To Tanuki: huheuehuehue I love me some slow burn with lots of tension! Thank you for your review! :D
To Guest: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying it a lot! :D
Enjoy you guys! I definitely had fun writing with this chapter! :D
There was no ceremony, no aisle or flowers.
Her wedding was cold, surgical, the atmosphere oppressive, the notary's office crammed with paperwork.
Gaara and Sakura sat in front of notary Shikamaru Nara as he drawled out the marriage contract, stopping occasionally to yawn. Behind their chairs, Gaara's siblings stood guard with his grandmother and a man who had introduced himself as Kiba Inuzuka.
They towered over her, reducing her to a spectacle.
"Do you, Sakura Haruno, accept to take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?" Shikamaru asked and his eyes gleamed, sharp, contrasting with his slow lingering movements as he pushed the contract in front of her. He held up a pen for her.
She couldn't do this.
Sakura glanced back at Chiyo-sama, and the old woman nodded stiffly at her, a wan smile on her lips. Sakura hadn't noticed the white flower pinned to her old-fashioned suit before. Under the lighting of the office, her skin appeared waxy.
She would do this.
"Yes," Sakura said and her voice crumbled, stumbled over the word.
She took the pen and scribbled her signature at the bottom of the page. She held the pen to Gaara and took it from her with touching her.
"And do you, Gaara Sabaku, accept to take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife?"
Before Shikamaru had finished speaking, Gaara signed, the movements of his wrist stiff and quick.
"You need to answer out loud."
Sakura held up her breath, staring at their signatures side-by-side, horrified and terrified. Out the corner of her eyes, she saw Gaara glanced at his watch.
"Yes," he said simply, his voice strong, but bored.
Her heart thundered. Sakura stared at the contract until their names blurred, and Shikamaru sloppily beckoned Gaara's siblings.
"The witnesses sign here and here."
Temari bent over the desk, one hand on Shikamaru's shoulder as she signed. Kankuro glared over at the hand, clicking his tongue, and signed more quickly than Gaara did.
Sakura barely heard what Shikamaru droned on.
She was married. Until death did them part.
Gaara stood up abruptly. Sakura looked up at him, startled.
"Are we done here?"
"Gaara!" Kankuro hissed, and he swatted the back of his head. "I did not bring champagne for nothing."
"Yes, you did," Gaara replied, unfazed, and glanced at his watch. "I've a fundraiser that starts soon."
Nimbly, he buttoned back his jacket, ignoring his family.
"For crying out loud!" Kankuro swore and turned toward his sister. "Tem... Stop ogling your boyfriend, and stop him."
"The fundraiser is important for his image right now," Temari narrowed her eyes at Kankuro before reaching over the desk to readjust Shikamaru's tie.
"Tema..." Shikamaru smiled and squeezed her hand.
"Could you just be careful about your tie?" she whispered to him, with softening features.
"Holy fuck, isn't this just great?" Kankuro rolled his eyes, and Kiba touched his shoulder, grimacing or holding back his laughter, Sakura couldn't be sure. She watched them, as if she were kilometres away; she couldn't reach them, and they couldn't reach her. "My sister is being groped, and my brother is being a dick."
"Watch your tongue, you punk!" Temari hissed.
"How about he watches his hands?" Kankuro shot back, glowering at Shikamaru. "Do we have to watch this shit?"
"Kankuro-san..." Shikamaru tried soberly, but Kankuro only sneered at him.
"Don't call me that respectful title when you're groping my sister."
"Kank..." Kiba forced a laugh, one hand over his boyfriend's arm.
Sakura flinched, her eyes wildly drifting across the building tension in the room; Kankuro and Temari's flushed faces, Kiba and Shikamaru wincing, shifting from one foot to the other, seemingly used to their arguments.
From the door, Gaara surveyed his siblings, his face expressionless.
"I'm leaving now," he announced coldly.
"You're not leaving before the rings, Gaara!" Chiyo-sama snapped and the siblings flinched at her thundering voice, reacting as one.
They widened their eyes, and Kankuro stepped in front of his boyfriend, throwing out his arm in front of him in reflex, Temari digging her nails in Shikamaru's hand. Something dark shifted Gaara's features, his eyes ferociously gleaming.
Sakura flinched and glanced down at her naked ring finger.
