#GUYS. Guys. i knew there WERE CANALS in SOME PLACES IN THE CITY

[skepticalcatfrog]

Thank you to the fuckin canal post for getting me 2,000 reblogs

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐣𝐫...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: headcannons pertaining your growing relationship with the trollhunter.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jim lake jr x fem!reader

When you met Jim, it was a normal day of school.

At least, for you it was.

For Jim, he had just been approached by two giant stone creatures telling him that he’s now their protector, and then he was attacked by an evil troll who totally kicked his ass.

But you couldn’t have known that, so it was just a normal school day.

You’d always known he existed, having gone to school with him since Kindergarten. 

But you’d never been friends, that was for sure. 

A few days before you had signed up to be a history tutor, needing some school approved service hours.

And just your luck, you had a session scheduled with Jim Lake Jr.

He was jittery, that was the first thing you realized. His eyes couldn’t stay focused on one thing for longer than two seconds, always jumping to the window.

You had been reaching for your pencil case, which was in your bag under the table. That was when you noticed his bruised up arms. Frozen in place, you also saw a large gash peeking out from his pant leg, just visible on his ankle.

It wasn’t your place to say anything, you knew. You barely knew Jim! But still… was he is trouble?

The thought distracted you, causing you to hit the back of your head on the underside of the table.

Wincing, you raised your head, spying Jim giving you a concerned look. You found yourself giving him a similar, more extreme stare. 

“So… I think we were on the Ottoman Empire in class, right?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t think you could, not without asking. It became too much after an awkward second, and you blurted out the question. “Jim, did somebody hurt you?”

The way his face lost its color sent a shiver down your spine.

He laughed a laugh that was clearly forced—strangled even. “What makes you ask that?”

“Jim… Look at you. You’re all scratched up.”

A thick silence follows your tentative declaration.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I, uhm, I tried to ride my bike down the side of the canal. It didn’t go so well, as you can see.”

It was a good excuse, you thought, but did you believe it? Not for a second. It took you only a few moments before your eyes narrowed and you scooted your chair closer to his. 

Jim thought you looked murderous the longer he was locked in contact with your eyes. 

“Was it Steve Palchuk? ‘Cause if it was we need to say something. This is beyond bullying, Jim.”

What was he supposed to say? Oh, nah, don’t worry, Y/N. I was just beaten to near death by a stone giant last night. No biggy.

She’d walk him to an asylum herself.

Apparently, Jim took too long to respond, which to you was an response enough. You scoffed to yourself, shoving back in your seat with crossed arms. “I cannot believe that bitch. He won’t get away with this.”

Jim just fiddled with his pencil, eyes on his textbook. He didn’t know much about Y/N L/N, but he knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Ever since elementary school she’d taken charge in city clean ups, protested in cities as far as D.C., made speeches that changed the minds of Arcadia’s city council and their school board.

When she was mad about something, everyone knew, and she wouldn’t be placated till there was a change.

Jim had to hide his smirk behind his palm; he could just imagine Steve receiving the flame that the girl beside him would unleash. 

He had to ask, “What’re you gonna do?”

Your answer was instantaneous. “Talk to him, I think. I know him well enough, us being cousins and all.”

That was a shock for sure.

A day later, Jim was walking into school when he heard the tell tale sound of your voice. He turned the corner, stopping short at the sight before him.

You, at least a head shorter than Steve, had the poor guy gripped by the ear and pulled down to your height. Jim didn’t stick around to listen to what you were saying, seeing the fury all over your face and not wanting either of you to spy him loitering there.

But Jim had to admit, the look of terror on Steve’s face was hilarious.

After that, your tutoring sessions became more and more natural over time. The conversation drifted away from history and toward other things like interests and fun stories. 

Not only that, but the time drew on longer till it wasn’t so much a tutoring session as much as it was just two friends hanging out.

It didn’t take long for Jim to realize he enjoyed spending time with you much more than he wanted to.

Much more than he wanted to.

He thinks he realized how much he actually liked you around a few months before everything went to shit.

Jim offered to walk you home when the session dragged on so long that the moon had risen into the sky.

“You don’t live too far from me, I don’t mind.”

It was as they neared your driveway that he caught sight of Blinky from the corner of his eye, shooting fear straight to his heart. 

The many-eyed troll was rustling in the bushes, tailing him and you. You were oblivious, going on about the pranks you had planned for the upcoming April Fools Day. 

Jim wanted to be listening to you, mostly so he could avoid your schemes, but also because he enjoyed the lightheartedness with which you spoke. It was a nice change from the woe he heard whenever he entered Trollmarket. But he couldn’t give you the focus he wanted with Blinky just seven feet form being spotted.

“Welp,” you sighed. “This is where we part.”

Disappointment was on both of your minds as you smiled at each other. 

He managed to hold it together when, after a moment of hesitation, you lurched forward to wrap him in a hug. Surprised, he glanced up over your shoulder to see Blinky giving him four thumbs ups.

He used one arm to hug you back, and the other to flip the troll off. 

Being the Trollhunter was dangerous for not only Jim and everyone involved. And as the two of you started to hang out without the pretense of you being his tutor, he swore to himself that you would never find out his secret.

But as you grew closer, it became increasingly difficult to hide anything from you. 

You always found his new injuries and scrapes and even once somehow detected his bruised ribs. After a while, you became suspicious, no longer assuming your cousin was behind it. 

You didn’t want to assume anything severe, but you had to worry about his home life. 

You knew his mother—you’d met Dr. Lake when you ended up sitting together to watch Jim in Romeo and Juliet—and you didn’t get the feeling she would ever get… physical with him. The very thought made you shudder.

If not that, then what was it? Jim didn’t seem the street fighter type. It caused you more worry than you’d like to admit.

Over the past few months of knowing Jim Lake Jr., you think you’d be comfortable calling him your best friend. You two spent nearly everyday talking, whether it was between class or on the phone every once in a while. 

And it was obvious to everyone except to you that there was chemistry.

It caused Toby some anguish to say the least. 

Speaking of which, you’d grown closer with Jim’s best friend too, something you hadn’t expected.

Toby was a good friend to you, always taking time out of his day to ask about yours, questioning your every “It was fine” and demanding to know what was so “fine” about it. In return, he offered his own tales of misery, getting a laugh out of you nearly every time. 

You didn’t notice how he physically grimaced whenever you brushed off his attempts at finding out what you thought about ol’ Jimbo.

Moving on from all of that, to you, things were going great! Your grades could be better, but you had better friends than you’d ever had before. Added to your ranks was Claire Nuñez, and over time… well, you had to admit that you were suspicious.

Jim’s crush on Claire had been ever so obvious ever since the fourth grade, but that wasn’t it (Or rather, you hoped that wasn’t it). 

No matter how much you told yourself you were paranoid, you thought the three of them were hiding something. 

It hurt to say the least. You were friends… right? Did friends keep secrets?

This was what you thought as you sat alone during lunch, contemplating the way Jim, Toby, and Claire made some poor excuse about having to go to a chess club meeting.

You knew they weren’t a part of the chess club. You were president of the chess club. How did they not know that? Were they that bad at lying? Or did they not care if you knew how much they actually hated you?

…

You were overthinking. They didn’t hate you. Jim certainly didn’t, you think. He was so kind and caring and thoughtful… your cheeks burned red at the thoughts running across your mind… you shook your head, reasoning that there must be an explanation that didn’t involve thier secret vendetta against you.

You just had to find out what it was.

But as they abandoned you more and more for their secret escapades, and as they ditched you to work on group projects alone, and they generally lied time and time again… you grew tired of the confusion.

Your cousin was starting to warm up to you, something about his brutish personality shifting over the course of that school year. He noticed first how you sat alone at lunch, and then he looked around at his table full of kids… and realized he too was alone—in a mental sense, that is.

So he picked up his tray and bag and trudged over to your table in the corner of the lunchroom. 

The look of shock on your face didn’t fade away till he was sitting there across from you, and you deduced that he probably wasn’t here to tease you.

The conversation was slow at first, even dull, just small talk, but then he caught sight of the comic book tucked under your lunch tray. 

He hesitated, knowing his friends at the other table had made fun of him for liking those sort of things… but you had never done that before. Steve could trust you... probably.

So he asks you about it, and you go into a long winded explanation of it, only for him to interrupt with, “I know what it is… I’ve got the entire set back home.”

You blinked, shocked, and you thought that maybe your cousin Steve wasn’t so terrible after all.

Your friends wanted to ditch you? Fine. You’d make yourself useful and stop being their deadweight. It was somewhat freeing, no matter how much it pained you to sweep past Jim’s sweet smile and ready sandwich (made just how you like it). But it was for the best. You couldn’t stand the way they treated you.

It was only a month after you severed ties with them that you realized how much they’d impacted you.

You no longer found Nougat Nummies that Toby had put in your backpack. You could no longer ask Claire for help with studying. You couldn’t waltz into Jim’s house like you owned the place, hop up onto his counter, and spiel on and on about whatever was on your mind while Jim cooked food around the kitchen.

You might’ve missed that last one more than the other memories.

You might’ve missed Jim more than the others.

And you might’ve liked him a bit too much too.

On Jim’s side, he knew why you’d grown distant. It pained him to keep such a big secret from you, especially when he could see it was hurting you, but what else could he do? Tell you he’s the Trollhunter?

No. Jim would never do that to you. If you knew, then they would find you. You’d wind up hurt. It was bad enough he’d dragged Claire into all this, but you? Jim couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. 

He didn’t think about how much not having you in his life would hurt.

Maybe a month goes by, and the two of you get back to a steady rhythm without the other. Unbeknownst to you, your old friends were preparing for war.

How could you know? How could you have prepared? Simple. You couldn’t have.

So that’s why, the night of the school dance, instead of going to that stupid party just to stand alone in the corner, you decided you would be getting your answers.

What spurred this sudden quest? You didn’t know. But you needed to know what you did wrong. What had you done to drive Jim away?

So that’s how you ended up on his doorstep at just the wrong moment. 

Before you knocked on the door, you heard crashing and shouting from inside. 

Your heart raced. Were you right about Jim being hurt at home. You decided to raise your voice. “Jim?! Jim, are you in there!”

Inside, Jim heard your yells, and a pang of fear swelled up in him. 

He stood in armor of glowing silver beside his high school principal, who looked nothing like the lanky man everyone knew him as, yet appeared as a green skinned creature with jagged wings. A changeling.

And across from him was an ancient entity, with eyes blank and voidish, and a smirk that sent shivers down the boys spine. Angor Rot.

The fight had gone still at the sound of your pounding fist against the door. Jim didn’t like the sadistic gleam in Angor’s dark eyes. 

“Jim! Open this door! Are you all right?!”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening. He’d tried so hard to keep safe, to keep you away from all of this!

He should’ve known better; you weren’t so easily shoved off, and you never knew when to quit.

Angor swept to greet you with Jim hot on his tail, swinging his sword wildly.

He was too late. 

A long story short, you were way in over your head with this one. 

Being the hostage of a centuries old… thing was so not on your bucket list. Yet, here you were, shaking as Angor Rot held a dagger to your neck. His entire being stenched of age, and you had to hold in your gagging lest it push you forth into the blade.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t knwo what was happening. But you knew Jim was there. He was right there, wearing his armor from Romeo and Juliet and wielding the same prop sword that didn’t look so prop-like now. 

He was right there, and he was looking at you, and you were looking at him, and you were both terrified.

“Jim,” you whispered, scared that even the slight word would force your skin forth and the knife would slit her neck. “Jim, what’s going on?”

Angor chuckled darkly as he peered down at you. “Ah, that’s right. You have no idea what your friend has been doing in the shadows.”

Your gaze was directed at Jim, your jaw shaky and your eyes wide with confusion. “What–?”

“So, Trollhunter,” Angor seethed. “Shall we risk your flower’s life today?”

You hadn’t been killed, fortunately. It all happened so fast, and all you really remembered was Jim fighting that thing, the changeling happening to be your principal, Dr. Lake in mortal danger, and an underground city of stone creatures.

The same underground city you now sat in, the boy of the hour right beside you. Neither of you had said a word since everything calmed down. It was driving you mad.

You raised your eyes to see Dr. Lake standing nearby, safe now that the battle with Angor was over. Then you swiveled to face Jim, your face screwed up. 

“Jim… who are you?”

He didn’t have much of a choice. You’d seen all you’d seen, hurt and fought alongside him despite never lifting a weapon against anyone in all your life. You deserved the truth.

“I’m the Trollhunter.”

It took nearly an hour for him to explain everything, and when it was all said and done, your jaw was hanging open. You now sat on the step below him, looking up at the boy you now knew was so terribly brave. Everything he’d gone through… it nearly made you forgive him.

You’d known Jim Lake Jr. as one thing for months and months, and now it seemed he was something entirely different. 

He wasn’t a scared kid who needed you to defend him to your ex-jerk of a cousin. He was strong and held himself with a certain dignity and humility that you envied. Yeah, he was awkward and foolish at times—foolish like when he ditched you just to keep you safe, which you supposed was understandable given that night’s events—but you liked him anyway.

You really liked him, despite all the pain and confusion and this fast turn of events. 

He hadn’t changed, you realized as you just stared up at him whilst he awaited what you would say. 

He was Jim, the boy you could have called your best friend had anyone asked, and the boy you had slowly harbored a crush on.

It was this thought process that made you lock eyes with him. You didn’t like secrets, and you hated lying. You sucked in a breath and put everything out in the open for him to see. 

“I like you, Jim.” The words were harder than you thought. “You don’t have to like me too, I just needed to say it. I want to be your friend no matter what, and I guess I can understand why you’d keep this from me. I just… I need you to know you can trust me.”

There. There it was. A confession, an offer, a pledge. It was everything you needed to say. 

And as you forced yourself to keep looking at Jim, you saw his eyes flutter and his jaw hang a bit. You felt slightly nauseous as your words came back to your memory. Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

“You like me?”

It was your time to blink blankly. That was all he got from that? You cracked a grin, not knowing where this was going. “Yeah. I really like you.”

He couldn’t believe it. He thought surely you would hate him, or at the very least never want to see his face again. But you liked him? Even after all that? After all the lies?

You liked him back?

Jim smiled, hand reaching for yours, itching to grab your hand, only for him to pull back at the awkward last second.

You tilted your head, wondering just what you were getting yourself into as you took his hand and gripped it tight.

Trollmarket was in shambles all around. Jim’s mother’s memory was wiped. His principal was a changeling. Enrique was in the Darklands. But you were there, and you were on his side.

Still, he had secrets to keep. Secrets from you, Toby, Claire, Blinky. Everyone. 

So as he dropped your hand with a subtle drop to his smile, he thought back to all that had happened, all that had been lost, and all that could be lost in the future.

“I like you too,” said Jim. You didn’t notice how his eyes filled with pain as he excused himself to deal with some Trollhunter business. 

You didn’t realize that might’ve been the last time you saw him as he turned away and walked off in a hurry.

How could you have known? You were new to this. You had no clue about the bridge or Enrique or Jim’s promise to Claire.

So when you saw Claire and Toby run by with panicked expressions, you were quick to rush after them. You had no clue what was going on, but you’d always been quick on the uptake.

Jim was going someplace he should not be going alone. He was leaving them all behind to go there. He was going to the Darklands.

You had just gotten him back, and now, he was ditching you again. 

Sure, it was meant to be heroic, but you just wanted your best friend to stick around for a little while.

Weeks go by, and you assist in Claire and Toby’s search for a way to save Jim. Eventually you help to free him, somehow managing to survive a short traipse through the Darklands.

It was safe to say you weren’t letting Jim get too out of sight for a time after that, and he wasn’t going to complain.

He never kept anything from you again, admitting it was torture to keep lying to you and keep you at a distance.

Jim often felt so out of touch with the rest of the world, being stuck in the middle of human and troll lives, and it was easy for him to disassociate and just brush everyone off. It was days like those that Jim was glad he had you.

“Jim?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You’d only sigh, catching the way he kept zoning out, getting lost in his own head. In your opinion, he’d been through too much to be only sixteen. So you took his hand or drew him in for a hug or just slung an arm around him--any of the like would do.

Instantly, his nerves would calm and his attention drawn back to the present. 

“You don’t have to be fine, you know.”

He hadn’t known that, not really. Not until he met you.

Those all around you two would notice a distinct change in Jim’s demeanor, so subtle yet so clear. He was somehow softer, which Toby hadn’t thought possible, and the light in his eyes began to spark up again.

His mother was especially grateful, loving the life you brought back into Jim. Blinky adored your very nature. Draal tolerated your eagerness to train with him. Vendel mused your every demanding question.

It wasn’t long before Jim got nervous; you were now one more person he couldn’t stand losing.

But you never let his thoughts run too wild, somehow always one step ahead of his overthinking, ready to put out every doubt and every fear.

“Hey, listen. You’re stuck with me, Lake. Nothing, especially not Bular or Gunmar or any other creep, is ever going to keep me from getting back to you.”

He wasn’t sure how to express just how much you meant to him, so he settled for a watery grin. “Back at you.”

I love you was just a breath away from being spoken into reality, but neither you nor Jim were eager to shove it out there. The fact was there whether it was spoken or not, and the both fo you were well aware of its presence.

[istumpysk]

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Lemongate

TIER:

People's Choice! I swear to god, if you guys screw this up...

Under Consideration: These theories haven't garnered strong or extensive evidence, but they're worthy of discussion.

vs.

50/50: These theories are complete toss-ups.

vs.

Low Probability: While not impossible, these theories are unlikely based on the current evidence.

vs.

Long Shot: These theories are largely speculative, based more on wishful thinking or obscure hints than on solid evidence.

vs.

Debunked: These theories have been directly contradicted by the text, George R. R. Martin, or other authoritative sources.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

What is Lemongate?

That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. - Daenerys I, AGOT

The theory argues that lemons can't grow in Braavos, therefore something about Daenerys' childhood has yet to be revealed.

What could it be?

It depends on who you ask. The problem with this theory is that it serves as the foundation for many other theories, making it extremely difficult to cover.

The possibility that Daenerys never actually lived in Braavos has led to various speculations, including but not limited to the following:

The big house with the red door was in Dorne.

Daenerys Targaryen isn't really Daenerys Targaryen, and has false memories of her childhood with Viserys Targaryen.

Daenerys is the daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

Daenerys is the daughter of Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne.

And that's just scratching the surface.

For the sake of my sanity, we won't delve into all that nonsense. Instead, we'll focus solely on the question of whether lemons can grow in Braavos and, if not, what the hell is going on.

Okay, do lemons grow in Braavos?

Maybe? Daenerys seems to think so.

That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. - Daenerys I, AGOT

But there's some issues.

For starters, trees don't really grow in Braavos.

Beyond the harbor she glimpsed streets of grey stone houses, built so close they leaned one upon the other. To Arya's eyes they were queer-looking, four and five stories tall and very skinny, with sharp-peaked tile roofs like pointed hats. She saw no thatch, and only a few timbered houses of the sort she knew in Westeros. They have no trees, she realized. Braavos is all stone, a grey city in a green sea. - Arya I, AFFC

x

The stony maze of islands and canals that was Braavos, devoid of grass and trees and teeming with strangers who spoke to her in words she could not understand, frightened her so badly that she lost the map and soon herself. - Samwell III, AFFC

Braavos is built on a lagoon at the northwestern end of Essos.

(map!)

It is often described as foggy, with a damp, cool, maritime climate. It draws significant inspiration from the city of Venice, Italy.

The day looked to be a rare one, crisp and clear and bright. Braavos only had three kinds of weather; fog was bad, rain was worse, and freezing rain was worst. But every so often would come a morning when the dawn broke pink and blue and the air was sharp and salty. Those were the days that Cat loved best. - Cat of the Canals, AFFC

x

"Winter is nigh upon us. The day I left Braavos, there was ice on the canals." - Jon IX, ADWD

It's not an ideal climate for growing lemons, as the text humorously notes.

"Seven hells, this place is damp," she heard her guard complain. "I'm chilled to the bones. Where are the bloody orange trees? I always heard there were orange trees in the Free Cities. Lemons and limes. Pomegranates. Hot peppers, warm nights, girls with bare bellies. Where are the bare-bellied girls, I ask you?" "Down in Lys, and Myr, and Old Volantis," the other guard replied. He was an older man, big-bellied and grizzled. "I went to Lys with Lord Tywin once, when he was Hand to Aerys. Braavos is north of King's Landing, fool. Can't you read a bloody map?" - Mercy, TWOW

It's nothing like Dorne, a more suitable place for a lemon tree.

Anguy shuffled his feet. "We were thinking we might eat it, Sharna. With lemons. If you had some." "Lemons. And where would we get lemons? Does this look like Dorne to you, you freckled fool? Why don't you hop out back to the lemon trees and pick us a bushel, and some nice olives and pomegranates too." - Arya II, ASOS

x

There children frolicked naked in the sun, music played in tiled courtyards, and the air was sharp with the smell of lemons and blood oranges. - The Captain of the Guards, AFFC

And to the author's credit, he appears to fully understand the conditions under which lemon trees can and cannot thrive.

Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more. - Alayne I, TWOW

So you can see why it's a bit puzzling.

Has anyone ever thought to simply ask George about it?

Of course. If you had the opportunity to ask George R. R. Martin anything, why wouldn't you waste your moment on something as stupid as this?

George was asked about the discrepancy, and surprisingly, he was uncharacteristically forthcoming. He acknowledged that it's very perceptive to pick up on a detail like that and playfully hinted that it points to something else.

Dany remembers a lemon tree outside the house with the red door in Braavos, but citrus trees shouldn't really grow in Braavos's cold, foggy climate. Is this discrepency significant? Does it point to future revelations about Dany's past? Thank you so much. Very perceptive of you. Yes, it does point to . . . well, that would be telling. - George R. R. Martin

In that case, is Lemongate confirmed to be real?

No, not exactly.

Despite what he said, there's really no hints in the text concerning any secrecy around Daenerys' upbringing.

Ser Willem Darry was in Braavos, a fact that could be confirmed by several people.

"It is a secret pact," Dany said, "made in Braavos when I was just a little girl. Ser Willem Darry signed for us, the man who spirited my brother and myself away from Dragonstone before the Usurper's men could take us. Prince Oberyn Martell signed for Dorne, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness." She handed the parchment to Ser Barristan, so he might read it for himself. - Daenerys VII, ADWD

And while trees are rare in Braavos, they do grow in the gardens of the wealthy, where you'd expect Daenerys to be. It's not out of the question that a lemon tree could grow there. Lemon trees can also grow in Venice, Italy.

Trees did not grow on Braavos, save in the courts and gardens of the mighty. - Samwell III, AFFC

Compare one questionable lemon tree to how the author handles Jon Snow's parentage, and you can see why the theory has some issues.

Then what the hell is going on?

