#this was one of the best days I’ve had in recent memory and I’m so eager to record it here to reference later

[thevillainswhore]

A Forbidden Invitation

Pairing: Best Friend’s Dad!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

Warnings: Age gap, flashback, betrayal of friendship, manipulation, coercion, reader has severe daddy issues and self esteem problems, derogatory names, daddy kink, praise kink, smut, kissing, nipple play, blowjob, throat fucking, choking, fingering, pussy slapping, p in v sex, squirting.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“Come on, babe!” Rebecca whined at the edge of your bed. “You’re telling me a weekend away from this shithole doesn’t sound good?” 

It had been a whole hour of your friend begging you to come back home with her for your midterm break and while you usually had the patience of a saint, it was difficult to keep composed as she refused to back down to your unacceptable reasoning.

You sighed, finally closing your laptop with an inwards huff and coming to terms that you would not be getting any more work done. Blowing out a breath, you leveled your gaze onto her. 

“Becs,” you treaded carefully, mindful of her feelings. “It’s very sweet of you. But, I really need to get my work finished.” Rebecca’s face fell sullen and you rushed to explain. “I just like my time alone, y'know? I concentrate better.”

Her brunette hair fell over her eyes as she bowed her head. This girl really knew how to put on a show and you playfully rolled your eyes at her dramatics. But as she lifted her head with a pout and her wide, shining ocean blues, you knew you were done for. 

Oh no. The puppy eyes.

“Hey!” You pointed at her. “No—stop that! I’m not changing my mind.” 

The intensity of her stare only worsened while she slowly gained on you. “But what am I gonna tell my Dad when he asks when you’re not there?” 

“Wait.” Clarity hit you then and you held your hand up to stop your friend in her tracks. With a glare you questioned, “Did you already say I was coming?” 

The guilty twitch of her eye said it all. “Maybe—“

“Becca!” 

“I couldn’t help it!” she swore. “My dad invited you, I couldn’t tell him no.” 

“He invited me?” you asked, surprised. 

“Yeah. The day we met, he called to see how I was doing—asked if I had made any new friends.” 

She shrugged. “We’ve moved around a lot ever since I can remember and trying to fit in somewhere…” Her voice suddenly grew quiet as she solemnly whispered, “I’ve never had a real friend before. You’re the only one who’s been able to stick around for so long and he really wants to meet you.”

The frustration embedded in you faded out to make way for the sudden ache in your heart. To your knowledge, Rebecca was a new student who transitioned to your college in the middle of the recent school year. Both of you had a couple of classes together and the first time you ever saw her still reigned fresh in your mind. 

The doors to the auditorium crashed open as she stumbled in late and out of breath to her first class. Strands of her brown hair fell from the messy bun on the top of her head and her cheeks coloured bright red; it pained you to watch her embarrassment as a room of over a hundred stared at her, along with the professor. And so began your friendship when you rushed out of your seat to help her with her huge stack of books, ushering her to the back to sit next to you. 

Since then the two of you had been inseparable. Rebecca was a genuine, lovely girl — sweet and a breath of fresh air to your college life. She never failed to let you know how appreciative she was to your kindness of friendship, so even though you had only known her for a short while, it felt as though she was a true friend; one who would be staying around for a while.

Sighing in defeat, there was no way you could decline the offer after hearing she had been gushing over you to her Dad. “Okay, okay—Fine. I’ll come— AH!”

You squealed as she leapt onto you, knocking you back against your mattress as she profusely thanked you while vibrating with joy. The giggles and uncontrolled laughter that filled your room masked the unexplainable dread knotted in your stomach. But not wanting to tarnish Rebecca’s excitement, you let go of your worries for the time being. 

Going to the club alone wasn’t an activity you made a habit out of; you understood the dangers of your vulnerability to men who couldn’t take a hint. 

However, that summer night — a hazy memory now in the present — forbade common sense and instead, threw it out of the window. Not to be seen again until you woke up the next day. 

The stress of the week had gotten too much for you; too many assignments needing to be handed in at once, your parents bombarding you with passive aggressive texts about their ongoing disappointment with you and the cherry on top of it all, you had caught your boyfriend cheating on you with the girl he had sworn you had nothing to worry about. 

So of course, that week in particular had tested you. But instead of moping around your dorm room, your mind unhelpfully persisted with the motion to get shitfaced drunk and allow future you to worry about your problems. In the moment, you thought that to be your most genius idea of the week — letting your hair down in a sweaty nightclub around people you didn’t know and not caring about the consequences sounded perfect. 

In hindsight, it was probably one of your most beautiful mistakes. 

You remembered it all clearly. The newfound freedom of not giving a fuck, the humid air with the bass of the speakers invading your ears — every small detail added to the atmosphere as you were in your own world in the middle of the dancefloor, erotically swaying your hips side to side and running your hands through your hair. 

The short cocktail dress you had worn to make yourself feel good illuminated your curves while also giving you the liberty to dance without limit to your movement. You wanted to forget for a while — go crazy and let loose. 

Which was why the stunning pair of cerulean eyes that pinned you down across the room from the bar was your ticket to a night of fun — everything you needed at the moment in time. From your vantage point, the stranger looked to be in his forties, but in the best way possible. His form was built, the right amount of muscle carrying his frame and his grown out brown locks tucked behind his ears. No one had ever looked more sexy to you. 

Aware of being the center of attention to an attractive stranger, you smoothed your hands down from your hair, seductively over your neck, teasing your glowing skin and finally to your chest. You bit your lip when his hungry stare that soaked your lace underwear focused on your tits, overspilling from your dress and you watched, smug and exhilarated as the unknown man tightened his fist against his tight trouser cladded thighs. 

Through the whole night, the delightful burn of his stare never left you. A brand was marked into your skin; a warning to everyone else that you were spoken for — only for the night at least. 

If you ordered a drink at the bar, the stranger was a couple of seats down from you, greedily lapping up your figure. If you were sitting in the smokers area, catching your breath and cooling down, he was there too, leaning against the brick wall smoking a cigarette with his attention solely focused on you, no matter the amount of women who were not so discreetly throwing themselves over him. 

Even at the end of the night, as you once again danced to the deep bass of the beat among everyone else, he watched you from his own corner, still as enamored with you as the first time your eyes met. 

Adrenaline spiked your veins. It was addicting to be the object of someone’s desires, to be seen. 

You had only spoken through heated looks and loaded glances, but he was unlike any man you had encountered before. Mysterious and cryptic. You were just as lost in him as he was into you and you couldn’t have cared less that he was obviously older than you. It was what you needed. He was what you needed. 

The buzz from the few shots you had taken reached their peak and you decided it was now or never to claim what you so rightfully deserved. 

With a bounce in your step, you strutted in your heels through the crowd of people, never taking your eyes off your prize and him neither. He licked his lips as you closed the distance, stopping just before you bumped into the tip of his shoes. 

“Listen,” you spoke over the music, determined and resolute. “I’m gonna skip past the pleasantries and bullshit.” The allured stranger raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me and I definitely want you. So, do you want to get out of here?” 

Your bravery faltered slightly as you realised in his close proximity how direct you had been. While you were almost certain this stranger was as attracted to you as you were to him, the tiny seed of doubt that a mature man wouldn’t want to hook up with someone as young as you revoked your liquid courage. 

But that worry soon disappeared when he gave you a fierce once over now you were up close. A raging storm of lust and desire clouded his beautiful eyes, wild and desperate to get his hands on you. Your breaths came in quick and heavy as he smirked so sinfully. The bastard knew he held so much power in the palm of his hands when his body towered over yours, the difference in size between you not hard to miss. There you could tell the fun had already begun. 

The rest of the club became a blur as he brought his mouth down to your ear. You felt each slow and steady breath against the curve of your neck and you were sure even in the darkness, he noticed the  goosebumps that littered your skin. “All I need you to know tonight is my name.” His voice was as sexy as you had imagined, a deep, rasped husk that made your legs weak. But it was his next words that almost made you collapse. “Because it’s the only thing you’re gonna be screamin’ for the rest of the night, darlin’.” 

Your mind grew foggy at the next sequence of events. The hustle of getting into a car and fiercely making out in the backseat until you arrived at an upscale hotel. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were waiting impatiently at the reception desk and the next you were stumbling into a lavish hotel room, unable to keep your hands off each other as items of clothing flew across the room in your haste to get naked. 

The two of you bumped into the array of furniture in the hallway, the thought of tearing away from each other's lips unbearable. Bucky, you learned was his name, was an amazing kisser, his tongue gently teased yours as he threaded his fingers through your hair and he kept a firm grip of your cheeks like he was desperate to keep you close. 

“Fuck,” he slurred between kisses. “You’re so— fuckin’— gorgeous.” His eagerness to keep his lips against yours while complimenting you spun you for a loop, unfamiliar to this kind of intensity.  

The clink of dog tags were the culprit to halt your motions while he kept on kissing you, traveling down the slope of your neck and to your shoulders to bite your skin. As he was occupied, you took your chance to admire his physique. For a man his age, he was jacked — a toned stomach with several abs sharp enough to cut and two deliciously slender grooves running underneath his trousers to a bulge big enough for you to let an unhinged moan escape. 

His body was sickening, he truly had no business to look as good as he did for a man his age. But like hell were you going to complain when all the boys at college disappointed you time and time again. The bar was low and this man had already exceeded your expectations, he was only supposed to be an idea fit for your wildest fantasies. Yet, there he was, real and existing. 

Time was of the essence and you wasted none of it as you ripped yourself out of his hold, left in only your underwear, and dropped to your knees without pause to hurriedly remove his belt. 

“Oh, shit.” He gulped. “Baby— baby—you don’t have to do that—“ 

You hushed his assurances and batted away his hands that tried to pull you up without real effort. “No, I don’t have to. But I want to.” Fluttering your eyes, you looked up at him and slyly smirked. “Let me suck your cock. You just worry about having a good time.” With a wink, you unlooped the expensive leather through the buckle and dropped it to the floor, soon after working to unzip his fly and rid him of the offending trousers that stood in your way. 

The material slid down his thick thighs and he was left stood in his underwear, black briefs tented from his hard cock. A frenzied need to soothe the urge to get your mouth around him took the reins when you instantly nuzzled into his crotch.

“Fuck me, you’re a needy little slut aren’t you?” He wrapped your hair into a ponytail around his fist, controlling your movements. Though, there was no reason to, eager as you were. You would have done anything he asked. 

You did do anything he asked. 

You hummed while suckling the tip of his cock over the material of his underwear, “Mhm.” He threw his head back and groaned like a wild beast while you admired the wet patch growing on the fabric before your very eyes. It was unhinged — raw. But your stranger of the night didn’t seem to care, too fucked out as his eyes rolled back from pleasure. 

Unable to control your burst of desire, you suddenly shucked his briefs down. 

Your mouth fell open at the sheer size of him, an audible gasp echoed over the silence of the marble walls. Never had you seen a dick as pretty or big before and the drool that had gathered in your mouth began to leak out the side of your mouth. 

You were aching for him. 

With a cocky smile, the man tapped under your chin twice to direct your head upwards. “Up here, darlin’—I want those pretty eyes on me when you take my cock.” 

Immediately opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for him, he chuckled breathily at the crazed look in your dilated pupils. “Well, aren’t you just the biggest whore I ever did see.” Grabbing his cock and pressing the tip onto your tongue, he began to slide it forward. “Good fuckin’ job I like ‘em that way. Now open up wide so I can fuck your throat, baby—”

“Babe!” 

Jolting out of your memory infused dream with a shriek, you span your head around to Rebecca in the drivers seat of her car. “Oh, there you are!” she hissed, teasingly. “I called for you like ten times. Where the fuck did you go?” 

You swallowed the dryness coating your throat and hastily sat up. A hot sweat had settled over your skin and you immediately grabbed your water bottle from the footwell and chugged it down. 

Once you had cooled down, you glanced back at your friend, cringing at the raised eyebrow that meant you weren’t getting out of an explanation. “I, uh— I’m sorry I didn’t—um—get much sleep last night,” you lamely replied. 

The unimpressed expression on her face told you she didn’t believe you. But you were saved when her face suddenly lit up with glee. “Eek! We’re finally here!” 

Had a three hour drive really gone by that fast? 

Looking out the car window, your eyes widened when you saw an estate, guarded by iron gates around the whole property, surrounded by acres upon acres of land. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even when Rebecca began animatedly speaking with someone by the toll station. 

Who the fuck was this girl? 

Eventually, she pulled up to the house, passing the stone driveway with a water fountain in the middle and cut the engine off. “Come on, you. My Dad’s expecting us.” 

You were in a daze while you opened your door, stepping out the car and taking in every inch of the property. You would have never guessed your friend, the most down to earth and humble person on campus, had a lavish lifestyle with all the trimmings. It was clear she didn’t feel the need to brag about her privilege and her nonchalant attitude about it only baffled you more.

The doors to the mansion suddenly swung open and what you could only have presumed to be a butler promptly rushed towards the car. “Miss Barnes, how lovely to see you again.” 

Rebecca scoffed and hugged the man without hesitation. “Don’t be silly. You know you don’t call me that.” 

Even with her sweetness, he remained as professional then ever and brushed by her to pick up her bags. “Of course, Miss Barnes. Your father is out at the minute, but he has left you a gift by the entryway table.” 

With a high pitched scream, your friend ran inside without looking back. It was hard not to smile at her carefree ways and trying to shake the deepening apprehensiveness from the moment Rebecca invited you, you rounded to the boot of the car to grab your luggage. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” The butler immediately stepped forward and swiftly picked up your bags along with Rebecca’s with ease. 

“Oh, no that’s okay, honestly! I can bring them in no problem!” You tried detesting, not used to any kind of special treatment.

But it was no use as he kindly insisted, “There is no need to worry. Please relax and join your friend, I believe there is a gift for you too.” 

Sighing, you yielded and eventually followed in your friend’s steps, twiddling your fingers anxiously while you walked into the foyer of the mansion. 

Carefully crafted marble walls with what you could only guess were decorated with millions of dollars worth of extravagant paintings, lined up neatly up to the grand, spiral staircase where a round oak table sat in front of it. 

You instantly spotted two gift baskets, difficult to miss as they were both filled to the brim with an assortment of treats and bright pink tissue paper. 

Rebecca was already busy appreciating hers, taking care to read the note her father had presumably left her and gushing over the copious amount of sweet treats, new nightwear and a cashmere blanket, like this wasn’t a regular occurrence to her. 

However, it was surprising to see you had also been spoiled; all of your favourites, intricately placed in the hamper. Your eye caught the note addressed with your name on and hesitantly, you reached out for it and unfolded the card — a simple yet polite message inside. 

I can only apologise that I wasn’t here upon your arrival. 

I’ve heard great things about you from my Becs and I sincerely look forward to meeting you when I’m home. 

Please make yourself comfortable and enjoy the contents of your gift basket. 

J.B.B.

“Oh, he’s the best,” Rebecca swooned, hugging the white blanket to her chest. “He said he got called into work for a couple of hours so he should be back tonight. 

You exhaled, flitting your eyes over your new gifts. The information eased your nerves slightly — you were never any good at meeting parents, whether that be of friends or partners. The dynamic of a happy household wasn’t one you had experience with and the idea of ruining first impressions caused an anxiety you didn’t particularly care to revisit often. Especially now that Rebecca had come into your life — a friend you could absolutely see yourself building a strong bond with. 

Realising you had been silent for too long, you spoke up, “Your Dad is very kind.” Your fingers inched forward and ran over the soft material of your very own matching cashmere blanket, it felt like you were touching a cloud. From the corner of your eye, you caught your friend suddenly looking sheepish. “What’s wrong?” you asked, turning towards her. 

“I’m sorry about all of this.” She vaguely gestured her hand up in the air, to which you guessed she meant the sheer amount of money that screamed in your face. “I didn’t warn you and I should have. It's just that—” Rebecca’s eyes darted down and she crossed her arms over her stomach, shrinking in on herself. 

You stepped closer, rubbing your hand over her arm for comfort. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

She took a deep breath before lifting her gaze to you and shrugging. “I didn’t know if your intentions would be good if you knew about the money.” 

“Oh, Becs.” Your heart ached at the obvious trauma from her past. Squeezing her arm, you attempted to uplift the sullen mood with some playful teasing. “I became your friend because I couldn’t get rid of you. Although, now it doesn’t hurt to know your family is loaded.” 

Reluctantly, the smile grew on her face, turning into a bright grin she no longer could hide. “You’re awful.” 

“Tell me about it.” You winked, nudging her hip with your own. “Seriously, you’re a good person and I’m your friend because I want to be. I couldn’t give a fuck if you’re rich.” 

The muscles of her body relaxed and she quickly pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, babe.” 

“It’s nothing, silly.” You squeezed her one last time before breaking away. 

Rebecca sniffled, blinking away the onslaught of tears that were close to falling before cheerfully grabbing her basket. “Come on then, let’s go set up and order some pizza.” 

Picking up your own basket, you followed your friend up to her room.

The few hours spent working on your assignments, eating pizza and listening to music flew by. Spending so much time with Rebecca actually turned out to be fun. You usually spent all your free time by yourself, respiting into a hermit because of your inability to enjoy friendly companionship.  

But it was to your surprise that you found yourself not regretting agreeing to the trip. The thought of being back at your dorm, wasting your night away by sleeping, watching trash tv and succumbing to the vibator in your bedside drawer begging you to relive a night of passion now seemed sad as you glanced at your friend and the corner of your lip curled up. 

That bubble burst quickly when a shout coming from the foyer echoed up to the open bedroom door. “Rebecca, sweetheart—I’m home!” 

Instantly, her eyes widened and she shoved the laptop she was using off her lap at once, squealing with joy before leaping off the bed and running downstairs. “Dad!” 

Your fingers twitched over the keyboard of your own laptop in anticipation, looking towards the door and sighing in resignation. 

Decidingly, you thought it was best to give your friend a moment with her father. Not at all because you wanted to prolong the inevitable as long as possible. 

But as a couple of minutes went by, the tick of the pink clock on the desk getting louder and louder by the second, you figured your absence would go noticed and so you begrudgingly shut the lid of your laptop to slowly begin making your way out of the room. 

As you reached the balcony at the top of the staircase, you looked down just as Rebecca hugged her Dad tightly. An ache panged in your heart.

You weren’t close with your parents; neither of them checked up on you or asked when you’d be coming home to see them. They only contacted you when they felt like spewing their badly-hidden resentment towards you and the hurt you thought you had buried long ago began to make its way front and center. 

You shook your head and cleared your throat. You wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t tarnish your stay with your friend over something so silly — or be scared to meet her parent. So with a deep breath, you glided down the steps. 

Rebecca’s Dad had his back turned to you, which meant you only saw his thick head of hair, tucked neatly behind his ears and the muscles of his back straining against the white dress shirt he wore. 

You were unable to pinpoint the exact reason a tingle started to form in your lower stomach, the sensation extremely familiar by now, but you immediately scolded yourself and pinched the skin of your thigh to snap out of whatever mood had caused such depravity. This was your friend’s father; get it together.  

As you reached the bottom of the steps, your friend’s eyes locked onto yours and her whole face beamed. “Dad,” she gasped excitedly. “I want you to meet my friend.” 

You steeled your features; the warmest smile you could manage with the straightest posture possible. 

Time stood still when Rebecca stepped back to let her Dad turn around. Your emotions were all under control and you finally felt like you could do this. 

But that was until your eyes met and your face dropped. Those blue eyes, those damn blue eyes, you would remember them anywhere. 

Bile began to rise in your throat when he faced you completely. Suddenly, you were thrown back to that forbidden night that all started with the same man across the room by the bar, watching you like you were his last meal. Bucky.

You held back a loud gasp, aware that Rebecca was witnessing the interaction. Though, your blood ran cold when his lips lifted into a grin, one you knew a little too well. 

The palms of your hands were clammy with sweat and your heart hammered inside your chest. You weren’t sure how to play this, the stifling silence had already been stretched out ridiculously. 

Rebecca’s voice broke the quiet with an awkward chuckle. “Sorry Dad, we’re a little stumped. Exams have been kicking our asses lately and the drive over was long.”

Guilt crippled you then. While you could never have known the one night stand who invaded your thoughts daily would turn out to be your best friend's father, it still didn’t change anything — you fucked her Dad.

He finally took his eyes away from you to swing an arm around his daughter and laughed in fondness. “Don’t worry, I understand, Becs—you girls must be exhausted.” He then lifted his gaze back to you. “You must be the one she hasn’t stopped talking about.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. He doesn’t remember you? The lack of expression or recognition instilled a sense of hope within you. 

Maybe he had forgotten about your night together — the low lighting of the club you met him at and the haze of alcohol hindering your senses as he took you to a hotel created a perfection concoction of forgetfulness you rationalised. 

Eventually, deciding to act oblivious and hope for the best, you stammered up the courage to introduce yourself. “M—Mr Barnes. Thank you for letting me stay in your home.”

“Oh none of that, please.” A shiver raced down your spine, memories of begs and whimpers taunting your mind. “I’m James. But call me Bucky, darlin’.” 

It took all the strength you had to trap the moan on the verge of escaping your lips. Yep, you definitely remembered that name. 

Rebecca’s Dad stuck out his hand in front of you. “I’m very happy to meet you.” Your eyes darted between his hand and his face and then to your friend. Steadying your breath, you hesitantly placed your hand into his and felt his fingers tighten against yours. He shook your hand, his thumb gliding over your skin. 

Tightening your lips in anguish, you replied, “V—Very happy to meet you, too.” 

Bucky’s touch lingered against yours until you snatched your hand out of his when Rebecca hopped giddily and clapped her hands. “Oh, this is great! This weeks going to be so fun!”  

You didn’t return the sentiment. This week was going to be your worst nightmare come to life — your biggest mistake being dangled on a string in front of you, only reminding you what a piece of shit you were. 

“Okay, Dad. We’re gonna catch up on a little more work, so I’ll come find you later.” Your friend grabbed your hand that was limped by your side and started to pull you back up the stairs. 

“Hard workers, ain’t you?” he laughed. “If you need anything let me know.” 

“Thanks Dad, will do!” Rebecca shouted back down the stairs. 

When you had reached the first landing balcony, you couldn’t help sneaking one more tiny glance at the one night stand you never thought you would see again. But your heart skipped a beat as you saw him already looking up at you and he slid his hand out of his suit pocket to wave at you before you disappeared. 

You were sitting on Rebecca’s bed, waiting for her return when the inevitable happened. 

An emergency she called it, when she slipped her feet into her shoes and swiftly threw on her hoodie, claiming an issue with her neighbour she absolutely needed to handle. 

You had tried insisting on going with her, an extra pair of hands to help out. But she instantly pushed away your pleas, telling you not to worry and to focus on your work. That was Becca, a true sweetheart. But you wanted to strangle her then, scold her for leaving you in uncharted territory by yourself. 

Nervous and on edge, you couldn’t concentrate on your assignment for the longest time. You consistently made quick glances to the open door of your friend’s bedroom, listened for footsteps upon the landing. Soon enough though, your nerves died down when nothing happened and it allowed you to focus on your laptop, finally becoming fixated on your assignment. 

The only unusual thing that caught you off guard by yourself was the sudden heat of the house. You had built up a sweat in your hoodie and, unable to handle it, you took the fleeced material off in a swift flourish, leaving you in a tank top and shorts. 

Other than that, you powered through, happy to be finally getting somewhere with your work. You weren’t even sure how much time had passed since Rebecca had left and the worry of how long it was taking her to come home slipped your mind. 

Your guard was down while you hummed to the low music, lying on your stomach, back facing the door and typing away as you swung your legs in the air.

“I see you’re working hard.” 

Yelping in fright, you almost fell off the bed, the deep grunt of Bucky’s smooth tone scaring you from the sanctuary of his daughter's room. You whipped your head around to see your friend’s Dad leaned against the doorway dressed in a tight black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his dog tags rested against his chest.  

The sight was a difficult one to swallow. 

It was instinct to turn around so you were facing him as you raced to shuffle up Rebecca’s bed — a danger, your mind cautioned, to have your back turned to a wolf. 

He held his hands out in front of him as he walked towards you, as though taming a frightened lamb. “Hey there, it’s only me. No need to be scared.” 

“S—Sorry. I was a little lost in my assignment.” You apologised as you scrambled to gather all of your supplies together, desperate to gain some space from Bucky. “I think I’m done for the night, though. So I’ll just go downstairs and wait for Becca—“ 

“Hold up.” Bucky sat on his daughter's bed, leaving little to no proximity between you to effectively trap you in. “There’s no rush now, is there?” 

Exhaling shakily, you stuttered, “N—No— um, not at all, Mr Barnes—“

“Bucky,” he corrected gently. 

“Yes, B—Bucky.” You struggled to test his name on your tongue, not having spoken it since your night together. “I’m so sorry.” 

Rebecca’s dad just laughed, amused at your rambling. 

A tension, seemingly only one-way, swallowed you whole, threatening to drown you. It was impossible to hold direct eye contact with his ocean blues eyes, ones that ran vivid through your mind in your nights alone filled with heated memories and your biggest — now new favourite — vibrator.

His voice snapped you out of lust filled haze. “Rebecca shouldn’t be too long. Poor old neighbour lost his wife a couple of years back and Becs—the angel she is—goes over to help him when he needs it.” 

You could see it. She was the sort to not think twice about helping anyone in need and the thought eased your mind. “Well,” you smiled, hoping you didn't look as awkward as you felt. “That’s very kind of her.” 

“That’s my Becs,” Mr Barnes proudly grinned. 

The room grew silent once again. Picking your fingernails, you fought to calm the cold, harsh anxiety eating away at you. It still seemed as though Bucky couldn’t remember you, but a nagging feeling in your gut wouldn’t let that settle your nerves. 

“I just thought I’d come check on you anyway, sweetheart. Y'know, make sure you’ve settled in nicely for the week.” He smiled while placing his palm on the bed in the small space between you, leaning his weight against it as he got closer. 

“Y—Yeah.” You cleared your throat before continuing, keeping your answers short. “Mhm, I’m all good, thank you.” You smiled tightly, hoping Bucky would take the hint to leave, but alas your luck was short. 

“What you been workin’ on then, darlin’?” He nodded to your laptop resting on your legs. 

“Oh, not much.” You downplayed. “Just a written piece, nothing major— no wait!—” Bucky cut you off as he abruptly swiped your laptop from your lap, the cold ring on his pinky finger brushing against the bare skin of your thigh. Before you could even think of hastily clambering for it back, he already had your laptop open and sitting on his thick thighs as he began reading. 

“A psychology major, huh?” Bucky smirked, eyes scattering across the screen to take your assignment in. “Impressive. You’re a very clever girl.” 

Heat quickly rose up your neck, warming your cheeks as you were rendered speechless. A heavy ache between your legs left you squeezing your thighs together because of his praise — his words sent you straight back to the night against the hotel’s glassed windows he had brutally fucked you against while worshipping how much of a good girl you were for taking all of him. 

Quickly, you shook the intense thought from your mind, scolding yourself for letting it happen an umpteenth time. “Really, it’s nothing,” you said.

Bucky stopped reading your work and looked at you intensely, enough to make you squirm. “You really shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” Placing your laptop on the floor, he smoothly shuffled closer to you. You couldn’t help but stare at the hand he moved into your vicinity. His touch as he laid it on the naked skin of your thigh sent a thrill through your whole body. “Hasn’t anyone ever praised you before, huh?” 

His intricate voice, delicate and gentle soothed you and excited you both in equal measure. The previous alarm bells blaring in your head were non-existent when he squeezed the meat of your thigh so tenderly with his large hands. “I— um— I don’t—”

“Nobody told you how proud they are of you?” 

Your eyes glossed over as the shield you had built for yourself started to dismantle. Bucky was right. You were lonely and tired and you worked so hard for little reward. Your parents didn’t tell you they were proud of you, nobody ever told you how good you had been. 

Bucky’s hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb delicately rubbing over your lip. You melted into his touch too quickly. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”  

You willingly fell into a dangerous trap he had set out as your eyes fluttered closed. Your friend’s Dad’s caress was so familiar, even after so long — his scent intoxicating and his voice a melody to the scrambled mess in your head. 

It didn’t occur to you then, the issue with Bucky inching more forward, almost until his chest was plastered to yours. The thought of his strange comfortability with his daughter’s friend wasn’t worthy of space in your head. 

For once you weren’t thinking of Rebecca.

Until the slam of the front door ricocheted up the stairs and into her bedroom. “I’m home, Dad!”

Your eyes shot open and you gave yourself a quick second to get lost in Bucky’s gaze before you leaped up in panic. 

You were half expecting him to also worry, to quickly dart out of the room. But instead he carelessly stood up from the bed along with you and combed his hair back with his fingers. 

“Dad! Where are you?” 

Pure terror. The fear of being caught in a compromising position with Bucky by your friend was overwhelming as your hands shook. Rebecca’s footsteps began to sound over the stairs and you closed your eyes, waiting for chaos. 

It was only a couple of seconds after your stomach jumped in frightful anticipation when you felt her presence join you. “Babe, have you— What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your stomach lurched. Slowly squinting an eye open, you saw your friend standing in the doorway looking at you in confusion. You steadily tracked your sight across the room, expecting to see Bucky. To your surprise, he wasn’t there anymore. 

You opened your eyes fully, the fear easing away some though your nerves were still alight with edginess. “I don’t— I don’t know.” 

“Um, okay?” Becca said wearily. “Anyway, have you seen my Dad, I wanted to talk to him before we head to bed.” 

This was a chance, you inwardly thought. To tell your best friend about everything while your friendship could still be repaired. 

But the probability of disclosing your secret and potentially ruining Rebecca’s life won out. “No. I haven’t seen him.” The lie tasted sour on your tongue and shame clawed its way back to the surface. 

Your friend smiled brightly and shrugged. “No problem, I’ll go find him. I’ll be back to work on assignments in a minute.” She exited her room in search of her Dad. 

You crumpled to the bed and hung your head in your hands, exhaling deeply. You’re a shitty person, the voice in your head supplied unhelpfully. 

After a while, Rebecca had returned to her room and for the rest of the evening, you both worked on your respective assignments; her chattering away happily while you stared at the screen of your laptop blankly, adding nothing to the open document until the two of you decided to call it a night.

Unexpectedly though, instead of getting ready for bed together, your friend showed you to a guest room. 

“Becca,” you laughed. “I thought I’d be staying in your room for the night. You know—with you?” 

“Well, I told my Dad you liked your own space and he set up one of the guest rooms for you. It's no biggie.” She shrugged. 

Right. Because of course you wouldn’t be staying with her when there were an endless amount of spare bedrooms on the first floor alone. 

You cursed yourself in that moment, reliving your protests of spending the midterm break alone because of your need for space. 

“Are you sure?” You tried again, the vulnerability of being by yourself without the buffer of Rebecca taunting you. “We could have a sleepover! Watch movies and stay up late!”

But she just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Girl, I know you are dying for a minute to yourself—to relax and decompress.” Holding your hand, she softly laughed. “I practically begged you to come here and you agreed. You’ve been more kind to me in the minute we met than most of my old friends over the span of the years I knew them. So please, the least I could do is give you a break during the nights.” 

The guilt ate you alive; her selflessness and naturally good heart steadily chipping away at your conscience. Why the hell did she have to be so nice? 

Putting on your best smile, you tried to rid of the nasty voice spitting venom inside your head. You slept with her fucking Dad, you whore — you don’t deserve this. Outwardly, you said, “I don’t deserve this, Becs. It's too much.” A somewhat admittance of the truth; the full story you would take to the grave, if only to keep your friendship intact.

“Oh, hush. Of course you do.” She pushed you away playfully into your new room. “Now go freshen up and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Clenching your hands in unexplained nerves, you wished her goodnight while she began to walk down the hall to her own room. “See you tomorrow, Becs.” The door closed with a click and you dropped your forehead against the wood with a loud thud. 

You could do this, you reasoned with yourself. It was only for a couple of days, and as long as you stayed close to Rebecca and was not left alone with her father, you could ignore your inner thoughts — the vile, disgusting voice that simultaneously begged you to to crawl on all fours to him like a desperate bitch and be ashamed of your sins.

It wasn’t difficult to fall asleep. Exhaustion from the events of a long day and a shower with the most luxurious products you had ever used assisted you with that and you whispered an internal gratitude to the fluffy pillows you laid your head on for helping you escape reality before you closed your eyes. 

However, you were awoken from your deep slumber when the rattle of your bedroom door knob interrupted your dreamless sleep. You had to fight the heaviness of your body as you sat up, rubbing your eyes with a groan before you tried squinting through the darkness to no avail. 

The sudden thought of your friend coming to annoy you after all surprisingly made you crack a smile. “Becs?” you sleepily called out. 

The latch of the door clicked as it steadily creeped open and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s antics. “If you’re trying to scare me then ha ha—very funny, dork.” 

Your sight began to adjust, outlines and shadows soon becoming more clear but still a struggle to make out in the late hour.  

Though there was no response from your friend. Silence shrouded over the room with only your small breaths to be heard. 

You stared at the doorway expectedly, waiting for a response you wouldn’t get. “Becca?” you called out warily once more.

But that time, as the door clicked shut with a deafening loudness, a deep voice — one that definitely did not belong to your friend — answered. “Y’know, you look just as pretty as you did the night we met.” 

Cold dread had every muscle of your body locking up. It became clear then that it wasn’t Rebecca that had entered your room. More so a tall figure, clad in only his underwear and his dog tags.

“M—Mr Barnes?” your lips quivered with panic. “What— What are you doing?” 

Every clink of the metal around his neck haunted you with each step he made closer. You scrambled up towards the headboard, plastering yourself against the wood. 

Pointless when he sat beside you on the bed, bending his knee to lean one leg against your thigh. The feel of his bare skin against yours burned. 

“No need to be afraid, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled. “You know me, don’t you?” 

You gulped. Sudden dizziness blurred his face to your eyes and the deprivation of your sight made his touch all the more electrifying when he swept your hair to the side and kissed your shoulder. 

A shudder ran down your spine, the strap of your silk nightgown falling down your arm and stripping you of your only defense left against him. 

“Mr Barnes,” you tried again, more pleadingly. 

“What have I said about calling me that, hm? You know my name well enough by now, pretty girl. You’ve screamed it enough.” His tormenting laugh vibrated through you while he still peppered feather light kisses across your skin. 

You begged your body to move, for your hands to push him away and your voice to shout for Rebecca. Alas, you kept to your place, still as stone. 

“You can’t— you can’t be here,” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky smirked. “Oh really? Is this not my house, sweetheart?” Your nipples pebbled against the silk material covering them as his breath cascaded goosebumps over your skin in its trail. “Been tryin’ so hard to restrain myself since I saw you again this mornin’. But I can’t fuckin’ hold back anymore.” 

“You remember me,” you managed to choke out.

Bucky hummed, laving his tongue over the sweat building on your neck. “Like I could ever forget a girl like you.” 

The knot in your stomach tightened, each press of his lips over your body immobilising you further. Bucky knew who you were, from the moment your eyes connected in the foyer. The reality set in then — deep and unsettling and delicious, all at once. 

“I had to act like I didn’t know you, baby. Couldn’t have Rebecca finding out her only friend knows the taste of her Dad’s cock now, could I?” 

You felt sick. Your mind raged in war between a guilty conscience and your own pleasure. To give in would be evil, so horrendously sick and twisted.

A single tear dropped from your watery eyes and slowly rolled down your cheek, the sudden saltiness hitting Bucky’s tongue and making him groan. “Fuck, don’t tease me already, baby.” 

“She’s my friend,” you whimpered. “I can’t do this to her.” 

Bucky looked up, a soft expression on his face. “Oh, darlin’. I love her too, really.” His lip curled up then, a wolfish gleam in his eye. “But I can’t go another minute without touchin’ you.” 

Placing his forehead against yours, his hand traveled up from your thigh, all the way over your stomach until he reached your tits. You squeezed your eyes tightly closed when his forefinger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silk. “Doesn’t this feel good, hm? Doesn’t this feel right?”

Against your will, you released a high pitched keen. “Bucky.”

His chest rumbled in delight, a deep purr in your ear. However, your mind still bartered with itself, unrelenting in its inability to give in. “But what if Becca—?” 

“She doesn’t have to know a damn thing, baby.” Bucky turned his head and bit over the pulse of your neck. “It’ll be our dirty little secret.” 

Your head was filled with clouds, a fog smothering over any rational thought. Especially with the way Bucky began to sneakily slip the other strap of your nightgown down. He was mesmerising in his actions, his fragile touches that made you feel special. 

You so desperately wanted to feel special. 

Just like he made you feel back in the summer. 

The evil voice in your mind hissed at you — dirty, disgusting, whore. The hopeful one became louder — lonely, unloved, tired. 

You were so fucking tired. 

The fight in you left. You were a goner, a sacrificial lamb while you tilted your head back to reveal more of you. The walls you so carefully crafted came crumbling down pathetically. 

Bucky didn’t waste any time taking advantage of that. “There’s my good girl. Let it happen, baby.” 

The moon shone through the window, becoming the only source of light in the darkness and its glow blanketed over the same features as the strobe lights in the club back in summer. 

Fate hadn’t been on your side from the moment it cruelly introduced Becca into your life when it had already manifested your demise with her Dad. So who were you to try and change it?

Letting your body take control over your mind, you turned your head, grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck and crashed your lips to his — finally giving into temptation. His answering moan of shock and arousal made you more daring and you snuck your tongue into his mouth too. 

Bucky ripped away, a string of saliva connected between your lips. “You still wear the same fuckin’ cherry chapstick,” he groaned, before squeezing your breast tightly. “Fuck—go lay your head at the end of the bed for me, sweetheart. Want that shit around my cock.” 

With urgency, you rushed over to the edge of the mattress, lying on your back and making sure your head hung over the bed. Your view was upside down, warped while you watched Bucky stroll towards you with bated breath. 

