“I need help with the data analysis,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Professor Lee gave me a really tough dataset because I breezed through the first two assignments.”

“Still don’t see why you came over without any notice at this ungodly hour,” you continued, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I also got jjajangmyeon, kimbap, and bubble tea from Kimchi Palace.”

“What kind of bubble tea?” you asked, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

“Strawberry milk tea, half sugar, light ice, with extra strawberry jelly, and no boba.”

“I suppose it isn’t that early.”

A few minutes later, you were explaining principal component analysis to Jungkook, while eating jjajangmyeon and sipping bubble tea. The kimbap was put into the fridge for later, in case Namjoon or Hoseok wanted to have some when they got home at night. 

Jungkook was very intelligent; he picked up new concepts quite easily and was one hundred percent committed to whatever he worked on. He also had a refreshing sense of humor, where he didn’t always crack jokes or stay in the limelight, but his occasional quips were enough to send everyone into fits of laughter. He got along extremely well with each of them. He and Taehyung often walked around the city taking obscure, artsy photographs. Seokjin had basically adopted Jungkook as a younger brother due to his video gaming abilities. Namjoon was glad to finally have someone who enjoyed going on nature hikes with him, while Hoseok had been hugely impressed at Jungkook’s dancing and promptly asked him to help out at his studio. Jimin already knew Jungkook quite well, and Yoongi was more than happy to teach someone else the intricacies of cooking different kinds of meat. Even Sooyoung, who usually remained closed off from new people, had allowed Jungkook to use her car whenever someone needed to be picked up but she was too exhausted to drive. 

“I’m sorry I came by so early. I know you’ve been looking forward to catching up on sleep over the break,” he said softly, looking up from his laptop. That was the other thing that had struck you about Jungkook, he was very perceptive and sensitive to people around him. A rare quality which you appreciated far more than you let on.

“It’s fine. You saved me from having to cook lunch. That itself deserves many prizes from my end. You know how I hate cooking,” you shrugged.

“Speaking of, I’m making dinner for me and Tae tonight. Jimin’s visiting his brother, so it's just the two of us. And since I’d rather not get food poisoning, I’m putting Yoongi’s lamb chop recipe to good use,” he grinned boyishly. “You should come over if you don’t have anything else planned. It’ll save you from cooking another meal.”

“I might take you up on that offer. Let me check if either Joon or Hobi are having dinner at home, otherwise I’ll definitely be there.”

xxx

Taehyung and Jimin (and now Jungkook) lived about 10 minutes away from your place. It was a much larger apartment, so three people were more than comfortable there. Jungkook was staying there until he found another place to stay, but judging by how happy Jimin and Taehyung were with him around, he would probably end up staying with them permanently.

“I found parking at your building for the first time today,” you remarked, dropping your bag on the nearest couch. 

“Half the people are visiting family over the weekend. You won’t be so lucky next time.” Taehyung walked over lazily, his thick black hair falling messily over his eyes. He was dressed in his favorite Celine t-shirt and a pair of the loosest pants you had seen till date.

“The perm’s still looking good, Tae,” you grinned at him, taking the soda from his hand. 

“I’m planning on getting it done again once it wears off,” he said happily, settling into the couch. “Catch up on your sleep? Or did Gguk ruin your Thanksgiving plans as well?”

“‘As well’?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Taking advantage of the nearly empty laundry room and washing all the sheets does not count as ‘ruining’ anyone’s Thanksgiving plans!” yelled Jungkook from inside the kitchen.

“He woke me up at 7 am and stripped the sheets off my bed, emptied all our laundry bags, and locked me out of my room so that I wouldn’t dirty the bare mattress with my grubby clothes.” Taehyung’s grumbling was always extremely funny because he would end up pouting by the end of his rant and no one would take him seriously after that.

“Okay, the bread is in the oven and should be ready in about 15. Lamb chops are almost done as well. We’ll be dining in no time,” said Jungkook, flopping onto the couch beside you.

