#and also their desperation and the way they threw themselves together in this particular situation felt IC and made sense

[carpisuns]

cant stop thinking about how elation might have played out if:

a) marinette did not repeatedly refer to herself as a "fan" but rather a friend, since they have been through a lot together and have hung out and gone to the movies. and she has also yelled at him angrily multiple times, unlike any other starstruck fan he's ever met

b) andré ran a normal business and just like. served the customers who approach his cart lol

[thetoiletwater]

The "LGB without the T" TikTok and its comments are so rich with enlightening context about transgender ideologues and qu**r theorists' views of the world, and in particular gay rights activism. Aside from the general historical revisionism ("trans women of color threw the first brick at Stonewall" already being something we're all familiar with being wrong in almost every sense, along with the other statements asserting that gay people are not responsible for any of their own activism or attaining of rights), there are a few things of particular note that I want to call attention to.

For starters, I want to shine a spotlight on the second most common sort of comment present in your screenshots (aside from the aforementioned historical revisionism): "You can't leave us." Not in the sense of denial or disbelief, but as a statement of authority. This can be seen in the comments of users coffaeiene, ch1oethebitch, and the user whose name is cropped out of the top of the fourth screenshot.

Now, I understand that the tone of these comments are intended to be jokes. However, I also understand that abusive, entitled, and narcissistic people can, and often do, make jokes about the exact sort of behavior they genuinely present. This is an extremely common form of gaslighting used in abusive relationships. "It's just a joke" doesn't simply serve to negate what has been said, but to call into question if someone who would make jokes that are supposedly mocking abusive behavior would truly be abusers, themselves.

When we contextualize all of the comments with that in mind, as context (though I understand that, to many, this will come across as pretentious; I have seen the way modern conversations have become overly-saturated with psychological terminology and comparisons, myself), the rest of the contents will become eerily familiar to anyone who knows even the slightest thing about emotional abuse (be it romantic, platonic, familial, religious, etc.). "You cannot leave. You are helpless without me. I have done everything for you. If you leave, you will be in danger. Others will harm you more than I have. I will not save you if you leave me. You will be harming me if you go. You are being selfish. Your views are ridiculous and unjustified. You just don't understand how much I have done for you." We are simultaneously helpless victims that they are burdened with protecting, and cruel parasites that do nothing for them.

Anyone familiar with this sort of situation would know it crumbles under the weight of a single question: If it's true, why are they so desperate to keep us? Surely, if they have any reason to so much as believe this, regardless of if it's actually true or not, they would abandon us, or at least allow us to leave them.

The mask of the abuser slipped slightly in one comment, however. "The pettiness in me is saying we should just leave them behind and let them suffer their battles," the user conspicuously named the_rainbow.system says. "But," the comment continues "I know that would divide the community more." The implication here being that the people infuriated by LGB separating from the "TQIA2S+" believe the same-sex attracted individuals attempting to go their own way are both self-destructive and the only thing holding either group (both the LGB and the unrelated TQIA2S+) together, the only thing keeping any of this afloat. It is the precise conflicting sentiment a narcissist would hold over one of his victims; a truth and a lie that do not, and cannot, combine. We are parasites who do nothing for them, or even ourselves, but we are necessary for them to survive.

tl;dr The way TRAs and qu**r theorists speak about LGB people and activists is precisely the same way abusers speak about their victims (if you will pardon me for using psychological terms that have become buzzwords)

Very true. On top of that the way they talk about it is so childish like "why are we being excluded!!!!" is such a immature response; as if LGB is just a fun little club. Sorry but if you're not ssa it's not about you 🤷‍♀️

[court-of-forever-undone]

I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary:  While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence. 

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude. 

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces​ 

If anyone else would like to join the list, let me know! 

[imaginedisish]

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards (Tenet) Neil x Reader

A/N: Hey there guys!!! I’m back...again ahhhhh. I’ve been gone for a while (I always am) but hopefully I’ll be back for a while now :) I hope you’re all staying safe and doing well. I know the world is ass, but hopefully things will be better soon. Anyway, I’m obsessed with Tenet right now and I decided that I had to write a Neil x Reader one shot (I love Robert Pattinson, it’s a problem) Also, I think this is my longest fic yet...if someone wants to let me know how to do the “keep reading” thing, please tell me omg. I’m so sorry to those who have to scroll through this. Hopefully I can change that. Anyway folks, ENJOY!!!

p.s pls request tenet stuff. gimme some smut to write.

Summary: You allow your feelings for Neil to get in the way, causing you to compromise the mission and put everyone in danger. (AU, obviously because of the reader insert, and also because this particular scene does not actually happen in the movie).  ~loosely based off “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” by Tame Impala~

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, guns, blood, wounds, cursing, angst, possibly implications of being “lovers (or friends with benefits)” and luckily fluff :) 

Word Count: 4,163 (Please fucking teach me how to add the “read more” thing holy shit)

You storm down the cold, grey, skinny hallway lit with dimmed fluorescents. There was something inexplicably chilling about this place, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on exactly what that thing was. Maybe it was the way the lights reflected against the walls, glowing subtly against the tiles. It wasn’t a pretty glow. It was the glow one could expect to see along the walls of a morgue. 

Maybe it was the peculiar, dull ringing that followed you down the corridor, haunting your every step. Maybe it was the simple sound of your heels clicking against the concrete floors, and the idea that those clacks could call someone to your very location and leave you absolutely defenseless. Maybe it was the fact that you only had two bullets left in your glock. 

Or, it was because he wasn’t with you anymore. 

You quickly shake off the thought that he, of all people, could make you feel better. You didn’t need him. Hell, you didn’t need anyone, you thought to yourself. But still, your mind kept circling back to the image of him popping up in front of you, taking your hand and leading you away to- 

You cut yourself off. You couldn’t let your mind wonder for that long, especially about Neil. Still, you can’t help but flash back to just minutes ago, when Neil was by your side, when you made the massive mistake of letting your feelings get away of the mission. 

Neil pulled you down the hall, his hand firmly clasped around the upper part of your right arm. He was practically dragging you with him since you couldn’t keep up with his speed. 

Finally, Neil yanks you into an alcove, hoping you two can hide for at least a few minutes before running again. 

“Neil you need to give me an answer, what the fuck is-,” Suddenly, Neil pushes you against the wall, his right hand presses hard on your hip while his left hand covers your mouth. His face is in yours. Any personal space between you two is non-existent. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your nose. He’s so close that you can feel wisps of his dirty blonde hair dance across your forehead. 

He smirks, “No time for answers.” You felt a twinge in your stomach, like butterflies, or maybe something much more gross, because now was not the time for Neil to make you feel this sort of way. 

The worst part is that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He carefully selects each and every movement he makes. He removes his hand from your mouth and places it at the nape of your neck instead, his thumb brushing lightly just below your hairline. 

You stifle a quiet moan at his touch. “N-Neil, what are you doing?” Your voice is quiet, but shaky. 

“Keeping you calm, I can tell you’re about to lose it,” He says matter-of-factly. Of course that’s the only reason, there’s nothing romantic here, and there never will be. 

‘Neil will never feel the way I feel about him’ you think to yourself. You can’t help but get a bit angry at his ability to put you under his spell. Despite your heart racing, despite your brain being bent out of shape by the close proximity of Neil, you can’t help but feel calmer. And you hated that. You were too stubborn for your own good. 

He breaks the silence, “Are you alright? I figured you’d have something to say. You said you wanted to talk to me before, didn’t you?” 

Before…when you had planned on telling him how you felt. You were going to tell him before.  Before the mission escalated past the point of return. Before you had ruined everything. Before Neil risked his life to bring you to safety. You had fucked up this time, insurmountably. It wasn’t entirely your fault, but you didn’t make it much better. 

Neil blew the entire team’s cover all to save you. You forgot the script, all because you were far too concerned with how you were going to handle your feelings for Neil. It wasn’t just any mission, either. It had to do with Sator’s henchmen. This was Tenet’s way in. This was how you could get more information. This was how you could save the world. 

And yet, you brought it all down. Somehow, Sator’s men believed that you were the only spy, and that everyone else was legitimate. They were going to kill you and spare the others, but Neil practically threw you out of the room and down the hall before anything could happen. The second he grabbed you, gun shots erupted. Now you had to pay for it, hiding in a barely-lit, cold hallway, with Sator creeping somewhere close behind, ready to attack. 

Suddenly, the guilt began to overwhelm you. What if this was it, what if you would be the reason Neil would die? What if your actions destroy the mission all together? Tears free themselves from your eyes, sliding slowly down your cheeks. 

“Hey,” Neil whispers as he moves the hand that rested on your neck up to your left cheek. He wipes away a few tears with his thumb. “It’s alright. We’re going to be fine, don’t worry-,”

Before he can get another word out, you grab his hand. “Stop, please, just stop,” You plead, unable to take anymore. He has to know what he’s doing to you, he just has to, you think, as your sadness slowly turns to anger. It irritated you that he was able to swoop in and save your day. It irritated you that he was able to touch you and comfort you, despite the lack of relationship that you desperately wanted fulfilled more than anything. None of this was fair. It wasn’t fair that he could be this non-nonchalant while you were practically doubled over with butterflies and other real anxieties from the situation you were currently in. 

Neil looks a bit more annoyed now. “I’m just trying to help,” He says, his eyes staring deeply into yours. Those eyes, you could drown in them if you weren’t careful, so you snap back into reality, allowing yourself to feed into your anger. 

“Maybe I don’t need your help,” You say, instantly regretting the words as they leave your lips. 

The corners of Neil’s mouth turn up slightly, his cocky attitude showing yet again. “So back there, earlier,” He gestures backwards, to the past, “You didn’t need my help?” 

You shake your head, “I’m just sick of this.”

Neil’s smile fades away as a confused look finds itself on his face. “Of what?” There’s a sadness in his voice. “Us?” 

His use of“Us” immediately takes you back. ‘What the fuck does he mean by “Us”?’ You ask yourself. You were undeniably close, but he never confirmed or denied his feelings for you.

Your stomach does a back flip before you allow yourself to grow angry again. 

“There is no ‘Us’, and that’s the problem Neil,” You say, pushing him off of you. He stumbles out of the alcove and rushes back in, closing the space between you and him once again. 

Neil gives you a puzzled look.“Bloody hell,” you hear him mumble under his breath. “What the fuck are you talking?” There’s a seriousness in his voice now. His cocky facade disappears into nothingness. He’s frustrated, and it’s all because of you. 

You just couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to say it. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel.” Your voice is louder now, and it seems as though you’re practically begging to give away your hiding spot. “Neil I-,”

He covers your mouth with his left hand once again. “Alright that’s it,” His voice is still quiet, “You’re the one that needs to stop now. You don’t know how much I-,” 

You push him into the wall before he can get a word out, just as he had interrupted you seconds ago. 

You step out into the hallway. “I don’t know what? How much you don’t care about me?” You notice the sudden pain in Neil’s face. You didn’t expect that, but you also refuse to believe it’s real. “I don’t need you, Neil. I never have and I never will.” 

You begin walking down the hallway as Neil whisper shouts your name, trying to get you to come back without blowing your cover. 

“(Y/N)! Please!” He calls out. 

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality and stops you dead in your tracks, “(Y/L/N), I’ve been waiting to meet you.” It’s a familiar voice, a voice you’ve heard before. It’s bitter, callous and malignant. A chill runs up your spine as the name of the voice dawns on you. You flinch, quickly stepping backwards and spinning around to look at the devil-man in front of you. Although, you know he would prefer if you referred to him as a god. 

“Sator,” You curse, spitting on the ground disrespectfully. You brandish your gun, trying to put on your best fake-confident face. Sator doesn’t know you only have two bullets left, and quite frankly he doesn’t need to, you think to yourself. 

Before you can even aim, Sator launches towards you. 

You jump back, and turn around to run. There’s no way you could get away from him in what you were wearing. Your black kitten heals slowed you down a great deal. Your tight, black dress made it hard for you to move in any way at all. 

Sator is right behind you. You kick off your heels, allowing you to speed up a bit. While running barefoot is much better, you know you can’t last forever. You run for a few more seconds before realizing that Sator is only getting closer. 

You turn around, back peddling now. You hold your glock up and aim. 

BANG! 

The bullet misses Sator and ricochets off the tiled wall. What the fuck? You think to yourself as the bullet falls to the ground. The walls must be bullet proof or something. 

Sator is almost within an arm’s reach of you. You lift your gun again and take aim. 

BANG!

But it’s no use. you miss again. This time, the bullet hits such an angle that it comes back straight towards you. It grazes against your left side. 

“FUCK!” You cry out in pain, stumbling a bit. You try your best to continue running, but the pain is far too great to keep going. You feel your legs starting to give out. You crumble to the ground, letting a small whimper of pain escape your lips. You grab your side, blood draining into your hands and onto the floor. 

Sator chuckles maliciously. “You seriously thought you could get away? This is my place. You’re playing in my world,” He shakes his head and reaches for his gun. He points the weapon directly at your head,

“And just so you know, I’m God here.” 

Tears form in your eyes as you hear the gun cock. You brace yourself for impact as your thoughts find their way back to Neil. You hate how you left things, especially considering that would be the last conversation he ever had with you. Guilt began to grow heavy in your stomach. 

What a way to die, totally and completely guilty, a failure, and alone, You think to yourself, as tears fall down your cheeks.

Sator chuckles again. “Crying are we know? Too late for tears, (Y/N). I think you’re all out of time.” You shudder at his words and you prepare for this moment to be your last, shutting your eyes tightly. 

“No! (Y/N)!” A familiar voice cries out from behind you. 

BANG!

You open your eyes to see Sator standing in his place, the gun now pointing above your head. You look down and see a single bullet right next to you. It must have ricochetted off the wall, just like yours did. But where did it come from? You think. 

Turning around slowly, you spot who Sator is pointing his gun towards.

“N-Neil,” You stutter, wincing in pain simply from talking. His gun points back at Sator. His eyes nervously look you up and down. This was far different from when the evening started. You remembered the way Neil looked at you when you had finished getting ready. You remember how he knocked on the door to your hotel room and let himself in. He didn’t wait for you to give him the okay. 

“Wow,” Neil said, taken back by your tight, little black dress. He looked you up and down, seemingly removing each article of clothing in his head. “You look incredible.” 

You missed that moment now. You wish you could just go back. But now you were faced with reality, with a gun in your face. 

Sator looks down at you, and back up to Neil. “I think I’ll let you watch her die, and only after you watch her take her last breath, I’ll kill you too. How’s that?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Neil states confidently. You look up at him, confused. 

Just as Sator pulls the trigger, Neil grabs your arm and slides you out of the way. 

In the near distance, just a short ways behind Sator, you see a fiery cloud of orange erupt, followed by a massive boom. Neil somehow was able to orchestrate some sort of explosion.

Sator stops in his tracks and turns to look behind him, giving Neil just enough time to pick you up and run down the hallway, turning down a series of other corridors in an attempt to outrun Sator. 

It isn’t long before Neil realizes that you’re bleeding onto him. “H-holy shit,” He looks down to your left side. “I need to get you out of here.” 

You ignore what he’s saying. “Why did you come back for me?” You whisper to Neil. 

He steals a quick look at you as he continues to run down the hallway, but he doesn’t answer your question. 

You clear your throat and try again. “Why did you come back?” 

He ignores you again as you approach an intersection of 3 hallways, each one looking the exact same as the one you’re currently in. Neil pauses for a second, contemplating his options. His heart is beating out of his chest. You’ve never seen him this nervous. While you had only been at Tenet for about half a year now, you had grown to know Neil far too well. The stolen moments you shared, the kisses you swore to tell no one about. You didn’t know what you were with Neil. You didn’t know if this was superficial or real to him. But, you knew his emotions like you knew the back of your hand. You could tell he was panicking. You had never seen him quite like this. Something was different. Suddenly, Neil grunts and choses to go down the hallway to your right. 

You wanted to say something to him, to talk to him, but you felt yourself falling in and out of consciousness. You knew you needed to stay awake. Neil looked down to check on you and immediately noticed your condition. 

“Stay with me, okay?” He begged. You had never heard Neil talk like this before. “Please stay with me. I’m right here, it’s going to be okay.” He started to pick up his pace, practically sprinting down the hallway now. 

“N-Neil?” You managed to call out to him. 

“Yes, darling?” He responded between gasps for air. You could tell that he was getting tired. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, looking around his body for any signs of blood or even for a possible gun shot wound. 

Neil starts to slow down a bit. He looks down at you again, “I’m alright. It’s you I’m worried about.” 

“You’re not actually worried, are you?” You ask. 

Neil stops for a second, completely out of breath. He takes this as an opportunity to look at your injuries again. He puts his hand over your wound and feels all the blood that’s there. He shakes his head, clearly nervous about how much blood you’ve lost. He readjusts his hold on you, making sure you’re secured in his arms.

He brings his face closer to yours. “Fuck, of course I’m worried about you,” He says in a stern tone. He seems annoyed at the thought that you didn’t know he cared about you. “What the fuck would make you think otherwise?” He isn’t just annoyed now, he’s angry, yet he doesn’t take his face away from yours. You can feel his breath on your nose, just like you did before. The wisps of his hair greet your forehead again too. 

“I-I guess I just don’t know how to read you,” You say, taking a deep breath once you finish your sentence. Neil quickly picked up on your labored breathing and began to jog again. 

There’s silence for just a few seconds before Neil finds the right words to say. “I came back for you because I care about you. The second you left I chased after you. You were just far too quick for me.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. You didn’t know how much he cared for you. You figured he only saw you as a member of the team, a coworker, a girl to flirt with, someone he had to care for out of convenience and association. The way he was speaking now lead you to believe that he cared for you far beyond that. You stare up into his blue eyes, gathering the courage to finally confess how you feel to him. You felt yourself slipping more quickly out of consciousness, and you desperately wanted him to know how you felt. 

“Neil, I just want you to know that-,”

Your words are interrupted by the loud swinging of a door. Suddenly, you’re outside the now flaming building and in the bitter, dark night. The wind whips and nips at your bare skin. You take a quick look around and remember that you’re in Amsterdam. At least it’s a pretty place to die, You think to yourself. You shiver as the wind attacks you again. 

Neil notices how cold you are. He sets you down on a nearby bench and takes his brown suit jacket off, draping it over you. He picks you up and starts jogging again. 

Just a short ways up the street is the BMW he had been driving for the mission. He opens the car door with one hand, making sure to keep you nestled into his chest with the other. He puts you down on the passenger’s seat, buckles you in, and carefully shuts the door. 

When he gets in on the other side, he sees you drifting off again. “Come on, (Y/N), stay with me, please,” He pleads. He leans over to you and gently kisses your forehead. Your eyelids throw themselves open as Neil’s lips leave your skin. He starts the car engine and begins to drive away. He doesn’t say a thing, but you can’t stop thinking about what just happened. 

“What was that?” You ask, wondering if he simply did that to distract you, to wake you up. He had to know what effect he had on you. 

Neil doesn’t say a thing. He only speeds up, blasting through red lights and ignoring stop signs. You look over at him. He looks like an absolute mad man. His dirty blonde hair is a mess. Dark, purple bags rest under his blue eyes. 

At one point, Neil turns the on the radio and glances at you. “Try to listen to some music, maybe it can keep you awake.” Or maybe his concern for your well being could be enough motivation for you. 

It feels like I only go backwards baby,

Every part of me says, “Go ahead”

I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again,

Feels like we only go backwards, darling. 

Neil somehow gets even faster. You notice that he’s pushing the gas pedal all the way into the floor of the car. You manage to get out one final sentence before losing consciousness, “If I don’t die from this wound, I might die from your driving.”

Then, your eyes shut and the whole world goes black. 

——

Your eyes feel like they’re glued shut, but you force them to open. There’s an arm pulling you in tightly to a firm, warm chest. You inhale deeply, instantly recognizing the scent. 

It was Neil. His face was right in front of yours. He looked so calm, so relaxed. Either this was Heaven, or he somehow managed to save your life from his hotel room. You were hoping it was the latter. You wanted this to be real life.

Neil began to stir about a bit, but his arm never left your back. In fact, the more he stirs, the closer you seem to get to him. You decide to take it all in, because you know reality is going to come crashing down eventually. You know Neil is going to back off of you, apologize, and quickly say that he was merely watching over you to make sure you weren’t dying and didn’t mean to fall asleep. There was no way that he meant to hold you like that. 

“Good morning,” Neil said casually, not taking his arm off of you. He manages to pull you even closer still. Now your noses are touching. A playful smile stretches across Neil’s lips. 

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You’re shocked, too shocked to say a thing. 

Your silence makes Neil concerned, “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Are you in pain?”

You smile at him, “No, everything is okay. Of course I’m in pain, but this feels good.” Neil’s smile reappears. But, you’re still confused. “I just need to know something Neil,” You say, as the smile disappears from Neil’s face yet again. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks as he draws letters on your back, or at least that’s what it feels as though he’s doing.  

You shake your head slightly. “Nothing is the matter,” You pause, recalling the events of the previous night. “It’s just, am I okay? How much blood did I loose? And Neil I need to know how you feel about-,” 

Neil abruptly cuts your rambling off, “You’re alright. I took care of you after you passed out. I cleaned out the wound and sowed you up. It was easier to do with you asleep, to be honest. I don’t think you would’ve like it very much,” Neil grins before continuing, “Luckily your heart rate stayed completely stable the whole time.” 

You nod your head, waiting for him to address the half asked question towards the end of your rambling that he seemed to get the understanding of. But, there’s no response. 

You decide it’s time to say something. It can’t wait any longer. “Neil, I need to know what all this means. I need to know how you feel about me.” 

“Likewise,” He returns, but there’s no grin upon his face. He’s serious, if not somber. 

Regardless, you’re annoyed. “Likewise?” You repeat back to him. “I’ve liked you since the second I saw you, and I feel as though I’ve made that abundantly clear. I’ve given you all the signs, all the hints, and you just continue to play these stupid ga-,”

Neil cuts you off, “I had to sit there and watch you almost die. I worked on your wound all night. I’ve been fucking terrified for the past 12 hours wondering whether or not you would make it. I ditched the team to make sure you were safe, and I don’t regret that choice one bit. These aren’t games (Y/N). Being in love with someone isn’t a fucking game.” 

Silence fills the room. Being in love with someone…those words repeated over and over again in your head. You couldn’t let them go. 

Neil catches gaze and holds it. He’s waiting for something from you, but you don’t know how to communicate how you feel anymore. It was like he broke you. 

You know Neil can’t take the tension anymore, and before you can say a word, Neil’s lips hungrily crash into yours. He grabs your waist carefully, keeping you pulled in tight without hurting your wound. 

Neil’s lips leave yours. “Are you happy now?” He asks, brushing where he just was with his thumb. 

“Y-yes,” You say, wanting more. 

“Then it’s settled,” Neil states confidently. He smiles slyly, as he always does.

You’re confused beyond belief. “What is?”

“That you’re mine,” Neil says, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb. He brings your face closer to his, and kisses you again. 

[llemonteaa]

Your daily dose of angst

No one deserves to be second best. That’s something you learnt the hard way.

Pairings: Oikawa x f!reader & Iwaizumi x f!reader 

WC: 1,769

Warnings: swearing, angst (with a little dose of fluff at the end :)  

You always wondered, even to this day, why Oikawa had chosen you in the first place. When asked what his ideal type was, Oikawa would laugh and say, “Someone who makes me look greater than I already am of course,” Cue Iwaizumi smacking him in the head.

“Mean Iwa-Chan! Fine, my ideal type would preferably be someone with fair hair, an adorable smile and a lovely ass to rest my head on. Oh, and she must also love milkbread.”

None of those boxes would be ticked for you unfortunately. Your hair was jet black and curtained part of your face, which only added to your supposedly mean aura. Your resting face was somewhat frightening and your smile could be described as Kageyama’s Cheshire Cat grin. Not to mention your ass was almost as non existent as Oikawa’s (oops), and you much preferred pork buns to milkbread. 

Yet despite that, Oikawa had asked you out one humid Friday afternoon, exactly 7 months ago today. But you realised, maybe a bit too late, that a lot can happen in 7 months.

Oikawa of course, was infamous for having fangirls practically glued to his hip wherever he went. And dating you didn’t change that in the slightest. In fact, his fangirls, especially one in particular, seemed to go up and above their way to spend time with your boyfriend, even when you were inevitably stood by his side. 