He stood behind you, all menacing and tall — you had never felt smaller in your life, though you liked the feeling with him. 

The veins on Bucky’s forearm bulged from his skin as he brought his hand to your throat. Lightly, he caressed his thumb over the junction of your neck. “Do you remember how eagerly you sucked my dick last time?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the bob of it transcending under his large hand. “I— I do.” 

He smirked down at you. “You gonna make me proud again, baby?” 

Your eyes glazed over with neediness. “Please—Want to make you proud of me.” 

His bright white teeth gleamed with his predatory smile. “Stick out your tongue for me, darlin’.” 

Doing as he asked, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, uncaring to how easily you obeyed his commands. 

“Good job, sweetheart.” Bucky brought his hands up to his underwear and with a swift pull, his black briefs fell to the ground. 

You preened like a cat at the sight of his cock bobbing into your view. The light casting in from the moon glistened over the underside of his dick, the purple head pulsing harshly. 

Bucky pumped his cock slowly twice, a premature pearl of cum gathering at the head. “You ready for me, baby?” 

Nodding your head hungrily up at him, you whined, “Uh-huh.”

Bucky positioned himself closer to you, your head hung between his spread legs. You waited in anticipation for him to inch forward and slide his length down your throat, but instead he tapped the head of his cock against your wet tongue. 

The resounding slap caused you to rub your thighs together in agony, the feel of his heavy weight divine. 

“Aw, babygirl,” Bucky teased. “You missed me that much you can’t help those tingles already, huh?” He tapped his length against you again and his eyes fluttered. “There’s more where that came from.” 

The desperation to wrap your lips around his cock was overbearing and so you sealed your mouth around him, suckling the tip with a refound hunger. 

“Holy fuck.” Bucky’s legs trembled at the shock of your sudden confidence. “Oh, just like that, sweetheart.” 

You swiped your tongue around the bulbous head of his dick, moaning rabidly at his salty taste. Bucky’s natural musk was addictive and you tried to shuffle your body closer to take more of his length, but he quickly grabbed your hips to stop you. “Woah—slow down there. Daddy’s the one runnin’ the show tonight, not you.” 

You let go of his cock with a pop. “Please, Daddy.” Your pleas were breathless as you panted for air. “Want all of you—please!” 

Leaning over until his lips brushed yours, Bucky kissed you deeply before murmuring, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, I’ll make sure you take all of me.” 

He stood back up promptly, giving you whiplash in your current state. “Now open that slutty little mouth. Wide.” 

Hardly giving you time to do as he asked, Bucky shoved his entire length down your throat. Your eyes widened as you gagged around him. 

“Shh, baby. You’re okay, relax.” Opposite to his brutal force, he brushed softly over your chin. “You can handle me. You’ve done it before, right?” 

Breathing through your nose calmly was a challenge with his thick cock limiting your intake of oxygen. But you wanted so badly to fulfill Bucky’s wishes. So closing your eyes and willing yourself not to panic, you focused your breaths. 

“There we go.” The pride in his tone was exhilarating. “Knew you could do it, darlin’.”

Bucky kept still for a few more seconds, allowing you to get used to the intrusion of the new position before he began to ease his cock out of your throat and gently push back in. “Yeah, you remember my cock don’t you, sweetheart? Your tight little throat feels so fuckin’ good.” 

Your hands came up to grip the back of his firm thighs to ground yourself. You felt every inch of him glide down until his tip reached your windpipe and you coughed violently, sputtering around him.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on me.” Bucky upped the speed of his pace then and your nails dug deep into his flesh. 

While his actions turned harsh and forceful, your pleasure grew and with your squirming, the skirt of your nightgown began to ride up your body without you realising. 

Bucky did though, almost immediately. You couldn’t see how his eyes snapped towards the bare skin of your thighs and lower stomach and to his pleasant surprise, you weren't wearing any panties. 

The sound of his laughter while his hips continued to pump into you made your nerves spike. 

“My sweet girl,” he cooed short windedly. “You must’ve known I was coming, huh? Not wearing anything under that cute little outfit.”

You squealed, unable to say anything while sucking his cock, though the vibrations of your moans made Bucky’s thrusts falter. 

“Fuck—shit, baby. I almost forgot how good you are at that,” he laughed. His hands traveled tantalising over your stomach until he reached the bottom of your nightgown. “Let Daddy see what you’ve been hidin’ from me.” 

The silk material unpeeled from your skin as Bucky lifted it over your breasts. Your full body was on display for him and you fidgeted bashfully under his scrutiny. Your sight was compromised, your movements were limited and your thoughts were scrambled. 

“Oh, darlin’. You’re a doll, ain’t you?” Bucky’s rough and calloused hands smoothed over your bare skin. He palmed your breasts roughly, just once before inching down to your lower stomach. “Now, you gonna show me what I really wanna see?” 

It didn’t take you a second to spread your legs for him, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt. 

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Open those gorgeous thighs for me, I wanna see how wet my baby girl is.” 

Bucky leaned over your body, pushing his cock even further down your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, but your body soon jolted at the feel of his finger sliding through your folds. 

You screamed around his dick and tapped his thighs for a breather, which he so graciously granted. As soon as he tilted his hips to let his cock fall out of your mouth, you gasped loudly. “Oh my god— Bucky, I can’t. I can’t I can’t, please—” 

Your hoarse voice was cut off when Bucky wrapped his free hand around your throat. “Shut the fuck up and take it.” 

His cock laid against your cheek while he looked into your eyes. He forewent easing you into it and instead forced two of his fingers into your cunt. You were about to cry out until he shoved his cock down your throat again with a sigh. “Guess Daddy’s gonna have to keep you quiet—such a noisy girl.” 

The clink of his dog tags with each thrust mixed with your gurgles around his cock, a mixture of your spit and precum bubbling around your mouth and running messily down your chin. The stretch of his fingers unprepared was painful and yet it blended perfectly into pleasure. “Mmph!” 

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky choked when he thrusted into your mouth at a particular angle. Taking advantage of his legs twitching erratically, you managed to release his dick and reach further back to his balls. 

Wasting no time, you sucked them into your mouth while his cock slapped against your cheeks, smothering precum all over your face. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, keeping the steady rhythm of his fingers pumping into your pussy. “You filthy fuckin’ whore—you just want all a’me don’t ya?” 

You hummed while playing with balls, using your tongue to tease over his perineum. Bucky was losing his composure fast and the thrill of it made the knot in your stomach tighter. 

But not one to be outdone, he ripped his fingers out of your cunt and slapped your clit, hard. You let go with a pop and squealed his name. “Bucky!” 

You tried closing your legs, the sensation too overwhelming. Though it was useless with his strength as he held your thighs apart to carry on bringing his hand down firmly on your cunt. “I thought you wanted to play dirty, darlin’,” he growled. “Daddy’s just having some fun.” 

Your body jolted with each slap delivered. You took it, even when the pain became too much and you thought you would pass out, until Bucky decided to give you respite. He left your pussy sore and aching as he lifted up away from you. A whine tore from your throat. 

“That's what happens when you don’t do as I say.” You were manhandled up and into Bucky’s arms as he sat down against the headboard. He moved you around without a hint of struggle and placed you on his lap, facing away from him. “Good girls don’t disobey Daddy, do they?” 

“No,” sighed. His hard, thick length stood firm against your ass, his dog tags soothingly cold against your warm back and you whimpered pleadingly while grinding back into him. “Want it in me.” 

Bucky’s laughter vibrated through you. “Yeah, baby? Wanna bounce on Daddy’s cock?” 

“Yes! Please!” you cried. 

Gliding his hands around to your front, he pinched each nipple. “Well, I’m not stoppin’ you. Go ahead.” 

You inhaled deeply, gathering all your strength to lift up on your shaky legs. Using Bucky’s thighs to hold yourself, you tilted your hips up until your heat skimmed over the head of his cock. “O—Oh, oh shit,” you stuttered at the sensation. 

Bucky’s head thumped back against the headboard. “God—I’ve fuckin’ missed that cunt.” 

His enjoyment allowed you the courage to balance on one hand while your other reached down to grip his thick length. A strangled noise rose from Bucky’s throat, but you ignored it and swept his tip through your folds. 

“Look who’s gotten brave, huh?” Bucky laughed breathlessly while he played with your tits. “Not thinkin’ about poor Becs now are you, baby?” 

Before the harsh retort could dig deep and make a home in your conscience, you shook your head and let his cock catch on your clenching hole. “Wanna be filled again.” 

“Then do somethin’ about it, darlin’.” Bucky rested his chin on your shoulder and you both looked down to where your sex rested on his length. Your stomach sucked in with your uneasy breaths and after internally counting down, you dropped your hips. 

“Fuck!” Bucky’s hands gripped your breasts tightly, something to help him through how good the slick glide felt. You did the same, latching on to his meaty thighs. “Shit.”

Your chests rose and fell in tandem, but the sensation of feeling so full made you tighten around his cock. “I need to move, Daddy.” 

His mouth moved over your neck as he spoke, “Go on, babygirl. Milk Daddy’s cock.” 

With his approval, you began to angle your hips up, letting his length slide out of you until the very head rested snug in your hole and then sank down again steadily. Your breath hitched while your head fell back onto his shoulder.  

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck—just like that. Keep going for me.” Bucky’s hands smoothed down to your hips and gripped them, helping you move over his cock. 

“You’re so b—big,” you whispered. “Forgot how big you are.” 

“Oh, I know. But you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” he cooed. 

“Mhm,” your head bobbed lazily up and down with your motions. “I’m your good girl, right?” 

Bucky grunted and made you bounce faster. “The best, baby. Such a good girl for me.” 

His dick throbbed angrily inside you, its length scraping your walls and stretching you with its girth. The clapping of your thrusts grew louder, more depraved as you lost control from the divine pleasure. Had you been thinking more clearly, you would have been careful about your volume, but all your inhibitions went out the window long ago. 

“Need more,” you slurred. “Wanna cum, but need more Daddy.” 

“Shh—I know what you need, sweetheart.” Bucky slithered his hand down your stomach and to your heat. With your legs spread wide over his, it gave him ample opportunity to snake his fingers over your engorged clit and begin circling them.  

You squeaked, instantly snapping your legs closed around his hand. “Bucky, wait!—”

But he forced your legs open and slapped your clit, making you jump with a shout. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me to wait. You asked me for more so you’re getting more, you slut. What happened to wantin’ to make me proud, hm?” 

You sobbed as a tear tracked down your cheek. “I— I do!” 

“So then you’ll take it—won’t you?” Bucky growled against your ear. 

Sniffling, you nodded, panting while bouncing on his cock. “Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

You hiccuped. “Yes, D—Daddy.” 

Bucky hummed in approval and began thrusting up to meet your stride. “That’s more like it.” 

You took what he gave you while he fucked up into your pussy. The strain of your muscles was almost unbearable, but you persevered through the pain — to be the center of his attention, to be so utterly wanted felt too compelling to give up. 

His thrusts were harsh, rough enough to have your toes curling and his balls to smack against your skin. All those sensations paired with his ruthless circles on your clit blended to build your impending orgasm. “I’m so close,” you gasped. 

“Me too, babygirl.” Bucky grunted, biting into his plump bottom lip. “Gonna empty my load inside a’you.” 

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please.” 

Bucky’s hips worked overtime, a ferocious beast taking over in its haze. He brought his free hand up to your cheeks and squished them together. “Who’s Daddy’s little cumslut, huh?” 

“Me,” you cried. “I’m Daddy’s cumslut.” 

“Fuck yeah you are,” he snarled. “And now that I’ve got you back you’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.” 

You were too dizzy to comprehend the weight behind his words, instead you slammed your hips up and down in time with Bucky’s movements, chasing the tightening in your lower stomach. 

“You ready for me, darlin’?” he asked. 

You swallowed the dryness in your throat. “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now hold on.” Without waiting for you to reply, he grabbed under your thighs and lifted you. You were held up solely by his arms as he powerfully began to fuck you. 

You became mute, mouth hung open on a continuous silent scream. The feeling was like no other; Bucky’s pure strength and huge length tore you apart, physically and mentally. 

“Gonna,” thrust, “fill,” thrust, “this,” thrust, “gorgeous fuckin’ pussy.” 

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth like a dog, drool dripping down your chin while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were on the verge of cumming. “Close.” You had been reduced to one syllable words. 

“I know, baby. I fuckin’ know—Can feel you,” Bucky gasped. “Let go for me, darlin’.” It was only when the angle of his hips changed and the head of his cock repeatedly nudged against your cervix that the balance of your orgasm tipped over. 

“Hnng—Fuck!” You walls trapped Bucky’s dick in a tight chokehold as your thighs shook in a spasm. He continued to grind up into you, releasing his warm load into your pussy. 

“Bucky!” you keened while your walls fluttered around his length. The rush was unlike any you had experienced before and an errant thought that any consequence was worth it to cum like that again swirled through your mind. “Made me— made me cum so hard,” you slurred.

Your high began to simmer down and you felt like you could regain control over your mind until Bucky’s hand came down onto your clit again. “One more,” he breathed into your ear. “Gimme one fuckin’ more.” 

Your eyes shot open and you shook your head, rapidly. “C—Can’t,” you managed to croak. “Too much.” 

You reached down to try and pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong. “I said I want one more.” Bucky held your arms to your chest then, beginning to rub your clit in fast circles. 

An unusual pressure built up quickly and you panicked. “Bucky—something’s wrong.” 

But he sucked over your neck, easing your worries. “You’re okay. It's okay, baby. Just let it happen, remember?” 

You writhed in his hold, moaning salaciously. “I’m— I’m g—gonna cum again.” The feel of his cock still filling you, his cum seeping out of your whole which each dirty grind he made, the sensation of his tongue against your neck and his tireless fingers was all too much. 

“Cum for Daddy then, darlin’.” A couple of circulations later and you screamed out in unimaginable pleasure. Your stomach swooped and the next you knew, a strong pressure forced Bucky’s cock out of your cunt. A rush of liquid sprayed out of you and covered the entirety of the bedsheets. 

“There we are,” he grinned wickedly. “Exactly what I wanted.” 

It felt like it went on forever. Bucky didn’t let up on his insistent rubbing. But as soon as the last juices squirted out of you, you deflated into his chest, breaths heaving with utter exhaustion. You were too tired to keep your eyes open, body boneless and overexerted. Your body jumped with aftershocks, tiny zings of electricity igniting your nerves. 

Bucky finally slowed his fingers down to a stop on your clit. Your back rose and fell with his pants, each puff of his exhales hitting your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

“Holy fuck,” he laughed deliriously. “That was—fuck.” 

Internally agreeing, you hummed, incapable of formulating words. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you while he placed a kiss to the back of your head and you enjoyed being surrounded with his warmth and comfort. “You were perfect, babygirl,” he mumbled. “Did so fuckin’ good for me. Made Daddy so proud.” 

A wide smile curled onto your face as your eyes remained closed. You were falling out of consciousness, giving in to sleep fast. 

“Let’s get you comfy.” You didn’t stir when Bucky began to lift up, or when he rearranged your form so he could carry your limp body in his arms. 

Your body bounced with each powerful step he made. Vaguely hearing the room door open, a cold blast of air hit your heated skin and you shivered, snuggling closer into Bucky’s chest. 

Your head swam with fuzziness. You couldn’t bear to open your eyes with their heaviness. But you felt as you were delicately placed onto a large, comfortable bed, stacked with pillows and fitted with dry sheets, along with Bucky’s delicious scent that tickled your senses. 

A soft kiss was pressed onto your cheek, a firm hand curling around your waist and just before you could succumb to sleep, you heard his last words. “You get some rest now, sweetheart. We’ve still got a whole week ahead of us.” 

You were sure the mortification would hit you in the morning. Pure regret sinking deeply into your skin and making you feel sick to the core. 

But you also knew now that any chance of quitting your best friend's dad had been lost. Because Bucky was a guilty pleasure, a rush you couldn’t bear to give up — no matter the consequences and no matter who it would inevitably hurt. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot

[velocesainz]

Hiiiiiii would you want to do

Childhood bsf Annabeth chase x Apollo reader who is dying of an illness that can't be cured , only Luke and reader know about it and reader refuses to tell anyone else, wanting Annabeth not to worry thinking that reader just gets sick often.

When Annabeth leaves for a quest when reader's sicker then normal only to come back and reader is gone only leaving a sentimental gift to both Luke and her behind with a letter saying goodbye and sorry something like that ?

She/her or they/them please do tell if you cannot write this

I love this request, thank you so much!

Summary: reader is dying of a terminal disease and nobody knows except Luke. Annabeth sees that reader is getting sick but doesn’t think much of it but realised when it’s too late

Warnings: very sad, angstyyy, mentions of death

Pairing: Annabeth Chase (platonic) x Apollo! Fem! Reader, Luke castellan (platonic) x Apollo! Fem! Reader

A/n: this might be the saddest thing I’ve ever written and I’m here for it. Make sure to request!

Percy jackson masterlist | Main masterlist

Improper Goodbyes

Reader pov:

I was in the bathroom in the apollo cabin spewing my guts out into the bowl along with blood. I found out I had cancer a few days ago since father had sent me a letter (I am the favourite child).

I was just sitting on the floor thinking about how I was just going to disappear. I felt relief but also was overwhelmed by the faces of all my siblings and friends especially Annabeth, my best friend since the day I was born.

I was sitting there thinking about all the good times I had at camp when the door burst open revealing Luke, my other best friend.

“Hey y/n I was thinking about heading out to pick some strawber- what happened?” Luke asked incredibly worried seeing the blood in toilet bowl.

I didn’t want to tell him but he deserved to know. As one of um closest friends he deserved to know what was wrong with me.

“I-I have cancer Luke. Leukaemia stage 3. Incurable” I told as I saw his face drop with every word I said

“H-H-How long do you have left?” He asked me and I could see tears springing into his eyes

“6 months maximum. I’m sorry Luke” I told him and looked away, I couldn’t bear to see Luke crying

“We’re going to make these 6 months the best you’ve ever experienced. Let me just tell ever-“

“No Luke. You’re not telling a single soul about this.” I cut him off

I looked back at him and he gave me a sad smile. He was upset that I wouldn’t let him tell anyone but he also wanted to respect my wishes.

“Alright then. But if Annabeth finds out and tells the rest of the camp don’t blame me! Now come on, we have memories to make” Luke said as he dragged me out of the Apollo cabin

Timeskip:

I was talking to Annabeth by the fire when I felt nauseous again. This is the 5th this happened today and Annabeth seemed to be catching on slowly

“Hey y/n are you alright? You seem to be extremely pale and sickly looking recently” Annabeth asked me

“Yea I’m fine, just been a little under the weather recently” I lied through my teeth

“Nothing a little ambrosia can’t fix! I’ll go get some for you right now” Annabeth said as she got up but I pulled her right back down

“There’s no need for that Annabeth. I have some back in the cabin, I’ll drink it before going to bed don’t worry about me” I tried reassuring her but she didn’t really seem to buy it

Annabeth pov:

Why was y/n acting so weird? It’s weird enough that she’s been sick for so long and in top of that she refuses to take ambrosia even though she takes it multiple times a day when she is sick.

Am I missing something here?

No Annabeth, you’re overthinking it. She’s a child of Apollo, she can take care of herself.

“Annabeth, Percy and Grover please join me up front here” Chiron called out probably to inform us of another quest.

I was really getting fed up of being dragged by Percy everywhere for his troubles and quests. I wanted to spend more time with the others at camp.

I want to take care of y/n like how she took care of me.

I rarely even see her anymore since she’s mostly just locked in her cabin or I’m on a quest with seaweed brain.

I don’t know how much more I can take of this. I hope this ends soon.

Timeskip:

I was packing up for the quest and just as we were about to leave y/n came up to me along with Luke .

“Can I hug you? I really want to get a hug from you before you leave for another long quest” she also mumbled something at the end about this being her last hug or something but I didn’t pay much attention to that.

“Of course honey! You don’t even need to ask, you know I absolutely adore your hugs” I said as I hugged her.

I then realised how much thinner she had gotten. I could feel the bones in her back as I hugged her.

I again didn’t pay attention to it because some people here at half-blood have had really bad flu and other diseases but have always recovered from it.

But this time felt different. I felt a strong twine in my gut. Something was wrong.

Probably in the quest. That always happens.

Y/n pov:

I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker day by day and I knew my last few moments were drawing closer.

I started writing letters to the ones I cared most about and also gave all my stuff away leaving only the sentimental pieces for the ones who mattered the most to me

It hurt to let go of this beautiful place but our fates have been decided and there is nothing we can do to change it.

As I laid on my death bed surrounded by my cabin mates and Luke they told me how much I meant to them and how much they will miss me.

I couldn’t focus on that however. I just wished Annabeth was here with me. I wanted to say a proper goodbye but she wasn’t here.

I felt my eyelids grow heavier and heavier. I could barely speak but I had to tell Luke what I wanted to say to Annabeth.

“Luke tell Annabeth that she was the most amazing friend I could ever ask for and also give her this” I told told him as I gave him a letter that I had addressed to Annabeth.

Luke pov:

I couldn’t believe it. My best friend was dead and her last wish to see her childhood best friend couldn’t be fulfilled.

I felt grief sadness and guilt overcome me as I feel to my knees next to her body.

The only person who truly understood me was dead. How was I to move on?

I walked with heavy steps to my cabin and I saw her ring on my bed with a letter.

That ring meant to much to her. It was given by her mother and it contained the most beautiful sapphire I had ever seen.

She never let anyone touch it since it meant so much to her. I guess I meant just as much to her as this ring.

I looked at the contents in my hand. Annabeth’s letter along with a small box.

If only Annabeth was here. Y/n would’ve passed away surrounded by all of whom she loved.

Annabeth pov:

I returned to camp after the quest but that feeling never went away.

Everyone at camp looked grim and depressed, especially the Apollo kids and Luke.

I tried to look around for y/n but I couldn’t fine her anywhere.

Luke came up to me and handed me a letter and a small blue velvet box.

“Y/n wanted you to have this. It was her last and only wish” Luke said with a coarse and scratchy voice. It sounded like he had cried for hours.

“What do you mean last and only wish? Is y/n ok? What happened to her?” I asked Luke hoping to find some answers but he just gave me a sad look.

“Read the letter. You’ll understand everything” he told me and left

I hurriedly opened the letter and read what was written:

Dear Annabeth,

I hope I was able to give this to you in person but if not then so be it. You have been my best friend for over 10 years at this point and our friendship was the most cherished thing I ever had. You made me laugh, think, enjoy life and many more things. I’m sorry we couldn’t grow old together like we said we would but just know I’ll always be supporting you along the way. I have stage 4 leukaemia and it is incurable. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier but I didn’t want to worry you. This is getting really long but I just wanted to let you know that you were the best thing in my life and I will always be with you in your heart. Please don’t grieve over me. I love you.

Your best friend,

Y/n

Tears pooled in my eyes as I continued reading the letter. After I finished I opened the small box which had her necklace inside it.

Her most prized possession.

It was given by her father. A bow and arrow pendant with the most beautiful diamond I had ever seen. She wouldn’t even let people see it forget touching it.

How was I to live without my best friend? I can’t be without her.

Why are the gods so cruel? Why did they have to take her away?

I broke down in the middle of the field crying.

Everyone passing by gave me sad looks and walked away knowing I’d want to be left alone.

My best friend was dead. My sister. My lifeline. My support and my soul had been ripped away from me.

All she wanted was to see me before she died and I couldn’t even do that. What kind of a friend was I?

She was gone and there was nothing I could do to bring her back.

A/n: Let me know your guys feedback on this and let me know what other people/genres you want me to write about! Requests are open. Kissies ✨

#percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #annabeth chase x you #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth pjo #annabeth chase #annabeth x reader #annabeth percy jackson #clarisse x reader #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #pjoverse

[strawnarrries]

because im sad about the last show, here's a little imagine about y/n and harry reminiscing the past two years the night before the last show :(

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized it was still dark outside, a sign that it was not quite morning just yet. You're not sure why you woke up. It was like your body knew something was off because when you turned over, the bed was empty beside you.

Rubbing your eyes to clear the sleepy haze, you noticed light coming from under the closed door of the bedroom in the villa you and Harry are staying in. Getting up out of bed, you opened the door and the sudden change in lighting burned your eyes. After getting used to it, you walked towards the kitchen and spotted your husband, leaning up against the counter, sipping on something inside of a mug.

“Harry?” you hummed, walking up to him.

“Oh hey, did I wake you up? I’m sorry," he looked up at you with doe eyes and messy hair sticking up in every direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You popped your bottom lip out and wrapped your arms around his bare waist, his instinctively wrapping around yours after setting his mug on the counter, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just can't believe the last show's tomorrow night.”

“Aw, I know. You wanna talk about it?” you hummed, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna miss it. A lot," he whispered, "but at the same time I'm excited for a long break."

"It's bittersweet."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"It's gonna be weird not getting to watch you on stage every night in your sparkly outfits."

He chuckled softly, "You don't get those outfits at home, do ya?"

"No, I get you either naked or in the one stupid shirt that you refuse to throw away even though it's practically in shreds."

"Thought you loved that shirt?" he teased.

You glared up at him before changing the subject, "What'dya think you'll miss the most? Just being on stage?"

"Yeah. Performing. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do. I just get such a rush from being out there and interacting with the fans and hearing them scream my lyrics."

"And hearing them bark at you," you added.

He giggled, "Yes, that too."

"You'll be back though. It's not the end."

“You're right. I feel like this tour was just special for some reason, I dunno. I fear I’m gonna get really emotional tomorrow on stage though. I was holding back tears at the show the other night," he chuckled.

“It’s okay to get emotional. You know me and your mom will be sobbing the entire night."

He smiled softly as he cupped your jaw and rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheek, "I've been reflecting a lot recently. So much has happened in the last two years. It's wild."

“You've done, like what, 150 shows?”

“169 tomorrow."

“Holy shit, Harry. Most of them were completely sold out too. Do you realize how incredible that is?”

“It's mad. I think this has been the most successful tour I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh, by far.”

“Gonna miss seeing everyone every day. Gonna miss the fans and being up on stage. I've had some of the best shows of my life on this tour.”

“Harryween,” you giggled fondly at the memory that popped into your head.

“That was fun as fuck,” he giggled back.

“You’ve done more than just tour though. So many award shows, Coachella, music videos, you starred in two different movies, Harry.”

“I have,” he nodded, smiling proudly at himself, "Looking back, the amount of love and support that I've gotten from everyone, the fans, my team, my friends, and family, and from you is just - it's - it's so overwhelming like I can't even explain it to you. Like my mind can't comprehend that this is my life. Been 13 years and I still can't believe it."

"'cause you deserve it, baby. With the amount of love you give out and just the type of person you are in general, you deserve everything that's come your way. Have I ever told you how proud of you I am?" you teased, being the fact that those words leave your lips multiple times after every single one of his accomplishments.

"Never. Not once," he chuckled.

“Well, I am,” you hummed pressing a sweet kiss to his sternum, just under where his cross necklace lay, "It makes me feel so prideful that I get to call you my husband."

“Thank you, my love. You know I wouldn't be here without you.”

You rested your head on his warm chest, hugging him tighter, embracing the sweet silence before breaking it, "Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded as you looked back up at him.

“I know it's selfish but a big part of me is excited that it’s over because then I get you all to myself and don’t have to share you with the world.”

“Finally don’t have to hear you nagging for my attention all the time,” he chuckled.

“Heyyyyyy,” you whined.

“I’m joking, baby.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly.

“We have a lot to look forward to.”

“Like what?” he asked, although he knew exactly what you were referencing to, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“You becoming a daddy.”

“Really lookin forward to that. I can’t wait ‘till you have a cute little baby bump.”

“Gotta get me pregnant first.”

"You don't gotta worry 'bout that. We’re gonna be goin' at it all day every day when we’re on holiday next month,” he smirked.

“I can't even explain to you how excited I am for that. Vacation Harry is my favorite Harry."

He grinned, “I love you, Y/N."

“I love you too.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses before you hummed sleepily, “Will you come back to bed with me now?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #hslot #fluff #harry fluff #one direction fluff #harry styles fluff

[miyseung]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: Sunghoon has never felt any spark in his heart, none of that silly love he’s read about in novels in his free time. No one interested him, and it wasn’t like his father, the king, would let him have friends, male or female, for fear of being betrayed or developing feelings for them. He lived a life of isolation, excited for nothing – neither the idea of being married to a pretty princess nor becoming the next ruler of the Park kingdom. He most certainly did not expect you, his new guard, to change all that. He did not expect you to brighten his days and light up his heart.

includes: death, murder, war/battle, attempted murder (kinda), breaking in, royal au, romanticized medieval setting of sorts, forced marriage/proposal, a lot of time skips so it moves somewhat quickly, brief mention of a toxic ex, death by illness, joking mention of jumping off a balcony, blood, wounds, denial of death kinda, graves, lmk if i missed anything!

genre: angst

pairing: prince! sunghoon x guard! fem! reader

word count: 8.1k (woah)

taglist: @kflixnet @kpopslays @jvjsssnaa a/n: it’s finally here! i sacrificed sleep for this and i do not regret it at all. this fic has two milestones for me - being my longest fic + a fic i’m kinda proud of. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it <3

PLEASE REBLOG/COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC 🫶

Sunghoon was reading over some papers pertaining to the kingdom’s matters when he heard a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

One of the guards came in, before bowing upon seeing him.

“Sire, his Majesty wishes to see you.”

He nodded and set the papers in a neat stack. He then put them in a drawer and locked it for security. He then stood up and followed the guard, maintaining a neutral expression.

His mind was working much faster than normal though.

His father was very strict, and the slightest mistake meant an extremely harsh lecture. He flicked through his memories, trying to remember what he could have done wrong, and what he should say as his apology. 

He pursed his lips as a thought crossed his mind - was his recent trip to the colder regions made known to his father? He had gone for administrative work, but he couldn’t resist spending some time there ice skating, which the king always considered useless since it benefited only the person skating, not the country. He had done his best to keep it under wraps, but maybe one of the guards reported this to the king. Damn it.

He mentally slapped himself for using such crude language. Those were the words of peasants and did not suit a prince like him. Holy moly…buckling barnacles, great heavens…such lengthy words to express frustration, he thought. ‘Damn it’ was only two syllables.

As he snapped out of his reverie, he entered the Throne Room. His father was seated on the grand throne at the end of the airy space. The seats where the ministers sat were empty. Court was always in the morning, and it was probably lunchtime by now - the prince wasn’t sure. 

He stood a few feet away from his father. The guard bowed and left, and Sunghoon made eye contact with the old man in front of him. He didn’t seem angry, so the younger relaxed a bit, letting out a sigh.

“Why have you called me here, father?”

“I’ve received some proposals from other kings. They’ve sent me paintings of their daughters. A lovely selection of princesses, I must say.”

Sunghoon had to physically hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

“Father, I’ve already told you this. I am not ready for marriage and I am not interested in this topic.”

“Yes, but it’s good to start early. Maybe you’ll change your mind after-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Father, but why have you actually summoned me?”

The king narrowed his eyes at his son but didn’t say anything more about the topic.

“Well, I’ve decided to get you a personal guard. There have been many threats of attacks on the palace, so it’s better to take this precaution.”

“Interesting. Will he be with me all the time or-”

“She.”

“What?”

“Your guard is a female.”

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. His father? Hiring a woman? As his bodyguard? What if he-

“Are you serious?” “Yes. She is very capable and I’m sure she will protect and serve you well. I trust you to keep your relationship with her strictly professional.”

It wasn’t like he knew how to have a non-professional relationship with anyone outside of his family anyway.

“Yes, Father. Will she be with me at all times?”

“Indeed she will, except for when you are sleeping. At that time, she will stand outside your door and guard you.” “What about her food and sleep?”

“That is not your concern.”

“But-”

“Silence!”

He immediately bowed his head slightly as a sign of remorse for stepping out of line. This was going to be interesting, he thought. He had little to no interaction with women outside of his mother and sister, and the small talk he made with princesses and duchesses of other kingdoms was always awkward. Now he was having someone of the opposite gender, a woman, watching over him nearly 24/7.

He slowed down his train of thought. Why was he thinking like a teenage boy ogling over a girl? He was the crown prince, he was better than that. It was going to be a new experience, that was all.

“May I meet her now?”

“Of course. She’s arriving as we speak.”

Just then, the door opened, and you entered, a male soldier on either side. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out of it. 

He was having a cultural shock of sorts. All the women he had met were all dainty, graceful and poised - the epitome of perfection. You, on the other hand, had an air of authority about you — rough and firm. A few scars were on your face, probably from battle. You bowed the full 90 degrees, and he could only respond with a small nod.

Oh fuck, you were gorgeous.

And he used foul language again. Stupid Sunghoon, he reprimanded himself.

He didn’t take back what he said, however. Your beauty wasn’t the type written in books or sung in ballads, but it had to be known to the world, somehow. He was almost tempted to write one himself. 

Hold on, why was he thinking all this? His father had just told him to not think anything about you that crossed the lines of professional, and thinking about how pretty you were was not within those lines.

“This is your new personal guard, Y/N.”

You came over to him and bowed again, although at a smaller angle than before.

“N…Nice to meet you, Y-Y/N.”

Did he just stutter?!

“It is an honor, my prince. I swear to serve you to the best of my abilities.”

“I’m sure you will.”

He managed a small, formal smile, looking completely pleasant and unfazed.

Which he very much was not. He wanted to jump off the nearest balcony when you said ‘my prince’. He didn’t know why - you weren’t the only one who addressed him in that manner. You might’ve even learned it from someone in the palace, so why was he so hot and bothered with the way you said it?

“Your duties start today, guard.”

“Yes, your Majesty. I will not let you down.”

He was going crazy. You were just his new guard. Nothing less, nothing more. He would just have to rein in his thoughts and get it all together. Not a difficult task at all.

As you stood behind him as he walked through the kingdom’s streets a week later, he seemed to keep a little distance from you, which was unsafe. Anything could happen within a few meters.

“My prince, you must slow your pace.”

He turned his face to look at you as he stopped walking.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“There’s a gap between us, and anyone could attack you with that.”

“Ah. I see. In that case…you can walk next to me. Or something.”

You stood next to him now. He quickly looked at the fruits a vendor was selling, trying his best to avert his gaze so that you wouldn’t see his reddening cheeks. It was unknown to him as to why he was so flustered. You were only doing your job, and that was it.

“Our kingdom seems to produce good crops.”

“Indeed they do, my prince. The farmer and the cultivators work very hard. It always seems to go unnoticed for some damn reason, though.”

He heard the angry tone in your voice and the curse word you said. This seemed to be a sore topic for you. He was curious, so he decided to ask more.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“We export more crops so that they get more revenue and in turn, they get paid as well. Increase the demand.”

You shrugged before turning your attention to a little kid who was clinging to your leg. You leaned down and patted his head, smiling a bit. The kid laughed and ran away. Sunghoon watched this interaction with interest and it dawned upon him that you cared about the people and their welfare, like a good ruler. 

Wait, why was he thinking about you being a ruler? You were only a soldier, and with the hierarchy now, there wasn’t much chance you could become more.

It did make him wonder, however, what you would do if the people rebelled. He shook his head, not wanting to think so dark. Your suggestion was smart, though. It made more sense the more he pondered over it. He’d mention this to the old man and see what he’d say.

“Shall we move on, guard?”

You stood up properly before nodding.

“Yes, my prince. Apologies for slowing you down.”

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing of the sort. Come, let’s go.”

You both continued your stroll and for some reason, his heart was beating very unnaturally. He only had this issue when he was agitated, but there was no reason for him to be scared now, so why was this happening?

It had only been two months since you became his personal guard, yet you were his closest and most trusted friend. He took all your ideas seriously and told them to the king who somehow accepted them, and called him ‘ingenious’ for supposedly coming up with them. He hated taking false credit, but he knew that he couldn’t tell his father that you were the mastermind of them all — he would then question Sunghoon as to why he was talking to them in the first place, which would lead to you being removed from your post and replaced with a boring male soldier. 

He didn’t want to lose you, not when he finally found a change in his monotonous life, someone to brighten his dull days, someone to call a friend, even though it was only known to the both of you and no one else. He couldn’t bear to have you gone.

He was sitting underneath a tree, looking up at the sky in the comfort of the gardens reserved for his family and visitors alone. His father never came here out of his own accord - he always considered it a waste of time. His mother was in her room, and her sister was in another kingdom discussing alliances. This was a moment very rare, just you and him, with no one to interrupt or catch you two slacking. 

You were sitting next to him, only a few inches away. The wind was blowing gently on his face. He closed his eyes and smiled, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Your presence next to him was oddly comforting. He opened his eyes again, turned his head, and looked at you, wanting to ask you something. 

“Guard, you know how I always give your suggestions to the king and how he always says ‘I’ did a good job thinking about them?”

Your face tightened the same way it did every time he took credit for your ideas in front of his father. He sighed.

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I wanted to apologize for that.”

You tilted your head at him, clearly not understanding two things - why he was suddenly saying sorry, and how you doing that simple thing made him go insane. You took over him, body and soul. All he could think of when he tried to sleep was you. It was just two months. Two months, and he was already attached to you. He was convinced, however, that it wasn’t love or anything stupid like that. No, it was simply him forming a close connection to the first person who cared about him. Not everything was romantic affection. He had never tasted this emotion, obviously, but he’d say that he knew enough about it to confirm this wasn’t it.

“Why now, my prince? I’m sorry- I just didn’t expect you to, y’know…actually apologize. Never met a royal who’s done so. They’re all usually stuck-up snobs who think their shit is worth the entire kingdom.”

He snorted at that. It wasn’t like you were wrong, most of the royals he met were indeed very arrogant. He didn’t dare anything about it though, simply doing his best to not behave like them.