“That gives me enough time to answer the emails Choi sent me this morning. Jimin was right, she’s a madwoman. Doesn’t understand what ‘a break’ is , apparently,” sighed Taehyung, getting up and walking towards his room. “Lemme know when the food is ready.”

3 years ago, if anyone had told you that you would be more than halfway through your PhD having become close friends with seven of the most handsome guys on campus (or even in the country), you would’ve laughed at them and then silently questioned their sanity. But now, you couldn’t imagine life without them. Even Jungkook, you realised, glancing at the boy next to you. He had also become an extremely important part of your life. He didn’t say much, but his actions made things abundantly clear. He was extremely caring and thoughtful, even if he didn’t always have the right words to express himself. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asked, looking at you sleepily.

“That this soda is almost lukewarm.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Suddenly, you felt a rough set of fingers poking your ribcage. Slowly, but surely, you were squirming in place as you struggled to not spill your soda while Jungkook continued tickling you mercilessly. 

“I know your weakness, remember?” he managed to say between giggles, his voice turning high-pitched as it usually did when he laughed too hard. 

“Gguk stop! The soda! It’ll spill on the carpet!” you gasped, trying to keep your hand steady.

“Oh shit! Sorry. Yeah, Jimin would freak out if he saw a stain on this carpet.” Jungkook let you go so that you could place the soda can on the nearest table. But as soon as you had freed your hands, you jumped on him and pinned him on the couch.

“I also know your weakness, Gguk,” you grinned, deviously, before tickling him with all your might. 

Needless to say, a scenario with two people in their mid-twenties behaving like 4 year olds, was bound to have certain consequences. In this case, it ended with both you and Jungkook falling off the couch, your faces mere inches away from each other. 

This wasn’t the first time you had been struck by how handsome Jungkook was. In fact, you had noticed the exact number of moles on his face and neck, having stopped yourself from reaching out and touching the one under his lower lip on more than one occasion. His large doe eyes also held a certain innocence and wonder in them, even though he was an extremely bright and capable PhD student with a lot of varied knowledge bases. Not just that, his impressive physique had caught you off guard many times. Particularly because it contrasted so heavily with his boyish face.

None of that mattered at this moment, as you could feel his breath on your face. He was so close… If you reached up a little bit, you would be-

“The oven timer’s been beeping for the last 10 minutes. But you both are too busy eye-fucking each other to notice.”

Taehyung’s deep voice caused you both to spring apart from each other, mortification heating up your face and neck. Jungkook’s ears, you noticed, had turned a very beautiful shade of red as well.

Dinner wasn’t as awkward as you expected because Yoongi dropped by a few minutes after your ‘eye-fucking’ session, extremely hungry and annoyed at Seokjin - who had decided to use this night to slow cook some pork.

“Gguk, this is really good,” said Yoongi, once all of you had finished eating. “Didn’t think you’d be able to get it right on the first go! Y/N, what’d you think? You’ve been awfully quiet the whole time.”

You nodded your head in response, keenly aware of Taehyung’s intense gaze that followed your every move. “It was really good, Gguk. Thanks for a lovely meal.”

“Do you need a ride home, Yoongi?” you asked, once all the dishes had been cleared away. “I’ve got my car.”

“Life-saver. I need to pick up a tin of coffee from the convenience store. I’ll meet you at the parking lot in 10?” said Yoongi slipping on his jacket.

“Wait, I’ll go with you. I need to buy some soda,” said Taehyung, springing up suddenly. Not bothering to change out of his slippers, he rushed out after Yoongi, but not before glancing quickly between you and Jungkook and sending you a rather outrageous wink.

“That was… weird,” you remarked, relieved to see that Jungkook had missed your exchange with Taehyung. “Anyway, thanks again for a great meal. You’re a really good cook, Gguk.”

“Thanks,” he said, not really looking up from his phone. He had also been rather silent throughout the meal.

“I’m heading out then. See you later, Gguk.” You picked up your bag and proceeded to open the door.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around to find Jungkook standing rather close to you. You could see the mole below his lower lip quite clearly from here.