“As I was saying-” you began.

“Oikawa! I was just hoping to bump into you!” someone swatted you aside, your vision now platinum curls.

Reni. She practically threw herself onto Oikawa, bending over slightly so that he’s have a clear view of the lace panties underneath her unbelieveably short skirt. 

“Oh hey Reni. What’s up?” Your boyfriend turned to face who you called his number one, entirely devoted, fangirl.

“So, about our History project, would it be too much trouble to ask for some help? I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure it all out, even sacrificing much required beauty sleep, but I’m still yet to make any progress. And seeing how you are quite the History whizz...”

“Of course Reni, you’re the first person who’s complimented me on my brains. When would you like to meet up?” It was almost a joke how YOUR boyfriend seemed to be spending more time with a girl who had nothing but the audacity, than his s/o herself. And History whizz your ass, everyone including Iwaizumi, who had overheard that particular part of the conversation as he passed and scoffed, knew that it would be a miracle if the teacher graded him on History at all. 

“If you could, now would be a great time.” Reni fluttered her eyelashes which reminded you of rather hairy caterpillars. 

“Well I’m not doing anything as of now, apart from talking to y/n, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Right y/n?” Both pairs of eyes seemed to acknowledge you for the first time. You, the girlfriend, but at the same time you the thirdwheel, apparently. 

“Well in fact I do mind but...” you hadn’t even managed to get out before Reni used her large boobs to push you out of the way.

“You see Oikawa, y/n doesn’t mind at all. So come on now, my books are in my dorm.” 

And with that, she grabbed your boyfriend’s arm and dragged him down the hall in the direction of the girl’s dorms, Oikawa throwing a sheepish glance over his shoulder.

“We’ll resume our conversation in a bit y/n~” 

Yeah right. You’d probably forget what you were even talking to him about by the time he came back from the spawn of Satan’s hellhole. 

In the weeks that followed, you found every minute of your time alone with Oikawa accompanied by Reni. No matter where or what you were doing with your boyfriend, she always seemed to find an excuse to but it. And Oikawa was nevertheless, just as oblivious to Reni’s attempts to jump in his pants as he was to your blatant annoyance.

“But y/n you have to understand. Reni hurt her ankle yesterday during her cheerleading practise and being the kind friend I am, I had to help her make her way around school.” Your boyfriend attempted to reason with you, after you had pulled him behind the school gym where he was moments from entering. This was partially because you had desperately needed to confront him about how much time he seemed to be unnecessarily spending with Reni and also in an attempt to prevent the devil herself from seeking you guys, Oikawa specifically, out.

“No, I don’t have to understand. Reni dropped the sprained ankle act the moment she thought my back was turned. God you can be so blind sometimes.” You rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“y/n, now you’re just being unreasonable. You know I only ever spend time with Reni when she’s in need of my help. I’m simply doing what any decent friend would do.”

“Except she needs your help all the goddamn time. You could ask anyone, anyone, and they’ll tell you how Reni’s been crushing on you since way before we got together.”

“Yes, I know that, but she’s stopped liking me since I asked you out. y/n what’s so hard for you to understand?”

“Everything Oikawa, everything is so hard to understand. And yet I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand the most. Reni doesn’t ever need your help, she just wants it. And she wants it to the point where she’s willing to make up any crappy excuse to get alone with you. I’m starting to think you guys are the ones dating and I’m just the ‘friend’.”

“y/n you know that’s not true...”

“Do I know that? Do I? Because if I did, then I wouldn’t constantly need to be fighting for your attention knowing it’s always going to be a losing battle. Your there for Reni more than you’re there for me, and we’re the ones in a relationship. I’m not stopping you from seeing Reni because that would just be wrong on my behalf, but at least put some effort in Oikawa.”

“Put some effort in? Oh you must be fucking kidding me. You should be grateful I even asked you out in the first place instead of telling me to put some effort in. The difference between you and Reni is that she’s not a jealous and clingy bitch who can’t even handle her own partner from seeing his friends without kicking up a fight. I could easily dump you anyday y/n and yet I haven’t, so how about you put some effort in and stop being so fucking controlling.”

It seemed as if everything came to a standstill the moment those venomous words left his mouth. It made your eyes water and your heart clench, every syllable of ‘jealous’, every syllable of  ‘controlling’, stabbed your heart to the point you wondered if you’d ever be able to piece it back together. 

Yet through the darkness a tiny flicker of light fought its way through. And that tiny flicker of light is what reminded you that not a single bit of this stupid argument was your fault. Blinking a few times, you forced yourself to bite back your tears that threatened to tumble, before clenching your fists to the point your knuckles turned white, and glowered up at your soon to be ex boyfriend. 

“I lowered my fucking standards for you Tooru. Lowered my fucking standards to be with someone who only sees me as second best. Who’d rather let some  bitch with a skirt shorter than your hindsight to drag you around like a doll with no brains. All this time I could’ve been with someone who wouldn’t let their ‘friend’ control every minute of their life and completely disregard the fact that they were taken. Well lucky for you Tooru, Reni’s all yours now. She’s won, that bitch with the cockroach eyelashes has won. So now you can get the fuck out of my way because we’re over.” 

And with that you shoved your way past your ex, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your blazer, your hair framing your face now slick with fresh tears. 

It was his loss after all. His loss that he wasn’t able to decipher friendliness from flirtiness. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe Oikawa knew ignoring his relationship status to spend time with someone who was quite blatantly ready to jump into his pants at any given opportunity was wrong. Maybe Oikawa knew he’d have you forever, he’d have you to come back to when everyone else left him for the same reason his last girlfriend did. Except this time he was wrong. He didn’t have you forever. And it was all his fault. 

Deep down he knew you had every right to shove past him, he knew you had every right to be furious with him, yet admitting that would’ve been the last thing he’d do. So instead Oikawa just scoffed before heading in the opposite direction that you had disappeared in, and into the gym. Completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend had just heard the entire event go down. 

2 months later

You giggled as you let your boyfriend Iwaizumi drag you along the school halls. Similar to how you used to watch her do to him. Except in this point in time, you could honestly care less about_ them._ Now you had found yourself a perfect boyfriend who saw you as nothing but the best. He’d see through any girl’s lame attempts to buy themselves alone time with him and would certainly cherish every moment spent together. Hajime knew just how easy it was to let someone slip through your fingers when you took advantage of them just being there, after seeing the exact situation enravel in front of his best friend only a couple months ago. 

“Babe are you even listening to me?” 

God was her voice annoying. 

“Babe.”

Oikawa sighed before finally glancing down at the girl who spent every second possible hanging off him like the school tie he wore. 

“Hm Reni.” He zoned out the moment she began rambling on about God knows what. Probably something to do with how he seemed to have gained more fangirls or whatever. But he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was you. You, who was currently skipping along with his best friend, happier than you’d ever been with him. You who was never like this. Never like Reni who was jealous, clingy and so fucking controlling. 

Oh.

a/n: We all know that both Oikawa and Iwaizumi would be the best boyfriends ever despite Oikawa being a piece of shit in this.😌 

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Hiiii!!! 💫💕🌸🥳

Can I bother with a question... I was (re)watching that zhang qiling edit (not today) - 'cause it's so cool, btw- and I wondered if Reboot Xiaoge’s your favourite one...? And if you're up to answering, what do you think about the other adaptations? Especially (our small bean) xiao yuliang's interpretation of xiaoge?

🤗🌺💐🐰💕

Hey, my precious patootie hehe ILY it always makes me very happy knowing that you rewatch my vids <3

lol dang it, I was kinda hoping to avoid this question, just because I feel like I'd find it hella hard to explain some things, but I'll try my best and hopefully it'll make some sense xD

I'll start from afar bc I wanna try to explain my reasonings, since I don't want to go without arguments into such highly debated question lolz. I talked about this a bit in my previous asks somewhere, but not broadly as to why that one guy hit all the right spots.

So throughout the books Wu Xie always does this wonderful thing, where he very tangibly describes the feeling he gets when Xiaoge is near, I mean like the aura around him. And he always somehow does it so colorful, that this mix of safety, assurance, calmness, composure and some things I can't quite put into one noun, that he brings to him, I think everyone who've read the books can recognize as this almost magical "Xiaoge feeling". It's not just the way he acts in some dangerous situations or smth like that. It's just everything. You either have it or you don't. And here goes my first argument... to me none of them, except for Huang Junjie and Yuliang have it.

I mean it's not even the obvious stuff, it's like the way they move during the action scenes, the way they even stand and hold themselves, the way they touch Wu Xie, the tone of their voices (both of which are like soothing as fuck), little things you'd think wouldn't matter, but when you watch it and all the puzzle pieces are together, you're like... fuck yeah, thats him.

Also not really that weighty of a point, but to me there's always a joy to see that the actor who plays the character not only gets what's he's playing, but also loves it, bc it's always seen on screen. Usually when some asked about the character they play and what they have in common for example they answer with obvious things like if some character is introverted they're like "well I also don't talk very much" or smth like that, you know what I mean. When I was watching interviews of Yuliang and Huang Junjie I was just smiling so much, bc they've said such things that made me go "yeah, Qiling is safe in their hands".

In Reboot case working in such close proximity with the author definitely also played a huge role here. Bc it kinda gets complicated in some aspects since the books are written from Wu Xie's point of view and you can't only base your picture on his perspective, just bc it's coming from a person who after being basically told "you're my whole world" goes "I'm just a person he randomly passes by in his long life" in his thoughts. Not only he's utterly clueless and dumb when it comes to all this, that he wouldn't notice the way Qiling looks at him and other things, its also not that kind of book, that would go "I suddenly caught poker face looking at me like I'm his whole existence" (and I honestly don't want it to be that book lmao). So you have to take into the account here stuff like what author says to get the whole picture, bc if you look at that from the point of Qiling's view for example, this shit takes a whole wild turn. So I really loved that in UN and Reboot ways of showing Qiling's feelings were well thought out and fit the timeline.

Bc it also works both ways, when it comes to other adaptations. Like Qiling is very and I mean ETREMELY hard to win over. We all know that it was a very long process of gaining his trust and even longer for him to fall for Wu Xie to the point of him being his everything. So what I want in those interpretations is for them to get at which point of their relationships what Xiaoge's behavior makes sense. I do not need any fanservice if it ruins the character, I'll just hate it. The thing that their feelings didn't come out of nowhere is what I LOVE about this ship, bc I'm not the kind of person who believes in "we love for nothing" thing and love at first sight thing (only "got hots for each other" at first sight), bc thats bull. Wu Xie became his everything after a long LONG process of getting to know each other. At the beginning tho he was the same stranger to him as everyone else. So what Reboot Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie yet and what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what Lost Tomb's Qiling feels for Wu Xie (which at that point was nothing). And I feel like not everyone gets the fact that you can totally wreck the character if you make him behave not the way he behaved in that particular time. Like for example, if someone would make a MDZS adaptation where at the very beginning of their relationships LZ treats WWX the way he treated him after the reincarnation just because "who cares, it's still LZ", that would be dumb af, see what I mean. So Xiaoge having a weakness for Wu Xie in part one is automatically not a Xiaoge to me, bc a huge part of his character and the thing NPSS speaks a lot about is just how IMPOSSIBLE it is for someone to catch his attention and how long it took Wu Xie to get there. So let's just say to me UN and Reboot Qilings for the first time didn't feel like some mashup or character summary/parody, they were Qilings the way they are supposed to be in that part of the story, bc it was the only times someone actually bothered to coordinate it.

Now as to why I prefer one to another. Xiaoge has this thing... the way he holds himself with other people, that is sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally suppressing.

Like everyone knows that if you're a passerby, Qiling genuinely doesn't fucking care and would in fact be pretty harsh about it in terms of treating people like they do not deserve their attention. He won't be like "please, don't bother me", he simply ignored them like an empty space. He is also like that with acquaintances who in his opinion do not deserve his respect like that girl who went hysterical, bc she was upset that he was the only one who wasn't drooling on her like all other men on the crew, Chen Wenjin, Wu Xie's uncles and etc. He's not openly disrespectful unless they trigger him in some way (usually by trying to act superior or later on for not treating Wu Xie right), but if they do, he will in fact remind them their place in sometimes a very rude way, at times humiliating them in front of ppl bc he looks younger than them and talking starts.

He's always doing things on his own terms and hates being told what to do. Like he legit scared Chen Wenjin just with a look and the tone of his voice when he said "let go", when she tried to command him on the mission and grabbed him trying to lecture him about what he should or shouldn't do. That's why Wu Erbai didn't even try anything like this and let him do whatever he needed to do and equally lead the mission in Reboot. And why the scene where Wu Xie 'commands' "Xiaoge, come back" and he immediately listens holds another special place in my heart. Bc he NEVER and I mean NEVER allows such things to ANYONE.

So here I came to a point of why despite loving them both dearly, my favorite Xiaoge is Huang Junjie.

I have this dissonance with Yuliang's version when to me in many scenes it felt like he and Wu Xie are the same age. Like if he was Xiaoge, but in his 20s. In his interactions with Chen Wenjin the dynamics was turned upside down, with him being okay with her telling him what to do and just in general the way she behaved with him. Same as like I didn't always quite believe him to be on par with older generation or even Pangzi, it just felt like he was truly younger than them. Some scenes that I do find extremely cute just don't fit book Xiaoge at all, I'm talking about some moments like his face when Wu Xie gave him food, or him pouting and many things he's done, when you were going "uwu he's a baby". He just never gives me this feeling in the books ever, not just bc he's 100 years old, but sad fact here.. bc he's simply unable to behave that way. Like in the books you'll desperately want to shower him with love, but he's just... I can't quite explain, it's very sad.

I guess it's just you know these characters, who are like hundreds years old, but look like they're 18? I think you have to be very careful with how you write those, so you could deliver that. And in UN because of some changed dynamics and scenes I straight up forgot about it, until Wu Xie threw some joke like "he's an old man" in front of a restaurant.

In Reboot Xiaoge could make Wu Erbai stutter with one move, put Yuliang's version in the same scene, I just don't think it would've worked. Like I'm trying to imagine him telling UN's Wu Erbai what to do and having troubles already haha. Same as I don't think he's capable to be genuinely mad at Wu Xie, and HJJ nailed it esp in one of my fav when Wu Xie was laughing at Pangzi's joke about him catching cold. The look he gave him and how ZYL just retreated was priceless xD. And boy could Qiling get angry with him in the books!

Otherwise I didn't have any drastic fall outs there, like with Joseph's Wu Xie and Ah Ning's death, because that was just too much of a difference, but there were still moments where it was once again this the same scene completely different emotion thing. He was more tolerable to ppl in general here, more pliable. And 50% of the time he gave me the cute lost kitten type, which I just cannot connect with the feeling he gave me in the books. His personality is a cat type 100%, but like seriously "cute baby" is the last word combination I would ever apply to book Xiaoge, but with Yuliang's version it's easily applied. So small bean he is indeed. With Joseph and in UN it works incredibly perfect to me, but the way he is in UN is at times too gentle. And there are lots of scenes where Joseph himself looked at him in a way "you're too cute, let me pinch your cheeks" kind of way, or the way he like sat down next to him on the coast, he was a bit babying him at times. I can't imagine book pingxie doing that. It's just a whole different vibe, the way he takes care of him, the way he lets him take care of him... it's...uuuuuuuuu another vibe (see, I'm so good at explaining lmao).

It's also kinda funny to me, bc HJJ who's the smallest and who irl truly a kitten never once gave me that feeling on screen for some reason. The one babied and loved by every crew and old ppl, who was cutely hiding behind ZYL's back on set, who won't sue an ex who almost ruined his career bc of how stupid she is, bc he "didn't want to hurt her", who according to staff can't even step on a fly, whom CMH was petting for several minutes after he had to hit him with a prop brick bc he didn't wanna do it lmao. I was just like.. ok, this is hilarious, bc I in fact didn't expect him to be a small bean, so watching all the bts made me go LOOOOL. Probably ZYL acting like a 3 year old helped him transform and the age difference problem got lost lmao

As for other adaptations. You know I can't watch seriously "Lost Tomb", I think some ppl probably have some nostalgic feeling about it, but I'm sorry, to me it's fucking hilarious. Like I've already said it looks like some type of twilight parody thing or smth. Soft damselle Wu Xie esp killed me, bc 1st when he ever was that, 2nd in the first book he's salty af, I don't even know this dude in this interpretation, I was like who's this. YangYang I know him from other things, I really don't think it's his role. I know the script and everything is bad. I know the costume and hair are horrendously funny, but it's just I was watching him in those action scenes and was like no... just I'm sorry but I'm not feeling it. I simply just don't know what to say about the whole thing seriously, bc I don't even know where to start. 10 episodes of some salad finished with one mutilated scene from book 6 for no reason the fact that characters are weird themselves also I can't quite tell, did they really just meet or they imply smth else lmao.. I'm sorry, but I do not get it.

I've given LT2 another try after finishing all the books and I've dropped it half way through, Cheng Yi wasn't even close to how I pictured Xiaoge in any aspect. He in fact didn't do anything OOC or off the book or anything, I just was like "not my Qiling". Happens sometimes.

Explore with the note you already know how I feel about this lol let's just forget.

P.S. To be fair here also maybe we should take into account the fact that some got luckier than other with "at which point" Xiaoge they're playing. Like for example, "Wrath of the Sea" and "Qingling Tree" books which is LT2 is not exactly you can say much about Qiling there, he trolls them there in the beginning (in a brilliant way that was totally lost in the adaptation) and he is there in "Wrath of Sea", but it's not the part that can make his character shine in any way, there's not much things happening there that would make you fall for him or get to know him; Yuliang grabbed the fattest piece bc it's middle several books, when they're always together and his character shines the most in terms of clues about past, opening up to Wu Xie and Pangzi, and there are many many events where you can get the picture of what kind of man he is; Huang Junjie grabbed my fav piece of utter devotion, where he's already fully and wholeheartedly belongs to Wu Xie, that I'm just weak for. So like... there's also that I guess xD.

[syuga-s]

The Last Time

w.c 4.3k

pairing. Jooheon x gn!reader

genre. angst, a little fluff maybe, idk how to classify it but it's my take on relationships in real life(?)

a/n. (warnings) I throw some curses here and there, mention of the word "sex" once, tried to make it as gender-neutral as possible, I could really use some help about t/w, feedback is more than welcome, hope you like the fic 🧍‍♀️

Once again you were at the same bar. With the same friends. Same music. Same drinks. It's safe to say that nothing's changed in here but you.

For some reason, you were awfully quiet tonight. Everyone was away from the table by now. All of them talking and dancing in groups.

You were regretting saying yes to going out the very moment Jasmine was at your front door. But your best friend really wanted to get you out of your house.

The thing is you weren’t going to be alone, all of your friends were tagging along. I guess I need to suck it up, maybe I could have fun, despite him.

And you really tried, there was no need to make a scene anymore. All of your friends have had their fair share of nights seeing you 'talk' with him and making things awkward for everyone. It's been a while, though. You haven't seen him in exactly 2 years.

How do I explain this? There's no resentment anymore, no hate for what happened between you. But when there's a choice between spending your Friday night at the same place as him or staying at home? Well...

But tonight was clearly different. Something (Jasmine) had dragged you here and to be quite honest, it hasn’t been half bad yet. Jasmine kept waiting for you to get up from your chair to come and chat with Jackson and Changkyun. Her all-time crush and his best friend.

"In a sec!! Just let me finish this drink!" You said while you showed her your glass. She quickly nodded and turned to keep talking with those two. You have to remember to thank them later for keeping her entertained because if it weren't for them cracking jokes every single second, she wouldn't have let you off the hook that easily.

Meanwhile, you decided to get a little lost in your head. Laughing to yourself because you were feeling like having a main character moment. Being the only one sat down in a place full of people. The mysterious persona drinking by themselves.

But that didn't last long.

"Mind if I sit here?" You shook your head. He put his drink next to yours and asked, "How are you?" And it somehow felt like you couldn’t have avoided this exact situation.

You released a breath that you didn't even know you were holding. "I'm sitting Jooheon, drinking… existing, you?" He forced himself to smile. Trying to hide the fact that he was still feeling uneasy around you. Nonetheless, showing you the dimples that you used to love so much.

“I can see that”, he paused, "it's been a lot since I last saw you, you look different".

You hummed softly, finally making eye contact with him. "So you expected for me to look the same?" You surely weren't going to pass up the opportunity to be passive-aggressive to him.

It still makes you happy to know that he has never minded this side of you.

"I'm teasing, I guess we both look different, it's been what? Two years?"

"I'm not sure, but it feels like a lot" He took a sip of his drink and started to fidget with the glass. Maybe you're not the only one that's changed after all.

In the two years, you were together, you never saw him like this. But let's remember the fact that you never fully knew him back then. It just feels weird to see him this anxious. Especially with you.

"I've wanted to reach out to you for a while now," You frowned at his words. "Guess I lacked a little courage" He let out an airy laugh. "I really want to talk to you".

Now it was your turn to feel tense. What is this supposed to mean? How long has he been wanting to talk? And talk about what?

You tilted your head and opened your mouth to ask him all this, but he didn't give you the chance to get the words out.

"Before you say something, please believe me I just wanna talk", "but not in here”.

"Alright then, where do you suggest we ‘talk’ Jooheon?” He took his phone out to check the time. 10:44 p.m. He pursed his lips and said, more like hesitating, "I could walk you home?"

You stared off into your group of friends. This was going to make their night interesting. Seeing you two go together again, just like all those times before.

Jooheon's been waiting for this since he saw on your social media that you were leaving the city. And Jasmine took care of letting him know that you would be coming back in about 6 months.

That was a year ago. More than 365 days waiting to be in the same room with you. Praying that you would let him talk to you. Not that you would reject him. But he was scared, he was perfectly aware he messed up everything.

As you were both saying goodbyes to your friends, you started to think about how everything had ended between you two.

You know what? Yes, maybe I was wrong in ghosting him but after all, I don't owe him anything. Just like he threw me out of his life two years ago. We didn't work out, he never communicated with me. He didn't choose me back. I just had to watch him get rid of me, no explanations, no nothing. And I find it really hard to believe that he's been dying to talk to me. What could be so important that he wants to have a proper conversation? How will I explain to him that I stopped replying for no particular reason? That I just realized that we weren't good together, and I had to let go of him? Should I tell him that no matter my hard feelings, I still thought about him constantly?

You had left each other in the cold back then.

He called your name, and you snapped back to reality. Didn't even realize you were already outside of the bar when he softly asked you, "aren't you cold?"

You smirked and told him "Well yeah, walking back home in this weather wasn't in my plans dummy, but I didn't bring a jacket though".

He used to be so attentive to you. One of the other things you used to love about him. Always concerned about you.

He simply put his jacket around you and started walking before you could complain about something as simple as this. Like you always did.

It feels nice to know that someone in this world knows you to this extent. The way you’ll react to simple things. How can you still love someone despite knowing that you don’t work together?

You realized he still has this jacket. It's the same one he gave me the first night we spent together. Why do I have to remember this now? Not fair. Maybe he wore it on purpose.

You gave a little run to catch him. Now that you were by his side, you were getting impatient, "Can you please start talking? I'm intrigued by all your seriousness".

You were kind of hating this feeling. Everything about him felt familiar. Suddenly, you wanted to cling your arm to his but thought twice about it.

He chuckled. "Well it's not super serious, I want us to have a nice conversation, you know?" You snorted at this, what does a nice talk mean?

"I can be nice, as long as you tell me WHAT you wanna talk about…", "come on Jooheon, just get to the point".

"Okay!! OKAY… I-" he took a deep breath and continued, "First of all, I want to apologize to you for everything, then I want us to talk about what happened between us if that's okay with you?"

You'd be lying if you didn't say that you wanted this to happen since you drew apart the first time. You always dreamt of having an adult conversation with him.

But the dream left your mind bit by bit. Just like your heart got itself back together after he left you, piece by piece.

Overwhelmed, you could only stare straight ahead into the street. He called your name again. Now your eyes were on his, and you could see his concerns. How his mind was going miles per hour, just like yours.

"I want to apologize too,” you smiled and finally let yourself link arms with him. “It’s gonna take us a while, isn’t it?”.

The walk to your apartment took around 15 minutes. The words you exchanged with Jooheon were kept to a minimum. You weren’t gonna get into the heavy stuff right there in the street.

When you finally arrived, you gave him back his jacket. It was gonna get uncomfortable to talk with him with a piece of clothing that made you remember too much.