I believe one of three possibilities exists.

POSSIBILITY #1

Daenerys lived in a nice big house in Braavos with Ser Willem Darry, and there was a lemon tree outside her window. Nothing weird is happening.

POSSIBILITY #2

We have another instance of an unreliable narrator, who is rewriting a past event that never existed.

Daenerys is chasing a red door and a lemon tree that were never truly there, and she'll never reach her destination. It's a commentary on the futility of her entire objective.

POSSIBILITY #3*

(*also known as the real reason)

At the last minute, George changed the location of the big house with the red door from Tyrosh to Braavos, resulting in a humorous inconsistency in the story.

Yes, it's really that simple.

Blood of the Dragon was a novella published in the July 1996 issue of Asimov's Science Fiction magazine. It is based on the Daenerys chapters from A Game of Thrones and was released before the book itself.

Here's an excerpt:

That was when they had lived in Tyrosh, in the big house with the red door. Dany had slept in her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever. They had wandered since then, from Tyrosh to Myr, from Myr to Braavos, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place.

Whoops! Something's different.

The big house with the red door originally being in Tyrosh isn't surprising, given that ✨ we know ✨ Daenerys speaks with a Tyroshi accent.

The merchant must have taken her for Dothraki, with her clothes and her oiled hair and sun-browned skin. When she spoke, he gaped at her in astonishment. "My lady, you are … Tyroshi? Can it be so?" "My speech may be Tyroshi, and my garb Dothraki, but I am of Westeros, of the Sunset Kingdoms," Dany told him. - Daenerys VI, AGOT

You'd have to spend many of your formative younger years in Tyrosh for that to be the case.

As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed, and recognized the sharp odors of garlic and pepper, scents that reminded Dany of days long gone in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr and brought a fond smile to her face. - Daenerys VI, AGOT

Amusingly, this now-deleted part of her history was somewhat alluded to when her mirrored image twin from Tyrosh was introduced to the story.

The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. - Daenerys V, ASOS

x

"Is it Daario? What's happened?" In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. - Daenerys II, ADWD

Many inconsistencies and discrepancies are present throughout the series, but they are especially noticeable in A Game of Thrones.

Lemons grow in Tyrosh, but they don't typically grow in Braavos. It's a detail the author overlooked when making the simple change, and I guarantee you this is him poking fun at himself (and the Lemongaters) for the error:

"Seven hells, this place is damp," she heard her guard complain. "I'm chilled to the bones. Where are the bloody orange trees? I always heard there were orange trees in the Free Cities. Lemons and limes. Pomegranates. Hot peppers, warm nights, girls with bare bellies. Where are the bare-bellied girls, I ask you?" "Down in Lys, and Myr, and Old Volantis," the other guard replied. He was an older man, big-bellied and grizzled. "I went to Lys with Lord Tywin once, when he was Hand to Aerys. Braavos is north of King's Landing, fool. Can't you read a bloody map?" - Mercy, TWOW

So, we can probably put it to rest.

But George himself said it was pointing to something??

Aww, adorable.

If you've been paying attention to George R. R. Martin for any amount of time, you should realize that if there were something truly significant about lemon trees not growing in Braavos as part of a secret plot yet to be revealed, there's no way in hell he would ever answer that question in that manner on LiveJournal.

Allow me to finish his sentence for him,

Dany remembers a lemon tree outside the house with the red door in Braavos, but citrus trees shouldn't really grow in Braavos's cold, foggy climate. Is this discrepency significant? Does it point to future revelations about Dany's past? Thank you so much. Very perceptive of you. Yes, it does point to . . . [my changing the story and overlooking a minor detail, like an idiot.]

Fine, but why did he switch it from Tyrosh to Braavos?

I don't know why, but you should stop overthinking this, and we should move on.

(because of arya.)

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

I'd like to think Lemongate has been debunked, but I'll leave it to the people to render their verdict.

Does Lemongate amount to nothing? Absolutely. Do lemons grow in Braavos? Not really. Is the house with the red door a symbol of an idealized past she'll never be able to replicate in her future? I don't doubt it.

Many things can be true here, but one thing that's not is that she lived in Dorne, and Lyanna Stark is her mother.

VOTE:

NEXT THEORY:

Oberyn poisoned Tywin

[Main menu]

[sgiandubh]

A stupid shipper's guide to the Peloponnese, part 2: Mycenae, my Craigh na Dun

Forgot to mention: Praxiteles' statue of Hermes still has faint cinnabar traces in its curls. Which makes that Hermes a ginger, hehe. You simply can't make this shit up. /end of poetic justice moment

Anyways. The very minute your car, bus or bike crosses the Corinth Canal, even if you cannot see it from the modern, German highway, you just know you are in the Peloponnese. Everything changes: the light, the landscape and even the silence. In summertime, cicadas reign supreme: mercifully, after a while, you don't hear them anymore and sleep like a log in daytime. Summer nights are always for something else, in this land.

Odysseas Elytis, my favorite Greek poet, knew something about all this:

"Drinking the sun of Corinth Reading the marble ruins Striding across vineyards and seas Sighting along the harpoon A votive fish that slips away I found the leaves that the sun’s psalm memorizes The living land that passion joys in opening."

So really, forget about the islands, spare some unsung, almost unknown gems. The heart of this country beats South of Corinth, and once you've realized this, there is no turning back.

Olympia and her little sister, Nemea, are all about joy and cheer and the sort of organized happiness the Ancient World was so adept at. But at Mycenae, we hit a different chord. It is home to this guy - the filthy rich, ruthless, rogue King Agamemnon.

"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair":

Mycenae and I go back a couple of years and too many repeated, insistent expeditions to count properly. Even Zorba the car knows the way by himself, so all I have to do is wait for the right week-end, climb at the wheel and enjoy the scenery. Many dinners in town and embassy receptions have been traded for the simple joy to be awaken by kyria Panagiota's impertinent rooster (across the street) at 5 am and open my room's French doors to this view:

A mix of olive groves and vineyards, with the odd cypress tree randomly thrown around. 354 inhabitants. Two churches. Two stone bridges, built somewhere at the narrow end of the Stone Age and still treaded by tractors, cattle and unsuspecting pedestrians. And also this:

The Lions' Gate (the real one, not TPTB related), as photographed by me the day before yesterday, for the umpteenth time, proudly standing at the end of a steep-ish climb cursed daily in tens of different languages by thousands of tourists. As for Angkor Wat, you'd have to see it at sunrise or sunset to fully get the magic, in complete silence. Patience and determination will certainly be rewarded. For this place is rich with all the memories of those who once called it home, back in the day when it was one of the most powerful political and trade centers of the known world. The Cyclopean fantasy of a demi-god, which is all about flawless ownership of space and aggressive affirmation of one's worth. Or, as the obscure Alpheus of Mytilene aptly put it in an epigram, written some time around 0, AD: "a city built by giants and passing rich in gold".

Pic taken by me in late October 2021, that blessed age of innocence when I had no frigging idea of Craigh na Dun. Different light, same arresting view that plunges all the way to Argos and farther away, to the sea.

Cats rule the world. We know that (January 2023):

And then there's the Vault, half a mile down the road. If the Lions' Gate is about Space, the incorrectly named vault - a mausoleum, really - is about Time. Or rather the complete irrelevance of it:

Because I am not only stupid, but also nuts, I sometimes flip a coin, once inside. All binary answers were proven to be eerily accurate, with time. But things like this only show themselves to the believer. Last question asked is still technically up for confirmation, yet I - along with all of you here - know already it's a yes:

And yeah, I did it. What the heck. I had the place just for myself, and that is rare. Wouldn't you?

Mordor, I don't care about your pearl-clutching reaction. There is poetry to be found in the most unlikely of places. Especially in the most unlikely of places.

Walking back, I challenge you to pinpoint an exact year. It is impossible and there is a reason to it. This place and this view are timeless, of course:

In an unexpected, involuntary homage to the Atrides, the 354 inhabitants of modern Mykines still bury their dead all around Agamemnon's Vault.

Around an almost icy jug of Retsina wine, I asked my treasured friend V, the archaeologist: do you really think they ever left?

Are you nuts? And what would we do without them?

Coming back to a sweltering Athens, just imagine my head shake in disbelief watching Lasagna Lady once again clinging to that poor guy's T-shirt, the bickering between C's stans about who is the most telepath of them all and the wailings about the lack of secksay content in Episode 7.

Seriously, Fandom? Is this the best you can give me?

Episode I am hurrying to watch, nevertheless. But first, the laundry. Fair's fair.

[whisperedinmydreams]

Don't spoil my birthday

I don't know what's going on but my dreams are sad, dark and violent right now.

This one was very chaotic but it was mainly about my birthday. I was in a big city that I didn't know, and Nick said we were going out to celebrate. He had to do some stuff in the day but would meet me at the hotel later.

I had to entertain myself, but felt really depressed and so didn't really do much. I wandered around the city, having not showered, and not feeling very birthday.

I messaged a friend, Jnr, to see if anyone else was coming and they were all busy on a big project. I popped in there, and it was in a skyscraper with my old company which made me feel uncomfortable about who I would see.

One of the designers, Lea, had taken to being a beauty therapist of a very sophisticated kind and was annoyed that there were sex workers in the same building. She was really frustrated at being confused for them. It was awkward for me because I knew some of them.

I started chatted to my friend Ed, and they were scanning eyes to create landscapes from the stories within them. My eye was scanned, and as we zoomed deeper and deeper into it, people revealed themselves on my iris. It was like a Dali landscape dotted with people from my life, but unhinged surreal versions of themselves. I didn't like it so walked away.

The whole vibe of the city was like Gotham Vs Canary Wharf: big, shiny, and new, with canals and bridges everywhere, but also foggy, dark, REALLY off key, and all the people rushing not to be seen or outside. The mood was threatening.

Why were we here? Why did we stay in this place that wasn't safe? Even if it looked nice and had nice things, why were we doing this to ourselves?

I went back to the hotel, realising that I'd not showered and felt horrible. I bumped into Nick somewhere and there had been some confusion about my present... The vouchers weren't from him they were for him and so I couldn't have them. That upset me more.

By the time I reached our suite I felt horrible and was alone. Things couldn't feel worse. And I opened the door to see three guys clearing out our things into suitcases to steal them.

I ran over, leapt onto one of them to try to get him to stop. One guy ran out really quickly, and the third lingered by the exit for his friend.

I knocked out the one I had, and went to the door and convinced the third guy to come in to help his friend. I said if they left everything I'd just let them go.

I didn't.

He came in, and I dragged him by his ears and sat them both on the edge of the bed. But not the top of the bed. I'd lifted up the ottoman style base and sat them in there. Jnr (who has apparently turned up) was helping me get my tools ready and we were all set up. I'd had enough.

I told the men not to cry, not to piss themselves, not to fall asleep and to stay sat-up. Anything they did other than answer my questions and be still would be bad for them.

They were crying, with snot running down their faces. I definitely didn't recognise them. They were just random guys - one blond, white, with a kind of short bowl cut. He was slim and tall. Maybe in his early 20s. The other was pale brown skinned, with a shaved head, rounder face and stockier build. A little older than the other guy.

At this point a movie montage began, of what would happen to them. Strung up on chains bolted onto their back and arms, fed their own shit, having small areas of skin taken off, their fingers broken. All things which would cause extreme pain and not kill.

I had to wake up at this point, because the level of strange was getting too much. With last night and tonight they've not felt like nightmares either. They've been uncomfortable, yes, but not having the panic of a nightmare. Because I'm the nightmare monster, and everyone else was panicking.

I would like these dreams to stop now. This isn't a healthy habit for any brain.

[umichenginabroad]

WEEK 8: Brussels, Amsterdam, Last week in Prague

Dobry den!

I can’t believe it’s my second to last time writing that. I’m going to miss saying “dobry den” with my roommates when we go out because that’s the only word we know lol.

Last week, we went to our favorite bar that we always go to on Wednesdays: Vzorkovna (dog bar). We’re all going to miss that place soo much. They have a live music room that we always hang out in and we always see other students there from our program and it’s always such a fun time. 

We accidentally stayed out too late, and Alyse and I had to wake up at 5:30am to go to the airport, so we only got three hours of sleep. I don’t recommend this because the next day was a little rough, but I broke my 3 week caffeine cleanse to have a coffee that day which helped. This was our only trip we didn’t go on with our other roommates, so we definitely missed them, but we had this trip planned for months. Back in May, I saw that Coldplay was playing in Amsterdam while we were in Europe, so we decided to get tickets. I’ve seen videos of Coldplay concerts before, and they looked insanely cool, with lights, fireworks, and more. I knew this was a once in a lifetime experience because I’m not sure if they’re going on tour again, so we were very excited. 

We flew to Brussels Thursday morning and spent the day walking around. We wandered into a bunch of chocolate shops (Alyse and I have huge sweet tooth's so this was very fun for us), tried Belgian waffles (genuinely the best waffles we’ve ever had), and walked around to some museums, churches, gardens, etc. There wasn’t a ton to do in Brussels so I think 24 hours there was perfect, but we had a lot of fun trying the Belgian chocolate, waffles, and fries. 

Since we were running on three hours of sleep, we went to bed at like 9pm and got lots of sleep so we could be “mobile” in Amsterdam the next day. We took a three hour train to Amsterdam and there we met up with two of my friends from Michigan. One of them was studying abroad in London and when he saw that I was in Brussels, he booked a last minute flight to meet us in Amsterdam. The other one was interning in Barcelona and bought Coldplay tickets for Amsterdam a couple weeks ago. It was so fun to meet up with them since I hadn’t seen them in so long, and it was such a different dynamic to travel with guys (every trip has basically been just me and my three roommates, which we loved but it was fun to do something different). We also felt a lot safer walking around with two guys, because European men have been a little creepy towards us in the past.

On Friday, we walked around a little and stood in line for about 30 minutes to get these famous cookies I saw on Tik Tok. They were from Van Stapele, and they were soo good, definitely worth the wait. We also had a canal tour with unlimited drinks booked for Friday evening, which was super fun. The canal tour was so pretty and we got to learn about the history of the city while meeting other people on the boat, so I definitely recommend this. 

On Saturday, we had signed up for a two hour walking tour of the Jewish Quarter where we learned about Anne Frank and the Holocaust in Amsterdam. We tried to sign up for the tour of the Anne Frank house, but it was booked months in advance, so I definitely recommend signing up early for that. The walking tour was very interesting though, and we learned a lot. Afterwards, we walked around Amsterdam and tried some famous fries that I saw on Tik Tok from Fabel Frites, which were soo good (if you notice a common theme, I love to do my travel research on Tik Tok, and it usually doesn’t fail us).

Anne Frank statue and house

At night, we went to the Coldplay concert and it was incredible. I 100% recommend going to a concert in Europe if you study abroad, because it is such a unique experience. Also, the fact that my friends and I came from Prague, London, and Barcelona to meet up in Amsterdam for this concert was such a special experience and memory I’ll never forget. Our seats were pretty close to the stage so we had a good view, and it was an amazing concert. I love Coldplay songs and they did such a great job with the production and effects in their show. 

Sadly, we all had to say goodbye on Sunday and went home. Alyse and I basically slept all day on Sunday before going to Riegrovy Sady for a cider and to watch the sunset. I’m going to miss this, because there’s always so many people at the sunset, and I don’t really see that at parks in America.

On Tuesday after class, my friends and I went to the Prague Botanical Garden, which was so beautiful. We saw so many cool plants, flowers, insects, and fish. On the way home, we accidentally took the wrong tram and none of us realized until we were about 30 minutes outside of the city lol. It was very humbling that after 8 weeks in Prague, we went the wrong way on one of our last days. At night, we got a takeaway pizza and took it to Sunset Cinema, where we watched Pulp Fiction on the rooftop of a mall. It was so cool and we would’ve never known about it unless I saw a Tik Tok about it (another reason why Tik Tok is the best travel research tool). 

This week has been a little sad- we’ve been studying for finals, packing, and trying not to think about leaving each other and Prague. As much as I miss America and my friends and family, I’m so sad that this period of my life is over and I’ll never be a student in Prague again.

Weekly favorites:

Food: cheeseburger from Nase Maso (super good local butcher shop)

Cafe: Spell Coffee

Coffee: iced salted caramel coconut milk latte from Rose Latte (my all time favorite in Prague- going to miss it so much!) 

Restaurant: Johnny’s Pizza

Sight: Botanical Gardens

Sorry for the longer blog, we’ve been doing so much since it’s our last few days here! Thanks for tuning into another week in my life here! Only one more to go :((

Parker Peterson

Industrial and Operations Engineering

Engineering in Prague

[dsandrvk]

Thursday, May 25 - Kanazawa to Tokyo

We left the relative calm of Kanazawa for the big, big city of Tokyo, and a whole lot of people. We took the Shinkansen train to the Tokyo main station, and then a commuter train north a couple of stops to the Akihabara neighborhood, walked a couple of blocks to our hotel and dropped our bags. It was early enough for us to walk through an older neighborhood with lots of little restaurants and stores to the waterfront promenade along the Sumida River, the main river that empties into Tokyo Bay from the north. We followed this north to the Kaminarimon Gate, which eventually leads to the Senso-ji temple.

We had great views of the river, as well as some of the newer buildings and structures, such as the "Skytree" - a needle like tower that has replaced the Tokyo Tower as the place from which to view the city. In addition, there was this greenish gold thing on top of a building. It looked vaguely (to me) like some wasabi that had been piped out, but it turns out it is a sculpture called "Golden Flame" by a French artist. Not sure what the significance is, though.

Eventually we got far enough up the promenade that we were even with the Kaminarimon Gate, and walked over. I don't know what we were expecting, but it was an insane mob of selfie takers crammed in front of the gate, with women dressed in kimono and guys with very short shorts trying to get people to take rickshaw rides. Beyond the gate was a gauntlet of small shops mostly selling food and souvenirs, and also completely jammed, so that no one was moving much. The funny thing is, as we neared Senso-ji Temple itself, the crowds thinned out considerably - people weren't really there to visit the temple, but rather to get a picture of themselves visiting the temple area. In addition to many women in kimono, there was this Italian fellow with a tall blonde on his arm and a videographer, complete with microphone, accompanying him and filming his every move and interaction. Other people must have thought he was someone famous (and maybe he is), and were asking to take his picture.

After wandering around the temple area, away from most of the crowds, we decided to take a subway and then a train back to our hotel, since it would have been so another 2-3 miles back to walk, and we still hadn't checked in. We did manage a nice dinner after a free drinks bar (this hotel appears to be part of the same chain that we stayed at in Fukuoka) and then a good last onsen soak. Our hotel has a little balcony off of the breakfast/evening drinks area that overlooks the canal and neighborhood and provided us with a good view of the colorfully lit Skytree. We don't have to get to our ship until mid-afternoon tomorrow so we still will have time for more Tokyo exploration tomorrow.

Notes on the photos - the first three are from this morning in Kanazawa - the entrance to the train station, a typical breakfast from our hotel (first pass on the buffet) and a little mascot for something coming up at the train station. The illustrated panel was part of a series along the promenade - I think it should be titled "Ladies Day Out". The mountain scenery is shot from the train, and still shows a lot of snow in the "Japanese Alps". And the last photo is a group of little "fish" lamps that probably look great at night.

We knew Tokyo would be crowded, and it is, but there is an undeniable energy here, with lots of young people hurrying around, and office workers dressed in their work place "uniforms" of black suits and white shirts. There was quite a lot of diversity in the way the younger set was dressed - colorful hair, vintage style dresses, jeans and t-shirts and even tattoos, which would have been unthinkable even a few years ago. It feels like a great rebellion from the conformity of the past. Even mask wearing has been more spotty than in the more rural areas. The Japanese were quick to comply with mask mandates, and throughout the country we have seen many worn everywhere, even inside private cars with no passengers and biking outdoors on a trail. But at least half the population isn't wearing masks, even in crowded areas. On the other hand we didn't see a single Westerner (other than us) wearing a mask, even in stores or on a train. It's just surprising that so many Japanese aren't bothering with masks as anymore. Some places at breakfast they sanitized our hands and then we used gloves to handle the tongs and other items, and in other places, it was pretty much a free-for-all. So conformity is taking a hit here, and I don't think it will go back to the old ways.

We will have one more day in Japan after tomorrow when we stop in Hakodate on Hokkaido on our way north and east, and then it will be on to the Us and Canada. The time has really flown by.

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[triptuckers]

New In Town (part two) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: you're exploring ketterdam and happen to overhear an interesting conversation Warnings:  none Word count: 2.6K A/N: ketterdam my beloved <3 <3 <3 PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler@romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza@whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @tomridlessecretvampiredemigod TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here (bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason!)

You spend the first weeks wandering around the city, getting to know the streets, canals, and its secrets. Every morning you wake up early to leave the pub when the regulars aren't there yet.

You like Ketterdam in the morning. It seemed like everyone collectively decided to sleep in every day. When walking the empty streets, you feel like the city belongs to you, even though you only arrived a couple of weeks ago.

During your short stay, you couldn't help but to develop some habits and routines. Normally, you made sure no one could figure out your habits and favorite spots, but somehow you felt like nobody in Ketterdam cared enough to pay attention to an outsider like you.

Especially when said outsider definitely didn't look rich.

Your clothes had worn out, because you hadn't taken your bag with you and had spent all of your money on rent for your room. But the owner of the building had agreed to give you a job at the pub.

You made a little money on the nights you worked as a bartender. You saved part of it, and spend part of it on clothes. First was a shirt, that was slightly too big but at least it didn't have stains on it or holes in it.

Next up was a new pair of pants. You picked them out carefully, buying one with wide legs so you could easily hide your weapons. It also has a lot of pockets, which was useful as well.

You then bought a new coat. It was a long, black coat. Perfect for wrapping it tightly around you and disappearing into the shadows during the nights you were on the streets.

Your boots weren't worn out just yet, so you hadn't spend money on a new pair. You kept your old clothes at the room, in case you needed a change of clothes. Old ones were better than no clothes at all.

With every piece of clothing you bought, you felt more like you had been in Ketterdam for a long time. Part of you felt like you needed to blend in, and buying Kerch clothes was a perfect way to do so.

You wake up on a particular sunny day. At first, you're excited to spend the day walking around the city, exploring the outer edges of the city.

But your good mood soon disappears when you remember you have an extra long shift to work at the pub today.

It's not like you particularly enjoy working at the pub. Most of the guests seem to think they can do anything to you when they're drunk.

The regulars know not to mess with you, but the new customers weren't around to witness you break three fingers of a guy who put his hand on your waist.

Even though less people messed with you now, there are still some who believe they can convince you to have a drink with them. You always have to smile and politely refuse, telling them you're working.

You'd much rather work your usual jobs, but you had yet to find out how to get someone to notice you. You didn't trust the gangs - yet. Simply because you didn't know enough about them.