“You never told me what you were thinking about.” His voice was a lot more husky than usual, and you gulped as you realised you had no clue what to say to him.

“I-”

Before you could finish your half-formed sentence, Jungkook’s lips were on yours, kissing you slowly. After being frozen for a second or two, your hands made their way into his soft brown curls, relishing in the feeling of having him so close to you. You realised that you had been wanting to do this for a while now. Maybe even since the first day of classes, when he had offered you his cup of coffee after the machine in the department had stopped working. 

“Never mind,” he said, breaking the kiss with a soft ‘chu’. “You can tell me another time. Yoongi’s probably waiting at the parking lot.”

“And Tae might come back any minute now,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a soft smile on his face. 

“Tomorrow?” It seemed like your brain had short circuited. 

“Yeah.” He dipped down and placed another chaste kiss on your mouth, before displaying his adorable bunny smile. “But even that seems too far away right now.”

You were really grateful that you managed to get both yourself and Yoongi home without crashing the car that night. Once you got home, you checked your phone and found two messages - a text from Jungkook checking if you had reached home safe, and another one from Taehyung.

T: the couch is off limits. don’t even think about it...

xxx

please do not repost anywhere. reblog if you enjoyed the story!

[cinanamon]

saw this going around so describe your mutuals with a certain ~vibe~! :)

I tried to do as many mutuals that I normally talk to/interact with so I’m so sorry if I missed you!!! It’s not really an aesthetic or vibe but a scene/emotion, ig, that they reminded me of or I could envision for them...? Everyone got one scene but this ended up being way too long with all the mutuals I did too so it’s all under the cut !

@jaesmintea — You’re hard at work at your desk when your friends barge into your dorm with a dramatic flourish, pulling you out of your desk before you can even blink. Though you complain of an early class the next morning, you’re smiling, and anticipation swirls in your gut, shines in your eyes. You willingly get caught up in the storm of your friends as they animatedly prepare for another night of adventure.

@valentinesicheng — It’s about to storm. There’s a distant rumbling of thunder, and the air is heavy, though not oppressively so. You take in the comforting orange of the sunset as you push open the door of your childhood home, and you make your way up the familiar steps to begin cleaning out some old belongings that have been sitting in the storage room for a little too long. Nostalgia sits in the pit of your stomach as you rummage through each box, but you don’t feel regretful as you place items in the give away pile; objects may come and go, but memories stay.

@masterninjacow — You’re sat in a quaint, cozy corner of a cafe in Paris, late morning light caressing the furniture around you. There’s a half-eaten croissant and recently-filled mug beside you on your table, but they’re hardly at the forefront of your mind as you continue to scribble and write at the leather-bound journal in your hands. The baristas hardly bat an eye at your presence, used to you lingering at that corner table for hours as you simply write away at the fragments of time, inspiration at the tip of your pen.

@legendnct — You’re at the arcade, deep in focus as you attempt to best your friend at a dance game. Your tongue sticks out of your mouth, and you lean heavily on the bar behind you. Left, right, up, up, down, left. They beat you and you groan, but it’s good-natured as they collect their tickets. The both of you head up to the award desk to pick a prize, and they end up getting a stuffed animal which they give to you. You feel your heart swell with affection as you pull them into a hug.

@minsprings — You’re practically flying. One order down, already on the phone with another client, another friend. Writing down notes and finishing products that you wrap up neatly into a box, ready to be shipped. Once you start working, it’s hard to stop; you want to finish quickly yet well-done, and you’re almost caught off guard when you turn around to find no more work to do. It’s refreshing; it’s rewarding to know you’ve done your best, and that hard work pays off.

@coshuangmos — One. Two more. Four more stacked on top that veers to the side dangerously. You didn’t seem to notice, or rather, mind, the increasingly large pile of books beside you as you browsed the shelves. How were you supposed to pass by without taking a few? Books were invaluable; they taught you skills, they took you on adventures, they informed you and made you feel a plethora of emotions you didn’t think you’d ever experience in your everyday life. You carefully lifted your stack and made your way to the counter. You could never understand why the library was never crowded; the path of knowledge must be a well-kept secret, and people may only find out if they’d read but a page.