“It’s not right of me to take credit for something I don’t even have the brain for. I don’t mention your name for your security. If my father knew I was talking to you about matters like these, then…”

He made a motion of him cutting his own throat, complete with the sound effect. You grinned a bit, which was enough for him to be over the moon, but then you laughed. Not just a ‘teehee’ or a ‘haha’ - an actual, proper laugh. His heart swelled, maybe his jokes didn’t suck that much. Your laugh was indescribable. It was a delightful sound to listen to. It was short, but he wanted to hear it every day at least once for the rest of his life instead of those ballads that were sung in the court all the time. 

The way your eyes formed crescents, the way your face was half in the light and half in the shadow, the way the wind put an orange leaf in your hair like it was an accessory - it was making him sick in a good way. He rarely saw you smile, let alone laugh like this. He knew that you had to keep your expression serious all the time - all the soldiers had that training - and this was a proud moment for him to see you loosen up. He couldn’t help the small smile on his own face.

“My prince, is he really that harsh? I’m aware that he is super damn strict to us soldiers, but that’s expected since we have to be toughened up to protect the land.”

His smile faded before he shook his head in agreement.

“I’d say so. It’s for my good- I am the next in line, after all.”

“I don’t think forcing your child to have no friends is how you raise him to be king. He won’t know how to have proper social interactions.”

There you were again, hitting the mark accurately with your observation. He sucked at interacting with other people. Slowly, he was starting to dislike his father more. The faults he never saw in him earlier were becoming visible, the saint-like image he had of the king since childhood fading away. Was this meant to happen? He wasn’t sure.

“Right. I’m living proof.”

You shook your head in alarm.

“Oh shit- please don’t be offended by my idiotic statement, my prince…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, really-”

He chuckled at how you were panicking and made a motion with his hand for you to calm down.

“It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He saw your body relax as he rested his head against the bark of the tree again. He gazed at the sky, eyes fixated on the clouds and the way they moved in the direction of the breeze. Two questions lingered in his mind, and his mouth suddenly blurted one out.

“Do you ever sleep?”

It was random, sure, but he had to know. He was concerned for you. He never saw you leave his side, except for when he was asleep, and he already knew what you did then. You were still staring at him, but he didn’t notice.

“I do. I’m a normal person, my prince, I can’t function without food and rest. That’s impossible.”

“When?”

You let out a slight laugh at his curiosity, and his heart started pounding faster again.

“You don’t notice, do you? That means I’m performing the stealth part of my job well. When you’re in the dining room or a meeting surrounded by the best soldiers. That’s when. I also don’t stand watch for you every night. I alternate with another guard.”

His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in understanding. He didn’t notice it at all, which meant that either you were a master of stealth, as you said, or he was just blind. It was most likely the former since he had no doubt in your abilities.

“I see. I was very worried for you, honestly.”

“I’m honored that I was an object of your concern, my prince.”

He scoffed at your slightly surprised expression. 

“Of course, I would. You’re my personal guard, what reason is there for me to treat you inhumanly?”

That stupid fucking slip of his tongue.

Shit, he just cursed.

Damn it, again.

His tutor and family would go crazy if they could read his thoughts.

Of course he had to refer to you as his, like you were property. Of course he had to emphasize on that word as well. You were making him loosen up too much. It shouldn’t have happened, not at all. He couldn’t continue like this, what if he accidentally cursed in front of people? He would never be heard of again.

“I’d say I had expected that, but you’re different from other royals, so not really.”

“I understand. Also, you don’t have to call me ‘my prince’ when we’re alone. Just Sunghoon is enough.”

Your eyes widened in astonishment.

“My prince, I wouldn’t dare to-”

“Really guard. It’s fine.”

“But his Majesty-”

“He doesn’t have to know. Our secret.”

“If you say so…it’ll take me time to get used to calling you by your name, princ- I mean, Sunghoon.”

“Already getting there.”

“I guess so. In that case, you can call me by just my name. No need for ‘guard’.”

“Your wish is my command, Y/N.”

This was new. Not referring to someone by their title was disrespectful. He learned from a ripe young age that if he didn’t call someone by their title, he could end up with his head on a guillotine block in some places. Were you seriously making all his long years of education unravel? Silence fell upon the two of you before he spoke up again.

“What do you think love is like?”

You must’ve been taken aback, and he expected to see such an expression on your face. Instead, when he stole a glance at you, it was something else. Wistful? Longing? He couldn’t name it exactly.

“Books don’t give it justice. Neither do ballads. It’s…more than that.”

He was intrigued by your response. He raised an eyebrow, signalling you to continue.

“Oh? You’ve been in love before?”

You stared at him, a sad smile forming on your lips, a look flashing in your eyes. One of remorse, he recognized.

“Yeah. It was depressingly…beautiful.”

His chest tightened at your words for some reason.

“Heartbreak?”

“Kind of. We fought a lot…our personalities were very different. Then when we finally reconciled…he died. An illness took him away.”

Your eyes were filled with so much hurt, it almost made him cry. This was his first time seeing you emotional, vulnerable, and while he was honored that you trusted him enough to show you this side of yours, he wondered how much you were hiding away. All he wanted was to protect you so that you would never have to go through something as painful as that. He made a resolve to make sure that he was never the cause of the agony in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s fine. It was just- unexpected. It’s been a year anyway.”

“I hope this doesn’t bring back memories you buried, but…how would you describe love?”

You rested your chin on your palm, thinking for a bit.

“Love isn’t only about the physical signs. For me, love is always wanting to be by someone’s side, being so head over heels for them that even the littlest things like…I don’t know, something stupid, makes you remember them. It’s being their biggest supporter, but also telling them when they’re wrong. Love is wanting to keep them safe from all the bad in this world. It’s when even the simplest thing they do brightens your day, like a smile or a small act of kindness. Love is when you put their needs and wants above everything and everyone else. There’s obviously more, but that’s my personal experience.”

Holy moly. Sunghoon was in love.

He was in love. That emotion many desired to feel at least once. All his previous notions and confidence about it being platonic flew out the window. He very clearly did not learn enough about this feeling. He didn’t know whether he wanted to be happy that he could say he had loved once in his life, or scream in frustration that he fell for someone out of his league and not some princess who he was supposed to want like this.

God, he hated himself.

“Pri- Sunghoon, are you okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t let you know, he was a hundred percent sure that you didn’t feel the same. Plus, he was the prince, and if you both were caught, it would mean bad for him and catastrophic for you.

“I’m fine. Come, let’s go. We might get caught if we stay any longer.”

He stood up immediately. You were confused but followed his orders. What he said, you obeyed.

It had been eight months since you became his personal guard, and half a year since he realized that he was in love with you. He tried to distance himself, but one look or word from you and his resolve faltered. He was so deep in this pit, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to dig deeper or climb out. He wanted you to stay away and he also loved the way you destroyed every single one of the walls he built around himself subconsciously. 

He matured, and he was no longer the shy boy who didn’t know how to talk to someone of the opposite gender. He was a confident and charming crown prince now, the man of many’s dreams. You were the only one on his mind though. 

His father was now eager to get him married off, and he had to comply with his wishes, He was no longer the king who served the people anymore - he was corrupted, only thinking about power. Sunghoon did his best to undo the damage inflicted on the population, but the situation was getting tense, and he knew it. Rebels were raising their heads and it was his job to keep them in check. It was difficult, but you helped him through it.

Presently, he was sitting in the dining room with his family, the king, queen, princess, and officials of the Hwan kingdom. This was the proposal his father liked the most because the Hwan kingdom was rich in resources, and this alliance hidden as a marriage would give the Parks access to those coveted precious stones. He was hoping, however, that the other king would say no for some reason and he’d be free.

He had no interest in the princess, however. She was too boring for him. They had zero common likes, and the only thing they related to each other on was the struggles of being next in line. This was probably the worst match he had ever met. She seemed like she wanted this much less than he did. She was at least trying, he had to give her that.

You stood behind him on his right side. He so desperately wanted to turn around and see your reaction to all this. Your face had to have no expression now, obviously, but you both shared secret looks with each other in odd situations, and he was sure you’d find this amusing. The chatter across the table died down suddenly, and all the attention was on the two kings in the room.

“We’ve agreed on this marriage. Prince Sunghoon and Princess Hyeju are now betrothed!”

Sunghoon’s hands, which were tapping the table, stilled. He froze in shock, every voluntary muscle in his body stopping movement.

No, this couldn’t happen.

This was a nightmare, a terrible dream. He pinched his thigh underneath the table and ended up proving to his dismay that he was wrong.

This was the worst day of his life.

His father droned on about the details of the wedding. He tuned it all out. He tilted his head just a little to see your face and noticed that you were gripping your spear much tighter than necessary. You knew that he didn’t want this, not at all. Maybe you were angry on his behalf.

He couldn’t do anything about this, however. This was just his fate, and he resigned to it immediately. 

The meeting ended, and everyone, including Sunghoon, stood up and exited the room. You followed him as he went straight to the gardens to clear his head. His family would be occupied with entertaining the guests and making more plans, so it was just you and him. Again.

He sat in his usual spot underneath the same tree. He buried his face in his hands, frustrated. He heard the sound of you sitting down next to him, before feeling your hand lightly grip his shoulder.

“Hey, Sunghoon?”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s fine.”

“I know how much you don’t want this. Trust me, I don’t want it either.”

The second sentence was uttered in a more quiet voice, and he moved his hands away from his face to look at you in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Your lips formed a thin line, your body language making it clear that you were saying this with hesitation.

“I don’t want you to marry her.”

You removed your hand from his shoulder. You looked down at the grass, fresh and green from the new spring season.

“Why? I mean- other than me not wanting it personally, there’s no reason you should hate it…this is an amazing opportunity for the people and the kingdom! We will prosper-”

“Fuck the people and the kingdom- I want you, dumbass.”

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

“What…do you mean.”

“I love you really badly. That’s what I mean.”

He couldn’t believe it. You, the very person he always desired desperately, his forbidden fruit, loved him back? Wanted him? This wasn’t real. He must’ve been knocked out after the marriage announcement and slipped into a pleasant dream.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You want me to prove it?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but you grabbing his face and crashing your lips on his was the farthest from his vague idea of what might happen. 

It lasted for a few seconds before you pulled away suddenly. You noticed his dazed expression and started to panic.

“Shit, shouldn’t have done that, please don’t kill me, I-”

Your voice snapped him out of his haze before he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you in for another kiss. His hand tucked one strand of hair behind your ear and you melted into the action, calming down instantly. He was so gentle, so careful, he was holding you like you were a delicate object that was to be treated with utmost care at all times. When you both parted, his face wore a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling like stars.

“I feel the same.”

“Yeah, it was obvious.”

He chuckled at your comment, before frowning. 

“You know this is dangerous, right? We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders slumped at his words, knowing that he was completely correct.

“I do. I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I just didn’t…know how to tell you.”

He shook his head. To him, you could do no wrong. It was his fault. He should have gotten rid of you so that he could nip the blooming flower in his heart from the bud. He shouldn’t have been such a coward.

“I understand what you mean now. I don’t know how to stop it, though.”

“That’s…fine. Just knowing you feel the same is enough for me.”

It wasn’t. Neither for you, neither for him, and you both knew that. The fact that he couldn’t be yours and you couldn’t be his simply because of both of your duties was like a nasty, sharp torn ledged in the soft flesh of his heart. You and him were not meant to be. Your romance was only a fantasy, to be never fulfilled.

“Precisely. This is all it’ll ever be.”

It was night. He had one week until his wedding with the Hwan princess, and he was dreading it. Seeing your face became unbearable for him sometimes — you reminded him that he had everything a commoner could only dream of, but even the poorest of poor could love and he couldn’t. He was ready to throw his entire life away and disappear with you, but his fear of what would happen next to the country held him back. 

He stared out the window in his bedroom which gave him a perfect view of the private gardens. The place where it all started and ended. The moonlight shone on the trees and flowers, giving it a peaceful aura, different from the cheery one it had in the daytime. Even in the comfort of his silk night clothes and soft blankets, he was in a state of unrest. He wanted to run, wanted to be free, wanted, wanted, wanted. He lay down, resting his head on his pillow as he waited for sleep to find him while he closed his eyes. Thankfully, the night was kind to him, and he dozed off almost instantly.

Sunghoon was rudely woken up by you frantically shaking his figure, pleading with you to wake up. When he came to his senses, he heard alarms sounding in the palace and immediately understood that it was an emergency, although what might’ve exactly happened was beyond him.

“Y/N, Y/N, I’m up. What’s going on?”

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and slapping his face for good measure.

“Rebels. Come, we need to run.”

The first word was enough for him to be fully alert. He foresaw them coming, so it wasn’t a big shocker for him. He put on his slippers and looked at you with determination. He was actually trying to mask his fear, but you didn’t need to know that. You grabbed his arm and ran out of the room. He was a bit startled at your speed at first, but quickly matched your pace. When you both reached a corridor, you slowed down, wanting to be careful of surprise attacks.

“Hide your face to the best of your ability. I’m not sure if they’ll recognize you in non-prince clothes, but it’s better to be safe. They’ll aim for me instead since I have the palace uniform.”

His chest tightened. You were ready to give up your life for his. He knew that was protocol for all soldiers - royals over their own lives. He knew, but you were different. He didn’t want you to die, he couldn’t imagine a life without you. You were his oxygen, he’d suffocate if you were gone.

Suddenly, he noticed a flash of light. He heard a whoosh and he saw the way your hair moved in the direction of the sound. He assumed it was a gust of air along with the lights of the palace shining weirdly, but then he looked at the wall in front of him and realized what it was - an arrow. It was embedded in said wall, and you had missed it by a hair’s breath. Literally. It had scratched your face, but other than that, you were fine.

You pulled him down to remain on the floor, before you stood up and ran to the rebel that shot it, your hands gripping your sword tight. You engaged in combat with her. She was rather buff, and even though she only had a bow and an arrow holder on her, she was slowly gaining ground in the fight. She was blocking your thrusts with her bow, catching your moves with its string. She landed a harsh blow on your chest, and he gritted his teeth seeing your sharp flinch. He had to do something and fast.

He crawl-walked across the floor, making sure to stay unnoticed. He moved to stand behind the rebel before forcefully grabbing her neck. She was gagged, and the sudden lack of air caught her off guard. You took the opportunity and struck her in the heart, and he let go of her. 

You both ran off, eager to get to the safe room specially built for situations like this. Barely some distance away, he raised his head, neck aching from the constant strain, when you suddenly pushed him to the ground and covered his mouth with your hand. He was about to protest, feeling kind of hot and bothered with his position, but then he decided against it. You definitely did this for a reason, and he could repress his feelings for a while.

Your head turned as you stared at a rebel passing by, praying he wouldn’t notice you both. He was blind to your movement thankfully, and as soon as he left, you got off of Sunghoon, pulled him up, and ran. You pushed the door of the safe room which was behind a cupboard open with your shoulder, and he then realized that he was the first one to reach. The door closed, and he glanced at you, relief and gratitude clear in his eyes. 

You gave him a thumbs up and turned to leave to assist the other soldiers with getting the rest of his family to the room when he suddenly grabbed your wrist. You looked at him with confusion, and you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing when he placed his lips on yours. You let out a soft gasp when he held you closer, one arm around your waist, the other hand on your back, holding you close. This wasn’t like the last time you kissed — this was desperate, filled with emotion. He let go of you too soon, eyes shining with tears. 

You both knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t come back to him, and this could be the last time he saw you.

You squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. He just nodded at the door, knowing that you had your duty. You bowed and left as he watched you in fear, praying that you’d make it.

After the attack by the rebels, there were always new questions about the palace’s security floating around. Quite a few lives were lost. None of them were you or his family, but Sunghoon still grieved for them mentally. He couldn’t imagine the agony their families must’ve been going through, and he managed to convince his father to give all the deceased’s close relatives compensation. 

The wedding was called off for now, much to his delight and his father’s despair. The old man had accused him of doing something to sabotage it, but he had grown a thicker skin, thanks to you. All efforts were now being put into strengthening the forces of the kingdom, and the actual matters of state were being ignored. This would lead to more rebellion, but his father didn’t seem to care. At this rate, he could die if he stepped out of the palace grounds — the people hated him that much. Sunghoon was already preparing to become the next ruler since that future would become a reality pretty soon. 

A surprise attack was inevitable, but he didn’t expect the aggressor to be the damn Hwan kingdom.

They must’ve heard about the damage inflicted on the palace from spies and knew that the Park kingdom would be focusing its efforts on repairing it, thus taking advantage of the situation. It was smart of king Hwan, Sunghoon would give him that.

He rode his horse while inspecting the soldiers preparing for battle. None of them were properly ready for this. Many veteran soldiers were on break and were called back suddenly. They all did come, and he was grateful to them for that, even when they had the right to refuse. The troops were arranging their positions quickly, and a little bit of his anxiety relaxed. Their army was strong, they could face this.

As he rode back, he saw his father, who was seething with rage at being betrayed, Sunghoon’s brain was in overdrive. Many of these brave soldiers would sacrifice their body and soul for a stupid fight that wouldn’t bring much to the land that could have been easily prevented. He knew it would happen, but didn’t do anything that was enough to fix it. He couldn’t keep falling short of what was necessary, that wasn’t what a future king would do. 

Not wanting to talk to the old man, he rode a little further where you were on your own horse, surveying the battlefield. He relaxed a bit more upon seeing you and moved to be next to you.

“This will be a tough fight, Sunghoon.”

“I hope it remains a fight that ends today and not a war that stretches over days.”

“Where we are victorious.”

“Obviously.”

“My- Sunghoon, what will you do in case your father…is killed?”

The slip-up and the way ‘my Sunghoon’ rolled off your tongue so perfectly made him miss your actual question for a moment. He let out a soft giggle, before manning up to think. He hadn’t considered that possibility at all. If that happened, then he would automatically become the next king. He’d rule the land and hopefully lead better than the previous king and his reign would be peaceful. He’d make sure of that.

“Be the next ruler, of course. I’d promote you to my personal advisor.”

You cracked a small smile at that.

“Not enough brain. Plus, what if I don’t make it?”

“Won’t happen. You’re too sexy to die. Your abilities are top tier too, you’ll survive.”

You laughed now, and he smiled fully at you. This was a situation unheard of — right before a whole battle, he was here flirting with you and laughing. So very serious. 

He leaned his head closer to yours, hair falling over his eyes. They were pleading silently with you to steal one last kiss, one last secret gesture of love before you both left to fight, one last chance to hold you. You shortened the gap, about to comply, when the war horn sounded, signaling the start of the battle. He frowned, angry at the lost chance, but quickly kissed your forehead. You pecked his cheek in return, before putting on your helmet and riding off. 

The sound of hooves hitting the ground and the sight of dust flying from them brought him back into the moment, and he rode in the same direction as his own army, intending to lead the fight. His father was weak and made dumb decisions, so it was up to him. He moved directly to the frontlines, pulling out his sword from its hilt as an enemy soldier charged at him. He fought with ease, and soon a dead body was on the ground.

He should have been desensitized now upon seeing gore and corpses, but it still disgusted him. He gritted his teeth and averted his gaze as he parried with more enemies. Soldiers were dropping left and right from both sides. Blood splatters were on his own face from fighting so fiercely. It was a miracle that he was still standing with only minor injuries, the Hwan soldiers were vigorous. 

Time was passing quickly, although for him it felt like an eternity. He just wanted to go back after all this ended. He didn’t care if he had to marry the Hwan princess, all he wanted was for this bloodshed to end. The sound of arrows being shot, horses neighing, grunts of hurt and dying soldiers — it was all too much for him.

All of a sudden, a more experienced soldier was attacking him, he could tell by the moves. His entire focus was on fighting back because this guy could actually kill him, that much was clear. He didn’t notice the other soldier charging towards him from his left with a spear until he heard a clang. 

His eyes darted in the direction of the sound for a second, only to see you had blocked the attack and thrown the soldier off his horse. He was impressed and inspired by you, and with renewed strength, he killed the veteran. He gave you a thumbs up, before looking to his right as someone else ran to replace the deceased soldier. He was ready to fight that person and everyone else with you and for you.

Then, tragedy struck.

An arrow was heading in his direction. Occupied with the current fight he was in, Sunghoon was in no position to dodge it, and you took the blow. Pushing his horse with your own, the arrow lodged in your chest instead. The only reason he noticed it was because of the sound of pain you made. He finished off the man fighting him, and then turned his head to look at you. Your head was drooping slightly and your grip on the reins of your horse had faltered.

No, no, no, this can’t happen!

You were supposed to stay with him, you were supposed to be by his side forever, he was supposed to get more chances to love you, even in secret, not just lose you like this.

He immediately shoved his sword back in its hilt before grabbing your torso to steady you. You were very faintly there, you just had to keep going a bit more for him, and he knew you could.

“Y/N, hold on, okay? Don’t close your eyes, please.”

“Try…ing.”

Fuck, your voice was so weak, you really were trying. He’d end your suffering soon, he promised silently.

Coincidentally, the war horn sounded once more, signifying the end of the battle. It was his kingdom’s, which meant he had won, just like you wanted. 

But you weren’t conscious enough to realize it.

He promptly sat you on his horse in front of him, one arm around your waist holding you close and tight. He galloped fast to the palace medic, the best one in the entire region. He ignored the weird looks and the shouts of his name, traveling with urgency. He had to move fast for your sake, and also for his own. He’d lose his shit if you…no. You weren’t going to, he was sure of it.

“Try to not focus on the pain, we’re almost there.”

That was stupid advice, but he had to say something, anything to save him.

“This doctor will fix you up, I swear. Just- don’t give up yet, Y/N. I beg of you. It’s all I’ll ask for this badly from you.”

Your head was now tilted back, and it rested on his right shoulder. You opened your eyes slightly to look at him, which he took as a good sign.

Then you spoke.

“I won’t…won’t make it. It’s…no point…denying it…my…Hoon, I…love you.”

At your words, Sunghoon’s lips formed a thin line as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds to force his tears to stay back. He could feel the blood running from your wound and collecting onto the sleeve of his suit, but he refused to accept it. You would make it, you couldn’t die.

“Shut-Shut up. You’re not dying, not when I’m here. Look, we’ve reached- you’ll be okay, I swear.”

He got off the horse, your limp body in his arms bridal style.

He wished he could be holding you like this in a different, more happier situation.

The doctor rushed out of her house and knew that it was urgent upon seeing the prince at her door. She took you in and he waited outside, pacing around nervously. He was so certain you’d survive, but the wound could be a major setback for the rest of your life. He’d have to make adjustments to accommodate you at the palace. He wouldn’t mind though, it was for you after all.

The doctor came out after a few minutes, and he waited for her to say something along the lines of ‘she survived, but ___’. Not to see her shake her head with a soft sigh. 

“I’m sorry. She didn’t make it. She was gone when you came here. We tried our best, but…the arrow was poison tipped, which reduced her chances of surviving to zero.”

No. No no no no no. This lady was old and wrinkling, she was probably cuckoo and playing an unfunny prank on him.

“Can I see her? Alone?”

“Of course, sire.”

He rushed inside immediately, expecting to see you on the bed bandaged up and smiling at how well the prank worked on him-

She was right. You really were gone. You took your last breath in his arms. Your arms rested limply by your sides. The arrow was removed, but the blood stains were on your armor as evidence that the fatal injury did indeed happen. Useful reminder for a delusional ass like his. Your helmet was off your head now.

He sat down on a chair next to your bed and held one of your hands gingerly. It was already turning cold, and he hated it. He felt freshly made cuts and bruises along with older scars on your palm. His gaze fell on your face. The scratch you got from the rebel’s ambush was still partially healing. He took in your features with intense concentration, engraving them in his memory. He despised the fact that you looked so much at peace right now – when you just left his entire life in turmoil. He needed so badly to shake you back to life or something, but he knew that there was no point now. He lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing it in a tender manner, a weak replacement for the one you both missed maybe an hour or two before. 

Just when he let go of your hand, the doctor rushed in with news.

“Sire, his majesty has passed away due to a…similar poisonous arrow shortly after victory.”

Both the people he knew wanted to win the most were dead just after it happened. Ironic, he thought - this was worthless now.

King Sunghoon walked through the cemetery for soldiers who had sacrificed their lives for the country. He stopped right in front of one which had many flower bouquets, a lot of them from his own previous visits, all of them your favorite flowers. He got on his knees on the right side of your gravestone, head bowed in respect and hands folded in his lap.

“Hello, Y/N. I know I’ve come to see you many times before, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much. You left too soon. I still believe that I should have taken that arrow instead of you…although it was for the better in hindsight. At least your last memory was of me and your pain ended quickly.”

Silence. He quickly wiped his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I still do, so much. I should move on by now, but it’s hard. Not when you meant so much to me, not when you changed me. A little for the worse, mostly for the better.”

He laughed dryly, looking at his hands. An expensive ring gleamed on his ring finger.

“I married a queen who I liked a lot. Not the Hwan princess, although she and I keep in touch often. We’re allies now. Kind of ironic, since I lost you and the old man in a war against that same kingdom’s old ruler.”

He wasn’t willing to let himself break, what if someone walked in on him sobbing over a dead soldier's grave? What would they think? He poked his eyes with his fingers, still in misery. No matter how much he tried, everything in his brain led back to you. While he didn’t want you to fade or leave his mind exactly, you were only meant to be a guest, visiting occasionally, not a permanent resident, not someone he still needed. When he calmed down, he quietly lifted his crown off his head and put it on top of your gravestone. He placed a solemn hand on it, closing his eyes. “This is a love stained crown, tainted with you and I, along with all our memories. Your affection will never wash away, no matter how much I try. I miss you and I love you, and I hope you’re doing better, wherever you are.”

#mallow’s works #mallow’s oneshots #divider by fairytopea #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen royal au #enhypen angst #sungoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #sunghoon royal au #enhypen fic #sunghoon fic #sunghoon prince au #sunghoon enhypen #kflixnet

[awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce]

Peace At Last

A purely self-indulgent Ten x Reader fic because I just love Ten so much okay! (gif made by me)

Let me know what you think!

Read on ao3

Tagging some people I’ve recently followed who I think might like it: @denaliwrites @tatennant @doctor-donnaa @quite-right-too @theetherealbloom @my-lonely-angel @casasupernovas @kbishop @tennant @raining-stars-somewhere-else @davidtennan-t

Ten x Reader, she/her/hers pronouns, one use of Y/N

(Sorry if this causes pain especially since it’s the last episode with Fourteen and David Tennant as The Doctor today. Wishing everyone so much love and hope you can cope with the pain we will all be experiencing in 5 hours!)

They bumped into each other.

Literally.

He wasn’t looking where he was going, just trying to focus on not collapsing in the street before he could make it back to the TARDIS, and she was coming out of a shop.

This was almost the end.

He could feel it.

He felt it when he saw Rose but he couldn’t let go.

Not yet.

He had one more stop.

He wanted to be near where she lived.

He just wanted to be near her.

One last time.

He didn’t want to wipe her memory but he had to.

It wasn’t like it was with Donna but he knew that one day she would die because of him and he didn’t want that.

He couldn’t bear the thought.

It had to be done so she could live and she never would have left of her own accord. She would never leave him willingly so what other choice did he have?

Especially after trying to change time and becoming The Time Lord Victorious. Look how that turned out.

Adelaide Brooke still died only it was his fault instead of it being an accident.

“Oh shit! Sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!” A voice said.

“No, it’s m-” He knew that voice. His luck really was great(!)

He must’ve paused for a beat too long because she spoke again. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

That was her all over. Always worrying and caring about others (him especially).

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just feeling a bit under-the-weather. Winter and all, you know?” His voice didn’t sound like him. It was nervous, slightly high-pitched, and shook a little. He hoped that she didn’t know that there was something wrong.

“I know. You might want to invest in some actual winter clothes though to keep you warm. Converse and winter are not the best combination,” she laughed, looking him up and down at his unusual (to her now anyway) attire.

He could’ve cried and hugged her at hearing the jibe she’s told him multiple times while travelling with him. Instead, he forced himself to laugh and smile at her.

“Yeah, I suppose I should. Maybe one day,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. A habit that he had developed when he was nervous.

She would have noticed and usually tried to comfort him. But not now. The thought made his hearts ache.

“Sorry but do I know you?” She asked, staring at him with a slight frown. His hearts leapt into his throat. “You just seem so familiar. What’s your name?”

He quickly composed himself before replying with a classic phrase. “No, sorry, I don’t think you do. I guess I just have one of those faces. Name’s David. David Smith.”

She had told him to stop with the John Smith alias as “no-one believes that’s your name. I may as well call myself Jane Doe.” So he had changed it as soon as he wiped her mind. Just in case he ever saw her again and the name John Smith made her remember.

“David…” She trailed off, as if she was trying to place the name, still slightly frowning until the crease between her eyebrows eased. “I guess you do just face on of those faces. Sorry about that,” she finished, smiling sheepishly.

He mentally released a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.

“No worries,” he replied, smiling to try to ease her embarrassment that he knew she was feeling.

She may not remember him but he still knew her like the back of every hand he’s ever had.

They stood there for a few moments, longer than two seemingly strangers should, just smiling at each other before she looked away, a light blush colouring her already flushed cheeks from the cold.

His hearts ached again and pain filled his entire being.

He would never get to see her blush from embarrassment due to looking at him for too long again.

“I should probably go before the snow gets worse,” she said.

He looked around and noticed that the snow had started to get heavier since they had been talking.

“Of course. Get home safe.” His voice cracked. Home should be in the TARDIS with him.

“You too. Before you go,” she said, putting a hand on his arm as he was turning the leave.

He could feel the pain of having to leave her almost bring him to his knees due to feeling her touch again. It had felt so long since he had felt that and he never wanted her to stop.

He would never feel her comforting touch or her hand in his again and he was starting to break

She was rummaging through her bag and took out a blue scarf. TARDIS blue.

“Here,” she said softly as she leaned up on her tip toes and wrapped it around his neck. “I don’t know why but I just bought this. It’s not really my thing and I don’t have anyone else to give it to but there was something in my mind that urged me to buy it. Maybe this was fate,” she chuckled. “There! Looks great!” She grinned, smoothing out the scarf and his breath caught as her fingers grazed the back of his head.

“Thank you, he responded quietly, tears filling his eyes “Truly. Thank you.” He took her hands in his and kissed the back of them.

“You’re very welcome,” she said, just as quietly as him, and blushed once more.

He let go of her hands and took a step back. He swore that he saw disappointment on her face at that.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it for too long as she had thrown her arms tightly around his waist and pressed her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of him in.

He wasn’t sure if his hearts had stopped completely or if they were beating so fast that he couldn’t feel them beating properly anymore.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, taking in the familiar and comforting scent.

The hug ended as quickly as it had started but before he could feel too disappointed, she had placed her hands on his shoulders, almost wrapping her arms around his neck like the scarf was, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

She stepped back and smiled brightly at him

“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” she said as she walked away.

He was frozen.

Did she just-?

Could she-?

No.

She couldn’t remember him.

Could she?

His brain was working faster than normal.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he called after her before he knew was he was doing.

She briefly turned back and waved, that beautiful smile still on her lips, lighting up her whole face.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered, turning the corner as quickly as he could to find the TARDIS before him.

He could feel the old girl humming happily in his head and he smiled at her in return.

The image of his love didn’t leave his mind.

Not even as he noticed Ood Sigma.

Not even as he started to feel the pain of death returning.

Even when the Ood started singing to him and he felt himself burning, he could still see her.

Her smile bright and warm, helping him find peace.

At last.

~ A few streets away ~

“Huh. That was weird,” she said out loud.

Shrugging, she entered a café, still smiling and felt a warmth that travelled deep into her soul.

#doctor who #david tennant #tenth doctor x reader #ten x reader #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor fic #tenth doctor imagine #10th doctor fic #10th doctor imagine #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who fic #doctor who imagine #the doctor fic #the doctor imagine #ten needs a hug #let ten be happy goddamit! #canon compliant #canon compatible #canon complicit #david tennant doctor #david tennant doctor who #david tennant tenth doctor #me #my writing #self indulgent fic

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm finding rankings difficult, there's a lot of middle of the pack action and some serious top contenders

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Dec 2023 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 -  I love how they’re slowly revealing bits of their past to each other. It parallels the slow burn of them falling in love with each other. Knowledge + understanding = affection. I cried during the part with his doubles partner, of course I did. As has been mentioned many times in this blog, I am a sap. Also I’m realizing that there is something particularly clever about this show: Because Day is blind, there must be a ton of physical touch. And physical touch is something that Thai BL does really well. 

(I gotta say, while I ADORE JimmySea in these roles, a small part of me wonders how JoongDunk would have handled these parts.)

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 3 of 10 - Phaya is SO DAMN SMITTEN. It’s great. Have I mentioned recently how glad I am Billy got this role? This was the: “it’s not a date” date ep. 

I gotta say these 2 BLs are neck and neck favorites right now.

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Uh oh. I like it a lot. I think I was always going to because I have a soft spot for TayNew on screen. It is such funny to watch Tay play such a stiff character. I like it. This is very fast paced for a Thai BL I wonder where they’ll take it with this speed, are they’ll following the manga more closely? 

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - Wait, no. Wahl you’re such a problem. The pacing of this is very KBL. I’m not mad about it but it feels odd in Thai. Still enjoying this one the most as my "early in the week" offering.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - The booty call flirting is next level with these two. Like Bed Friends but with less pain. I love that Nail is such needy evil wild child - the story gets all its tension from that.

Baby boy gives off so many danger signals I wouldn't tap that with a 10 ft… pole. Him is a braver queer than I. I do like how the high heat is being used to drive the story. It stands in stark contrast to Playboyy. Which is using high heat to drive, well... piles apparently.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 6 of 10 - I'm enjoying it again, the main couple is getting more BLish. 

Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 3 of 6 - Shin and Peach flirting is very cute. Although they got into that sack swiftly. Guy leaving was contrived and reactions overwrought but okay babies. 

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Now I'm mostly just confused.

Which timeline are we in?

Do they know each other in this one's past or not?

Have they met yet?

Who has which memories of what?

I feel like I’ve been through a lot for the show.

I’m not saying the reunion scene in the theater was worth it, but it was a really spectacular reunion scene. I’m terrified that there’s one more episode. I wish it had ended here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 2 of 12 - I’m just not that into it. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 14 - A new ship has been set afloat, we are now Team #WayKim / #KimWay and if you're not with us, you're against us. Trash watch happening here.

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 5 of 8 - oh look, it’s everybody’s favorite big brother!

That was a kind (and kind of lovely) coming out sequence. KingUea being the worst best Gay Advice Dads is awesome. Mai is SO SWEET. And we end on some good old miscommunication / misinterpretation, so that Jade can behave in an even more unhinged manner next ep. Our brief respite from absurdity has ended. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Fake Love ep 16 of 24 - They cute fake bf but it’s oddly unappealing. I mean most us queers have slept with each others exes, that’s swimming in a small pool, for ya. In my experience, only hets get butt hurt about it. (Hets never use enoug lube, they butt hurt about everything.) So the whole drama just felt confusing to me. Or maybe that's just my experience with swimming in lube? 4/10 whatever... not recommended

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 4 of 14 eps - I’m seriously considering dropping this. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - They cute. Are aquariums now gay? That’s not the definition of fish that I grew up with. 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - I'm suffering from terrible second lead syndrome. Glasses guy is new Best Boy. Also, Rise is trying to earn the Namgoong Award for Best Wingman. 

It Finished But...

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14 eps - completed it's run. Reports are:

It's pretty good horror but not BL. Ending is unresolved.

Given that info and this review here, it's not for me. DNF

It's Airing But...

Behind the Shadows (Korea movie) - a historical I'm interested in (if it's BL) but have no idea how to find.

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if it's safe.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed with ep 1. Been told I shouldn't bother.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until after it completes its run next week.

Next Week Looks Like This

12/14 Dear Kitakyushu (Thai/Japan movie) in theaters in country only, I know nothing about distribution.

Still coming:

12/23 Dead Friend Forever (Thai horror) iQIYI

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED). With the end of the year upon us I'll do an "announced for 2023 but never happened list" soon.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Of course I loved all the little language moments. I am here for the kinkification of phi.

That request for a shirt was v sexy phi+na. Thank you Jimmy.

Last Twilight bringing the pronoun and particle game to play hard.

It was a nice kiss. (Absolute Zero)

This as a perfunctory flirting kiss, I anticipate we still have The Kiss to come.

I love that Phaya's personality seems to be spin doctor, just accuse the boy of doing that you are already doing to him (or want him to do to you).

Boyfriend shirts!

And a meta reference.

The Sign is basically made for me.

(Last week)

#this week in bl #bl updates #Thai BL #Last Twilight #The Sign #my dear gangster oppa #cherry magic #for him the series #absolute zero #middleman's love #My Universe Fake Love

[wroteclassicaly]

The Show

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: You really love putting on a good show for Eddie.

Warnings: Language, Eddie with a slight breeding and daddy kink, NSFW, and masturbation.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A/N: I just came up with this on a whim and I’ve been working on it for a few days. It’s not my best, but I hope some of y’all like it, at least? I have more stuff coming soon! Love y’all, and enjoy!? ;)

~*~

Everything he does has you on the edge of a jagged precipice, body taking hits from all sides, completely engulfed. Today is another normal Indiana day in your supernatural town, but it’s a quiet one. Well, for others anyways… Your brain is loud, screaming on behalf of your body to be satiated. You and your boyfriend Eddie Munson are usually attached at the hip, sans individual activities (whether it be for yourselves or with friends), and today he happens to have band practice.

It doesn’t matter to you, as he’s been prone to having surprise sessions with his gang. After he gave you his half for a shared dinner celebration for getting through another week (thank fuck for pizza), you’d agreed to go straight to his place and chill. Wayne was already gone for the night and you liked to go through Eddie’s things and have fun, so it was a no brainer. With a quick trip to the grocery to grab some beer and sodas, followed by a pizza pick up—you trekked your way to the Munson household with a pep in your step. Eddie had told you to go ahead and eat, but you settled on putting the box into the fridge for later, sliding in a few sodas for you and two beers for your guy.