Sure, you had the guts to march into whatever their main building was, but if you didn't have any dirt on them, it wouldn't be very useful. Besides, you'd much rather watch them try to anxiously get you to forget the information you had gathered.

You loved to have your clients beg for their pride when they double crossed you, or hadn't paid you enough. But you didn't dare to walk into a house full of trained gang members simply because your job at the pub was dull.

It was boring, and your skills were useless, but at least you got paid. It was just enough to cover the rent of the room, but a little money is still better than none at all.

If you could just find out some more information on the different gangs, you'd be able to join one of them, using the secrets you discover as leverage.

It's not like you had always wanted to join a gang. But the streets of Ketterdam are more dangerous than the ones in Ravka or Fjerda. Being part of a gang provided protection. You knew no one would touch you if you were part of a gang. Except maybe members of rival gangs, but you could handle those.

But for now, you're stuck serving rich tourists and drunk regulars.

Though it was a boring job and nothing exciting really happened, you did learn a lot by listening to their conversations. Gang members didn't often come to the pub, but guards, merchant's servants and advisors, people of the Stadwatch and other interesting people did.

You'd already learned a great deal about them by listening to their conversations. As someone who worked at the pub, you could come closer without any of them getting suspicious.

If only some gang members came in for a drink, you'd be able to listen in on their conversations as well. But you figured they'd have their own clubs, or other pubs they like to go to.

After a quick breakfast and a morning walk in the sun, you're already back at the pub, getting ready to start your shift.

Luckily, there aren't many people in the pub this early. You spend your time washing glasses, occasionally serving people, tiding up the place.

Around noon, it starts to get busier. But that's also when more people start their shifts, so you don't have to do all of it on you own. Even though it's busier the later the hour gets, it's still boring to you.

The same people are there and they order the same drinks, making the same lame jokes, hoping to make you laugh. The best you can do is a forced smile which disappears as soon as you turn your back on them.

When your shift is almost over, you're standing behind the bar. You're cleaning the glasses people used today, trying not to zone out as you stare at the open doors on the other side of the pub.

People are laughing and talking loudly, but it all seems oddly far away from you.

Suddenly, your coworker nudges your shoulder and gestures with her head to the entrance.

'They're not regulars, are they?' she says.

You look at the people she pointed out. Two boys around your age walked in the pub. One of them is tall, curls falling down on his forehead, and there's a grin on his face.

The other one is shorter, leaning on a cane and dressed head to toe in black, as if he's going to attend a funeral. Unlike the other boy, he doesn't have a smile on his face. Instead, he walks to the nearest table and sits down, signalling to the bar.

Your coworker wants to approach them, but you're faster.

'I've got this one.' you say with a smile.

You didn't see many people like this in your pub, and your curiosity got the better of you. Besides, you hadn't seen them in the city, making you believe they are from the parts of the city you rarely go to.

And since it's not weird for a bartender to make small talk, you approach them with a smile.

'Good evening!' you say cheerfully. 'How can I help you today?'

'Hello love!' says the taller boy as he returns your smile. 'I'll have a beer.'

'Great choice.' you say.

You turn to the other one, quickly scanning him up and down and noticing he's wearing gloves. Which seems odd, since it's such a nice sunny day. But then again, there are a lot of odd people in Ketterdam.

'And what can I get you, sir?' you say.

Just as he looks at you and wants to answer you, the taller boy speaks up again.

'You don't have to call us sir, you know, we're basically the same age.' he says.

'And how would you know that?' you say.

'I'm a good gambler.' he says, leaning back in his chair.

You see how the other boy raises his eyebrows at him.

'He's not a good gambler.' he says. 'I'm good.'

'You sure you don't want anything to drink?' you say, deciding to see if you can find out more about them. 'You're in a pub after all, and we've got some good stuff.'

'I'm good.' he says again, more firmly, indicating you don't have to ask again.

'Alright then.' you say. You turn to the taller boy again. 'I'll come back shortly, with your beer.'

'Thanks.' he says with a wink.

You smile at him and walk back to the bar. You notice your coworker was a little too late to subtly look away.

'What were you talking about?' she asks.

'What they want to drink.' you simply say, reaching out to take a beer and open it.

'And?' she presses on.

'And that's it. The other one didn't want anything to drink.' you say.

'Why's he dressed like that?' she says.

You shrug. 'Tell me the answer when you ask him.' you say.

You walk back to the two and notice how they quickly cut off their conversation. With a smile, you set the beer down in front of the tall boy.

'There you go.' you say. 'Enjoy.'

He thanks you, and you turn to the dark-haired boy again.

'Are you sure I can't get you something?' you say.

He briefly shakes his head. You turn back to the taller boy again. Apparently, he's the talkative one.

'So, you're a gambler?' you say to him.

'I can't say no to a game of cards every now and then.' he says.

Before you can ask him another question, the other boy speaks up again.

'Jesper, cut the small talk.' he says.

So the taller one was called Jesper, that's at least a start.

The tall one, Jesper, looks offended. 'I can have a conversation, Kaz, relax.' he says. He turns back to you. 'You a gambler?' he says.

You shake your head. 'I never really understood it. And I haven't gotten a chance to go to one of the gambling halls yet.' you say.

'You should tag along some time, I can teach you the basics.' says Jesper.

'That would be amazing.' you say, surprised at how easy it is to get Jesper to engage in a conversation. You wonder what else you can learn about him.

Unfortunately, a large group of tourists enter the pub, loudly telling you to come and take their orders. You don't bother to hide the disgust and annoyance on your face.

'Looks like I'll have to pass. I'm working, after all.' you say. 'Let me know if I can get you guys anything else.'

'You got it.' says Jesper as you walk over to the large group of tourists.

Of all the people that stopped by for a drink, you loathed tourists the most. They always seemed to think that if they were in a different country, basic rules about human decency didn't apply.

They're loudly shouting their orders at you and as you walk back to the bar to get their drinks, you can feel their eyes on you. No doubt they were talking about you.

You bring them their drinks with a forced smile, ignoring their horrible flirting. The second you turn your back on them, you let your smile disappear. You then catch Jesper's eye, who had been looking at your encounter with the tourists.

'Tourists are all the same.' you say as you walk up to him to retrieve his empty beer glass.

'They look nice.' he tries.

'They're assholes.' you say. 'Every tourist that comes in here thinks because I'm a bartender they can shamelessly flirt with me and pull me closer. But they give excellent tips, so I can't really complain.'

'If you don't like serving them, why not get a different job?' asks Jesper.

'Because I need the money.' you say. 'Don't really have a lot of choice. Can I get you anything else?'

'Another beer, please.' he says.

'Jesper.' says the other boy.

You turn to look at him, you almost forgot he was there. Jesper had taken off his coat, but Kaz was still wearing his long black coat and gloves.

'No more drinks, I need you sober for this.' says Kaz.

'Okay, dad.' says Jesper. 'He never lets me do anything fun.' he then whispers to you, loud enough for Kaz to hear.

'I'll leave you two to it, then.' you say.

You walk away from their table to clean a table of a couple who just left the bar. Normally, you'd do a quick sweep and head back to serving customers.

But something about Jesper and Kaz has gotten your attention. Jesper seems like a cheerful, fun person to be around. Kaz, on the other hand, looks like he hasn't smiled in his entire life. You wondered why they would go to a pub together.

You take out a piece of cloth and start to slowly clean the table, but focusing on Jesper and Kaz behind you. They're talking in such hushed voices, you're having a hard time understanding them.

But you do manage to hear a few sentences of their conversation.

'We enter as guards, Nina, Matthias and Inej go in disguised as party guests.' says Kaz in a low voice.

'Why can't I be a party guest as well?' says Jesper.

'Because we can't afford you to drink and flirt, we need to to confirm that diamond necklace is the real thing.' says Kaz. 'So we move quickly and don't attract too much attention.'

'Fine.' says Jesper. 'But next time we're crashing a merchant's party, I get to be one of the party guests as well. I want to have a good time.'

You quickly straighten your back and walk past them, back to the bar. You didn't want to give them the idea you'd been listening to their conversation.

So they were planning on robbing some rich woman who owned a diamond necklace. And Jesper would be the one to confirm the diamonds are real. Only Grisha could do that. And there were more on their crew, at least three more. If you could figure out what party they had been talking about, you could try and get in as well.

As you're standing behind the bar, talking to one of your coworkers, you see Jesper and Kaz get up. While standing in the doorway, Jesper waves happily at you. Kaz is already out of the pub.

You smile and wave back at him.

If only he knew that in just a few minutes, you had discovered they'd steal a priceless necklace, and that they were gang members. Because who else would dare to steal a necklace someone would be wearing at a crowded party?

Only gangs would be bold enough to do something like that. You didn't know what gang they were part of, but that wasn't the kind of information you need to acquire. Right now, all you had to do was find out where and when the party was being held.

You could be quicker than them, and snatch the diamonds away from them. You could buy yourself a nice new set of knives, or rent a bigger room.

Either way, you were going to get a lot of money.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 4

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My Photo Edit)

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕓𝕪𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕔𝕖, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy woke up really early due to light streaming into his room. The sun was coming up. He couldn’t bring himself to close the curtains the previous night - after all, the view was the big thing in this hotel, wasn’t it? He rearranged his pillows so that he could still lie in bed but also tipped his head up enough so he could see the view.

It was too early to go along to her room yet, so he’d laze a little, shower and then he’d go. He hoped that her anger had cooled overnight, as the two of them really had to have a conversation. Not that he was looking forward to that conversation, but he realised that if he wanted to have even an outside chance of getting her back, he had to man up and tell her the truth. He had the distinct feeling that If he only told her part of it - a sanitised version of what had happened - she’d see right through him and that would be that.

He laughed out loud.... god he hadn’t even slept with the woman, but if he’d known the shitstorm that was going to be stirred up by all of this, maybe he should’ve just damn well done it!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Meanwhile, you sat at the departure gate waiting for the boarding call. You’d always wanted to visit your next destination so while you were sad to leave Barcelona, you felt excited to be on your way.

With a little smile, you thought that the only real regret you had was you wouldn’t be there to see the expression on Billy’s face when he realised you’d skipped town again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

As soon as he’d had that thought a little voice inside his head had said, if you had then you’d never ever get her back and you know it. Yeah, he did know it. So it was just as well I didn’t, he acknowledged to himself. Some no-strings sex with Madani wasn’t worth wrecking what he’d had with her.

Now he just had to hope that he wasn’t already too late to salvage that.

Billy stepped out onto the 20th floor landing then began walking up the red corridor to her room. He spotted a cleaning cart in the corridor - wait, that wasn’t outside her room, was it? No, it couldn’t be. But he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach the nearer he got.

He came to a halt next to the cart, and looked at the room number on the door for confirmation but he knew it before he even saw it.

She’d run out on him again.

Billy cursed loudly then swung round on his heel and headed back to the lifts. He took his phone out as he walked, hitting a starred number. It rang for a while then a grouchy voice said, “Yeah, what?”

“Micro? Got another job for you.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After clearing Customs and Passport Control you walked briskly out of the terminal building, following a sign indicating where you needed to go. You were getting more and more impatient to get to the city by the minute, but you knew you had to make sure you picked the correct coloured route, as they went to different destinations.

Standing on the jetty at Marco Polo Airport, you waited patiently along with other passengers for the Alilaguna airport boat to moor alongside it and which would then take you to Venice.

La Serenissima. The city which floats on a lagoon.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank listened to what Micro had to say, then exploded. “Oh for fuck’s sake!!! This is gettin’ out of control. Yeah okay, do his search then let me know - not him - what you find out.”

He ended the call and threw his phone onto the bedside table. He’d have to speak to Bill, this was too much.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was in a temper. He threw his clothes and toiletries into his duffel bag and zipped it up viciously. Nothing from Micro yet and he had to check out of his room now. He’d just have to sit in the bar/lounge downstairs and have a drink or two until he did hear back.

An hour and two whiskies later (yes, he’d thought as the barman’s eyebrows raised up at his request, it is damn early for a whisky but you have no idea what I’m going through), Billy was getting more and more impatient. Then his phone buzzed, but hope sank like a stone when he saw it was Frank.

“I guess he called you, then?” Billy said as soon as he answered the call. “Yep,” said Frank, “...he did. And this is the last one, Bill, you hear me?” “It’s not my fault she keeps flyin’ off t’different places!” whined Billy. “It’s your damn fault she took off in the first place, dumbass!” growled Frank and Billy said nothing as he couldn’t argue with that.

“Where’s she gone, Frankie?” he asked after a short silence. “Venice.” “Ah shit!!! Back to the States? Didn’t see that coming.” “Not Venice Beach, Bill... Venice, Italy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You settled yourself onto the wooden bench inside the vaporetto which would take you on the short hop across the wide Giudecca Canal from Palanca to Zattere. Vaporetti were the Venetian equivalent of public transport but a hugely more pleasurable experience. What would you rather hop on - a bus or a ferry? Yeah, definitely a ferry! You’d decided to stay on Giudecca instead of the main islands as it had a calmer, more relaxed vibe and tourists were much less in evidence.

Karen had texted you as you were getting unpacked in your small but cute room. Your hotel was surrounded by residential gardens and a narrow canal on one side; when you went out onto the large balcony, all you could hear was birdsong and the church bells of Venice. It was heavenly.

But Karen’s text had brought you down somewhat; Billy was on your track again. He’d been told by Frank that they weren’t going to help him out any longer, but you weren’t convinced that would put him off. Billy was the most stubborn sonuvabitch you’d ever met. Looking out the vaporetto windows, you saw a majestic tall ship making its way imperiously up the canal followed by a small tug like a lady in waiting, and wondered where it was sailing off to.

Sighing, you gathered up your bag as the vaporetto docked at Zattere and prepared to disembark. Maybe it was time to just sit down and have ‘that talk’ with him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy, meanwhile, was waiting impatiently for his flight to start boarding in Barcelona airport. He just had to pin her down this time. No more escaping him and the talk they had to have.

He marvelled at the fact that in Europe, you were never really that far from your next destination. Here he was in Spain and in less than two hours’ time, he’d be in Italy. He’d bought a travel guide to Venice in one of the airport stores and settled down to read it.

Frank had given him the name and location of her hotel, somewhere called Giudecca. He didn’t have the first fucking clue as to where that was, so he’d better find out and quickly. Okay…. here was a map. Venice seemed to be divided into six sestiere or areas… hmmm no mention of Giudecca. Oh right, here it was, a large island out on its own across the Giudecca Canal from Venice.

He pinpointed the hotel on the map and felt a lot more relaxed.

I know where you are now, kitten.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Escaping from the crowd of tourists in Piazza San Marco into the relative peace of Caffé Florian, you sat down and ordered a horribly expensive cappuccino and pastry from the impassive waiter. But it was worth it just to soak up the historical atmosphere. You looked round the opulently decorated and gilded interior and opened up your guide book; it had opened in 1720 and scores of famous faces had passed through its doors or listened to its musicians outside. Wow - Casanova, Lord Byron, Charles Dickens, Ernest Hemingway, Charlie Chaplin, Clark Gable, Andy Warhol. The list went on and on.

Coffee finished, you wandered out of Florian’s and back along the Piazetta next to the Doge’s Palace. There was an arched bridge - the Ponte della Paglia - on the waterfront from which you could see the world-famous Bridge of Sighs, and you joined the huddle of tourists at the top of the bridge to eventually make it to the front and take a picture of it. Your guide book told you the bridge was so called because after their trials, condemned prisoners would be taken from the Doge’s Palace over the small canal at its side to the prison, and their last sight of Venice would be from the bridge. Hence the ‘sighs’.

Next, you walked along to the Arsenale, the huge historical shipyard where Venice had built her vast number of ships which had enabled her to have a huge trading empire. It had been said that they’d been able to construct a fully equipped warship in one day. But that was long in the past, you thought as you looked at an array of stone lion statues outside its main entrance and a bust of Dante set onto the wall.

Turning away, you headed to the vaporetto stop of the same name and waited for the Line 1 vaporetto to arrive and take you on a sail up the Grand Canal.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Yet again, Billy was in a bad mood. After a couple of false starts, he’d eventually managed to make his way onto the correct Alilaguna boat at Marco Polo and had alighted at Zitelle on Giudecca.

But now here he was - walking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards - along the waterfront, trying to find out where this damn fucking hotel was. He just couldn’t find it! Where the hell was it?

Billy spotted a guy around his own age walking towards him and stepped in front of him, asking politely in English if he could help him find this hotel. A stream of Italian burst forth and the guy must’ve realised that Billy didn’t understand one word, as he then took his arm and pulled him along the waterfront a little. He stopped and gestured towards one of the narrowest damn alleyways Billy had ever seen, quite near the vaporetto stop.

He thanked the guy effusively and set off up the alleyway. There were peoples’ houses on each side of it and he tried not to be too nosy as he walked past them. But echoing within the walls of the alley he could hear voices, children’s laughter, a football match on a TV, a dog barking… talk about living on top of each other. He wasn’t sure he could live like that but then it just depended on what you were used to, he supposed.

Arriving in a small open area leading to a canal and a bridge over it - Corte Ferrando, he saw on a sign - he found the Giudecca Hotel right on the corner next to the canal. At last!!!

Walking in to the small but light and airy reception area, he dumped his bag next to reception and asked the guy behind the desk if he could book a room. “Certainly, signore, how many nights would that be for?” Billy shrugged, saying, “I’ll make it for two nights for now, but maybe I’ll need to extend that, I’m not sure.” “That is no problem. Can I have your passport please, signore?”

Billy handed it over, thinking as he did, going by her recent history it might be only the one night!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You stepped off the vaporetto at Rialto. Well, you just had to walk over the famous bridge and be a total tourist didn’t you, stopping to take a picture looking back down the Grand Canal. You’d gazed at all the big palazzi lining the waterway as the vaporetto zig-zagged its way between all the stops on the canal. They were certainly impressive, but they also had a faded, melancholic air about them.

Some of them had been converted into museums, some rented out on long or short-term leases by their owners, or they were now owned by foreigners who only stayed in them for a handful of weeks each year. When the festivals were taking place… Carnevale, the Biennale, the Film Festival. The rest of the year they lay empty and lonely, no doubt steeped in dreams of the lavish masked balls and elegant dinner parties from centuries past, while the noble Venetian families who used to own them lived in modern condos in Mestre on the mainland, no longer in their beloved Venezia. How sad, you thought.

Heading back to the vaporetto stop, you decided you’d go to Accademia, have a look round the art gallery, visit the huge and famous church Santa Maria della Salute and then wander round the artisan shops in Dorsoduro, perhaps have a glass of vino in one of the cute little wine bars.

You were determined to make this afternoon and evening last for as long as you could. Billy would no doubt be waiting for you when you got back to Giudecca.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The man himself hadn’t even bothered unpacking this time, just in case. He’d had a quick shower and then had taken a short stroll around the local area. He noticed very few tourists and decided this was why she’d chosen it. He knew she’d prefer to sample the local life more than the tourist traps.

Not wanting to spend too much time away from the hotel, he made his way back and sat outside on the lone park bench in the courtyard area. He started running over in his mind what he was going to say to her, to be honest he still wasn’t sure how to frame it so that she wouldn’t go ballistic.

His stomach knotted. Who was he kidding? Of course she was going to go ballistic! He was about to admit he’d made out on more than one occasion with another woman. And irrespective of the fact that it had been strictly business from his point of view, his girl was not going to be the least bit impressed with him.

Fuck, I’ve really screwed this up, he allowed himself to think for the first time. He’d made his brain block out this uncomfortable thought what with all the chasing after her in the previous few days. He’d been telling himself over and over that everything would all be alright.

But now he thought… would it? Would it really?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Returning on the vaporetto to Palanca, you felt yourself starting to tense up. You knew Billy would either have arrived by now or would very shortly.

Whatever he had to say to to you, you knew you weren’t going to like it. The evidence was too strong that he’d been cheating on you and you weren’t going to let him off the hook for that. The problem was, you loved the stupid douchebag. But how could you trust him now, after he’d been seeing another woman? In some ways, it was worse that it was just the one. And you were sure it was just one, if the perfume evidence was anything to go by. It would almost have been better if he’d gone back to his old tom-catting ways, quantity over quality to coin Frank’s phrase. Your stomach twisted as you remembered him saying to you that at last Billy had reversed that equation when he got with you. But if he was seeing just the one? That was bad.

You began walking up the alleyway and as you reached the open area, you saw a figure sitting on the park bench, the back of a dark head. Billy.

Squaring your shoulders and feeling as if you were about to go into battle, you walked steadily towards him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Venice

(My Photos/video 3 & 7 / June 2012 & 2016)

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @theshadowkingsqueen @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3 @bat-luna-cat

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[troubatrain]

delicate - m. barzal

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

You walked down Canal St, cursing Mat for making you come this far downtown in the middle of a Saturday afternoon to the Lower East Side. You knew why he did it, the perfect distance between your place in You opened the door of the dive bar, and spotted Mat in the back corner, pizza in front of him with two beers waiting for you.

“Please don’t ever make me come this far down Canal St again in my life Mathew,” You say, sliding into the booth and taking a sip of the drink that was waiting, “Also can you have picked a sadder place?”

Mathew’s smile was on full display, “You told me lowkey?”

“I told you lowkey because you’re obsessed with the notion that someone might see us, eating a meal together,” You say, referencing an agreement you’d made when you guys started hooking up. 

“Do you really want all of that bullshit that goes along with people seeing us, be honest,” Mathew deadpans, a knowing look on his face.

You knew he was right, he’d seen people’s lives torn apart the second someone found out on the internet that he was seeing them. He’s seen it happen to his teammates and he really just wanted to keep you safe. You had your own successes and you did enjoy your privacy.

“Okay fine, why’d you wanna see me anyways?” You reluctantly agree.

“Oh, um I’m playing at MSG tomorrow, if you were interested?” Mat offers, hoping maybe you’d come if the game was at least in Manhattan.

“You made me come all the way here to ask me to go to your game?” You ask.

“Okay I was also hungry, and I wanted to see your pretty face,” Mat compliments, a smirk gracing his lips, “Among other things.”

“You could’ve cut the middle man and brought take out to my apartment,” You say back.

“Can I try and keep the romance alive, taking you to a nice lunch before I go back to your place and fuck you into your mattress,” Mat says, causing you to laugh.

Mathew really was a good guy, and in another life, you did think you could be in a relationship. He was nice, and he did actually respect you. He’d won over your roommate, always remembering to bring her food or coffee when he would bring it for you. He was honest with you, always and he never did anything without your consent. But, you were both twenty two and living in New York, there was no reason to settle down. Mat’s schedule was hectic, and quite frankly so was yours, you both barely found the time to have sex.

“Wow, maybe people should see us, so I can post on Instagram how romantic you are,” You joke.