@xiaocity — You excitedly dropped the clothes you ordered onto your bed, and your friends watched you expectantly as you disappeared into your closet. Dramatically, you stepped out to model one of the outfits, and your friends began to laugh and cheer at your performance and fashion sense. You couldn’t hold the act for long, for a smile soon broke across your own lips and you giggled along with them.

@markswoman — It’s quite beautiful, really. Wonderfully crafted, the textured paint and vibrant colors impeccably placed to draw the viewer’s gaze around the painting. You didn’t realize how long you had been standing before the masterpiece, your hand stiff from being cupped under your chin, your blazer uncomfortably cinched around your shoulders. You clear your throat quietly as you smooth out your outfit and your features, and you glanced behind you at the rest of the gallery. Patrons amble around, stopping before statues and art pieces for only a few moments before continuing on their way again. You give the painting one more longing glance before placing your hands in your pockets and stepping away to mimick the other viewers—never realizing the beauty of a moment, the beauty of the creations of humankind.

@4-sun — You sit in your backyard, a book open on your lap and lemonade in hand. You’re supposed to head in soon, you know, but before you can stand, you hear the leaves rustling off to the side. When you look up, you’re staring into the eyes of a deer, gentle yet majestic. You regard each other with a dull sense of respect and wonder before the deer seems to nod and disappears back into the woods.

@jupitersmark — You didn’t realize you were picking up speed as you rode down your subdivision’s sidewalk. The morning air felt refreshing as you passed people walking, and you stopped pedaling to glide by. The trees and houses passed by in a blur, and you felt the urge to close your eyes and simply feel the movement of your bike, your body, your bones. Your eyes only snapped open when a crack in the sidewalk almost sent you toppling sideways.

@henderbeans — You pushed the gas station door open lazily and strode over to where your friend was sitting on the curb. You joined them, and you stretched your legs out across the asphalt as you took a swig of your slushie. The both of you nodded at some people that entered the store, and your friend passed you the hand-held fan as they pulled up a show to watch on their phone. And even though it was unbearably hot, you still rested your head upon their shoulder as the show began.

@jaemericano — “You cheated!” You gasped with a laugh as you threw a blueberry at your friend across the table. They only smiled sheepishly and laid down their cards, saying something about their luck as they took a bite out of an orange slice. The morning breeze kept the summer heat at bay from your porch, and your laughter mingled with it as it carried your voices down the road.

@yinxiong — You purse your lips as you watch the popcorn bag begin to expand in the microwave, taking its sweet time. Your friends ambled back and forth between the living room and the kitchen in search of snacks, and the ding of the microwave seemed to shock them to life as they hurried back to the couch. You snorted as you poured the popcorn into a bowl, and you happily settled between two of your friends as you pressed play, the blue light of the screen illuminating your faces.

@imaginedreamies — You’re dropping in at your favorite cafè quickly before you head to work. Though you keep checking your watch as you wait in line, the second you see the cashier, you can’t help but return their infectious smile. When did the smell of coffee become so potent? When did the atmosphere become so refreshing? And so as you wait for your drink to be made, you decide to ignore time and instead bask in the simplicity of it all.

@xingmis — The bell above the door of the old-fashioned candy shop rings, signaling your arrival. Children, with their parents in tow, dance between your legs as you make your way to the shelves. You pack an assortment of chocolates and candies into a bag, and the man behind the counter is dressed just like an old-timey worker. The shop feels so out-dated, so thrown back in time, that you can’t help the knowing smile that crosses your lips.

@nakyngs — You brushed your fingers through your dog’s fur absently, a smile playing at your lips. The second you went to pull your hand away, he whined and gave you pleading eyes. “Oh, fine, just a little while longer,” and he happily nuzzled back into your hand as your petting was renewed with an affectionate vigor, your face pressing against his scruff with a fond giggle.