“Want something to drink? I have a beer, wine, you name it”. He sat on your couch while you searched for something non-alcoholic in your little fridge. “A beer would be okay”.

You got yourself some water. Otherwise, your head would be fuzzy, and wouldn’t be able to tell him all you’ve had on your mind for years.

You handed him the bottle, and you took your seat on the carpet. Your mind wandered off to the last time he was in here.

When he told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did. You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’, for you.

You remembered how your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment.

He took a swig of his drink and by the time he put the bottle on your little coffee table, it made you realize he was sitting right there, in front of you.

Finally, gathering the courage to start telling you what was on his mind. “I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to you again”.

I didn’t think so, either. We both fucked up multiple times.

──────────────────────

You were never a couple. After 5 years, you never understood what had lacked between you. The desire was there. Now and then you had your moments of happiness. Usually on the weekends.

When you met, you weren’t looking for love or a serious relationship. At least one of you.

Jooheon was free, like the wind or like a bird. He flew back and forth and once in a while he needed to land somewhere for a while. Every so often he sought another fire, another bed, other arms that weren’t yours.

The time came when he made you feel a million things inside. Overwhelmed with words and emotions, mostly love. But also turmoil and maybe desperation.

It made you happy that he made you feel so much after being empty for months. You felt different with him. It was the kind of love you didn’t know you had in you. Didn’t even think it was possible to express about someone like this. Until him.

You didn’t need anyone else. You just needed Jooheon. Not only that, but you didn’t care for how long your love would last because you believed that the meaning of the word love was what you had built together.

A few hours together. Every so often the whole night.

But when the morning came, the nightmare started to take form. Texts at inappropriate hours, and even unanswered messages.

You started thinking that you didn’t know better. You started feeling insecure. Replaceable. Maybe he knows better than to be with me.

Desperate to know what you had. But afraid that you would ruin everything with the words “What are we?”.

Tried to convince yourself that all of this was okay. That it was a good thing that you were going slow, giving him the chance to open up to you.

Months kept passing and your trust in him was running thin. He made you feel weird on the daily. Wondering if he was seeing someone else. If he danced with someone tonight. Had they kissed? Is he having sex with someone who isn’t me? What if he’s tired of me?

You wanted to be with him, but It was starting to hurt.

I hate that when I try to get myself to think that I don’t like you anymore… you do these little things that make me love you.

When you were together, he treated you like there was no one else for him. His hand was always wrapped up in yours. Talking until dawn, about college, his family, and your relationship. Those times, you couldn’t lie to yourself about your feelings.

He was the only face you could see in the world. The only guy you’ve ever wanted to keep around. But how did we get to this point?

The day you told him you were starting to fall in love with him, all he could reply was, “I don’t know what to say, I never thought you would be in love with me”.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well what do you want me to say? You took me by surprise”.

“You could tell me how you feel. I’m not expecting for you to tell me you love me back, I-“

There’s no return now, you have to keep talking.

“I’m just tired of not knowing what’s in your head, I’m not sure if you want to have something with me anymore, it’s okay if you don’t so, just be honest with me”.

“I like you”. You stayed quiet after hearing this, urging him to tell you more than just three words.

“I mean, of course, I’m attracted to you”.

At that moment, you liked what you heard. But the more you thought about it, you realized that he didn’t actually care for you, or loved you. Maybe that was a greedy thought from you. Maybe you expected too much.

You were angry but mostly angry at yourself.

Why are you still waiting for him? It's been years and nothing has happened between you. Nothing ever will at this point.

You ended up telling him not to bother you again, that if this was his way of ��loving’ you, you were better off without it.

But that was a lie, you longed for your phone to show his name, even if it was at 5 A.M. Still thinking that there was no other way to love someone.

Unable to put an end to it, months kept passing and nothing changed between you. Jooheon had many others, and you only had him.

You loved spending nights like this by his side, watching him sleep, wondering for hours about you two. Unable to explain how you could love him this much.

Maybe he did love you, but you can’t handle this kind of love anymore. It’s better for both of you to end this, whatever it was because it's driving you crazy. And you meant it this time.

Jooheon told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did.

You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’ for you, this was the last time you were gonna let him in. Your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment. Fighting back your tears while softly saying to yourself, “I’m always going to love you…”.

The texts at 5 A.M. came again, but this time there was no answer. Jooheon started calling and sending texts for days, but you didn’t reply. All your efforts in disappearing from him on social media weren’t stopping him.

He met someone else, yet the texts wouldn’t stop. Until one day they did.

Now and then your curiosity would get the best of you and you would see his Instagram stories with her. An older girl you had met once. They were supposed to be friends.

You wanted to avoid comparing yourself to her but, he never posted something with you. It’s a dumb thing to worry about, but it’s one of those things that sometimes matter.

You tried to understand the whole situation. Accept the fact that you two weren’t meant to be. That he didn’t see a future with you.

Your days stopped revolving around him. You focused your time on getting your degree, learning another language, going out with your friends. Even tried meeting new people.

There were a few here and there. No one was enough for you.

Your ideas of love and relationships were different now. You gave another meaning to the word love. You wanted to find someone who would love you and take care of you. A quiet kind of love, real love.

What you had with Jooheon, was something you never wanted to experience again. Days went by, even months until you saw each other once more; for the first time in Jooheon’s life, he felt a knot in his stomach, he knew he lost you, for good this time.

Months passed and Jooheon left his girlfriend. He now felt different because he looked for you in everyone, yet he couldn’t find you, and he felt empty.

He cursed himself a thousand times for not knowing how to appreciate you and the love you gave him for two whole years. Tears finally fell from his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was crying for someone, crying for love, crying for you.

He took his phone out, swallowed hard, and started typing another text.

“I miss you, and I need you with me now and always, I never thought I would say this, but I’m not happy without you. Maybe I should’ve loved you less and loved you better, I just want you to know that I’ll always be waiting for you my sweet y/n…”

But the message was never delivered. You had changed your number.

It made sense that you would do that someday. It’s been too long, but this didn’t stop him from sending you texts in the middle of the night. When he felt the overwhelming need to have his arms wrapped around you.

──────────────────────

I still love you

(9:05 p.m.)

no, I don’t

(9:06 p.m.)

I’m confused why did this happen

(2:26 a.m.)

I want you to be happy, if this is what it takes then I’m okay with it. be happy. for me. please.

(10:45 a.m.)

I kind of hate you for changing your number

(8:57 p.m.)

I’m sorry

(1:43 a.m.)

maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up this wouldn’t have happened

(3:37 a.m.)

why can’t things be like they were before

(10:13 a.m.)

please come back to me. I need you. You need me

(1:58 a.m.)

I still want you

(4:06 a.m.)

──────────────────────

The day you left town was the day he swore to himself to try his best to get another chance to talk to you, just once more. To make things right, not caring anymore about his pride. He just wanted to let you know everything he didn’t say when you were by his side.

That he was sorry that it took him too long to acknowledge he was wrong. That he knew he was a little too late and wishes that he could say something more meaningful than a simple “I want you back”.

──────────────────────

“I wonder why” You smirked at him.

The more you kept making eye contact, the more you realized you didn’t feel any kind of resentment anymore. You both had grown, and while you didn’t actually need this kind of closure, you figured this was the healthiest moment to do so.

His eyes were avoiding you now, his smile was still there, but you could tell he lost a bit of his confidence. “Okay, so I’m gonna talk first, please just hear me out. I want to rip the band-aid,” He said with a forced laugh.

“I don’t know why I could never tell you that love scares me. That it scares me to be attached to someone”. His tone was soft now.

“I still play in my head the day you told me you were falling in love with me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you not to tell me those things because you could have changed your mind any moment”.

“I never told you how I felt one of the many nights you spent with me. You were stroking my hair and I seriously felt like crying because I was fucking scared”.

“I was scared to lose you”.

“I’m sorry because I know I made you think I didn’t want you for something serious. I’m sorry for being immature”.

“I look at you now, and I’m happy to get to see you like this. You’re still everything I’ve ever wished for and more. You need to know that nothing compares to you”.

“And believe me, I don’t expect you to take my words as a way of asking you for another chance, I know I don’t deserve it… but I would really love it if you could let me show you I could love you better this time”.

You never imagined these words coming out of his mouth. Couldn’t believe how he was looking at you. Hopeful but understanding at your loss for words.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” His voice was barely audible, but you nodded at him.

“Well, maybe it’s not an actual question, but I’d like to know why you stopped talking to me”.

“Look Jooheon, I don’t know how everything I wanna say will come out, so please bear with me”.

You didn’t know where to start, either.

There were so many things to be said that you were getting nervous to start talking. Because once you opened your mouth, you didn’t know if you would be able to piece everything together.

“When everything ended I really wanted to hate you, everyone around me hated you,” you admitted to him, “except for me and I hated that”.

“I knew that all I could be able to do was cut you from my life, so I just decided to stop talking to you”.

It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth. “I admit it was a poor way of handling things, and I’m sorry for that”.

You’ve always been scared of having this type of conversation.

You let out a sigh because you never thought that the following words were gonna come out of your mouth, ever.

“I’ve only been in love once in my life, and that was when I was with you”.

“It used to frustrate me that I wasn’t able to make it work with anyone after you. I couldn’t help but compare everyone to you”.

“I swore to myself that I never wanted to go through the same thing we had, maybe because those memories are yours and I don't want anyone else messing that up, you made me feel so safe, I felt alive with you, nothing could stop me when I had you”. 

“You've been the only one I've ever wanted to see every day, no matter the hour or how busy I was, I truly wanted everything with you”.

You hadn’t noticed how he had been looking at you this entire time. He couldn’t believe that you used to feel that way about him. Still couldn’t wrap his head around hearing you say how you loved him.

You quickly wiped a tiny little tear that escaped your eye, hoping we wouldn’t notice. But he did.

You let out a nervous laugh and said, “I’m not sad, I swear, It’s just that I never thought I would say all this out loud, especially to you”.

“You don't know how many times I wanted to call you, run to you”.

“Last year before I left I wanted to see you, I kept trying to convince myself that It didn't have to mean anything, that I was just desperate for any physical touch, but from time to time, I wonder if what I really needed was just you”.

He didn’t say anything. So you just said his name out loud. “Jooheon…” Followed by a long pause.

“I feel so different now”.

“When I was far away from you, I realized that I need someone who isn’t absent when it comes to me, someone that isn’t a ghost in my life”.

While you were talking, you were watching his every move and how he couldn’t stop playing with his rings. You’re still not used to seeing him act like this.

“At this point, I want someone who will take care of me, that makes me feel safe. Someone who wants to be with me because they love me, and they love to have me next to them. I’m beyond only spending the night over, I want whole days”.

You finally got up from the floor and sat next to Jooheon. Facing him, making him do the same. He kept looking at you for a whole minute but it felt like hours.

You didn’t know what to do after his following words.

“What I realized with being away from you is that I was pushing away what I’ve always wanted. I wasn’t confident that I could meet you where you were. I felt it would be better not to waste your time back then, but that was then, and this is now…”

You kept looking at each other a little too long. Both realizing you didn't need words anymore. The love was still there.

[tyraj24]

     "Will you...turn around?"

     Your heart beat inside your rib cage was louder than the surging storm outside. Even with your fear of thunderstorms, the thought of being alone, in the dark, with your crush outnumbered your phobia tenfold. Sure, the two of you were sometimes paired together on missions, but it never got to this point.

     You took the clothing from his hand as you kept your piercing gaze on him. Of course you were hesitant in stripping with him in the same room, but you very clearly did not want to walk to your dorm. 

     You stood from Fushiguro's bed and he turned his body towards the door. Your back faced him, merely inches apart as you removed your clothes. You contemplated if your feelings were mutual with the raven haired male as you removed your jacket. You placed the material on the floor in front of you before removing the rest of your clothes.

     The last thing you took off was your socks before redressing yourself with Fushiguro's dry clothes. When you returned to the bed and sat down beside the damp spot, you took a moment to admire the male's back. His body is in perfect proportions. 

     The way his shoulders looked larger at the low angle, the muscles defined through the thin fabric, his hair slightly disheveled, and his overall posture were the elements that you fell in love with over time. Even under the moonlight, he was stunning. Fushiguro stood unmoving for a moment as you raked your lustful eyes down his body and placed one of yours legs over the other to hide your arousal. It had seemed that your heartbeat steadied with the raging storm beyond the window. 

     "Are you okay?"

     You swallowed hard and began to fiddle with your thumbs. Embarrassment flooded through your cheeks, "Y-yeah."

     He turned around quickly, thinking you were going to break just by the sound of your voice. He stopped himself from moving closer to comfort you as he took sight of his clothes around your figure. They were oversized, but they were comfortable. You breathed in slowly, basking in his scent that lingered as your eyes instinctively closed. 

     The bed had slightly dipped and you opened your E/C eyes to see your crush sitting at the foot of the bed. You had wondered if something had happened to change his mood.

     "What's wrong? Why are you over there?"

     His left leg was bouncing with growing anxiety, but you could barely notice it under the dim lighting. A sudden bolt of lightning lit up the room for a moment and thunder soon followed. Fushiguro was jolted out of his thoughts from the jarring noise. The downpour was slowly letting up. His dark eyes danced along your face before lowering to your covered body. 

     "If I come any closer, I don't know if I can keep my hands off of you," his face flushed.

     You tilted your head, oblivious to his current situation. You leaned towards him with a hand holding you steady against the mattress, "But I need someone to comfort me."

     He completely forgot about your fear the moment he saw you in his clothes. He felt his heart clench and he fell even deeper into it. He wants you. He wants to feel every emotion with you by his side. He wants to feel the warmth you radiate from your heart that pours into the cold, dark world. 

     He wants to worship every part of you. From your genius mind all the way to the way your walls that will clench around his hardened cock. Every single inch.

     Immediately, his mind had been made up for him. You gave him the answer he had been searching for when you gazed into his eyes; the look of pure desire protruding from your E/C orbs. 

     Your entire body was picked up and thrown onto the soft material of the bed. You had merely blinked and you found yourself in such a lewd position. Your legs were propped open with your knees in the air. Your skirt hiked up to your stomach, but you did not notice your panties were showing the male your arousal. Your H/C hair was a mess on the pillow, but you did not give much thought into it. The male hovering over your body in between your legs had your full attention.

     "Tell me, Y/N~" His head dipped to your neck. He kissed your collarbone and traveled up to your ear while sucking along the sensitive skin.

     "Do you know," his voice was barely audible as it was muffled; his hands were now traveling down your curves, "how hard it is for me to hold myself back." 

     You let out a moan when he found your sweet spot. He began to bite at the skin, giving the spot a lick before pulling away and finally pressed his soft lips to yours. The kiss felt magical, perfect even. You have waited so long for this moment, your heart beat currently through the roof. So when he pulled away, you whimpered as you opened your eyes to see his flushed cheeks.

     "Y/N. I can stop if-"

     You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, bucking your hips against his own to find some much needed friction. You pulled away for air and furrowed your brows, "Please, Megumi."

     The way his name fell off your tongue sounded like music to his ears. He immediately kissed you again with more fervor, cupping your left cheek before grinding his hips against yours. You felt his bulge across your clothed cunt and you moaned at the sensation. His hand had found the hem of the oversized shirt you were wearing and began to pull it over your head. He sat up and threw the fabric across the room, his dark eyes raking across your chest. He leaned forward and trapped you in another passionate kiss, slowly pulling your bra straps down your shoulders. You arched your back and let his unclip the fastening. 

     He threw your bra as he sat up once more. A sudden bolt of lightning lit up your naked chest to the male. He was panting as the bright light showed him your perked nipples and the arousal that was seeping down your thighs. He groaned lowly before leaning back down to take your right nipple into his mouth. A moan escaped your bruised lips as his tongue swirled around the sensitive skin. His hand hooked around your other breast, giving the neglected nipple a pinch and rolled it through his fingers.

     "Megumi!" you screeched. Your hands were fitted through his tousled hair and you pulled at the strands. The male moaned and removed himself from your chest with a satisfying pop before giving them a light shake. Your eyes trailed to your breasts still covered in his saliva and back up to his lust filled eyes. He gave a smirk.

     The two of you kept your gaze as he trailed his cold hands down your burning skin. His fingered wrapped themselves around the waistband of your skirt before tearing the fabric from your body. You gasped; not only by the sudden exposure, but also by the fact that your skirt was now in shreds. Fushiguro laid down on his stomach in front of your clothed cunt. He kept his gaze on you as he removed the remaining piece and smiled with victory when you moaned.

     The cold air hit your exposed pussy and Fushiguro licked a strip upwards from your clenching hole, taking in every last drop of your arousal. You bit your lip and bucked your hips against his face. When your clit hit his chin, the sensation made you grind against it. He grabbed your hips and pushed them down into the mattress. You whined in protest.

     "Good girls get my cock. You're being very naughty right now."

     You wanted him more than anything, but the growing pressure inside you needed him most. Your cunt was throbbing with heat. The way he was teasing your body into submission was entirely too intoxicating. He wanted you to beg for him. However, he needed you more, but he was not backing down to fall under your dominance.

     You tried to regain your breathing. Before you could regulate it to some extent, his swiftly pushed two of his fingers into you and began pumping them inside you. You yelped and thus began the influx of your strangled moans filling the room. He showed no mercy for you to become accustomed to him and added another finger. The knot inside you was building rapidly. His fingers curled into your clenching walls, but he did not slow down. Instead, he just pumped faster.

     "Fuck! Please, please, please! Don't fucking stop!" Your head fell back onto the pillow and your eyes fell to the back of your head. A knot was beginning to snap, but right before you fell over the edge, Fushiguro pulled away as quickly as he did when he entered you. 

     You were so, so, so, close.

     "Bad girls don't get to cum."

     You were suddenly on your stomach, your ass sticking in the air as your entire upper body was face down into the mattress. Before you had time to open your mouth, the sound of a zipper rang through your ears and the tip of something hot brushed against your lower lips. Your body jolted forward at the contact and you bit your lip.

     A hand was crawling up your spine and it grabbed a fistful of your hair. Fushiguro pulled your strands and tilted your head so you could look into his dilated blue eyes, "I want you to keep your eyes on me. If you don't, I'll make sure you regret it."

     You could only nod as his cock was pushed slowly into you. A groan had left his lips while a moan had left yours. Your eyes fluttered when he pushed half of him into you, and you were sure he was nearing your cervix. He abruptly pulled his entire self out of your throbbing pussy before he rammed himself into you continually. Your eyes instinctively shut with a loud whimper leaving you.

     "Fuck!" He slapped your ass with too much force. A handprint was immediately left as your skin reddened and your eyes flew open to see the male smirking. His hips were demanding when they snapped into yours. With one particular thrust, he had hit your g-spot and smiled when he had finally found it. He was saving it for the final show.

     The sound of skin slapping and low moans continued over the next few moments as you were becoming closer to your release. You mirrored his movements, jutting your hips to meet his in a desperate attempt for him to finally let you cum. Your eyes never once left his.

     "Megumi, please! Let me cum-I'm c-close!"

     A satisfactory smile danced along Fushiguro's sweaty face, "Then fucking cum."

     The coil snapped completely and euphoria overwhelmed your senses. You screamed his name and you came around his cock, him close to his release. You felt him twitch inside you, and soon after, he quickly pulled out and left you clenching around nothing. 

     Your knees buckled and your entire body went limp. The boy behind you fell on his back beside you as the two of you began to regulate your breathing. Your chest was heaving and you turned your head to face the raven haired male. His face was covered in a layer of sweat. Your eyes trailed down his body and it glistened under the moonlight. 

     You looked past him and out the window to spot the clear sky under the dim light. The stars twinkled as you realized the storm had passed. You closed your eyes as you felt slumber creep upon you. Feeling arms snake around your torso, you snuggled into the male as he draped the blanket over your bodies. 

     Bless your astraphobia.

[frostsinth]

A yummy pinup of Yared, trying to snake his way out of trouble he probably got himself into, and part 1 of 2 is below for the very sweet @justasoftboi who requested a continuation of the story of these two. This was supposed to be flat colors, but those coils just needed a little something extra to show them off. I hope this is what you were looking for! 

@justasoftboi was the first place winner of my Monster Match Raffle! If you are interested in commissioning me for your own monster piece, DM me for details. Check out my MasterList for more monster romances, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there!

All the best!

: PART ONE :

I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I don’t know, Raz... “

She somehow managed to make her eyes even bigger, and clasped her hands before her. Shaking them slightly for emphasis. “Come on, please? I know it sounds a little crazy-”

“It sounds insane.” I admonished her.

“You know how parents are!” She continued, “And mine are the worst! It’s just one night, and then they’ll be gone. Please?”

I groaned, feeling my resolve weakening. “Why me?” I asked, shifting my satchel on my shoulder. “Why not Hassan or Ondre? You know half the guys in this village would jump at the chance to be your boyfriend.”

She threw up her hands. “That’s exactly why I can’t ask any of them,” she replied, letting her hands settle on her hips from their descent, “I don’t want to send any mixed messages. You’re the only one that I know won’t do anything crazy.”

My lips twitched, and I almost laughed at that. “Well, you make a good point there.”

“Please?” She begged again, “I-I’ll take your shifts for a week! I’ll cover for you whenever you ask! I’m desperate, Kyros. I’m literally offering you my soul.”

I sighed again, shifting and considering her. “...Ugh, fine, fine.”

“YES!” She leapt into the air, punching it triumphantly.

“One night!” I told her firmly. “One night. One dinner. That’s it. And you’ll not only cover my shifts, you’ll bake me three dozen of your famous lemon squares.” I could think of one particular person who would particularly love that part of the deal. I almost smiled at the thought of his delight once he got a taste of them.

“Done and done!” She squealed, then lunged at me, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck and hug me tightly. “Kyros, you’re a life saver! I could kiss you!”

I untangled her, laughing lightly. “Let’s not and say we didn’t.” I returned quietly, shaking my head and wondering just what the hell I had gotten myself into.

She echoed my laugh, squeezing my hands in hers. “I’ll pick you up after sundown. Wear something clean, yeah?”

“I know how to meet my partner’s parents,” I scolded her, giving her an overly exaggerated frown which was quickly replaced by a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll kill it. You’ll regret having asked me later, because they won’t stop pestering you about what a great guy I am.”

Her grin was infectious and she patted my cheek fondly. “You’re the best boyfriend ever. I am very lucky.”

“Yeah yeah.” I said, taking her hand away and giving it a gentle squeeze. “See you in a while, Raz.”

“It’s a date!”

I waved her back off across the clearing, waiting until she was nearly out of sight to turn and duck between the trunks and vegetation at the jungle’s edge. My pulse was already thrumming as I made my way deeper into the thick throng of massive trees, my feet following a well worn and familiar path. I knew it would be hard, only having a few hours with Yared before I had to go meet up with Raz. It was hard ever leaving his side, almost torturous to have to do so. I longed for a day that maybe I didn’t have to go back to the tiny village on the riverside. It had only been a few months, yet I already couldn’t stand to be away from the snake longer than I had to be. What had he called himself? A Zmia? I smiled at the memory of late nights exchanging cultural bits and pieces. Those few months prior, the reptilian people of the jungle beyond my village were a silent menace; a distant warning against wandering alone. Though to me they had been more like a legend. Had I gone back in time and told myself I would be falling head over heels for a half man, half snake, I would have laughed myself to death and back. Now though, I couldn’t see him enough. Couldn’t keep my hands off him. Couldn’t imagine my life without him.

 And even when I was forced away from his company, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. More than once I had zoned out at work, nearly losing a hand in the process. I was already in hot water with my boss, having skirted so many jobs just to spend more time with him. I almost winced at the memory of his ire.

I remembered my first job at the river side logger, back when I had first moved here nearly a year ago. A new life. A fresh start. Far away from my own judgmental and bossy parents. I had scoffed at the warnings of the locals, and decided a stroll through the beautiful lush jungle was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of fresh calluses and sore muscles. How it quickly became my routine to take off into the deep vegetation whenever I got a moment to myself. Away from prying eyes and unspoken questions. After all, by most standards I was a handsome, hardworking, and available young man who, as of yet, had shown no interest in the local beauties. I meant to keep to myself, but the desire to just be alone made me an enigma to the locals. Many of whom had never left the riverside village. To them, I was the exotic. Even though the village itself was only a few generations old.