~*~

The journey down the trailer’s hallway is a short one, amusement lacing your tone as you push open Eddie’s door and are immediately greeted with the wafting scent of this morning’s joint, his old spice, and the musty baseboard heater packing its rickety punch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you purr, stepping towards that delicious guitar hanging from his cluttered mirror. “It’s not your daddy, but I’m here.”

Closing the door behind you, you toss your tattered bag on the bean bag chair you’d bought for the room a few weeks ago, already making a beeline for Eddie’s skull littered bandana on his nightstand. Lifting the object, you tie it around your forehead and sidestep to the full length he’d also recently hung on the wall (per your request). You spin around a few times and purse your lips, blowing the cheesiest kiss in history. “Ah, yes.” You giggle and head to the stereo and mess of tapes shrouding its entirety. You know what’s been putting Eddie in a good mood lately, and what you feed off of as well.

It’s another no-brainer that you select Metallica’s newest release, enjoying it as it floods your eardrums and settles. You remove your coat and shoes, sliding over Eddie’s sheets and onto your tummy, rolling over on your back and sighing in relaxation once your weight feels lighter. You hum along with each guitar riff, thinking back to Eddie’s attempts at each song, how his fingers mimic the movements late at night in his bedroom to get a feel, before he tries to play a chord— it weighs heavily in the recesses of your memory. And it’s just you there with him, watching from your side of the bed, sheets curled around your waist, Eddie in his checkered boxers and tattoos prominent in the low lamp light, snatching the pick from his neck to strum gently over the body of his beloved. Your toes curl in your socks, the visual an embodiment of the purest sin known to mankind.

With Eddie’s smell surrounding you into a familiar housing, an array of dizzying memories pausing your presence, you’re already aware of the throb that tickles your tummy and tags your cunt in a downward spiral. Another easy decision comes in you quickly shedding your bra and jeans, leaving you clad in your t-shirt, socks, and panties. You relax into the bed, fingers reaching to adjust the bandana on your head, eyelids fluttering closed, hands splayed across your stomach, fingers toying with the elastic of your panties. You need to, but you won’t. Not yet…

~*~

10:22 PM stares back at you in bold red letters, shining from the alarm clock stationed on the scuffed nightstand. Indiana winds are rough, scattering Autumn’s first real storm against the entirety of the trailer. You wonder if it’ll still be raining when he comes in, because Eddie’s band soirées can go on until one or two in the morning, so upon hearing the front door creak open (surprisingly) and slam shut seconds later, locks sliding into place and Eddie’s less than graceful footfalls approaching—you set your plan in motion. Flipping onto your side with your back facing his eyeline, you cling to his pillow and stuff the other between your thighs, feigning slumber, a delicious thrumming starting to gallop in your pulse point. His bedroom door rattles on rusted hinges and you hear his breathing hitch, a quiet clicking of his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

You smile to yourself, that high causing your pride to soar at how you can affect him like this. You’re not speaking, residing in your placing, his bandana secured on your head, something you know he’s seen by now. It takes a few more bated breaths and the sounds of his boots and leather jacket hitting the floor, keys being tossed over onto the dresser, and you feel the bed dip beneath his weight. His rings, made cool from outside temperatures, stain against your skin as he stumbles a light brushing touch over your tailbone, fingertips hovering atop the elastic of your panties. His voice is wind bitten, a throaty rasp on the rise. “Hey, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

You can’t take his cologne or the perspiration of his practice lingering—any longer, flipping onto your back, pillow between your thighs forgotten, nuzzling into his hold. He rests a palm on your belly, smirking, knowing you’ve been awake this whole time. His elbow props above your head, fingers dangling to stroke across your forehead, tapping his bandana, noticing his favorite tape playing. “You goin’ through my shit again?” There’s not a trace of malice or irritation, but a fond amusement.

You shrug and let your hand drift to his jugular, knuckles scrubbing over the stubble you find there. When you drink in his face it takes the breath right out of your lungs, sucker socking your guts. He’s gorgeous. His chocolate irises are a thin ring against the contrast of inky pupils, his lips red from the cold, chapped from his last cigarette. Those shaggy locks are windswept, yet soft, and all that remains on his body is the long sleeved ivory sweater, a few holes here and there, and his white wash jeans—your favorite pair he owns, in addition to the black denim.

“Your hands are cold. You’re cold.” Is your response, ignoring his accusation that is always true.

“Guess I need someone to warm me up then, don’t I?” He doesn’t fight off your touches, knees knocking with your own, socked feet poking at your own, using his toes to tickle yours. You giggle like an idiot and kiss the side of his neck, inhaling without shame.

He groans his appreciation, leaning in to kiss you softly, one that conveys his missing you, despite the short hours of separation. You reciprocate, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, releasing. He’s starting to rock into your side, that bulge quickly becoming visible in his tight jeans. On the spit-slit break away, he thumbs your jawline with a fresh calloused thumb from his practice tonight, nose nudging yours. You’re shaking, already prepared to agree with him. “Does my little princess need something?”

“Eddie…” You spread your legs, fucked out enough as it is, forget vocal communication. Taking his wrist, you slide it between your legs, arching, rubbing the sopping wet fabric of your underwear over his palm. “M’ fucking wet, baby.”

Eddie turns onto his side and squeezes over your cunt, licking his way into your mouth for another sloppy kiss. As you part, he tugs on your underwear and you lift your hips. “Let’s take these off, sweetheart?”

Always a question, but never an assumption. Your gentleman. Once your panties hit the foot of the bed and Eddie can really see your soaked pussy, that primal shift slides into place, locking his insides. He stares at you as you watch him. “Yeah? You gonna play with yourself? Touch that pretty little pussy in front of me?”

Your metal head will never pass up the chance to see you pleasuring yourself, letting you set the pace, using him for whatever you have to have at the moment. He kisses your cheek and lingers. “What do you need me to do, baby?”

“Just… watch?” Your pupils have doused your irises of their remaining color, and you’re fading away in the haze of something only Eddie Munson can provide.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart.” Eddie’s sweater goes next and he unbuckles his belt to help alleviate a little pressure, taking you into his arms and curling his ankle over one of yours, helping you keep your legs spread wide open.

He slides his smokes and lighter from his front pocket and lights a stick, a cloud swirling above your head as you lean back and watch it dissipate, fingers greedily taking some of your slick and rubbing it around your swollen clit. You jolt into the friction, whining. Eddie moans in unison. “How does that feel, my princess? Shit, you’re so unbelievably fuckin’ wet. It’s takin’ everything in me not to pull my dick out and pound you into this bed.”

Your fingers immediately slide down and press into your awaiting cunt, that squelch causing an embarrassing sound to pass your lips. Eddie mouths your neck in appreciation, inspiring a continuation. “That’s a good girl. Take those fingers in my cunt.”

His cunt? The hair on your arms stands at attention, goosebumps splattering your flesh. Eddie nods into your skin. “S’ right, little girl. It’s where I cum, where I’m gonna put my baby in you—“ He breaks briefly, lips by the shell of your ear. “And that means it’s mine.”

He leans over momentarily and stubs the cigarette out.

He stops himself after, wanting for you to engage in your solo performance, both of you high off his cue cards. You start fucking yourself faster, thighs tensing, toes curling, your back arching, one hand finding your breast over your t-shirt. Eddie raises you into a slight lift, yanking at the collar until it’s sliding off. “You wanna show daddy how you touch your tits, hmm? What you did to yourself before I touched them?”

The second that your fingers touch your nipple, you bury your face into the curvature of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, crying out. Your fingers curl inside you, nudging that spot that Eddie can find with better ease, but it’s enough to stimulate your oncoming orgasm. You’re drenched in your own arousal, every press in squishing a fresh wave of the translucent cream back out, captivating Eddie. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and pulls hard enough that he tastes copper, resisting his urges to fuck his hand. This is about you right at this moment—hell, for being witness to this private show, it’s about him too.

You cup your breast and roll the globe, twisting, pinching your nipple and scraping your nails over your areola. Eddie lays kisses to your temple and forehead, finally finding it in himself to speak. He knows what you need to get there, that extra push. And he’s more than happy to oblige. “Princess?”

You remove your sweat slick face from your Eddie scented cocoon, barely conscious. “What, Eds?”

He’s smiling proudly, kissing above your top lip. “Can I offer you some service? Perhaps a thumb?”

When you’re frowning, he holds the digit up and you whine so loudly he could cum in his pants from the sound alone. He presses his thumbpad against your clit and circles the swollen flesh with gained expertise, his mouth finding solace by your earlobe. “Atta girl. You gonna cum for me?”

“Jesus, Eddie. Want to.”

“Oh yeah? Come on then, show me how you cum. Remind me.” He presses down harder, bracelet jostled on his arm as the tendons in his wrist flex with his movements. That has you clenching around your fingers, shivering into a climax that has your eyes rolling back in your head and a scream tearing its way free of your diaphragm, battering your lungs on the way up and out.

Eddie’s cock twitches, an ache dragging him by his throat and not relinquishing its powered grip. There’s a wet spot pooling over his crotch and he’s about to burst. He noses you into a devilish kiss full of a sinful nights’ promise, and you’re flooded with an orgasm that leaves you feeling featherlight, soaking into your every pore and blocking off every sense. You can’t speak, unable to even say your boyfriend’s name. It’s a sight to behold, one that Eddie kisses you right through, his palm bumping your wrist bone as you thrust your fingers into your heat, riding out the last part of your steep ride.

Only when you start panting for breath and trembling, fingers sliding out, a mess, does Eddie calm you with his honey-hot tone. “Good girl. You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart.”

You’re shaking and curling close to him, hot breath on his neck. He pets down the expanse of your back, his other hand lifting your fingers to his mouth to admire the webbed shine, his tongue licking the digits clean, moaning around them with an, “Mhm.”

You laugh softly, coming back to yourself, doe eyed and simping for your guy. He grins that familiar grin, placing your hand to rest on his navel, where you scratch at that fluffy happy trail.

“An eternal goddess that uses the sun and moon to do her bidding. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing her cum.”

“You’re cheesy as fuck, baby.” You murmur, hand lifting to take off the bandana.

Eddie halts you. “Leave it? I wanna fuck you while you wear it.”

~*~

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things 4 smut #stranger things 4 fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things

[neonghostlights]

★ A/N: Thank you to @fracturedarkness for being such an amazing friend and reading this for me and making me feel better about my writing. You’re the best.

★ Series Summary: It’s the ‘90s in LA and you and your best friend Eddie have both made it big. The following is a series of Interviews, News Reports and One Shots showing you and Eddie’s story throughout the years.

★ Chapter Summary: Eddie gets interviewed.

★ Warnings: Drug use, hickies, allusion to drinking, cussing, violent outburst. 18+ only, minors DNI.

★ Wordcount: 1.4k

Chapter Seven: What do you think?

Here at Wasted Years news we always like to keep it real and give our readers the truth no matter what. With that being said, this interview is unfiltered so that you can form your own thoughts and opinions on the people that we interview. We here at Wasted Years news stand by our decision of only printing the truth and not watering it down-no matter how many threats we receive from managers, lawyers, and angry rockstars alike.  

We want to say that we have never, in all of our years, had an interview go like this one did. 

Recently, Felicity Cash sat down for a one on one exclusive with lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson, today to see how the life of fame really is. He burst through the scene from out of nowhere and took the industry by storm with his killer guitar skills and raspy vocals. There is not a person on the planet who doesn’t know who Corroded Coffin is, no matter what music genre you prefer. 

In typical rockstar fashion, Eddie Munson arrived late to this interview due to traffic on the interstate. He sauntered in with his manager close behind, dressed in his usual black attire and jewelry. There was smeared make up under his eyes, red lipstick and hickies on his neck, as well as the smell of booze clinging to his clothing. 

The following is the full transcript of the interview:

I just wanted to start this interview off by saying congratulations on your success. We are a little bit crunched for time now so I’m just going to get right into it. Growing up, did you ever see yourself in the position you are in now? 

Not at all. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this a lot in interviews before, but I grew up pretty poor in a trailer park in Indiana. I didn’t have much besides my uncle, my friends, and music to get me through. If you would have told me then how I would be on top of the world now, I don’t think I would believe you. 

Eddie spread his arms and legs out, leaning back in his chair like he was the king, and he was sitting on his throne. He looked down at the people in the room.

And is that how you feel? On top of the world? 

Of course I do. I have everything. Every day is a fucking party. I have women begging to be with me and every man in the world wants to be me. I can’t see how it gets any better than that. 

Okay then. Would you say that music was a big part of your household growing up? 

My-yeah, my mom. She used to sing a lot. Just around the house. She’d sing when doing laundry and the dishes. She had a nice voice and when I was younger I used to think she sang better than the women on the radio. I don’t know. I was really young. I don’t really remember. 

This question seemed to catch Eddie a little off guard. There was a glisten in his eye when he spoke of his mother. You could tell he was reminiscing on some fond memories. 

Sounds like some of that talent got passed down. 

Maybe. I don’t know. 

Speaking of talent, you are considered one of the best guitar players in the world. Have you ever played any other instruments?

I played clarinet in the school band in middle school to get out of gym class. I wasn’t very good at it. If you put a clarinet in front of me today I wouldn’t know what to do with it. 

I don’t think I can imagine you playing the clarinet. I wanted to ask you about one of my favorite songs by you guys. Your most recent single Tell Her is much slower than your normal stuff. Fans are calling it your one and only love song. May I ask who your muse was? Is there someone special we should keep an eye out for?

I’m not fucking answering that. 

Eddie’s manager paused the interview for a moment to whisper something in Eddie’s ear. Some crew members have mentioned seeing his manager hand him a pill of some sort which Eddie took immediately. We are not sure what he said or what was given to Eddie but it didn’t seem to deter him or help with calming him down. 

Let’s get back on track. Earlier you mentioned your uncle. How is he doing these days? Would you say he influenced your career in any way? 

My uncle has basically killed himself trying to raise me and keep me fed. He didn’t have to do that but he did. He doesn’t like talking to me anymore. He thinks I’m a disappointment. I offered to buy him another big old fancy house and he doesn’t even want to live here with me. 

I’m sure he doesn’t think you’re a disappointment, Eddie. I had a question for you and the answer might be obvious. Do you ever get performance anxiety? If you once did, how did you overcome it?

Fuck no. Why would I get anxiety? 

It was just a question. I know it’s something a lot of people in the industry struggle with. How about those friends you mentioned earlier? Are they still by your side?

Yeah. Jeff, Garreth, Grant-they’re all great. They’re my best friends. They were all losers like me too, ya’know? Just a bunch of losers that grew up and got a shit load of money…

Myself and the crew started to notice Mr. Munson dozing off in his seat. His manager, who we now know by the name of Don, had to get Eddie awake by splashing water in his face. Despite his manager's persistent advice, Eddie decided to continue the interview. 

I just want to check before we continue that you are okay, Eddie? If you want we can stop the interview now. 

 Fuck no. I got up and drove all the way down here for this so we’re finishing it. 

Okay. I just want to make it clear we can stop this at any point. 

Fine. 

I just wanted to ask you a few more questions before we let you go for the day. Do you have any advice for any young people who want to be where you are today? 

I would say don’t let anyone hold you back. No one really matters except for yourself. And if you think you can be the new me then think of something else to do because I’m not going anywhere any time soon. 

That might be harmful advice. Don’t you think?

What is this? A damn therapy session? It’s the fucking truth though. Do you not want me to answer your bullshit answers truthfully? 

We noticed that Eddie was not well and his speech was slurring. We made the decision to ask one more question and to cut the interview short. 

Of course we want you to answer truthfully and sorry if it’s coming across that way. I’m sure you’ve read one of our interviews and seen our interview style before. One more question before you go, Eddie. I’ve been wanting to ask you this since you mentioned your friends earlier that there was one friend you left out of your answer. I’ve read in previous interviews of yours that you and a certain actress have been very close. I was wondering how your relationship is with her now and if you are still close with her and her boyfriend Collin-

At this point the once drowsy and uninterested Eddie came to life. It was evident that the question pushed a button. His answer was followed by him jumping out of the chair, clearly angered. 

No! Hell no. You do not get to ask me about her. 

I’m sorry. I don’t have it in my notes not to ask you about that. So, there is drama there? 

The interview then ended abruptly when Eddie Munson decided to pick up the chair he was once sitting in and threw it across the room, nearly hitting a crew member. We decided to end the interview there, and after a brief discussion with his manager, decided not to press charges since there was no injury to anyone on set. 

Eddie Munson was escorted from the property by security with a ban from ever coming back. We wish him the best and hope he finds the help he needs. 

After a lot of thought we decided to continue with publishing this interview to show the public the truth. We will let you form your own opinions. 

-Felicity Cash, Journalist, Wasted Years News

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddiemunson x actress!reader

[love-bugsy]

meet cut(e) | jason todd

the worst thing about love (two) / (one)

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

tw: allusions to character death, depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, i learned my medical terminology from grey's anatomy don't hate me

only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)

You’re awake when he stumbles into your apartment two weeks later. You stare at him owlishly; knees tucked up against your plush, non-indented couch, glass of Merlot in your hand kept carefully away from the carpet you just scrubbed the bloodstains out of. You set it gingerly on your coffee table, half convinced he’s not real.

“I got… a cut.” It seems strange for this masked vigilante - you may or may not have been doing some tipsy research on the hooded hero - to look so sheepish. All six feet of him stooped in your cramped apartment, one hand clutched to his side, that emotionless mask staring straight through you. You get up from your couch wordlessly, walking down the hallway to rummage through your bathroom. 

First aid kit and isopropyl in hand, you return to his awkward stance in the middle of your living room; his gaze intently focused on your overstuffed bookshelf. His attention snaps to you when your sock-clad footsteps meet the edge of the plush rug separating you. From this angle, you can see the stubborn, brown bloodstain that you tried to hide under the leg of your armchair - little marks… stains or rusting memories… You gesture to your couch, and he sits, taking off his jacket.

Yanking a stool over to sit in front of him, you pull up his shirt, brows furrowing at the slice in his side. He’s undressed the cut you stitched up for him before he should have, and you examine it while you clean his most recent knife wound. Your stitches are far from perfect - the scar bulging in some areas - but for such a high tension wound, it’s healed well.

Your eyes flicker up to his blood red mask for a moment, and it occurs to you - distantly - that you should probably be terrified. I mean, seriously. A part of you screams that this is how people get murdered. Another part of you thinks that this is the most vulnerable he ever gets; his shirt off, gritting his teeth through the pain of 91% isopropyl alcohol. 

Another - buried - part of you thinks this seems familiar.

Your gaze darts back down to his chest, lingering unconsciously on the end of the scar that cuts out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes catch on the ugly bruises decorating the tan expanse of his torso, some angry and purple, others a sickly yellow. He clears his throat awkwardly and your cheeks heat, returning your attention to sterilising his wound. Real classy, birdie, ogling a guy whose face you’ve never seen. He breaks the thick silence first, low voice crackling through his modulator.

“How’s it look, doc? ‘m I gonna survive?” You hide a smile beneath your exasperated look, brows knitted. Still, you can’t fully conceal the amused edge in your dry tone.

“You’re not nearly as charming when you’ve been stabbed.” He cocks his mask; unreadable. For a long moment, you think you might have actually offended him, until he huffs out a staticky laugh.

“Slashed, actually.” You scrunch your nose. Pedantic asshole. 

“Look, I’ve had a long day, which wasn’t exactly made better by having to patch up a freak in a super-suit, so just… save the witty ironicism for someone who didn’t have to clean up baby vomit all day.” You can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, mask’s gaze still fixed on your face.

“Ouch, doc, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” A little pause as you meet his gaze briefly, unable to shake the familiarity… the instinctive fondness that warms your chest. His next words seem more guarded. “So, why’re you helping me then?”  Good question. Your focus never falters from the slow concentric circles you’re rubbing around his wound with an alcohol soaked hand towel. 

“I took an oath.” He laughs again and you quash the little spark of pride that hearing it gives you. You swap the towel in your hand for a roll of bandages and a plaster, applying the latter first before starting to wrap his waist.

“My bad, doc, I thought you were helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”

You scrunch your nose, trying to suppress the smile that tugs insistently at your mouth. Reaching for a clip, you secure his bandages and help him pull his shirt down so it doesn’t catch. You get up from the stool, shuffling it out of the way for your future self to move back in front of your kitchen island. Yawning, you stretch your hands above your head, a little noise of relief leaving your mouth when the tension in your shoulders loosens. You pretend not to notice how his mask tilts, lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as your shirt lifts.

He settles backwards, leaning his shoulders over the arm of your couch so that his legs don’t dangle over the edge. You watch as he yanks your throw blanket haphazardly over his torso and crosses his arms over his chest. You’re sure he must be keeping you in his peripheral as you startle out of eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Maybe to save you some dignity. Padding back to the hallway, you make it halfway before pausing, words spilling from your mouth unbidden.

“You can have some coffee, you know.”

“What?” The question comes out slurred, a full night’s worth of adrenaline finally dwindling. It brings back a flash of a near empty coffee pot - last dregs dripping slowly into a blue mug held in lethargic hands. You blink.

“In the morning.” He tilts his mask, and you stumble to elaborate, “When you sneak out. You can have some coffee.” Cautious, you study his reaction, but your vigilante doesn’t move an inch - his mask’s white slits boring holes into you like he’s trying to figure you out. Or waiting for a catch. You think he might trust you more if you give him one.

“You have to wash the mug, though. And the coffee’s old.” If you focus hard enough, you can hear something percolating - the coffee in your makeshift warmer or… the tenuous thread of something like dependency. He shifts on the couch and you suppress a wince at the stress it will put on his injuries.

“I like old coffee,” he hums out blurrily, hushed static of his modulator nearly rendering the words unintelligible. You flinch, turning off the living room light instead of responding.

You’re seventeen, he’s sixteen. You give him shit for being two months younger than you. It’s so late at night you’ll start to call it morning soon, and the two of you sit on opposite sides of a diner counter.

You lean over the counter, arms outstretched, dropping your head into your clasped hands. He reaches over you, pouring out another cup of old, lukewarm coffee. He follows it up with an unholy amount of cream and sugar - just how you like it - nudging it over to you with that wry grin of his.

“Tired, birdie?” You are tired, but not as tired as he is. You think maybe Wayne Enterprises should be funding his college tuition, not this superhero shit. Superhero shit that he never talks about, except. He used to tell you everything. You used to tell him everything.

Because he’s smart. He’s really smart. Smart enough to not risk his life every night. You want to tell him that but you know he doesn’t see it that way. In that mask, he’s infallible. Instead, you hum in agreement, dragging the mug closer and taking a sip. You scowl at the bitterness.

He frowns petulantly, looking at you with tired, amused eyes. “You don’t like my coffee?” You set down your cup, wrinkling your nose at the unexpectedly loud ‘clink’ it makes against the counter.

“You’re so dramatic, blue, only you like day-old coffee.” He gives you a dry look, one that says he’s too tired to mock-argue with you. So instead, you turn on the sink behind the counter, rinsing cutlery to load the dishwasher. You both sit in near silence, broken only by his fingers tapping carefully on the counter and your absent-minded hums. 

~

You spend days agonising over a present as his birthday rapidly approaches, though you know he hates the fuss. You settle on a gunmetal grey lighter, shakily hand engraved with a bluejay. Something to replace his shitty BIC one, with its smudged sharpie lettering that barely spells out ‘JT’. 

Secretly, you look forward to the sardonic comment he'll make about how he thought you disapproved of his cancer sticks. The truth is, you don't think you could stop enabling him.

~

A month out from his birthday, he drops by after patrol with your copy of Wuthering Heights. You ask if he liked it and he says he didn’t. Something, something, overly maudlin. He’s lying. He always gets that little specific crease between his eyebrows when he lies to you.

It feels like all you see lately.

Are the nightmares getting worse?

Lie.

Stayin’ out of trouble?

Lie.

Are we always going to be like this? Am I always going to lose you when you put on that suit?

Lie.

Over and over until you snap, poking a finger straight into the crease and smoothing it out. You tell him you want the truth and he tells you he can’t give it to you. You yell at him for ten hour-long minutes, sweeping angry gestures with your arms. One of them knocks over his half-full mug - blue shards shattering in the slow spill of murky coffee. You wish you remembered what he said to you, but all you remember is watching him leave. The last time he ever did.

You wait two weeks for him to come back, recording apologetic voicemails that he dodges with clipped, sullen phone calls. Then, he stops picking up at all.

His death isn’t reported on the news.

Alfred visits you once after he dies, carrying Jason’s old leather jacket like a sleeping animal that might come alive at any second. You don’t talk - not even when he hands it to you - you don’t know what you would say. You don’t know each other, you have nothing in common, except that you loved the same person once.

Your life shrinks - going through the same mechanical motions for months on end, school, work, home. It feels blasphemous to do anything but stare at the jacket - to lift it from where it hangs on the back of your door, to make it yours instead of his - until, one day, you can’t bear to be distant from him anymore. You put it on, shove your hands in the pockets like he always did, digging around. You find an old hairtie of yours in the inside pocket and a stick of apple pie flavoured lip balm you lent him last winter. 

His lighter is in the front pocket, blue as his pale, dark eyes. Carefully, you place it on your desk, next to the one you meant to gift him. 

Two lighters and you don’t even fucking smoke.

oof okay, this one was a bit of a monster (don't know if it bodes well for this series for me to have struggled with this chapter so much lol) but i hope you guys like it. :) i might have to take a little break over the next month because of my final exams, but rest assured, doc and jay will be back again come november. tysm for reading!

with love, bugsy

#series: the worst thing about love #love-bugsy #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #x reader

[personasintro]

FAQ

Since I’ve been getting same questions all the time, it’s probably for the best I finally made this post!

When do you update?

As it’s stated in my pinned post, I don’t have any schedule — therefore I update whenever I finish the whole process of writing (drafting, writing, editing).

I can’t see your pinned post. Why?

It’s most likely that you have to change your settings first to see mature content. I heard you can do that through browser since app doesn’t have that option yet. This link might be helpful, check it out!

What inspired you to write?

I’ve always had a close relationship with writing but it’s never been that serious. My proper first memory of writing something was when me and my friend wrote stories for each other haha. I decided to write and post my first fanfiction after I read a few of them. It inspired me to try it on my own and here I am. (A very short version hehe)

What’s your favorite story of yours?

It depends on the day, it changes almost every day haha so I guess we’ll never get a proper answer!

What inspired you to write Mutual Help?

I just wanted to write a fake dating au + Jungkook series. It somehow just came together! Nicely I hope hehe!

How many chapter is MH gonna have?

I don’t know unless it’s stated otherwise. It’s hard to give you an approximate amount of chapters. But I’ll inform you either in my author’s note or here under the tag ask: mutual help.

What ending it’s gonna have?

That’s something I don’t want to answer and reveal. I wish to reveal it in the story!

My asks weren’t answered. Why?

It might be the case of multiple reasons.

Tumblr might’ve ate your ask. It’s no secret that sometimes happens (unfortunately).

I don’t feel comfortable answering that particular message/question.

Your question has been just answered recently. I recommend checking tags for each story (ex. ask: mutual help, ask: monachopsis etc…). I understand not everyone wants to catch up with my asks, but please understand I can’t answer the same respective questions over and over again 🥺 I would do nothing else than just answering the same questions every day.

One of the reasons might be because I’m getting many asks daily & it’s impossible for me to answer them all. I really wish I could but unfortunately, that’s not possible 🥺 and for that I apologize! It came to that point where I have to be picky and choose what to answer and what not.

Have you ever wanted to be a professional writer? Is that your goal?

No! This is just a hobby for me 😊

Do you have any fics recommendations?

All my fics recs can be found under the tag “fic rec” 😇

#faq

[blooberrytea]

Connections Pt. 3

Pt: 1 2 3 4

~ Summary: Set in post-revolution Detroit, You've been assigned to the recently developed Android Crimes Division; and it's already off to a rough start.

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: painful slow burn and potentially graphic imagery

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out :sob:

~

These late nights with Connor weren’t unusual. At least, they didn’t used to be. You’d spent countless late nights with him prior to the revolution. In those late nights, many words were exchanged– Plenty of 4 AM confessions, when the exhaustion finally took over and there was too much wine in your system. 

You had one major rule that you swore you’d never break: Don’t fuck your coworkers. 

It wasn’t just your rule, it was Fowler’s too. He practically forbid romantic relationships between officers. Working at the DPD was messy enough, he didn’t need petty arguments or couples unwilling to keep it in their pants interfering with investigations. And you agreed wholeheartedly. 

And with the crime at hand, there was definitely no time for romance. 

You set your laptop on the dining table, muscle-memory taking over as you typed in your passcode. Connor sat beside you in a plush wooden chair, the fabrics embroidered with floral patterns. It was a cute dining set you’d found at a thrift store and taken an immediate liking to. 

“Okay, before I show you this– I’ve only had them for a few days.”

To say you were scared of his reaction was definitely an understatement. Your gut twisted at the thought of him being upset with you. 

Connor gave you a confused look, his head tilt akin to that of a dog. His LED spinning yellow as he processed your words.

“Alright…”

You breathed out a sigh as you pulled up the files from the other night and slid the device over to the android. 

Connor situated the laptop in front of him, eyeing you uneasily for a moment before tapping on the files and opening one of the images. 

You watched his LED change to red as he clicked through the images.

Each one contained a photo of an android mangled or brutally damaged in several ways. Only one image had an android with the same purple stamp as the one you’d found at the docs. 

“Well this… Certainly raises more questions.”

“The file showed up the night before we went to the docks. I tried to get as much information from them as I could. Even running their EXIF data. They’re wiped clean.”

“This has android involvement written all over it for sure. I’m not certain that it’s possible for a human to wipe files like that, unless they’re extremely tech savvy.” 

You gave a half shrug, “Oh, isn’t it odd how only one photo has the purple symbol? It’s almost like our unsub got sloppy.” 

Connor hummed, clicking through the photos again, “Unless it was very much intentional.” 

“They left a note with the images too.”

The android nodded, tabbing out of the photos and opening up the word document. 

“   ‘Even a best iron grows brittle with too much beating’  “

“Oh god, can we just come back to that? I don’t have the brain for it right now.”

Connor let out a soft laugh, tabbing back into the images.

“Have we figured out what this symbol is yet?”

The android glanced to you, “It’s a Labyrinth. There was an android I met, quite friendly with pigeons. The labyrinth was all over his journal and on a wall in his apartment.”  

“The Labyrinth? Like the one that held the Minotaur?”

Connor gave an approving smile, “Are you interested in Greek Mythology?”

You waved him off, rolling your eyes, “I took a course or two in college, that’s all.” 

“For some reason, I doubt that’s where it ends.” 

He was teasing you. You could see the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Okay. Maybe more than two courses. Maybe I took all the courses I could.” You huffed, turning the laptop to you and zooming in on the labyrinth. 

“There really isn’t anything abnormal about it. It’s just purple.” 

“It’s most likely our unsubs signature. I doubt this is the last we’ll see of it.” 

You leaned back in your chair, taking a long sip from your forgotten glass of wine. Caffeine was probably the better option here, but you were wound so tight the string was about to snap. 

“Truly a shame you can’t indulge in the joys of cheap wine.” You hummed.

“The internet tells me that I am not missing much.”

You leaned forward, holding the glass in front of Connor’s face. “Oh boo! Try it.” 

“Try it? Detective, I can’t taste it-”

“I’ll peer pressure you.”

Connor rolled his eyes and took the glass from you, taking a quick tentative sip. 

“It’s very acidic,” he paused.  “And definitely not good for you. It also has a low alcohol content, which insinuates that you’re a ‘lightweight’ based on how little it takes to get you tipsy.” 

You gaped at him, playfully snatching your glass back, “I regret asking.” 

“You insisted.” “Mhm and now I insist that you be quiet.” 

A silence hung in the air between you, the cheeky android suddenly at a loss for words– His LED slowly spinning yellow as his eyes met yours. 

“To be honest, I didn’t expect us to be sharing wine and late night investigations again.” He murmured, his voice softer than before. 

You swallowed harshly and adjusted in your seat, “Well neither did I… Not without Hank, at least. Who’s supposed to make the grumpy comments now?”

Connor’s lip quirked into a smirk, “I’m sure you’ve got it handled.” He replied, his tone teasing. 

You scrunched your nose up at him as you leaned forward, resting your arms on the table.

His hand hesitantly found yours, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Oohh. You’re breaking so many rules right now.” You whispered.

“How scandalous.” He whispered back. 

The tension was so thick you swore you’d be able to slice through it with your metaphorical knife– unspoken emotions heavy between the two of you.

You cleared your throat as you stood, untangling your fingers from Connors. 

“So– Do you think we could talk to your pigeon friend? Maybe he’d have a lead for us?” 

#connor rk800 #connor x reader #dbh #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #fanfic #fem reader #reader insert #x reader #bloo connections

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 2 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon​

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.4k

chapter warnings: IN THE SOOP TAE, swearing, alcohol consumption, feelings?, implied sexual situations (not for oc), that chicken fight game you can play in a pool (definitely not the animal cruelty kind, just want to clarify), bartender jungkook (who is also an absolute MENACE), infidelity, namjoon’s chest

a/n: we’re heading into the thick of things now! thank you to everyone who has shown this series love thus far. and even to those who may be silently reading, i appreciate each and every one of you. these characters have been in my head for years, and it’s so incredible to finally get to share them!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

You’re starting to think you might be a terrible friend.

It's been a week and a half since Maya's art show when Jimin slides into the chair next to you in your office building's cafeteria. You've worked at the same company since graduation but in different departments, so while you don't see each other every day, you occasionally grab lunch together or pop over to each other's desk for a quick chat.

"Hey, stranger," he chirps, setting his food on the table before peering closely at your face. "Almost forgot what you looked like."

You roll your eyes at him. After the incident at the gallery sent your brain into an emotional spiral, you had decided to put some distance between you and Taehyung until you could figure out what the hell this all meant for your friendship. As a result, you hadn't been over to the guys' apartment since then—an unusually long amount of time for you to stay away.

Jimin frowns at your lack of a response, leaning forward until you look at him. "You avoiding us?"

"No," you say simply, busying yourself by taking a bite of your lunch.

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Are you avoiding Tae?"

You chew slowly, carefully considering your words before settling on, "Why would I be?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking. For a friend of course." Jimin shrugs. "He mentioned that you haven't really been talking to him—asked if I knew why. Plus, you missed two Sunday meal preps."

"I've missed them before—"

"Two!"

You purse your lips, guilt creeping in at the thought of Taehyung spending two nights cooking alone as you broke your tradition. "You can tell him what I told him—I've been busy."

Jimin frowns again, watching you stare at the table as you chew another bite. "Is something going on? Did he say something to you?"

"About what?" you ask, eyes snapping up to his.

"I..." he hesitates, suddenly uneasy. "I don't know. I just know that I've never seen you two like this."

"Like what?"

"Apart."

You give a dry laugh, more out of nerves than anything. "Chim, we're not literally attached at the hip, you know? We have our own lives."

"Yah, you know that's not what I mean." He sighs. "I can just tell he's missing you, that's all.”

If getting called out on missing meal prep nights made you feel guilty, then this is the true slap to the face. Taehyung may be mild and introspective by nature—a quiet force in his own right—but he holds close those who are dear to him, and you know he can't be pleased with your recent silence.

Still, any guilt tingling through your veins inevitably winds up outweighed by the memory of the flash of heartbreak that had crossed his face at the party, reinforcing your need for space.

"Well we'll see each other in a couple days," you murmur, a tiny burst of excitement breaking into your mind at the thought of your upcoming vacation.

Property of Jungkook's family, the beach house rarely used by his parents had become a staple for your friend group over the years as the go-to site for New Year’s parties and summer holidays. When Hoseok and Sunny had lamented the astronomical cost of the wedding and how they were going to opt out of having bachelor and bachelorette parties to help save money, Jungkook had offered up the house to do a combined pre-wedding bash to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

Jimin taps his fingers on the table, looking at you quietly before accepting the change in topic. "It should be fun. Jace coming?"

"No, he has that conference."

"Damn," Jimin huffs. "Does that guy ever get a day off?"

"Guess he had to afford the ring somehow," you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up on impulse.

Jimin smiles back. "And here I was, wishfully thinking we might get a front row seat to a proposal this weekend."

“Not his vibe.” You scrunch your nose. “He never went to the house as frequently as everyone else. And I don’t know if he’d want a bunch of other people around. At least not people who know us.”

“Aww, why not?” Jimin whines. “We could all celebrate with you! And Maya could take pictures!”

“Or Tae.”

“Or—yeah, or Tae.”

You pretend not to have noticed his hesitation or the way he startled at that, and certainly not the way it made your pulse jump. Has everyone really been seeing this except you?

“Regardless,” you say, trying to ignore the sudden nausea rolling in your stomach, “I don’t think he’ll do it in front of you guys. And if he was going to ask Maya to take pictures, I think he would’ve done so by now if he was going to propose soon.”

When you had told Maya about the ring the afternoon after the gallery opening, she’d seemed genuinely surprised, clapping her hands together and immediately calling dibs on being maid of honor.

Go figure.

“Ah, well,” Jimin sighs. “There’s always the planning to help with.” He holds up a hand and begins ticking off his fingers. “And the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, rehersal dinner, eventual baby shower—“

“Woah, Park, getting a little ahead of yourself now, no?”

“Y/N, this is an exciting time for you! I’m excited for you!” He slurps down a mouthful of his noodle bowl. “And maybe I’m living a little vicariously through you. Maybe. A little.”

“Geez, Kook’s right, you are in a drought.”

“Oh, great. You too now?”

You giggle as he dramatically presses a hand to his forehead, food puffing out his cheeks.

“But really though,” he says, leaning forward again with concern in his eyes, “you are excited, right? After you told us about the ring, you seemed a bit off.”

Shit.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you get drunk that fast in a while.”

“I was happy for Maya and Tae.”

“And yourself?”