The two of you spend the lunch catching up, you ranting about how awful your week was, Mat knowing you’ve been having a rough time at work. When the two of you started hooking up, you guys kept things about your lives private- trying to keep yourselves from catching feelings. But, when you’d gone over to his apartment and he could feel how stressed you were from how tense your shoulders were under his touch. You two didn’t even have sex that night, he’d run you a bath, and the two of you sat in the tub while you ranted and raved about how your boss was driving you absolutely insane. Thing’s had shifted that night, and the two of you never went back. You were sincerely Mat’s friend and you knew he was yours. There was a fine line between your friendship staying as a friendship and Mat and yourself were definitely walking on it but for the time being you just didn’t care.

--

You step into Madison Square Garden, the Islanders set to take on the Rangers and you knew it was a big game. You were a big Ranger fan growing up, your father was still a huge fan, but you hadn’t caught a game in a while. It never stopped you from giving Mat shit for playing for the Islanders even though he knew you really didn’t care much at all. Mat had left you and your roommate tickets, right against the glass. You watched as Mat skated around for his pregame skate, and you had to admit, the whole hot athlete thing wasn’t something you totally got. But, watching him skate around the ice with his hair on full display you were starting to.

“Maybe I should have gone to one of his games earlier,” you say to your roommate, eyes never leaving Mat.

“You’re drooling,” your roommate says, “Remind me not to come home tonight.”

“Are you going to stay at your boyfriend’s?” You ask, curious if you’d be able to have Mat over without bothering her.

“I planned on it,” she says, blushing a little bit at the mention of the guy she’d been seeing lately. You had yet to meet him, but she was spending an awful lot of time there.

The game was well underway when you started to eavesdrop on the two girls behind you, gossip about players on both teams.

“I wonder if Barzal is single?” The one girl asks, your ears perking up at the sound.

“No, I read on the internet he’s some girl in Vancouver that he flies out,” The girl says, as if she knew this was a fact. Your skin crawled at the comment, and you weren’t sure why. Mat wasn’t yours and he didn’t owe you any sort of explanations.

The Islanders ended up with a big win, Mat tying the game with a few seconds left and taking it to overtime in which he ended the game with another goal. You wanted to be happy, knowing exactly what mood Mat was after a big win, but you couldn’t be because you couldn’t stop thinking about those girls behind you.

You’d met Mat outside of MSG, him slipping out easily, hair still wet from his post game shower. He grabbed your face immediately, planting a kiss on your lips in the middle of Midtown.

“Good game?” You ask, knowing exactly why he so boldly kissed you in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I mean it was okay,” He smiles, waving down a taxi and giving the driver your address. Mat’s hand immediately lands on your thigh, his face filled with concern when he realizes how tense his hand was making you.

“Are you okay?” He asks lowly, not to bother your taxi driver.

“Fine, we’ll talk later,” You say, sighing and laying your head on his shoulder. It wasn’t his fault you were being a jealous brat, and you didn’t want him to have to worry about it.

Mat nods, his hand moving to play your hair, something he knew you liked when you were upset. You take the ride to your place in silence, taking in the city streets as you head downtown. You head up to your apartment, letting Mat in behind you. He sits on your couch, kicking off his dress shoes.

“Alright spill,” Mat demands, “Did I do something? You never tense up like that with me.”

“No you didn’t do anything,” You sigh, “It’s just- you know what nevermind.”

“No, it’s just what?” Mat asks.

“These girls behind me were talking about you and girls from back home that you fly out and all of this stuff and you don’t owe me shit but I was a little jealous,” you blurt out.

Mat smiles, long arms grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him, both of your legs straddling his waist, “Babe, I’m yours, no one else’s.”

The simple statement felt like a different page of your relationship was about to be written. You planted your lips on his, his moving to your back almost as an instinct. The two you moved in sync with each other until you finally pulled away, your forehead leaning against Mat’s.

“Mine,” You whisper, planting a quick peck on his lips.

“Yours,” Mat smiles, kissing you again slowly.

[t-lostinworlds]

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [2]

A/N: First off, i would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support on part 1, it truly means the world to me <3 second, i am so sorry for the long wait but here we are! thank you for your patience you kind angels! Hope you guys like this as much as the first aha! x

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom realises what you two had and everything that he wasted. He realises he needed to fight for you and that he can’t lose you for good. But will he be able to make things right and have you back in his arms again or will it be too late?

Warnings: heart wrenching angst, a lot of crying from both persons, a bit of fluff but it’s flashbacks and typos?

Word Count: 14.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

NOTE: Flashbacks are in Italics

-:-:-:-:-

Where does Tom start?

Well, he can start with the fact that he's miserable. The fact that he's a disgusting piece of shit who deserves nothing but to be miserable, no less, maybe more.

You were so good to him, too good. You treated him more than he deserved. Even after what he did, even after he betrayed you, never did you treat him any less of man when in fact, he deserves to be treated like shit.

With a heart as kind as yours, when you showed him nothing but pure love, how could he have done what he did? A question so heavy as Tom asks himself as to why, but only ends up empty, it only ends up unanswered.

This makes him feel even more stupid. A downright disgrace given that he's ruined something so precious and special all for nothing, not even for something remotely worth it.

He could say he did it for sex, which is really rotten no matter the circumstance, doesn't make things better even by the littlest bit. But even then, it still wasn't worth it. He threw away so much just for sex? What a shallow reason to destroy such a beautiful relationship isn't it?

Quite frankly, nothing he will ever say will make things better. Not a single reason would justify the way he broke such a kind heart that gave him nothing but blissful happiness, gave him the truest forms of love.

The damage has already been done, he's already destroyed everything, hearts and trusts turned to nothing but fractured pieces.

Just how could he? How could he have done that to you?

You didn't deserve any of it.

All the times he's ignored you, made you feel unwanted. The countless times he's pushed you away and hurt you with his angry words. Hell, just the fact that he's made you feel like you weren't enough was a crime in itself.

Tom has been with you for three years, three fucking years, and during that time you had always been enough, more than enough. But that's the thing, realization and regret always comes last, always comes when it's too late.

You only realize just how much something is worth until you lose it.

It's been hours since you left, and Tom feels so utterly lost.

You we're his true north and now that you're gone, he was lost. Lost on where he'll go from here, lost on what to do, lost on who he's become.

A part of him knew he should've chased after you, but then what? He doesn't know what more he could say. He was still in deep doubt if he was fixing things or breaking it further if he continued to run his mouth. He at least needs to get his mind straight, get himself together or he'll say something that will make things even worse than it already is.

Tom sulked in bed right after everything, right after he heard that front door shut. He let himself drown in his tears and his regretful thoughts, both overwhelming him to the point that he passed out without even realizing.

Now, here he was, fully awake but still in bed. The sun was on its highest but Tom had no clue what time it was. With a broken phone, there was no way of telling unless he moves to grab a watch. But he doesn't really feel like moving. He just wants to rot in bed — or in hell as he rightfully deserves — and do absolutely nothing.

The whole house was eerily quiet and very cold, and he doesn't want to explore its state when he knows how it was coated with so much warmth before, your warmth. Was this how it felt for you when he doesn't come home? If so, then Tom feels even more of a shitty person than he already is.

But the world won't stop its course just to wait for him now won't it? So despite it all, Tom willed himself to get up and out of bed with a heavy heart, pushed himself to at least do the next right thing, whatever it may be.

Feet dragging against the tiled floor, Tom reached the living room with a broken sigh. His bloodshot eyes landed on the number of frames on top of the fireplace, photos upon photos of you and him, his frown deepening as the pain squeezed at his heart.

He walked over and took one in his hand, the one where Tom had an arm wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners as both of you smiled wide and bright, the calming view of the Grand Canal just behind you as you explore the wondrous city of Venice.

The photo was taken by Harry during the shooting of Spider-Man: Far From Home, where you traveled with him and supported him from the first day to the very last.

It was such an innocent picture, mundane even, but so many memories came flooding inside Tom's mind with one simple look. And slowly but surely he was reminded how it used to be, how happy you both were just being together. Tom was reminded how special, how real it was, what you two had.

It doesn't even end with just the pictures, the whole house was a constant reminder too all the things he's wasted, all the beautiful things that made him feel nothing but pride and joy, utter euphoria to have such a wonderful woman in his life.

The whole house that was littered with all things you, from every room to every hall, from your precious laughter to the gorgeous sounds of pleasure that once bounced off the very same walls. Tom can still hear it, replaying inside his head loud and taunting to not let him forget each blissful memory that composed of you and him.

But now it's tainted by his blatant mistake, spoiled by his scandalous choices and he will never be able to forgive himself for that.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom wiped the tears that slipped down his cheek with the back of his hand. He brought the frame up to his shirt to rid of the droplets that coated the glass, returning it back gently, carefully in sheer fear that he'll break it if he wasn't cautious enough.

Tom knows he owes you countless amounts of apologies, and at least a proper closure. He wasn't going to let last night be the end of it all, he knows he needs to talk to you. He needs to answer whatever question you have, and tell you what he truly feels. He just knows that the demons in your head are relentless. In whatever way he can, he needs to appease your mind with nothing but honesty so that it won't eat you up from the inside out.

He won't be able to live with himself even more if he just leaves you to blame yourself for his choices. And he's not going to stop until it sticks with you that this was nowhere near your fault. This was all on him, and he has to make sure you understand that loud and clear.

So right after he's bought a new phone, he drove towards the only place he knows where you'll be.

***

"Come on guys, open up," Tom tried again, knuckles rapping at the wooden door for the tenth time.

He's been outside the twins' house for roughly fifteen minutes now, and it's either no one was home or they were ignoring him. He figured it was the latter for obvious reasons, and he was proven right when he heard rushed footsteps on the other side when he gave the door another knock.

"Go away Tom, I genuinely don't want to deal with you right now," Harry fumed, boiling anger evident in his tone, a dead giveaway that he was well aware of what had happened.

Did Tom really expect his brothers to be calm about it? No, not even by a little. If he fucks up, they're the first ones to put him back in his place. And now—well, now he fucked up very badly.

Too add to that, the boys care about you a lot. It's been such a heartwarming thing for Tom to see you grow close with them, to see them accept you as part of the family. He understands why they're angry at him and they have every right to be.

"I know she's in there. Just open up, please," Tom sighed, palm flat against the surface as he waits for the lock to click open. Harry scoffed at that, voice muffled due to the door that's still in the way. "She is, but what gave you the idea that she wants to see you?"

That stung, but Tom also can't say he was surprised. Hell, he can't even look at himself without grimacing, so he wasn't expecting any less from you. He wasn't expecting things to go smoothly at all with the weight of his actions.

"Look, I get why you're mad at me. But Harry please, I just need to talk to her," he begged, but still to no avail as his brother growled in response. "What part of 'she doesn't want to see you' do you not fucking get?"

Tom was running out of patience, especially now with his emotions all over the place as with his mind. It was crowded in his head, very loud and obnoxious, just pushing and poking until he felt his anger bubble slowly. And before he could stop himself and take a deep breath to stay calm, his voice boomed,

"Just let me in damn it!" Tom's fists hit the door harshly, his emotions overpowering him to the point where he's becoming rash with his actions. He wasn't frustrated at his brother by all means, he was frustrated at himself. After all, there was no other person to blame why everything in his life has gone to absolute shit.

"Oh go and fuck off!" Harry barked, just fuming at the fact that Tom had the audacity to show his face at his house and give him attitude.

"I'm your fucking brother!" Tom knew that was a bullshit come back but he tried it anyway, he'd try anything at this point, growing desperate with each passing second.

He just really needs to see you. He needs some sense of familiarity, someone to ground him back, someone who's going to tame his mind before he losses it completely. That someone has always been you, his sense of peace, his rock.

"Ah yes! Please do remind me Tom because that's the only thing stopping me from going out there to break your fucking teeth you asshole!" It was obvious that both brothers were now feeding off of each other's emotions, voices loud as they go back and forth, and it was only a matter of time before one explodes which well then make things take an awful turn.

"Jeez Harry, calm down for a second yeah?" Sam's voice interrupted before things start to escalate further. What Tom heard next was fairly inaudible, but he can picture the twins arguing, just hearing the exchange of muffled voices. Then a few seconds later —much to his surprise — Sam opened the door.

Tom met his brother's eyes, a breath of relief coming out of him. "Thank you Sa—"

"Don't thank me, this wasn't my decision," Sam said solemnly with a stoic look on his face, a dissatisfied tone in his voice that Tom was quick to catch. "She's waiting for you in the garden," his brother added, stepping out of the way to let Tom in. He locked with Harry's angry eyes on the way, Tom's frown deepening as he tries to say something, to basically apologise for yelling when he has no right to.

"Harry I—"

"Just fucking walk," his brother sneered, tone ice cold. All Tom could do was nod as he pressed his lips into a thin line, walking pass the twins with his head hanging low in shame. Though never did he miss — nor will he forget — Harry's death glare and Sam's disappointed gaze as he made his way towards the back door.

***

The loud bang on the front door and the yelling was what you woke u—no, the fact that the loud voice belonged to Tom was what woke you up.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for, and to be honest, you could still need a bit more.

Last night was still clear as day inside your head. Everything that had happened you remembered as detailed as it can possibly get, from you reading that text message to then running out the house and calling Harry to come pick you up. You knew fully well you weren't in the right state of mind to drive, and you were glad that he didn't mind at all.

Sam came with him, both sporting their worried looks once they pulled over and saw your state. Though they didn't ask any questions once you got inside the passenger's seat, neither pushed to give you air to breath, them only knowing that Tom did something terribly wrong by the way you were crying on the phone.

The three of you just drove around the city for a while, windows down with the music blaring to try and get your mind off of it as much as they can. Both ordered pizza and opted on eating in the car that was parked near the River Thames, looking out into the gorgeous view of the Tower Bridge as it shines its lights in the night. You talked about anything and everything but the elephant in the room—well, car.

You only poured everything out to them when you got back to their house. Full on balling on the couch as you try and form a coherent sentence on what just happened. First they were surprised, unable to believe that their brother could do such a thing. Then you saw the anger cross their features little by little, more so with Harry than Sam. You've traveled with Harry quite a lot, you were a little closer with the boy due to the time spent together, but not by much of course.

They offered you the guest room right after, said that you can stay for as long as you need to. They both were real sweethearts about it, and you owe them a lot for keeping you sane for those couple of hours. You couldn't stomach to imagine what you could've done if they weren’t there.

You thought you'd just let them handle Tom, to not come out of the room until he's gone. You have no idea what more you could say or do if you see him again face to face, especially when everything that has happened was only in a span of under twenty-four hours. You were still overwhelmed, a complete mess both physically and emotionally.

But when you heard just how angry Harry was and how Tom was close to reaching there as well, you couldn't just sit still and let the problem grow even bigger. You can't let yourself be the reason that would cause a tear in their relationship with each other. Because by the end of everything, they're still brothers no matter what.

So slowly, you got out of bed, treaded into the living room where you found Sam sat on the sofa. His leg was bouncing anxiously as he listens to his brothers argue, clearly torn on what was the right thing to do. You walked up to him with a small smile, surprise crossing his features once he saw you awake.

He quickly said that he'd try and talk to Tom and make him leave, assuming that you are uncomfortable with him around but you only shook your head no. You told him it's okay to let his older brother in and that you'll just wait in the back garden for whatever it is he wanted to talk about.

Although relunctant, Sam didn't question your decision further. He just pulled you in for a warm embrace before flashing you a reassuring smile and then walking towards the front door.

Once sat on the wooden bench that was right on the back porch, you kept your gaze steady on the greenery in front of you, back facing the house as you tried to clear your head as much as you can. Basically to organized your thoughts and emotions. The cold evening breeze was helping to calm your nerves, your eyes following the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of the bushes, the hum of the wind invading your ears in the most soothing way. It was a serene sight, so comforting, and slowly you felt yourself relax.

But the moment of peace was soon cut short, your eyes screwing shut once you heard the sliding door open and then close. His footsteps were light but the sound was already deafening for you, as if the rest of the world turned mute for you can only hear his shoes hitting the pavement, just ringing in your ears as you waited in anticipation.

Tom sat down beside you with a hold of his breath, heart aching once he saw your tear-stained cheeks, once he noticed how you kept your eyes tightly closed, purely refusing to look at him for even a split second.

His fingers started to fidget as nerves started to consume him. The action was also in a way to stop himself from reaching over to take your hand, to just feel your skin on his, because oh how much he's miss it, how much he's miss you.

He wasted a month of not holding you, of not getting to truly touch you, and he so badly wanted to pull you closer to him now, to make up with the time lost. But Tom wasn't going to push his luck, not going to over step boundaries because he wasn't in the place to make such decisions, not anymore. He knows that there were so little of both left that if he gets too near, he might end up pushing you farther away. He wasn't going to risk it.

On the way here, he's thought about all the things he was going to say to you. He repeated his speech over and over inside his head even though his words were a jumbled mess. It was something at least, a start. But now that he was seating here with you just a couple inches away, Tom's mind has gone blank. With the hundreds of words he's planned on saying, his lips could only let go of one.

"Y/N..."

You could pinpoint so many things with just the simple call of your name. The guilt, the longing, the regret, even the adoration, it was all there. Having known him for a while, you have gotten good at reading him, even if it's only from his voice, from the highs and lows to the different tones. But that was before, now, you weren't so sure if you actually ever knew him at all.

"What are you doing here Tom?" you asked softly, eyes opening with a sigh but still avoiding his at all costs. Tom ran an anxious hand through his hair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he kept his gaze trained on your beautiful face, smile gone and glow dimmed out, but still so beautiful in his eyes nonetheless.

With a deep breath, he spoke, "I-I came here to apologise, for everything. I know it won't do much but I'm not going stop saying how sorry I am. What I did was so fucked up and I am so sorry darling, I really am," Tom paused and waited for you to get a chance to respond. But when you kept looking forward, when you didn't even move a single muscle, he sighed before adding. "And I just need you to know that this is all on me, none of this is your fault, please keep that in mind Y/N. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

You nodded with a shaky breath, and as you gathered all the strength you could muster, slowly you turned to face him.

The look in your eyes only did nothing but sharpen the pain in Tom's chest. Your once joyful orbs were now bloodshot and full of hurt, all because of him. The more he stared into them, the guiltier he got. The weight of what he's done so evident in your gaze, reminding him of all the promises he broke, reminding him just how much he's broke you.

"Do you have feelings for her?" you asked after a few moments of silence, bottom lip trembling despite trying your best for it not to. Tom shook his head with a deep frown, "No, I don't."

He knew where this was heading. You were going to ask him the questions that's been nagging inside your brain, and Tom was going to answer each one with the truth, no second guessing, just pure honesty.

You shifted in your seat, clearing out the lump that formed in your throat before speaking. "Was she better than me in bed?" you trailed off.

Tom couldn't help but wince at the fact that you've thought about it. He felt so disgusted at himself for such an awful deed, so revolted for putting that image inside your brain.

"No. She doesn't compare to you. I'm so so late on realising this but she doesn't make me feel things the way only you can," he answered truthfully, but you looked away.

You just couldn't hold his gaze. To stare at those brown eyes you once called home, those eyes that used to make you feel safe, it's just a sharp stab at your heart knowing that those same eyes betrayed you. It took everything in your power to not break down, unable to think further about everything without bursting into endless tears, unable to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Tom saw this, he saw it in the way you looked at him for that split second, how you just don't trust him anymore. And oh does it hurt, but what did he expect?

You picked at your fingers nails as you kept your head low, trying your hardest to hold yourself together, concealing everything in. But you were grasping onto broken pieces, your heart and mind all fractured, too fragile. The harder you try to keep them as one whole piece, the deeper the cuts you inflict on yourself.

And the picture of him with another woman, touching her in a way that he used to touch you, it feels so vile, an agonizing torture for your already broken heart, and you don't know how much more of the pain you can handle. You don't know how much more you can endure before everything finally falls apart and becomes too damaged to put back together.

But what if that was the right thing to do? What if it was needed to let everything fall apart, to loosen your grip on the broken pieces of yourself for the wounds to heal, for you to be able to start anew? Maybe all you need is for everything to break down completely so you can build them back up, stronger and better.

"She's more beautiful than me isn't she? Has a better body? More talented? She's simply just better than me?" you croaked, trying your best to keep it together. But you were almost there, almost at the point of just letting the whole thing go, to let every emotion come flooding out, the bad and the ugly.

"Fuck no," Tom protested, rubbing a palm across his face in anger, entirely directed at him for planting that thought inside your head in the very first place. He hates seeing you like this, so hurt and full of doubt for no other reason than because of what he did. Tom wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to take it in himself. He's the one who deserves to suffer, not you, never you.

With a deep breath, Tom tried to keep his emotions steady, gaze still set on you — despite it not being returned since you kept looking forward — his voice soft as he continued, "I know my words don't have any weight for you right now but believe me when I say that you will always be the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both on the outside and the inside, from your heart, to your mind and your soul. You are a gorgeous, wonderful and amazing woman Y/N. Please don't doubt that because of the stupid mistake I did."

The moment you locked eyes with him again, Tom's breath got caught in his throat. Your eyes coated with question, utter distress and seething anger, but the pain, God the pain, Tom can feel it sharp and deep in his bones.

Tears fell from your eyes as tried your best to keep your voice steady, but you just couldn't, with the all the different emotions boiling deep inside, you just couldn't.

"Then why Tom? Why?" you sobbed, Tom's heart shattering at the agonizing sound.

He sat straighter, eyes turning glossy but it never left yours, brown orbs boring into your own. "I-I wish I could give you a good enough reason why I did it but I really don't know. All I know is that I was stupid and it was a huge mistake. I realise that now, a little too late but I did. I took what we had for granted—I took you for granted, and I will always regret it until I die."

"You're just saying the things I want to hear." You shook your head with a soft whimper, breaking his gaze as you shut your eyes, enabling more tears run down and coat your cheeks.

"No darling, look at me," Tom croaked, taking the risk as he reached over to take both your hands in his, and you let him, no flinching, you let him touch you. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he gave it a squeeze, a silent way of asking you to look at him.

A shaky breath came out of you at the feeling of his warm skin, your tear-filled eyes meeting his own once again, seeing nothing but transparency as he spoke, "I haven't lied to you from the minute I sat here. It's hard to believe, I know. But I swear on Tessa's life I'm telling you the truth, every single word I've said."

Tom moved closer, fingers nervously fiddling with yours as he tried his best to keep his tears at bay. "I-I really do want you back. I want you to come back home, I want to hold you in my arms again but after everything I've done to you, I understand why that won't ever happen. And y-you deserve someone better, so much better than m-me," he choke back a sob, bottom lip trembling at his last sentence.

"You hurt me Tom, so bad," you whimpered, voice laced with so much agony, no more holding everything in as the strong façade you've been putting on crumbles.