Raz had been my first friend, and so far remained my only. I suspected she had her own reasons, but she had never shown any remote interest in me. Had never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable, or put me on the spot regarding my preference in partners. And she had kept my secret faithfully when I had eventually opened up to her one drunken night. Not that it was outright forbidden or taboo; I just honestly didn’t feel like it was anyone’s business. Nor did I want to be some hot piece of gossip in a sparingly un-diverse town. So it was the least I could do to help her out of her own tricky situation. Though hopefully my situation would be only temporary.

When I had met Yared… life had become instantly better. He had slithered into my life so nonchalantly, and now I had everything I ever wanted. Well, almost everything. It would be nice not to have to leave him every few hours to maintain my presence in the town. The villagers were still deeply suspicious of their reptilian neighbors, and both parties preferred to keep to themselves. Which left little more than whispers of rumored sightings between the two. I grinned, thinking that maybe Yared and I might pave a whole new path for our two worlds. It was weird to think we might be setting a standard for future relations between our people. Assuming I could get through tonight, that was. I didn’t imagine the Zmia would be too pleased that I wouldn’t be able to spend that long with him. Especially after his promises from the morning. He could be a little selfish at times, though I wondered how much of that was a product of his culture. His people didn’t tend to live in villages or communities, so a life of solitude might certainly warrant a sense of one’s own self interests being the most important. I wondered if that was also a reflection of why he treated me how he did. I found I loved how clingy he was, how much he relished my time and company. How he lived for my attention and praise. I almost chuckled. No, he certainly wouldn’t be content with such a short visit.

But it would be worth it, I reasoned. Because with Raz covering my shifts for the next week or two, maybe I could spend the night with him. Or maybe a few nights… My stomach skittered with excitement at the thought, and I felt a flush at my collar.

I heard his coils moving along the forest floor before I saw him, and a grin was already lighting my face as I turned to greet him. Briefly I wondered what he was doing so far from his cave, but was just so happy to be able to see him again, I hardly cared. 

His long black tail was woven amid the tree he had just slithered out of, and again I marveled at him. Rose grey skin, raven black hair, scarlet red eyes. I loved the way his cream scales crept up his stomach from his serpent lower half, reaching all the way to the underside of his chin. He lowered himself to my level as I stepped over, and I trailed my fingers fondly over that soft underbelly of his. The scales were cool to the touch, as was his skin as I traced my hand over his abdomen along his ribs to rest my palm at his waist.

Slowly he slithered in a circle around me, and I pivoted in place as his long tail writhed, curling about us. I smiled again, feeling my skin zip with electricity. But when I looked up to meet his gaze, there was a slight frown on his thin lips. Not overly surprising in and of itself; Yared had a demeanor as cold as his temperature sometimes. Yet this time, I didn’t like the way those lips pinched together slightly at the center.

“You ok?” I asked, my voice laced with concern.

He titled his head to the side, distractedly tracing his fingertips lightly down my arm. Usually he would have completely enveloped me in his embrace by now, eager to steal my warmth. I found a frown forming on my own lips.

“...What is a ‘boyfriend’?” He asked, his voice a little tight.

I was surprised at the question and felt my heart skip a few beats. “Ah… that’s..” A flush rose to my cheeks, and I rubbed at the back of my neck. “When you’re courting someone, they are your boyfriend… or girlfriend, if they are a girl.” I considered him from the corner of my eye. “Where did you-”

“And a ‘date’?”

A tickle of realization hit me, spreading across my face. “Were you watching me?”

His frown deepened into a scowl. “What is a ‘date’?” He pressed.

“It’s… like… the time spent with the person you're courting. Like, if you go out to eat, or do some sort of activity together.” I struggled to find the right words, hoping my explanation would make sense.

“Why?”

“What?”

He scowled more, and I felt his tail curling tighter around us. “Why have these things?”

I sighed, a little confused and exasperated. Though not overly put off by his blunt manners as they were rather commonplace. “Well, to get to know each other. To see if the two of you could be life time partners.”

“To see if you would be compatible as mates.” He offered coldly.

“Exactly!” I smiled up at him, reaching out with my free hand to run it over his tail. It was more like a dark chocolate brown, I decided, not black. I could see the color more vividly here in the sunlight that broke through the canopy of emerald leaves overhead.

“Do humans have multiple mates?”

I looked up at him, surprised. His scaly brow was knotted over his long slender nose, and his fangs flashed as his tongue darted out into the afternoon air.

“I suppose some do-”

“Zmia do not.” He hissed.

I realized then he was angry, his sharp pupils thin, his posture tense. His tongue flicked back out, and he bared his fangs at me again.

“Yared-”

“Perhaps I should have mentioned before.” He cut me off before I could say more. “But I didn’t think I needed to.” His eyes narrowed. “I do not want to share you with anyone else. If you already have partners, I don’t think we should continue.”

A deadened feeling wrapped around my core, leaving me with a sinking feeling and a cold spot at the base of my neck. My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. He scowled back at me, seemingly unperturbed by my shock. My hand dropped away from him.

“You… I-I mean…” I shook my head, swallowing the painful lump that strangled my throat. “... If that’s what you want… did-” I caught myself, biting my tongue. But I decided I had to know. “Did I do something wrong?”

His ears twitched, and I saw the tip of his tail flick. “Perhaps not by human standards. It was unfair of me to assume you wished to be exclusive as my mate-” He seemed to choke on the word, stopping sharply. I saw him adjust his jaw before continuing. “If you already have that female-”

“What female?” I cut him off sharply, suddenly remembering what he had said early. “Wait, Yared, are you talking about Raz? Were you watching us earlier? Is that what this is about?”

He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “She seems fond of you.” He replied bitterly.

I shook my head incredulously. “Raz is just a friend!” I tried to tell him. “We’re not-”

“She called you her ‘boyfriend’.” He shot back. “You are having this ‘date’ you explained. Why else if not testing her as a potential mate?”

I threw up my hands, shaking my head again. “That’s not- She’s just asking me to do her a favor!” I reached up, trying to touch his face. He jerked away, and I felt a stabbing pain in my gut at the rejection. “We’re just pretending, because she told her parents she was seeing someone.”

“You are helping her deceive her parents?” His thunderstruck brow deepened, “That seems unreasonable. Why perpetrate this lie? Why must she have a mate?”

“I don’t know! I guess her parents have been pressuring her, so she just told them that to get them to leave her alone.” I resisted the urge to reach out to him again, taking a step back instead.

“She said she would kiss you.” He hissed, and his red eyes narrowed. “She squeezed you with her body. She must like you.”

I felt my own anger beginning to bubble in my stomach, a stinging wave of backlash from the anguish he had caused. I scowled right back at him, crossing my arms over my own chest.

“She’s just happy she doesn’t have to fess up to her parents. Raz is just a friend, Yared. Nothing more!”

He bared his fangs at me, and his whole long body inflated slightly with his hiss. “She didn’t look like that.”

“Even if she was interested in me - Which she’s not, by the way! - I’m not interested in her. Not even remotely,” I snapped, “And you should trust me enough to believe me when I say that.” I threw up my hands again. “And you should trust me enough to ask me before you start throwing around accusations-”

“Hardly an accusation if I saw it with my own eyes-”

“You saw me agree to do a friend a favor,” I snarled, “You assumed it was something worse. You didn’t even ASK me! Just jumped to conclusions!”

That seemed to silence him, if momentarily, and he stared at me with his scarlet red eyes. I shook my head a final time, spinning and clambering angrily over his long tail. As my feet found solid purchase again, free from his coils, I pulled my satchel around and started digging through it.

“...You are not interested in being her mate?” He asked, his voice still icy but softer.

“No!” I practically yelled, spinning to face him again. “There’s only one person I’m interested in being my “mate”, and he’s being an absolute ass right now.” I yanked the bakery parchment from my sack, tossing it at him. “HERE! Take your damn treats, you big, dumb snake!” Now I was shouting, and he barely caught the parcel I hurled at his chest with surprising force. “I hope you like them. Sorry for thinking of you every minute of every day. Sorry for just trying to buy a way to spend more time with you.” I clenched my jaw, swallowing back tears. “I hope you enjoy yourself as much as you look like you do, because you’ll have none of me!”

With that, I spun on my heel and stomped out of the woods. I didn’t look back. Couldn’t bear to. The sting of his words and mine still ringing in my ears. My hopes dashed on the jungle carpet... But I still had a date to prepare for.

...

UPDATE: Final part HERE

[airesgay]

Feelings 101

Chapter 16: the one with a merry christmas 

Relationship: Jennifer jareau/emily prentiss

Summary: the friends au where they all work at NYU, and Emily and JJ find themselves reconnecting after 17 years. There are also mixtapes.

Chapter summary: Unexpected events out of their control leave the gang unable to get home for Christmas. As always, they make the best of it.

chapter word count: 7,857

songs:

Rockin' around the christmas tree - Brenda Lee All I want for christmas is you - Mariah Carey Merry Christmas Everybody - Slade Fairy Tale of New York - The Pogues

read it on ao3

It was gone. She couldn’t find it anywhere, not on her dresser or caught up in clothes, or hanging from her bedside lamp. Her – Roz’s necklace - was gone.

These were the racing thoughts that met JJ the morning after what had been a near perfect day. She hadn’t noticed it missing last night. It must have gotten tangled in her scarf at some point when she was adjusting it, or maybe it was when her and Emily found themselves collapsing onto each other on the ice-rink.

Emily. She was currently rolling over beside her, grumbling at the hasty movements. But JJ couldn’t stay still; she was in a panic as she rummaged under her pillow and the covers and down the back of the bed. She knew it was more likely she’d lost it last night when they were out, but finding it in her bedroom would be much more convenient; she couldn’t help but check.

“JJ, what - ”

JJ sighed and put a halt to her frenzied search. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Emily blinked, trying to wake herself up. “It’s okay, it’s probably time I got up anyway.”

“It’s 6.30,” JJ supplied.

Emily paused. “Well that’s a bitearly.” She rubbed her eyes but straightened herself up. “It’s a bit early for a run too I’d have thought?”

JJ gave her a sweet smile, still trying to calm herself down. Emily helped. “Yeah. I… uh, I lost my necklace.” Just saying it made her stomach turn.

Emily frowned, and JJ nearly laughed at the way she automatically looked around, as if it would just be laying there in plain sight. “Do you think you lost it last night?” She seemed to be more alert now.

JJ nodded and slumped back against the headboard. “It’s looking that way.”

Emily gave one slow nod, considering something. Then she swiftly threw her legs over the side of the bed. JJ blinked. “What are you doing?”

Emily shrugged, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to find your necklace.”

JJ felt her heart swell as she watched Emily pick out clean clothes from her space in JJ’s wardrobe. She allowed herself a laugh when she tripped over on her way out, clearly still groggy.

They decided to wake Penelope, knowing her irritation at being woken before 7am on winter break would be overshadowed by her irritation at being excluding from another ‘secret outing’ as she called them. She grumbled at first, begrudgingly tearing off her pink eye mask that she slept with. But as soon as JJ told her that her necklace was lost she all but leaped out of bed, seeking out the first pair of shoes she could find. She insisted they enlist Derek and Spencer’s help – better chance with more numbers – and of course they didn’t hesitate. Again, JJ’s heart swelled; she couldn’t be more thankful to have these people in her life.

And yet, despite their eagerness to help, their search for fruitless. It would have been a mammoth task anyway, scouring the streets of New York for one little heart shaped necklace. But the near snowstorm they were caught in really didn’t help matters. They’d all been in such a rush to leave too, that none of them were appropriately dressed. Spencer’s hair in particular looked like a snowy bird’s nest. They were all so desperate to help, that JJ was the one who had to call it. As heartbroken as the thought of never finding the necklace was, she couldn’t let her friends’ fingers fall off in the quest for it.

As she led them back inside, trudging up the stairs and blowing on their freezing hands, she let herself be comforted by the fact that they did have to be dragged out of a blizzard to give up their search - all for JJ. She was even more overwhelmed by the fact that Emily had done the same, not knowing the real reason why. For all she knew, JJ was just really upset at losing a pretty necklace. But she hadn’t questioned her a second or called it stupid. She didn’t need an explanation to help JJ.

She made them all some hot drinks before they passed out in the lounge.

* * *

JJ was really upset at losing her necklace. Emily would admit, she wasn’t a jewelry expert, she hadn’t seen anything obviously special about the heart shaped pendant – but it was special to JJ, that much was clear. And she wasn’t about to question why.

After their first search that morning failed, they kept on trying, retracing their steps the following days around the market and the ice-rink. But every day they came home empty handed. It also didn’t help that the gods seemed to be against them. Each day more and more snow fell, to the point where on the fourth day, Emily feared they’d be blown away in a gust of white – even Derek, who faced the storm like it was an obnoxious football opponent.

But that’s what it was – a storm. And it didn’t let up. Usually with weather like that, you’d laugh and joke, saying it would pass in a day or two. But this was one of those times when it just didn’t. None of them should have been surprised when an amber warning was sent out. Which meant the highest safety measures, insistence by news reporters to stay indoors, and all outgoing flights cancelled. This was announced the day before JJ and the others were set to fly back home. Yeah, the universe liked a joke alright.  

They ended up congregated in the lounge of JJ and Penelope’s apartment, as they always did. Tara was coming by later with Kayla.

The 18 year old insisted that she was capable of making the journey herself, but Derek wasn’t having it. Taxicabs were still running, people were still braving it outside, but it was pretty much a ‘go at your own peril’ kind of situation. Derek was lucky Kayla actually liked Tara, or she would have thrown a strop and refused to come at all. Most of her classmates had already made the journey home, her roommate just the day before. Only a handful of unfortunate students found themselves stranded on campus, the few support staff also left doing their best to raise their spirits with a makeshift Christmas celebration in their common room. Kayla found the prospect too depressing to bear, and was thankful she at least had family still in the city to spend the day with.

Emily was sat at the kitchen table on her laptop, cancelling her booking for a low budget hotel (it had been the only one previously available), when Tara came tumbling into the apartment, Kayla in tow. Two duffle bags fell at their feet. Both looked liked they’d been through the wars, shivering and shaking snow from their hair and brushing it off their coats.

“I made it in one piece, are you happy?” Kayla called over.

“Ecstatic,” Derek replied, getting up from his place on his seat to join them. Clooney followed, who’d been sleeping at his feet. Kayla had to hold onto Tara’s arm to stop from toppling over as he jumped up to greet her.

“Hey, Cloone,” she cooed, clearly happy to see him, if still annoyed with her uncle.

Penelope wasn’t far behind. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” she announced, still clinging onto her festive spirit.

To her credit, both Kayla and Tara managed a smile and returned the sentiment. Penelope then helped them peel their coats off and offered them a warm towel. Yeah, it really was that bad.

“Nice,” Tara commented as she walked forward, clocking the digital fire they had flickering on the TV screen. The heating in the apartment was on blast too to help maintain the illusion.

“I wish we had a real fireplace,” Penelope pouted.

“Not with Emily around,” Derek jested. Emily gave him the finger, not bothering to look up from her screen.

Tara and Kayla were ushered to the hot spot next to the radiator, while JJ got up to brew some more tea. Sergio grumbled as she lifted him up off her lap, repositioning him next to Spencer. He’d spent nearly all day curled up in her lap. Spencer softly ran his hand down his spine, which most cats would welcome, but Sergio continued to complain; JJ was his favourite, and no substitute would do. Well, Penelope liked to think she would, which was certainly up for debate.

After a couple of weeks of living together, Emily had determined the pecking order according to Sergio to be: Sergio, JJ, Emily and Penelope tied, Spencer, and Derek. Of course, Spencer and Derek’s place firmly at the bottom could be influenced by the fact that they’re the ones that bring that hairy muttround. The fact that Clooney was hypoallergenic and didn’t shed or smell much didn’t seem to appease Sergio; clearly he could smell him just enough. Whenever they brought him round, they elected to keep as much distance between them as possible, not matter how eager Clooney was to say hello. Even Sergio swiping him across the nose didn’t seem to deter him; perhaps he thought it was a game.

“Hotch and Haley are lucky they left early,” Penelope said, returning to her place on the couch. Sergio leaped up onto her lap to her delight, sending daggers at Clooney who’d laid down at Kayla’s feet.

“Or we left it too late,” Derek mused.

“Did Matt and Kristy get off okay?” Tara asked, settling herself in front of the radiator.

Derek laughed. “Yeah, left yesterday morning. Made it by the skin of their teeth.”

Tara nodded, leaning further into the soothing heat behind her. “Luke left yesterday too.”

“Am I just to be spending all future holidays stuck with you then?” Kayla said from next to Tara, wrapping her arms around herself.

Derek put a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “Your words, they wound me. Just be glad you’re stuck with your favourite uncle.”

Kayla snorted, which had Derek taking on a more serious tone. He pointed a finger at her. “Don’t even joke about that.”

JJ gently handed a mug of steaming tea to Kayla, while Spencer called over. “We got the couch set up for you. All the coziest blankets I could find.”

Kayla smiled, carefully taking the mug in her hands. “Thanks Spencer.”

“And you, my lucky lady,” Penelope announced, as JJ handed Tara her own mug, “Will have the pleasure of sharing my bed.”

Tara laughed. “That’s very kind, I don’t mind taking the couch though.”

Emily shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t want to sleep on that for more than a night, believe me.”

Tara raised a brow. “Well okay then.” She then proceeded to blow on the tea to cool it down.

It had been decided that Kayla and Tara would stay with them until Christmas, when hopefully the storm would have passed. It made more sense than them trekking back and forth over the next two days, battling the elements. Penelope in particular was worried they’d get blown away.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Penelope started, and Emily sensed a heartfelt moment coming. She shut the lid of her laptop. All the others were gathered in the longue, JJ taking a seat next to Penelope while Tara and Kayla still clung to the heat of the radiator.

“But can I just say,” Penelope continued, “That if I had to be stuck with anyone in a blizzard, I’m glad it’s you.”

She raised her mug of tea, and the others followed, all giving a hearty cheer. Emily caught JJ’s eye across the room, and they both smiled.

“So let’s make this a Christmas to remember!” Penelope finished with one last jovial cheer.

And make it a Christmas to remember, she did. Penelope had crammed so many festive activities into the next 48 hours, Emily was sure it had to be some kind of record.

The apartment already looked like Santa’s grotto, Penelope having started the decorating as soon as JJ and Emily deemed it a suitable time. The way she’d whipped out the box of decorations almost immediately, they were sure she’d had it waiting under her bed for the past month.

Still, despite already having their Christmas tree up, they hadn’t had the time to decorate it properly – and Penelope did not half-ass something as important as decorating the Christmas tree. So it was decided that was the task for the rest of the evening.

How many people does it take to decorate a Christmas tree you may ask? Apparently 6 people trying their best and one Penelope Garcia redoing all their hard work. It was comical, the way Derek would place a bauble in what looked like a perfectly good position to Emily, only to be swatted out the way and ‘fixed’ by the tech analyst. In the end, each decoration had been placed or replaced by Penelope, but Emily had to admit, it looked amazing.

The only Christmas trees she’d had growing up had been huge monstrosities hauled in by her mother’s staff. And then decorated by the same exhausted men and women. Emily vaguely remembered when she was 6 or 7, asking if she could hang a decoration she’d made at school – but her reply was no more than a raised eyebrow and a turned back. The only Christmas trees she’d had had been awash in gold and silver, the epitome of sophistication and class. A flimsy piece of paper with a terribly drawn reindeer on it wouldn’t have exactly fit. Penelope’s tree was just about the most mismatched thing she’d seen – like she’d found each decoration from a different flea market. Emily thought it was perfect. Once it was finished, Penelope insisted they ‘christen’ it with a dance around it, which was ridiculous, but Emily couldn’t find it in her to resist. She couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of her mother’s face if she could see her now.

Emily kept waiting for that claustrophobic feeling of being trapped inside with the same people, unable to get out, but it never came. Christmas Eve Eve blended into Christmas Eve, which was to start with the construction of a gingerbread house. Penelope of course had had all the ingredients ready for weeks. It was safe to say everyone was surprised when Emily proved the best at putting the thing together.

“You have a steady hand,” JJ observed as Emily set the roof of their gingerbread house down without a hitch.

A smile tugged at Emily’s lips. She hadn’t been able to assist with the baking, but at least she could do this. “I guess so.”

“Must be why you’re so good at piano too.”

Penelope rested her head on her arms across the kitchen table. “Yeah she’s good with her hands alright.”

Emily faltered, nearly sending the whole construction tumbling. JJ sent Penelope a glare, but she just smirked.

“Nat would be good at this.” Kayla was sat on one of the chairs beside them, contently observing.

Penelope frowned. “Nat?” She didn’t like being out the loop, especially with Kayla.

Kayla had a small smile, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s the girl that helped be out on Halloween.”

Recognition graced Penelope’s face and she grinned. “Oh Batgirl!”

“Well,Batwoman, but yes.”

Penelope nodded, slowly, recalling the memory. She threw her head over her shoulder quickly to check Derek was out of earshot. He and Tara were busy playing, and failing at Trivial Pursuit against Spencer, who’d elected to be on a team on his own. Derek and Tara would have beaten anyone else easily. Penelope swiftly returned her attention back to Kayla.

“So you’ve been hanging out then?”

Kayla nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she’s an art student.”

“I remember.”

Kayla smiled. “Her drawings are amazing, she’s one of those people who can draw a perfect circle. She’d be good at this.”

Penelope smiled. She was happy she’d found a good friend.

“So, Emily does that mean you’re an amazing artist too?” Penelope asked.

Emily snorted, which almost sent the house toppling again.

They spent that evening watching Christmas films – which was preceded by a length and heated debate. Derek had pleaded his case that Die Hardwas a Christmas film (quite convincingly actually, which was a testament to him studying law at Northwestern before deciding on social work), but he was ultimately shut down.  

One of the few Christmas films Emily could say she really liked was Gremlins, but as the others pointed out, it was because it overlapped with the horror genre. She couldn’t disagree. Still, it was allowed, much to Derek’s disgust. JJ’s pick was Home Alone, which Emily had to admit, she also liked. That kid sure had some skills. They ended the night with Elf,which of course was a Penelope favourite. By the end of the film, Emily was seriously wondering if she too was sent from the North Pole to spread Christmas cheer.

Emily didn’t think she’d ever felt so cozy, snuggled underneath a weighted blanket on the couch, Penelope in her usual spot in the middle and JJ on the other side, Sergio sleeping soundly in her lap. Spencer and Tara were curled up in the two armchairs, while Derek and Kayla (who kept being berated for texting throughout) were both happy to lie on the rug with Clooney. He was sprawled out, legs in the air, and clearly the embodiment of relaxed. The snowstorm continued to rage outside, but they were tucked away in here; lights turned down so only a soft orange glow from a reading lamp encompassed the room. It was met with the sound of laughter, and clinking mugs of steaming hot drinks. It felt warm, and cozy, and safe.

Still, Emily could sense JJ was not quite right. Even with Penelope between them she could feel the tension emanating from her. She had a smile on her face, and she laughed when she was meant to laugh, and looked heartfelt when she was meant to look heartfelt. But even though her eyes were on the TV, Emily could feel her attention elsewhere. She noticed how her hand kept drifting up to her bare neck.

This hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the group either, who she’d noticed checking up on her more than usual: a hand on her arm by Derek, a squeeze of her hand by Penelope, a look of understanding by Tara, even Spencer, who just seemed to hover more, like he was making sure she knew he was there for her. There was something unsaid in their actions, and Emily wasn’t going to pry. She just hoped JJ knew that, whatever it was, she was there for her too.

* * *

Bells. Jingle-bells- was the sound JJ was awoken by on Christmas morning. She blinked, letting the soft jingles become clearer, as her vision also sharpened. She must have rolled over in her sleep – as she usually did – and was facing the middle of the bed. She was met with Emily’s soft brown eyes, perfectly clear and staring back at her. A smile crept on her face.

“Merry Christmas, JJ.”

JJ felt an even bigger smile stretch across her face. “Merry Christmas, Emily.”

It struck her then that this was the first morning they’d both awoken at the same time, or rather, awoken with the other still beside them, staring back at them. JJ couldn’t know if Emily had woken earlier with JJ’s arms wrapped around her, and discretely removed them, but she was happy to have this moment. They lay there for a few more quiet moments, the eye contact not awkward but peaceful, and comforting. Like JJ was meant to just lay there forever, staring into Emily’s eyes.

“Merry Christmas!!!”