Then, the tension was gone, they moved again, apart, bickering in whispers, as if they had never been frightened.
Gaara approached her again and withdrew a box from his pocket. He opened it and handed her the ring, his face emotionless. It was an elaborate ring made of twisted bands grouped as one and incrusted with diamonds.
Sakura reached for the ring, smiling thinly, and her heart throbbed painfully. She grazed his skin. He tensed and narrowed his eyes.
Until death did them part.
Shakily, Sakura put on her own ring under his darkening face.
"Let my assistant know if it doesn't fit."
She slowly spun it around her ring finger.
It fitted perfectly.
Gaara walked away without another word, his head bent over his watch.
Sakura held back her tears, already exhausted. She gripped her purse, her arms crossed over herself. She held on herself, full of emotions boiling, swirling, wanting to break free. The back of her throat hurt, her mouth quivered.
She would not cry in front of them.
"Where are you going?"
Temari stepped in front of her, blocking the passage to the door. Sakura recoiled at her boisterous tone.
"I've a shift at the hospital," she replied thinly.
"I'll drive you."
"It's not necessary-" Sakura protested weakly, fumbling for an excuse, anything, that would allow her to break free from her. She met the director's gaze, but she only gave her an apologetic smile.
"I've an appointment in town. I'll see you tomorrow, Sakura," Chiyo brushed by them, and Sakura's shoulders sagged as she watched her slowly walk out of the office, her assistant falling into step with her.
"Maybe Kiba and I should do that? We're just much better company," Kankuro interjected coolly, and again Sakura felt she wasn't really there, a part of this moment. She was the pawn between a tugging war led by Gaara's family. Uneasily, Sakura looked past them, but Gaara and Director Chiyo were already gone.
The siblings bared their teeth at each other, and she stood in the middle of it.
"No, it should be me," Temari said icily and she brushed by Kankuro, gripping Sakura's wrist. "Come on."
Kankuro gave her a small smile, shaking the bottle of champagne.
"Welcome to the family, little sis," he said, and his face grew cold in an instant.
Kankuro roughly dropped the bottle on Shikamaru's desk, startling him. He snarled at him.
"Enjoy, lazy bum."
Temari walked with big strides, her fingers cool and iron around Sakura's wrist. Shocked, she stared at the diamonds gleaming on her finger, as they went down the stairs. Her insides were knotted together. She passed a moist hand on her forehead. Did she truly say 'yes' to a stranger?
They left of the building. Temari released her and waved stiffly, her teal eyes squinting under the sun. Sakura glanced at her, still holding on to her bag, the hot air harsh against her skin.
A car advanced, sleek and dark in front of them.
"I assure you, Temari-san, I can take the bus-"
"Get in," Temari ordered cutting her off, and the chauffeur opened the door for her.
Sakura bit her lip and tapped her foot on the pavement, hesitating.
The chauffeur ran around the car and opened the door for her. She squinted at the end of the street. She didn't know the neighbourhood. She sighed deeply and slid inside the car.
Silently, the chauffeur closed the door after her with a small bow.
Sakura's hands involuntarily caressed the leather of the limousine's interior, her eyes widened. The windows were tinted, protecting them against the harshness of the sun. There was mini-fridge by Temari's legs.
Her elbow resting against her armrest, she inclined her head toward the window, her fingers slowly playing with the thin chain around her neck. Her profile was poised and stoic: a straight nose, high cheeks, a hard mouth. Intimidating. Icily beautiful.
Self-consciously, Sakura brushed back loose strands of her hair out of her eyes.
The engine purred gently, and they moved.
Temari's fingers now tapped on the armrest, her teal eyes narrowed at her, her face pale, stony. Sakura's eyes involuntarily shifted to her engagement ring. Sakura gulped uneasily, opening her mouth, then closing it.
Sakura knew customs normally dictated that older siblings were to marry first.
She forced a smile.
"I wanted to have a little chat with you since you are now family," Sakura's small smile faltered as Temari's face quivered in repressed disdain. "Image is everything for this family. Get a haircut, better clothes, make-up you can't buy at the drugstore or supermarket. Wherever."
"You disapprove of me," Sakura breathed out, and her nails sank into her arms.
Her body shook. She wanted to lie down and poured out her pain, her anger, her fear. She felt weak at the hands of these strangers.
