#but am powerless because you probably need a better reason to tell someone to quit using your printer

[isfjmel-phleg]

Good news: They fixed my hot water!

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 87: Personality Swap

"Gentleman! That is enough," McGonagall snapped and the fist that Harry had been throwing at Malfoy's face came to a screeching halt. "Get off of the floor, both of you."

Malfoy shoved Harry off of him and climbed to his feet, wiping a bit of blood from his nose. Harry winced as he used his sore wrist to push himself to his feet as well, just noticing that one of the lenses in his glasses was chipped.

"My office," she said. "Immediately."

She started off with the air of someone who knew they had complete control, an army captain perhaps, and Harry was powerless to do anything but follow. He may have killed Voldemort but that didn't mean he wasn't still terrified of her wrath.

"Right," she said, once they arrived at her office, "sit."

They did, Harry pointedly refused to look over at Malfoy.

"Enough is enough, gentlemen. How many fights have I broken up this month alone?" she asked.

It was a rhetorical question but Harry knew it had been seven (and that wasn't counting the ones she hadn't broken up).

She sighed and took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes wearily. "I know the past year was harder on the both of you than it was on many other students. I won't pretend to understand your feelings and I won't try to tell you how to process and heal, but this can't continue."

Harry looked down at his hands, concentrating very hard on his thumbnail to try and counteract the way the world felt like it was shrinking in on him.

(Read more below the cut)

"So let's talk about it," she said reasonably.

Harry and Malfoy both groaned simultaneously, "But Professor-"

"No buts," she said cutting him off. "Mr. Potter, you go first. What is bothering you so about Mr. Malfoy?"

"I don't know," he grumbled, glaring down at his finger. "He's just," he trailed off uncertainly.

After a moment of silence she turned to the other boy. "Mr. Malfoy, same question."

"Honestly?" he said.

"That would be a refreshing change of pace," she replied.

"He's such an arrogant arse. Like, yes, you defeated the Dark Lord; great. Thanks so much and all, but can you stop rubbing it in everyone's faces all the time. We bloody know."

"I don't rub it in anyone's face!" Harry exploded because honestly, if everyone could just forget about it that would be preferable.

"Mr. Potter," she interrupted, "Would you like another chance at answering?"

Apparently the fire filling his veins would, "You were literally a death eater!" he exploded. "But you walk around with your nose in the air, acting like you're better than everyone else."

Malfoy inhaled but McGonagall cut him off, "I think I know what can solve this. Neither of you will believe the other unless you've experienced what their life is like," she mused. Then she rose from her desk and went to a cabinet filled with potions, "Here we are," she murmured as she picked up one that looked suspiciously like a polyjuice potion. "Give me one of your hairs, both of you."

Harry swallowed nervously but didn't dare disobey. Malfoy must have felt the same because he plucked a hair from his head and handed it over as well.

"This particular potion is brewed to last for about three hours," she said. "I'll expect you both in my office at that time," she informed them as she measured out two portions. "In the meantime, I want you to go and experience what life is like for the other. I'll inform Miss Parkinson, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger; we'll keep the three of them out of this experiment."

"You can't be serious, Professor!" Harry protested.

"I'm quite serious, Mr. Potter. It's either this or I make the two of you walk around holding hands during every waking moment for the next week."

At least the potion would be over in a few hours, Harry thought glumly. "Fine," he huffed.

"I thought you'd see it that way," she said as she nudged the two glasses across the table. "Bottoms up, gentlemen."

Harry took his and blew out a nervous huff before swallowing it down. It was awful but it somehow wasn't quite as terrible as he'd remembered it being. When he looked down at his hands, he saw that his skin had lightened, his fingers had lengthened, and everything felt a bit wrong.

"Off you pop," she said and Harry finally chanced a glance over to see his own image sitting in the chair next to him, squinting.

"Merlin, Potter, you're completely blind. Give me your hideous glasses."