Penelope. They both broke out into laughter, and rolled away from each other to land their feet on the floor. Sergio hopped off with a grumble from his place at the bottom of the bed.

Since that first awkward morning Penelope had been decent enough to not barge into JJ’s room – much to her surprise, but also delight. Still, they couldn’t expect Penelope to contain herself for long on Christmas morning. Emily held the door open for JJ, and she smiled her thanks before stepping out. They were met with the sight of Penelope dancing around the longue, literal jingle bells in hand. She’d also turned on some music, All I Want for Christmas Is Youblasting from the stereo.

“So reindeer haven’t landed on our roof?” JJ asked with a smile.

Penelope twirled around and a massive grin broke out across her face. “Merry Christmas my lovelies!”

Both women were scooped up into a crushing hug at once.

“You’re up early,” Emily remarked when she was let go. The clock on the wall indicated it wasn’t yet 8am.

“Pen gets up early precisely one day a year, you’re lucky to be witnessing it,” JJ laughed.

Emily frowned for a moment. “Aren’t you usually both with your families?”

JJ laughed. “Oh yes, but Pen always makes sure to call me at the crack of dawn to wish me a Merry Christmas.”

“Ah.”

Penelope didn’t even spare her a scowl; she was too happy. “I’m going to wake up the others,” she declared, all but racing out the apartment.

Emily frowned again. “Where’s Tara?”

But she was already out the door. JJ shrugged and they both approached Penelope’s room. JJ creaked the door open, to find Tara laying face down on the bed, pillow over her head.

“Is she gone?” she muffled into the bed.

JJ laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, but you’ve got about 10 seconds before she’s back with the others. Up and at em Lewis!”

Another groan, as Tara rolled over to face them. “This is like a military operation.”

“Affirmative.”

* * *

If Tara’s groggy state had been bad, then Kayla was a full on zombie.

“I need more coffee,” she groaned, reaching for the pot haphazardly, coordination questionable.

“We need to do presents!” Penelope announced, bouncing on her feet.

If they didn’t know any better, they’d have thought she’d drank all the coffee in the apartment, but this was just Penelope on Christmas morning. She was like a little kid. They also didn’t miss the irony of her singing the words ‘I don’t care about the presents,’ only moments before.

As if on cue, Kayla’s phone rang. She nearly dropped the mug she’d just picked up in surprise. Sighing, she flipped it open and brought it to her ear – only to yank it back immediately at the noise. Even the others could hear the joyful shouts of ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS!’

Kayla rolled her eyes. ‘Mum’ she mouthed to the others, followed by ‘and grandma,’ and ‘aunt Desiree,’ but she couldn’t hide her smile.

Derek chuckled and gave Penelope a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry babygirl, presents are gonna have to wait. Nobody puts the Morgan women on hold.

She pretended to huff in return, but a second later was animatedly requesting to speak to them too. After that it was like a domino effect, everyone’s phones going off one by one – all but Emily’s. JJ frowned as she watched her taking a seat on one of the arm chairs, while the others took their calls, Sergio leaping up into her lap. She stroked along his fur gently, seemingly content. JJ’s attention was yanked back to her mother, as her voice got louder over the phone.

“Jennifer, hello, are you still there?”

JJ sighed. “Yes, mum.”

“Well that’s no way to greet your mother on Christmas morning. Especially when you couldn’t even make it down - ”

JJ had to hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry mum, did you think Icaused this blizzard?”

There was silence on the other end; JJ could almost see her pursed lips.

“Well, never mind, how is everyone?” Always keeping things cheery, her mother.

JJ willed herself to relax, making her way over to her room. She caught Emily’s eye on the way, who gave her a quiet smile. She almost bit her cheek to hold her response back; like her mum would be able to hearher smile over the phone.

“Everyone is great, considering.” She sat down on the end of her bed. “You know Pen, always makes the best of things.”

Her mum started gushing at the mention of the tech genius. “Oh, that sweet girl, I would love to hear from her.”

JJ laughed lightly. “She’s talking to her brother on Skype right now, maybe later.”

“Sky???” her mother inquired.

JJ laughed again. “No, Skype. It’s a video call thing.”

A clear shake of the head. “Oh, you do know how to make me feel old.”

“Believe me, Penelope does the same to us. And we’re the same age.”

Her mum made a humming noise before speaking again. “And how is that new friend of yours?”

JJ’s heart skipped at the mention of Emily. She hadn’t spoken to her mum since Thanksgiving – not from a lack of trying from her mum, but she’d gotten good at dodging calls. She felt guilty about that now, when she found conversation flowing better than she expected. It was always the case, but still she had the same daunting feeling every time she picked up the phone. The ironic thing was that guilt was the culprit; it was a hard cycle to break.

“Emily is good. Well, her apartment did burn down.”

A gasp. JJ smiled, and settled further into the bed as her mum asked for all the details. She found it easy to talk about Emily.

* * *

Sergio was purring gently as Emily continued to stroke along his fur. Everyone was taking calls from their families: Derek and Kayla to Derek’s two sisters and mum back home in Chicago, Spencer to his mum at the clinic, Tara to her parents in New Hampshire, Penelope on some high tech video chat to her brother in San Francisco, and JJ to her mum back in Pennsylvania, who’d retreated to her room.

She couldn’t feel upset; it wasn’t like she wanted a call from her own mother. Just the mere thought of her phone ringing made her shudder. She passed the time with Sergio and a book that she’d left lying around a few days ago. It seemed too soon, when Penelope was yanking the book out of her hands, Sergio darting away with it.

“Present time!”

Emily smiled, and let herself be lead towards the tree. They’d laid out their presents the night before: seven boxes of varying sizes wrapped with equally varying quality. She was sure they’d be able to tell which one she’d wrapped; it hadn’t taken long for her to get the reputation as the handless one in the group – which was true with more domestic tasks like cooking and wrapping presents. Still, she was lucky she only had a tiny box to wrap; she hadn’t had the opportunity to do toomuch damage.

Christmas music played as they all sat around the tree, cross-legged, and still in their pyjamas. She felt like a toddler, but there was something comforting about it. Sergio jumped into JJ’s lap while Clooney had his head on Spencer’s knee. They’d already gotten their ‘presents.’ Penelope had taken upon herself to buy them each a stocking denoting their names, which she’d stuffed full of treats. Whether they appreciated the sentiment or not, they certainly appreciated the food.

Kayla went first, since she already knew her present was from Derek. She looked truly awake for the first time when she tore past the wrapping to find a New York Liberty basketball jersey, and below it, another for Chicago Sky.

“I know you’re a New Yorker too now,” Derek said, “But you gotta keep supporting the home team.”

She didn’t even hesitate to jump up to give him a huge hug. Penelope, as if by magic, produced her Polaroid camera to snap a picture.

It went without saying that Penelope would be the first of them to open her present; she was all but bubbling over with excitement. It took her approximately two seconds to find the average sized box with her name scrawled on a tag. It was wrapped in snowman paper with a decorative pink bow tied around it. Whoever had gotten this present knew Penelope well – though saying that, they all did. As lovely as the bow was, she didn’t hesitate to rip it off, along with the paper, flying over her shoulder. Clooney dived for it immediately, tackling it to the ground like it was a wild animal. Sergio just stared.

“Oh, my gosh!” Penelope squealed.

Out of the box, she lifted up a sparkling pair of pink headphones. There were literally sparkling: studs akin to diamonds decorated over both sides. It’s most distinctive feature though, were the cat ears sticking out from the top. They were absolutely ridiculous and absolutely Penelope.

“Thank you!” she gushed, before realizing she didn’t know who she was thanking. She dropped the headphones in her lap, eyeing the rest of the group with a stern gaze. This was always one of Penelope’s favourite parts of secret Santa – guessing who they were.

“Hmm.” She analysed each of their expressions but they were unreadable. After countless nights playing poker they’d gotten good at it.

“JJ!” Penelope exclaimed, swiveling around to point a finger at her. But she shook her head.

Penelope huffed. “Okay, who was it?”

Spencer smiled, raising his hand. Penelope proceeded to crawl over to give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek, expressing her thanks.

“I heard there’d been complaints in the IT department of someone blasting their music too loud,” Spencer explained with a smile.

Penelope looked indignant all of a sudden. “Well lots of people work in IT.”

“Britney, the Spice Girls, Madonna?” Spencer was cut off from listing the rest.

“Ok, ok! Well, thank you, I love them.”

Next was Tara, who was given a set of vintage Led Zeppelin records from JJ. There were a few bands in there she didn’t recognise either; she’d just asked the women at the record shop for advice, and had been handed a bunch. She was sure Tara would like any kind of classic rock. And like them she did, already getting excited to return hope to test them out on her record player.

Spencer was gifted a big box of books from Tara. He was always easy to buy for, since he always had a hefty book list on the go. He was also one of those people that couldn’t assimilate to digital reading, despite the increasing trend. Penelope insisted it was far more efficient, but Spencer was a purist; he needed to feel the pages pass between his fingers. While the books hadn’t been a surprise, he was delighted to find a small pack of cards underneath. They looked vintage, displaying intricate artwork of various planets and astrological symbols. While being a bookworm was his defining trait, Spencer also had a lesser-known love for magic tricks. He thanked Tara with a beaming smile.

Derek had the biggest box to open, which of course, he made a joke about. It was torn open to reveal a shining pair of new rollerblades. His eyes sparkled like a little kid on, well, Christmas morning. Rollerblading wasn’t something he’d tried before, but he’d always expressed his desire to – which hadn’t gone unnoticed clearly. And alongside the rollerblades lay a very durable looking dog lead.

“So you can take Clooney with you,” Penelope chipped in, unable to keep quiet.

Derek shook his head with a laugh. “Thank you babygirl.”

Emily tried to push down the mushy feeling in her stomach when it came to her turn. She’d never had this experience, of sitting round a Christmas tree on Christmas morning, still clad in pyjamas, surrounded by people she actually cared for. But it still all felt so new; she didn’t know what to expect from the present denoting her name. By now she knew that the only possible person it could be from was Derek, and she noted how perfectly wrapped it was. She smiled as she tried to tear the paper away as gently as she could; it felt rude to do anything else with such pristine wrapping. She expected something generic, like bath salts or some kind of voucher, but waiting in the box for her was a pile of books – Kurt Vonnegut books. She felt her jaw drop.

“You didn’t think I’d remember did you?” Derek was grinning, clearly pleased with himself.

Emily wracked her brain. Oh. Slowly, she recalled the memory, all of them curled up in Central Perk on a Friday night a few weeks back. They’d been talking about books, led by Spencer, naturally. Emily had off handedly mentioned that the author was something of a guilty pleasure, her voice quiet, as she tried not to embarrass herself. She hadn’t been sure anyone had actually heard her. But clearly Derek had.

“Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about, they’re great books.”

Emily snapped her head up, eyes wide. “Really? You read them?”

Derek snorted. “They’re classics.”

Emily smiled. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover,she thought.

JJ was the only person yet to open their present, and Emily the only person not to have gifted one. Hence, the smile she shot Emily as she reached for the solitary little box left underneath the tree. Emily felt her heart race as JJ began to peel back the paper. She hoped she’d done the right thing.

* * *

JJ’s hands gently tore back the red and gold paper adorning the tiny box. It looked like it’d been wrapped in the dark, which made her smile. It was so very Emily. As she opened the lid off the box she let out a small but apparent gasp. Displayed on the velvet fabric was a necklace, a smooth silver chain with a beautiful pendant. It was a butterfly – a blue one, just like the one on her box by her bedside. She whipped her head up to meet Emily’s eyes, who was looking at her warily.

“Is it… is it okay?”

JJ didn’t have the words.

Penelope leaned over to get a good look at the gift. She let out a whistle. “We really should have set a price limit.”

Derek let out a laugh.

JJ returned her gaze to the necklace in her lap. She traced the wings of the butterfly gently with one hand, her other subconsciously drifting to her bare neck. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, she excused herself, making a dash to her room.

The others looked to each other, concerned, but with a clear understanding. Emily just felt terrible.

JJ heard a knock at her door a minute later. She took a breath, willing herself to calm down.

“Come in,” she called, wiping at her eyes.

She knew it would be Emily before she stepped through the door. She looked so uncertain as she walked through, like someone approaching a stranded kitten.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words to fall from her lips.

JJ turned to look at her, eyes wide. “What?”

Emily bit her lip, crossing her arms awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t..” She was struggling to find the words.

JJ’s heart clenched. This wasn’t fair to Emily. She needed an explanation. The last thing she wanted was for Emily to think she’d upset her, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Sit,” she said, motioning to the spot beside her on the bed.

Still looking hesitant, Emily took a seat beside her. There was a tension between them, like there always was, but it was even more prevalent now. JJ let out a breath.

“The necklace that I lost,” She still felt a twist in her stomach when she said that. “It was important to me.”

Emily was quick to offer more apologies. “I wasn’t trying to replace it.”

JJ shook her head with a small smile. “Emily, it’s okay. I just need to say this, okay?”

Emily nodded, falling silent again. JJ shifted, feeling her heart finally starting to slow. She trusted Emily, despite the short time they’d spent together. She was an important part of her life, and she wanted her to know.

“That necklace, it belonged to my sister. Roz.” She couldn’t stop her voice from catching on the name. It always felt difficult to say.

Emily remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“I always wanted it, growing up. Would beg and beg her to let me borrow it. But she kept saying that I’d break it, that I was too little to have it. But then, one day, a few days before Christmas, she gave it to me. No fuss, no explanation. She just said she wanted me to have it. The next day.. I… She was gone.”

JJ stopped abruptly, the feelings welling up. Then, she felt Emily’s hand on hers. Her shoulders dropped, tension easing at the touch. She squeezed her hand back tight. She didn’t need to say the words; she could tell that Emily knew. They sat there for a few moments; JJ letting the grip of Emily’s hand continue to calm her down.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. Whether she meant for Roz, or losing the necklace, it didn’t matter. JJ could feel her support, through her touch and the softness of her voice.

“The necklace,” JJ continued, motioning down to the box in her hand. “I love it, thank you.”

Emily blinked. “You do?”

JJ nodded, a weak smile forming. “I had a thing about butterflies growing up. But this blue one, the Morpho Menelaus, they were always my favourite.”

She didn’t mention how they were a symbol of not only change and rebirth, but also love. She’d worn that heart shaped necklace every day since she last saw Roz. She always thought of it as a reminder of her, a tribute. But she was seeing now that maybe, after years, having that constant reminder wasn’t what she needed. It almost felt like she was trying to fill her shoes. Maybe that wasn’t how she should pay tribute to her. Looking at the butterfly necklace, she felt freed in a way that made her feel guilty – but that was what it was. Like she finally had something that expressed who shewas. Still, she wished she had her sister’s necklace to keep somewhere safe.

Emily smiled. “I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. I didn’t even know what to get, but I saw it in a shop window and just, it reminded me of you.”

JJ smiled back, and turned around, reaching for something on her nightstand. She came back holding the jewelry box with the same butterfly carved into the lid.

Emily laughed lightly. “There’s that too.”

“Well you had good instinct,” JJ remarked, “There’s many things in this room you could have taken inspiration from.”

She proceeded to lift the lid off of the box. Inside laid her Walkman. Emily stared down at it, a fondness gracing her features akin to someone spotting an old friend.

“When I was growing up, I kept all my favourite things in here,” JJ said, her own voice taking on a wistful tone. “Mostly junk, old hair ties from my first concert, a wrapper from my favourite candy bar that they stopped making. I kept using it, as I got older. The things in it changed, but they were still special to me, at the time.” She paused, moving her thumb over the side of the box. “I kept your Walkman in here too.”

She lifted her head to meet Emily’s eyes, which were already staring back at her. JJ’s heart jumped, and she wished Emily’s hand was still locked with hers. She wanted to say something else but she wasn’t sure what. Emily spoke instead.

“Thank you for telling me,” Emily said.

JJ nodded. “I wanted you to know.” You’re important to me,she wanted to say.

“Christmas has never been a good time for me,” JJ continued. “It’s one of the only times I go home, because I feel I have to, but it’s so hard. I know it’s not fair to my parents, they livethere, but I just, it’s too difficult.”

Emily nodded. “That makes sense.”

JJ let out a sudden laugh. “I swear, my mum thought I concocted this storm up all by myself just to avoid going home.”

Emily cocked a brow. “Well that’s some pretty serious magic you got going there, I better watch my back.”

JJ laughed, wholeheartedly, and nudged Emily’s shoulder with her own. A second later there was a knock at the door. JJ called for them to come in and Penelope peeped her head around the door.

“All good here?” she asked.

JJ smiled, finding Emily’s hand easily. “All good,” she confirmed.

Penelope smiled, trying not to seem too relieved. “Well, we’re getting ready to take a photo if you’re up to it. Before we get too carried away.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “Pen, you’re not getting me drunk before noon.”

But Penelope just smirked before sauntering off.

* * *

They managed to take some pictures, with Penelope conducting everyone like a high school photographer. She was sporting soft red joggers, but it was paired with a striking Christmas jumper on top, Rudolf staring back at her, blinking red nose and all. Everyone was required to wear a Christmas jumper – which Emily had been lacking before Penelope presented her with one. She reminded her that she hadn’t been her secret Santa, but she just pushed it at her further - a ghastly looking green one, with a Christmas tree covered in rainbow tinsel adorning it. It turned out Penelope had also gotten Clooney a Christmas jumper, which he was all too happy to show off. Sergio was less pleased with the little Santa hat that was perched atop his head.

“Kayla, will you please put your phone down,” Derek sighed for what had to be the tenth time in the past 24 hours.

Kayla just rolled her eyes, continuing to text. “I thought we were done with the photos?”

Penelope snapped one last photo in her face for good measure. “Yes, you are relieved.”

Kayla laughed, swatting the camera away light naturedly.

“Hey guys look at this,” Tara called from the window. They all drifted forward, frowning at the sight.

“It stopped.” Emily said, almost confused.

Over the past few days they’d become accustomed to the raging blizzard outside, the constant whooshing of wind and battering of snow. It was only then that they realised how quiet it was. There were still flurries of snow falling gently, twirling about in a gentle breeze, but it wasn’t anything like the storm of the past few days.

Penelope gasped. JJ raised a finger from her place in the kitchen. “Pen, no. The food’s almost ready.”

Penelope sulked, stomping her foot. “But it’s clear, we can finally go out and enjoythe snow!”

JJ’s shoulders sagged, clearly relenting at the pout the other woman was giving her. “I guess lunch can wait.”

Penelope cheered, punching the air.

* * *

JJ and Emily walked down a snow-covered street, as quiet and still as a painting. It was like time had stopped. The only traces of movement they saw were from windows above, hosting the scenes of families and friends celebrating together. But their laughter was silent from the street, akin to their own footfalls in the snow. JJ didn’t think there’d ever been such a peaceful place. She felt so serene and carefree; she didn’t bother about the implications of looping her arm with Emily’s. And, clearly, neither did Emily, who only smiled back at her as they continued forward. Her cheeks were red from the cold, her dark hair pushed behind a similarly red bobble hat. She was so cute JJ thought she’d melt.

Their peace was somewhat shattered as the others ran up behind them, already caught up in a snowball fight. JJ marveled at Emily’s instinct to duck before a snowy projectile could collide with the back of her head.

“Nearly,” Emily chuckled. Penelope huffed, but immediately began constructing another weapon from a pile of snow.

Derek and Spencer raced past them, Spencer nearly tripping over his long purple NYU scarf. He so often looked graced with boy-like wonder, but none so much as that very moment. Derek threw a snowball at his back, and he just laughed. Clooney jumped up between them, convinced they were playing fetch. Tara was expertly dodging Penelope’s attacks, while Kayla attempted to build a fort for protection. JJ and Emily just laughed at their friends’ antics, not willing to let go of the other to join.

As they approached the West Village, things started to stir; people began to drift out from their apartments, just now noticing the break in the storm. It was like a scene from an old movie, as people gathered together on Christmas day, wrapped up warm and offering greetings.

There was even one man who’d brought his violin, and was elated to play for the growing crowd. The melodic notes of The Fairytale of New Yorkdrifted over the street, and everyone embraced the music, taking to a dance. Penelope and Derek looped arms, dancing around in a circle, Tara and Spencer doing the same. Kayla got Clooney to leap up into her arms. She just about managed not to topple over, swaying him from side to side.

JJ smiled and looked to Emily, who didn’t even try to back out. They joined the rest of the crowd, dancing haphazardly on a snowy street to the violin player’s music, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. A chorus of voices joined together as they sang, and neither of them could believe how quiet it had been mere moments before.

* * *

After much dancing and snowball fights and snowman building, they tumbled back inside, eager for warmth. Sergio just spared them one bored look from his cozy place next to the radiator.

Christmas dinner was a jovial affair, paper hats falling off their heads as they pulled crackers and laughed loudly at terrible jokes on little slips of paper. Penelope danced around the apartment waving mistletoe, giving everyone a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t missed the way she waved it over JJ and Emily more times than the others, but she looked unabashed. JJ couldn’t chasten her, not with the way her heart leapt when she was given an excuse to kiss Emily on the cheek. When she pulled back Emily looked like she’d been out in the snow again.

That night was a perfect mirror of their first night sharing a bed: JJ now curled into Emily’s side, head rested soundly on her chest, a butterfly necklace still adorning her neck.

[aro-of-artemis]

no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

A jukebox soulmate au where your missing stuff finds its way to your soulmate.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147940

They say that there's someone who makes up the rest of your soul. That they're your perfect match and once you meet them, once you touch them, your wandering souls will be fused back together, whole and unbroken.

 Luke's not sure who they are. But honestly, he just wishes his shit would stop going permanently missing. You lose something and it's sucked through some kind of hole in space-time to be found by your soulmate. Luke would really like to have a conversation with whoever came up with this system cause it sucks.

 Cause he's a forgetful guy. His brain is always going a million miles an hour, with at least three different trains of thought chugging away and sometimes the tracks cross and there's a collision and all the passengers have to bail out and it's just a mess, okay? Keeping track of his stuff tends to fall by the wayside a little bit.

 It's how he lost his favourite beanie. And don't get him started on the number of individual socks that have just poofed themselves out of existence. He always has to have a box of new guitar picks handy because as soon as it's not in his hand or clamped between his teeth, it's as if it never existed. He just hopes his soulmate appreciates them.

 But it's a give and take. He'll reach into his pocket to find scrunchies, hair clips, endless bobby pins. Just generic stuff that tells him very little about who his soulmate is except that they probably have long hair. (Once, he found one long, dark hair curling around the folds of a scrunchie. He keeps it tucked between the pages of a notebook, stashed away on his bookshelf.)

 (And yeah: they. He's spent a lot of time thinking about this. He's had crushes on all sorts of people and their gender never really made a difference, but his introspection also leads to a solid black ring resting on the middle finger of his right hand.)

 One day, he opens his school bag to find a homework page that does not belong to him. He looks at it, front and back, scouring for a name, a hint, a clue, feeling a thing with feathers rise behind his ribs, reducing his lung capacity and making him draw in shallower breaths. But nothing. Just the slightly messy handwriting of someone who thinks faster than they can write. He sighs and stuffs it back in his bag, reluctantly retrieving his maths book. His frustrated sigh must have been audible because Reggie leans over from his own desk.

 "Hey, you all right, man?' His eyebrows are drawn up together, lines of concern creasing his face.

 "Yeah, yeah. Just soulmate stuff junking up my bag."

 It's not always junk, though. A bracelet turns up on his bedside table. He starts wearing it every day. He refuses to take it off, even to sleep. Sheet music to an unfamiliar song is found wedged between his records. This particular item makes his heart beat faster, his chest tingling and warm. Because they're a musician too. It makes sense, of course. No way his soulmate could not like music. It's basically Luke's entire soul (or half soul, he guesses). But the confirmation makes him feel both calmer and more anxious. He wants to meet this person.

 His favourite item to ever turn up is a photo. A woman and a little kid sit in a field, turned towards each other, faces pointed away from the camera. But he can see their smiles. He sleeps with it next to his face on the pillow the night he finds it because he doesn't want to look away. In the morning, he tucks it into the back of his song-writing journal where he keeps the rest of his heart.

 At 17, he and his best friends are on the precipice of being legends. As he pulls his guitar from the case, a long, striped scarf flutters to the ground, the kind someone might tie in their hair or loop around their wrist. He ties it around his bicep for good luck. It makes him feel like his soulmate is there, by his side, cheering him on.