She hated it, this feeling of worthlessness that somehow always seemed to seek her out. Assault her. Take her from granted.
She straightened her back, but it didn't feel enough.
"Your image is unflattering to us, and frankly, I don't care about you," Temari answered brutally. "Gaara insisted on choosing someone who was beneath him, that's his choice, but good taste... It can't be acquired. Fifteen years from now you'll still be the girl from the gutter."
Sakura didn't reply, her mind bleeding, severed pieces afloat. One part of her wanted to scream and bash Temari's head in, the other part, wanted to cower away from her. She wanted to scream herself raw. She wanted to disappear. She knew she was nothing. She wasn't. There was no harmony in her mind, only her mantra. Squared shoulders, straight back, chin up. She was fatally wounded, but she was a doctor.
So, she said nothing. Holding in her pain the same way she would have pressed against an open wound: until everything was numb.
Silence stretched.
"I've given Gaara my designer's card. Use it," Temari added coolly.
The car slowed in front of the hospital.
Sakura grabbed the door handle.
"Don't," Temari snapped imperiously. "The chauffeur opens the door."
Without hesitation, Sakura hurled the door open, and she heard Temari cursed under her breath.
She turned her head toward her, her eyes flashing with anger.
"I don't know whether you're just full of hate and spite or if you truly love Gaara-sama that much to be talking to me like that..."
"I don't care what you think," Temari replied coldly.
Sakura slammed the door shut, and brushed past the stunned chauffeur. He hesitated then bowed his head stiffly.
During her shift, Sakura reimagined each aspect of her wedding until her lies were convincing and she could call her friends without her voice breaking.
There were flowers.
Chiyo-sama walked her down the aisle.
Gaara squeezed her hand when he put on her ring.
And her new family was lovely.
They were everything she could have ever hoped for.
This was her happy ending.
At the end of her shift, Sakura sat on the bench of the staff room, her head in her hands. She was exhausted. Her mind raced, divided, harassing.
She heard her classmates whispered at each other as they combed their hair and changed out of their uniform.
Inwardly, Sakura recited the procedures she performed today, but the details of each one bled on her wedding. She hadn't called her friends yet. She massaged her scalp, her shoulders tensing up. She wondered what she was to do now? She wondered if she needed to call him? Her leg bounced.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
She would go home and shower and have supper, like she usually did. She had a husband, but it was a business transaction.
Nothing had changed.
They only mentioned public appearances. Of course, Gaara would have told her if anything else was expected of her. Of course. Wouldn't he?
Sakura laughed thinly, relieved.
She shook her head and stood up.
Quietly, Sakura changed out of her clothes and wished good night to the night shift staff before running down the road to catch the bus home.
Dust flaked, thick, around her as she kept running, waving agitatedly at the chauffeur. The bus shuddered and finally stopped yards form the bus station. Panting and smiling, Sakura held up her bus pass.
"Thank you," she said and bowed her head to the driver who smiled back.
Sakura sat down near by the window and took out her cellphone. Ino and Tenten had texted her despite the time difference asking for details and photos. Sakura grimaced, wiping the screen of her cellphone, her stomach twisting. She hated that she was lying to them.
Sakura quickly took a picture of her hand and sent it to her friends.
Ino immediately texted back: "That ring is as big as your forehead OMG. You better have fun tonight if he buys you that stuff."
Her phone beeped with Tenten's reply just as Sakura got off the bus near her apartment: Neji is relieved his ring is bigger. *Eggplant emoji*
Sakura giggled and dropped her phone back in her purse.
Absolutely nothing had changed.
She walked up her street, holding her jacket more tightly around herself. She liked that Suna was so different from Konoha: dry and merciless except at night. Once the sun set, Suna shape shifted, no longer harsh and boiling and steaming. The streets grew in activity, flies and mosquitoes buzzing, children playing, young couples walking outside. People lit lanterns over their porch and neighbours pulled chairs to gossip until late at night.
She smiled faintly, tucking her hair behind her ear.
This was home.
Sakura unlocked the door of her building and ran up the stairs to the third floor.
Her smile dropped.
She froze.
Her apartment door was ajar.
She stumbled in the hallway, her heart beating at the back of her throat. She gripped her keys in a fist, her body terse. With her foot, she nudged open the door.