[holidayblindspot]

V-Day

This is a fic by rAnsomedrOgue on FanFiction.net, who doesn’t have a Tumblr but wanted to participate. I’ll be linking her to this post, though, so if you liked the fic, please leave her a comment here! :)

***

A/N: This is all totally implausible but then again so is the entire show… Tried to write something fluffy, this is what happened.

<3 <3 <3

It was supposed to be the perfect day. He’d been thinking about it for ages. Valentine’s on a weekend, a day just for them. Time to reconnect with his wife after everything they’d been through.

Weller had filtered past a million ideas before coming up with two couple’s activities that he thought Jane would really appreciate. Things that said Jane to him, that made him push outside his own comfort zone. He didn’t want to just take her on a regular date, something boring and predictable. He loved his wife and had hurt their relationship badly. He needed to make a good showing of it.

What had boosted his confidence was the fact that she’d unexpectedly come to him the previous week, told him that she had something planned for Valentine’s Day. He’s usually the one that dealt with holidays, due to her having no memories and being raised by a terrorist.

They had ended up deciding to split the day; he got to plan the morning and afternoon, she got the evening and night.

But that all goes to shit when Weller wakes with a cloudy mind, tied to a chair.

<3 <3 <3

It had taken her forever to come up with anything good. All the traditions of holidays were baffling to her, especially blatantly commercial ones like Valentine’s Day. But she wanted to do something for Kurt, to show him how much she still loves him. They had both lied but that was behind them now. Now she just has to make sure he knows it, that he understands how much he means to her.

So Jane had google searched like mad, hadn’t even consulted with Patterson. It had to be all her effort, finding some appropriate romantic event just for Kurt.

A wormhole of key terms eventually led her to two viable options and she decided they needed to do both. When she told him that she had a date planned for Valentine’s Day he’d been completely surprised but clearly pleased. In the end it had worked out perfectly with Kurt planning daytime activities to complete the schedule. He had even looked adorably apprehensive about whatever he’d arranged, which had brought a grin to her face despite not knowing what it was.

Whatever Kurt had planned though, Jane is sure it isn’t this. Because she wakes with drug residue still in her head, their hands tied together.

<3 <3 <3

He knows it’s her by her scent, the texture of her breath. He senses the moment she stirs and rubs the side of her thumb, tells her it’s him.

They’re tied together but not gagged, which seems odd until a disembodied voice comes booming into the room.

“Welcome, Agents Weller and Doe,” the familiar snivelly voice says. “Today you face a test. The same test my own wife faced exactly seven years ago.”

Kurt groans, the source of the voice suddenly becoming clear. Edwin Scheer, a career criminal whose wife had died covering for his getaway. Weller had been the lead agent on the case, had tracked Scheer through his wife, then seen her sacrifice herself for him on Valentine’s day.

“It’s really quite simple. Whoever volunteers first will get the opportunity to die for the other. If no one volunteers, you both die by the end of the day.”

“What’s the point, you’ll just kill us both anyways,” Jane says defiantly from behind him.

“The point is, living on while suffering the guilt of bearing the sacrifice. A fate much worse than death, I’ll let you know. So no, I would certainly prefer one of you to live with the curse of eternal guilt.”

Weller knows a lot about eternal guilt, thinks how Scheer really nailed this scenario. He would definitely rather die than let Jane give her life for him. He couldn’t bear the weight of losing her, having to carry on.

She’s a runner, he knows that all too well. Also prone to being self-sacrificial, always willing to take it for the team. He can’t let her do it for him, even if it means Scheer wins.

Overprotectiveness is stamped in his DNA. He needs to save her, despite the cost. Before she takes the plunge herself.

Weller is about to open his mouth, let out panicked impulsive words when Jane grabs his hand, squeezes hard.

<3 <3 <3

He’s about to do it, fall straight into the Kurt Weller trap.

Jane reaches for him, clamps down on his fingers fiercely.