 They meet a girl - Rose - who looks so familiar. Something about her smile. But he just can't quite put a finger on it. All he knows is that her presence is reassuring. Safe. He doesn't know her but he feels a tug in his chest that says family. The same tug he feels when he looks at Alex and Reggie and Bobby. (He's changed his mind, his half of his shared soul is made up of these three dorks and the music they make together.)

 And then he dies. As darkness closes in around him, he thinks I'm sorry, boys and I'll never get to meet them.

  ---

 "Flynn!" Julie whines. "I can't find my homework anywhere!"

 Flynn rolls her eyes. "Did you check your school bag?"

 "Yes," Julie bites out, not actually mad at Flynn, just at the situation.

 "Your desk?" A nod. "Your dad's car? Under your bed? Your locker?"

 Julie has to stop her. She knows from experience that Flynn'll just keep going. "Yes, it's not anywhere."

 Flynn shrugs nonchalantly, a smirk pulling the corner of her mouth. "Well, guess it's gone to your soulmate then."

 Julie groans loudly in frustration. She pulls her beanie (their beanie) down over her eyes and slumps back against her locker, trying desperately to not look like she's pouting but definitely pouting. Flynn just gives her an unimpressed look.

 Julie breathes out harshly through her nose and resigns herself to retrieving the schoolwork she does have from her locker.

 "Ugh, gross!" she exclaims, fishing a pair of boxers out from where they had appeared in the dark recesses of her locker.

 Flynn's snort turns into a full belly laugh as Julie holds them away from her body, arm extended as if she were holding hazardous waste.

 She chucks them back in and slams the door shut. "Come on, let's get to class."

 Flynn follows, tripping over herself as she continues to laugh her way down the hall.

 ---

 Julie isn't sure who her soulmate is or whether she knows them already. Of course, it's pretty rare to meet them in high school, but a girl can dream. Unfortunately, it seems that her soulmate is terrible at doing laundry because she'll often find individual socks lying on her bedroom floor and undies crumpled in the corner of her bathroom. The beanie that turns up is quickly added into regular rotation and if it isn't on her head, it's tucked into her bedside table. The muscle tank threw an interesting spanner in the works as it set her mind to imagining the kind of person who might wear something like that. (She might, maybe become a person who wears something like that. Occasionally. When the desire strikes her.)

 She's fairly certain that they're a musician. She's constantly finding half-written lyrics strewn around her room in the most atrocious handwriting seen outside of a doctor's office. The lyrics - those that are legible - are beautiful. Occasionally they'll be lyrics to a Trevor Wilson song, though, which is a bit weird but she assumes they must just be a big fan. She appreciates their good taste.

 Another hint is the guitar picks. She finds them everywhere: in her sock draw, between the pages of her school books, next to her toothbrush. One memorable time, she found a pick snarled in her hair. And all of them, every last one, are covered in tooth marks. As if her soulmate has a habit of chewing on their guitar picks. It's kinda gross. Even so, she collects them in a jar on her desk with the date she'd found them written on the back.

 ---

 The boys turn up and her life is turned right-side up. She tells them to stay out of her room. Constantly. Boundaries, she reminds them. Alex and Reggie get it, they can respect her personal space. But, Luke. She knows he goes in there because he keeps leaving his stuff everywhere.

 On this day she finds his flannel just draped across her bed, as if he's trying to irritate her. She snatches it up and storms down to the studio.

 "Luke!" she shouts as she enters the studio, ready to tear him a new one. "What have I told you about going in my roo-"

 She stops short because all three boys are ripping the place apart, looking for something. When he turns around to face her, she sees tears wetting his face that he quickly tries to swipe away. Her heart leaps into her throat.

 "Luke, what's wrong?" she tries to ask but is interrupted.

 "You found it!" His voice is a little watery but exuberant.

 "I -- what?" she shoots him a quizzical look.

 "My flannel. Well - my dad's flannel, but -" he cuts himself off, scrubbing his fist over his eyes.

 Julie scoffs a little, gently. "Yeah, dude. You left it in my room."

 His eyebrows furrow in that way of his.

 "No, I didn't."

 "Uh, yeah. You did."

 "I haven't been in your room."

 "Well, clearly you have," she says, shaking the flannel a little and holding it out to him.

 "Thanks," he says softly as he grabs it, still looking at it with a bewildered expression. But he shrugs it on and uses the sleeve to wipe away what remains of his tears.

 When Julie looks over at Reggie and Alex, they're exchanging a meaningful look that Julie can't quite read. When they notice her gaze, they both glance away, once again fascinated with the chairs on the ceiling.

 Huh.

 ---

  "Julie! Stop leaving your homework in my song-writing journal!"

 "I didn't put it there!"

 "Well who did, then?"

 The patented Reggie and Alex LookTM makes an appearance.

 ---

 "Hey! I used to have a beanie like that!"

 "Uhuh."

 "I did! It was my favourite until I lost it."

 Julie nods but doesn't look up from her homework.

 ---

 "Ew, gross, Luke! Why do guitarists chew on their picks?"

 He shrugs a little sheepishly. "It just helps me think. Besides, if I put it down it just kind of … disappears into the void." He gestures vaguely at the aforementioned void.

 "That's true," Reggie pipes up. "He's always got a back-up supply!"

 Alex scoffs a little. "Yeah, but he's the only guitarist I know who chews on his picks."

 "Well my soulmate chews on theirs," Julie puts in, "So Luke's not the only one."

 She hears the implement in question clatter to the piano. When she looks at Luke his eyes are wide and a little sad. None of them had really talked about soulmates. She's not sure about the implications that being dead has on finding a soulmate. None of them had found theirs before they died.

 Alex, however. He'd managed to literally run into his soulmate in ghost form, so who knows. She's not sure if there are any rules. Whether both parties have to be dead or if one can be alive.

 (If she's honest with herself, she's spent a fair amount of time thinking about this. Thinking about Luke. She pushes the thought away when it pops up cause it's not possible but it always creeps back in. But they can't even touch so it’s a moot point. That longed-for skin-to-skin contact that bridges the gap between souls remains elusive. The silly daydream of a love-struck girl.)

 ---

 "Julie," Flynn says worriedly as they sidle up to their lockers, "Where's your ring?"

 "My rin-" she lifts her right hand to her face and studies her empty middle finger with distraught consternation. The space where delicate twists of black metal usually sit is bare. "My ring! I - I'm sure I put it on this morning."

 "Yeah, I saw you wearing it," Flynn confirms, her eyebrows furrowing.

 Julie can feel a tide rising in her throat, swelling up behind her eyes, each crash of the sea battering against her ribcage in a heartbeat tattoo.

 A poof to her right interrupts her rising panic. She looks at Luke, eyes wide and watering.

 "Julie! I came to bri- What's wrong?" he cuts himself off when he notices her distress.

 "My ring is gone!" Her voice is tight, as if trapped in her throat.

 Flynn had cottoned on Luke's presence and had begun to move around to where he stands to prevent their peers from thinking Julie's well and truly gone off the deep end. (Julie thinks distantly how grateful she is for such a wonderful friend.)

 Bafflingly, a bright smile splits Luke's face. "This ring?" And pinched between his pointer finger and thumb is Julie's ring.

 Julie's entire body visibly relaxes and it's as if her spine contracts a couple inches, muscles no longer held taut by emotion, the tide pulls out.

 "Where did you find that?" Her voice is practically a whisper now, adrenaline having sapped all energy.

 Luke shrugs nonchalantly. "It was in my pick container for some reason."

 Creases form on Julie's face but she gratefully receives the piece of jewellery. She slips it into its rightful place and when she looks up she realises Luke's eyes have gone wide. Her eyebrows pull up into a question.

 "You -- no, sorry, nevermind." He shakes his head and takes a step back. Julie moves forward a step. Flynn glances around to make sure no one is watching.

 "No, Luke, it's okay. What's wrong?"

 He shakes his head again, eyebrows drawing together and the hint of a smile on his lips. Instead of answering, he reaches his right palm out to touch hers, letting their rings knock together.

 "Oh," Julie breathes. She's not sure how she'd missed it before. Maybe just that it had blended in with all his other rings.

 "Yeah," he says, bashful, "Oh."

 Julie smiles at him and he smiles right back.

 ---

 The Orpheum happens. And the boys are clinging to the last shreds of themselves and she's crying out Go, save yourselves.

 But No music is worth making, Julie, if we're not making it with you.

 And she hugs him. And she can feel him. The places their skin meet spark with some cosmic electricity but there's no time to dwell on it because she has to save Alex and Reggie too.

 It isn't until later, when Reggie exclaims, "Hey, what's that on your back?"

 She twists around, glimpsing the shape of a hand darkening the skin of her lower back. Her head whips around to look at Luke and she notices. "Luke, your shoulder!"

 One hand flies up to his left shoulder, tracing over the darkened patch where Julie's palm had first rested against his skin. Their eyes lock.

 "You're-"

 "We're-"

 She's not sure who's making which language-adjacent sound.

 Alex is looking back and forth between them, a grin pulling across his face while Reggie's mouth hangs open in realisation. But they stay quiet. The see, told you so's will be saved for later.

 Julie starts moving, crossing the room towards Luke. Luke seems to shake out of a stupor, surging towards her as well. They meet in the middle, her arms once again wrapping around his neck in a replay of their earlier embrace. His hands find their spot on her back.

 "It's you, it's really you - " she's babbling. She continues to babble. Luke moves a hand up to smooth back her hair and gently places his lips against her forehead, finally causing her tongue to cease. The touch is so painfully tender it feels like a branding iron against her skin. They stay there for a century or so, just rocking to an inaudible beat, clinging to one another.

 Finally, Luke tucks his chin so that he can rest their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

 "You're amazing, Julie Molina. I would die a thousand times to find you."

 She nods, unable to form words cause, yeah, so would she.

 They pull back and her eyes slide over left arm, landing on the scarf tied there. "My scarf!" She tugs on it a little.

 Luke chuckles, sliding his palm along her jaw. Realisation crosses his face. "Oh, that is my beanie."

 His head whips up and around when loud guffaws break past stifling hands. Alex and Reggie have dissolved into borderline hysterics. He looks back at Julie whose eyes fill with shared mirth. A laugh bubbles up in his own chest, spilling over and out of his mouth.

 And finally, surrounded by Alex and Reggie and Julie, his soul is complete.

[gotboredwrote]

Chapter 4: Misfire

[[The American Publicist // JRD]]

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 2.7K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: Angst(?), some sexual tension but nothing explicit, swearing Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: I think I’ll just let this chapter speak for itself.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost

~

“You…what?”

“I wrote a song. Like I was supposed to that first week?”

“Is that why you brought me here? Just to tell me that?”

“No, I want to perform it for you.”

~

You could not believe the words you were hearing. John Deacon, the man who you were told never sings or performs on his own. John Deacon, the man who hardly speaks without spoken to. John Deacon was going to perform for you. Give you a private show. You could have burst with the excitement bubbling through your veins at that moment. You were honestly at a loss for words, so you just made some audible gasps. John took that as his cue to keep talking to you.

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation before I start. First, I have never really written a song. Not for an album, not really at all. I am not what you would call a lyricist like Fred or Brian. I can explain the song, but I want you to hear it first. Second, I am clearly one human being so I can only play one instrument at a time, and I haven’t showed this to the boys yet. So, I don’t really have backing tracks. You’re only really going to hear the bassline. But because I wrote the song, a lot of the stuff for the bassline is close to what Brian will be playing. Third, and what I would say is the most important, is that I am not a singer. Never have been. That’s partially why I chose the bass in the first place all those years ago. People don’t typically pay attention to bass players, and those that do, well… you mean a lot to us.” You could tell he was getting more nervous by the second, there were a couple things giving that away. His voice was starting to get quieter and shakier, and with that last comment his nose and cheeks were starting to turn red. “Nonetheless,” he continued, “I will sing the words for you so you can get a feel for what I am going for in this song. I really can’t sing, so don’t laugh at my voice, okay?”

It seemed like he had finished his explanation, and you were still at a loss for words, quite honestly a little bit hung up on his comment about the people who pay attention to bass players. You wanted to let him know that he can be completely at ease around you, so you were racking your brain trying to figure out the right thing to say. Something that would wrap up all your thoughts into one sentence or so. It hit you like a ton of bricks.

“If that is what you want to do, John, I would feel as though I won the lottery – even though I basically feel that way anytime I am around you since you treat me so kindly. But if you aren’t ready to do this, you don’t have to go out of your way just for me, you can hold off until you show it to the boys and let Freddie sing it.”

“No, I- I want to do this. For you. If for no other reason than that, I want you to hear this exactly how I meant it.”

There was nothing you could say to counter that, so you figured it would be best to sit back and listen to that magic that he wanted to share with you. You really did win the lottery getting to work with this man.

~

“Give me one minute to get situated and I will start, okay?”

You simply nodded at him, staring intently at every single motion he made. You were mesmerized, and he had not strummed once. He was sitting cross-legged on his bean bag chair, bass placed gently in his lap while he started to tune it. Why was he even doing that, he knew he was always perfectly in tune without fault, because that’s just how good he is. You noticed that the way he plucks the strings for when he is tuning is different than when he is playing, and he does not lick his fingers as much. In fact, his right hand hardly moves. Tiny little plucks just loud enough that he can hear it to make small adjustments with his left hand. He had only been tuning for maybe ninety seconds and he had moved onto fixing his hand-written sheet music on the floor. You noticed the way he threw his hair back to make sure it would not get in the way of his bass or the music, kind of like a girl in a photoshoot who needed her hair to look like it was wind-swept. It made you smile a little bit because it was out of character for him. He slowly looked up at you after he realized that all his last-minute adjustments, which were really just motions to stall this from happening, were complete. If he looked like he was nervous before, he could not imagine what he looked like now.

“Um, okay. I think I’m ready. Remember you can’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, John. Please play.”

“Yes ma’am. This is called “Misfire.”

~

Don't you misfire; fill me up With the desire to carry on Don't you know, honey, that love's a game It's always a hit or miss…

Right off the bat, you noticed that this song did something for him. The way he played was more intense, more focused, long fingers meticulously plucking a particular part of each string to ensure that he got the perfect sound out of it. His eyes were also already screwed shut, so the whole bit about getting the sheet music out was just him burning off nervous energy. He knew this song by heart, and that is because it came from his heart. He wrote this about someone. Someone he loved. You knew this because his eyes were closed so tightly and his voice was already a little raspy by the fourth line. He looked like he was imagining the prefect pleasure. Like he was at the climax of… well, you did not let your mind go there, lest there be problems for both of you. The words were one of desperation, words that show he is facing an internal battle of having these feelings about someone and knowing that one small slip could ruin everything. You had been feeling that recently too.

So take your aim Got to hold on tight Shoot me out of sight Don't you misfire; fill me up With the desire to carry on…

His eyes were still screwed tight with pleasure. If music brought him this much happiness, you could not even begin to imagine what was going on in his head when he wrote these words down. You could not help but think there were a couple pauses in between to take care of some business. As he sang the second line about holding on tight, you both unconsciously changed the way you were sitting. He simply lifted his legs up slightly, like a butterfly starting to flap its wings, while simultaneously pushing his bass down onto his core. He did not even seem to notice he did it, but you sure as hell did. You were sitting with your legs slightly bent, almost side-saddle but a little bit more splayed out onto the floor. You brought your legs closer to your chest, closing the space between them. You were starting to feel a warm sensation take over your entire body. You were not hot, really, there was just an inner warmth spreading from your head to your toes, making you almost the slightest bit dizzy. You had no idea what was going on, but you sure as hell were not going to tell him to stop playing. You had an intense desire for him to carry on…

Don't you misfire; fill me up With the desire to carry on Your gun is loaded And pointing my way…

He could repeat those first two lines over and over and you would never get bored of hearing them. But those were not the words he wanted you to focus on in that moment. When he reached the third and fourth lines, his eyes wrenched themselves open and you could no longer see his beautiful green-grey eyes, they were almost a complete black. Staring directly at you. Through you. You swallowed and seriously hoped that no noise came from your lips. It was like he knew exactly what feelings you were trying to sort out, because frankly, you had not even thought about romance in any way since you two left your flat before the dinner. Now that was all you were thinking about, and clearly that is what he was thinking about when he wrote this song. You realized something in that moment. Something that you had spent countless hours before falling asleep thinking about. It all fell together in the blink of an eye. Those feelings you were trying to sort out? Yeah, those were love.

There's only one bullet So don't delay Got to time it right Fire me through the night…

You were so frustrated though, because he clearly wrote this song with one idea in mind. One person, with him, in one particular situation. One that you had no idea who that other person was. Because no human being, no matter how deprived, could come up with these lyrics without seriously feeling something for a person. You were just trying to think of a girl that had floated around the office that could be the girl in question. Besides yourself, of course, because why would it be you? That’s never how it works. You watched his eyes flutter shut by the end of the lines, and you swore you saw his legs twitch. You had not realized that you were also crossing your legs in the position they were in to get more friction. Damn this boy.

Come on take a shot Fire me higher…

If that was an invitation, it sure was inviting. You wanted to be that bass. Desperately. It was pathetic. He was still pushing the damn thing onto his core, and you still do not think he even realizes it. Your eyes had literally not moved away from his bass, you do not even think you have blinked for the last twenty seconds. You could feel how flushed your face was, and you were so thankful that his eyes had resumed being screwed shut. Round two of that, huh? God, this boy loved to torture you. Your best friend. You are falling in love with your best friend. And you do not even know how long you get to work with them. This is why you usually only accept jobs with older men – there is nothing there for you to want. But when you got this offer, despite what your gut told you, you took it. This is exactly what you thought was going to happen, and tomorrow you would feel sorry for yourself. Right now, you were a little bit busy.

Don't you miss this time Please don't misfire Misfire.

With each remaining line of the song, his voice got softer. His voice also got raspier, like he was finishing the scene in his head. The first line was a challenge. The second line was a plead. The third line was hardly a word, it was mainly air. At this point your legs had gone slack in front of you, your lips were slightly parted in awe, and other feelings. You had to blink a couple times before you even felt like you could get words to form, you had to bring yourself back down to reality. John had let the bass loosely slip from his grip and lay slack across his lap, legs starting to splay out in the same way yours were. You both just took in each other’s presences for a few moments. You both had that same afterglow radiating from your features as if what was going on in John’s head when he wrote and sang the song had actually happened. It was a delicious and blissful few moments. It was mind-boggling that his all happened in under two minutes. Eventually you both realized that you had not said a word to each other for a minute and one of you would have to say something. Or do something. So, you did. You kneeled up to sit on your knees, immensely lessening the space between the two of you. Not close enough where you could hear his breathing, but close enough where you could see that there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. You could not see underneath his bass, but you could not help but wonder what was really going on under there. Clearly the person in his thoughts did something to him. Something beautiful. You reached over and placed a hand on his knee, which he looked at with glazed over eyes. Slowly and almost nervously, he placed his own hand over yours and lightly squeezed. You could feel that he was trembling. So were you.

“If you don’t call yourself a songwriter after that, you are the biggest liar known to man, John Deacon. You are a phenomenal writer, every word and note you played just now was mesmerizing… just like you.”

He was just gazing up at you, since he was laying back in his seat and you were raised up on your knees. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. Not just the only thing that mattered. The absolute only thing in the world. And to him, in that moment, you were. But he would never tell you that. He was not about to risk anything further with his feelings yet. This song was his way of telling you that he was in love with you, but he still did not want to scare you off. Just like before. He could only muster out two sentences. Breathy sentences.

“Thank you, Y/N, it means… a lot coming from you. It is getting late, though, I should drive you home.”

With that, he gathered up his stuff, and you grabbed your dress and shoes. John could see that you were about to go change, and he lightly grabbed your arm.

“You can wear those home, I don’t mind.” His signature smile taking over his blissful features. He looked amazing like this. You simply smiled in return.

You both made your way to his car, and John made it a point to get to the car first so he could open your door for you. Always the gentleman. You sat in the car, and he shut the door behind you. You let out a breath that you had not realized you were holding in. He did the same thing as he walked to his trunk. He gently laid his stuff down and made his way to the driver’s seat. The drive back to your flat was almost completely silent. The only sounds made were some heavy breaths, both because you were both trying to keep the sensations coursing through your bodies at bay. While it was a comfortable silence, as it always was between John eventually pulled up in front of your flat, and he said that he would walk you to your door. It was almost 11:30pm by the time you got up to your door. When you both were standing in front of your door, you turned around again to say one last thing before he left.

“John… I really meant what I said. Back at the studio. You are a fantastic songwriter, and I just know that the boys are going to love the song. I… I’m really proud of you.”

John simply shot you his bashful smile and grabbed and squeezed your hand as a thank you, the gesture becoming so normal for the two of you now. You unlocked your door, wished him a goodnight, squeezed his hand again, and went in your apartment. You both had turned to put your backs to the apartment door and had yet another one of your shared thought moments. Except this time, it escaped both of your lips.

“Jesus Christ, I’m desperate.”

[hisgirlwonder]

One Shot - Seeing Red (cont.)

Length: 4k words Warning: N/A Synopsis: Michael has risen to power, with followers and power galore, only for you to get in the way and knock him back down to earth with your own revelation. Notes: Continuing from part one which is here, this is prior to the creation of the Outposts/ when the sanctuary was starting to be built and the wheels were being put in motion for the future.

A baby was not part of the plan, however, it seemed as if the whole plan had been set fire to. Michael swore that he’d never put anything before you - funny how things change when someone gets desperate, isn’t it?

Slam.  

Your bedroom door hits its frame so hard from the force that you hear the windows rattle.

You fall onto your bed and are comforted by blankets – legs bent at the hips, arms wrapping themselves around pillows. The tears hit, and they hit hard, almost like a dam had burst its bank. Everything you’d built seemed to be crumbling right before your eyes.

Michael is knocking at the door, pleading with you, “Please, honey, let me in. Just let me talk to you.”

“I’ll let you in when you change your tune and put me first, Michael.”

He answers back with a voice full of distress and discomfort, “It’s not that easy, Y/N.”

You slap him with the truth, “It really is. You can either continue down this road full of hurt and destruction and throw me out of your life for good, which will kill us all, me and your unborn child included, or you can snap out of it and be a real man; a father to the life I’m growing inside of my stomach.”  

Words evaded Michael, speechless at the bitter reality of the situation. You grew more annoyed with his silence and threw the pillow in your hand at the door, “I never thought I’d be imagining my life without you but it seems you’re giving me no choice.”

Michael finally gets the ability to speak again, imploring, “I just need some time, please don’t shut me out for good.”

“I’m not the one shutting someone out.”

-

You wake up the next morning wishing this was some nightmare. Rolling over to look at the other side of the bed assured you it wasn’t. It was real life. Michael had disappeared but presently you couldn’t care less.

You throw some clothes on and walk to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, rubbing circles on your belly, cooing, “It’s okay baby, mama’s going to fix everything.” You weren’t sure you believed your words but you tried, for the sake of the baby.

You notice a letter on the table. Opening the envelope up, it reads:

I need time away to process things. I will be back soon. Don’t shut me out, y/n, I’m not giving up. Love, Michael.

You screw the piece of paper up into a ball, angered at the fact that this is what caused his switch to the dark side in the first place; that disappearance to “find” himself. He left you and came back a completely different person. You throw the paper ball on the floor and abandon the idea of tea; heading to pack a bag to stay with your sister for the night instead.

-

“Rough night?”

You dip underneath the arm she was holding the door open with, with hair a mess  and your eyes bloodshot, headed bee-line for the lounge. You never even bothered to look at yourself in the mirror prior to leaving.

Sitting down on the couch, your hand travels over the arm to feel its fabric, bring you back so many years. “I love that you still have this couch. All of those memories.” Your eyes skim the room as you inhale the feeling of nostalgia deeply; admitting to your sister that you missed it there.

It was funny because the two of you didn’t get along so much as children but once you grew out of the teenage phase that was another story.  She became your rock, especially since Michael’s first disappearance; almost as if she did more for you than your own parents. This house, although it was your childhood home, didn’t feel like home until you were almost an adult. Your parents moved away and left the house to the two of you – both of you agreed she would move in because you had already moved in with Michael.

Your sister, S/N, sits down on the chair to your left, and queries you, “Both me and the house miss you. Now, for the real question, what has called for the unannounced rush over here? Do I need to brace myself?”