To see you break down in front of him, your hands shaking in his grasp, nothing but utter pain coating the dips and valleys of your face, that was all it took for Tom to crack. His tears now streamed down his face, falling freely one after the other as his emotions came crashing through like a tidal wave.

"I-I know darling, I know and I'm s-so fucking sorry," he spluttered, feeling his throat close up as he tried to blink away the tears, to rid of his blurry vision so he can see you. He just wants to see you, cherish every second since he has no idea if there would be a next time after this.

Then delicately, Tom lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm sweetly, all adoringly before he placed it flat against his warm and damp cheek, leaning into your touch with a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry angel," he whispered, voice filled with pure regret and guilt.

You remained silent, still looking into his eyes but you kept still, not knowing where you'll go from here. But then Tom lets out a nervous sigh. "And I want you to know that I—" he cut himself off as cleared out his throat, eyes staring deep into your own before he spoke with absolute sincerity,

"I love you."

Your lower lip quivered with a soft cry, eyes closing as shook your head at him. "That's the first time you've said that to me since you came back home," you said, breath unsteady as you replay those three words inside your head.

Eight letters tied together giving you an overwhelming feeling. That's what it does when you haven't heard those words escape his lips in a long time. And oh how you missed it, you missed hearing him say it, but what did it cause for you to hear it again? Too much, way too much to the point that you were unsure if the words hold the same true meaning as before, doubtful if it meant anything at all or if he just casually threw it in there for the sake of it.

Tom nodded regretfully, letting go of your hand as he went to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly, your eyes opening at the feeling of his skin on yours. "And I wish I could've said it to you more often because I truly love you Y/N. If I could go back and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. If I could go back in time I'd tell you over and over just how much you mean to me, how important you are in my life. I'd tell you every hour of every day just how much I love you."

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom leaned forward until his forehead was now resting against yours. His proximity was intoxicating, the tips of your noses were almost brushing and you thought it would be too much, but it wasn't. You welcomed it, the feeling of being so close to him because after everything, his eyes still have the hold against you, Tom will always have a hold against you.

"I love you so much darling and I fucking hate myself for not showing you that enough, because you deserve nothing more than to know that you are loved, to feel that you are loved. And I am so sorry for failing you at both." he whispered, and with one look into his eyes, you knew he was being genuine, his voice was trembling but still, you can hear it, feel it inside you that he was being honest.

But was that enough to make you feel reassured? Was that all enough for everything to go back to the way it used to be?

No, it wasn't. It wasn't enough to let your heart win over your brain.

"I just need space to think, I'm sorry," you muttered softly as you pulled your face away from his grasp, letting out a small sniffle before crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, to hold yourself in a way. Tom felt his whole chest ache, but he didn't protest. He lets you go despite not wanting to.

"No, it's okay love and I completely understand. I wasn't expecting you to just jump back in my arms when I came here. I just really needed to say all of these to you." Tom shot you a small, broken smile before he lowered his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

Silence hung in the air for a few hellish seconds, turning awkward, deafening with each tick. And when you didn't say another word, Tom took that as a sign, took it upon himself to draw a conclusion.

"Uhm—yeah, I-I think this is my cue to leave," he muttered under his breath and stood up from his place, giving you one last glance to see you only spare him a nod, eyes looking anywhere but at him. With a defeated sigh, he started to walk away, but before he could reach the door, your voice stopped him.

"Tom wait—"

He immediately spun around with hopeful eyes to see you on your feet, already facing him with a small frown. Tom was ready, eager to run to you, to hear the words he so desperately need, to kiss you with all that he has as you take him back. But just as how quick he built that hope up, it was slapped away in an instant when you spoke again.

"Can you pack my stuff up for me please? I-I can't—I don't think I can go back at the house," you breathed out, eyes meeting his as you shifted from one foot to the other. "Just my clothes and toiletries, you can throw the other stuff away."

Tom's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. The thought of you unable to go back to the house, your home, it was heartrending but there was no other person to blame for that. He searched your eyes, tried to read any hesitation on your face, because he can't accept it. He can't bear to fathom the thought of getting rid of each trace of you in the house. Tom won't be able to handle it because it feels like the final nail on the coffin, after it's done then there's nothing more to go back to.

But when he saw nothing, when he saw that you do in fact mean it, that it is what you want, he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Anything you need love."

You nodded somberly, "Just leave it in the front porch and I'll get it once you're done."

No more words were said after that, Tom unable to slip in a response as you turned your back on him. And with a gloomy sigh, he pulled the door open and went back inside the house.

The moment he reached the living room, the twins both stood up from their places on the couch, both sporting worried looks as they watched their older brother walk with his head hanging low.

"Uhm, thank you for looking after her and I'm really sorry," Tom said as met his brother's eyes. The boys saw a glimpse of what happened outside, and by the look on Tom's face, they knew that their brother deeply regrets what he's done. If anything, he needs them more now, and what harm will it do when they cut him some slack? Tom was already beating himself up black and blue, he doesn't need more of it from everyone else, especially the ones he truly cares about.

Sam was the first to approach him, a sympathetic smile plastered on the lad's lips as he gave him a comforting hug, a loving pat on the back before moving out of the way. Harry came into view next, hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily as he said, "I'm sorry for being an asshole earlier." Tom shook his head at him with a faint smile. "It's fine Harry. I deserved it."

His brother tilted his head to the side with a sad smile, moving closer to pull Tom in for a warm embrace. "Take care of yourself," Harry muttered. Tom lets out a shaky breath as he gave his brother a squeeze.

"I'll try."

***

It was so hard packing your stuff up. The fuller your bags got, the heavier Tom's heart grew. And it took him so long to get it done because he just needed to take a breather in between, the ache in his heart overwhelming him to the point that he can't stop his tears from free flowing.

On a slightly brighter note, he does have a sweet girl to comfort him, a precious staffy who'd lay her head on his lap whenever she hears him stifle out a few tears.

Tessa was supposed to stay with his parents for a couple more days, but Tom couldn't endure being alone in the house. So, he cut her little vacation short and stopped by at their house on his way home right after you two had the talk. Tom told them what had happened, disappointed looks unavoidable but they still gave him a much needed comfort and a few heartfelt advice, and for that he was grateful.

He drove home and went straight to bed right after, tried to get some sleep but struggled to say the least. But after a few doses of alcohol and a couple more tears, exhaustion took over him eventually.

Now it was midday, the rays of the sun shining through the bedroom windows, wrapping the space with warmth but Tom wasn't mirroring the mood, the clear blue sky unable to lift his spirits up.

He was sat on the floor of your shared closet, eyes trained on the already empty shelves. He stared at it for a couple seconds before his gaze fell right beside him where your suitcase was situated, now filled and entirely full.

Tom blew out his cheeks as he reached over to zip it up, the sound unpleasant to his ears, unbearable that his eyes screwed shut to keep the tears in. His head was already pounding; he figured crying some more wasn't going to help.

After a few calming breaths, he felt something nudge at his arm, lids shooting open to see Tessa with a stuffed animal in her mouth. "What have you got there?" Tom asked sweetly as he took the toy from her grasp, heart aching once he saw what it was.

He looked back at Tessa with a small smile. She's a clever girl but Tom just knows the dog was properly confused as to why he was packing her mummy's stuff up.

It pained him to think about it, that he would have to try and explain to her why you'd be no longer around. Tessa loves you quite a lot, absolutely attached that the pup tends to look for you first each time she's back in the house, a jab at Tom's ego but he adores it nonetheless. Hell, she explored each room when they got back last night, a soft whine coming out her once she didn't find you. And now to come and reflect that you two were going to be separated all because of him, it's just an addition to the guilt that was already filling him up to the brim.

Tom pulled her close to his side lovingly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered on her skin with every ounce of remorse,

"I'm so sorry princess."

***

As he sat on the steps of the front porch, Tom's heart and mind were running a hundred miles per second. Your packed up things were sat on his left while Tessa laid flat by his right. The sweet girl still had no clue why they were outside, just sitting and doing absolutely nothing. But Tom was in much need of some company, and she's always happy to give him that.

He'd sent you the text few minutes ago, saying that it was all done and ready to be picked up. It did cross his mind that he wasn't going to do it, that he'll just keep your stuff here so you won't be able to leave, but that's just downright cruel, selfish and disgusting, so he quickly shut the thought down. Now he was left to wait anxiously, fingers picking at the fabric of the stuffed animal that Tessa lent him earlier.

It wasn't long after when a familiar car pulled up into the driveway, his heart hammering even more at the sight of the vehicle. Tom stood from his place with a shaky breath, dread slowly seeping through his skin at the mere thought that it genuinely was happening. That you were really leaving and it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

Tessa perked up when you and Harry came out of the vehicle, the pup not wasting any time as she bolted straight towards your direction. You crouched down to greet her with open arms, a small giggle escaping your lips when Tessa showered you with her kisses.

Tom's heart stuttered at the sight, a feeling of adoration spreading in his chest, but only lasting for a split second as it was quick to be replaced by one with grief. His heart felt like it was getting torn out of his chest at that thought that he might not be able to see this wholesome interaction ever again.

You walked over to the front porch with an unreadable look on your face, Tessa trailing right behind sporting a wide smile as she kept her gaze on you, tail at an all-time wag, still oblivious to what was happening.

"Hey," was all that Tom managed to get out, his heart warming a little at the sight of you, but ached the moment he noticed your puffy face, bloodshot eyes meeting his as you flashed him a faint smile. "I'm taking my car on the way back, so uhm, I think I left the keys inside," you explained, fingers nervously fiddling at the hem of your hoodie.

Tom frowned at that, but he already knew you weren't stepping inside anytime soon. You did ask him to pack your stuff up for that sole reason. To add to that, he also kind of expected that you were going to say that too, so he fished your car key from his pocket and handed it to you.

"I saw it laying on the counter so yeah," Tom trailed off, eyes still set on you as you took the key from him with a slight frown, and when he saw this he panicked. "Fuck, this looks I'm kicking you out or that I'm looking forward to you leaving and came prepared. I'm not. I figured that you would take your car too that's why I have the keys prepared, not because I want you to go, because I really don't want you to go," he rambled before he could even stop himself.

You stared at him for a full second or two, contemplating on what to say — or if you should even say anything at all — but with much thought, not wanting to say the wrong words, you opted on staying silent as you only nodded at him with a hum.

"I think this is everything," Tom cleared his throat to fill up the silence, cheeks all warm and red as he gestured towards your bags. "If I forgot something just let me know," he offered shyly.

You were about to move, to take your things and get this over and done with but before you could even do so, Tom spoke again. "And uhm, I don't know if you wanted to keep him but—" Tom revealed a very familiar stuffed panda from behind him, holding it out for you to take—or not—with a nervous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the toy, frown unconsciously deepening as you took it from his hands.

It was the stuffed panda he won for you during your first date at a carnival. You remember it vividly, his grin wide and proud, eyebrows wriggling as he offered you it with a curtsy. Such a memorable night filled with hearty laughs, screams from terrifying rides, clouds of cotton candy and a handful of friendly competitions. The night then ended with him dropping you back home, and as cliché as it can be, with a sweet goodnight kiss at the front of your door, leaving you both smiling like idiots as he drove away.

After that night you had a feeling that there was something special about this boy. And months down the line, you realised you were right as he was quick to snatch your heart without much effort.

You'll always cherish that day, the simpler times as some would say, and the very panda you held in your hands now was a huge reminder of that. Was there any harm in keeping it? You're not sure. The memory does fill you up with genuine happiness, but then the pain follows soon after as you're reminded that it was once like that. The thought that the memories wouldn't be added with more, it hurts, deeply.

But as you looked at the toy again, you don't have the heart to throw it away. You don't have the strength to give it back either, so you held it closer to your chest as you looked back up to see Tom already staring at you in a certain way, a slight gloss coating his brown orbs.

That's when you knew he thought about the same thing too, remembered that same night, that same exact memory. You both held each other's gaze with such intensity, a slight hint of longing in each other's eyes. There were still so many words left unsaid, you both saw that. But neither of you spoke, neither of you dared to move a muscle.

The tension in the air only grew from there, almost turning awkward. That until Tessa nudged at your leg, making you break eye contact with the man in front of you to look at the pup with a curios yet sad smile. You were unsure if you're going to see her precious face again, and gosh it stings. She's your baby too and in no way do you want to leave her, but sometimes the right decisions requires a bit of sacrifice.

"Spend some time with her. Harry and I will take care of your stuff," Tom spoke as he gave you a reassuring smile, already knowing what's going through your head with just a simple look in your eyes.

You gave him a thankful nod, your own lips curving up and Tom felt his heart melt. It was small, didn't reach your ears by all means, but it's genuine, the warmest smile you've given him since everything that has happened.

With one last look at you, Tom took as much of the bags he can carry and made his way towards Harry, who was leaning on his car with his phone in hand. When the lad heard Tom approach, he smiled, helping him set the bags on the floor before pulling him in for a warm hug.

"You look like shit by the way," Harry joked as pulled away and went to open the boot of the car. Tom scoffed playfully at that. "Thanks bro, feel like it too."

Harry tilted his head at his older brother, hand coming up to give his shoulder a squeeze, making Tom meet his eyes. The brothers shared a smile, Harry not needing to say anything for Tom already knew what he was trying to say, that Harry is there for him, as he always is.

"How is she?" Tom asked softly, continuing the task at hand of loading your things in the car. "Still the same," Harry sighed sadly.

The older brother lowered his head with a deep exhale, just utter guilt filling him up from head to toe. His eyes were now staring at the last bag set on the ground, tears welling up again as reality starts to creep on him.

"Hey, she's a strong girl. She'll be okay. You both will be," Harry reassured and all Tom could do was nod. He wasn't sure if was going to be okay after all of this, his future blurry without you in it. But a brave face he can manage, taking in a deep breath as he placed your last a bag in the boot.

He looked back at the front porch to see you sat on the top step, both hands cupping Tessa's face as your lips moved. Tom could make out the glisten on your cheek, the light of the sun reflecting against it, chest heaving in a way that's had your hands slightly shake. He watched you pull Tessa in for a hug, your eyes screwed shut as you placed a loving kiss on top of her head, the pup giving you one big lick on the cheek once you pulled away, her way of returning the gesture.

Tom's heart took at big swing at the sight, a shaky breath coming out of him as he kept his eyes steady on his two favorite girls, bidding their goodbyes despite not wanting to, but having no choice because of the horrible things that he's done.

He caught his sniffle with a clear of his throat, quickly wiping away the tear that managed to slip with the back of his hand as you stood from your place and made your way towards them. Tessa was following you still, demeanor now different as she looked at your figure with a tilt of her head, almost with a frown.

She was definitely still a bit confused, but Tom has a feeling that she knows what was going to happen, and he will definitely have to hold onto her when you... when you leave.

"Everything ready?" you asked, voice a bit hoarse with the obvious tear lines on your cheek but neither boys said anything about it. "Yeah, good to go," Harry answered when his brother stayed quiet. Tom's eyes elsewhere just so he won't become a balling mess yet again.

"Okay, uhm thanks Tom." His head shot up at the mention of his name, flashing you a forced smile with a curt nod to match.

He tried keep at it his silence as he watched you walk to your car, just knowing his emotions would betray him the moment he opens his mouth. Plus, he genuinely doesn't want to make things harder for you again for putting more things in your head to think about. But the moment you opened the door to your car, he couldn't stop himself, he knew he needed to say something.

"Y/N wait—" Tom called out, walking closer towards you, though when you turned back around to face him, he hesitated. He contemplated if it was worth a shot, if he should at least try and ask. But when he took in your frown up to your glossy eyes, the glow and joy on your skin all faded, he inhaled a sharp breath.

"Take care of yourself," said Tom instead, not the same words that were stuck on the tip of his tongue, not the words that his brain wanted to scream into the open.

"You too," you mumbled, quickly getting inside your car, making Tom miss the expression that crossed your face. The car door slamming shut followed by the silent roar of the engine, drowned out the shaky breath you let out, eyes never meeting his again.

There was a simple question not asked. A question that could make things turn around, make this day have a better outcome, but Tom didn't dare to spit it out. He held himself back thinking that it was for the best.

He crouched down to take a strong hold of Tessa's collar as the two cars backed out of the driveway. The pups heartbreaking whines filled Tom's ears, the sound making his tears run down his cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

There were still words were left unsaid, but there was nothing more he can do with them now as Tom watched your car disappear down the street, eyes steady on the vehicle until the only thing left to see was the skid marks of the tires of your car on the pavement, a reminder that you were once here but may never return again.

***

A week has passed and Tom wasn't feeling any better. If anything, his life just turned shittier with each day gone without you in it.

The house was a complete mess, more so his bedroom with all the crap that's lying around. Said crap ranging from bottles of alcohol – some empty, some half-full – the broken glasses he has yet to pick up, dirty and clean clothes mixed up on the floor, up to the random food wrappers that decorated the area.

Hell, he hasn't even taken a shower in days, that's the state he was in right now. Tom also had to ask his mum to pick Tessa up a couple days ago, given the fact that he can't even take care of himself. Plus, he didn't want to stress the poor girl with him constantly being down in the dumps and more.

Long story short, he was a broken mess, both physically and emotionally. And the light at the end of the tunnel seems too far away where Tom doesn't even believe if it's there to begin with.

But despite wanting to rot in bed for maybe another week or two, to drown in his self-pity basically, he received a few emails that were too important for him to simply shove aside.

So, an hour-long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes later — and a few pain relievers to help with his headache — Tom made his way outside his room only to look for his computer. Once he found it just on top of the coffee table, he held it in his hands and went straight back to the bedroom.

He couldn't bear to stay outside with the sun shining all bright, especially with it accompanied with the clear blue sky. The beautiful day just makes him feel bad about everything, makes him feel worse about himself. Tom felt more comfortable staying inside the bedroom where the curtains were all closed, the space dark and gloomy to match his mood.

Plopping back down on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, he placed the computer on his lap, taking in a tired breath before turning it on. Much to his surprise, he stared right at a photo of Tessa and him, confusion filling him up at the sight of the lock screen because that wasn't what he set it as. His lock screen was of you and Tessa, not him.

Sure enough when he tilted the laptop up, there he saw your initials written on the bottom surface. A frown made its way onto his lips as he realised that he might have given you his computer instead.

You two have the same computer and the only way to tell which one was who's without seeing the contents, was by the initials on the bottom. And just as cheesy as it can get, you were the one who wrote his initials while he wrote yours. Kind of like an autograph, hence why Tom was staring right at his handwriting, as if it wasn't obvious enough that this was in fact your computer.

At the time you both thought it was just cute and silly, a simple gesture for couples in love. Never did it cross Tom's mind that day that looking at it would bring hurt. But now it does, the gesture turned into remembrance, a mere memory of what it used to be.

He was a mess when he packed your things up. It wasn't unlikely that he missed to check which computer he gave to you. But what confused him was that a week has passed yet you hadn't contacted him, nor did you ask the twins to fetch it for you if you still can't bear to see him again.

It could've been that you haven't noticed yet or could've been something else. Tom has no way of knowing as he hasn't spoken to you since. He does know you're still staying at the twins' house courtesy to Harry, but that's about it.

He was about to reach for his phone to contact said lad but he accidentally pressed on the keys, screen now showing your desktop. Tom frowned with a shaky breath, a picture of you two on the beach glaring right at him. But what caught Tom's attention more was a certain folder, the name too long that he had to click it to show the rest.

B-ideas (If by any chance you're Tom please do not open this folder you're gonna break my heart if you do bub)

That only perked his curiosity even more. And given that he's already broke your heart due to something far worse, he double-clicked it to open. What more could he lose?

Tom felt a sharp stab at his chest as he scrolled through countless amounts of photos of different kinds of cakes, certain venues, and lovely decorations.

B-ideas... Birthday ideas.

He screwed his eyes shut, hand going up to pinch the bridge in utter frustration. First it was your relationship with Tessa, even his family for that matter, and now his birthday. What else did he ruin? Well, aside from the obvious anyway. How many times will he have to be reminded about all the things that are affected due to his mistake? Not enough apparently.

You always loved to plan his birthdays for him. He adored how you always get so excited to ask him a few things or when you keep it a secret as much as possible for it to be a surprise. You've made him the happiest boy every birthday. You make him feel even more special and he was glad to have you by his side each time. But now, he's ruined it by a long shot and his birthdays will never be the same.

As he reached the bottom, Tom found another folder within the folder named: For Slideshow (Gift)

Tom dared to open it as well, the pain in his heart only magnifying at the sight of old photos and videos of you and him. There were a few from all around the world — during the whole press tour to be specific — but most of it was just here in London or right at this very home.

You always went the sentimental route when it comes to his gifts. 'You can buy anything you want now,' as you've said. And despite him telling you that he won't care where you got it from – whether it from Tesco's or whatever – as long as you're the one giving it, then he will cherish that gift with all his heart. But of course, you just had to go the extra mile by making sure it was handmade by you. Whether it's a handwritten letter, a collage, or whatever cute thing it may be, you have never failed to make him emotional with each one, a tear or two shed every birthday.

It looked like you were going for a video compilation this year judging by the name of the folder and the contents of said folder—well, what you were supposed to do but it's not happening now, is it?

It was such a trip down memory lane, just photos upon videos, mostly candid, some intentional jump-scares and a few cheesy yet funny ones sprinkled here and there. The one video that caught his eye first though was the one where it had you and him kissing on the thumbnail.

Tom recognized it right off the bat. He remembers that day clearly to this moment. It was from the set where Harry filmed Roses for Lily, where you and Tom helped with all the little things. And his assumption was proven right when he pressed play...

"And that's a wrap everyone!" Cheers erupted around the field followed by applause as Sam and Sophie took a playful bow.

"Connect it to the speaker and play it on my cue," Tom whispered against Harry's ear, confusion crossing the younger lad's face before Tom jerked his head towards you. Harry shook his head at his brother but took his phone anyway, getting so used to his cheesy ass antics.

This wasn't your greatest week regarding work and school, even more so today. So, Tom thought head lift your spirits up in the cheesiest yet sweet way he can managed.

You were talking with Nikki when Tom suddenly came up to the both of you with an expression that you didn't quite read, hands behind his back as he stood with immense posture.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh no, what are you up to?" you asked suspiciously.

"Will you do me the honour of granting me this dance mi lady?" Tom offered his hand with a curtsy, voice sporting the most posh accent he can muster with a cheeky smile plastered on those pink lips.

You shook your head with laughter at your boy. You turned to look at the woman who you were having a conversation with, only to see her give you two thumbs up with a wide smile, and with that, your gaze landed back on Tom sporting a smile of your own.