No, her hands say. You are not making this decision alone. We are in this together.

At the same time she bites back her own voice, the one that wants to yell ‘me, pick me, kill me, save him.’ Of course she would die to save Kurt, that’s the whole point.

Whoever this guy is, he’s been watching, obviously knows both their weaknesses. But right now, in a completely pitch black room, he’s probably only listening. They need a plan that doesn’t require either of them sacrificing themselves. And some method of communicating it without being heard.

She makes a pattern in his palm, uses her touch to tell him to calm down, think. When his breathing evens out she starts to fiddle with the knots on their hands, feels him use his fingers to expand the ropes, create more slack.

“This isn’t going to work,” Jane says, trying to distract their captor. “We’re not going to give in to your mind games.”

“Oh that’s what you think. There’s hours to go yet, plenty of time to think about the pointlessness of you both dying. Then there’s the part where you both get suspicious that the other is going to betray the pact, I almost can’t wait. Will there be arguing? Silence right up until one of you can’t hold back anymore? This is when you find out what someone is really made of. I know I’ll never be worthy of my wife. Now what will you find out about each other today?”

That we are stronger than this bullshit, Jane thinks to herself.

“We’ve got this, Kurt. We’re in this together,” she says. “I trust you with your life.”

<3 <3 <3

He snaps out of it just in time, the words about to slip off his tongue. Her fingers remind him that she’s there, that they’re not making decisions alone anymore. Then it’s her confident tone that slices through his fear, tells him she’s not going to run this time.

“I trust you too,” he replies. “No more secrets.”

Scheer laughs, snorts in response.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” he says. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Weller has to admit the psychopath is right, that the relative calm he currently feels will decrease steadily as time passes. But it helps that Jane has nearly freed their hands, just needs him to stretch out the ropes a bit more to get through the knots.

When their hands are untied they both quietly undo their leg restraints, then reach for each other once completely free of the ropes. The next step would be to stand and search the room that they’re in but first they need to cover the noises they’re going to make.

He’s trying to come up with some sort of conversation that doesn’t feed into the current problem when Jane starts talking, a bit louder than necessary and throwing her voice off the wall.

“So, what am I missing out on, Kurt?” she asks, while standing up slowly.

“What do you mean?” he replies, genuinely confused about her question but understanding her intent. He stands up as well, makes sure to hide any noise with his words.

“Your part of our Valentine’s date,” she says. “What were we going to do?”

Kurt groans internally, not entirely confident on the choices he had made. He had wanted to do something different, uniquely Jane. But of course then it had to be somewhat risky, because she certainly wasn’t a ‘normal’ girl.

He definitely did not want to talk about this in front of anyone other than Jane, but it was a relevant conversation to have while they silently stepped around the room, looking for an escape route. So he reaches for her hand, pulls her to him and blindly plants a kiss on her knuckles.

“Well, to start, there was this couple’s bikram yoga session,” he says, using his free hand to guide her by the hip as they slip across the floor.

“You? Yoga?” she asks, clearly surprised.

“I stretch,” he grumbles, feeling for the wall.

“But you don’t like it,” Jane replies.

“Yeah well, you do,” he says. “And it sounded kind of hot.”

She tugs hard at his hand in response, slips closer.

“It would have been very hot,” she whispers, just for him. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I would have liked that,” she says louder, as they continue around the room. “But I know that’s not all you had planned.”

Weller feels the walls, finds one locked door with what sounds like a guard behind it and nothing else of significance. He sighs to himself as he realizes they’ve almost completed a whole lap with no results.

“There was an art show too,” he admits. “A contemporary exhibit called Falling Love. At a pop up gallery that features different mediums.”

He says the words like he’s reading them off a pamphlet, has little sense of what most of them really mean. But he’d memorized it to tell her, just feels incredibly awkward doing so.

Jane relieves all of his worry with a laugh, wraps her arms around him from behind as they finish checking the walls.

“It sounds perfect,” she says, muffled into his back. “I love it.”