“It’s kind of a funny story, do you think you could make me a cup of tea? That is if you can remember how to make it,” you tease, deep down thankful for having S/N as a best friend as well as your sister.

“Of course! Unlike you, little sister, my memory isn’t bad. White with one, I don’t forget these things.”

-

S/N returns with cups in hands, placing them down on the glass table and sitting back in her spot. She already knew all about the situation at hand but was like you and didn’t want a part of it. It too made her sad because she loved Michael like her own flesh and blood.

“Basically, to put it simply, I had enough of him ignoring me and the last straw was finding out I was pregnant with his child,” you confide in her as you’re reaching for your cup of tea. Luckily S/N had already put down the cups because she was shocked; her mouth drops open, she gasps, “You’re pregnant?” and covers it up with her hand.

Slowly nodding your head, still trying to come to terms with what was going on yourself. It hadn’t even been 24 hours yet since everything changed. It was no longer just about you, it was also about the life you were growing.

S/N already has an inkling that your answer is no but she figures she may as well ask, “Have you told our mother?”

You were in two minds about telling your mother at all since the two of you barely spoke after you moved out, but you knew she would want to know. She’d be a grandmother, after all, and you know what that meant. She would fawn over the child like nobody else’s business – different to how she treated you. She’d probably want to snatch the child away from you the second you gave birth and raise it herself in the hopes that you didn’t ruin it. You admit to S/N, “I was going to wait a while before I did that. I don’t-“

She interjects your sentence knowing exactly what you’re about to say, “You don’t talk to mother unless absolutely necessary. Got it. Probably for the best at the moment.”

You shrug it off, “I just don’t know what to do. I told him to pick between The Co-Operative and me; the woman carrying the fruit of his loins.”

S/N tries to cheer you up and reminds you of one thing, “I think, at the end of the day, Michael has been with you for nearly half of his life. You’re his one constant. Do you think he’s going to throw this away?”

“Yeah, but S/N, you haven’t seen him how I have. I’m almost invisible most days now. His ‘followers’ seem to be able to provide everything - love and a false sense of security. I’m just the stain on his jacket shoulder that he can’t get out.”

S/N tilts her head sympathetically and her mouth forms a slight pout, “Just give him some time, okay?”

Leaving S/N to finish her tea, you decide to take a trip down memory lane in your old bedroom. When you arrive you’re hit with a yearning; for the past, for how things used to be, anything other than what you were feeling.

Stepping through the entrance, your eyes scan the walls and you notice nothing has changed since you were nineteen.

Your feet lead you to your old drawers, the top of which was lined with framed family photos. One in particular stood out to you – it was taken just weeks before you and Michael met, when you had no idea what life held in the days to come. You pick it up and run your finger over the glass with a longing to be her again, except this time you’d do things differently.

S/N knocks at the door, “I haven’t really touched anything in here except I change the bedding and do the cleaning.”

“You’ve done well, S/N. It means a lot to me after all this time. It still brings me back,” you sigh, “To happier times.”

She asks if you need anything but you just reply back telling her you need space; there wasn’t much anyone else could do. Every emotion was because of Michael.

All you can do is stand in your old room, clutching at the reminder of the way it was - you were a young witch with a brain full of smarts; knowing better than to waste your time on boys. Pulling open your top draw, you discover that your box of “special memories” as you called it was still there - full of letters, pictures, all sorts of things. You take it over to your bed and sit down to dissect the contents.

Inside it held a poem from your best friend, a lock of your baby hair, and random bits and pieces until you get to the very bottom of the box. You pull out a piece of paper, unfold it, and you’d recognise the handwriting anywhere - it was a letter Michael wrote to you when the two of you first got together. You knew you shouldn’t have read it but you were a masochist it seemed.

This letter was a confession of the ways that he loved you. Your heart basically broke itself all over again reading where he called you his “Yoko”. You broke down - how long had it been since you’d heard him sing? He used to serenade you all the time, and now nothing. You throw the box to the floor, not caring that it breaks and the objects scatter all over the carpet and weep into your hands.

Your sister hears the crash and you sobbing down the hall, rushing to see if you were okay. “What’s wrong?”

“I really think it’s over, S/N. As much as he says he needs time, surely it wouldn’t be that difficult if he really loved me?”

She wraps you in her arms, rocking you gently, “Nothing is ever as it seems. Maybe in his mind he really was doing this for you and he got caught up in things. Losing Miriam was devastating for him and sometimes grief makes people act crazy.”

You look up and exclaim, “But I’m carrying his child, S/N!”

“I know, little sister, I know. But that boy is clinging to a place in the world where maybe he feels like he fits in? I’m not trying to make excuses for him but these people are connected with his so-called “father” and so was Miriam. He has more of a place now than he did growing up.”

Lifting your arms up to wipe at your eyes, which now were burning even more, you tell her, “This doesn’t make it right, you know.”

S/N kisses the side of your head, trying to reassure you, “I know, but when does life ever make sense? Come down to the kitchen, I’ll make you some blueberry waffles.”

You smile weakly, “My favourite.”

S/N thinks it’s a good idea to spend the rest of the day indulging in snacks you love and watching your favourite childhood movies to bring you a distraction. It may be temporary albeit it’s a distraction none the less.

You managed to get a handful of movies in then you crash from exhaustion and sleep through the night.

-

The next morning comes and you feel like you’ve been hit by a train. The two of you eat breakfast then say your goodbyes and you travel back home; this is nearly the last place you want to be right now. When you arrive, you notice you have a text message from Michael asking you to call him. You do so, begrudgingly.

You hear his voice on the other end of the phone and huff, “What do you want, Michael?”

“You sound tired, are you okay?”

At this point you’re rolling your eyes at his attempts to avoid the question. You tell him, “Stop deflecting. What did you want?”

Michael proposes, “I just wanted to see if you were home, is it okay if I come over? I’m down the road and had a thought which I feel like is better discussed in person.”

“Sure. Come over but I just hope for both our sakes you aren’t wasting our time,” You tell him; your words sound rather flat, as if almost all emotion has left your body. Anxiety grew in the pit of your stomach and you were overcome with nausea.

The ten minutes that followed prior to him he arriving felt like ten hours. You open the door and there he was; the man you loved despite all of what was happening. You remember the first time he came back after disappearing and you couldn’t wait to see him, but now? You felt like your eyes deceived you – the man you saw had a beautiful face, of a person you once recognised, but not anymore; The insides no longer matched.

You’re cold, and almost callous with your words, “Let’s go sit in your precious office if you really want a discussion.”

Michael has a pained expression on his face; things were already not headed in the direction he was hoping for.

-

“Sit,” you instruct, making him take a seat first to which he complies. You sit across the table, your eyes locked on him as you follow suit.

“Thanks for allowing me to see you, y/n,” he says, understanding that his presence must be causing you some level of pain. He wasn’t wrong.

Your eyes narrow and you spit venomous words in his direction, “I don’t really have much of a choice, Michael.”

“I won’t take up too much of your time except I wanted to propose something.”

“Try me,” You retort with an eyebrow raised.

Michael exhales, his line of sight transferring between his fidgeting hands on the table and yours, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said yesterday and I wanted to say I’m sorry I haven’t been myself. I’m also sorry you’ve felt ignored. I never meant to do that.”

You roll your hands, signalling for him to continue.

“I figured out how to fix that. I want you to be included in everything. I want you to be my Right Hand.”

You pull your head back while screwing up your face at the thought of what he’d just suggested, “Um, excuse me?”

“The Co-Operative can look after both of us. Once this plan is in place, we can go to the sanctuary and live out our lives there. You’ll be treated like a queen, my love. We’ll have everything we ever need.”

You jump up from your chair. “Wait a second, you don’t actually believe I want to do this, do you?” You scoff, continuing, “Michael fucking Langdon, what part of ‘I don’t want everyone I love dying’ or ‘I want to raise our baby up to have a normal life,’ do you not understand?”

“Nothing about me is normal, y/n,” he admits. You can’t help but laugh at what he just said. It seemed like the biggest cop-out to you, as if that was his reasoning for going along with the end of the world stuff. You didn’t want a white picket fence with two dogs – you just wanted Michael to grow old with, and now, to raise your son or daughter.

“News flash, Michael, there’s a difference between ‘not normal’ and trying to blow the whole damn world up.” You point to the door, “I think you should go.”

He starts to plead with you again, reminiscent of his behaviour yesterday, “Y/n, please? Please reconsider my offer.”

You walk out of the office and down to the front door, saying, “I’m not a fucking contract you’re signing over, Michael. This is bigger than your own little fan club of Madelyn and Co. Maybe she can go find you your own evil queen that will happily be your Right Hand.”

Your opening the door and holding it ajar, gesturing in the direction leading outside of the house. “Get out of my house.”

Michael won’t listen, standing off to the side. “Y/n, I can’t do this without you, please.”

“I won’t let you have the privilege of subjecting my child to a life in this so-called ‘sanctuary’ where I have to hide that her father killed the rest of her family for his own, selfish gain. Get out.”

You can hear Michael starts to sniff as he walks out, “Are you serious?”

You scowl at him, “Do you not even hear what I’m saying past the sound of my voice, Michael?”

You slam the door in his face, sliding down with your back against its surface to the floor and crying again. It was becoming a regular occurrence and you hated it. These last few months, especially the last few days, you’d cried more than you had in the last few years.

You rub at your stomach, tears spilling over, “Don’t worry little one, we have Aunty s/n, and that’s all we need.” It was almost as if you believed the words but on the other hand, you wanted nothing more than for Michael to come to his senses and let this whole thing go.

-

Once you manage to get over the shock of what Michael suggested and stop shaking, you lift yourself up from the ground then dust the backs of your legs off, and move to sit on one of the sofas in the lounge. You flick on the television but it’s all mind-numbing. Nothing can really distract you from what’s just happened. You haven’t a clue where it leaves the two of you but you were trying not to mull over it too much. You found a good documentary to lose yourself in temporarily.

S/N calls, asking if you’re okay. You tell her no and fill in why exactly. She’s shocked but not surprised. “Don’t count your chickens yet. It’s not over until the fat lady sings.”

You laugh, “Thank you for your overused lines of positivity. I’m going to go back to numbing myself in front of the television now.”

*

About an hour passes by and you’ve finished the documentary you were watching, only to cycle through the channels to find something else, coming across what appears to be a movie with one of your favourite actresses. She’s confessing her love for the other main and all you can do is yell at the screen, “Don’t be stupid.”

Pulling out your phone to check the time, you see that it’s almost 6pm. No wonder your stomach is making noises. “What am I going to eat for dinner? I’ll just order something. I better enjoy this luxury before the world turns to shit,” you joke, trying to hide the hurt. You pick your favourite kind of pizza figuring the unhealthier the better.

While waiting for your food to arrive, you’re messing around on your phone, looking through old photos, tempted to delete the ones of you and Michael but you can’t bear to part with them. They hold memories, after all. Maybe not memories you cared for right at this moment when you were this pissed off but once you cooled down then they probably would be.

The pizza arrives after what feels like an eternity; To a pregnant woman, I guess it would. You place it down on the table, go to the kitchen and pour yourself a drink. Just as you’re about to start eating, there’s another knock at the door.

“Oh for fucks sake, who is this?” You mutter to yourself. You open up the door again to see that it’s Michael. Who else would it be?

He’s standing on the step, seemingly a broken man with his hands in a praying position, “I really need to talk to you.”

You point at his hands and shake your head. You mock his earlier statement, “Is this to try and convince me some more about how I should be your Princess of Darkness, Michael?”

“No, y/n, I can assure you that it’s not,” He promises but you’re sceptical.

Regardless of whether or not you believe him, you let him in, “Alright, come in so I can listen to you while I eat my food.”

You two walk back to the lounge, Michael is talking behind you, “I know I’m the last person you want to see but I couldn’t ignore what happened. After you kicked me out earlier, I went back to where I’m staying for a rest and to trifle through my thoughts but I was plagued with visions.”

He continues, “They as clear as you are right in front of me and I had three of them. The first was my life without you and it was so cold. Like an eternal winter. All of the light from my life had gone and you lost our baby. I don’t know how but it cut through me. The second was you by my side with our child at the sanctuary. It was not anything I’d have hoped for. You were miserable and my expectations were not met. These people were not good people. It’s almost like when you have a beautiful piece of fruit but the inside is rotten and tastes disgusting – this is how it was.”

“What was the third?”

He’s unable to contain his smile, “The third was my favourite. The world was as it is except the sun was shining brighter than it had in a long time. There was peace within the world, within us. We were living here; you had given birth to our child.” His hand reaches to touch your face, stroking it gently. “Our child is so beautiful, y/n. They have your eyes.”

You close your eyes briefly, melting into his touch. The old Michael was coming back; you could feel it. You reopened your eyes and he was staring at you with adoration. A question fell from your lips, “What does this mean Michael?”

“It means I was stupid to ever let this get over my head. I know now more than ever what I need to do and it isn’t to drive this world into flames. It’s to be here for you, for this family. To give our child what I never had. I’m so sorry, y/n. Can you ever forgive me? I know I’ll find it hard forgiving myself.”

Your head drops, you’re unable to hold the tears back. Michael pushes your chin up with his fingers. “Please don’t cry.”

“These are happy ones, I promise. S/N and I talked about everything and I guess I understand why this happened. I’m sure anyone else would react in the same way; not causing the destruction of the earth but straying to the dark side.”

Michael gets on his knees, finding his way between your legs to kiss your stomach, looking up at you. His hands were on your belly, guarding it.

“Ever since I saw her face, with her mother’s eyes, I knew what I had to do.”

“We’re having a girl?”

“Yeah, we are.”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sammythankyou @sevenwondr

[evilfairytales]

Star vs. The Forces of Evil Cleaved my Heart (not in the good way)

Okay, so massive spoilers are up ahead, needless to say. And frankly, if you enjoyed the finale, or really Season 4 in general, you’re better off moving along. More power to you, but there’s not much for you here, I’m afraid.

Okay, so I dusted off my old tumblr page here because I just HAVE to get this off my chest. Star vs. The Forces of Evil has been one of my favorite shows of the last five years or so. I like having it on in the background while I write or do other stuff. And I’m still going to do that, up to Season 3. Because I refuse to let Season 4 take my love of the first three seasons away from me. That would be letting it win.

The only other thing I can think of offhand that makes me want to rant like this are the Star Wars prequels. That’s because I don’t like to hate things. If I’m going to spend my time watching or reading or listening to something, I’d like to enjoy it. So even if I don’t think something is great, or even really that good, I’d far and away prefer to focus on what I actually did like about it and try to gloss over the bad things. 

So I tried to like season 4, I really, really did. And you know what? For most of it, I was doing a pretty good job of liking it! There were some very funny bits in there, and some very sweet ones. ‘Curse of the Blood Moon’ in particular was a great episode. I liked Kelly & Marco being break-up buddies, that was adorable, even if we all knew it wasn’t gonna last. I think Pony Head can be hilarious under the right circumstances, and she was in fine form in both ‘The Pony Head Show’ and ‘Queen-Napped.’ 

Right from the beginning, I thought that Moon just being on Pie Island and wrapping that up so nice and neat seemed kind of anticlimactic, but I could deal. As time went on and it became clear Eclipsa really wasn’t planning anything more sinister than getting Globgor uncrystallized, I started thinking that maybe this last season was going to call back to earlier days. Not so much an intricate plot, but just fun adventures with the characters we love. The fact that they seemed to be setting up Mina as the big last antagonist seemed to support that. Ludo, too was one of those cases where I thought they could have done more with it, but he ended up happy, so that’s okay. Maybe he’d help out a little in the end! 

In light of all that, when Star went back to Echo Creek, I was 100% into it. I was feeling it. Again, Beach Day ended up feeling rather anticlimactic, but it was sweet, and I saw what they were going for. We have some fun back on Earth, Mina causes trouble, they go back to fix it...maybe Mina ends up on Earth somehow and we gotta beat her there, whatever. Star probably decides she wants to stay on Earth with Marco, at least for now, the end. I might end up feeling like I wanted more, but I would have been quite pleased with that. 

Then they just decided to set fire to the whole fucking thing in the last four episodes. Let’s start with Mina working for Moon. That was a legitimately shocking twist when it was revealed. And if they had done something GOOD with it, it could have been a great plot point. But seriously, Moon’s ENTIRE plan was to turn Mina and the Solarians loose and force Eclipsa & Globgor to abdicate & exile themselves. And her only contingency plan was a spell to turn the Solarian’s power off that she obviously hadn’t tested. That is a STUPID and DESPERATE plan that puts so very, very many innocents, both Mewmans and Monsters, in lethal danger. It is unlike Moon on just about every conceivable level. 

But you know what? The fact that they just threw Moon’s character into the woodchipper DOESN’T EVEN MATTER, because the situation is just ripped out of her hands almost instantly. Seriously. Imagine if Mina had gathered her army by herself and was acting alone, and Moon really was just there to help. What would be different about the way the plot unfolded? I guess Star wouldn’t be angry at Moon, but she never really DID anything about that anger, so...yeah. You just made Moon a villain for no reason whatsoever. Nice. 

Or was that anger supposed to be what pushed Star over the edge into deciding magic was bad? This. This development, pulled COMPLETELY out of nowhere, was really what made me hate the whole thing. Frankly, this whole bit makes me so mad I can hardly see straight. Magic is bad, and we need to destroy it? When up to that exact moment we’d been using magic, learning about magic, protecting magic, remaking magic, loving magic. 

Up until that exact moment there had never been a single instant where the characters, or us viewers, were asked to even consider the idea that the world would be better off without magic. And in one little fit of pique, Star just turned one of the show’s central concepts on it’s head. It’s like one of those impulsive bad ideas she has that someone needs to talk her down from...except this time everybody, even people who will cease to exist, just go right along with it! 

To be honest, I actually don’t like the ‘In the End, Magic is BAD’ trope in fiction in general, even if it’s set up well. It’s reminiscent of those stories where someone from our world ends up in some amazing magical realm, saves the day, and decides to return to Earth. It’s like the lesson is that our mundane reality is somehow better than an awesome fantasy world. (For the record, if I was the magical savior of some mystical realm where I’d be a hero forever, unless I’ve got the love of my life and/or non-adult children back here, I’m gone. Sorry, friends and family. I’ll try my best to send word so you know I’m not dead, but...)

This time, however, it was NOT setup well. This was GARBAGE. They just threw it in at the last second, and expected us to go right along with it., despite it being completely against the tone of the show up to that exact moment. This is just BAD WRITING. 

Was it supposed to be some kind of allegory for power in general? Because if so, it’s a REALLY shitty one. The people in charge are always going to have power, magic, military, political, whatever. Whoever’s gonna end up in charge of Mewni Creek is still going to have power, whether they’ve got magic or not. The idea should be to use that power responsibly, for the good of everyone. 

So, magic is gone. The Magic High Commission is dead. I mean, I guess they were fiendish villains, even though we had no time at all to process them in that role. So, I guess they deserved it? Even though Moon was at least as culpable as any of them, and we forgave her instantly. Well, again, that didn’t really matter at all. And Glossaryck’s gone. I mean, he doesn’t necessarily have to make sense, and he really stopped being a character in Season 2, so that’s legitimately okay. I mean, it seems like they might have been going for something with him creating the wand and giving it to the first user in the past...that seemed like a thing worth exploring. But then a lot of other things did, too. Like ‘Eclipsa’s’ most dangerous spell. That REALLY seemed like that was going to be a thing. But it was really just Solaria’s Total Annhiliation Spell, and it didn’t really go anywhere. Eclipsa used it, and it was bad, and she didn’t use it again. Guess we’re done with that!

Poor Doop-Doop though, huh? And Spider With a Top Hat, the Warnicorns, the Narwhals...bummer for all of them. I mean, they REALLY fail to make it clear whether ALL magic is gone, or just the Butterfly magic. Admittedly, killing all the magic in the universe seems like a gigantic decision to make for literally everyone...seems like that would wipe who knows how many sentient beings out of existence. And then Pony Head can still float...honestly, it’s obvious the writers didn’t really care one way or the other, so why should we?

But either way, the spells in the wand are all dead, and so is Doop-Doop. Was Doop-Doop a subtle hint that the show’s creators had stopped giving a shit, and so should we? I mean, being voiced by Justin Roiland, he kind of automatically has that ‘nothing matters’ tone from Rick and Morty. And showing up at the end like that, his only real purpose seems to be to remind us that he’s gonna die along with all the other spells. To say nothing of Hekapoo. It’s ASTONISHING how little we’re supposed to care about the effects of what they did beyond ‘Magic is Bad, Stop Mina.’ Mina got slurped down by a corrupt unicorn that also never really got any kind of satisfactory exploration, by the way. 

This was SO BAD. AWFUL. TERRIBLE. It’s so bad, I honestly can’t believe the creators actually thought it was good. I mean, I can see Nefcy & Company being really upset about not getting more than four seasons...that is justifiable anger, and Disney should DEFINITELY have given them at least a fifth season. Were they so upset that they just kind of wanted to torch the thing on the way out? Or did they just not care and they felt this was just the easiest, laziest way to shut it all down? Because I do NOT believe that they thought this was a good finale. I will NEVER believe that. 

By the time the worlds merged, or Echo Creek was absorbed into Mewni, or whatever the hell that all was, I was pretty much emotionally numb. So, yeah, that part’s fine, whatever it’s supposed to be. 

I’m glad Star and Marco ended up together. But that was only one part of why I liked the show, and they were always going to get together anyway. If Starco was literally the only reason I watched the show, I probably would have been okay with the ending. But it wasn’t, and the finale shredded pretty much everything else. So, to hell with it. 

As far as I’m concerned, Divide & Conquer were the last episodes. 

[trashassassin]

How to Smut 101: Getting Over the Hump (heh) and Just Doing It

Hello friends! This little guide comes to you from someone who has literally been creating original stories in some form or another since before they could hold a pencil. So well over a decade. And yet, I’ve only really delved into the land of smut writing in the past few years. This was a genre that I, and many creators I’m sure, were scared to touch. It was too difficult, too embarrassing, too easy to get wrong.

And yet, I believe I’ve gotten a pretty good handle not only on writing it effectively but also dissolving the embarrassment surrounding the subject, at least in my own mind. Obviously everyone’s methods for writing are different, so this will be less of a guide and more of an outline full of things to help you prepare for your jump into the world of smut for the first (or maybe twentieth after a bunch of scrapped attempts if you’re like me) time.

The first thing that really helped me was changing how I thought about smut.

Sex scenes always had this mystical, untouchable quality to them whenever I thought about writing them. They were set apart from the rest of the story, placed on a sort of pedestal, a pedestal that had my thought processes heading places like “alright, now it’s time for the Sex Scene™”. Sometimes I would just throw random sex scenes into a story because I felt as thought they had to be there. Which brings me to my first real point.

Sex scenes must have a reason to exist!

Unless you’re writing a plot-what-plot situation, a sex scene must be in your story for a reason! This applies more to published novels or longer fics, which is why I’m posting it first as this one in particular won’t apply to many of the people who clicked on this post.

Imagine this a bit differently. What if your story was progressing along normally when, all of a sudden, you threw in a random, pointless scene about your characters stopping to get coffee? Nothing plot-relevant happens; no important characters interactions happen; there are no special items hidden in the coffee shop. Your characters just decided that they needed a pick-me-up and sit around quietly sipping coffee for 1,000 or so words. This would be really boring, right?

Well, an unnecessary sex scene is the same way. I’m not naming any names here, but there is an exceptionally popular series of erotic novels out there that makes this mistake all the time! If you have pointless sex scenes sprinkled into your story every chapter, it’s going to become boring and grating in a hurry.

Sex scenes must be consistent with the tone of the story, happen naturally over the course of the plot, and/or teach us something important about the characters involved in order to have a true place. If these things are not present, I find it’s best to reconsider if it’s really best to have a sex scene during this point in the story or in the story at all.

Sex scenes are just like any other scene!

Going back to the whole stopping for coffee analogy, a sex scene is just another scene in your story. Now you might be thinking to yourself, “well, duh!”, but this realization was actually a big turning point for me.

I realized the main responsibility we have in writing is to take mundane, everyday activities and present them in a new or interesting way. Think of an adventure story. A group of characters going on an adventure to find the Golden Sword of Wisdom is the exciting version of you and your friends driving down to your local Walmart to obtain Golden Magnum Ice Cream Bars.

Or, consider the Harry Potter series. It takes going to school, something every person within its targeted age group is required to do, and turns it into a fresh and, dare I say, magical experience.