Sakura almost dropped her keys.
The apartment was entirely empty, her steps' echo following her, deafening. She barged into each room, her heart sinking, her body bending down. Each room was a punch that knocked the air, the life out of her.
Everything was gone.
She touched the walls repainted in white, all traces of her erased, ready for the next occupant.
"What's going on?" Sakura asked to herself.
"Oh, Sakura-san!" the handy man's voice boomed from behind her, and she spun on her heels, startled. "Why are you back? Did you forget something?"
"Back?" Sakura asked thickly, blinking rapidly.
"Yes, the movers already dropped by. I'm sorry, where are my manners? Congratulations on your wedding!"
Stunned, Sakura felt herself nod at the jolly man. She played with the unfamiliar ring. It was him. Her husband had done this. Hot poignant anger flared inside her.
"Yes, I'm married now," she repeated slowly and she wished she could rip off her wedding ring and hurl it away.
She wished she wasn't married, moved like a doll to another house.
"So, did you forget something? Can I help?" the handyman asked eagerly.
"No," she smiled, her face aching, her heart wrenched out of her. Did she even belong to herself now? "I just wanted to look at the place one last time," she added lamely.
Married people lived together. She should have known, but they had organized the visit to the notary around Gaara and her schedule. They had barely talked about the future.
And she had hoped her signature, her standing next to him during some events would be enough. She had hoped nothing would change.
"Of course." The handy man glanced around. "Good evening and congratulations again!"
They bowed, and he disappeared in the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind him.
With shaking fingers, she called Gaara.
"Sabaku Gaara," he answered with a bored voice, the sound of people talking and laughing, and clicking glass in the background.
"What's my address?" she whispered.
If she yelled, she would shatter. She would cry. She was hanging by a thread. His doll. Her wedding, her shift at the hospital had drained her.
She passed a trembling a hand on her face.
"Who's this?"
"Your wife," she whispered loudly, panic gripping her. "Don't you have my number saved up?"
"Hn. I'll text it to you."
Gaara hung up without another word, and she lowered her phone from her ear in disbelief.
She cracked.
She burst into tears, dry-heaving, her hands moving across her body to hold up the pieces of her. She leaked and leaked, slipping through her fingers, through her defence. She couldn't square her shoulders, straighten her back or chin-up.
Her hand shook over her mouth, her other arm digging into her side. They moved to the back her neck, they wiped the tears that wouldn't stop.
She examined her body the way she would for patients at the hospital.
'Where does it hurt?' she would ask.
'Everywhere,' patients would infallibly answer.
Everything had changed.
She had been stupid.
Sakura took the bus back to the centre of the city, all edges of her raw, her hand tightening around a pole. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hood over her hair.
Now, she heard them, the whispers and excitement.
Sabaku Gaara was married.
She closes her eyes. They still burnt. All of her still burnt.
Gaara had texted her an address near the old town with precise instructions. She had read over them multiple times, her head heavy, her body drained. He had also sent her an email about their interview on the following day.
Tomorrow, her name and her picture would be released. For now, she was the invisible woman who had kissed Sabaku Gaara. A nameless bride.
Sakura stepped out of the bus, shakily exhaling.
His neighbourhood, unlike hers, didn't have crowded towering apartment buildings. The houses around her were neatly lined up, old-fashioned townhouses meddled with modern mansions. Everything was painted in pale soft colours.
Sakura hurried down the street, glancing over her shoulder. There was no one around her, but foreign whispers and faint giggles still followed her. She clutched her purse to her side.
Her new house didn't feel like home.
It was hidden behind austere high gates and higher dense hedges. Its architecture was modern, sharp simple lines, plunged in darkness.
Sakura chewed on her bottom lip, looking over her shoulders at the calm private neighbourhood. She felt out-of-place with her scrub stuffed in her messenger back, her disheveled hair, and her puffing reddened eyes. Shakily, while holding her phone up, she punched the code he had given her.
The gate buzzed and opened for her.
She breathed in sharply. Squared shoulders, straight back, and chin up, she recited dully to herself.
Once on the porch, she pressed another combination of numbers, and it unlocked with a grave tone.
When she stepped inside, sensor lights illuminated the entrance and kitchen.
A set of slippers waited for her by the door, next to his. New. Nothing like the old ones she had back at her apartment.