“Yeah, and myself.”

Jimin stares at you for a long few seconds, clearly not buying what you’re selling. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He leans back in his chair in a way that says he’s letting you off the hook. “But you’d better figure out this weird thing with Tae before he corners you at the house. Good luck avoiding him then.”

Okay, maybe not entirely off the hook.

The rest of the short work week passes in a blink, and you quickly find yourself packing for your trip on Wednesday night, the plan being to leave Thursday morning and stay until Monday. Jace fiddles with his phone on the bed, occasionally glancing up to watch you flit around the room as you fill your travel bag with an excessive amount of clothes.

"Are you leaving for five days or a month?" he teases as you cram ten pairs of underwear into a side pocket.

"I like to keep my options open," you say. "Never know what could happen with the weather."

"Or your bladder, apparently."

"Hey, it's gonna be hot. I'll have to hydrate."

He laughs at that before his eyes settle on you with a warmth that has you shifting under his gaze.

“What?”

“I just love you, you know?” he hums.

Warmth blooms in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“It’s going to suck being apart.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I wish you could’ve come.”

At your words, you feel like you can literally see a light bulb turn on in his head as his expression brightens with an idea. “Do you want to take my jacket?”

He can only mean one jacket. You’d found it together a month after you started dating at a thrift shop downtown, and it’s been his signature piece of clothing ever since. Jace had pulled the bomber jacket and its bright green satin off the rack, and your first reaction had been to laugh. The thing practically glowed.

“You’ll look like a traffic light,” you’d giggled.

But Jace was already pulling the shimmering material over his shoulders. “Consider this your green light to jump my bones whenever you want,” he’d said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“I’d feel bad separating you from it, to be honest,” you say in the present. “I’m pretty sure a piece of your soul is tied to that jacket by now.”

He pouts. “You’ll be carrying a piece of my heart already; what’s a piece of my soul?”

“Smooth.” You poke at your bag. “I may not have any extra room in here though.”

“Fair enough, but if you change your mind, the offer still stands. What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Eleven. Should get us there a little before lunch."

"Us?" He pauses, setting down his phone. "You're driving with Tae?"

"No, Maya." A tinge of panic drops into your chest at the mention of Taehyung's name. Does he know? "Why?"

Jace shrugs, nonchalant. "No reason, just wondering. And you're back Monday?"

"Mhm, by dinnertime." You settle on the bed next to him, trailing your fingers along his forearm. "Do you want to maybe do a date night after work that day?"

He sighs deeply, tilting his head back against the headboard. "We have our conference debrief Monday, so who knows when I'll get home." You nod in understanding, but the disappointment must show on your face because then Jace is leaning forward to take your hand in his. "I'll tell you what, I know work has been keeping me from you lately, so let me make up for it.”

The pads of his fingers lightly dance along your jaw. "Fancy date night next Saturday? That upscale Italian place on Fifth that you love so much? I can make a reservation."

Your heart pounds as you will your eyes not to subconsciously drift to his desk, and you put on your best poker face. "It's a date."

The drive proves an easy one for you and Maya as sunny weather and a surprising lack of traffic has you at the house in under an hour. As you drive through the iron gates, a small mansion, white and pristine, spreads itself out before you, and you're once again reminded of just how wealthy a family Jungkook comes from.

You had grown up very well-off, sure, but Jungkook’s parents and their vast real estate portfolio are on an entirely different level of rich. And while your parents had immediately cut you off right after you left for college, Jungkook’s parents continue to supplement his bartending income with a monthly allowance to this day.

The word “spoiled” is a bit of an understatement when it comes to your friend.

"You sure you don't want anything more serious with Kook?" you tease Maya, who sits in the passenger seat with her dark sunglasses over her eyes. "All this could be yours."

"As if," she scoffs. "Not worth it to have to put up with his ass for the rest of eternity."

You key in the code for the front door and are greeted by a multitude of voices, the cavernous open-concept kitchen/dining room/living room only serving to amplify those inside. Hoseok and Sunny are quick to reel you in, introducing you to Sunny's three bridesmaid friends, Hoseok's brother (who you’ve met a few times before), and—

"Joonie!"

Namjoon swoops in to pull you into a bear hug while lamenting how long it's been since he last saw you. Hoseok's best friend since freshman year of college, the former pre-med major had been a core member of your group of friends, but med school combined with helping to manage his family's restaurant means that you rarely see him nowadays in spite of him sharing an apartment with Hoseok and Sunny.

"How's the roomie search going?" you ask as Namjoon pulls Maya into an equally crushing hug.

"Mmph, still no luck. Though I may have an old friend from grade school moving into the city soon, so we'll see if that pans out." He throws a quirked brow at Hoseok. "But I haven't entirely given up on convincing these two to reconsider breaking up the dream team."

"Ah, Joon, you really wanna live with two newlyweds that badly?" Hoseok whines. "Just think about it for two seconds. Really think about it."

Namjoon clicks his tongue, cheeks now tinged with a dusting of pink. "Okay, maybe you have a point."

The light mingling continues as everyone settles in, and you find yourself taking stock of the kitchen and planning a grocery run with Sunny's friends when the last three members of your party come spilling through the door. Your companions head back to the entrance for introductions, but you stay firmly put, mindlessly busying yourself with plates and silverware, nerves alight at the thought of who just entered the house.

Voices still echoing from the living room, it's only a minute or so later when you sense the quiet presence of someone stepping into the kitchen, and, ever in sync, you don't need to turn around to know who.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You turn on instinct, your body responding to his voice before your brain can remind you of your avoidance. Taehyung leans against the kitchen island in a long-sleeved yellow shirt, baseball cap turned backwards on his head. Chin slightly tilted towards his chest, he's gazing at you from under his lashes, and you recognize it as nerves. "I, um, I'm about to go on a grocery run."

"I can come with?" he offers. "Keep you company, carry the heavy stuff—"

"I made plans to go with Sunny's friends, actually."

"Oh, okay." His shoulders drop ever so slightly, and you glance away at the shoreline crashing in the distance, anywhere but at your best friend looking like a kicked puppy in front of you because of your own cowardice.

"Listen, Y/N—"

"Later?" You quickly interrupt, not mentally prepared to have this conversation right now, especially with Jimin casting you looks from where he stands in the living room.

Taehyung licks his lips, seeming to scan your face for something before he swallows down words on the tip of his tongue, grimacing as if they're nails. "Yeah, okay. Later."

When you said later, you truly meant it. While you and Sunny’s friends (Taehyung thinks their names were Iseul, Hana, and Yumi) run out for groceries, the rest of the group bustles around the house, splitting up rooms, settling in, and eventually migrating to the pool. Taehyung tries to catch you again when you return, but you hurry past him with a box of liquor, mumbling something about helping Jungkook set up the bar out back. Sunny’s friends dump the rest of the groceries on the kitchen island before scurrying away to the back deck with everyone else, which is how Taehyung winds up unpacking the bags.

Alone.

Nice.

He’s pushing a box of ramyeon on top of the fridge when he hears the back door click and slide open behind him.

“Need a hand?”

Namjoon walks into the kitchen, fingers poking at one of the bags.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

They unload the groceries in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Namjoon says, “So how have things been?”

Taehyung shrugs a shoulder. “Ah, you know, the usual. You?”

“Same.”

Quiet takes over again, and Taehyung thinks the conversation has ended before it even really started as he moves to place a bottle of orange juice into the fridge. But then—

“I heard about Y/N and Jace.”

Taehyung freezes mid-motion, the cool air from the open fridge slipping out and chilling his skin. When he looks up at Namjoon, the other man is studying him with a calm intensity that raises goosebumps along his arms. It’s not his first time being under Namjoon’s microscope, but he’ll never get used to the feeling of being simultaneously picked apart and comforted. Because while his friend may exude a quiet warmth, he always gives the sense that there’s also a million calculations going on under the surface at any given time.

It’s easy to let one’s guard down around Namjoon.

With that in mind, Taehyung opts for the simplest answer, slowly closing the refrigerator and saying, “Yeah?”

Namjoon nods, equally slow. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great,” Taehyung says, breaking the eye contact and closing the refrigerator to reach for another bag. “She’s always wanted this. And Jace is…” He finds himself rooting around his brain trying to find a descriptor for the guy. For someone who he’s known for several years, it’s bizarre how he can’t find a single word for him.

Weird.

“She’s happy with him,” is what he eventually comes out with.

“But is he right for her?” Namjoon presses.

“You think he’s not?”

Namjoon reaches up to put a few bags of snacks into a cupboard. “I don’t know. It’s like he was always around in college, but he was never truly present, you know?”

“That’s a Joon-ism if I’ve ever heard one.”

Namjoon smiles, a dimple dotting his cheek. “You don’t get what I mean?”

“No, I do. But that’s not important, is it? It doesn’t matter if we think he’s the right guy; it matters if she thinks he’s the right guy. And if she does, then I support it. It’s not my place to do anything else.”

The words settle in the room, and he means every one.

“You know, I’ve always admired the two of you,” Namjoon says after a moment. “The way you care for each other is…extraordinary, to say the very least.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Taehyung blush. “Well, we only had each other growing up, you know? She saved my life when we were kids. I truly believe that.”

“I know, you’ve said that before. She gave you a way out.”

“A way out, a purpose, a friend.” He crumples a plastic bag into his hand. “She chose me when no one else did. Not even my own family.”

And you had, when no one else seemed to want anything to do with him, there you were, hanging by his side like his own personal guardian angel.

“She’s the most incredible person I know, and I would just…do anything for her.”

“Including watch her marry him, apparently.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says. Unhesitating. “If that’s what she wants.”

“And where does that leave you?”

Taehyung has nothing to answer that with—his worst fear laid bare in front of him. It’s the thought that keeps him up at night, plagues the very marrow of his bones every time someone mentions that tiny velvet box. Your childhood friendship may have allowed you to grow together as one through the years, but just as trees grow apart as they grow upwards, it feels like only a matter of time before your branches no longer intertwine, drawn apart by jobs and relationships, life and love.

How long until you’ve outgrown him? How long until you’ve started your own family and left him behind?

He has no right to you, and he knows that. The last thing he would ever want to do is hold you back, but perhaps a part of him thought he’d have more time. Now, with you suddenly not talking to him for reasons he can’t even begin to grasp, he feels like he may have already lost you.

Namjoon puts him out of his misery. “Do you know what Plutarch said about friendship?”

“Who?”

“I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.”

Taehyung stares, stunned and confused. Because Namjoon couldn’t possibly be suggesting…

“You’re saying I should tell her to say no to him?”

“I’m saying it’s possible to be selfless to a fault.”

It doesn’t sound terribly different in Taehyung’s mind, but he tries to consider Namjoon’s words regardless. Your happiness has always been his utmost priority, but could his unconditional support really be doing more harm than good? He likes to believe that if he felt your well-being were truly at risk, he would speak up.

Then again, with the way his friend is looking at him, he also can’t help but feel like he’s missing something important.

“What are you trying to specialize in again?” he asks, deflecting.

“Psychiatry.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon chuckles. “It’ll all work out in the end.” He winks, moving to rejoin your friends outside. “Life finds a way.”

You’ve managed to evade Taehyung all day, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t felt his eyes on you.

The early hours had been easy, your supermarket run giving you an (albeit weak) excuse to put some physical distance between the two of you. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain, especially after your group gathered together to decide what to do tonight.

When you’d entered the living room, Taehyung had already been seated at the end of the couch, a free spot open on his left; with the way that his hand had been resting, it was almost as if he was saving it for you. Instead, you’d chosen an armchair diagonally across from him, squirming more and more the longer he looked at you. Throughout the entire conversation, as the group decided upon going to the beach bar down the street to kick off your first night at the house, you don’t think his eyes left you even once.

You’re being a coward, and you know it.

Now, you sit at the vanity in your room, struggling with your necklace and just about ready to give up on the damn thing so you don’t hold everyone else up. The clasp doesn't want to cooperate, your fingers can't seem to get purchase on the thin metal, and really, who are you trying to look good for anyway?

Right as you prepare to abandon the cause and stuff the offending item back in your bag, someone knocks on the door and you yell for them to come in.

Taehyung saunters into the room, now wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, his hair pushed back in such a way that you can tell he's been running his hands through it. His eyes skim your figure as he softly closes the door behind him, and you feel your pulse double in pace. "Need help?"

"It's okay—I, um—" but before you can stutter out an excuse, he's already taking the thin chain from your hands, and all you can do is try not to focus on how his fingers feel brushing the back of your neck.

"There. Easy peasy." He eyes you up and down again before clearing his throat. "Looks good on you."

"I, uh, thanks." Your voice is practically a whisper, and you busy yourself with your make-up case...which may have been an adequate distraction if not for the fact that you've already done your make-up and so your hands are only left to wander aimlessly. Glancing up, you catch Taehyung gazing at you over your shoulder in the mirror, and the intensity of his stare has you dropping the case back to the table. "What?"

"You're avoiding me." He states it as a fact, eyes unwavering, and you turn to face him.

"I'm not."

"You are." He searches your face as if to find the answer written there in big, bold letters. "Why?"

A tiny spider makes its way across the corner of the ceiling, and you find yourself staring at it as you chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

"Hey," Taehyung murmurs, pulling your attention back to him. "It's me, yeah? We don't keep secrets."

But still you hesitate. "You won't get mad?"

He reaches out to hook his pinky with yours. "Of course not."

Letting out a shaky breath, you ask, "Are you okay with Jace proposing?" The question hangs between you for a second, the air thickening with apprehension.

His eyebrows press together, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, it's just..." You pause to collect your thoughts. "When I told you about the ring at the gallery opening, there was a second where you appeared to be…bothered."

"Ahh, well..." He pushes his hands through his hair, mulling over his next words. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Please."

"I know we're friendly, but I've just never been his biggest fan, even in college." Taehyung shrugs. "You know I want the best for you, and he seems like a good guy and all, I just—I don't know." Another run of his hand through his hair. "I just get a weird vibe from him sometimes."

You smirk at that. "A weird vibe?"

"Yeah, like," he licks his lips, still fidgeting. "I can't put my finger on anything in particular, just something about him rubs me the wrong way sometimes." You open your mouth to respond and he quickly cuts in, "But I will 100% support you! If he's who you want and he makes you happy and treats you well, then I will cheer you on the whole way. Hell, I'll even walk you down the aisle if you want me to." That draws a small laugh from you, and he smiles. "If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. That's all I care about."

You take in his beaming figure and are reminded of how thankful you are to have this man in your life. But the voice in the back of your head is still not entirely placated and before you can stop yourself, you're blurting, "And that's really it?"

Taehyung's smile fades, lips slowly turning downward into a frown, and you silently curse yourself. After seventeen years of friendship, the man can practically read your mind and you know it. "What aren't you telling me?"

You sigh. Seems like there's no way getting around it at this point, and so you decide you may as well dive in. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you quietly ask, "You don’t…have feelings for me?”

Taehyung's eyes blow wide, and you're surprised his jaw isn't touching the floor. After several moments of stunned silence, he lets out a strangled, "What?"

"No, I just—" you stutter. "Look, someone said you did, and after you seemed upset about Jace proposing, I thought maybe..."

He's deeply scowling now, the crease back between his eyebrows, and a flare of his nostrils indicates that he's pissed. "Who?" he asks.

"Who what?"

"Who said that?"

"Tae—"

"No, Y/N, if people want to talk about me behind my back and screw with my private life, I have a right to know who."

He stares you down until you purse your lips and break. "Maya."

"Fucking hell," he says under his breath as he rubs at the lines in his forehead, and his lack of a denial has your head spinning.

"So it's true?"

"Y/N—"

"You haven't answered the question—"

"No!" He almost shouts it. "I don't."

"Because if you did have feelings for me, you could tell me. No secrets, right?"

He lets out a huff and stuffs his hands in his pockets, leveling his gaze back at you. "No," he says. Firmly. Definitively. "No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. But something in your blood continues to tingle.

"Okay."

And really? You should've known. Should've trusted to get the truth from him and not secondhand from your friends who, though they mean well, have been known to meddle and gossip (and sure, maybe that includes yourself at times).

The heightened tension has dissipated from the room, but the two of you are still left looking awkwardly at each other. After a stretch of time, Taehyung shifts on his feet and asks, "Y/N, are we good?"

There's a hint of fear in his eyes, and it has any residual worry you're feeling melting away. This is still Tae. Your Tae.

"Of course we are." You link your pinky with his. "Always."

The beach bar is relatively crowded for a Thursday night, the warm summer air and mix of bodies driving your group to disperse around the venue. Some migrate towards the live band, while others choose to mingle (and flirt) with the other patrons.

Noticing the way one guy at the bar has been eyeing you since you got here, Taehyung sticks close to your side, just in case. That is, until Namjoon finds his way back to the two of you looking harried, drawing you in so he can gently rest his hands on your elbows.

“Y/N, can I borrow you?” His light smile and the way he leans in close are clearly meant to project the image of intimacy, but his eyes are desperately screaming for help. “There’s an intoxicated woman who seems determined to motorboat me, and I don’t know where Maya is. I need a fake girlfriend.”

You pretend to swoon. “Joonie, with a chest like that, I’d be honored to be your fake girlfriend.”

Something aches behind Taehyung’s ribs as he watches you walk away on Namjoon’s arm when he just got you talking to him again. Still, a bit of breathing room is probably for the best. His conversation with you has him rattled; he doesn’t think his pulse has fully returned to normal since you suggested he has feelings for you. At the very least, he was able to smooth things out, which has noticeably eased the weight he’s been carrying the past couple of weeks.

But speaking of your conversation, you being summoned away by Namjoon gives him the opportunity to address the other elephant in the room.

He scans the crowd, determinedly ignoring the woman who’s been trying to catch his eye from a few tables over. (She pouts in his peripheral vision, shifting the neckline of her shirt to sit lower on her chest.) Finally spotting his target making her way back from the bathroom, he quickly moves to intercept her before she can join you and Namjoon at the bar.

Maya startles as he tugs lightly on her arm, leading her to a quieter spot towards the edge of the beach before abruptly spinning to face her.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" she quirks an eyebrow as if in askance but her overall countenance says that she knows exactly what this conversation is going to be about.

"You know what."

"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it."

Taehyung takes a deep breath. He loves Maya like a sister, but that sibling relationship means that she often gets under his skin like one, too. "You told Y/N that I'm in love with her?"

Her other eyebrow joins the first one in climbing her forehead. "Are you?"

"No."

Maya scoffs. "I'm going to give you another chance to say that, but try to sound like you actually believe it this time."

"You had no right—"

"So you're not denying it now?"

"I said no."

"Okay, that time was better, but it could still use some work—"

"Maya, fuck!" He scrubs a hand over his face. "Don't do this."

"She needs to know! What did you tell her?"

“That I don’t—“

“I thought you two didn’t lie to each other.”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re full of shit, and you know it.”

He’d swear he can feel his eyelid twitch. Maya always seems to know which buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. "She's getting married, for fuck's sake!"

"No, she has a boyfriend with a ring box in his drawer."

"Same difference."

"It's not."

"It is."

"She hasn't said yes yet, Tae."

He goes quiet at that. It’s painfully reminiscent of his conversation with Namjoon, and yet he’s equally at a loss. What are they honestly expecting him to do here? What could he possibly do that would accomplish anything other than drive you away, and rightfully so?

Maya’s gaze rakes over his face, scrutinizing him with a mixture of frustration and pity. "Tell me it isn't killing you."

Taehyung licks his lips, looking out across the bar until he finds where you’re standing with Namjoon. The latter says something that makes you laugh, and his stomach flips watching the way your eyes twinkle with mirth as you toss your head back, hair spilling over your shoulders.

You’re radiant. Stunning.

"She's happy," he finally croaks, but it comes out like he's physically straining to push out the words. "Leave it the fuck alone."

“Hey.”

You find Taehyung in the kitchen bright and early the next morning, already rummaging around and littering the counters with bowls and ingredients. The soft morning light drenches him in a golden glow, highlighting his honey skin, the slope of his nose, the long lines of his fingers as he works.

“Hey!” The smile he gives you is light and easy, the awkwardness between you having evaporated as easy as steam after your discussion last night. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

You jump in, immediately falling into rhythm with the way he maneuvers around the kitchen. God, you’ve missed this. It may have only been a few weeks, but cooking with Taehyung is one of your life’s greatest joys, and after missing two of your meal prep nights, it feels like a part of you has come home. There’s no doubt that you’re breathing a little easier today with the air cleared between you.

And honestly, how stupid to let a single comment from Maya drive a wedge between the two of you. You’ve known Taehyung practically your whole life. If he did have feelings for you, you would’ve figured it out by now.

Surely, he would’ve told you.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even notice that Taehyung is sneaking up on you until he’s already smeared a streak of waffle batter across your cheek.

“Augh, Tae!”

“What?” He quickly backpedals out of your reach, anticipating retaliation, but grinning widely. “You were clearly somewhere else. Had to bring you back to me somehow.”

A while later, as Taehyung sets out the platters of waffles, fruit, and eggs, you begin making the rounds to let everyone know that breakfast is ready. Sunny and her friends thank you from where they’re hanging out on the back deck and say that they’ll be in soon. Moving back into the hallway, you greet Hoseok and his brother, Jiho, as they pass you; Hoseok gives you an appreciative high five when you tell them about the food. Namjoon and Jimin have their door wide open, so you only need to poke your head in, Jimin immediately taking off down the hall at the mention of waffles.

When you get to Taehyung and Jungkook’s door, it’s closed, a series of muffled groans coming from inside. Unhesitating, you knock hard, and the groaning stops, followed by a curse and the sound of shuffling before Jungkook is opening the door halfway, blocking your view of the room. Clad in only a pair of gray joggers, a light sheen of sweat coats his bare chest, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?”

“Tae and I made breakfast. You’re welcome to join.” You nod your chin at the area behind him. “Unless, you know, you have better things to do.”

Jungkook smirks, amused. “Alright, I’ll be out in a minute.”

He moves to close the door, but you manage to stick a foot out to block him.

“Maya, you too!”

There’s a moment of silence as you stand there, Jungkook looking as smug as ever, before a voice sounds from inside the room.

“Okay!”

It's a cloudless, sunny day so your group heads down to the beach after breakfast. Jungkook's beach house sits down the street, away from the center of town and tourist areas, which allows you a relatively private, uncrowded stretch of sand. The air is sticky with humidity, only mitigated by the breeze coming off the water. It's an oddly soothing combination of hot and cool that has you pulling in deep breaths of the salty air. You could stay out here forever.

"This is paradise," Hana says, verbalizing your own thoughts. "I wish I could live here."

You're sitting on your towel in the sand helping Maya sunscreen her back, but you don't miss the cocky grin on Jungkook's face.

"Well, pretty ladies like you are always welcome here."

Maya's shoulders tense up under your hands, and you're tempted to say something snarky in her defense before Sunny beats you there.

"Not my friends, Kook!"

Hana giggles, Jungkook feigns innocence, and you think that's that, stretching out on your towel to sunbathe. But an hour later, Taehyung is plopping down next to you in the sand.

"I need your help."

You slide your sunglasses to the top of your head so you can look at him better. "Sunny trying to set you up with someone again?"

He blushes. "No, Kook wants to have a chicken fight."

You push your glasses back down your face. "No."

Taehyung is quick, reaching over to pull the shades off your eyes entirely.

“Tae!”

“Look,” he murmurs, leaning in close. “Normally I’d blow him off, but he’s pairing up with Hana, and Maya actually seems kind of bothered.”

You peek over his shoulder to where Maya is now chatting with Jimin, throwing furtive glances at Jungkook and Hana flirting by the water’s edge.

“I know they’re not exclusive,” Taehyung continues, “but you have to admit Kook is being a bit of a dick, and I kind of want to show him up.”

You’re still hesitant, lips turning downwards, and so he presses closer, until all you can see are big brown eyes.

“Please? For me?”

The past two weeks creep into your mind, two weeks of intentionally avoiding him—hurting him—due to your own idiocy, and that’s when you cave. You owe him.

“Okay, fine.”

You follow Taehyung down to the shoreline, where Jungkook grins widely at your approach and claps his hands together.

"A challenger!"

You shake your head at his antics and move to tie your hair up and away from your face. "Do we have any stakes?"

Jungkook strikes a dramatic pose: calf-deep in water, hands on hips, six-pack abs already glistening as he pouts his lips in thought.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he says, "Loser cooks dinner tomorrow."

Well, that's much tamer than you expected. "Just dinner? No, 'loser has to go skinny dipping' or anything like that?"

His mouth forms into a tiny "o", eyes wide with excitement. "Do you...want that?"

"No," you're quick to clarify. "It just doesn't seem like much of a punishment for us."

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. "I like your food."

"Okay, but what if we win?" Taehyung asks, nodding from your right.

The cocky grin is back. "You won't."

Seagulls circle above like curious spectators to your game as you get into position. Taehyung squats in the surf so you can scale his back, sliding your legs over his tanned shoulders. He wraps his arms and hands tightly around your knees to secure you as he walks deeper into the ocean until the water is up to his waist. Roughly ten feet across from you, Jungkook and Hana have assumed a similar stance, and you're not sure if it's the waves rolling in or if Jungkook is actively bouncing on his heels.

"Jimin, wanna count us off?" he shouts.

From his spot on the beach, you see Jimin cup his hands around his mouth.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The men charge at each other through the water until you and Hana collide, grappling at each other's arms. In spite of a tiny build, she's surprisingly strong and sturdy, and you already have to adjust yourself on top of Taehyung, who likewise rearranges his grip on your legs.

"You good?" he grunts from under you, and you assure him you're fine.

You change your tactic, moving to push at her shoulders and send her backwards, but Jungkook shifts his legs to keep the two of them balanced. This gives Hana the chance to bump you with an elbow, and Taehyung likewise has to tighten his hold on you again to keep you steady.

This back-and-forth goes on for a short while, your friends now cheering from the sidelines, until Jungkook pushes forward and Hana collides with you again. This time, Taehyung adjusts to the hit by sliding his hands upwards, his long fingers skating up the soft inner flesh of your thighs and digging in.

A flash of heat rushes straight to your belly.

The sensation forcefully jolts your entire body and sends both you and Taehyung tumbling into the water. You kick around trying to find your footing before he pulls you up, sopping wet and spluttering as Jungkook and Hana celebrate their victory with raised arms and whoops.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Hell if you know. You’d swear you can still feel the pads of his fingers on your legs, and so you merely blink at him with a shake of your head.

A biological reaction, you tell yourself, as you wade your way back to dry land. Nothing more.

You will your body to get a grip as you settle back down on your towel. You love Jace, you’re taken, and you and Taehyung have just reestablished the platonic nature of your friendship. Letting his touch have that kind of effect on you is nothing short of wildly inappropriate on two counts.

Trying to shake the shame poking at your brain, you angle yourself towards the waves and snap a quick selfie to send off to your boyfriend.

You [2:05pm]: miss you so much, wish you were here <3

It’s not long before your phone chimes with a reply, and you open the message to see a picture of Jace taken at a similar angle. He stands in a sea of businessmen and conference booths, suit crisp and hair neatly combed. The smile he wears is bright, eyes crinkling in the way you love so much and setting of a flurry of butterflies in your belly.

J <3 [2:07pm]: i’d say i wish you were here but i wouldn’t wish this place on my worst enemy let alone my favorite girl lol

J <3 [2:07pm]: i miss you too, beautiful :(

By the time the sun starts its descent, you’ve all moved to the pool on the expansive back deck, Jungkook immediately hopping behind the outdoor bar to make drinks.

“You know,” you say from your perch atop one of the stools, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can match your enthusiasm for your job.”

He smiles, rattling a cocktail shaker. “It gets me booze and ladies. What more could I ask for?”

Yumi soon joins you at the bar top to ask Jungkook for a margarita, and is quick to strike up a conversation with you. Unsurprisingly for one of Sunny’s friends, she’s incredibly nice, and you learn she works as a hairdresser in the city.

“I’ll have to check out your salon!” you say. “I’ve been meaning to get a trim.”

She claps her hands together eagerly. “If you want to give me your number, I can text you the address!”

As you’re putting your contact information into her phone, she looks at you thoughtfully and adds, “Not to sound like I have an ulterior motive, but Sunny also mentioned that you’re going to be getting married soon, too?”

Heat creeps into your cheeks. “Ah, yeah, nothing official yet. But, you know, it seems like it’s coming.”

“Exciting!” she declares. “Just figured I’d let you know that I do weddings, too, in that case. And I know we’ve just met, but I’d still give you the friends discount. Sunny’s friends are my friends, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s so sweet of you. I’ll definitely give you a call to talk about it once we’re actually planning.”

“That sounds gre—“

“Sorry to interrupt.” Taehyung wanders up to where you sit, handing you a plate of steaming beef and cucumber salad. “Hoseok and Jimin got the first round of meats done. I knew you’d want it hot.”

The moan you let out as you take the plate from him is downright scandalous. “Ugh, you’re the best.”

You’re rewarded with a light chuckle and a signature boxy grin. “I know.”

As he heads back to the grill and you dig into your food, Yumi lets out a dreamy sigh. “It’s no wonder he’s planning to put a ring on your finger. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

A piece of food lodges itself in your throat, and you cough hard. Yumi stares at you in alarm until you regain your breath and turn to her with wide eyes. “Tae and I aren’t together.”

She looks back and forth between the two of you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not?”

“No.” You shake your head emphatically. “We grew up together. My boyfriend is at a work event.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaims. “I just noticed how close you were at the bar last night and how he’s always—“ She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “Nevermind. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You assure her it’s fine, and she changes the subject, asking how you know the others and what college was like. Your chat carries on for a while longer before you excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

You don’t even make it halfway across the deck, though, before a tattooed arm is snaking across your waist, lifting you off your feet, and carrying you in the direction of the pool.

“Jeon Jungkook, don’t you fucking dare!” you screech, trying to wiggle yourself out of his grip to no avail.

All you hear behind you is a maniacal giggle before you’re tossed through the air and land in the water with a splash.

When you come up to the surface, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes, you find Jungkook cackling by the pool’s edge. You glare at him.

“Asshole!”

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s a tradition!” he laughs. “It’s not a beach house trip without—“ But he doesn’t get to finish that thought before Taehyung shoulders him hard in the back, propelling him into the water next to you.

You only give Jungkook a second to get his bearings before you’re hopping onto his back and trying to play wrestle him back under the water to the laughter of your friends. It’s hopeless really—Jungkook is basically a mountain of hard muscle that barely budges under your touch—but a few minutes of scrambling all over him with determination, and he eventually concedes and humors you by allowing you to dunk him below the surface.

It’s later, once you’ve clambered out of the pool and are toweling off on the deck when you hear him talking to Jiho behind you.

“He got you good. You didn’t even hear him coming, did you?” There’s a shuffle and a “Pow!” like Jiho is reenacting Taehyung’s takedown.

“Ah, it’s alright,” Jungkook laughs, no hint of a grudge in his voice. “I messed with his girl.”

Your party stretches on into the night until the sky has turned inky black, peppered with stars that shine intensely this far removed from the city. Almost ironically, your group has mellowed out as the alcohol has flowed, settling into smaller groups scattered around the deck. Namjoon sits with Hoseok and Jiho, clearly getting philosophical around the fire pit. Sunny is gathered to the side with her friends as they sloppily braid each other’s hair, the occasional burst of laughter coming from their general vicinity. Jimin lays on his back at the side of the pool, drunkenly tracing constellations with his finger. And Maya and Jungkook are nowhere to be found.

There’s a sense of peace that flows through your veins as you watch your friends smile and talk while you grab yourself a beer from the poolside bar. You’ve always loved coming here. Sure, getting a free stay at a waterfront mansion is nothing you’d ever say no to, but it’s really getting to spend quality time with your friends—away from all of your real world responsibilities—that makes this place feel almost magical.

You look out to the shoreline and spot a figure sitting alone on the beach, staring out at the waves. You’d been thinking about joining Namjoon’s group by the fire, but that plan is immediately pushed out of mind as you grab a second bottle and make your way towards the sea.

You’re not loud in your stroll, the soft sand muting your steps, but Taehyung seems to sense your approach anyway, not startling a bit as you seat yourself next to him and hand him a beer.

“Contemplating the wonders of the universe?” you ask. From this angle, he looks almost like he did in Maya’s photograph of him—the same constellations in his eyes.

Taehyung stretches his legs out with a sigh, leaning back on his palms. “Where do you think we’ll be this time next year?”

You sip at your drink. Honestly, you can’t imagine things being all that different.

“Right back here?” you say. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of coming here. This is my ultimate happy place.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “It could be your pre-wedding party we’ll be having next year.”

“You think?”

His brow furrows at your doubt. “I’d expect you’d at least be planning then, no? Or you could already be married by then if you guys want to move fast.”

The thought sends jitters running down your spine. “Who knows?” you challenge. “Maybe you’ll be the one married. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate tomorrow and elope because you know it’s fate, and there’s no point in waiting.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “That sounds somewhat out-of-character, no?”

“Hmm, true. You’re more of a wait five years to move in and another five years to propose kind of guy. Work on your credit score and establish a detailed financial plan before even thinking about merging assets. And don’t even get me started on the background check.”

“Geez, Y/N. Does Jace know you just casually talk dirty to other guys like this?”

You playfully shove at his shoulder, and the pink of his tongue pokes through his teeth as he laughs.

“Oh, wow, look.”

Taehyung points a delicate finger as a tiny flash blazes through the sky, trailing light and stardust in its wake. He turns to you, smiling.

“Make a wish?”

The words come out on a whisper like a secret meant just for the two of you.

As you sit there, gazing out at the shadowy horizon in the distance, you feel perfectly content. What do you wish for when you feel like you already have the world? Work has been going great, and after almost a year of unpacking boxes and rearranging furniture, you feel like you and Jace are finally settled in and cozy at your apartment. You think about Jace—his smile, the soothing feel of his hands on your skin, the little black box in his desk—and contemplate all of the joy you can sense coming your way.

And then you consider the man beside you.

His eyes are closed as he meditates on his own wish, his legs now drawn up so he can rest his forearms on his knees. It flashes you back to when you were kids, lounging away the hours in your room or hanging at your favorite spots around town—the park, the library, the ice cream shop where Mrs. Kang would often take pity and treat the two of you to free cones. When you were young, Taehyung almost always sat like this, knees to his chest as if he was trying to make himself smaller. As if he could make himself invisible to the shadows that followed him every second of each day.

Taehyung’s always been a positive person, steadfastly determined to not let his demons poison his perspective of the world. Though neither of you were fond of explicitly discussing your situations, Taehyung always maintained a bright outlook on the rare occasions when your frustrations would spill over. There’s still the family we can choose, he’d tell you. We’ll find them one day.

Still, though, you could always sense a certain anxiety lingering under the mask of his smile. It showed itself in the way he’d sit with his arms around his knees, in the way his forehead would crease during the moments when you’d catch him lost in thought. This had eased up in college, the change in scenery and your newfound friends loosening his bones and laugh lines. But since graduation, you’ve seen some of that tension return to his shoulders like he’s carrying extra weight, especially in the past year.

You consider the man beside you, and you think, then, that he deserves the world, too.

I wish for Taehyung to have everything he wants. You squeeze your eyes shut, casting the thought out to the universe with everything you have. Every last desire of his heart. He deserves it all.

No one in the world would be more deserving. Of that, you’re sure.

When you open your eyes again, he’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” is all you can think to ask, blinking at him.

“Well if I tell you, then it won’t come true.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a teasing scoff. He smiles.

“Happiness,” he declares. “If I had to put it simply.”

You smile back at him, hoping those stars stay in his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

He’ll find it. You know he will.

It's Sunday morning when shit hits the fan.

After Saturday passes with ease, another lazy day by the pool punctuated with you and Taehyung collaborating on a fried chicken dinner as per your bet with Jungkook, you wake up on Sunday to the sound of Iseul's squeals over there being no hot water, a fact which is soon confirmed after the men team up to check the heater. Jungkook calls his family handyman (apparently those come standard when you have more houses than you can count on one hand), but the man is quick to inform him that he's getting ready for his granddaughter's birthday party and won't be able to come out until tomorrow.

"There's no way I'm making it through the day without a hot shower," Maya grumbles.

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows. "I can show you a hot shower.”

She doesn't even look at him.

You're also not enthused about the prospect of having to either take a cold shower or skip one entirely. So when Maya suggests going home a day early, you're already leaning towards the idea as well.

"It won't be that bad," Taehyung says, lips turning down in a tiny pout when you tell him. "The key is to just go fast."

"I'd rather not have to do it at all." You giggle as his pout deepens. "We're going to stay until the evening. It's only like a twelve hour difference."

"But I thought we were going to do a movie night."

Okay, now you feel bad.

"Temporary reschedule?" you suggest, poking at his bottom lip. "Jace and I are going to dinner on Saturday, but my Friday night is free."

A hand rubs at his chin as he pretends to make a show out of pondering your offer. "Deal."

Later, you're sitting on a chaise lounge on the back deck, soaking up your last few hours of sun with one of Jungkook's signature cocktails in your hand when Maya sighs deeply beside you in a similar show of disappointment.

"It really is a shame though," she laments. "Tonight was supposed to be our big send-off, and now I cleared my schedule tomorrow for nothing."

"We could do a girls night?" you say. "I have this new cab sav I found the other week that we could split."

"Ooh, twist my arm."

Plans made, you pull out your phone. Jace has been texting you on and off from his conference all weekend—just brief check-ins and I miss yous—so you shoot him a quick message now.

You [4:53pm]: the water heater here is busted so i'll be home early tonight. maya is going to come too, might stay over. can't wait to see you <3

The sky is a misty orange when you pack the car and say goodbye to your friends, Taehyung giving you a particularly tight hug. Things were great between you for the rest of the weekend, but you can feel the tension of your conversation lingering in the way he holds you that extra second.