"Pleasure is all mine kind sir." You mimicked his accent and took his hand, fits of giggles coming out of you as Tom dragged you towards the front of the bench, the view of the field endless behind you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours as his other hand took home on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder, just like a proper ballroom dance. "We don't even have music you dork," you pointed out the obvious, to which Tom only grinned all proud.

"Says who?" He shot Harry a nod and not long after the soft tune of 'The Way You Look Tonight' by Frank Sinatra filled your ears.

You threw your head back as you let out a loud yet hearty laugh. "You're a huge cheese ball aren't you?" you teased.

"Oh please, you love it," Tom flashed you a knowing smirk as he then starts to swing to the tempo of the music. He guided you with gently care as he spins you out and then pulls you back in again, his background in dancing making it easy for him to lead the dance.

And you always admire this talent of his, adored it with all your heart as you break out to random dances – may it be silly or slow – around the house whenever to whatever music. It was not new to you so you can easily follow his rhythm having dance with him before. Plus, the steps were simple enough for you to catch. And having known each other for a long while, it was easy for the two of you to move in sync.

But then he started to sing, and that caught you off guard.

"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm; and your cheeks so soft; there is nothing for me but to love you; and the way you look tonight."

You can't stop your grin from growing at his sweet voice, heart warm as you stared right into those beautiful brown orbs. Tom doesn't sing much often, not seriously anyway. But when he does, it makes your heart melt ten times over and then some, because the boy can definitely sing.

"Am I wooing you darling?" Tom cooed with a wriggle of his eyebrows, earning yet another laugh from you. And with him being all cheeky with his timing, you didn't get to respond as he continued to sing,

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose; Touches my foolish heart," Tom sang with a cheeky wink, the smile on your lips ever growing that your cheeks we're starting to hurt, but you could care less.

"Lovely, never, never change; keep that breathless charm; won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you; just the way you look tonight,"

He kept singing, not for but to you, dedicating each word, meaning each note that the smile on your lips was impossible to wipe off. Not to mention the simple yet lovely dance, bodies swaying sweetly to the music, it was just like a scene from a movie.

Tom twirled you around courteously, pulling you back closer to him that had both your arms resting over his shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around your form, noses delicately touching as you two mirrored each other's eyes, nothing but the look of love coating them.

And when you nudged his nose adorably, Tom chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaning closer until his lips captured yours in a charming kiss. A kiss so blissful that your hearts were filled with nothing but warmth, spreading from head to toe as you kept dancing to the slowly fading music.

Both of you were unaware that Harry recorded the whole thing, making the little dance, the sweet gesture as pure and raw as it can be. Just two couples in love, cherishing each other's company, adoring one another with everything that they have...

Tom lets out a strangled breath as the video stops, trembling fingers hovering over the space bar as he stared at the still of you, warmly wrapped in his arms, absolutely content, delighted and purely in love.

Next thing he knew, Tom found himself watching videos upon videos of you and him, endless clips that showed just how happy you two were, how happy you made him. Each video showed him the way you use to glow, smile bright as day while your eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, a blissful expression on your face and oh how stunning it looks on you. Pure happiness suited you so much and Tom took that away. He took away your shine; he snuffed out that radiance you always bring whenever you're in the room.

He only decided to stop when Tom felt his chest tighten harshly, breath turning uneven as his eyes started to burn. He was about to close the laptop, to set it aside and give himself a breather, but then he saw another one with a thumbnail that has only you in it. Despite being too emotional, despite deciding that the torture was enough, his curiosity was stronger. So, he played it...

"...right, is this recording? Yup, it is, okay."

You sat back on the chair after you adjusted the camera – which Harry kindly let you borrow – on the little desk you had in yours and Tom's shared bedroom. "It's a little too early to make a video message since your birthday is months away but I've got nothing better to do so," you trailed off, adjusting your hair before sitting up and smiling at the lens.

"To the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armour, to my handsome prince," you paused with a scrunched of your nose. "Oh gosh too cheesy. Okay, reel it back, whew, okay, Thomas, spider-boy—well, more like spider-baby..." You let out a laugh at that, shaking your head at yourself before taking in a deep breath and looking back straight at the camera.

"To the absolute love of my life, Tom, happy birthday. Oh now, where do I start? Well, I can start with how proud I am of you. The fact that you've achieved so much in so little time? I couldn't be any prouder. You're the most hardworking man I know, it's not really a surprise how you got to where you are today. But despite all the accolades, the awards you've won — and soon to win — there's always one award, well two actually that's far more important than the rest. First one is you-being-such-an-incredible-human award. You, Tom have the kindest most compassionate heart I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I could list so many great things but then we'd be here all day, just ask me it later and I'll send it to you in post," you giggled. "But trust when I say that you are a true hero, even without the mask."

"And well, the second award, oh gosh, it's the best-boyfriend award. Forgive my cheesiness — although you do like it — but it is in fact true. You, Thomas, you make me the happiest girl ever. I—oh no here comes the water works," you joked, fanning your eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. And when you felt like you can hold it together, you continued,

"I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You've always been there for me through the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't think I could've made it pass things without you Tom and for that thank you. Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin. For being my shoulder to cry on when I really need one, for being such a great listener and for being my rock. Thank you for helping me through the hardest times bub," you paused to take a deep breath, eyes glossy but with a proud smile on your lips nonetheless.

"...granted our relationship isn't perfect, we've had our disagreements and petty fights but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I wouldn't trade you for the world, Tom. I am happy to be with you, so content with what we have. We've laughed together, cried together, we've grown together, and as promised, we're going to be there for each other, always." you let out a soft giggle to try and clear the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly to keep it in, though it already obvious in your eyes that you weren't going to be successful.

"And lastly... I love you so much Tom. My heart could literally exploded with just how much, and I just want you to know that whatever it takes, whatever challenge life will hurl at us, whatever happens in the future, I will always, truly, with all that I am, lov—"

"Darling? Where are you?" Tom's voiced echoed down the hallway, halting your words as you turned your head towards the door. With a sweet laugh, you look back to the camera. "You and your impeccable timing Thomas."

You quickly wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes, making sure you don't look suspicious to not ruin the plans of surprise.

"Sweetheart?" Tom called out again.

"Bedroom babe!" you answered, taking in deep breaths before reaching for the camera. "I'll finish this later I guess. I'll see you—well in a couple seconds but future you sometime soon, love you!"

And with a blow of a kiss, you turned the camera off...

The whole bedroom turned eerily quiet as the screen turned pitch black. Almost quiet aside from the soft tap, tap, tap – the sound of Tom's tears hitting the computer keys, one after the other.

Tom stifled out a whimper as he screwed his eyes shut, hand coming up to tug at his hair in anger, sorrow, regret, hurt. You were good to him, you were everything to him and more. How could he waste that? He lost someone so rare, someone who's out of this world from beauty to heart. No one could ever replace you, nobody will ever come close to how much of an amazing person you are, how special and lucky you made him feel.

He had everything, and he threw that away.

As he tried to catch his breath, he reached for his phone, dialing the number of the only person who'd give him comfort but without all the bullshit.

"Hey Harrison, I know you’re probably still disappointed with me right now too but I just really need someone to talk to..."

***

"...and then I found this folder of hers that has all these ideas for my birthday. It even had old photos and videos of us but what struck me the most was her video message and I just—" Tom stopped to catch his breath, wiping away the tears on his face before he looked up a Harrison with a soft sob, "I ruined so much."

"You did," the lad answered bluntly, no sugar coating, no bullshitting. He wasn't going to say the words that his friend wanted to hear, if he kept doing that then how will he learn?

Tom buried his face in his hand in shame, sniffing loudly before lifting his head up again, face all puffy as he met his best friend's eyes with his bloodshot ones. "I miss her so much Haz, and I really want to fix things between us, to have her back. But I don't have a chance anymore."

Harrison frowned at that. He knows the full scope of the situation, but he doesn't recall you saying those exact words, well, as what Tom has explained to him anyway. "Did she say you don't have a chance anymore or did you just put words into her mouth?"

You didn't. You haven't told him those exact words, but your actions were an enough sign right? Tom leaned back on the couch, hand running through his hair with an exasperated sigh. "She told me to pack up her things, I think that's a clear message that it's over," he grumbled.

Harrison shook his head at his friend disapprovingly, "Tom, she has been fighting for your relationship for more than a month and you're already giving up in a week? After what you've done, I think you need to fight harder than that mate. Put more effort in, you owe at least that to her."

Tom frowned at his words, guilt growing more intense as the gears started to turn in his head. Did he really give up that easily? Could he have done so much better? If he asked you to sta—

But then the nagging voice was quick to shut down his questions. A certain reason why he feels like he can do nothing about it grew louder in his mind, said reason he felt the need to speak out loud.

"She deserves someone better than me Haz. I broke her heart and I—" Tom rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't think I deserve another chance," he concluded in defeat.

Harrison sighed, placing a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder before he began. "Okay look, there are only two paths you can choose regarding this. Path one, you can mop around, drown in your pity party and just give up with everything like a fucking wuss. Or path two, you can get off your ass, thrive to be better, right your wrongs and be the man that she deserves. You have to fight for her if you truly want her back Tom. It's just a matter of choice," Harrison finished as he shot him a knowing look.

"I think you've been so busy telling yourself that everything is too late, but what if it's not yet? You think it's too late, but is it actually too late for her? What if she just needs more persuasion? What if she just needs a proper reassurance that you're going to make things right? For you to truly show her that you do in fact still love her? All I'm saying here Tom is that you won't know the answer to these questions unless you ask them, unless you give them a try. We don't get what we want easily, you have to work hard for it." Harrison added.

Tom stared at his best friend in pure shock and amusement given that he's never heard him sound so wise with advise before. They usually do stupid shit together, and when it comes to relationships, they both can be as equally as clueless.

But nevertheless, Tom felt like his eyes got opened, a new perspective settling in his mind and he will be forever grateful at Harrison for that.

"Fuck you're right." Tom didn't waste any more time as he got up from his place and went to go get his keys. Harrison sat there bewildered, calling out to Tom again when he saw him go towards the front door, "Where are you going?"

Tom turned to his friend with a small yet hopeful smile, the most he's felt in a while, "I'm getting her back."

***

Sam looked at his brother in complete surprise once he pulled the door open, "Tom what are yo—" the lad cut himself off once he saw Tom's face, clear in his expression who he was looking for.

"She didn't tell you," the twin muttered with a frown, his sudden change in demeanor making Tom worry. "Didn't tell me what Sam?" he asked cautiously. Tom thought he already prepared for the worst, thought that he can handle any sort of rejection, but when his brother spoke again, all the color drained out his whole body.

"Harry drove her to Heathrow thirty minutes ago."

It took a few seconds for Sam's statement to finally sink in. And when it did, Tom cursed as he quickly turned on his heel and ran, heart pounding, head spinning.

"Tom, wait!"

Sam didn't get a chance to stop him as he was already back inside his car, engine roaring as he veered into the road at top speed. He was driving dangerously, Tom was aware of that, but he can't let you step even a toe in that plane. If he does, then it will really be too late.

***

"Come on Harry, pick up, pick up, come on lad pick u—Harry! Which terminal?" Tom asked in haste, fingers drumming against the wheel impatiently.

"Huh? Terminal?"

"Bro, I beg, just tell me which terminal you dropped her off, please." Tom heard Harry sigh on the other line, his anxiousness growing with each silent second, and when his brother gave him the information, he felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes.

"Terminal 2... She's off to Abu Dhabi."

***

Tom's lungs were gasping for air, both from him running as fast as he can, and from the fear that was overwhelming him to every bone. Fear that he might not catch you on time.

The crowded airport wasn't helping his anxious state at all, his eyes quick to dart around as he tries his best to look for you. He asked around, looking like a lunatic as he shows your picture to random strangers. He even asked at the desk just to narrow where you could've gone, to make it easier to find you in this huge haystack. And when he hadn't had much luck, Tom was quick to assume that you already got pass security.

It may had been dumb, but everything he's done at this point has been dumb, what's the worst thing that could happen if he tried to get pass the guards?

But before he could even attempt and sneak his way in, a large, tall man blocked his way. "Boarding pass?"

Tom shook his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, mind an utter mess that it was hard for him to think straight, "I-I don't have... it's an emergency please I–"

"Sir, you're not allowed inside if you don't have a ticket," the security reprimanded, hand held up as he stops Tom's chances of slipping by. He's an idiot really, thinking that he can talk his way through, but he tried it anyway, begged in desperation just so he can find you before you get on that plane. "Please just let me through, it will be quick, I just need to—"

"Tom?"

Never had he ever turned around so quick in his life, relief washing over him once he saw you standing there, bottle of water with a receipt in hand, confusion written all over your face at the sight of him.

Tom just ran straight towards you, his burly body almost knocking you out of balance as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, arms engulfing you tightly, like he's holding onto you for dear life. Tom's whole body shaking as he balled his eyes out, a stuttering mess when he tried to speak to say the least.

"N-no, p-please don't leave me, I-I can't—I can't do this without you, p-please don't leave," Tom sobbed against your skin, his hold around you vise-like but just enough for it not to hurt. He's just downright scared to loosen his grip for you might vanish into thin air if he does.

You tried to pull him off of you but a useless effort as he is much stronger than you. And the harder you try, the firmer his grip on you becomes, muttering his protest over and over of him not wanting to let go. You sighed, "Tom, look at me, bub..."

Tom lets out a whimper at the nickname, pulling away just slightly until he was able to rest his forehead against yours, his warm tears dropping on your cheek and your heart stung at the feeling.

"Breathe for me," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands. Your thumb caressed his cheek tenderly, wiping away the tears that ran down them as much as you could. Tom did as told, attempting to steady his breathing, the warmth in your eyes helping him by a mile.

When he finally got a hold of himself, he took one deep breath before speaking. "I should've asked you before you could even leave the house, should've chased after you. I should've fought harder for you. I wanted to ask you this before you got into your car and I didn't, which was a mistake," he trailed off, clearing out his throat as he gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I should've at least tried and asked you stay. I hope it's not too late but now I'm asking, begging you to stay. I want you to stay with me, please?" Tom pleaded, ready to be on his knees but you stopped him, he didn't need to be. Your fingers traced his jaw delicately, heart aching at the sight of broken man in front of you, but you've already made a decision. It was hard sticking to it now with him here, but you just had to remind yourself that this was for your own sake. You've already thought this through and it was final.

"I—I can't," you paused as the number of your flight echoed through the speakers. You turned back to Tom with a soft whisper, "You know I can't."

"At least you could've said goodbye?" he squeaked, voice breaking at the fact that your mind was already set, and when that happens, even before your worlds got flipped upside-down, it takes so much to change it.

"I couldn't, because I know for a fact if given the time, you might actually change my mind. Hell, just seeing you right now, it's already making me doubt my decision. But I need this Tom, I need to do this for myself. I've realized that my world revolved too much around you, and I don't regret it at all but I need to find my own path, grow as my own person."

Tom nodded dejectedly, eyes shut tightly because he knows he would have to let you go in a couple minutes. He needs more time, he wants more time with you. But when he heard your flight getting called again, Tom knew there was not much he can do about it.

"But when are you coming back?" he asked, voice frail but full of dread. And Tom felt his heart shatter some more when you looked away, his frown deep and sorrowful as he muttered, "You're not planning to."

You shook your head with a close of your eyes. "No. I am... I just don't know when," and it was true. You were going away for quite some time but you have a life here in London as well. It would be too hard to stay away. But as of now, you don't think you'll be back anytime soon.

As you open your eyes to look at those brown orbs again, you knew he understood.

He always does. Tom is quick at that when it comes to you. Not needing a whole lot of words to know what you mean, one look in the eyes will suffice. Tom couldn't say much more either, so he lets his action speak for itself instead.

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture catching you off-guard but only for a split second as you melted in his arms not long after. Tears slipped pass your eyes at the feeling, the feeling of his lips you've missed dearly, and Tom was the same. He missed how your lips fit perfectly with his, he missed how warm it feels, tender and soft.

It was a bittersweet kiss with the sense of goodbye laced in it, but it was beautiful nonetheless, special in a way as two hearts melt into one once more. Neither of you wanted to pull away. You just wanted to be stuck in the moment on repeat, destroy the buttons so that it plays on a never-ending loop. But when you heard your name through the speakers, you had no choice but to pull away.

As you stared into each other's eyes, both of you knew there was one more thing left to say, and as you did, as you spoke with nothing but sincerity, your hearts were filled with nothing but pure—

"I love you Y/N."

"And I love you Tom."

And with that he lets you go, hands going limp at his sides as he watches you gather your things and walk towards security. Before you could disappear out of sight, you spared him one last look over your shoulder, a smile written on your lips, one that was genuine, filled with adoration and... love.

It was a look that would always be burned in Tom's memory, but hopefully it won't be the last. Hopefully, with every choice made from here on out, if it's destined, then you'll find your way back to each other.

-:-:-:-:-

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[kareofbears]

plainly in truth, chapter 3/5

"Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Ryuji grips the letter like it was silver and he was a werewolf in the full moon.

He picks it up, skims over the first line before putting it down beside him, feeling worse every time he does it, only able to read the fine-printed lettering from the flickering lamp post above him. The constant change in light would normally bug him, but he doesn’t really care about it now; it’s not like the words would change in his hand, and he’s long since needed to actually read it to know what it reads.

His feet dangle over the canal, enjoying the way a rush of adrenaline would go through him when he looks down into the deep waters. It’s late enough in the night that even with the city lights around him, he can’t gauge how deep it goes.

Soseikawa Park was only a five minute walk from Odori Park, but with the narrow river and steeped hills, Ryuji found it secluded enough to let himself sit. Breathe. Not exist, even for just a few minutes. It’s like having his own bedroom, except it smells faintly like a sewer and there’s an intersection about ten meters above where he sat underneath the overpass. If he can ignore the never-ending rumble of cars and trucks driving above him, it can almost be considered peaceful.

He lets himself fall back, the grass tickling the back of his neck and his spine screaming in relief. They’re heading out again in two days, which means more days of being in an inescapable RV surrounded by his best friends who are keeping an eye on him because they’re good people who don’t know how to mind their own fucking business.

Idly, he lets his hands pull and brings it to his face—blades of grass. He lets it get taken by the wind. After brief consideration, he shoves the letter back into his pocket before he can do the same thing to it.

He is so tired.

Blindly, he hits the vague area of where his pocket is and fishes out his phone, hitting the first speed dial before he can talk himself out of it. As two rings go by, he stupidly hopes that she doesn’t pick up, as if she hasn’t ever missed a phone call from him even when she’s at work.

The third ring gets cut off halfway through. “Ryu!”

Despite himself, he grins. “Hey, ma. Checking in for the weekly call.”

“I was just thinking about you,” she says, and he can hear the laundry machine run in the background. “I was wondering if you had eaten today.”

“Ma, you ain’t gotta worry about that kinda thing anymore. I’m a big boy now.”

“You’re breaking my heart!” He can almost see her, phone tucked in the crook of her neck, work-worn hands folding her laundry as fast as she can so as to not hold up the next person in line. “It doesn’t matter how big you are, you’re my boy. How can I not think about whether my boy is eating or not?”

“All I’ve done on this trip is eat, ma.”

“Oh, and Akira! How’s that handsome boy doing? Still taking the world by storm?”

That pulls a genuine laugh from him—he never needs to hold back when it comes to talking about Akira, at least. “You know it. He’s the only guy in the world who can stand toe-to-toe with me in chowing down. I swear, he’s slipping some of it under the table ‘cause he’s so damn fast. Forty seconds! Forty seconds to inhale an extra large beef bowl! Blows my mind, seriously.”

“Could never do anything in halves, can he?” she chuckles, before the quality of her voice shifts. “And are you enjoying yourself?”

He hesitates. “Yeah, of course. It’s a roadtrip across Japan, how can I not?”

“Good.” There’s some crackling over the receiver, and he guesses she’s probably adjusting the basket full of clothes on her hip. “That’s all I want to hear. As long as you’re happy, Ryu, I’m a happy old woman.”

Ryuji opens his mouth, ready to console her.

I’m always happy!

You worry too much, ma.

There’s nothing to worry about.

“Sorry, but,” he swallows thickly. “I think they’re calling for me? So—”

“Alright,” she says, and he might be imagining the disappointed tinge to it. “Call back when you can, okay sweetheart? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he clears his throat. “I love you, ma.”

“I love you too, Ryu.”

He hangs up, letting the phone slip out of his fingers. It lands hard on the flat grass

For a long moment, he just lays there, listening to the gentle lapping waves and cars honking with impatience of people who have somewhere to be. He tries to meditate for half a minute, with all the information he had learned from a couple of YouTube videos, and gives up, because of course he does. Squeezing his eyes shut, he can’t do anything about the creeping dread that’s in his stomach getting stronger, squeezing and squeezing until he feels sick. It’s like his insecurities are having this huge fight against each other, feeding off of one another until it gets too big for him to handle and all he can do is breathe and try to do something about it.

And he’s fucking sick of it—breathing. He’s sick of the stupid breathing techniques, sick of counting down from ten and waiting for his own heart to chill out because his brain won’t stop reminding him of everything he did wrong, of shit he’s still doing wrong because at least this way, nobody knows what he did was wrong. It’s just him that can point and laugh at himself, and that’s way better than having the world do it for him.

He doesn’t cry, because he’s not a crier. He’s the type of guy to throw a fist through drywood before shedding a tear, and he hates that about himself. Rather than do something that will actually help, Ryuji lays there, perfectly still. Listening. Waiting for a meteor to fall on him, or for the overpass to crash its entire weight on top of him.

Instead, he hears footsteps.

His heart rate slows by a fraction, and opens his eyes to meet gray ones. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Akira says, a smile in his voice. “How did you know it was me?”

Ryuji almost feels offended. He would know Akira by sound alone, the way his heels would click in the Metaverse. The way the balls of his feet would strike the earth, hardly muffled by grass or cheap sneakers or anything else as trivial. Ryuji would know he was there; no matter how blind he was with hatred for himself, his love for Akira would always guide him back to where he needs to be.

“Lucky guess.”

“One hell of a guess.” He plops down onto the grass and Ryuji lifts his head, allowing Akira to wiggle until he could use his lap as a pillow. “Your turn,” Akira says.

“My turn to what?”

“To ask me how I knew where you were.”

“Oh.” He lets his eyes slide shut again. “I kinda just assumed you could do that.”

“You assume too much of me sometimes.”

“I assume the right amount.” Ryuji refuses to shiver when he feels long fingers start to card through his hair. “You’re giving me goosebumps,” he sighs.

“That’s a good thing, I think.” The fingers pull away and he’s about to complain when he feels something gets thrown over his torso. “Here. You always end up forgetting to wear an extra layer when you go out like this.”

Ryuji rearranges Akira’s jacket over himself. “Sap.”