With wobbly knees, Sakura removed her shoes. She hesitated, spinning on herself. She opened a grey unit. His work shoes were lined up, their leather shining. There was a few sportswear. She gulped, at the bottom, there were her the two pairs she owned: flats she wore when she went out, and more comfortable shoes for everyday wear.
Sakura gently placed her shoes there.
She knew this was expected of her. He had left just enough room for her, splitting his home, so she would fit perfectly into her place.
Sakura shook her head, pushing back at the thoughts swirling inside her. Wasn't he swallowing her whole, like his family?
She didn't pick her slippers. He threw away hers.
She didn't pick her home. He emptied hers, repainted it. A shift at the hospital later, she was a new woman with a new beginning.
She untied her hair, shaking it loose, massaging her scalp.
There was no turning back.
Sakura stepped into her house.
She dropped her messenger bag to the floor.
The light softly illuminated the pale furniture in a wide open space. The kitchen's domestic appliances gleamed sharply, metallic, while the rest was rough naked wood. She ran her hands across a bookcase, her books mixed with his in alphabetical order.
She explored the kitchen, the dining room and the living room, her hands hesitating before reaching forward and touching her things among his.
Their schedules rest side-by-side on the door of the refrigerator. On the kitchen island, he had fanned out documents for her, a post-it on each pile detailing procedures and listing phone numbers. Forms to change her address. Forms to apply for citizenship. His sister's designer's card. A car catalogue with the post-it, "which one?" placed on top of it. An appointment at the bank.
And a check. The only thing she cared about.
Her fingers hovered above the check he had made to her school.
She tore herself from the black granite counter, looking around her. A gilded cage.
The house was impersonal; there were no accent or decoration, no picture frame, no warmth to the house. The furniture was to its bare minimum.
Sakura climbed up the stairs, her hand whitening and gripping the handrail.
The master's bedroom was painted in light grey and white like the rest of the house.
She found her way on the balcony, then in the walk-in closet.
Her side of the closet was almost empty, her few things fitting into only a fraction of the space. She imagined filling it, shopping, careless about money for once. Her stomach twisted. Again, it felt like this was expected of her; fill the space and mirror his side full of designer clothes in various shades.
Her eyes drifted across the bed, her head pounding with her quickening heartbeat.
The finality of her wedding damned on her: they would share a bed. They would build a family together. Until death did them part.
But wasn't this a dream come true?
A beautiful home, her tuition already paid off, her future secured. Shouldn't she be grateful?
Without knowing her name, the news outlet had already painted her life as a fairytale: Gaara Sabaku was one of the richest man in the Land of the Wind. Wasn't she lucky? Shouldn't they all be envious?
Sakura turned right on the hallway nothing the two bathrooms, before pushing open the door to his study. Unlike the rest of the house, his study was shrouded in shadows, painted in dark red, the desk old, pile of paper perfectly arranged on top of it.
She quietly closed the door and pushed opened the last room of the floor.
It was her own study, and she saw it more clearly now, how he had selected some of her things and disregarded the rest. She balled her fists, her anger, her sadness battling inside her. Her desk was brand-new, her old beat-up second-hand furniture gone. He had picked a desk of cherry wood and a chair that matched: modern and of the same wood.
A part of her flinched, craving this sense of belonging.
The other part of her demanded violent retaliation.
She was grateful.
She was going to kill him.
It was late at night when Gaara returned home.
"Hn. Did you read through the email I sent you?" he said after he put on his slippers.
She glared up at him.
"Never mind that. I want my desk back." Sakura said icily at him and he stepped in the kitchen.
Her hair still damp from her shower dripped down her neck, as she bent over her textbook. Impatiently, she tapped on the book, sensing him approach her.
"My assistant will meet you here at 3 to go over the interview questions," Gaara said, ignoring her. "Don't be late."
He took a water bottle out of the refrigerator. He leaned against the counter watching her with curiosity, his tie untied around his neck. He took a sip.
"I want my desk back," she repeated through clenched teeth and roughly highlighted a sentence on the importance of eye movement examination during neurological assessment. "I want all of my things back. You had no right going through my stuff."