You check your phone as Maya settles into the passenger seat and buckles her seat belt. There's still been no word from Jace. It's not particularly unusual for him to forget to answer his phone—especially since you expect he's busy wrapping up the conference—but a seed of worry still plants itself in the back of your brain. You hope everything is alright.

The ride is mostly quiet, you and Maya occasionally singing along to a song on the radio as the evening gradually turns to night. But about halfway back home, you feel the need to straighten things out.

“So I talked to Tae.”

She’s quiet for a second, her face shrouded in shadow. “Uh-huh.”

“He said he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Maya shifts in her seat, angling herself towards you ever so slightly. “And you believe him?”

“Yes. Definitely.”  There’s no doubt in your mind. “He’s never given me a reason not to.”

Silence stretches itself between you, Maya entirely unreadable as she seems to be puzzling something out in her head.

“Okay.”

It comes as a surprise, and you jerk your eyes away from the road to glance over at her. “Okay?”

Maya shrugs. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want there to be more?”

You work your mouth in a stunned gape. Because she’s right; why are you pushing this?

“No. We’re good.”

When you get to your apartment, you swipe you and Maya into the building and head towards the elevators. You’re a little bummed that your time at the beach house had to be cut short, but you take solace in the fact that you get some time back with Jace.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Maya asks on the ride up.

You grin. “We could play that Twilight drinking game I sent you.”

“Pfft, I know I said I have tomorrow off, but I meant I could handle a mild hangover, not alcohol poisoning.”

You fumble for your key at your apartment door, sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open. The first thing you notice is that the lights are on, so Jace must be home.

“Babe?” you call, as you and Maya dump your bags by the couch.

“Where’s that cab sav?” You nod in the direction of the kitchen, and Maya skips over to investigate.

A moan sounds through the apartment.

You and Maya both freeze, staring at each other. Goosebumps break out over your entire body, a frightening sense of impending doom slamming itself down on your consciousness.

A second moan, and now you notice the lights on under the closed door of your bedroom. There was no sign of forced entry, but the image of a wounded and bleeding Jace pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

You rush to the bedroom door, fearing the worse.

“Jace?”

You swing it open.

And your entire world collapses.

Taehyung can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re slipping through his fingers.

Movie night had been his idea, a way to get you in one spot (and mostly to himself, if he’s being honest) after your two weeks of silence. Now knowing the reason behind your push for space, he doesn’t blame you at all. Maya throwing that wrench into your relationship was surely unsettling, and he understands wanting time alone. But he’s missed you; he’s not going to deny that. And he’s desperate to prove that things can be okay between you. Things can be normal.

But the universe, it seems, is stacked against him.

He’s ambling through the house, wondering if Jimin might be up for a game of ping pong in the downstairs game room, when his phone blares in his pocket. It’s a jarring sound, violent in the way it disrupts the calmness of the house, and Taehyung frowns when he sees Maya’s name on the screen.

Maya never calls.

“Hello?”

“Tae, oh thank God.” Her voice is high and tight—clearly in distress. “You need to come to Y/N’s apartment as soon as physically possible. Grab Jimin and Kook if you need to drive them back—whatever. But just—as soon as possible.”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” he urges, hairs standing at attention on the back of his neck. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay? Is Y/N okay?”

“We got back to the apartment, and Jace he…”

Time seems to slow in anticipation of Maya’s next words—the kind of eerie stillness that precedes a storm, quiet and disarming in its disguise.

And then she drops the bomb.

“He was with someone else.”

Taehyung’s ears ring. There is no possible way he heard that right. “What?”

The breath that comes from the other side of the phone is heavy, like Maya can’t even believe the words coming out of her own mouth. “He was in bed with someone else.”

A chill drips down his spine, pushing its way through his veins until his entire body runs cold. This can’t be happening. Not to you. You’ve had enough pain and hardship in your twenty-five years of life—he’s seen it, weathered it with you. Things are supposed to be getting better; this is supposed to be the payout for years of heartache. Surely, the universe wouldn’t be so cruel.

But then it happens. A single, anguished sob rings out in the background of the call, sharp and pained in its grief.

His heart shatters, shards piercing the spaces between his ribs.

“Tae? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“She needs you. Please just get over here.”

Then line goes dead.

Taehyung is only frozen for a second longer before he’s bounding into motion, tearing down the hallway and into the living room where Jimin lays on his back on the couch. The latter shoots into a sitting position when he sees the look on Taehyung’s face.

“You okay?”

“Y/N—she—we—“ His mouth feels like it’s filled with sand, and while he stands there, working his jaw in agonizing frustration, Jimin leaps to his feet to close the distance between them, grasping Taehyung’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What happened to Y/N?”

His lungs burn as he finally finds the words. “Jace is cheating on her.”

Jimin goes still, the same stunned shock registering in his body.

“We need to—we need to go,” Taehyung gasps, and Jimin is quick to sit him on the couch.

“I’ll get Kook. We’ll take care of this,” he says, voice steady. Commanding. “You just wait here and breathe.”

The next several minutes are a blur as Jimin rushes to get Jungkook, and they work on packing the car, briefly explaining the situation to the others. Taehyung can’t think of anything but you, his focus reduced down to a pinpoint in his mind. You must be devastated. In spite of what he had said about his own feelings on Jace, he knows how much you love him, how you were expecting to spend the rest of your life with him. How must you be feeling to have an entire future ripped away? To have to bear witness to and suffer that kind of betrayal?

He’s not quite sure how it happens, but he winds up in the passenger seat of his own car, Jimin sliding behind the wheel and peeling away from the house and onto the highway. The air inside the cabin is thick, a stifling combination of premature summer heat and heavy silence, with even Jungkook sitting oddly quiet in the backseat. Taehyung is thankful for the absence of conversation; he doesn’t think he can handle talking about any of this until you’re in front of him and he can hold you, feel that you’re safe.

He realizes somewhere along the way that he’s shaking, your cry still ringing in his ears.

The trip from the beach house to the city only takes about forty-five minutes, but it feels like days, headlights and street lamps zipping by like tiny suns as Taehyung wills the car to go faster, faster, faster. He’s never felt further from you before, never been so determined to close the distance between you like he is now.

Whatever you need from him, he’ll give it.

Jimin finally pulls into your apartment parking lot, and the car hasn't even fully stopped before Taehyung is bolting out at a near sprint. Jungkook and Jimin catch up to him as he pulls out the duplicate access card you had given him in case of emergencies, swiping them into the entryway and down the hall where he pounds the button for the elevators.

"It'll be okay," Jimin says, staring Taehyung down where he seems to be vibrating in his shoes. "She'll be okay."

"She'd better be," Jungkook mutters, fists clenched tight.

(Jimin hopes Jace has long cleared out of the building, lest they run into him.)

The elevator ride is tense and slow, the numbers ticking upwards in time with the pounding in Taehyung's ears.

2...

The bastard was sleeping with someone else.

3...

You thought you were going to marry him.

4...

He'd spent time with Jace all through college. Even laughed with him at times.

5...

The sound you'd made on the phone, like you were physically wounded.

6...

If he ever sees that piece of shit again—

7.

The doors open with a ding that snaps the mess of Taehyung's thoughts into focus.

He's here. You need him.

It's a brisk walk to the end of the hallway, and then he's practically punching your apartment door, which swings open almost immediately as if Maya was waiting on the other side. She and Taehyung stare at each other for a brief moment, her mouth stretched into a tight line before she simply nods her head in the direction of the bathroom. Taehyung makes the final leg of the trip in five long strides before freezing in the doorway.

The fractured shards of his heart turn to dust.

You're curled up on the bathroom floor, a tangle of arms and hair covering your face as your body trembles with quiet sobs. They echo around the tile, filling the space between you until Taehyung thinks he can feel the sound burrowing itself under his skin, a morbid tattoo he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to erase. This image, he thinks, will surely haunt him for the rest of his life.

You. Completely and utterly broken.

He falls to his knees so he can brush your hair aside, the strands draping themselves over his fingers like a tether. Your face is red and stained with tears, and he reflexively wipes at the ones he sees rolling down your cheeks as you peer up at him, only now registering his presence.

"T-tae?"

"I'm here," he murmurs as his hands continue collect your tears, trying to carry them for you.

When you hear his voice, your cries start up again in earnest, and you reach out to clutch at his shirt. Taehyung immediately gathers you into his arms and tucks you into the haven of his chest, holding you like if he squeezes hard enough, he can press your broken pieces back together.

"T-tae...h-he..." you gasp at his collarbone, words failing you as Taehyung hugs you to him even tighter.

He runs his hands through your hair, presses kisses to the crown of your head, trails his fingers up the length of your back as you burrow into him, wails escalating.

"Shh, I've got you, baby."

He does. He'll hold you forever if he has to.

"I've got you."

NEXT

a/n: thoughts? guesses as to what taehyung used his wish on? likes, reblogs, and feedback give me life :)

taglist is open!

a/n 2: oh, fun fact. when jace caught oc going through his desk in part 1, he wasn’t even thinking about the ring box when his eyes flicked to the drawer. he was worried she was going to find the condoms, which would’ve been weird since they hadn’t used them in like two years (oof) (this isn’t plot relevant, just a detail tidbit lol)

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

[secretnameu9]

Illusion

“Hi, Tails! It’s just me Amy again! If you get this could give me a call back!”

“Tails, hi It’s me Amy again…uhm could you give me a call back when you can? I’m starting to get a bit worried. Thanks!”

…

“I haven’t heard from either of them in quite a while, I’m worried. Have you heard from either one?”

“No I have not.”

“Sometimes…Sonic can be a bit harder to get a hold of, but Tails? I…I…”

=========

“Smile!”

Click

A photo revealing two individuals standing close to each-other, trying their best to pose appears on an electronic screen. Miles “Tails” Prower and Sonic the Hedgehog were the ones who inhabited that photo. The background easily revealing that this photo was taken in Tails’ workshop.

After being sure the device had captured the photo the two broke away from each-other giving each a bit of distance between the other.

Tails stared at the screen for a moment, his face neutral and observant before that said face started to rapidly turn into a very pleased smile. Seemingly very happy with his handywork.

“Sooo? How’d it turn out?” Sonic questions, allowing his face to break out into a grin upon seeing his little bro’s face break out into a smile.

“Awesome! I just upgraded the Miles Electric’s camera the other day and this…is great!” Tails starts, his iconic two tails wagging behind him as he observes the photograph his device just captured. “I’m going get this one printed out and framed later. I like how it turned out” the fox continues seemingly very pleased with the outcome of it all. Tails turns the screen off for the device before laying it off to the side in order to focus on Sonic for the time being.

Sonic had been out and about, adventuring for the past several days, so the two haven’t seen each other in a decent amount of time. So when Sonic so happened to show up and not too long after Tails upgraded several aspects of the Miles Electric, he figured why not get a photo? It’s been a long time since he got a picture of himself and Sonic anyways.

“Well, I’m glad you like it so much, little buddy” Sonic starts shooting the kit a little thumbs up in approval. Just simply glad that his little bro is glad. “So now, that we went through the photoshoot and all, we still doing chilidogs? I’m starvvving” Sonic whines, as if he had not ate all day.

A chuckle emanates from Tails as he can’t help but roll his eyes a bit from Sonic’s slightly overdramatic show of how hungry he was. The fox kit knowing full well Sonic ate earlier that day in particular. So he wasn’t THAT hungry. Yet, it was around lunch-time and honestly chili-dogs didn’t so too bad at all. Actually chilidogs sounded great, they’re always better when Sonic’s around.

“Yep, we’re having ourselves some chilidogs! I specifically stocked up…had a feeling you’d be coming by soon.” Tails comments as he begins to walk through the house, making his way to the kitchen.

Upon reaching the said kitchen Tails goes ahead begins to get everything ready, pot, pan, cooking oil, turn on the stove, can of chili, and a package of Sonic Approved franks. A process the young fox is at this point in his incredibly short life very used to. The sheer number of repeats of this procedure likely being in the hundreds.

“So, whatcha been up to while I’ve been going around?” Sonic asks. Already knowing the answer of the general question. He knows full well Tails had been tinkering about in his workshop. Working on one of his 2bajillion projects he has going on at any given moment. But the hedgehog hoped to maybe here about some of the things the Fox had been working on.

“Lately I’ve been tinkering around with the Miles Electric and the Tornado recently. I upgraded the specs of the Miles Electric, so now it has significantly more memory space and processing power. I also enhanced the camera. I got the tornado’s booster enhanced as well! According to my calculations it should give at least a 20% speed boost!” tails comments. Seemingly very happy to talk about his projects with his best friend. Tails didn’t always get to talk about all the things he works on, so when he gets the chance it’s always a pleasure to speak about them.

“I almost forgot how compact everything in the Miles electric was! It was a fun little challenge to get everything to fit just right” Tails adds. The small fox comments on a couple of other things he worked on as well, like optimizing the houses refrigerator, it now only needing 75% of the power it originally needed to run. Briefly mentioning how he managed to hack into Eggman’s network, but not getting super into the details of what he was snooping around there for. Just lots of things the fox found fun to do.

“Well- sounds like you’ve been busy! I’m happy to hear my little buddy is able to keep doing the things he enjoys” Sonic chirps in. Very content and happy his little bro is able to keep doing his passion. “You’ve been getting the proper amount of sleep though, right?” Sonic questions. Hoping that his little bro might have had a change of heart and started to prioritize his sleep a bit more. That kid…he got so into his projects sometimes he’d just forget to sleep entirely.

Sonic didn’t get all that much of a response out of the kit. Tails simply humming to himself seemingly ignoring the question. Sonic knew full well Tails heard him. He was just dodging the question.

“Tails…” Sonic shakes his head at the youngers response or lack their of. When they were younger, Sonic would always try and help get Tails to sleep. He was rather successful in that endeavor, but as Tails grew older and started to pick up new things and the two of them branched out to do their own things, Tails sleeping issues have grown worse over the years. That’ll have to be a topic he talks to his best friend about at a later time.

Not too long after the cooking was completed, Tails bringing a plate of chilidogs to the dinner table. One plate for himself to boot. At this point Tails had figured out on average how many chilidogs each of the brother’s ate. His success rate at getting the perfect amount for each at this point was around 95%, but he always made one extra for himself…just in-case. It was usually too much for himself, but if Sonic wanted an extra he could have it and if he couldn’t eat it, Sonic would happily take it. It all worked out in the end.

The two indulged in the delicious meal. They both are quiet while they ate, focusing more on eating than talking. They didn’t want their food to go cold after all! Plus, honestly they were both a bit hungrier than they both actually thought they were. It was nice to have company to eat with, however. Always made for a good mood.

The seconds on the clock kept moving forward until the two finished their meal together, Sonic picking up and doing the dishes, lighting quick of course! Figuring it was the least he could do since Tails was kind enough to cook him up something warm to eat.

The two took some time to hang out, they played some video games together, watched one of the their movies, and just in general took the time to enjoy each others presence. Being sure to make the most of the time they spent together. At the end of the day, both Sonic and Tails truly cared for each other. So it was quite obvious that the two just liked to do things together.

In due time the ever present star that gave light and life to Mobius began to make it’s descent to the other side of the world. Things were starting to die down. The two had their dinner and more than likely were going to call it a night, but something had been on Tails’ mind for a while. It was not something he couldn’t just simply let fly, it was important.

Tails made his way downstairs, from his workshop a bit relieved seeing that Sonic was still awake, sprawled out on the couch. Seeming to be reading a book of some form. The hedgehog’s ear flicking upon hearing the fox making his way down the stairs. Sonic’s attention mainly remained on the book, until he was certain Tails’ was wanting his attention specifically. Which that became evident rather quickly when the fox came over to the couch, Sonic quick to pick a spot in his book that he could remember to pick up on later on down the line.

“What’s up, little bro?” Sonic questions. Now giving his full attention to the little fox that now stood in-front of him. The small foxes luxurious tails swaying behind him from side to side as he awaited to get his older brother’s attention.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Tails asks. His face remaining rather neutral his voice a bit unsure, he didn’t want to bother Sonic, but this was something that needed to be talked about. “I’ll make it quick, so you can get back to reading.” He adds quickly.  

Sonic removes his legs from the couch, patting right next to himself. A signal to his best friend that he’s more than welcome to take a seat. “Sure thing. What’s on that cunning fox brain of yours?”

Tails takes a seat right next to Sonic, looking forward staring at the television straight ahead not making eye contact with Sonic just yet, trying to figure out the best way to go about communicating this. It wasn’t that it was hard, but it was Tails trying to make sure Sonic takes this 100% seriously.

“Do you remember earlier, when I said I hacked into Eggman’s network?” Tails references back to a small passing statement he made earlier when both Sonic and himself were catching up. At the time Tails didn’t bring it up as it just wasn’t the right moment, but now, now was the right time.

“I think I do remember you mentioning it earlier. Why? What’s up?” Sonic questions, cocking an eye brow. Wondering what Tails managed to dig up.

“Uhm…well…” Tails starts, trying to figure out the best way to talk about this, before sighing and figuring it was time to just drop it and let spill it. “Looks like Eggman has the Phantom Ruby again. Somehow.”

There was a light pause between the two, before Tails continued “I checked the dates of the documentation, to make sure I wasn’t getting into old details. All of it is new, he’s doing testing in a new base…I think it’s something we’re going to have to look into. Quickly.”

“Quickly? Do you know who you’re talking to? We’ll have that whole situation sorted out before Eggman even knows what hit him!” Sonic says, his voice oozing with confidence. No matter what scheme Eggface comes up with, Sonic always stops him. This time it won’t be any different.

A smile was quick to break on Tails’ face. At the end of the day, he knew things were going to be fine. He knows he and Sonic take care of Eggman on a regular basis, this isn’t going to be any different. But the phantom ruby…”Yeah…you’re right. I just-you know how much trouble it caused last time around, it’s dangerous you know that. We need to be careful.” Tails mentions as he turns to Sonic, crossing his legs so he can fully sit on the couch.

“It’s okay, we got this. How about this, we go tomorrow, we’ll go to Eggman’s base wreck his little scheme before it gets going, and we’ll be back by evening and we’ll have ourselves a second serving of chilidogs? Deal?” Sonic says. Not seeming too worried all things considered. This won’t be the first time he’s had a tough battle with egghead after all.

“I’m serious Sonic, we got to be careful. We don’t-“ Tails cuts himself off as a absolutely massive, yet incredibly adorable yawn escapes. His lack of sleep finally seeming to catch-up to his body.

“Somebodies tired, now aren’t they?” Sonic grins. “Looks like somebody has to finally get to bed at a reasonable hour.” Sonic looks at his wrist at his fake watch that he’s not wearing. “Go ahead, get yourself some rest kiddo, wanna make sure that brain is well rested for the butt kicking we’re gonna give eggface tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right. Fine.” Tails gets up, wiping away a tear, his very aggressive yawn causing his eyes to water a bit. “I already have the coordinates to the base. So we’ll get that figured out tomorrow. Goodnight, Sonic.” Tails leaves off as he begins to make his way to his bed room. Another yawn escaping  on his way back. “Goodnight, Tails!” Sonic wishes to his little brother. Now having the whole room himself.

“The phantom ruby…?” Sonic murmurs to himself. “But how?”

=========

This was a bad idea, this was a really bad idea. Tails internally thinks to himself, trying to get through corridor after corridor. He knew they needed prep time, he knew they should have called for back-up. This was just all bad. Nearly every worst case scenario has arrived.

As promised both Tails and Sonic did make their way to Eggman’s new base. Tails had brought some extra fire power, bringing his newly upgraded arm blaster. In the back of his mind he hoped that maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, since they were striking so early, but hope…is not a very scientific word. Hope doesn’t account for things going wrong and hope doesn’t rewrite history.

The operation itself didn’t go too bad at first. If anything, by all accounts it seemed this would just be a quick, enter base, wreck the plans, go home, and not have to worry about it after a while. But, this was the Phantom Ruby being talked about here.

Practically upon a false sense of security setting in, Sonic and Tails were both separated. It began to become more difficult to determine what was real and what was fake. So it wasn’t much surprise that, that were to have happened. Luckily Tails accounted for this and had himself and Sonic bring their communication devices. Unluckily there seemed to be a rather large amount of interference when attempting to communicate. So long distance communication was not much of an option.

“We’ll have to wait to regroup.” Tails murmurs to himself as he keeps going forward. He knew the layout of this base, it wasn’t very convoluted compared to some of Eggman’s previous designs, but something was off. He couldn’t figure out where point a was or point b. Which was strange because he did specifically take the time to remember the layout.

Tails made sure to put his arm blaster to good use. There was badniks loitered through the building as he went on. They didn’t really stand much of a chance against the upgraded weapon, he thanked his past self for doing those upgrades. There numbers weren’t impressive at first, but over time they seemed to begin growing. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was getting closer to important details of the base or…was this all in his mind?

Then suddenly there were only occasional amounts of the robots. Just one. Or maybe two at most. Just scattered about. Strange. None of this was making any logical sense. The young fox turned around to see the path behind him. It seemed like the way he just came, nothing out of the ordinary.

Forward. Keep going forward and don’t look back. You’ll run into Sonic that way, right?

So Tails kept going forward, he took care of whatever robots that remained in his path.

Tails was getting into a rhythm, see robot shoot. See robot shoot. See robot shoot. See robo-

Wait…wait why did that robot just scream out in pain? Why is that robot screaming out in agony? Why does that voice sound so familiar…oh no…

“No…no, no” Tails closed his eyes and shook his head violently. Trying to make these illusions stop for just a moment. He should have known better he was just seeing things this whole time. But when he opened his eyes, his heart dropped. The fox dropped his weapon to the floor as he stepped forward.

“Sonic…SONIC!” Tails ran forward kneeling down before his brother, the hedgehog clutching the wound know inhabiting his chest. “Sonic, oh my- chaos…I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-“ Tails was panicking. He just shot his own brother, he just blasted his own family.

“Gotta say…you’re a killer shot, little bro, heh…” Sonic manages. His body doing it’s best to focus mostly on surviving and less on talking.

“Sonic, I’m gonna get you out of here, please just hold on, let me…I just need to find a way to…I just-“ Tails looks around trying to find anything to help in this situation. Something to temporarily, yet useless dress the wound. Something to use as a support to help carry his injured best friend out of this cursed base. Anything. But in his state of panic, he didn’t notice that Sonic had reached out to him. He did notice when a hand gently cuffed around the side of his head.

Tails turned to look at Sonic. And Sonic looked at Tails, staring into his sky blue eyes…eyes that were now stained with tears, worry, and panic.

Sonic took his hand and moved it to where Tails ear was and cupped his hand, rubbing behind the kit’s ears. Tails wasn’t sure if Sonic was just so out of it right now that he didn’t know what he was doing or if the hedgehog was just trying to show his affection at such a dangerous moment. No…Sonic didn’t think he was dying, right? Sonic’s not going to die…he can’t die.

“Come-on Sonic, help-help me apply pressure to your wound, please…I just need to buy sometime so I can figure-figure…figure-“ Tails hiccups trying his best to finish his statement.

“Tails buddy…” Sonic reaches and gingerly holds one of Tails’ arms with one of his free hands. Using his other to help Tails apply pressure to the wound. Despite how futile it seemed. Both of their hands covered in red. “Tails look at me.”

Tails looks at Sonic, directly into his eyes. Staring into those ever green emerald eyes, that he always looked up to. Those eyes that always brought hope and light to any situation they were in. Those some eyes that the universe seemed so headstrong to take away from him.

“Tails…”

“Tails, I love you, little bro. More than you’d ever know…” Sonic coughs a bit, his voice growing weaker, his body feeling lighter by the minute.

“Can you promise me something?” Sonic asks. Tails quickly nods. “Anything, Sonic. What is it?”

“Promise to take care of yourself…live your best life, be free. I know it’s going to be hard for you bud, but-“ cough “but, do it for me will you?”

Tails swallows a lump that had been in his throat since the moment this went down. He only now noticed how little he himself was breathing. The fox shook his head a bit “Don’t, don’t be saying stuff like that. You’re going to be here. This…” Tails inhales deeply “But I promise, just please…hang in there just a little longer.”

“Thanks, little bro. I knew…I could…count on you. I lov u” Sonic smiles. His breaths growing shorter and shorter. Time was running out. Quickly.

“I love you, too Sonic.” Tails says quickly. The small fox looking around again to see anything that would help them out, but there was nothing. Just empty corridor. Why…just why.

When Tails turned around, he could feel whatever spirit was left in his soul vanish. Sonic’s eyes were open still, yet they were so empty. Like there was nothing there.

“Sonic?” Tails questions panic in his voice. “Sonic?!” Tails releases his hands from the wound they were covering. The small fox shaking his big brother, lightly at first praying it would get some form of response. He quickly moved his hands to the hedgehogs wrist. Pulse? No…was he…breathing? Tails looked to see just any form of movement. Was Sonic breathing? No…he was not.

The fox moved his hands back to Sonic’s shoulders “SONIC?! PLEASE! WAKE UP!” he shook Sonic violently. Maybe just maybe it would be enough to get Sonic’s body to cooperate…yet nothing.

The young fox lies down next Sonic, cuddling up next to his best friend, his brother, his…family. Lies next to him and sobs. This was all his own fault. He should have done a better job at emphasizing how dangerous this place was, he should have had a better plan, he should have called for back-up, he should have…Tails looked at his discard arm blaster. He then slowly and scarily looked at his own red foiled gloves.

“It was me…” Tails chokes. “I killed Sonic.”

He laid there in silence, snuggling close to his brother. The tears never stopped, not until everything went dark. =================

@nixoon-again @tornado1992 @myyla-x @tornado1992 @000marie198 Am I cool yet? I did the thing. II want y'all to know y'all single handedly got me back into writing. With your stories. Hope you know that. This is inspired by y'alls work <3

#miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #unbreakable bond #tails the fox #sonic #dynamic duo #sonic and tails #sth #tails #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: sibling death #tw: major character death #Not gonna lie. I had a lot more planned with this #but had to rush for Sunday #and had to rush to get this done before work #I really need to learn to condense #my writing is way too long.

[miyseung]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 - 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: Sunghoon has never felt any spark in his heart, none of that silly love he’s read about in novels in his free time. No one interested him, and it wasn’t like his father, the king, would let him have friends, male or female, for fear of being betrayed or developing feelings for them. He lived a life of isolation, excited for nothing – neither the idea of being married to a pretty princess or becoming the next ruler of the Park kingdom. He most certainly did not expect you, his new guard, to change all that. He did not expect you to brighten his days and light up his heart.

includes: no warnings in the teaser!!

death, murder, war/battle, attempted murder (kinda), royal au, romanticized medieval setting of sorts, forced marriage/proposal, a lot of time skips so it moves somewhat quickly, more warnings will be added in the final oneshot

pairing: prince! sunghoon x guard! fem! reader

word count: 904

genre: angst

READ THE FULL FIC HERE !

Sunghoon was reading over some papers pertaining to the kingdom’s matters when he heard a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

One of the guards came in, before bowing upon seeing him.

“Sire, his Majesty wishes to see you.”

He nodded and set the papers in a neat stack. He then put them in a drawer and locked it for security. He then stood up and followed the guard, maintaining a neutral expression.

His mind was working much faster than normal though.

His father was very strict, and the slightest mistake meant an extremely harsh lecture. He flicked through his memories, trying to remember what he could have done wrong, and what he should say as his apology. 

He pursed his lips as a thought crossed his mind - was his recent trip to the colder regions made known to his father? He had gone for administrative work, but he couldn’t resist spending some time there ice skating, which the king always considered useless since it benefited only the person skating, not the country. He had done his best to keep it under wraps, but maybe one of the guards reported this to the king. Damn it.

He mentally slapped himself for using such crude language. Those were the words of peasants and did not suit a prince like him. Holy moly…buckling barnacles, great heavens…such lengthy words to express frustration, he thought. ‘Damn it’ was only two syllables.

As he snapped out of his reverie, he entered the Throne Room. His father was seated on the grand throne at the end of the airy space. The seats where the ministers sat were empty. Court was always in the morning, and it was probably lunchtime by now - the prince wasn’t sure. 

He stood a few feet away from his father. The guard bowed and left, and Sunghoon made eye contact with the old man in front of him. He didn’t seem angry, so the younger relaxed a bit, letting out a sigh.

“Why have you called me here, father?”

“I’ve received some proposals from other kings. They’ve sent me paintings of their daughters. A lovely selection of princesses, I must say.”

Sunghoon had to physically hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

“Father, I’ve already told you this. I am not ready for marriage and I am not interested in this topic.”

“Yes, but it’s good to start early. Maybe you’ll change your mind after-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Father, but why have you actually summoned me?”

The king narrowed his eyes at his son but didn’t say anything more about the topic.

“Well, I’ve decided to get you a personal guard. There have been many threats of attacks on the palace, so it’s better to take this precaution.”

“Interesting. Will he be with me all the time or-”

“She.”

“What?”

“Your guard is a female.”

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. His father? Hiring a woman? As his bodyguard? What if he-

“Are you serious?” “Yes. She is very capable and I’m sure she will protect and serve you well. I trust you to keep your relationship with her strictly professional.”

It wasn’t like he knew how to have a non-professional relationship with anyone outside of his family anyway.

“Yes, Father. Will she be with me at all times?”

“Indeed she will, except for when you are sleeping. At that time, she will stand outside your door and guard you.” “What about her food and sleep?”

“That is not your concern.”

“But-”

“Silence!”

He immediately bowed his head slightly as a sign of remorse for stepping out of line. This was going to be interesting, he thought. He had little to no interaction with women outside of his mother and sister, and the small talk he made with princesses and duchesses of other kingdoms was always awkward. Now he was having someone of the opposite gender, a woman, watching over him nearly 24/7.

He slowed down his train of thought. Why was he thinking like a teenage boy ogling over a girl? He was the crown prince, he was better than that. It was going to be a new experience, that was all.

“May I meet her now?”

“Of course. She’s arriving as we speak.”

Just then, the door opened, and you entered, a male soldier on either side. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out of it. 

He was having a cultural shock of sorts. All the women he had met were all dainty, graceful and poised - the epitome of perfection. You, on the other hand, had an air of authority about you — rough and firm. A few scars were on your face, probably from battle. You bowed the full 90 degrees, and he could only respond with a small nod.

Oh fuck, you were gorgeous.

And he used foul language again. Stupid Sunghoon, he reprimanded himself.

He didn’t take back what he said, however. Your beauty wasn’t the type written in books or sung in ballads, but it had to be known to the world, somehow. He was almost tempted to write one himself. 

Hold on, why was he thinking all this? His father had just told him to not think anything about you that crossed the lines of professional, and thinking about how pretty you were was not within those lines.

“This is your new personal guard, Y/N.”

a/n: it kinda reads like ‘y/N iS nOt LiKe oThEr gIrLs’ in this bit but i swear that was not the intent! hoon (is a loser) has simply never had real interaction with women who aren’t royals, so pls don’t take it in that manner <3 this is probably going to be my longest oneshot yet, my motivation to write is not completely dead we cheered!!

there is a taglist for this oneshot, lmk if you want to be added on it in my asks!

#mallow’s works #divider by fairytopea #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen royal au #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #sunghoon oneshot #enhypen angst #sunghoon enhypen #prince au #sunghoon fic #enhypen fic teaser

[vgfm]

A Lily Gilded: A Review and Analysis of Undertale Yellow

The Short, Spoiler-Free Review (TL;DR)

Any Undertale fan who owns a PC should play Undertale Yellow, even if they previously weren’t interested or have any doubts or reservations.

No criticism that I levy at Undertale Yellow, big or small, is intended to dissuade anyone who hasn’t played it from trying it: you should play it and there is no reason not to aside from a lack of free time or not owning a PC.

Although I have some criticisms of Undertale Yellow, my overall opinion of it is still very positive. I’m glad to have experienced this game.

If you haven’t played the game yet, then I recommend starting with the neutral route. Pacifist is much harder in this game and there are story segments exclusive to the neutral route that make it worth the time investment.

My analysis from this point forward will include spoilers for all three major routes of Undertale Yellow. It will also be very long (close to 60 pages), so be warned.

My Background

I’ve completed all routes of Undertale, Deltarune (Ch 1-2), and Undertale Yellow

I primarily engage with UTDR fandom by reading and writing theories. I like to think that I’m decently knowledgeable about the series, at least

I have no professional background in game development

I’m usually a purist when it comes to games and the topic of fangames and mods. I’m a “picky eater” in particular when it comes to UT/DR fan content:

I’ve never played an Undertale fangame prior to Yellow

Most UT and DR fangames have either not appealed to me personally or have not been finished

I don’t engage with most story-driven Undertale/Deltarune Aus or fanworks if I feel they don’t capture the spirit of the original games

Saying Something Nice

Undertale Yellow is the best fangame that I’ve played in recent memory. I think it’s very likely that Undertale Yellow is not only the best Undertale fangame ever made but that it will remain the best Undertale fangame of its kind for the foreseeable future. It’s not just a good fangame but a good game in general--had Undertale Yellow been a completely original game with no ties to Undertale, it very likely would have become a cult classic in its own right.

Of the long-form fan content I’ve seen, Undertale Yellow is among those that come the closest to replicating the style and tone of the original game without feeling like it’s simply cribbing the story or jokes.

It goes without saying that Undertale Yellow’s spritework and animations far surpass those of Undertale in sheer effort, and at times they rival and surpass those of Deltarune as well. There are some stylistic differences between Yellow and the canon games, and I wouldn’t go so far as to say Yellow’s visuals are always better in every conceivable aspect, but the general quality difference is night and day.

Yellow’s music comes close to rivaling Toby’s work, though frankly I think this is a barrier that no fangame will ever overcome for me. It’s a better impression of Toby’s style than most who’ve tried, but it’s still noticeably an impression. One thing that I immensely appreciate is that Yellow has battle theme variants for each major area in the game. “Enemy Approaching” is a fine song, but I always start to get sick of it by the time I reach the end of Waterfall in the original game.

Most of all, what I respect about Undertale Yellow is when it shows restraint: the restraint to largely omit cameos and callbacks to Undertale’s characters except when it feels warranted to do so. I respect that the game doesn’t try to smuggle in characters or worldbuilding elements from Deltarune and instead sticks to its guns as an Undertale prequel. I also appreciate that, for the most part, it sidesteps the trap that most prequels fall into of trying to tell a bigger story than the original—the story of Undertale Yellow still feels impactful and meaningful, but it does not overshadow or diminish the events of Undertale.

I wanted to frontload my praises for this game because a lot of my more detailed analyses to follow will come across more negative and nitpicky. Admittedly, it’s much easier to point out something that doesn’t work in a story or game that’s otherwise good because it sticks out like a sore thumb and takes you out of the experience. Additionally, so many things are done well in this game that I’d be here all day if I listed every single thing that worked. If there’s an aspect of the game that I don’t comment on then just assume that I found it at least serviceable, if not great.

My Criteria

Since Undertale Yellow is based on the world of Undertale and borrows many gameplay elements from it, it’s virtually impossible to review or analyze the game without inviting at least some comparisons to Undertale.

Having said that, I’m going to avoid criticizing differences between Yellow and the original game if the criticism would boil down to “it’s different from Undertale, therefore it’s bad.” There are things that Yellow does differently that I find worse, but I’ll argue those on their own merit rather than pointing solely to the fact that they’re different. On the flip side, there are a few places where Yellow differs from the original game because Yellow does something better—I’ll be sure to point out these instances as well.

Overall, I’m grading Undertale Yellow on a curve because I can’t help but compare it to the original game. I don’t feel it’s unfair for me to do so, since Yellow relies on Undertale not only for its conceit but also for some of its story beats—Yellow would not make sense or feel complete as an experience if Undertale did not exist.

If Undertale Yellow had been a completely original game, with whatever tweaks or rewrites would have been necessary to make it such, my overall tone would probably be more positive, since I’d be comparing it to the average game experience rather than to one of my favorite games of all time. This is not to say that Yellow would have necessarily been better as an original game, nor am I saying that it should have been—it just would have made the comparisons to Undertale less warranted.

Lastly, I’m going to try to avoid comparing Undertale Yellow to Deltarune. I feel like this is a less fair comparison since Deltarune is not a finished game and Yellow lifts very little from Deltarune beyond a run button and the charge shot.

Bosses

Undertale Yellow’s bosses were the most contentious issue for me during my initial playthroughs. Subsequent playthroughs caused me to warm up a bit to some of the problematic ones, but most of my gameplay-related gripes are tied to its bosses.

My three biggest issues with this game’s bosses are the strategies for sparing bosses, the telegraphing of their attacks, and the attack variety that each boss has.

Sparing Strategies

To start with the simpler complaint, half the bosses and minibosses in this game have pacifist fights that consist of waiting for the boss’s dialogue and attacks to run out before you can spare them, sometimes requiring a token act only at the very end of the fight.

This is a problem because it reduces these fights to waiting games that can be brute-forced with a full supply of healing items. Annoyingly, these same fights also come with 2-3 options in the ACT menu that often do nothing and in most cases don’t even prompt any reaction or different dialogue from the boss.

By comparison, Undertale’s pacifist route only has two (and a half) bosses that require waiting out the opponent: Papyrus and Muffet, and both of these fights have alternate completion conditions that can be used to bypass the wait.

Conversely, Napstablook’s fight requires acting, Toriel requires constant sparing, the Snowdin dogs all have unique acts, Mad Dummy requires redirecting her attacks back at her, Undyne requires running away, the Royal Guards require acting, Mettaton must pass a ratings threshold tied to unique acts, Asgore and Flowey require fighting; Asriel’s fight is half waiting but the second phase requires the lost soul segments to be completed.

Every Undertale boss felt like a puzzle on pacifist and some like Undyne and Mad Dummy were genuine brain-teasers. None of Yellow’s fights ever quite scratch that itch, though a couple come close like Guardener and Axis.

It baffles me a little that this issue is even present because the common enemy encounters in Yellow don’t fall prey to this. In fact, a few enemy encounters in Yellow cleverly require using multiple different acts in a specific (and usually intuitive) order to achieve victory—something that even Undertale seldom did.