<3 <3 <3

Her husband is adorable. She sometimes forgets this in their danger filled day to day lives. But couple’s yoga and an art show? Those were not Kurt Weller activities. The fact that he was so willing to push his boundaries and explore her interests was beyond her expectations, made her feel flush with warmth.

She hugs him tight for as long as she dares, then puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to tell him what they should do next. Kurt picks up on her idea right away and squats down so she can climb on. Then, once she’s securely sitting on his shoulders, they start around the room again, searching for any vents or windows they could use to escape.

“So, what were we going to do after the art show?” Kurt asks, with real curiosity in his tone.

Jane grins to herself, hopes he appreciates her plans as much as she loved his.

“Well, first there was a true crime whisky tasting tour,” she says as she feels along the walls and the ceiling. “It’s prohibition themed and on an old trolley through Brooklyn. With specialty whisky flights and underground tours.”

“Whiskey and gangsters?” Kurt says with a grin she can hear. “Sounds perfectly sinful.”

He wraps his arms around her legs even tighter and she reaches down to run her fingers through his hair for a moment.

“Not as sinful as a chocolate buffet,” she replies.

“What?” he exclaims, all gleefully surprised. “You’re not serious.”

Jane laughs, leans down to kiss him on top of his head.

“Yes, there’s an entire buffet of chocolate at the Ritz and we had reservations. Plus, a room for the night, to recover from the whisky and sugar hangover.”

“Nooooooo,” Kurt moans. “How have I never heard of this chocolate buffet before?”

Jane shakes her head in amusement just before it almost smacks straight into a vent. Luckily she manages to see it in time and taps on Kurt to stop walking.

“What do they have at this buffet?” he asks as she takes out her hairpin and starts to unscrew the cover of the vent.

“Everything you can imagine,” she replies. “Pastries, cakes, fondue, crepes. Samples from all the best chocolatiers. Oh, fudge and ice cream too, of course.”

She’s got the grate off, passes it down to Kurt. Is about to crawl into the vent but he clutches onto her legs, refuses to let her go.

<3 <3 <3

Jane’s about to go into the vent they found when he realizes the problem. If they stop talking, they’re going to get figured out quickly.

Weller grabs onto her legs so she can’t get off his shoulders, knows he has to think fast or else she’s going to get impatient and just go anyways.

“That sounds too good to be true,” he says. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here because of me when we should be on the perfect date instead.”

“It’s not your fault, Kurt,” Jane replies, after a barely noticeable pause. “We’ll get through this together.”

“No, Jane. It is all my fault, you weren’t even around when this Scheer case happened,” he states. “You got dragged into this because of me. I can’t let you die here.”

“What, we just talked about this, Kurt!” she fires back. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

“I didn’t say I’d made a decision,” he argues. “Don’t put words in my mouth, I just said I can’t let you die here.”

“Which is the same thing as saying you’re going to give up on us, give up on what we decided together. So what’s the point of me even saying anything if you’re not going to respect my opinion?”

Her voice is steaming but she’s kissing the top of his head, holding him tightly from above.

“So what, you’re going to give me the silent treatment until we die here? What the hell is that going to solve?”

He squeezes her leg a specific number of times. Then does it again to confirm.

“It’ll stop me from yelling at you instead.”

She responds by reaching for his hand, gives him the same message back. Twice, like he had done.

“Fine, if that’s how you feel about this then don’t talk to me.”

He brings her thumb to his lips, plants a lingering kiss.

“Done.”

He pushes her into the vent with the last of their words and offers a silent prayer to keep her safe. Because their argument may have been fake but Weller wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t let her die there, no matter the cost.

<3 <3 <3

Jane climbs the vent straight up for a few floors before finding an exit into an unoccupied storage room. The building appears to be an abandoned warehouse and she sees no one around as she sneaks back down towards the basement.

She wonders where Scheer is, whether he’s in the warehouse, wants to do his own dirty work. It seems unlikely though, based on the state of the place. There’s nothing in it except dust and a few stray auto parts.