Instead of simply providing a blow-by-blow (pun intended), textbook-style retelling of a sexual encounter, it’s important to put your own unique spin on it.

Play with your readers’ senses.

A huge part of what makes any scene great is the ability of the reader to immerse themselves into it. And you as the author can make this much easier for them by describing it to them in as much detail as possible, how everything contained within it looks, feels, smells, and tastes.

And sexual scenes are certainly no exception to this. In fact, I’d say creating an enjoyable sensory experience is of the utmost importance.

Consider things like how does your character’s partner smell? How do their surroundings smell? Are there any candles burning, a window through which fresh, or perhaps not-so-fresh, air is streaming? Have their clothes or sheets just been washed and smell of a particular scent of detergent?

Also consider how things feel. Is your character in a cold or warm place? Perhaps you could describe a feeling of goosebumps rising on the skin or of sweat dripping down their back. How do the sheets feel beneath their fingertips? How does the brick wall feel at their back? What is it like to be pressed up against a window pane?

What sounds are present, besides the obvious ones? Is there music playing? A fan going? Cars outside? Perhaps the sound of footsteps are present as they desperately try to keep quiet in a crowded place.

Also consider your characters’ own personalities, as well as how much experience they have in sexual situations. How do they feel about their partner? Are they excited or apprehensive? Are they overwhelmed with love or simply looking to get their rocks off? All of these are important things to consider when creating a well-rounded scene.

Your scene does not have to be vulgar, but it can be!

You may think that every sex scene must be contain levels of vulgarity reserved for professional porn movies, but this is simply not the case. As I said before, take into account the personality of the characters involved. A shy character would not likely use words like “cock” and “pussy”, where as a more bold or experienced character very well may.

And if you’re not comfortable with using such words in your writing, well, now is the time to step outside of your comfort zone! As long as it is appropriate for the characters involved, of course.

But regardless of boldness or levels of experience, some are simply just not into super vulgar dirty talk. This post by Smut 101 is a perfect example of dirty talk of a more romantic sort for the more hopeless romantic types that may appear in your stories.

Keep things accurate but not necessarily realistic.

You always see people criticizing sex in books and movies for not being realistic enough, for not involving vagina-having characters taking a piss afterward to prevent UTIs, for a lack of condoms, for both characters reaching orgasm at the same time. You know what I say to that? I say that sexual scenes are meant as an escape, as a fantasy, and that such realistic touches would ruin the illusion of the perfect scenario the reader is looking for.

That being said, if everything is sunshine and rainbows all the time, you’ll once again find yourself with a boring scene on your hands. It’s alright to include moments where your characters knock their heads together or say something so ridiculous it makes the other person laugh. Sex can and should be fun and, when the moment calls for it, a bit goofy.

Something that you cannot compromise on, however, is accuracy. If you’re delving into a particular fetish or act you’re not familiar with, it’s best to do your research beforehand, something else that the author of the aforementioned exceptionally popular series of erotic novels seems to have neglected. Watching videos, reading articles, and browsing forums can all be useful in familiarizing yourself with the subject.

Even if you’re a virgin, this does not bar you from writing well-written sex scenes, I assure you! If someone was required to experience something in order to write about it, the vast majority of authors would be up shit creek without a paddle.

As with any genre, it never hurts to familiarize yourself with it before you start writing it. Reading highly praised romance novels and other peoples’ erotic fics is a good place to start if you’re looking for inspiration or guidance.

Don’t be afraid to draw from your own experiences.

If you have had a bit of sexual experience, it’s not a bad idea to draw inspiration from this. Remembering specific sensory experiences you’ve had and applying them to your writing can help enhance the realism of a scene.

It’s also not forbidden to include your own personal fantasies in your stories. Just be careful that all of your erotic stories don’t turn out exactly the same. While we all have our own individual tastes and preferences, it’s good to step outside of that to keep your stories fresh.

Some general tips for you as a writer.

Writing smut is going to feel awkward if you’re not used to it. And even if you are used to it, feelings of embarrassment may still come up on occasion. This is normal. Do not let it dissuade you from pursuing your creative endeavors. Even if the embarrassment over writing lewd scenes never fully goes away, it will get easier with time. I promise.

Whenever I’m writing any kind of scene whether it be exciting, emotional, or, yes, lewd, I always like to select some music to set the tone in my mind. Spotify and YouTube are my go-to sources. If you’re settling down to write a smut scene, find yourself a sexy playlist to get your brain in the zone.

Your mood is important as well. Obviously you don’t have to be dripping with lust to write this sort of scene, but being upset, tired, or ill can definitely put a damper on your ability to get into the proper mindset.

Never try to force writing of any sort if you’re not feeling inspired. As that old saying goes, writing is like a fart: if you have to force it, it’s probably shit. The original quote pertains to relationships, but I think it’s pretty fitting here as well. Should this happen, don’t scrap the project entirely. Simply take a break, play or watch the property involving the character(s) you’re writing about, read some of your favorite authors or fic writers, read some guides like this one. And then come back when you feel suitably inspired.

In conclusion...

As I said before, this is less of a guide and more of an outline. Everyone has different methods for putting out their best content. Perhaps listening to music distracts you or the writing of others sticks in your head and hampers your ability to create original work.

And that’s completely fine.

That being said, I hope that you guys found this useful in instilling you with the confidence you need to finally begin writing smut! There can never be too many smut writers in the world. If there’s something in particular that you’d like advice on, leave a comment and I’ll try to address it as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, everyone! Now, go forth with the faith that you can finally do the thing !!!

[arcadeguk]

coterie

coterie; an intimate and often exclusive group of persons with a unifying common interest or purpose

prompt: “sorry i’m protective over the things i love” + “anyone up for tacos?”

pairing: mainly yoongi x reader, appearances from everyone bc i can’t help myself

genre: fluff, angst, dangerous situations (?) it’s a gang au u know what’s up

a/n: outro tear has me whipped and i couldn’t decide who i wanted in this au so it’s everyone. also i love me a badass female lead character wow i can’t wait strap in bitches

cigarette smoke swirls in gentle columns around your face, tickling your nose and trailing the curves of your cheeks. the air smells of leather, men’s cologne, and dark, amber-colored whiskey - the kind that makes your chest burn and heave, but it brings you one step closer to euphoria, to heaven, to bliss. the lights are slow, and fade in between all the colors of the rainbow, throwing fluorescent spots of light onto the shadows that stand, milling around the room. the figures fail to reveal people, better yet black outlines of who they are, with no color or detail - nothing specific to offer. every once in a while, a blotch of violet will drip down the shoulder of a stockbroker from wall street, who’s currently trying to land at least three girls at once. an explosion of turquoise dapples the face of a woman who looks much older in daylight, but tonight, the darkness and her painted face shave 15 years off her life, and she could almost appear girlish to the men who are too drunk to think of their families at home, of the lives they live from 9 to 5. no - here, now, they’re as free as they’re ever going to be - and they know it. so another shot is downed, another sleazy smile thrown, accompanied by a $20 bill, and the night starts (or ends) for yet another pair.

“so, run this by me again, is this a bar or a super secret sex cult? because, at this point, i’m not entirely sure if there’s a difference” you mention, turning your head towards jung hoseok, the secondhand man on this mission, all while keeping your eyes glued on the multiple scenes going on in front of you. hoseok squints at the same tragedy you’re looking at, and sighs, slumps slightly on the bar you’re both seated at, before taking a long swig of his rum and coke. “god, this place is really like a fucking trainwreck, you wanna look away but you can’t” he murmurs into the glass, before taking another gulp, eyes squeezed shut.

setting the glass down, hoseok pulls his sleeve up slightly to reveal an expensive looking watch - one that you can’t remember if he paid for or he stole - he was awfully nimble, having gone from stealing petty change to slipping rolexes off mens’ wrist before he was 20. long, thin fingers adjust the face, giving an open-mouthed sigh once he realizes the time. hoseok glances towards the ominous looking black door at the end of the bar, the same one your precious, darling, hardened gang leader boyfriend min yoongi had disappeared behind approximately an hour and a half ago.

min yoongi was a creature of the night, a beast to be reckoned with, the fear, and yet the pride, of korea. by the tender age of 21 years old, he’d had korea under his thumb, sitting fat and happy in his 14 room penthouse apartment in seoul. lazing on his throne, yoongi could just watch the other gangs (whom he fondly referred to as the “ants under his feet”), as they fought and battled for their dearest min yoongi’s attention, love, and most of all - money. yoongi, however, needed no more allies, as he had found his family early on in life, creating an invincible bond with 6 other boys, who hailed from all over the country, convening in seoul on one unfortunate night, when a parking lot arms deal had gone bad. namjoon described it simply as “right time, right place”. you had always chuckled at this - solid, sure namjoon, who’d nearly taken a bullet that night for a boy he barely knew - a scrappy young man from daegu who was determined to either watch the world burn or lead it as it crumbled. needless to say, the boys found yoongi’s charisma, drive, and steady leadership irresistible, and that’s how they all ended up where they are now - seokjin most likely hovering over a computer, eyes flickering from surveillance screen to surveillance screen, while yelling at jeongguk and taehyung “to shut the fuck up some of us are trying to work”. namjoon is probably buried away in his office, planning the next job, making sure it’s “even better than the last”. meanwhile, jimin, hoseok, yoongi, and yourself found yourselves at this disgusting bar (sex cult? 50 shades thing? really who knew), ordering drinks and occasionally checking phones, watches, exits, lookouts, and doors.

your story, however, had a little more flavor. the gang, the mafia - it went by many names, but to you, it was home. a long childhood floating in between houses and apartments and police holding cells had left you with a very particular skill set, one that wouldn’t be any use of you to you in the “real world”. after graduating, you found yourself in the shittiest apartment known to man, in the (arguably) worst part of town, beating the absolute shit out of douchebag men on the streets who had been wanted by some group for one thing or another, all while swiping their wallets in the process (for your trouble, of course). however, one night, while desperately strapped for cash, you tried your luck at one of the hottest bars in town, managing to convince the bouncer to let you in (you still thank that red bodycon dress everyday). there, you had spotted a certain min yoongi, who had at least 7 models dripping from his elbows, smiling and smirking his way through the evening, making sure each and every person there was aware of the power he possessed. it would be so romantic to say that your eyes locked from across the room, that in that moment, wordless “i love you”’s had been exchanged, and you saw a flash forward of your lives together - a wedding, children, a gorgeous house, with a golden retriever thrown in to boot. again, romantic. but no.

you’d tried to steal his wallet, nearly salivating at the sight of his silver piercings, thick wallet, the diamond cufflinks, and the numerous rings that adorned his thin fingers, fingers that wrapped around a shot glass so deliciously. moments later, you found yourself bloodied, panting, and pressed up against the women’s bathroom wall. firm hands held you in place, one on your shoulder, the other biting into the soft flesh of your waist. the cold metal of his rings cut into your skin through your thin dress, and the urge to rip them off his stupidly beautiful hands and run away with them possessed you. your hands gripped his bicep and shoulder, as you frantically tried to ignore the way his lean muscles rolled under your fingertips, how his body adjusted under the pressure of your hands, or the devilish smirk he threw you under the dim lights - brown eyes sparkling like a kid on christmas morning. he scanned you up and down as he panted, attempting to catch his breath, tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the blood that bubbled from his lip. once his eyes had finally risen, he’d thrown you another world class smile, and spoke, hot breath fanning on your face, “i like you. a lot. looking for a job? or is beating men to a pulp in women’s restrooms a full time gig?”

you had snorted at his offer, and adjusted yourself in his hold, debating between breaking free or grabbing his face to suck it off for all it was worth. “no need to be such a dick” you sneered at him. pushing him back off you again, only for him to try and pull you closer. he rolled his eyes, casting them heavenward before letting the most sarcastic of smirks grace his face.

“sweetheart, that’s the last thing i’m trying to think about right now.” when his eyes settle on yours for just a beat too long, you’ve convinced yourself of two things: he was most definitely made of pure marble, carved by the gods themselves and whatever he was selling, you wanted to buy 10.

jimin whining from behind you pulls you from your reverie, his high pitched voice reaching your ears, and you perk up to listen. “the fuck is taking him so long?” he grumbles, checking his watch yet again and anxiously looking at the door. “it’s yoongi, he’ll be fine” hoseok mumbles, slightly amused by the younger boy’s worrying. “he shouldn’t have gone in there alone, that was his first mistake…” jimin murmurs to no one in particular. “he’ll be fine” you reassure louder, more yourself than jimin, and hoseok throws you a tight smile.

calmness falls over the three of you, a bliss that is soon interrupted by shouts, yells, and yoongi’s hoarse, deep voice croak out from somewhere in the large room, “fucKING RUN”

what happens next is blur of fists, grunts, muffled curses and the sounds of guns being yanked out of holsters. you manage to land several good punches before you even get a look at yoongi - who’s bleeding heavily from one cheek, sporting the beginnings of a world class black eye under the other. your throat constricts ever so slightly at the sight of him hurt, but your heart swells with pride when he lands a well-aimed kick square on the crotch of a man wearing a finely tailored suit. screams and shoves from the crowd block your view of yoongi, and you find yourself fighting at least two men at once, although at this point, it could be be three. you slam one man’s head into the bar, only to turn around and cleverly block another’s suckerpunch. suddenly, there’s a blur of black hair, and your most recent assailant drops to the floor.

“i had that, dickhead” you chirp to yoongi, who turns around with a grin and gently runs a thumb over your bruised and bloodied eyebrow.

“sure you did, babygirl.”

“i’m sorry, did you not see how i practically threw that dude over the bar? i think his eyes are nestled somewhere nicely at the back of his neck now.”

firm hands are placed on your back, and push you towards a door, with a half-broken and dim EXIT sign hanging from the top of it. “stop flirting and let’s get the fuck out of here, hmm?” is hissed in your ear, and you can’t help but turn around and grin at the very obviously annoyed jimin, who’d tried so hard to avoid blowing the cover this whole time, only to have it all go completely to hell. jimin maneuvers you quickly into the crowd of people yelling and filing out, and occasionally glancing behind him to make sure yoongi and hoseok weren’t far behind.

stepping out into the surprisingly bright night after the near pitch-blackness of the bar has you squinting, but it barely takes a heartbeat for you to recognize yoongi’s decked out black mercedes, looking inconspicuous in such a wealthy part of town. reaching behind you, you grasp jimin’s hand and give it a quick squeeze, a gentle reminder to walk calmly to the car, sinking as far into the shadows of the street as possible. jimin clears his throat twice behind you, indicating he understood, and his slowed gait reminds hoseok and yoongi of the same thing. the most powerful gang south korea had ever seen, who’d just come walking out of a world-class bar fight that will most definitely make the 6 am news? no clue what you’re talking about, absolutely nothing to see here.

you pull open the backseat door, freezing once you hear the tell-tale sirens of seoul’s finest, racing to the scene after a frenzied call from a terrified bar owner. you hurriedly clamber into the back seat, face breaking out into a smile when taehyung shoots you a megawatt grin through the rearview mirror.

“your uber’s heeeeere!” he chirps in a singsong voice. he watches as the rest of the boys shove their way into the car.

“could have gone better?” he smirks, and jeongguk giggles from the front seat, an ipad illuminating his face. “you could say that” you murmur, as you scootch over closer to namjoon, who’s stretching and rolling his shoulders.

hoseok huffs as he climbs into the backseat and makes a noise of surprise when he sees namjoon sitting there. “my god, he lives. i didn’t think you existed outside of that closet you call an office.”

“hoseok, i’m about to smack that dumbass orange hair off your damn head.”

“oh, i’d like to see you try, joonie darling.”

“move, asswipes” yoongi grumbles, shoving hoseok and jimin to the absolute back row, while taking his rightful spot next to you.

“as much as i’d hate to interrupt the playful banter, we’ve got a problem here, boss,” taehyung says from the driver’s seat, directing his comment to yoongi but keeping his eyes fixated on a set of officers, who are walking all-too-calmly towards the parked car. “seokjin is looking for an open route, but the police have almost the entire neighborhood blocked off.” jeongguk says breathlessly, fiddling with the bluetooth in his ear, hanging on every word seokjin yelps into the headset.

“they’ve already set up a perimeter, jesus christ” jimin breathes, and hoseok snorts from behind you and coolly runs a hand through his orange midpart, “what a great night for them to finally do some active policing.”

“taehyung,” yoongi’s cold, calm voice murmurs from next to you, and you know the tone well. it’s the tone yoongi reserves for only specific occasions, for moments when he feels like he no longer has control over the situation. for moments when everything could very easily fall apart. for moments when all other variations of himself are dead and gone, when he needs to make a concise, smart decision, when he’s in pure damage control mode. “i don’t care if you have to drive through a fucking mansion and olympic sized pool. get. us. the. hell. out. of. here.”

taehyung swallows, and his hands flex as they grip the wheel. he slowly puts the car in reverse, and makes more room in front. the police officers pick up their pace, and one of them even has the audacity to flag your car down.

“hard right once we get down the street, then just gun it until we reach that weird strip club namjoon goes to. perimeter should end there.” jeongguk orders from the front seat, reading seokjin’s words verbatim. namjoon whispers ‘it’s not weird god” and taehyung gives a stiff nod. yoongi’s hand creeps onto your lap, and clutches your knee through your dress, and you can’t help but be surprised.

hoseok had said something interesting at breakfast this morning. yoongi had stumbled out of bed, sleepy and unusually clinging with you (especially around the guys). as he’d gone to take a shower, hoseok had casually mentioned the importance of you and yoongi’s relationship. and now you saw he might be right: min yoongi really was going soft.

“go now” jeongguk orders hoarsely, and taehyung slams on the gas for all its worth. the car lurches forward, and taehyung expertly hands the wheel, straightening the luxury vehicle in a heartbeat, and it’s screaming down the open road in a second. “police barrier!” jeongguk yelps, and taehyung sets his jaw, driving right through the wooden stands and police tape. yells and hollers of men are heard outside, and policemen scatter to their cars to begin a pursuit.

“lose them now, tae” yoongi orders, gripping the back of the passenger seat while checking over his shoulder at the army of police cars approaching. red, white, and blue light up the interior of the car, and illuminate yoongi’s creased brow. one hand is planted firmly on your knee, the other hovering just above his right hip. his fingers smooth over the cold metal of the gun, and yoongi makes a split second decision. he unholsters the gun, and you can’t help but snort.

“wanna piss them off even more, babe?” you question, unholstering your gun from the garter under your dress. “if yoongi isn’t actively pissing someone off, he isn’t having a good day” jimin mumbles, blowing his bangs away from his eyes as he cocks his own firearm.

“shoot out their tires” yoongi orders, and you can’t help but stare at him dumbfounded. “doesn’t that shit only happen in the movies?” you squeak. 4 years you’ve been with the boys, and this was most definitely the craziest night yet.

“we’re about to find out” yoongi grunts.

he leans out the window, aims and fires, blowing out the front tires of the first car. the car screeches, desperately trying to slow down, and ends up side-sweeping across the lanes, stopping several cars in its wake. leaning out the window, you, jimin, and hoseok follow suit, blindly shooting at the wheels in the darkness of the night.

the loud pops of gunshots fill your ears, the microphoned voices of policemen ordering you to “pull over, now!” sends a shiver down your spine. adrenaline courses through your veins, making you deaf and numb to the gunshots fired back at the boys’ car. you duck back into the cabin of the car, and grab another magazine to load into your gun.

you glance to the side, catching yoongi’s eyes as he looks down at you. he leans down to your level, and catches your lips on his, in a fleeting kiss that doesn’t last as nearly long as you wanted it to.

“having fun, baby?” he smirks, nudging your nose with his.

“being shot at in a high speed police chase in the dead of night, after narrowly escaping a potentially brutal bar fight? i’d say i’m not having fun, i’m having the time of my life.” you grin at yoongi, and his eyes soften ever so slightly, his face relaxing into a smile.

“we’ve got some distance between us and them, what’s the next move, boss?” jimin huffs as he crouches back down into the backseat of the car. the back windshield gives one final crack, before falling apart completely as soon as taehyung hits a bump. the glass shatters, covering everyone in the two back rows of the car. “as much as i’m sure you’ve enjoyed taking my mercedes for a joy ride, taehyung, i think it’s time we really get the hell out of here.” yoongi hisses towards the front seat, but the anger is all smoke and mirrors: he knows one glorious, exuberant fact: tonight, min yoongi, famed leader of the most powerful gang in korea, won.

taehyung responds with a tight chuckle - “got it”, and presses on the gas pedal even further. “quick left on the side street, another hard right on that sketchy alley, and we should be home free,” jeongguk dictates, and yoongi hums his approval.

seokjin’s face appears on the console screen, and jeongguk leans over, long finger stabbing the green accept button.

“now what the FUCK was that?” he screeches, voice high and tinny through the car speakers.

“just a detour, hyung” yoongi hums softly, turning to you with his scrunched up eyes and full gummy smile on display. half beat to hell and juuust escaping arrest, and yoongi still looks drop-dead handsome. how he did it was beyond you.

“well, the next time you sweet precious angels decide to take the scenic route, throw up a warning, hmm? i’ve been sitting here routing and rerouting you guys. do you know how many police radios i’ve been cracking into, playing through my entire “vines that keep me from ending it all” playlist? it’s a miracle they haven’t caught up to you guys, you really need to be more careful.”

“i’ll file that away for later, thanks. can you get us home now? also namjoon, you’re gonna have to pull whatever magic-trick-harry-potter bullshit you used last time that managed to convince that mechanic guy to fix up the benz without going through the legalities.” yoongi says, the adrenaline in his body finally melting into bloodstream. heart no longer pounding, veins no longer burning, yoongi can finally focus on more than one thing at a time, on the multiple boys and things that desperately need his attention. seokjin grunts his agreement, and hangs up, leaving the car in a gentle silence, cushioned by the blowing of wind through the windowless back of the car. some shuffling, an occasional yawn is the only thing that breaks the stillness. then, muffled from somewhere in the front seat, “anyone up for tacos?”

even from the bathroom, your senses dulled by the ceiling fan and thick air, you can hear yoongi’s huffs and yawns. you shuffle into the bedroom, half getting dressed and half watching him. yoongi stands in front of the bed, sighing loudly as he yanks his jacket and tie off, rolls his sleeves to his elbows, and kicks off his shoes. yoongi collapses onto the fluffy white cloud of sheer divinity, phone in hand, lips pouted as he flicks through emails and messages and timelines. you gently climb onto the bed, wearing your most beloved pair of pj’s - one of yoongi’s old t-shirts, and a pair of your fluffiest sweatpants. you settle into yoongi’s side, and he adjusts to accommodate you. you rest your head on his chest as he tucks an arm under you, involuntarily humming when he can feel the warmth of your body begin to seep through his clothes.

he turns his head to the side, planting a long, warm kiss on your forehead. “you kicked ass tonight” he murmurs, and you hum back, eyes closing too fast for you to even think about it. it’s only when yoongi starts drawing shapes on your back - little hearts, stars, “i love you”’s - that you realize how truly tired you are, how warm and comfy he is, and how there’s nowhere else in this world you’d rather be. “so did you” you whisper back, and yoongi smiles, the crescent shape of his mouth pressed to your forehead.

“thanks for always being there. thanks for always having my back. thanks for going with me on every crazy idea i have. i wish that tonight hadn’t been so...”

“intense? insane? adrenaline-inducing?” you finish for him, and he grins. the air between you two falls silent for a second, and the velvety darkness threatens to drag you even further down.

“just always wanna make sure you’re safe”, he murmurs into your hair, hiding his blushing red cheeks in the strands. “sorry i’m so protective over the things i love, i can’t help it.”

you hum, tiredness and warmth dragging you down to inky black sleep. “could say the same thing to you, babyboy.”

right now, yoongi’s sure of three things: he can’t handle that nickname, he’s most definitely about to cry, and he’s really going to marry you one day.

“and to think, so long ago, you were just a cute little thing in that tight little dress, hiding away in a woman’s room just hoping i would walk in.” yoongi says, eyes scrunching and mouth forming into a massive smile as he reflects back on the night.

“shut up, your breath smells like taco sauce and liquor.”

he leans down to leave a loud, wet kiss right on your lips, one that you can’t help but return to him tenfold. you break away, breathless, and take one long gaze into those yummy honey brown eyes

“oh, min yoongi, hoseok was right.”

he snorts, “about what?”

“you have gone soft.”