It seems that most bosses in Yellow were designed around distinguishing themselves via their attack patterns rather than their spare method, though this leads into anther major issue: how these attacks are conveyed, paced, and telegraphed to the player.

Attack Telegraphing

Undertale Yellow is meant to have harder combat than Undertale, which had me a bit wary going in. The average enemy encounter in Yellow feels harder than Undertale, and the same is certainly true of the bosses. However, I’m not sure if I’d say any of Yellow’s hardest bosses quite rival the Sans fight in terms of sheer difficulty, at least in terms of the number of attempts it took me to complete them.

This could be chalked up to me coming into Undertale Yellow with more experience than when I first played Undertale, or Yellow’s 1.1 patch toning down a few of the harder fights. For the record, I’ve beaten all fights in Yellow without the use of the game’s “easy mode” option—I used it for certain bosses in my very first pacifist and no mercy runs, but I later replayed those runs with the setting disabled in order to have a “proper” experience.

Many fights in Yellow, big and small, feel less “fair” than the fights in Undertale and even now I’m not 100% sure I can nail down why. A lot of this boils down to the “feel” of the fights, but part of this could be due to me already being familiar with Undertale’s attack patterns and not Yellow’s. OG Undertale does have a handful of battle moments that feel “unfair” or not designed as optimally for new players as they could have been, which is easy for a player like me to gloss over after I’ve become familiar with the game. One such example is the Lemon Bread amalgamate, which (imo) is one of the hardest fights in the pacifist route.

Still, I noticed many instances in Yellow where incoming attacks would give little or seemingly no warning before they were able to hurt you. Some examples off the top of my head would be Mooch’s moneybag attack, Guardener’s triple stomp attack that fills the whole box, Starlo’s horseshoe attack that blends into his head before it drops, and Ceroba’s paralyzing diamond attack.

The only consistent way I found to avoid attacks like these was either to know in advance where they were going to enter the bullet box or to already be moving before they appear. It doesn’t help that often attacks that come from outside the bullet box will spawn in immediately outside the box, minimizing the travel time where players could see them coming and act accordingly.

Another common issue I found is the frequent use of blue and orange attacks, often paired with each other and/or with regular attacks, and often without properly telegraphing which will be used until they’re already onscreen. In contrast, Undertale generally used these types of attacks one at a time or, in Asgore’s case, clearly telegraphed them before they were used in tandem.

Yellow’s approach presents a problem because dodging orange and blue attacks demands either movement or lack of movement, which can force the player to take a hit if there’s already another attack onscreen that demands the opposite. In my experience the solution was either to know in advance where the blue and orange attacks would come from (and when) to get into optimal position, or simply tank the hit and hope you make up for it later.

Speaking from my own personal experience, I struggled for a time with Ceroba’s No Mercy fight when I went in blind—she has multiple deadly attacks with little to no telegraphing as well as color attacks that can overlap each other if you’re not already in an optimal position. I was only able to complete this fight on normal after I watched a no-hit run so that I could memorize her patterns. This is something I’ve never had to do for any Undertale or Deltarune fight, including Sans, and it doesn’t really feel like it’s in the spirit of the franchise. I always try to go into each of these games blind and I don’t think it’s unreasonable that a new player, even on a harder route, should be able to intuit what is expected of them in a fight. A few attacks might be challenging or counter-intuitive at first, but having to rely on rote memorization or a guide just doesn’t feel fun or organic to me.

On that note, some of you may be nodding toward the Sans fight as an example of some of the things I’m complaining about, particularly the lack of proper telegraphing and a reliance on memorization. Well, let’s unpack that.

To start, I’ll say that the Sans fight is not my favorite fight in Undertale from a pure gameplay perspective and that I don’t fully agree with some of its design choices. One reason I don’t play fan battles in general is because many of them seem to emulate the style of the Sans fight or double down on it without understanding it.

Despite my minor issues with it, I find the “unfair” aspects of the Sans fight to be more justified and acceptable within the context of Undertale than I find the seeming “unfairness” of Yellow’s harder fights to be in the context of that game. One reason is that the Sans fight is the only fight in Undertale (or Deltarune) that works the way that it does, whereas Yellow has several, even if they’re overall less hard than the Sans fight.

More importantly, the Sans fight has proper buildup, feels appropriate for the character and story, and (most important of all) the game itself acknowledges the fact that it’s unfair and the fight is designed around that admission. Sans literally has over a dozen different dialogue variations depending on how many times you die in his fight and when.

The game is even aware of the fact that most new players won’t survive Sans’ first attack and creates multiple variants of just the dialogue before and after that attack. Undertale fully anticipates your deaths and cultivates a unique experience for you along the way as you learn Sans’ patterns.

To put it simply, the Sans fight is the exception that proves the rule: it makes you realize how much fairer the other fights in Undertale are and how easy it is to take those design principles for granted. Conversely, the attack patterns in the hardest Yellow fights didn’t feel radically different or radically “less fair” in philosophy from Yellow’s moderately difficult boss fights—both feel varying degrees of “unfair,” but the harder fights are just “more” with the occasional twist added on top.

My platonic ideal of a challenging boss fight in an Undertale game would be Undyne the Undying. Undyne the Undying is a massive difficulty spike in her respective run, at times she requires ridiculous reaction time, and it’s easy to psych yourself out and get double-tapped by her barrages and die quickly. Nonetheless, her fight feels fair—it’s a culmination of the rules you’ve been taught and it doesn’t needlessly subvert them. Even though she has her dreaded reverse-arrow attacks that trip up new players, these are still properly telegraphed and manageable. Looking at footage of it now, it’s surprising how this fight looks more honest and straightforward than many of Yellow’s later boss fights.

Attack Variety

Another contributing factor to my issues with Yellow’s boss fights is the sheer number and variety of attacks that some bosses have, particularly in the latter half of the game. To wit, most bosses in Undertale have about 4-5 unique attacks that are repeated with variations, while Undertale Yellow’s bosses can have upwards of 9-10 unique types of attacks, not including variations. Ceroba alone has ten completely different unique attack patterns in just the first phase of her pacifist fight—every single turn is a completely different attack requiring different dodging strategies and none are repeated.

Some may be asking why this is a problem. Isn’t more variety a good thing? This just shows that the Yellow team put more effort in, right? My issue here is that many of these attacks don’t seem to exist for any reason except for the sake of artificial variety and because the devs (presumably) thought they’d be a cool-looking thing to dodge. If you’re confused as to the point I’m trying to make, let’s look at how Undertale utilized its attack patterns with Mettaton EX.

The Mettaton EX fight is a favorite of fans and mine, and one reason I like it so much is for how it uses eclectic and seemingly chaotic attacks to teach the player new mechanics while offering a spare mechanic that relies on strategic thinking to optimize. The fight offers the following types of attacks: moving legs, bombs, boxes, miniature mettatons, gates, a disco ball, and Mettaton’s heart. Not counting the joke/gimmick turns like the essay or break time, this is seven main attack archetypes, each with their own variations and crossover with each other.

Note that all seven of these attack types interact with the fight’s core mechanic: the yellow soul mode. More importantly, each of these attacks teaches the player something about how the soul mode works with no need for an onscreen prompt. Boxes and bombs teach you that there are some attacks you should shoot and some that you should not. The hand gates initially teach you that some bullets are unaffected by your shots, but later you’re given gates with yellow buttons that will open them, teaching you that some targets require precision. The miniature mettatons teach you that some attacks will become a bigger problem for you if you don’t take them out right away. The moving legs teach you that shooting can stop certain attacks from moving and that the timing of your shots is important. The disco ball builds on this lesson, requiring the need to plan your next movements when shooting the ball. The heart serves as the culmination, featuring the bombs and mini-mettatons from before while also giving you a precise moving target to hit repeatedly.

All of Mettaton EX’s attacks tie into a common theme and reinforce one another—learning to dodge and utilize the mechanics of one attack will make you better-equipped to deal with the others. It’s by no means a perfect fight, nor does it teach all of its lessons perfectly—I remember it taking me several attempts to complete and some mechanics like the disco ball and legs didn’t “click” with me immediately, but there’s clear intent behind every attack and it’s remarkable how utilitarian the whole thing is structured, despite its reputation for being one of the game’s longer and more self-indulgent fights.

Let’s bring things back to Ceroba for comparison. Her first phase has 10 unique attacks, only half of which feature mechanics that appear in the later phases: her paralyzing diamonds, her spinning bullets that circle around you, her bells that create colored shockwaves, and the vortex that opens in the center of the arena.

The other attacks are only used once, have little-to-no pattern commonality with each other or with her later attacks, and teach nothing other than how to dodge each of these one-off attacks. At most, a few attacks share a flower motif but move with completely different behaviors (straight line, fanning out, circling, homing in). While this isn’t horrible design, I can’t help but find it a bit wasteful considering what other fights have done with less and how chaotic the later phases of Ceroba’s fight get—something that players could have been eased into by having her first phase present more of her later attacks in a more controlled environment.

In the end, I remember being frustrated with the Ceroba pacifist fight when I first played it. Part of this was due to my own mistake of going past the point of no return without a full stock of items, but the lack of cohesion in the first phase and its lacking relevance to the mechanics of the second phase made it hard for me to “gel” with the gameplay and, as a result of my own frustration and confusion, I had a harder time getting invested in the narrative. I’ve seen some fans label the Ceroba fight the best fight in the series, but I wouldn’t even put it in my top 25, despite the overwhelming effort on display from the developers.

To bring the comparison home, I cried the first time I saw Mettaton say goodbye to his call-in viewers, but not once did I cry during Ceroba’s fight. A flamboyant robot making a single pained expression leaves a bigger impact when his attacks are unintrusive to the experience, and a lovingly-animated grieving fox’s backstory doesn’t hit as hard when I’m distracted by a hodgepodge of visually stunning but incoherent bullet hells. Less is more.

I realize I’ve been a bit mean to Yellow during this segment. In fairness, I did replay the pacifist route and tried the Ceroba fight in a more prepared state. I enjoyed the fight more my second time around, but I still would not rank it among my favorites in the franchise. And to be clear, I don’t hate this fight at all—I just think it represents the excesses in Yellow’s battle design and how they can sour a first-time experience, which is the most important experience for a narrative-driven game. Even the weaker aspects of Yellow’s design are, by and large, serviceable by the standards of typical game design. Compared to Undertale, though, I was disappointed in the areas where it lacked or, more accurately, overstepped.

Having fewer types of attacks is not a result of less effort—it allows more room for variations on each type of attack and it can make difficult or poorly-telegraphed attacks more forgivable if the attack is used multiple times with the first instance training the player for the future variations. I feel that having too many unique attacks for each boss resulted in each attack not receiving the necessary polish and balancing that it should have, and it also made each fight feel less instructive and lacking in a clear design goal.

To close this off, I’d like to give a positive example of a boss fight from Undertale Yellow: Axis. For the most part, Axis successfully walks the tightrope of Yellow’s more complex late-game fights while still maintaining a consistent theme and introducing concepts to the player gradually. The whole fight revolves around blocking Axis’ attacks with a trashcan lid—first with a ground-based lid, then with a lid that rotates around an axis (get it?). As the fight progresses, new types of projectiles and hazards are introduced, usually first using the ground-based lid to avoid overwhelming the player.

As if that weren’t enough, the fight comes with its own unique sparing strategy where players fill a meter by blocking attacks and then attempt to reflect an orb back at Axis once the meter is full. The fight’s not perfect—there’s still the occasional one-off attack that doesn’t really teach any relevant lesson to the player, the orb reflection mechanic is finicky, and the fight is perhaps slightly more difficult than I’d prefer from a typical boss fight, but if all Yellow bosses had been of a similar caliber then I wouldn’t have needed to go on this massive detour about boss design in the first place.

Since some might ask, I might as well weigh in on Yellow’s most controversial boss: El Bailador. I initially had difficulty with this fight due to my lack of experience with rhythm games (and the lack of preparation that the game gives you). I also found the need to press a direction key and the Z key for each note to be a tad clunky. Beyond that? I actually didn’t mind the fight all that much. It introduces a simple concept and builds upon it gradually in a way that felt satisfying to me as I began to master it. The last turn maybe goes on for too long, but I can’t say that I hated it. I promise I’m not trying to piss off the Undertale Yellow fandom (who, if memes are anything to go by, seem to despise this fight), but I found the simplicity of Bailador refreshing considering how chaotic the later fights get. That said, I turned on the auto-rhythm setting in future playthroughs to make this fight less of a difficulty spike.

Themes

To start off, I’d like to acknowledge the fact that Undertale Yellow largely avoids most of the “meta” themes that Undertale and Deltarune touch upon, nor does the game try to go in its own direction in regards to metatextual concepts. Undertale Yellow generally leaves the topic untouched, aside from continuing to use in-universe mechanics established in Undertale such as saving and EXP/LV. Some fans might view this as disappointing or even a betrayal of the tones and themes previously established in Toby’s work. Me? I don’t mind at all, honestly. If anything, it’s refreshing to see an Undertale fan project that takes the setting of Undertale at face value rather than trying to outsmart it or put their own meta spin on it. Far too often have I seen fanworks that swing the pendulum in the other direction and have characters just flat out address the player and shatter the verisimilitude of the setting with no buildup.

None of this is to say that Undertale Yellow is lacking in themes. The most prominent theme I noticed, unsurprisingly, is that of justice. Undertale strongly implies that the yellow human soul is the soul that represents justice, and fanworks ever since have ran with the idea. Undertale Yellow represents the culmination of this concept by turning each of its routes into differing interpretations of what justice means.

As a refresher, Undertale Yellow has three main routes with four endings: true pacifist, “false” pacifist, neutral, and no mercy. I see each ending as its own realization of and commentary on the concept of justice.

Neutral

In Undertale Yellow, the neutral ending acts as something of a “bad ending” from classic video games. These are the kind of endings you get when you fail to 100% complete a game and you’re told to go back and do it again, complete with Flowey’s laugh imposed over the “Thank you for playing!” end credits message.

Who wore it better?

Thematically, the neutral route represents justice as subjective and personal—Clover can spare or kill whoever they wish. It’s hard to argue that any one monster in Undertale Yellow is more guilty than any other in this route, so killing monsters in neutral largely comes off as the capricious whims of Clover rather than being based on any consistent law or greater principle.

This outlook ultimately blows up in Clover’s face when they come to a head with their foil in this route: Flowey, who exercises his own form of justice, or “judgment” as he prefers. Flowey only cares about freeing himself from his current situation and will use any means to achieve this goal. In his eyes, your failure to follow his directions or be of further use of him is a slight against him that demands punishment as he sees fit.

Fitting this individualistic outlook, Flowey takes “might makes right” to its logical conclusion by trapping you in his own personal hell while he acts as a wannabe-God looking down on high. Ultimately Clover can only escape when Flowey wills it, cementing Clover’s status as a pawn subject to the whims of the powerful despite their illusions of independence. Without laws to protect them, the weak will be trampled by the powerful.

Pacifist

Pacifist presents two outlooks depending on whether Clover spares or kills Ceroba in the final battle. Of all the monsters Clover meets, Ceroba is the most culpable for a serious real-world crime other than Asgore and Axis (the latter of whom may not meet the definition of culpability or competence to stand trial).

Clover lacks the fore-knowledge that Ceroba’s daughter will likely survive thanks to Alphys’ efforts, so Clover would view Ceroba’s actions toward Kanako as manslaughter, or at least reckless endangerment. Unlike the neutral route, Clover’s choice can’t solely be chalked up to their own personal whims—actual harm has been done by Ceroba, but more harm may yet be done if she’s killed.

False Pacifist

If Clover kills Ceroba, then this choice seems to represent justice as following the law to the letter, for good or ill. Starlo, who’s most upset by Ceroba’s passing, reluctantly echoes this sentiment:

Even if Clover stands by their choice deep down, it’s reasonable to assume that hurting Starlo this way left a bitter taste in their mouth. Not long after this, Clover reaps what they’ve sewn as they come face to face with their foil for this ending: Asgore.

Initially I thought it was strange that Asgore doesn’t appear if you spare Ceroba, but this ending illustrates why Asgore’s entrance is most appropriate here. Asgore finds himself in a similar situation as Clover. Asgore is keeping his word to his people for good or ill, and a king’s word is law. In all likelihood, Clover probably hated killing Ceroba in much the same way that Asgore hates killing humans. But both are trapped within the confines of their own rigid principles.

Martlet, who acts as an onlooker, first argues on behalf of Clover’s killing of Ceroba on the basis of the law, but just as quickly turns around to plead that Asgore bend the rules of his kingdom to spare Clover. In the end, she can’t have it both ways. No one is happy with how things turn out and the only thing served is the letter of the law, rather than the spirit of justice.

True Pacifist

If Clover spares Ceroba, it might be for her own sake or because killing her will benefit no one and will only serve to harm Starlo. In much the same way, killing the monsters who harmed the five humans won’t bring any benefit to monster or human alike and will instead only fan the flames of war.

Clover came to the Underground armed in search of five humans, no doubt willing to enact justice on anyone or anything that harmed them. Instead they find a world of good-hearted people who have ample reason to distrust humans. Through acts of kindness, this distrust is cast aside and many friendships are made.

In the Wild East, Clover is presented with the classic trolley problem. Starlo emphasizes that Clover could let a large group of monsters die while incurring no personal responsibility. Clover didn’t tie those monsters to the tracks in much the same way that Clover is not personally responsible for monsters being trapped Underground. However, Clover can save them by sacrificing a single life—an anonymous other, but eventually Clover is faced with the possibility of becoming that sacrifice willingly.

Clover choosing to give up their soul is not only an ultimate act of selflessness but also interprets justice as a principle higher than any mere law or person’s whim—laws should not exist solely for their own sake because laws should be a means for the betterment of all. Any “justice” that loses sight of this higher principle has no meaning or value, so one must act in service to the greater good.

Clover doesn’t deserve to die, but sitting on the sidelines so that monsters or the next fallen human can suffer in their place would be a greater injustice in their eyes. Ultimately they decide that their own sacrifice, while tragic, will create the best outcome for everyone and act as a step towards restorative justice for monsterkind.

No Mercy

No mercy was a bit of an enigma for me initially. It starts off largely the same as Undertale’s no mercy route, only without the one-shot kills and commentary on completionism. It’s not until Steamworks when the aim of this run starts to come together. We see a role reversal where Clover chases down Axis, and Flowey of all people questions Clover’s craving for destruction.

When fighting Axis, we see him admit that he had killed a previous fallen human. Although this information can be uncovered through a hidden tape in the pacifist route, here we see this revelation enrage Clover to the point that their LV increases on the spot. Normally I’d nitpick something like this, since Undertale states that cruel intentions can make a human’s individual attacks stronger but their LV is tied to their EXP. However, I can overlook this since the rules are bent in service of a good character moment that defines the run for me.

This moment and the ending recontextualize the whole run up until now: Clover isn’t killing indiscriminately like Frisk was. On the contrary, Clover is quite discriminate with their killing: they specifically want monsters (and their creations) destroyed, but not humans. Up until now we haven’t had an Undertale protagonist who is unabashedly pro-human. Chara was very much the opposite and some lines in Deltarune imply Kris may feel similarly. Frisk seems ambivalent, but from the beginning Clover has been acting for the sake of the five missing humans.

In neutral and pacifist, Clover judges monsters on an individual basis, but in no mercy all monsters are deemed guilty. What distinguishes this run from the others, besides the brutality of Clover’s actions, is that their actions can’t solely be chalked up to dogmatic obedience of the law or their own selfish desires.

Throughout the run, Clover can choose to steal from shops, commit armed robbery against Mo, and even cheat in their “dual” with Starlo—all of these indicate some degree of underhandedness or dishonor, but Clover’s outlook is seemingly that monsters don’t deserve fair play or the benefit of the doubt.

Conversely, we see from the ending that Clover goes out of their way to free the five human souls—they don’t leave them behind or try to go on a power trip and use them for their own ends (as far as we’re aware). No mercy is a dark reflection of true pacifist, where “justice” has transcended the letter of the law as well as personal desires. Instead of “justice” being in service to the greater good of all, it’s in service to division, tribalism, and vengeance.

Even so, one can debate whether Clover’s actions are motivated more by a love of humanity or purely by a hatred of monsters. Asgore points out that Clover’s actions will only worsen the conflict between humans and monsters, and more humans will die in the future as a result.

This doesn’t seem to give Clover any pause, so one can assume they either don’t believe Asgore or they don’t care—they’re here to make monsterkind pay, and if more conflict arises then that means more opportunities for payback in the future. Make them pay and never stop making them pay.

Characters

Character writing is a crucial component of any Undertale-adjacent game and it’s often the biggest stumbling block I encounter when I’ve tried to get into fanworks. I mean that in no way as a slight against fan creators, but rather to illustrate how high the bar has been set by Toby. This is a bar that’s set just as high, if not higher than Toby’s musical abilities, imo. In all the ways that I would describe myself as a “picky eater” when it comes to Undertale content, I’d say character writing is where I’m by far the pickiest.

To give Undertale Yellow a fair and thorough analysis, I’ll be going over all of the major characters one by one to give my impressions of them as well as what I feel works and what doesn’t, starting from the top:

Clover

There isn’t a ton to say about Clover compared to the other characters, but this isn’t a bad thing. What’s apparent is that Clover has more personality and initiative on display throughout the game than Frisk did, though in some ways not as much as Kris—Clover is something of a middleground between the two canon protags. At several points we’re only given a single dialogue “choice,” meant to illustrate when Clover has made a decision on their own.

We’re told Clover’s surface-level motivation: to find the five humans who disappeared, but we’re not given any context as to what connection (if any) Clover has to these humans or what their own history is beyond one or two vague bits of flavor text.

Clover’s motivations can evolve or outright change course depending on which choices the player makes throughout the game. I already went over this in the themes section, but the fact that Yellow largely eschews the broader metatextual commentary found in Undertale means that Clover’s actions are much easier to attribute as their own in-universe decisions, rather than something imposed on them by a controlling entity.

Beyond this, we also see Clover display various quirks via their character animations, such as kicking their feet while seated, tugging on Ceroba’s sleeve, or standing on their tippy-toes when handing their hat to Martlet. We ultimately can’t say much about Clover’s overall personality or interests outside the context of game events, but these little flourishes help to make the character memorable.

By default I’d argue that Clover’s “better written” as a character than Frisk was, barring the metatextual baggage attached to the latter. Overall, not a bad start.

Dalv

I wasn’t sure what to make of Dalv initially. Confession time: Dalv was the deciding factor that led to me not checking out the Undertale Yellow demo when it first dropped. I’ve got nothing against the guy, but at the time I didn’t really “get” his character—I wasn’t sure what his motives were and I couldn’t even understand what his first lines of dialogue were meant to convey.

Even now I’m still not 100% sure whether his first line of dialogue is him rehearsing a conversation with another Ruins monster, with the monster that used to leave him corn, or with the previous human that he encountered. The fact that Dalv is known by the other monsters for talking to himself and having imaginary friends only blurs the lines further, though this doesn’t feel intentional.

This is part of a broader, though minor, issue with some of Yellow’s writing where characters will allude to events and other characters that a first-time player wouldn’t be familiar with. To be fair, Undertale does this as well early on but usually with enough context clues to help you figure things out—Papyrus namedrops Undyne and Alphys in Snowdin, but we learn from context clues within Snowdin that Undyne is a monster of authority that Papyrus knows and Alphys is a doctor and apparent inventor.

To draw a more direct comparison, we know early on that Toriel is a motherly figure and we see in her house that she has taken in other children who’ve met an unknown fate—this mystery leads to some first-timers speculating whether Toriel is the one responsible for said fate. Right before her boss fight she explains her motives more clearly--her actions, though overbearing, have been to protect Frisk. You can also infer, though not stated directly, that her actions towards Frisk may be some attempt on her part to recreate or make up for her past experiences with children that she’s lost. Later on we learn that she’s Asgore’s ex-wife and lost her two children tragically, but this is not something that needs to be spelled out in order to get a basic grasp on Toriel as a character.

Dalv, on the other hand, has an implied backstory that is never outright stated but instead needs to be pieced together from context clues given much later in the game, some of which are tied to optional secrets and randomly-generated fun events. In short, Dalv was a monster living in Snowdin who met Kanako when she and Chujin came to visit. During that visit, Dalv was attacked by a human (implied to be the one carrying the blue soul), who was later killed by Axis. It’s implied that this experience was so traumatic that Dalv retreated into the Ruins and cut off all contact with those around him. Conceptually? This is a solid backstory. No notes. It’s a shame, then, that most players don’t even seem to be aware of it after finishing the game.

Now, a character doesn’t need a tragic backstory in order to be likable or compelling. In fairness, I do enjoy the aspects of Dalv’s character that are given upfront in his house—his neatness, his social awkwardness, his creative side, and his “imaginary” friends. The problem is that we don’t see these sides of him until after his boss fight, when most players likely won’t see him again for the rest of the game.

Characters don’t need to front-load their entire personality or backstory into their first encounter, but doing the opposite isn’t helpful either. First impressions matter in fiction, and unfortunately Dalv gave very little for me to latch onto for most of his screentime. It’s really only through hindsight that I began to appreciate Dalv as a character, but even then he isn’t one of my favorites in Yellow, let alone comparable to Undertale’s core cast.

Martlet

Martlet is the most recurring character in the game aside from Flowey. Although her personality is quite different, I get the sense that her role is meant to be analogous to that of Sans and Papyrus, namely as a comic relief character that drops into your adventure regularly and presents a crucial turning point right before the game’s ending.

Martlet’s introduction gave me flashbacks of Dalv—namely that she never even interacts with Clover until the end of Snowdin, making me fear that once again a new character’s story was going to be backloaded into their final appearance before they disappear from the narrative. Thankfully this wasn’t the case. Martlet’s in it for the long haul and her boss fight is more of an introduction to her character than a conclusion.

So what do I think of Martlet? I’d say that I like her more than Dalv, or at least she’s better utilized than Dalv. Still, it took a while for Martlet to “click” with me. I think what I got hung up on was that a lot of her early gags revolve around royal guard protocol and the handbook that she keeps around. In many ways this feels at odds with what’s later established about her character, namely that she’s scatterbrained, wishy-washy, and lacks long-term goals or planning skills.

Martlet doesn’t seem like the type of person who’d follow a handbook in the first place, given how often she disregards it anyway. Perhaps the intent was for Martlet’s “arc” to be her unlearning what she’s learned from other monsters regarding humans and for her increasing disregard of the handbook to symbolize this. While I think the former is true—she says as much on the apartment rooftop at the end of the game, she seems to waffle back and forth on following her royal guard duties as the plot demands—ignoring them when it means accompanying Clover but following them when it means having to be separated from Clover.

I think this ties into a bigger issue that I have with Martlet, which is that at times she feels like she’s a character of convenience for the story rather than a character acting on a clear want or need. I think this is most blatant when viewing the various “abort” points in a no mercy run.

No matter how badly you beat Martlet in Snowdin and how resolute she is at stopping you, she’ll turn on a dime if you’ve aborted a run prior to Oasis or Hotland just so that she can play out her allotted part.

Other times it feels like she’ll show up just so that there’s someone for Clover to talk to and someone to react to what Clover sees. Now, it would be reductive of me to write off Martlet as a mere plot device—she isn’t, and any appearance otherwise is more so a flaw of the narrative than of her as a character.

You’ll notice I haven’t said much about how I feel about Martlet’s personality, her dynamic with other characters, or her overall “vibe” and honestly she’s just… fine? It’s hard for me to say anything because she feels a bit lukewarm to me—she’s not undercooked like Dalv, but she’s not as memorable as many of the other characters either. She says some funny things, but she’s not the funniest. She has some great and heartfelt lines during the pacifist ending, particularly this one:

But as a whole? She’s just fine. She's competently written, no major complaints.

I think maybe what Martlet lacks is a “larger than life” quality to her character. I’m not saying that her role within the setting should be larger than life, but rather she could use at least one exaggerated trait to help her stand out from the pack—Papyrus has his bravado, Sans has laziness and jokes, Undyne has intensity, Alphys has awkwardness, and Mettaton has his showmanship. Not every Undertale character is like this, but I feel like Martlet was intended to fit a similar mold—we catch glimpses of it, like her overly long “P.S.” messages amended to her first puzzle, but imo she doesn’t go far enough consistently enough (assuming that was the intent).

One last thing that I want to touch on is Martlet’s contingency plan for Clover that comes into play in the No Mercy run, where she injects herself and becomes “Zenith Martlet,” as fans have dubbed her. Conceptually I’m fine with the idea of Martlet having an ace up her sleeve that she’s too indecisive to actually use in most scenarios.

This feels in-character for her and I can even look past a scatterbrained character with no planning skills having a plan like this since it’s largely Martlet appropriating another character’s plan. The main thing that I find questionable about Martlet’s plan is that it relies on Alphys’ determination extraction experiments.

We the audience know what that is, but how does Martlet know about them or even what to look for? We do know that underground residents were asked to donate fallen down monsters to the lab, but seemingly nothing is revealed to the public about the nature of the experiments. Even Ceroba, who had a vested interest in learning all she could, seems to be completely in the dark. In the pacifist ending, Martlet offers to investigate the experiment for Ceroba, implying she didn’t know the full story either. I also question how Martlet would’ve been able to venture into the true lab seemingly without running into a single amalgamate, given that she never brings them up in pacifist.

Now, my issue here is not the supposed “plothole” that this creates. My main issue is that a more reasonable solution was sitting right there: Chujin’s monster serum. I legitimately wonder if earlier drafts of this game’s story had Martlet using Chujin’s serum instead of Alphys’ extract, because the former would bring everything full-circle and it would tie in more naturally with the flashback scene of Martlet with Chujin.

Now, the obvious answer is that Chujin’s serum was never completed, but I can’t help but wonder if perhaps this wasn’t always the case. During Ceroba’s flashback, we can see a case with two syringes—one full and the other seemingly empty.

This is just my own speculation, but I can’t help but wonder if it was once intended for Ceroba to use one syringe on Kanako and for Martlet to have taken the other. Obviously this doesn’t jive with the story as it’s currently written—Martlet is clearly taken aback when she learns of the experiments that Chujin conducted. Still, part of me wonders if an earlier draft had Chujin entrust Martlet with a prototype of the serum to keep her safe.

I think it’d be fitting if the no mercy route were to reveal that Martlet was a lot more privy to Chujin’s less savory actions than she let on, and that even in pacifist she kept this knowledge to herself of self-preservation or shame. This would fit with a line of hers in the no mercy fight after her flashback of Chujin:

It would be fitting for the NM run if we were to learn that there was always a seed of doubt and mistrust between Martlet and Clover, even during the best of times.

The Feisty Five

I’ll be brief, but when these guys first showed up my first thought was “great, I’ll never remember all these new characters” and I’m glad I was wrong. While they don’t have quite the depth that the main characters do, they’re all memorable in their own way. They’re also the first characters in the game to get a serious chuckle out of me and I wish we got more of them. If we’re comparing quirky miniboss squads, these guys clear the Snowdin canine unit and Sweet Cap’n Cakes. There, I said it.

Starlo

This is the coldest take ever and I won’t even try to bury the lede: Starlo is the best Undertale Yellow character. He’s funny, he’s charming, he’s flawed, he has layers, he has great moments of pathos with Ceroba, and he has a backstory that isn’t tragic yet still feels necessary to his character.

Here’s another cold take: Dunes/Wild East is the best part of the game. Dark Ruins and Snowdin, while not bad, still feel very much like typical fare for a romhack or fangame. Wild East is the first area that truly feels like Undertale, which is ironic since it’s also the first completely-original area.

By extension, Starlo is the one original character who feels most like he could be an Undertale character. It’s easy to take for granted all the little nuances that Toby injects into his characters to make them stand out, which is probably why I felt so lukewarm towards Yellow’s cast up until Starlo’s introduction.

One thing I admire about Undertale’s core cast is that each character has their own unique manner of speaking, to the point where you can identify a character’s dialogue without needing a dialogue portrait or typer sound. Starlo shares this trait, speaking in a semi-stereotypical drawl while occasionally misspelling words (FEISTYJ, dual vs duel). It’s a small touch but it goes a long way to endearing me to the characters in these games.

Although Starlo is mostly a comedic character, he still has plenty of depth. Another hallmark trait of Toby Fox characters is that they have multiple sides to them that seem contradictory at first glance but actually tell you something profound about the character (Papyrus’ bravado masking his loneliness, Sans’ joking to cope with his harsh outlook, Alphys’ awkwardness stemming from her guilt).

Starlo also fits this trend, first presented as a dashing and charismatic lawman that is nothing more than the mask of a nerdy and immature farmboy. And I would say Starlo’s fatal flaw is immaturity—not because of his interests, but because of his attitude. Starlo treats his friends like playthings, takes what he wants from Clover and Martlet when he first meets them, and he acts utterly irresponsible with his (or rather, Blackjack’s) firearms.

We learn from Starlo’s mom that he once pined after Ceroba and that he took a long time to move on.

It’s also implied that Starlo had a grudge against Chujin, which could have been due to the two having differing opinions on human culture or Starlo’s own jealousy over Ceroba.

We can also see this immaturity reach an ugly conclusion if Ceroba is killed in the so-called false or “flawed” pacifist ending. Starlo previously trained Clover to carry the weight of taking a life and also taught them the value of sacrificing one life to save many, but Starlo immediately throws this out the window as soon as Clover acts (as far as he’s aware) in self-defense.

This is a case where I’d argue that Starlo is right but for the wrong reasons. Starlo’s not so much recanting his earlier philosophy as he’s simply upset because someone he cared about was sacrificed this time—had it been a stranger or a ne’er-do-well like Vengeful Virgil then I doubt Starlo would’ve parted ways with Clover so bitterly. That’s just my interpretation, anyway.

None of this is to say that Starlo is always immature. When it comes to his interactions with Ceroba he’s often the most sensitive and emotionally-mature person in the room, which is a trait that we only see grow in him after he gets a reality check in the Wild East. When trying to talk Ceroba down we see Starlo give his respect to Chujin, despite their past differences, and he’s patient and understanding to the utmost once the fight is finally over.

This doesn’t mean that Starlo is a doormat for Ceroba either, as we earlier see him confront her and call her out when he suspects foul play involving Kanako—he clearly cares for Ceroba a lot but won’t sit idly by while she ruins her life or the lives of others.

Honestly, Starlo’s bond with Ceroba is a contender for the most wholesome relationship (platonic or otherwise) in the entire franchise—yes, I’m actually saying that there’s an aspect of this game’s writing that rivals and perhaps even surpasses Undertale and Deltarune.

I realize a lot of my analysis of Yellow’s writing has skewed negative, but as a reminder I am grading this game on a curve because it’s a companion piece to one of the best-written games of all time. To give Yellow a bit more praise, I think it might actually do a better job than Undertale at portraying characters’ moments of vulnerability and allowing them to cut to the emotional core of an issue, as seen with Starlo and Ceroba’s late-game interactions as well as Clover’s ultimate fate and its aftermath.

Unlike Undertale, there was no moment in Yellow that quite made me cry, but moments in the pacifist ending came close. I consider this quite the feat because the final outcome of Yellow’s pacifist ending is easily predicted from the start and the way that it plays out is a concept that would be difficult for any writer to sell. Yellow was backed into a corner by being a prequel, whereas Undertale had free reign to tell whatever story it wanted. In many ways I feel Yellow’s ending did just about the best job it could with the hand that it was dealt—it’s not perfect, and in one or two areas I feel it overplays its hand (which I’ll cover shortly), but the writing succeeds far more than I would’ve thought it would have with such a concept.

Axis

This’ll be another brief entry, but I wanted to include Axis since he always seems to get left out of fanworks. I enjoy Axis but I’m not sure I fully understand him. His overall arc and goals are very straightforward, but for the life of me I can’t really nail down what his personality is. He’s funny and memorable, which goes a long way for me, but I can’t really wax poetic about him beyond saying that he’s your stock quirky robot. It is a bit of a shame that, like Dalv, he’s largely isolated to one area and has little to no interaction with the rest of the cast.

I suppose one thing that bothers me is how robots in this game aren’t treated as people, which feels at odds with the broader themes of Undertale. We’re taught that amalgamates and even a soulless flower are still people, so having robots that lack free will and don’t even count as EXP kinda rubs me the wrong way. I generally don’t like when fictional works treat sentient robots as less than human or “soulless.” In my view, the true point behind sentient robot stories isn’t to debate whether robots have souls, but rather to question what a soul is and who gets to decide who has one and who doesn’t, or whether they exist at all.

Robots in fiction are meant to be a reflection of humans, and the robots in Yellow could have been presented as a reflection of video game characters as a whole—can free will exist when you’re programmed to fulfill a function? Unlike in our world, souls are a scientifically measurable quantity in Undertale’s universe, so I guess Yellow’s portrayal of “soulless” robots works on a technicality, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Ceroba

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Ceroba is the most controversial character in the game, and I find my own opinions of her (and her family) to be polarized as well. In a neutral run she’s barely noticeable but in pacifist she eventually becomes the main focus of the story. I’ve seen some people criticize Ceroba’s level of focus, but I’d liken it to Alphys and Flowey’s elevated level of focus in Undertale’s true pacifist ending. In other words, it doesn’t bother me.

Ceroba’s personality is a bit of an anomaly for me in the sense that she’s not quirky like a typical Undertale character, and yet I feel that aspect of her works for the story that Yellow tells. Previously I mentioned how Martlet didn’t really “wow” me as a character in part due to her lacking a sufficiently “larger than life” personality, but I feel Ceroba succeeds where Martlet didn’t for me because (1) Ceroba is clearly not intended to be a comic relief character and (2) Ceroba often acts as the straight man to other characters like Starlo and the Steamworks machines, whereas Martlet often feels like she has no one to work off of her besides Clover (for whatever that’s worth). In many cases, Ceroba’s understated reaction to things or her attempts to parse or explain them rationally end up making scenes funnier, such as when Starlo cuts off her piece on the ethical quandary of his trolley problem.