Jane slinks through the structure, finds a piece of broken rebar to use as a weapon. Eventually she finds a set of stairs that runs straight down towards the basement where Kurt is. For a moment she stands listening for any movement and lets herself think about the day that should have been, how fitting it was that this was what they got instead. All she can do is sigh at the circumstances, return her head to the task at hand. Kurt was still waiting for her to get him out, she needs to come through for him.

As she nears the bottom of the stairs Jane starts to move in stealthy ninja steps, peaks around the corner to see the door to their prison, the guard sitting directly in front of it. Of course the approach down the stairs is long and comes right at him, impossible to make without dying long before she gets to the door.

So Jane forces herself to be patient and wait for Kurt’s move. She had made it there in time; trusts him to play his part in their silent plan.

<3 <3 <3

When the time comes, Weller makes a racket; yells that he’s done with the game. Hollers at an imaginary Jane that he’s giving up so she can have a better life without him, because it’s obviously what she wants.

It hurts even just to say it but he has to make it realistic. Then he waits behind the door for whatever is going to happen.

Almost immediately he hears the sound of the lock turning, the door scraping ajar. So there had been a guard right there, ready to come in and kill the on command, Kurt thinks.

Weller readies himself for action, waits for the guard to recognize the situation. But then the light flicks on suddenly before the door is thrown open, momentarily blinding him. He’s a sitting duck, trying to decide whether to just launch himself at his opponent without being able to see anything when he hears Jane tackle the guy just in time.

By the time Kurt’s pupils have adjusted to the light, she’s already got the guy pinned, is giving him one more punch to the head for good measure. Then they tie the guard up with the ropes they’d escaped from before taking his gun and using his fingerprint to start his cell phone.

It’s easy to identify the number the guard’s been contacting Scheer on and Weller gets Patterson on tracing it immediately. Within seconds she’s got an address and less than half an hour later she reports back that Scheer’s been killed in a shootout.

Weller double checks the perp is tied up securely and grabs his wife, leads her out into the light.

<3 <3 <3

Kurt wraps his arms around her, pushes her through the door and up the stairs. He feels so real and comforting behind her, her scruffy human security blanket.

Of course they made it out, she thinks. It couldn’t be any other way.

Not long ago she thought it was gone. The trust between them.

He had lied, she had lied. Big ones too, hurtful ones.

But in a dark room with only each other she had trusted him with all of her heart. The one still beating in her chest, that belongs only to him.

They had believed in each other, communicated perfectly.

It wasn’t the ideal date, the possible death part a bit too much. But it had been pretty hot, she thinks. Stealthily wrapped around Kurt, talking by touch.

Outside they wait for backup, forensics. Kurt still surrounds her, swallowing her up in his warmth.

“I’m sorry we missed our day,” he grumbles in her ear.

“It would have been perfect,” she agrees, smiling at the mental images of yoga with Weller. “You picked the most thoughtful things.”

Kurt squeezes tight, spins her around so she’s facing him. He’s wearing his familiar crooked smile, adoring and self-satisfied all at once.

“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you,” he says, so sincerely it hurts.

“Oh Kurt, I know,” she replies, reaching up to kiss him.

He pulls her in fiercely, hungrily. Relinquishes her lips only when sirens surround them, pull up close.

Still she’s encased in his arms, he refuses to release her even as agents start to hover close by.

“You’re going to have to let me go,” she says, her tone tinted in bemusement.

“Never,” he replies seriously. “You’re my valentine, Jane.”

She beams at him, a million lumens bright.

“But if we give our statements right away we can still make the chocolate buffet,” she says.

The boyish gleam in his eyes makes her giggle, snatch another kiss.

“I love the way your mind works,” he mumbles into her throat. “I love everything about you, Jane.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day Kurt. I love that we did this, together,” she mutters in return. “It wasn’t what we planned. But I think it turned out perfect.”

Kurt grins, squeezes her so tight she forgets to breathe for a second. Then she sneaks in one more kiss as they stand there entwined, ready to take on the world together.