“You know it.” He resumes combing through his hair, and Ryuji lets himself relax, just a little. It’s strange—it’s hard as hell being around other people nowadays, and even though Akira can make him feel that sometimes, mostly it helps the eternal twisting of his stomach to settle.

“You’re good at that,” Ryuji mutters.

“Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice with Morgana.” And just to make it worse, he uses a little bit of nail on his nape, sending electricity running down all the way to his fingertips.

His mouth twists unhappily. “Don’t do shit like that while talking about the cat, for the love of god.”

Akira does it again, like the little shit he is. “You still have that weird thing with your neck?”

“Quit it!” Ryuji slaps his thigh and he can’t muster much anger when he can feel Akira’s shoulders shake from silent laughter. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“You’re right.” Gently, softly, like the world’s lightest feather, he feels lips brush his temple. “I’m funnier.”

His eyes open, and his entire vision is obscured by curly black hair and tender eyes. “You’re right,” he breathes. “You’re funnier.”

Akira bends down again, and Ryuji catches his lips, overflowing with something soft but unafraid, and it’s so good that Ryuji reaches for his cheek just to make it last a little bit longer.

When they break off, Akira kisses his temple again, this time on the left side. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Uh,” he scratches his head, brain a little fuzzy. “Tuesday?”

“It’s Wednesday, and I meant the date. It’s August tenth.”

“Okay?”

Akira thumbs at his collarbone. “I know this might be a little lame that I know it by heart, but I left Tokyo on March 19th. That would mean it’s been—”

“One hundred forty-four days since you moved away,” he finishes. “I know.”

Akira blinks, and then laughs, and Ryuji knows it’s an especially good one because sound actually comes out this time. “Yes,” he says, elated. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“I told you dude, we’re really on that telepathy shit.”

“We really are.” A pause. “I miss you.”

He’s about to joke—I’m right here, you big dummy—but find that he just can’t. “I miss you too.”

They can’t say what they mean: I will miss you. Summer vacation doesn’t last forever, and two months will always be a hell of a lot shorter than the rest of the ten months that they’ll be apart. Somehow, he dreads seeing Akira gone, and he’ll dread seeing Akira back in Tokyo because it would mean that he’d actually have to see what Ryuji’s really like. Actively pushing away his best friend just so he doesn’t have to see his failures; doesn’t that just make him the worst piece of shit in the world?

There’s a gap, though. A little loophole. A crack in the timeline. A place where maybe he’s allowed to be a hollowed out version of happy; the now.

“Tomorrow’s our last day in Sapporo?”

“Yeah?” Akira replies, surprised at the change in tone.

“Which means Jail stuff is done, right? All your grocery shopping and Sophia Prime’s been ordered and packed up?”

“Yes,” he says, a lilt in his voice. “It’s all done.”

Ryuji sits up and faces him, reaching for his wrists, relishing in the heartbeat thumping against his palms. “Let’s do something. I don’t care what, but let’s do something. Eat at a diner, go to a museum, rob a bank, whatever.” He runs his thumb along the veins there, long since those bumps have been ingrained in his brain. “Let’s do something, just you and me.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Sakamoto?” He has a cocky look in his eye, and Ryuji’s half-tempted to kiss him again just to wipe it clean off his face. “You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

He knows. That’s the scary part. Would Akira still follow someone he doesn’t know as well as he thinks he does? “I’ll get us lost,” he jokes.

Akira doesn’t laugh. “I’d rather be lost with you than learn to lose you.”

It’s been ages since he’s been flustered at anything Akira does, but he feels a rush of heat crawl up his neck. “I’ll—” Ryuji shakes his head, willing his embarrassment to go away. “Shit, uh—”

“I’ll pick where to go,” he interrupts, a little too smug for his liking. “I’d say I’ll pick you up at your place, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a comedian,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “I’ll be ready whenever.”

“Fantastic.” Akira checks his phone, wincing. “It’s late.”

He grips his wrist tightly. “I know.”

Thankfully, he’s never needed to explain much to Akira. “Okay,” he says softly. “Ten more minutes?”

“Yeah.” He lets his eyes slide shut once more, letting out a breath. The world will keep spinning. His stomach will keep twisting. Time will keep marching on, but at least he has this. “Ten minutes sounds good.”

—

The first words that Futaba says as she enters the RV was: “Oh, hell.”

“Hello Futaba-chan, Yusuke-kun,” Haru greets cheerfully from the booth. “How was your shopping trip?”

“...Fine,” she replies, stepping aside to let him in, lugging a four-foot tall canvas in his arms that accidentally hits the ceiling. “Got a new Featherman action figure.”

“I got a canvas,” Yusuke answers from behind the wall of white. “Though I assume you can see that.”

“I can.” Her smile doesn’t falter, and it’s making the hair on Futaba’s nape rise like a nervous animal. “Quick question, since you both are here…”

Haru pulls a tote bag from underneath the table, and it’s so heavy that when she throws it on the table, her teacup nearly topples over. “Would you like to take a guess of what’s in this bag?”

A billion jokes pop into Futaba’s head, but both of them stay silent, terrified and confused. They both knew this was coming, but they didn’t expect her to be so forward about it.

“I suppose that’s a pretty strange question, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” She reaches in and pulls out thick, heavy textbooks, all brightly coloured and consist of beaming, diverse students on the front cover. “Care to tell me why you were both looking at cram books while we’re on our fun roadtrip?”

Yusuke pushes Futaba aside, eyes on the books and wide with shock. “You bought them?!” he exclaims.

“Wait—” Futaba hops repeatedly, trying to catch a glimpse from over his shoulder. “You bought all of them?”

“Of course.”

“But why?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Hmm, think about it this way. If Akira’s in charge of the group as a whole, and Makoto’s in charge of the more analytical aspect of things, think of me as a somewhat stern yet loving parent who doesn’t quite know how to mind their own business.”

“I thought that was Ann’s job,” Futaba mutters, heart hammering in her chest.

“Now,” Haru leans forward, and as if to prove her role, speaks in a gentle tone. “I’m not mad at you. That would be ridiculous. But I saw you two looking at these books, and I know how expensive they can be, so I’ll give them to you.”

She blinks. “You would?”

“Absolutely!” Haru smiles wide. “On the condition that you tell me why you need them.”

Futaba and Yusuke exchange a glance, before Futaba makes a T with her hands. “Timeout!” she yells, dragging Yusuke by the collar out of the RV.

“What do we do?” he whispers once the door is shut. “It’s not as if we can tell her.”

“I don’t know, maybe we should?” she pushes up her glasses. “Damn, the things money can buy you. Our vow of silence is getting thrown out the window for two handfuls of yen.”

He looks her dead in the eyes. “I would tell the world my deepest secrets if it meant having lifetime access to a grocery store.”

“Don’t say that, you sellout!”

“I’m not selling out. My art already reveals the deepest portion of my soul, it’s not my fault that the common observers cannot pick up what I’m putting down.” He squints against the setting sun. “She’s waiting. What do we do?”

“Okay, okay, okay, just let me—” her mind whirrs rapidly, and for a second she really feels like Sophia. “Give me a second.”

“I have a suggestion,” he points at her. “If we’re not averse to lying, let’s tell them that you need them for school. You’re struggling with academics, you need a bit of outside help, so we took a look at the textbooks.”

“Good idea! Wait.” She frowns. “They’ll never buy it. Let’s say that you need them.”

“I’m at the top of my class!”

“But they don’t know that!” She balls her fists together, determined. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“I didn’t say yes to this.”

Futaba kicks the door open, making Haru pause wiping her spilt drink mid-stroke. “Inari’s struggling with his classes!”

“I—“ Yusuke stammers. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’m struggling with my classes. They’re mighty indeed, and even I find them difficult. I am...struggling.”

Haru looks at them doubtfully. “Yusuke is?”

“I am,” he answers as Futaba says, “He is.”

“Yusuke,” she repeats, gesturing to the neatly-stacked pile of textbooks on the table. “Is struggling with precalculus?”

They stare at her. “Yes,” Yusuke says, slowly. “I am struggling with previous calculus.”

“Out of curiosity, Yusuke,” Haru scratches her cheek. “Do you know what a parabola is?”

“Of course I do,” he replies with the wisdom of a thousand monks. “It’s a self-contradictory statement.”

“That’s a paradox,” Makoto corrects from the steering wheel.

“What the heck?” Futaba jumps a foot in the air. “Why are you here? Why were you hiding?”

“I like to sit here a few hours before we start another road trip,” she says, before glaring at them. “You two. Does this have to do with Ryuji?”

“T-timeout!”

Futaba makes a beeline to the door again, but Haru’s faster. She slips past them, standing in their way, perfect smile still in place. Sometimes Futaba forgets how strong she is in negotiations; her and Yusuke were probably tutorial levels compared to the upper management of Okumura Foods. “Answer her question, please.”

Yusuke sighs, tired. “You know what you’re asking for, don’t you? If we tell you what’s happening here, it would be breaking the trust of one of our teammates.”

“Yusuke!” Futaba hisses. “Are you really thinking about telling them? It’s not even our secret to tell.”

“No, it isn’t.” He makes eye contact with Makoto. “But she made a point. What would make us better friends: if we kept a secret to the grave while letting him suffer, or tell someone who can help even if it means being some sort of tattletale?”

“But…” she trails off, resolve crumbling. “Dude. It’s going to suck so much.”

“I know.” He pats her head, before moving to Ryuji’s backpack once more. “Don’t worry, I’m willing to take his anger if need be.” Yusuke gestures to the booth. “Everyone, take a seat. It’s about time this finally gets cleared up.”

Smoothing out the envelope in his hand, even more crumpled than when they had it last, he clears his throat, takes one last glance at Futaba to make sure. At her tentative nod, he begins to read its contents in a loud, clear voice.

When he finishes, they sit there, staring at the thick paper in silence.

“Oh my god,” Makoto breathes. “I knew it was bad, but—”

Haru shakes her head. “Not this bad. And he talked about it so much, but we didn’t even…” she glances down at the textbooks, idly rubbing its spine. “I didn’t think much of it.”

“None of us did,” Yusuke says. “But does that make it any better?”

They fall in silence again, but Futaba can hear the answer loud and clear. Hell no.

The door opens forcefully, pulling them out of their stupor.

“What’s up, my beloved friends!” Ann calls, shopping bags in tow. “God, I’m gonna miss Sapporo. Things here are so cheap compared to Tokyo, sheesh!” She sets them down, laughing when nobody says anything. “Jeez, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“Ann-chan,” Haru says carefully, all sense of cheer, for intimidation or otherwise, gone. “Take a seat. There’s something you should know.”

—

The Ferris wheel looms over them, blocking out most of the sunset behind it. “Nice,” Ryuji grins appreciatively. “I should’ve seen this one coming.”

“You should’ve,” Akira agrees, tugging him into the open carriage. He goes in willingly. “It was staring at you the whole time we’re in Sapporo. And besides, every romantic movie has a Ferris wheel scene, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“Death note.”

Ryuji makes a face, and Akira laughs. “Yeah, I know. Bad example.”

It’s a tight squeeze but they sit next to each other, ignoring the bench in front of them. The seats are hot, and even though it’s nearly evening, the heat barely eases up on them. Still, he finds himself pressing himself against Akira. He runs cold, much colder than Ryuji; narrow wrists are ice, prominent collarbones frost.

The two of them lean over the window, pointing out random scenery as if it were the first time they were seeing them. Restaurants, statues. Weird looking cars and flower beds. Decorated high rises and insects that fly by. It’s like they were tourists, or a retired couple who just want to travel the world. He’s never wanted to be old before, but Akira always has a way of making him change his mind.

Like clockwork—Ryuji makes a joke. Akira laughs. His heart feels lighter.

When he finds himself leaning against him, feet up on the bench, Akira wraps his arms around his shoulders unhesitatingly. Ryuji wonders if he can hear the way his heart thuds inside his bones. He wonders if he knows it's for him. The Ferris wheel stops, right at the very top, gently swaying like it were a giant cradle. They’re not very high up, but it’s far enough that he feels like he’s left the entire world behind.

Ryuji presses his lips against those wrists, relishing in the way he can feel the heartbeat increase. “You nervous?”

He can feel his head shake behind him. “I’m happy, I think,” Akira says in a hushed voice, like it was a secret, like it was a sin.

A breeze flows through, and Ryuji closes his eyes when lips press against just below his ear.

Would it be worth it to have a Palace? A Jail? Would it be worth it to lose himself, just to be in this moment for the rest of time?

Carefully, he flips himself sideways, just so he can press more of himself against Akira. The carriage rocks gently, and the metal bench underneath them is sharp and uncomfortable. Arms tighten around him. Chest to back, knee to knee, they couldn’t be closer, but Ryuji leans back, wanting nothing more than to bottle the rhythm of his breathing and the smell of his soap.

I’m happy, too, I think, he wants to say. If we stayed like this for the rest of our lives, until our skin is permanently tattooed into the hot steel and our bones are the only thing they take out of this bench because the rest of us had already rotted, then I’d be pretty damn happy.

Craning his neck backwards, Akira is already staring.

Then he’s kissing him—once, twice, again and again, and Ryuji realizes that something’s different. This wasn’t the kind of kiss he was used to. There was a desperate air to it, an urgent edge from both of them that neither was ready for. Stealing each other’s breath and giving it back; the cycle continues, the clock keeps ticking.

Ryuji pulls himself up, not breaking the kiss, cupping his cheek and soaking him in like a flower to the sun; an endless yearning, like he’d shrivel up and suffocate if it vanished. The sun framed Akira, and for a split second, he feels like he understands what Yusuke sees on a canvas.

When they part, foreheads leaning against each other, Ryuji lifts a trembling hand to wipe the tear that rolled down Akira’s cheek.

“What’s up?” he asks softly. “Is something wrong?”

“I feel like you’re a miracle, Ryuji.”

How do you respond to that? When the person who said it feels like they’re the one who’s magic, who’s too good to be true?

“Fuck miracles,” he says, pulling Akira in again.

—

The circuit felt like it ended too soon, but it’s night when they finally stepped off, holding hands and faces flushed. He hopes the ride operator doesn’t hate them, but he’s in too good of a mood to really complain.

Ryuji stops in his tracks when he sees who’s in front of them.

“Ann?” Akira questions, taken aback. Eyes dark and brows pulled close together, clutching her purse like a weapon of war—she looks like she’d just seen someone set an orphanage on fire.

Her voice is shockingly deep, gaze fixed on Ryuji. “I’m borrowing him for a second.”

Before either of them can say anything, Ann takes him by the bicep, and he can only glance at Akira before he’s dragged back into the Ferris wheel.

“Did you even pay—?”

“Don’t start,” she hisses, pushing him on the bench, hard. “Don’t you dare start, you damn liar.”

His blood runs cold. “What?”

No. That’s impossible.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She shoves her hand in her bag and throws something rubber at him. “Do you know how long it took me to find a good one here? I spent my entire day in the shopping district—not looking for clothes, or shoes, or whatever the hell I thought would be fun. No, I spent our last day in Sapporo looking for that.”

Ryuji looks down at the hot compress in his hands, a lump in his throat.

“Because you weren’t doing anything to your knee,” she continues, jaw tight. “Despite me trying my best to help you get better. I thought that you must’ve been really fan-freaking-tastic at hiding the pain that you told me about. That I trusted was the truth because you’re one of my best friends and I trust you. I trust you with my life, my secrets—” Ann grits her teeth. “What the hell?”

“How did you find out?” he asks hoarsely.

She knows. If she knows, they could know. If they could know—

“Damn you, it doesn’t matter how I found out!” she throws her hands in the air, voice so hurt that it twists his insides impossibly tighter. “You think I would care? You think that this is important enough to lie to me about? Dammit, I don’t care that you—”

“Don’t say it,” he begs. “Please.”

“I don’t give a single shit that you failed second-year, Sakamoto!”

Her words ring against the steel walls, deafening.

Bile crawls up his esophagus, and he readies himself for another attack. But for some strange reason, his vision doesn’t blur. Instead, anger kicks in like it always does.

“You don’t care?” he asks, incredulous. “This doesn’t even have anything to do with you!”

“It does when you lie to me about it!” she yells back. “Do you not care about me? About your friends who would go to hell and back for you?”

“How dare you—!”

“You lied to me, you hid it from everyone else, you ignored our advice because it doesn’t mean shit to you.” She points a finger at him. “And look where that got you.”

“Shut up.”

“We all noticed, you know! Each and every one of us noticed that something was up, even the literal robot—”

“Shut the hell up, Ann.”

“And for what? All you accomplished was hurt our feelings, hold in yours, and keep it from the love of your life—”

Ryuji stands up, rocking the carriage and nearly toppling Ann off her feet.

“It’s because I fucking hate myself!”

She grips the barred window, eyes wide. They stare each other down for a few long moments, before the ride comes to an abrupt end. The door swings open, allowing a cheery greeting from the oblivious employee.

And then Ann sighs, shoulders deflating. “Come on,” she jerks her head to the door, before stepping out herself. “Let’s go.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled. “Where?”

“If we’re going to delve into the psyche of Sakamoto Ryuji, we might as well do it with some food in front of us.”

—

The cafe Ann takes him to is bright, filled with pastries and crowded with people—stools are pastel blue, baristas are wearing cute bowties, and each cup of coffee comes with an alarming amount of whipped cream on top. Sojiro would have a heart attack if he walked three kilometers of this place, but Ryuji’s glad that the resemblance is far and away than that of Leblanc.

The booth is pressed into the corner of it all; up against the window and far enough from the main bustle that they’d have to really put their all into it if they wanted to take their order. On one side sat Futaba, nervously tracing shapes on the window while Haru sits beside her. The opposite end has Yusuke and Makoto.

They all look up when they hear the bell chime, and Ryuji almost laughs. “It’s been a long ass time since I’ve seen you guys look so serious,” he remarks, sliding next to Makoto while Ann sits next to Haru. “Where’s the food at? Come on guys, food’s good for you.”

He raises a hand. “Excuse me! We’re ready!”

“Ryuji,” Futaba’s voice is brittle. “I—”

“Hold on shorty,” he reaches to pat her head, voice coming out soft. “We’ll get to that. I promise.”

A waiter comes, takes their drink order, and leaves. When he does, Yusuke places a heavy hand on the table. “I was the one who told everyone.”

“That’s not true!” Futaba cries out, and everyone jerks back in shock. “That’s bull! I’m the one who told him to go through your stuff ‘cause he was worried about you, but I’m the one who actually—”

“No, I’m the one at fault here,” Haru casts her gaze downwards. “It was really none of my business, but I forced these two to tell everyone here. I’m so sorry—”

Ryuji sighs. “Guys, it’s fine.” He’s met with an incredulous look. “Okay, it isn’t, but none of this is your fault, you know? I’m not mad.” His gaze shifts to Ann. “But you’re allowed to be mad at me. I know I shouldn’t have hidden it.”

She gives him a weighted look. “Then why did you do it?”

“Ann,” Makoto warns.

“No, I’m not budging on this.” She leans forward. “He lied to me. Lying doesn’t get you anywhere good. That was really stupid of you.”

“Ann!” Futaba cuts in, horrified.

“You’ve seen what happened with Shiho.” Ryuji flinches back like he’s been hit. He knows. Ann knows he knows. But she keeps going anyway. “She lied to me about what was happening, and I lied to her back. It kept going and going, and—” she snaps her fingers. “She’s gone from my life. For how long? I don’t know, maybe until we graduate. Maybe until her rehab ends. Maybe longer. Who knows? All I know is if we had just—talked, or—” Ann shakes her head, frustrated. “From the start. Tell us what happened. And afterwards, let us help you, or I swear to god I’m going to cry, and I know you can’t stand it when people cry.”

The silence is deafening, even with the clamor of people and voices around them.

Ryuji lets out a breath. “Yeah, alright.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You will?”

“I will,” he repeats, idly checking his pulse. Heart rate is a little quick, but in no danger of having another breakdown. “I’ll tell you everything.”

The waiter chooses that time to drop off their drinks; all cold except Haru, nursing a hot cup of tea. They definitely didn’t buy enough to justify the god-knows-how-long they’re going to spend here, but they’re just gonna have to suck it up.

“Alright,” he starts when they’re alone again. “We going from the start?”

“The very beginning,” Ann confirms.

With one last glance at his friends, he sighs, sits up straight, and flashes them the biggest grin he can muster:

“Hi,” he greets. “I’m Sakamoto Ryuji, and I failed my second-year of high school.”

No one’s expression shifts, not even an inch. He can’t help but be a little impressed. “You guys know that I’ve never been the greatest with books. Shit, screw greatest—I’ve ranked bottom five ever since I started middle school. Didn’t help that my leg got fucked to high heaven and everyone started hating me. Nearly dropped out a couple times. Had no one, really. Worst time in my life, hands down.

“So imagine this dumb little kid, middle of April, running into this guy.” Without meaning to, the grin shifts into something more genuine. “Good-looking dude, super smart, real charmer but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by lookin’ at him. And that guy saved my life. Ten, twenty, thirty times over. He was so great that the dumb kid obviously fell in love with him. But what’s even crazier is that the guy fell in love with the dumb little kid, too.

“Crazy, right? Sounds made up, but I promise it’s true.” He catches Futaba’s expression shift to exasperation. “I know, I can’t believe it either.”

“That’s not what I meant, you sap,” she says.

“Yeah, but that dumb little kid,” he explains. “Couldn’t believe it. Literally couldn’t believe it. Thinks that he struck the lottery, struck by damn lightning. I mean—” Ryuji laughs a little. “How can someone so amazing and cool be in love with such a moron? What made it worse…”

He gestures at all of them. “Was that the guy had so many people in his life who was also amazing. His social circle was made up of, and correct me if I’m wrong: a successful journalist, a politician, some dude from the mob, a random child who breaks gaming records on the daily, and I’m not even counting people from this goddamn table. So dumb little kid knows, he fucking knows that somehow, someway, he tricked the cool guy into falling in love with him. The kid sucked, no, sucks,” he corrects. “At everything. Can’t do anything worthwhile.”

“Ryuji…” Haru whispers.

“Almost done, I know it’s running on kinda long,” he promises. “So the dumb little kid became kinda obsessed with the group’s ‘activities’, and it’s obvious why he would, right? If he knows he’s not good enough for the guy he’s in love with, then he can at least try to be. But since he already sucked at school to begin with, dummy over here completely bailed on school and ended up flunking so bad that he failed an entire year.”

An entire year. An entire year.

It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe, but he’d rather get hit by a truck than lose it in front of so many people. Gritting his teeth, he does what he knows is bad, what every google search and YouTube video says you should not do—he pushes his feelings, far and hard away from himself, so far that it’s like it doesn’t even exist.

It works surprisingly well.

“And, uh—” Ryuji clears his throat. “He hid it. Because you know the one, single thing that’s worse than realizing you’re not good enough for the other person?”