Having said that, I do think it’s a bit of a missed opportunity that the game doesn’t expand more on Ceroba’s own interests or quirks outside of her family. While showcasing a character’s hobbies can sometimes feel like checking an item off of a list, it helps add a bit of texture to a character that makes them that much more believable.

Not knowing this information doesn’t “ruin” Ceroba or anything, but it’s a bit disappointing that most of her “talk” dialogue in the steamworks, while interesting, pertains to her immediate surroundings or her family and friends instead of herself. The most we get is that she used to have a gym membership and (if I recall) she was once a waitress. We later get to see her room and all that’s in there is a bed, a photo, and her clothes. After seeing all the loving detail put into Papyrus and Alphys’ living areas in Undertale, it’s such a shame to see Ceroba’s opportunity squandered.

Oddly enough, if there’s one existing bit of characterization that I think could’ve been retooled sightly, it’d be Ceroba’s dynamic with Clover. Ceroba is a mother who lost a child around Clover’s age (or younger) but she’s also distrustful of humans and had a husband who hated them. You’d think that Ceroba would react strongly to Clover one way or the other, either distrusting them as a human or having a soft spot for them due to Clover being a child, or feeling conflicted between these two outlooks. Instead Ceroba seems utterly casual around Clover.

Initially her laid back attitude served as a nice contrast to the overbearing wackiness of Starlo and the Feisty Five and helped endear Ceroba to me as a character, but it begins to feel a bit out of place when she says things like "I respect the hell out of you" to a child.

Maybe I’m overthinking it, but the way Ceroba treats Clover makes sense for how she’d treat a stranger who was a monster, given what we see of her personality, but I’m just not sure it makes sense that she’d treat Clover that way specifically. I’d be fine with it if the narrative unpacked the idea—maybe she’s casual around Clover because she’s too world-weary to muster a strong reaction, or maybe she’s forcing herself to act casual to hide her true plans for Clover, or maybe she never fully agreed with Chujin’s rhetoric on humans and is acting against them out of pragmatism, or maybe she never liked kids until she had one of her own, etc.

Speaking of kids, I guess there’s no avoiding the elephant in the room: Ceroba’s backstory. If I had to guess, I’d wager this is probably the most controversial portion of Undertale Yellow’s entire narrative, and I have a lot to say about it.

To start, I’ll say that I really like the way that (most) of Ceroba’s backstory is doled out to the player piece by piece over the course of a playthrough. As early as Snowdin you hear mention of Chujin, then in Wild East you can piece together from various bits of dialogue that Ceroba had a family that she’s reluctant to speak about. Steamworks fleshes out Ceroba and Chujin’s pasts considerably, albeit mostly hidden behind optional talk dialogue.

Steamworks also has one of my favorite scenes in the game when Ceroba learns why Chujin got fired—it technically doesn’t contribute anything major to the main plot, but it helps illustrate Chujin’s flawed methods that Ceroba willfully overlooks so that she can double down on furthering his “legacy.”

Right before Hotland is when the other shoe drops and Starlo confronts Ceroba—this was the moment that had me hooked on uncovering the mystery of Ceroba’s past. This leads right into the abandoned Ketsukane estate, which is another of my favorite sequences in the game. I was always a huge fan of Undertale’s True Lab and Ceroba’s house scratches that itch for me. The two locations have a very different tone and style of gameplay (or lack of), but both are dripping with unsettling atmosphere and environmental storytelling. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always been creeped out by abandoned houses—not decrepit haunted mansions per se, but places that were abandoned so recently that you’re not sure whether someone might still be lurking inside.

Unfortunately, I start to run out of nice things to say about this storyline as soon as Clover and Martlet enter the estate’s basement. Before we descend into that chasm, I want to make one thing perfectly clear: I am not a “Cinema Sins” kind of guy. I do not go into a work of fiction looking for inconsistencies to complain about. My philosophy is that I can overlook the occasional plothole or retcon or bending of the rules if it’s done in service to a good story or memorable character moment.

If anything, I find it annoying when a story tries too hard to cover all its bases with exposition out of fear that some smartass is going to find some plot detail to complain about—this just draws more attention to potential “plotholes” that could’ve easily been ignored. I don’t care if the eagles could’ve carried the ring to Mordor and I don’t care whether the ark of the covenant would’ve killed the bad guys in Raiders if Indy wasn’t there. At the end of the day, if a story is well told then I can overlook things like that, and if it’s not well told then my mind wanders and I begin to notice those sorts of things, but those nitpicks (more often than not) are not the underlying cause of the problem—lack of a compelling story or believable characters is.

So, getting back to the basement. Here we see Chujin’s tapes and the plot begins to lose me. Chujin wants to create a serum that will strengthen monsterkind and give normal monsters the power of a boss monster. All well and good. Where I start to take issue is the convoluted method of creating this serum and what it means for the story.

As a point of comparison, I always thought that the rule in Undertale of requiring a human soul plus a monster soul to pass through the barrier felt a little convoluted and contrived, but it seems to exist for the sake of forcing a “kill or be killed” confrontation between Frisk and Asgore as well as explaining why Asriel passed through the barrier with Chara’s soul but (presumably) Chara alone couldn’t. In this way, the rule acts in service to the story and creates memorable character moments with Alphys and Asgore and gives Frisk a stronger temptation to kill Asgore during their fight. The two soul rule is a bit clunky, but I can begrudgingly accept it. Chujin’s serum fulfills a similar purpose but is clumsier in its execution.

To start, Chujin’s serum also requires a human soul and a boss monster soul—this makes sense, as the goal is to turn monsters into boss monsters and one can assume that human souls have some kind of preserving property that would keep the serum stable.

On top of that, the human soul must also be “pure of heart, uncorrupted.” I thought nothing of this line initially until it was reiterated during Ceroba’s flashback and I realized why it was in the story.

This concept bothers me for a number of reasons and it’s technically not even a plothole or inconsistency. It feels out of character for Chujin to frame things this way given how he views all humans as evil, and this purity rule seems to exist solely as a plot device to explain why Ceroba enacts her plan in pacifist but not in neutral runs. I feel like the story could’ve come up with a more organic method of explaining why Ceroba couldn’t be present or was otherwise occupied during the steamworks section in a neutral run, plus I feel like she wouldn’t let something like “purity” get in the way of attempting her plan if she was that dead-set on it, given how rarely humans appear in the Underground.

Lastly, we learn that Chujin and Kanako are both boss monsters, or at least “carry the boss monster gene,” which is an odd concept to me. You could argue that this revelation technically doesn’t contradict anything established in Undertale, but like the pure soul rule it just bugs me. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of the early days when the fandom thought that all bosses in Undertale were boss monsters instead of just the Dreemurr family. I won’t waste time rambling about the particulars of boss monster lore, but I think what bothers me with Chujin and Kanako is that it feels like yet another contrivance to explain why Ceroba’s actions had to involve Kanako specifically.

I’ve mentioned that Undertale’s two soul rule feels somewhat like a contrivance. One could argue that the Barrier requiring seven human souls to shatter is also a contrivance, but I think what makes that easier to swallow is that it’s a rule that’s established fairly early in the game. The reveals of the Barrier’s two “rules” are spaced apart from one another and each are given dramatic weight and time for the player to dwell on their implications.

The mechanics of Chujin’s serum, on the other hand, rely on multiple contrivances that are all spilled out onto the floor at once in the final stretch of the game right before they become necessary to explain Ceroba’s motivations, which only makes their narrative purpose feel all the more transparent.

Getting back to Ceroba, we’re left with her plan and what she did to Kanako. Now, I’m going to give the benefit of the doubt here and say that I don’t mind the particulars of whether Ceroba’s plan involving Clover would have worked or not—as far as I’m concerned, Chujin’s plans could have been doomed from the start even with a “pure” soul. The point wasn’t whether Chujin’s plan would’ve worked but rather how Ceroba’s grief has turned her own life (and by extension the lives of her family) into a sunk cost—she feels that she has to go through with her plan or else all her family’s suffering was for nothing.

In many ways this makes the contrived requirements for Chujin’s serum feel less necessary, since the serum’s mechanics could’ve been kept vague or it could’ve even been implied that Ceroba was simply repeating the same experiments as before hoping for different results.

I’ve put it off long enough, but it’s time to talk about that scene. You know the one: the big reveal flashback at the climax of Ceroba’s pacifist fight. Again, I’ll try to be charitable and say that I don’t absolutely hate the idea of Ceroba testing Chujin’s serum on Kanako. I mean, I would hate the act on a moral level if she were a real person, but I don’t hate the idea as a story concept. Still, my charity has its limits.

I’ll just come right out and say it: the scene where Ceroba injects Kanako is hard to watch—not because it’s tragic, but because it’s just not a good scene. My original write-up for this part was far harsher, but I’ll spare the vitriol. This scene has been memed to hell and back by people more critical of the game and… I can’t disagree with them—this is my least-favorite scene in the game.

(Image from ScottFalco's "Undertale Yellow with a side of salt" video)

The most obvious criticism I’ve seen is the fact that Chujin specifically told Ceroba not to do the exact thing that she does. That’s a fair point and honestly, yeah, I think the simplest writing fix would’ve been for that line not to have been in Chujin’s tape to begin with so that Ceroba doesn’t look willfully ignorant on top of being recklessly negligent.

Tbh, it feels a little out of character for Chujin to say something like that because I got the impression that Chujin wasn’t always the most thoughtful or attentive dad. His own tapes mention that he didn’t keep an eye on Kanako when a monster was attacked in Snowdin, and even then Chujin was more preoccupied with tracking down the human than with comforting his own daughter. He made nice things for Kanako, sure, but even that could be explained as him being more wrapped up in the work than her. It’d be wrong to say that he didn’t care about Kanako at all, but I got the impression that he had the wrong priorities and it’d be fitting if Ceroba’s own actions followed that pattern.

That being said, I can’t solely blame Chujin’s warning for why Ceroba’s flashback doesn’t work. The scene as a whole is just dreadful, even when viewed in isolation from the rest of the narrative. There’s so many issues big and small with this scene, like Kanako being able to read the word “corruption” but not “extract,” Ceroba’s immediate turnaround after the slightest prodding, or the predictable outcome of the whole thing that’s dragged out for what feels like an eternity.

You know, I’ve heard some people critical of Undertale say that the true pacifist ending to that game felt maudlin—I disagree, but in some places I could see where they were coming from. Calling the Kanako flashback maudlin would honestly feel like letting it off easy. If I wanted to be mean I’d call it manipulative, but honestly I think a more fitting term would be a comedy of errors. It feels less like tragedy and more like dark humor bordering on self-parody of what an Undertale character’s sad backstory would be.

So what should’ve been done differently? The easy and safer option I’ve seen suggested would be for Kanako to stumble across Chujin’s research and inject herself, with Ceroba feeling guilt for allowing it to happen. I would prefer this over what we got, but I said earlier that I don’t completely hate the concept of Ceroba experimenting on Kanako, so how can that idea possibly work? Besides getting rid of Chujin’s overly-specific warning, I honestly think the best fix for this scene would simply be to not show it. Don’t remove the events from the backstory, but just don’t reenact them onscreen. Normally it’s better to show than tell, but there have always been exceptions to that rule.

I’m reminded of how Undertale didn’t show us Asriel’s death or the Dreemurrs’ divorce, and only offered a glimpse of Chara’s buttercup plan. These were cases where less was more—letting the players imagine these events in their heads sidestepped any potential tastelessness and seeing the aftermath of these events and how they affected the characters involved painted a vivid enough picture. I think Ceroba would be a perfect fit for a similar approach.

If we need to see something, then either portray it via montage like Asriel’s memories or only portray Kanako finding Chujin’s basement and Ceroba stumbling upon her after she’s viewed the tapes. Ceroba could then explain to Clover that Kanako pleaded with her for months or even years to let her help with Chujin’s experiments. With time Kanako only become more stubborn and their relationship more strained. The whole time Ceroba knew that only Kanako’s soul would work for the experiment but she tried to remain in denial and hope an alternative would present itself. After countless research dead-ends used up all but one vial of the leftover human soul extract, Ceroba gave in to Kanako’s demands in a moment of weakness. And that’s all it took—one moment she was there and the next she was gone.

Not to toot my own horn, but I feel this kind of summary would’ve worked better because it leaves things up to interpretation. Was Kanako still a child when this happened or was it many years later? Did Kanako understand what she was signing up for? Is Ceroba’s recounting of the events reliable or is she merely rationalizing her actions after the fact? It’s not perfect and it’s still somewhat “safe” compared to the game’s swing for the fences. Unfortunately, a big swing means nothing if it misses, and even less if the bat goes flying and hits someone.

Despite what I just said, the Kanako scene doesn’t ruin Ceroba for me as a character. It blemishes her boss fight for me, though I have other issues with that fight besides the flashback (as I’ve mentioned). When thinking back on this game’s characters and story, I mostly just ignore the particulars of the Kanako scene unless if I need to sit through it again. I view it as the equivalent of a flubbed line read or a boom mic visible in a shot--I can see the pieces that were meant to be there underneath the lackluster execution.

Surprisingly, Ceroba’s still my 2nd favorite original character in Yellow, though a lot of this is owed to her dynamic with Star, and part of me wonders if I like her more for the character she could’ve been rather than the character we got. Still, I’ll always remember the buildup to the mystery of Ceroba’s backstory, even if the reveal failed to deliver.

Flowey

Flowey is one of my favorite Undertale characters as well as the only character from Undertale featured in a recurring lead role in Yellow, so I was curious to see how this game would handle him.

When this game was first announced, many fans debated the “canonicity” of whether Flowey would have encountered the human who fell prior to Frisk and whether Flowey would retain his save abilities in such a scenario. Often this debate overshadowed the other aspects of Flowey’s portrayal, so to avoid doing the same, I’ll just say that I don’t believe Toby ever intended for Flowey’s save abilities to function in relation to a human like how they’re portrayed in Undertale Yellow. However, I don’t take issue with this “lore contradiction” because I feel that the way Flowey is utilized in this aspect works for the story that Yellow is trying to tell. Flowey’s role is to limit Clover’s own powers and to keep their story on-track.

It’s easier to tell a prequel story where the main character is destined to die if that character doesn’t also have the ability to return from the dead at will or turn back time, so having Flowey fill that power vacuum makes sense. Despite this, Clover is still given plenty of agency. Flowey only railroads their story in two notable instances: whenever Clover is going to live with Toriel or when Martlet offers to have Clover come live with her in a neutral run. Both outcomes would be a bit of a cop-out for the game’s main conflict and would be the boring option as well (sorry fanfic authors)—Flowey agrees with this sentiment, making it feel justified that he’d intervene.

Having gotten that out of the way, what do I think of Flowey’s portrayal? Compared to Undertale, it’s interesting to think how much more screentime Flowey receives in Undertale Yellow, despite Flowey being the main antagonist and ostensible central character of Undertale. Since Flowey’s story can’t be allowed to conclude in Yellow, his character is kept in some degree of stasis—in many ways, Yellow’s portrayal can be seen as “Flowey, but more.” That might sound like a pejorative, but for the most part I think it works here. Flowey’s interactions with Clover honestly make him feel a little underutilized in Undertale by comparison.

That said, Undertale was a game intended to have moments of isolation, so having Flowey chime in at every save point likely would have diminished that effect and also made Flowey less threatening due to overexposure. I think Yellow can get away with giving more screentime to Flowey because for most of the game his mask hasn’t dropped—he has every bit of ill intent that he did in Undertale, but for the sake of his plans he has to play along at being your friend for far longer than he did in Undertale.

The result is that very little of what Flowey says in Yellow can be taken at face value once you know his aims. Until that point, however, I think the game does a good enough job at keeping you guessing as to how far gone Flowey is and at what point in his moral decline this story is meant to take place. If someone played this game without playing Undertale first, they’d probably chalk up Flowey’s mannerisms to him just having an odd and occasionally morbid sense of humor, which isn’t far from the truth.

One thing that I appreciate about Yellow’s portrayal of Flowey is his dynamic with Clover—the game manages to thread the needle of not making their relationship an also-ran of Flowey and Frisk or Flowey and “Chara” from Undertale’s No Mercy run. For most of the game you get the sense that Flowey views Clover as a means to an end that he’s forced to humor and put up with, but that deep down he likely has some small sentimentality towards them (mainly shown in the pacifist ending).

I think Flowey’s relationship with Clover in neutral and pacifist gives us a look into how he likely acted around the other monsters of the underground back when he tried to solve their problems or form bonds with them—he can’t fully relate to them but is willing to fake it ‘til he makes it, or rather until they make it to the outcome that he wants. If I were to draw a more direct comparison, I think Flowey’s bond with Clover might be the most similar to his bond with Papyrus—he’s implied to have spent a lot of time with each of them and found them each amusing in their own regard, but ultimately Flowey isn’t above using them or casting them aside.

What I find especially compelling about Flowey and Clover is the turn that their partnership takes in Yellow’s No Mercy route. Here Flowey initially seems to be cautiously optimistic about Clover’s rampage, but as his advice is ignored he grows increasingly exasperated with their actions. It’s strange to say, but it’s a refreshing dynamic to see Flowey outright grow to hate his human companion—while he voiced plenty of insults and disdain towards Frisk, it came off more as condescension or an attempt at intimidation.

In Yellow, however, you can really feel Flowey becomng absolutely fed up with Clover, not just for their pushiness and disobedience in the no mercy route but also for the hundreds of runs where Flowey has had to string them along and, in the process, be strung along himself. This development is much better-paced in Yellow than Flowey’s turn toward fearing Chara in Undertale—it’s amazing what can be done when you’re allowed to have more than four conversations with a character.

That said, I don’t think there’s any one Flowey moment in Yellow that quite lives up to Flowey’s speech in New Home or the conclusion to his story in the form of Asriel—those two moments will forever be peak Flowey to me. When comparing Undertale Flowey to Yellow Flowey, it’s a case of quantity vs quality, but in this case the “quantity” is still pretty good.

If I had to voice any complaints for Yellow Flowey beyond a broad “it’s not as good as something near-perfect”, I will say that when Flowey’s mask does drop in Yellow, he doesn’t sound quite as crass or childish as he does in Undertale—something I feel is important to him as a villain, but this is a very minor nitpick since he has plenty of lines in this game that go hard. I didn’t even notice the difference in speech styles until I went back and watched footage of Undertale and realized “oh yeah, I guess he sounds a bit more childish here.”

I suppose there’s one other thing I should discuss regarding Flowey. This is a topic that I intentionally saved for last since I find it’s a perfect capstone for Undertale Yellow and my opinions on it: Flowey’s boss fight. If ever there was a case of “Flowey, but more,” it would be this fight. For years Undertale fans have speculated and wished and wondered what a fight against plain old vanilla Flowey would be like. Countless fangames and fan battles have tried.

Yellow opts for an unorthodox approach by centering the entire fight within Flowey’s mind—this framing is used to its fullest and then some, allowing for interface-screws and psychedelic attack patterns showcasing Flowey’s twistedness, his self-loathing, and his various forms of retraumatization.

Players are attacked by phantoms of any bosses that they killed, complete with Floweytale-esque corrupted designs. This aspect of the fight dovetails perfectly with Flowey’s comment about only enjoying the moments of Clover’s run where they “gave in” to their violent urges, and clearly these moments are etched in Flowey’s memories for Clover to relive.

Afterwards we’re treated to a peek behind the curtain at Flowey’s subconscious, featuring a collage of his first runs as a flower—this whole sequence adapts my favorite Flowey moment from Undertale while not tipping its hand too much by revealing Flowey’s true identity, as it easily could have in less-skilled hands. We’re given just enough to ponder without spoiling things for the mythical gamer who tries playing Yellow before Undertale.

Next up is a brief horror fakeout where Clover “reunites” with Martlet. I don’t have much to add other than the telegraphing being a bit obvious but not in a way that majorly detracts from the moment. Overall it just makes me consider that this fight as a whole might be scarier than anything in Undertale

Finally we have the climax of the fight. I’m not quite sure what to call it. Photoshop Flowey 2.0? To be brief, the visual spectacle shown in this phase surpasses not only the visuals of any sequence (so far) in Undertale or Deltarune, but I think it’s unlikely that future chapters of Deltarune will feature anything with visual flare on the level of this finale.

That’s probably the highest praise I’ve given to Undertale Yellow so far, which is what makes this next part so difficult. I’m sure this will go down as my hottest take in this entire review, and it breaks my heart to say it given the clear effort on display from the developers, but…

I did not care for the Flowey fight.

How can I even say that? Was all of my prior praise just a lie? Not at all—I meant every word of it and then some. So how is it possible that I didn’t like this fight? You’ll notice that I broke down the Flowey fight into its individual phases and aspects, praising each in isolation. You might also notice that my praise was aimed at the spectacle and underlying concepts of the fight, which are fantastic, but I had very little to say about the actual experience of playing the fight—and that’s because I found the fight to be an utter slog to get through. In hindsight, it might actually be my least-favorite fight in the entire Undertale franchise if we’re solely talking about the gameplay. I’d rather fight a Jerry than have to fight this thing again.

I’ll admit up front that I sucked at this fight when I played it. I sucked at all of Yellow’s final bosses and initially didn’t care for their gameplay. I eventually warmed up to Ceroba and Martlet’s fights as I got better and learned to beat them without needing easy mode, but the Flowey fight never clicked for me in the same way despite arguably being the easiest of the three.

So what’s the problem? There are little things here and there—I found some of the phase 1 attacks a bit obnoxious to dodge, though nothing major. I found the collision detection in the vine chase sequences to be a bit clunky, resulting in one or two deaths that felt unearned, but none of these issues are enough to sink the fight.

No, two major missteps that come to my mind are length and repetition.

Out of curiosity, after my neutral run I looked up gameplay videos of the Yellow Flowey fight and the Omega Flowey fight from Undertale: on average, Yellow’s fight took players twice as long to complete as the Omega Flowey fight. The difference is so stark that a “no hit” speedrun of Yellow’s fight with dialogue skipped, the intro cutscene edited out, and no attacks from killed bosses is still longer than an Omega fight played normally.

I want to be clear that my criticism here is not “it’s different from the Omega fight, therefore it’s bad.” The Omega Flowey fight, in my opinion, already drags at times, and it’s probably my least-favorite final boss in Undertale despite having the most effort put into it. I already take (minor) issue with the Omega Flowey fight for overstaying its welcome, but Yellow’s fight is beyond the pale. One nice thing I can say is that Yellow’s fight at least tries to break itself up with an intermission of sorts in the middle, but the whole experience is still technically one fight, so in some ways this just feels like padding, particularly the Martlet scene.

To give a non-Undertale point of comparison, the Flowey fight reminded me (oddly enough) of Darth Vader’s hallway fight scene in the film Rogue One. For many fans this scene was considered the highlight of the entire film, but a vocal minority at the time criticized this scene for being irrelevant to the film’s central characters and unnecessary to the overall plot—it was just something thrown in for fan service that could have been cut at no detriment to the overall narrative. While I can understand the latter perspective, I have no issues with the Vader scene at all—if anything I think it enhances the third act’s feeling of desperation. but overall it’s just a cool scene and that alone makes its inclusion feel warranted.

So why do I feel different about Vader’s scene compared to Flowey’s fight? After all, both are action-heavy “scenes” featuring the main villain of the original installment doing what they do best at the end of a prequel that wasn’t centered on them. The difference is that Vader’s scene is less than 2 minutes long. It’s closer to 60-90 seconds if we only count the portion where he’s onscreen and it’s less than 1% of the film’s runtime. Conversely, there’s a no commentary neutral run of Undertale Yellow on Youtube where the Flowey fight takes up about 15% of the overall run. Had Vader’s scene been that long, even if it were expertly shot and choreographed while being broken up with bits of pathos, I would’ve been checking my watch and waiting for it to be over.

Still, I could forgive the Flowey fight’s length if it had variety and was building toward something. Surely this is true of the Yellow fight, right? Well, I would say that the Yellow Flowey fight probably has the widest variety of total attacks in the game—it has six unique photoshop phases as well as copied attacks from previous bosses in the first phase. The problem is that these are part of his total attacks but not necessarily his most common attacks—half of the ones I just listed are optional depending on who you killed and the other half are for brief one-off phases.

For the majority of the fight you’ll be dealing with Flowey’s other attacks: his standard attacks, which are recycled ad nauseam with little variation and no iteration. In phase 1 this isn’t too noticeable if you only killed one or two bosses, but if you killed most (like I did) then every unique boss attack is sandwiched between a standard Flowey attack and a vine chase sequence, which really bloats the runtime of the fight. Still, I’d argue that phase 2 is the worse culprit in this regard.

For those who’ve played, let me know if this sounds familiar to you: four vines shoot up out of the floor, four piranha plants emerge twice spitting up bullets, two hands scroll across the screen lazily scattering pellets, three guns materialize and fire at your location, a bomb with an “X” or “+” shape detonates, a small circle with spikes orbiting it homes in on your position, and two cowboys riding horses gallop by until one explodes, all while the song “Afterlife” plays from the beginning. Now tell me: which part of the fight am I referring to? If you guessed “more than half of all attacks in the 2nd phase,” then you’d be right!

Now, some of you might be questioning why I’m complaining about lack of “variety” when I just listed off seven individual attacks and earlier I complained about Yellow bosses using too many types of attacks. Well, the problem is that these same seven attacks are all used in sequence with each other over and over and over with no progression—each phase of this lasts 25-30 seconds and it’s repeated at least 7 times in the fight (more if you die).

Combined, no joke, this one sequence of attacks lasts 3 minutes, longer than an entire pacifist Toriel fight (dialogue included). Don’t believe me? Look it up on Youtube. You spend at least 10% of the Flowey fight dodging this one attack pattern. You literally spend an entire Toriel fight dodging just one prolonged attack pattern. And as the cherry on top, “Afterlife” always starts over from the beginning each time this sequence plays—just to drill into your head how repetitive this all is.

To be fair, Omega Flowey has a similar problem of repeating a ~25 second attack phase multiple times, but I find it more bearable there because:

Omega Flowey randomly uses 3-4 types of attacks from his larger arsenal per phase instead of trying to cram nearly every single one in every time like in Yellow, which (ironically) makes the Omega sequences feel less samey

Omega Flowey makes use of loading, which spices up the encounters by feeling unfair initially until you notice the save messages in the corner that telegraph them

Each of Omega’s sequences has a Fight button that, though optional, acts as a goal and motivator, as opposed to the player just impotently killing time until the phase ends, and

Omega Flowey’s music doesn’t start over from the beginning each time he attacks.

Those last two might seem minor since they don’t directly affect the overall gameplay, but I honestly think they’re the most crucial because they give the player a goal and a feeling of progression, even if it’s illusory.

Probably my biggest issue with Yellow’s Flowey fight, even more so than the length and the repetition, is that it ultimately doesn’t go anywhere. It pretty much can’t be allowed to go anywhere due to the aforementioned “stasis” of Flowey’s character arc. Flowey can’t suffer a grand defeat or learn a lesson that impacts his character in any major way, which only makes me question why this fight is here at all.

Omega Flowey, while feeling hopeless and repetitive in some places, has a clear progression, goal, and conclusion that leads to Frisk either reinforcing Flowey’s beliefs or causing Flowey to seemingly question them and offer a path to the true pacifist ending. There’s a reason why the song “Finale” is considered an underrated gem—because it shows a clear turning point and building momentum in that fight. I’m not saying Yellow’s fight needed to copy this same moment, but instead it just peters out with nothing to show for itself. I mean, do I even need to say anything when the game itself basically makes my case for me?

So what would have been better? Personally, I think the first phase of the fight is largely fine as-is. Phase 1 is by no means without its flaws, but it’s the phase that’s most relevant to Clover and the overall story on a thematic level—the boss attacks are a consequence of Clover’s actions and the vine chases (though repetitive) are meant to symbolize Clover’s endlessly repeated runs. And the thing is? The pieces are already there for the fight to end in a more natural way that respects the player’s time.

If the fight were to be given a page 1 rewrite, then I would end it at the section with Flowey’s subconscious that shows his past. Why?

It’s a great scene on its own that should be kept,

The scene would actually be relevant to the fight instead of it going unremarked on like it currently is (seriously, Flowey has nothing to say about it?),

It would fit the central conceit of the fight—Flowey is able to peer into Clover’s memories but Clover can do the same to Flowey and that scares him, and as a result...

It would be a more believable and character-driven “off ramp” for Flowey to back out of the fight.

This last point is especially important because we see throughout Undertale Yellow that Flowey is constantly hiding from other monsters—he clearly doesn’t want to entangle himself with them or have them interfere in his affairs. We can also pick up from his dialogue in Undertale and, to a lesser degree, Yellow that Flowey doesn’t want to talk about his past life as Asriel.

Having Clover intrude upon that territory would likely spur a strong reaction from Flowey, to the point where he’d rather abandon his plans, albeit temporarily, than open up that side of himself to a stranger. This would not only make the fight shorter and end it on a more emotionally resonant note, but I feel it also makes more sense for the narrative and themes of Yellow.

Flowey’s rationalization for letting Clover go could be something to the effect of needing to “tidy up” his head space before he’s ready to share it with someone else. Perhaps in the process he could drop a hint that he’s only opened himself up like this once before (with Chara) or that he had thought he had buried those old memories for good.

I also feel like this explanation would work better in the greater context of Flowey’s actions—Flowey quitting the fight out of boredom raises the question of why he’d repeat the fight on future neutral runs or why he’d be so confident that he could absorb the six souls in Undertale if one was too stubborn for him. Instead, having Flowey be emotionally unprepared for his plan but trying to find a workaround would lend itself better to him trying again in the future—to him it was just a little slip-up that he can overcome with enough attempts.

I don’t want to give the impression that my critique here is “the Flowey fight wasn’t done the way I’d have done it, therefore it’s bad.” My suggested “rewrite” to the fight is merely piggybacking off of what was already there, which are great concepts that I could never have dreamed up myself. The problem is that there’s just too much. Way too much. It feels like not enough was cut during the planning stage and what we’re left with is the epitome of “less than the sum of its parts.”

Of course, my rewrite omits the 2nd phase entirely—something that couldn’t be done with the current fight since it’s the most visually stunning segment of the entire game—like it or not, that genie is out of the bottle.

If I had to give any suggestions to improve the fight that we currently have? I’d say that I don’t think the “afterlife” portions of the 2nd phase need to be repeated so often. I think the phase would be better paced if afterlife only occurred at the very beginning and very end, and instead each mini-phase just brought you right back to Flowey’s petal roulette wheel to take you into the next mini-phase.

None of this is to say that I hated the Flowey fight overall. I still love many of the concepts that the fight brings to the table and I’ll watch moments of it on Youtube from time to time, but I just don’t care to experience it again firsthand any time soon, which is pretty much the opposite of how I felt with the Omega Flowey fight.

Looking at Yellow’s final bosses now that I’ve completed them all, I think my favorite might actually be Zenith Martlet? Which is insane to me because I hated that fight the first time I tried it—anyone who shared a Discord with me can attest that I was complaining nonstop when I attempted that fight.

Even now I’d say the Zenith fight is sloppy and the bandaid solutions for it in the 1.1 patch only illustrate how unbalanced this fight originally was. I’ve never beaten it on 1.0, nor do I intend to, yet in 1.1 I’d say I probably enjoyed myself the most with this fight. It doesn’t overstay its welcome like Flowey, nor does it have anything as egregious as the Kanako cutscene in the Ceroba fight. It respects my time, it has great music (though that’s par for all the bosses), the attacks (while chaotic) mostly stick to a consistent handful of themes, and the narrative context of the fight works (minus the bit with Alphys’ lab).

At first I found the Zenith fight unfitting for Martlet as a character. I thought “what? Martlet isn’t some hidden badass,” but that was exactly the point—this isn’t who Martlet is, and reality catches up with her. The 2nd phase is my favorite part of the fight as we see, in typical Martlet fashion, she didn’t plan ahead and can only hopelessly flail about as the “enemy retreating” motif overtakes her theme. It’s a somewhat understated and undignified ending to the character and that’s exactly what makes it work—it’s another example of the game showing restraint and being all the better for it, as opposed to overreaching.

That said, if I wanted to cheat, I’d say my real favorite final boss is the Asgore “fight” from the false pacifist ending. It’s focused on the characters and their goals and it doesn’t try to be anything too flashy. It’s an even more understated yet fitting final boss than Martlet, though the rest of the “false” ending outside of Asgore is a bit lackluster since it’s just a glorified neutral ending.

Conclusion

To wrap things up, I’m sure you’ve all noticed the throughline here: Undertale Yellow is at its best when it’s tasteful and restrained, and at its worst when its ambitions run wild. Of course, that’s easy for me to say from the outside looking in. It’s likely that many of the things I enjoyed about Yellow were ambitious in their conception but were handled carefully enough to appear restrained and effortless. I have no intention of downplaying that—the project as a whole was ambitious, given the time and effort lovingly poured into it.

As I mentioned in the beginning, my criticisms are not intended to dissuade anyone from trying this game. I would not want this game to be forgotten, but I also would not want it to be uncritically praised as some flawless masterpiece that eclipses the original game—that not only does a disservice to the people who worked on Undertale but also to the people who worked on Undertale Yellow. Both games were carefully crafted and both games have their triumphs as well as their flaws.

The last thing that I would want any fan creator to take way from Undertale Yellow OR the original game would be “this was perfect, just copy what they did.” What’s important is understanding why things worked and where they could be improved. Despite Undertale Yellow’s reverence for Undertale, it takes risks and finds places to innovate over the original game. Not all of it works, but I can respect the effort.

And that sums up my overall opinion of the game—it’s a game that I like but a game that I respect even more. The best complement that I can give is that even the parts of the game I didn’t like still had good ideas evident within them. The pieces were there.

With some tweaks, fine-tuning, and the courage to reign in a couple aspects, I honestly think this game could be made to rival the original one day. But even if that day never comes, Undertale Yellow is still a fine game as-is. It’s not a game I consider “canon” like some fans have argued, but I still plan to replay it alongside the original in the future, and I can’t think of higher praise to give than that.

#undertale yellow #undertale #starlo #ceroba #martlet

[thosehallowedhalls]

The Taco Constant

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick

Rating: Teen

Category: Angsty Fluff

Word count: 669

Summary: Ethan is struggling after almost losing Casey. And Tobias, well, he didn't save her life just to have Ethan keel over instead.

A/N: Day seven of my 30 days of drabbles. Prompts from @jerzwriter (Ethan, Tobias, Tacos) and @ladylamrian (“Well, would you look at that? You’re not entirely stupid after all.)

Ethan rests his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. He wishes he had something pressing to do, something to drive his attention and keep his focus on the things he can control. But right now, with Edenbrook all but silent around him, only the muted sounds of the on-call staff moving quietly through the halls, there’s nothing left for him to do but think. And thinking is a dangerous game. If he lets himself think, he’ll come back to one terrifying actuality.

He almost lost her.

His mind, usually so good at facing the bare truths, at grasping even the most complicated of concepts with ease, can’t wrap his mind around this one simple fact. Casey was almost lost.

A movement catches his eye, and he looks up in time to see Tobias walk up to the Diagnostics office. He gives the door a perfunctory knock before striding in, making Ethan jump to his feet.

“Has something happened? Is Casey…?”

“Valentine is fine. As is Aveiro, from the looks of it,” he says pointedly.

A rare blush creeps onto Ethan’s cheeks. Embarrassment and shame battle it out within him. He’s barely given Rafael a thought in the past few hours. “Right, of course. I only meant…”

“I know what you meant. Your girl is fine.”

“She’s not…” He clears his throat. “She’s not my girl.”

Tobias snorts. “How long have we known each other, Ethan? Your poker face doesn’t work on me.” He tilts his head. “Actually, I think your poker face is broken. Better work on that before HR catches on to the fact that Valentine is more than a resident to you.”

“What are you doing here, Carrick?”

“Careful, Ramsey, or I’ll start to think you’re not happy to see me.”

“Well, would you look at that? You’re not entirely stupid after all.”

“That’s the best insult you can come up with? You really are losing your edge.” He peers at his old friend quizzically. “Although I suppose it’s to be expected when you look like something that’s been recently scraped off the pavement. When’s the last time you slept?”

When was the last time he slept? “Yesterday.” Probably.

“And when’s the last time you ate?”

“… Yesterday.”

“Yeah, that won’t work. I didn’t swoop in to singlehandedly save Valentine’s life for you to keel over before you could have your sappy reunion.”

“Is that how you remember it?”

Tobias waves off the sardonic tone. “I mean, your team assisted, certainly. But in the interests of keeping you alive long enough to reunite you with your resident, I brought you something.”

“What do you…” His eyes fall on the takeaway container that somehow escaped his attention until now. “Are those…?”

“Tacos? Of course. The one constant of midterms, finals, and other stressful times of yore.”

Ethan’s throat closes up. Memories of all-nighters, laughter, and friendship wash over him in a bittersweet wave. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Sure I did. If you die now, I’ll never get the chance to one-up you again. People are so terribly quick to idolize the deceased, after all.”

His lips twitch. “One-up me? You always did have an optimistic streak.”

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“Wait,” Ethan says when Tobias turns to leave. “You should… you should have one.”

A smile breaks out on Tobias’ face. “Ethan Ramsey, as I live and breathe. Are you asking me to share a meal with you?”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “No, I’m offering you sustenance before you drop dead on the floor. You look as tired as you seem to think I am.”

“Same difference.” Tobias pulls out the chair across from Ethan’s. “But hell, I’ve never been one to say no to tacos.”

Ethan reaches for one before pausing, his hand freezing in mid-air. He looks up, directly into Tobias’ eyes. “Thank you. For the tacos and for…”

He can’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. Tobias just smiles. “Any time, buddy.”

#ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #ethan and tobias #ethan x casey #open heart #playchoices #30 drabbles in 30 days