He rolled his eyes, wondering if he looked as arrogant as Malfoy normally did, but handed his glasses over.

"Go," McGonagall said, "I'll see you in three hours. Good luck, gentlemen." As they started out, Harry could have sworn he heard her mutter, "You're going to need it."

----------

Harry had been ostracized by the school before. There had been times when people hadn't trusted him, when they'd believed rubbish printed about him, and when they'd wanted to stay as far away as they could.

Nothing had prepared him for what it was like to be Draco Malfoy.

For three hours people muttered unkind things under their breath, sent minor hexes flying at him when he back was turned, moved away from him the moment he sat down, had two drinks dumped on him, had a pile of books knocked from his arms, and all manner of other unpleasant things.

At first, Harry had still been angry enough that he felt like Malfoy deserved it. But as the three hours dragged on he started to feel more and more isolated, more and more alone. In all of the time he spent as Draco Malfoy, not one kind word was spoken to him and the kindest thing that anyone did was leave him alone.

He started back about five minutes early, only to run into Malfoy at the staircase. They stared at one another for a long moment before both of them blurted, "I'm sorry," at the same time.

Malfoy shook his head, "I-"

"No, let me go first," Harry insisted. "I thought that the reason you always acted so aloof was because you thought you were better than everyone else," he said, "but that's not why, is it?"

"It used to be," he said with a pained looking shrug.

"But not now," Harry said as he nodded slowly, "it must be lonely."

"Not any more than it is to be you," the other boy protested. "You're surrounded by people all day long who are fawning over you but it's impossible to know who is being genuine and who is just trying to get a piece of you because you're the savior."

As he finished saying that, the potion began to wear off and Harry watched as the boy in front of him returned to his body.

When he felt like himself again, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's not a walk in the park being Harry Potter. Still," he said, "I think it's harder being you."

"I'm not so sure," the other boy laughed, "I think I'll take the animosity. At least I know where people stand."

He hummed, "I think I'm changing my mind on where I stand," Harry replied. "Do you think there might be room to stand beside you?"

A smile flickered across his face before it disappeared, "I don't know, with all of your adoring fans I think it's you we ought to be worried about."

"Maybe you'll scare them away," Harry laughed.

"One can only hope," Malfoy replied.

Harry gave him a little smile, "Could we try again?"

"I'd like that."

After a moment he held out his hand, "Harry Potter, don't believe a word you hear about me, I'm not half of the things people say I am."

The other boy stared at his hand for a long moment before taking it. "Draco Malfoy," he replied, "I probably was most of the things that people say I am but I'm trying hard to be better."

"Friends?"

"Friends."

---------

Day 86: Sixth Anniversary | Day 87: Heels, Make Up, Glitter, Gold

sorry friends, this one's a bit rough. It should really be fleshed out a bit more but I can't today. Someday I'll get back into the swing of things, I promise.

[stellocchia]

Okay, time for another overly long analysis of our favourite green blob with a god complex and traumatized teen!

I will be discussing both the “Trapped in prison with Dream” stream and the “Am I dead?” stream as I think they should be analyzed together, so espect spoilers for those. It also goes without saying that, from here on out, unless stated otherwise, I’ll be talking about the characters and the roleplay only!

So here we go! More under the cut and be advised that this will be a long one!

First of all it’s essential to keep in mind that Dream’s view of his relationship with Tommy is extremely different from Tommy’s. I will be going more into details as the analysis proceeds, but it’s very clear by now that Dream is under the delusion that Tommy’s attachment to him is as strong as his for Tommy. 

We have multiple examples of this, but the strongest one (until the revival stream at least) was back in the season 2 finale when he kept believing that Tommy wouldn’t kill him as he wouldn’t kill Tommy. We also have instances like him saying “exile wasn’t that bad, you had me” and his insistence on them having “so much fun together” that all point to the conclusion of Dream believing their game is played on both side.