No one answers. “Waiting for the day that they realize that you’re not good enough for them.”

“And that’s pretty much the bulk of it.” Reaching for his mug, he takes a sip of his lukewarm lemonade. Damn, he really did talk for a while. “I didn’t want to tell the rest of you because one, it’s really fucking embarrassing that I failed, and two—”

“Akira can’t know,” they all say in unison.

“Exactly, you guys get the point by now.” He drums his fingers against the table, trying to ignore the blatant gloom cast on all of their faces. “Question time starts now, if anyone wants to ask anything.”

Makoto opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. “If anyone even thinks about feeling pity, or be all ‘no, you’re smart actually!’, I am walking out of this cafe and I am not looking back.”

“What about summer school?” Makoto asks immediately. “If you didn’t want us to know, then you could’ve taken that without even telling us.”

“Summer school was never an option.”

“And why not?” she slaps her hand against the table. “It would’ve solved this entire situation!”

“Because Akira was coming home for the summer,” he says simply. “And I wanted to enjoy my time with him without this hanging over my head.”

Her jaw drops open. “But...that’s…”

“Stupid?” he offers. “Idiotic? Really dumb? Potentially throwing away my entire future? Yeah, I gotcha. Another part of it was that the thought of staying at Shujin for another minute makes me want to jump into traffic, if that helps make me look a little better in your mind, miss prez.”

Makoto’s expression of confusion freezes, taken aback by the harshness of his words. Ryuji cringes at himself. “Sorry.”

“No,” she says finally. “The fault is mine. I have no right to judge your actions, or to pretend I know what kind of stress is burdening you.” Hesitating, she asks, “May I request another question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were you going to do when we eventually go back to Tokyo?”

As expected of someone who went head-to-head against the ace detective in front of the entire school; her questions are brutal. “I don’t know, honestly. I was planning on ignoring the problem for now and just sort of,” he gestures vaguely. “Enjoy the summertime sun?”

“A moment,” Haru goes through her bag. “It’s a long story, but I have these—”

The second the books peek out of her tote, he recognizes the cover immediately. “Cram books? You bought some?”

“Yes!” she answers, mistaking his reaction for eagerness. “It’s a very small gesture, but I’d love for you to have them.”

“I—” he leans away from them, breath catching in his throat. “No.”

“No?” she blinks.

“Not now, senpai.” Trying out his new trick again, he forces his heart to slow down, forces his breathing to regulate again without any of the techniques, and forces himself not to feel any of the fear that he’d normally have to go through. It works, but barely. “I’m not—I don’t think I’m ready to deal with that yet.”

“That’s fine.” Haru puts them away, and as hard as he tries, he can still see how dejected she was. “I’ll hold on to them for you.”

“Thank you.” He glances around. “Any last takers? Q&A is almost up.”

“I have one,” Yusuke pipes up.

“Go for it.”

“How are you?” he asks genuinely.

Ryuji can’t help it—a laugh gets pulled out of him. “How am I?” he repeats.

“Yes. How are you?”

“Uh,” he laughs again. “Not good, man. Not good.”

Everyone startles when Ryuji stands abruptly. He slams down the rest of his lemonade, relieved at how it helps his parched throat. “Alrighty, that took a lot out of me! Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of being surrounded by fake coffee and poser cafe fanatics.”

“I’ll take care of the bill,” Haru says, following his lead and scooting out from the booth.

“What? No, come on. I don’t care how rich you are, at least let me pay half.”

“Ryuji.” She looks him dead in the eye. “I’ll take care of the bill.”

“...Yes ma’am.”

Slowly, they all start filing out, some exiting the cafe while Makoto goes to the till with Haru. Ryuji reaches for Ann’s elbow before she can leave. “Hey.”

Turning her head, it’s as if her lips were permanently stitched downwards. “Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry I lied to you,” he says, somber. “That was shitty, and it doesn’t matter what I’m going through—you can’t deal with lies. I get that. I won’t put you through that again.”

Ann kisses her palm before slapping it against his forehead. “You better not,” her voice drips in affection. “You said not to console you—”

“I did, and I meant it.”

“But I’m here for you,” she rubs his skin harder, and he winces at the chafing. “You know that, right? No matter how crazy the shit inside your head gets, I want you to talk to me.”

“I know it,” he says, not just because he wants the friction to ease up. “I know it now, for sure.”

“Good.” Ann releases him, and goes to join Haru and Makoto up front. “You might want to head out. Someone’s starting to make a fuss.”

“What?” he turns around, making direct eye contact with Futaba, nursing a blank expression on her face. “I see.”

The bell chimes once more when he steps out, relieved at the cool summer air that hits him. “Shorty,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “What’s good?”

“Here.” Ryuji glances down at her, who’s holding a familiar, now very-crumpled envelope between her fingers. It’s weird seeing her hold the letter announcing his failure like a bomb, but he understands the sentiment. “I had to show Ann because she wouldn’t believe me until I got some proof.”

“Thank you,” he says, shoving it in his pocket. “I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“I know you’re not.” She swallows and stares down at her shoes. Her laces were covered in little beads and stars, something he had bought for her during a weekend hangout once. “This isn’t me pitying you, or showering you with some kind of boohoo potion.”

She swallows again. “I failed my first year of high school. It was for a completely different reason—guilt for who I thought I killed rather than wanting to be something else. But I know. I know so much about what you’re going through.”

Futaba looks up, and his heart wrenches when he sees the tears in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry if I made you sad, or that I kept calling you stupid back then,” she sobs. “I don’t mean it, and I’m so mean to you all of the time but I don’t mean any of it. I told everyone your secret because I wanted to—” she hiccups, and she pushes her glasses to the top of her head. “I wanted to give you your own version of what the Phantom Thieves did for me, but I reached out to you guys back then. No one forced me to do anything, but I took that choice away from you.”

He pulls her in his arms, and her tears are hot even through his shirt. “I know, Futaba,” he says, patting her head. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

She hits his chest weakly. “Me taking care of you?” she sniffs. “I’m literally the one crying right now.”

“Just for now though,” he shrugs. “Next time I cry, you’ll be the one handing me tissues, I swear.”

They stand there, the two of them standing in the middle of Sapporo while people give them weird looks—Futaba, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, and Ryuji, refusing to ever let his emotions make things worse for everyone else again.

—

When they get back to the RV, each of them emotionally exhausted, Ryuji goes to kiss the top of Akira’s head. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Akira looks up from his card game with Morgana and Sophia. “You look like you had a wild night. Ann take you all somewhere fun?”

“Totally,” he says, sliding the letter back in his backpack. “Best night ever.”

“Take me next time. Sophia’s kicking our ass.”

“She is not!” Morgana denies, tail swishing. “Just a little,” he relents.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Ryuji announces, hiking his backpack on his shoulders and heading out, before running into Ann outside.

“Oh my god,” she says, disturbed. “He really, really doesn’t know.”

“Yup,” he moves past her. “And we’re keeping it that way.”

[pedalnorthvatome]

Day 6

For a campground, there was a lot of pickup truck traffic throughout the night. At 4:16am, someone started their diesel trunk and rattled the camp as they drove out. To compensate for all the noise in the middle of the night, I slept in.

It was a little foggy and chilly when we rolled out of our tents this morning. We lacked motivation to get going and we both agreed that today was going to be more like work than like fun. Since our Warmshowers hosts asked us to arrive after 5pm, we decided to stop often and make the best of the day.

Over the first ten to fifteen miles the roads had fewer vehicles and ran through farmland. As the day progresses we saw more trucks and the roads became much busier.

Our first stop was at mile 15 in the town of Galena, MD. We went to a little breakfast place where the staff was nice but not particularly friendly. However, our sausage, egg, and cheese on English muffins were good. We talked to a highway patrolman who mentioned the high, narrow bridge we had to cross 15 miles ahead in Chesapeake City. This gave me something to worry about for an hour and a half.

The bridge was worth the worry. It crosses the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal which carries ocean going cargo ships, so it had to be tall. Probably built in the 1950s, it had one narrow lane in each direction and a 3 foot wide sidewalk raised a foot above the road surface. For safety we decided to walk the mile from end to end. Every time a truck went by, we stopped and pressed against the railing. The reward after was 15 miles of canal trail.

We made it across!

Once we were up and over the bridge, we met a few retirees who were wrapping up their morning ride. They recommended the restaurant under the bridge. Since it was noon and we had 5 hours to go 30 miles we decided what the heck,

Schaffers is your typical waterside restaurant with lots of seating with water views. After having a second breakfast at 10am, Philip and I decided to go light on the food. I had the tomato based crab soup and a Caesar salad. Philip had the cream based crab soup and chicken wings. All was quite delicious.

Two versions of Maryland Crab Soup.

Outside the restaurant, we were stopped by two older gents from NJ who had come down to try the food. Their routine was to drive someplace new for lunch every few weeks. As a result, they had several restaurant recommendations for us. One of the guys got into the subject of high school sports and it just so happened that his school played my high school, Essex Catholic, back in the early 1960s. We both went on to rattle off a list of rival Catholic schools we knew.

Back on the road, 15 miles of wind in our faces canal trail. We passed relatively few people along the way. We generally focused on forward motion. We found a shortcut, that took us off the canal but onto some industrial roads. Ultimately, we found another bike trail that took us behind a few neighborhoods, under major highways, past a prison, and finally opened up onto a boardwalk over a marsh. That turned into a commercial riverwalk area with bars and restaurants.

15 miles into the wind.

Notice the barge on the canal.

When I say industrial roads I mean it.

Since we had time to kill, we stopped at a place called Big Fish Grill and enjoyed happy hour mussels diablo and buffalo shrimp with a couple beers. We sat and watched the dog walkers and the rowers on the Christina River as they went by.

View from the river walk.

Our Warmshowers was within a few miles. A very nice couple hosted us. They gave us our space. Generally, our evening was uneventful. We did laundry, I finished the book I was reading, and we were ready for sleep by 9am.

All in a days work.

Cheers!

Addition to beer list:

Big Oyster Hammerhead IPA Lewes, DE

[reinerispretty]

beneath the moon (sokka x f!reader) pt2

hello!! and thank u so much for all of ur positive feedback on part 1! i really appreciate u :) i hope you’re having a great day!

pt1

pt3

As she rounded a corner, her face instantly smacked into someone’s chest. The force knocked both of them to the ground and (Y/N) groaned as she rubbed her nose. “Geez, watch where you’re going,” (Y/N) muttered as her eyes welled with tears from the pain. 

Yue was avoiding (Y/N). 

Because of their status, the two princesses had a routine that they adhered to. While (Y/N) was at her healing lessons, Yue attended meetings with their father. When (Y/N) watched Master Pakku train the men, Yue visited the Healer to make sure her health was in order. (Y/N) knew every single movement that her sister was going to make on any given day, but today was different. Yue hadn’t attended their father’s meetings, nor could (Y/N) find her at the Healer’s hut. The girl sighed and walked down into the city to search for her sister. 

It was an hour before (Y/N) saw Yue passing in one of the boats that drifted through the canals. (Y/N) walked along the icy sidewalks parallel to her sister. “Yue!” She shouted. Her sister glanced at her before turning away. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and stopped, watching her sister float further and further away. Then, she started running. Yue’s blue eyes widened as she realized what she was about to do. 

“(Y/N), don’t!” Yue shouted, but it was too late. (Y/N) leapt through the air and landed inside the boat, causing it to rock and splash icy cold water inside. The rower glared at the princess before turning back to his job. “You know that’s so dangerous!” 

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said as she caught her breath. “For yesterday, not for jumping in the boat.” Yue looked away from her and at the passing shops. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I just got so angry when Hahn told me you guys were engaged.” 

Yue raised a thin eyebrow. “Hahn wasn’t supposed to tell you.” 

“Well, he did. And he was a real jerk about it too, asking if he’d be Chief one day. I told him that I’d rather choke on sea prunes than let that happen.” 

Yue giggled. “That wasn’t very kind of you.” 

“You’re the kind one,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “Happy birthday, Yue.” Her older sister smiled at her softly before leaning forward to hug her. (Y/N’s) body tightened up, but she relaxed a bit to hug her sister back. “I got you something.” 

(Y/N) reached into her pocket and handed Yue a package wrapped in paper and tied with twine. Yue took it and set it in her lap. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“Of course I did. You only turn sixteen once.” Yue removed her gloves and opened the package, unfurling the scroll that was inside. It was a picture of the two of them. Yue wore a bright smile on her face, while (Y/N)’s smile was much more subdued. “This is amazing! Did you paint this?” 

(Y/N) nodded, biting her lip to contain her own smile. “I’ve been working on it for a few months.” Yue hugged her again. 

“This is the best gift I’ve ever received,” she said softly. “I’ll cherish it forever, thank you.” 

(Y/N) waved a hand in the air. “It’s no big deal. Hey, could you stop right here?” The rower came to a stop and (Y/N) hopped out of the boat. “I have to go get ready for tonight.” 

“See you then,” Yue said, before the boat continued on its way. (Y/N) walked back up to her family’s igloo and to her room, where she began with the intention of picking out her nicest coats for tonight’s dinner. Instead, her mind wandered, and instead of getting dressed, she started digging around her room for a jar of paint that she hadn’t seen in a while. When she looked out her window, the sun was setting, and she nearly let out a scream of panic. 

She dressed herself quickly, combed out her hair and braided it quickly as she ran out the door. She ran through the city, dodging passerby like she had done this before. (Which she had. As much as (Y/N) despised being late, sometimes she lost herself in her own little world, where time passed super quickly.) She ran across the bridges and hopped over canals to reach the courtyard where the feast would take place. 

As she rounded a corner, her face instantly smacked into someone’s chest. The force knocked both of them to the ground and (Y/N) groaned as she rubbed her nose. “Geez, watch where you’re going,” (Y/N) muttered as her eyes welled with tears from the pain. She could barely see the boy through her tears, but she could tell that he was from the Water Tribe. He didn’t look like anyone she recognized, but perhaps she had just never noticed him. 

“Me? You were the one running!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and got to her feet, taking off to her destination. When she finally reached the steps that led up to the courtyard, the stars and moon has risen. She caught her breath, straightened her coats, and walked calmly up the steps. She felt the eyes of some of the elders on her, but she simply walked quickly over to where Yue was and sat beside her. 

“You’re late,” Yue whispered to her, a smile playing on her lips. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“Maybe next year I’ll be on time.” The two sisters giggled before their father started speaking. 

“Tonight,” He began, “We celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe.” (Y/N) blinked in surprise as her eyes landed on the duo that had accompanied the Avatar. The girl was small, about a year or so younger than herself, but the boy was the one she had run into on her way here. His eyes met hers and (Y/N) looked away quickly, back at her father. “And they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now...the Avatar! We also celebrate my eldest daughter's sixteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!” 

Yue blushed as the crowd cheered for her. “Thank you, Father. May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times.” 

As Master Pakku and his students performed their waterbending, (Y/N) could hardly keep her eyes off of it. Yue had to pull her over to the feast table, where (Y/N) was sat between the two Water Tribe siblings and Yue was sat on the end. She felt a bit uncomfortable sitting between strangers, but she picked food onto her plate and ate quietly. The girl next to her nudged her with her elbow to get her attention. 

“Hi, I’m Katara, I don’t think we’ve met,” She said with a smile. (Y/N) smiled tightly back. 

“I’m (Y/N),” She said, taking a sip of water from her cup. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“The guy on the other side of you is Sokka and this is Aang.” The Avatar waved at (Y/N) as he ate his food. 

“We’re very happy to have you all here,” (Y/N) said. “It’s rare that we get outsiders coming to the city.” 

“Hi there. Sokka, Southern Water Tribe,” The boy to her left said to Yue. (Y/N) glanced at her sister to see if she was welcoming the conversation. If she wasn’t, she would immediately shut it down. But Yue seemed to be enjoying herself, so (Y/N) relaxed and turned back to Katara.

“Are you and Yue friends?” Katara asked. (Y/N) furrowed her brows and shook her head. 

“We’re sisters.” Katara’s eyes widened. 

“I’m so sorry, Princess, I meant no disrespect!” (Y/N) laughed. 

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t expect you to know that. We don’t exactly look alike.” 

“So ... uhhh ... you're a princess, huh?” (Y/N) heard Sokka say. “You know, back in my tribe, I'm kind of like a prince, myself.” 

Katara laughed. “Prince of what?” 

Sokka turned to face her, his eyes instantly meeting (Y/N’s). She saw the recognition pass over his face as he said, “You’re the girl who ran into me today!” 

(Y/N) pursed her lips. “Sorry about that. I was late to, well, here.” She shrugged, taking another large sip of her water. 

“You ran into him?” Yue asked. Her sister nodded. 

“Like, really hard. My nose still hurts.” 

“Not as much as my butt does from being knocked over,” Sokka grumbled, before turning back to Yue. 

(Y/N) turned back to Katara and engaged in pleasant conversation with her the remainder of the night. She told (Y/N) all about their adventurers on their way up to the Northern Water Tribe and each one had (Y/N) absolutely transfixed. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” she said. “I’d love to see something other than snow.” 

Katara had laughed. “I felt the same way!” 

(Y/N) and Yue walked home together, their arms linked. Yue rested her head on (Y/N’s) shoulder. “I really liked the boy I met tonight. Sokka? Did you get a chance to meet him?” 

(Y/N) held in her smile. “Not formally. You spent the whole night keeping him to yourself.” Yue giggled, her face blushing a bright pink. “I’m glad you had fun. You deserve it.” 

“He wants to meet me to do an activity together.” (Y/N) raised her eyebrow. 

“What kind of activity?” Yue gently nudged her sister in the side. 

“Nothing like that, you goose.” (Y/N) grinned. “Just...hanging out.” 

“I wish I could see Hahn’s face when he sees the two of you ‘hanging out.’“ 

“Do you think he’d be mad?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I, for one, don’t care at all about Hahn’s feelings. As long as you’re doing what makes you happy, Yue, it shouldn’t matter.” Yue hummed as they reached their igloo and said their goodnights. 

“Happy birthday, Princess!” (Y/N) called out to her sister as she walked down the hall. 

“Thank you, Princess!” Yue called back. 

---

Tag List!

@aangsupremacy , @treestarrrrrrrr , @beifongsss , @mdgrdians , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @aimee1602 , @plxstic-rose , @davnwillcome @squeamishdionysus , @clowninfortodoroki @thia-aep , @jinxed-tea @sara5208 @valiantprincessthea @alrightazula , @awesomelupe , @itsivyberry

[b00ket]

Its been a hot sec since ive done a just text post, so in an attempt to not feel pressure to post art every time I want to drop lore…

✨ Lucas is a dipshit and this is why people don’t like him ✨

Okay this is going to need some context but

Lucas’ presence makes people go on guard, they’re uncomfortable and awkward around him. Even if he is being extremely nice people who have lived there for more than even a year are nervous when he’s in the general area.

Occasionally some people feel threatened enough by his presence to try attacking him, sometimes he just takes it, other times he doesn’t. He’s still a very easy dude to set off.

He’s only been working his job at the docks for just a year. Trying to shake off his reputation has proven extremely difficult.

Family tidbits (this is relevant I swear)

His father, Bekarys Karimov, was well loved by the city, hosting soup kitchens on a regular basis and being known for giving away so much free food. His restaurant often doubled as a safe haven for criminals after dark. People generally knew him as the nice food guy with all those kids.

Lucas’ 2 aunts, Uuliinyagaansetseg and Sarnai Karimov,were constantly organizing and attending protests against Lucio’s rule and helped set up secret words to avoid Lucio’s spies around the city (particularly the marketplace). Most people did just think of them as gossipy and bringing guards to the streets. Also we’re annoying to talk to and had many rumors swirling around them.

Temujin Karimov, the eldest sibling, was entrenched in the Red Market. All sides of it, from the light selling of goods to the nastier side of it. He was a man of secrets and was considered more dangerous as time went on. Needed someone killed, got some nasty narcotics to transport? Hes your guy. Him and his gang of crime buddies are particularly responsible for almost all the bad connotations the Karimov name holds OUTSIDE of Lucas.

Okay actually onto Lucas:

So for the 1st 12ish years of his life Lucas was actually pretty well liked. The most shy out of all the Karimov kids and not known for being social he was a pretty blank slate. Most people mainly knew about him finding his sister in that canal, so pity was given to him. He definitely went more inward with himself as time went on, notably looking just distant most of the time.

The public execution of his aunts is when things started going downhill. Their execution was a big deal, and brought all those bad rumors and talk about them back into the city streets.

Lucas is a protective shit, ESPECIALLY with his family. Talk shit get hit as they say. Lucas walking the streets hearing you talk bad about any of his siblings is going to cause a fight.

That defensive fighting just kinda devolved into fighting all the time. He walked around with a “im going to beat your ass” vibe. Glaring at everyone and being generally disrespectful to anyone that isnt his family. (Lots of reasons behind him being like this that I dont have time to dive into)

So 15 is when his little brother died. This particular death broke the family a little and Lucas got the brunt of it (cause the family did agree it was his fault). Verbally and physically abused, kicked out for days at a time, he was homeless as often as he was at home.

By this point Lucas had been labeled the problem child, a walking bomb of anger that will steal your shit and beat your ass. (An exaggeration but rumors tend to do that) No one really wanting to help him when he was out of the house just made his anger worse.

He was fortunately liked by most orphans and acted as a occasional older brother. (He always had a prep bag at home full of food he snuck off in case he was kicked out, most of that food did go to those orphans)

He did get a small gang that, after Jargal’s death in the coliseum, went full ham in vandalizing Lucio’s shit around Vesuvia and messing up the Heart District.

So here’s the big thing, HE WAS A GLADIATOR. 4 years of being an executioner of MANY did not help his relationship with the people.

Thats cut and dry, he escapes and is under his Temujin’s care. And Temujin is shit and helping him, he hasnt even touched his own issues he cant help with whatever hes going on. Any tries he made just made things worse tbh.

Lucas during and after gladiator times is just mute. Temujin’s few attempts to just take him out into the public backfired hard enough for him to just keep Lucas at home and only take him out when he’s doing his job with his gang.

Last family members DIE, Lucas is torn up and is puppetted by Temujin’s old friends into being the muscle for them when they went out to gamble.

So in conclusion

Lucas hasn’t been an active threat on the streets for around a year. His name is synonymous with danger and people react accordingly.

He tries to be nice and kind, not to notice the looks and mood shifts when he enters a room but its hard.

The docks and ash beach are the only places he doesn’t feel completely ostracized. The orphans are mostly too young to feel in danger around him. Plus he brings them food.

He doesn’t want to get in the way or make people uncomfortable. Only shopping either late at night or early morning. He takes back alleys to limit interactions.

It doesn’t always work, some dude attacks him out of fear or anger at the things he’s done. Not sure if he should just be passive and take the beating or letting his anger get the best of him is a battle.