"No right? Isn't this what you wanted?" Gaara asked quietly, and a shadow she couldn't understand lurked in his pale eyes. "Money," he said flatly, brutally. "Functional things. I had planned to bring all of your stuff here, but half of it was garbage. You lived like a pig, Sakura."
She gaped at him.
"Excuse me?" she stammered.
"You're welcome."
Sakura pushed back the chair from the kitchen island and it grated against the floor. She glared at him.
"Are you unintentionally dense or just very rude?" she shouted and gestured around her. "This isn't what I wanted. I just wanted to be a doctor!"
Gaara raised an eyebrow in surprise at her, his mouth pressed to the bottle, but he didn't drink. He lowered back his arm, his head cocked to the side as if he was seeing her for the first time.
"Did you think it would simply fall into your laps... becoming a doctor?"
Her jaw twitched, and she held his gaze, her heart deafening, reaching up to the back of her throat.
"You didn't need to do this."
He shrugged.
"I've been told I'm rude."
'Your image is unflattering to us,' Temari's voice filled her head along his. Was this the price of belonging, she wondered taking a step back from him, her insides gripped into a frozen, unbreakable fist.
She would be reinvented to fit in someone else's story, was that her future? Was that how ruthless women lived?
Sakura looked around her, at the pristine kitchen, the dining room opening on the living room, beige, fitting together.
A fairytale, Sakura had thought before considering her house. Now, she knew, she wasn't Cinderella. Cinderella had loved her prince, she hadn't taken her vows to escape her circumstances. No, she was the last of a Russian doll set. And they would make her fit inside, swallowed, adjusted to their world.
She balled her fists.
"I didn't ask for upgrades," Sakura added through clenched teeth.
Gaara shrugged, noncommittal, and put back the water bottle in the refrigerator.
"They are just things," he said as he brushed by her. "I'm sure it won't take long before you ruin those too. Matsuri told me your chair didn't even have all its wheels."
Gaara settled his bow tie on the couch and unbuttoned his collar.
"About the interview-"
"It's our house, honey," Sakura interrupted him, her voice rising, and he looked back at her with an eyebrow raised, his head cocked to the side."Ours. As in there should be your stuff and mine, and it should coexist."
"Hn. Fine, buy whatever pleases you," Gaara took out his wallet from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and took out his credit card.
He handed it to her.
Sakura looked at the card, feeling dismissed, small, belonging in the cracks of his life. He sighed and pressed it to her hands when she didn't react.
"Now, Are we done here?" Gaara pointed at the credit card she was still holding, and the back of her throat hurt from the tears she refused to let fall. "I'm going to shower."
Sakura followed him mechanically. Lips pinched, he looked back at her as he started climbing up the stairs.
She didn't move.
"Just use the contact pay option," Gaara added slowly.
"Do we really need to share the bedroom?" she asked.
Her face crumpled, but his eyes were on his watch, his hand on the handrail.
"I'm an insomniac. I rarely sleep, so I won't disturb you. But we've one shower, so I need to go up now."
Gaara stared at her expectantly, his eyebrows knitted together. They didn't understand each other. Now, he was careful, holding himself back, while her thoughts raced unpleasantly over things she wished she could say to him: Jerk, freak.
She touched her wedding ring, and looked at his. She hadn't noticed it before.
"Fine," she said flatly.
"Don't sleep too late. That interview is important to me."
"Yes, Gaara-sama."
"So, we're-"
"Yes, yes, we're done," Sakura snapped.
She spun on her heels, his card still in her grip. What had she expected? She chastised herself. She threw the card on the counter, tears of frustration brimming her eyes. She pressed a hand to her mouth. It hurt. The back of her throat. The back of her eyes.
It hurt.
'What have I done?'
She thought of his disdainful eyes flickering across her face.
Temari had been right. She had been picked for their image. Her story would only be a fairytale in appearance.
Tomorrow, she would smile at the world, stand by his side, and say she loved him.
Next chapter will be posted on November 6th. I've exams and other stuff coming up, so I won't have as much time to write this story. If you have any questions about my updating schedule, feel free to PM and contact me through tumblr (clem-chan).
On Temari and Sakura's relationship: They'll become close, no worries. In all of headcannons regarding Temari, friendship is not something that occurs quickly. She's more the type of person you meet, hate, then grows on you.
Thank you for reading! Reviews/faving/alert-ing are always very much appreciated!