Tommy, on the other hand, made it abundantly clear that he despises Dream entirely. He recognizes that Dream actively makes him a worse person when they’re together and he recognizes that he abused and manipulated him along with many others. Tommy doesn’t reciprocate Dream’s obsession in the slightest and actually seems extremely taken aback any time the green man proposes the idea of them being a theme. 

On that last point it’s interesting to notice that the actual idea of them working together (Tommy and Dream vs the world style) is actually something new that Dream introduced with his stay in prison. Proposing they could “escape tigether” when they first ended up stuck there and even more in the two latest streams... Dream’s interpretation of their relationship seems to have shifted from “fated nemesis who have fun together” to “friends”. No, this is not a positive shift, and I’m not framing it as one. Dream’s idea of friendship is as twisted as can be and Tommy has zero say in the matter. 

Now that the introduction is done, let’s get to the actual analysis!

Trapped in prison with Dream

So the stream starts with Tommy trying his best to annoy the Hell out of Dream. Then PussBoy is introduced... 

One thing to point out is that Tommy seems to fear silence and lonliness over everything (as we’ll see proof of later on), so it’s honestly no surprise that he would not be able to bear the silence for too long. 

“The cat is the best thing that’s happened to us” Dream is already sort of shifting from the “me” talk to the “us” talk, which is rather interesting. That also mirrors his “You being stuck here is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got to prison” statement.

Then there is the interaction with Sam where he decided to leave Tommy in there longer in order to solve the issue. We also get a very rare instance of Tommy showing a lot of his vulnerability, talking about exile (though it’s clear he doesn’t know Sam knows as much as he does about exile), which promptly gets ignored in favour of Sam continuing to work on the security issue.

A few seconds after Sam left Dream already burns the new clock. The reason he’s doing it is obviously to keep Tommy in a more vulnerable state of mind by continiously insuring he has no way to tell how much time has passed. All the while acting like it’s no big deal of course. Like his actions aren’t deliberate.

“What if we get out together?” “No, no! Because then you’ll break out with me, I don’t want you to break out with me” Dream already gave a similar proposition when they had just got stuck together and, again, the reason why this is so important, is because it seems to indicate a shift in Dream’s mind between the “me vs you” mentality to the “me and you vs the rest”. 

There is then the whole debacle with PussBoy where he’s killed. There isn’t really much reaction from Dream for it (really, Tommy shows more panic about it then Dream does any emotion. Please people, re-watch that scene and stop using the damn cat as a motivator there). “Look Tommy, I’m gonna get out” is literally his only reaction. That and saying that Tommy is and always has been his motivator: “You motivated me, well, you motivate me all the time”. It really couldn’t be clearer here.

“I’ll get out and, when I do, I’ll get my revenge” (...) “On who” “On everyone who’s wronged me” “Oh on fucking everyone won’t you! You’ll go and you’ll kill fucking... you wouldn’t kill anyone would you? You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t kill someone (long pause)... of course you fucking would...” Now, why did I highlight this whole thing? Well, because there’s a lot to unpack here. 

1) Dream is still fully of the idea that he was in the right, hence his desire to get revenge on “those who wronged him”. His mentality has not shifted at all so we can conclude, once and for all, that his “meek” act during most of the visit was indeed just that: an act. 

2) Callback to Tommy saying he feels like his brain is “wired to be Dream’s friend”, despite having already been killed 2 times by Dream, Tubbo more recently almost dying to him and knowing what he is capable of in general, it still takes him quite a bit to remember that yes, Dream would kill someone, he would hurt people. Tommy still has a hard time admitting to what happened to him and the impact Dream has had on him and he’s not entirely out of Dream’s manipulation (once again, good representation, because you don’t heal from something like that in a month), he is however now better at recognizing it and correcting his own faulty thinking. 

“I have a plan” I did not notice this on first watch, but was Dream’s plan to send Tommy to the afterlife from the start? Or, at least, to send someone there so he could study it? It could very well have been. He’s shown in the next stream that he wanted talk to Schlatt immediately asking Tommy about him once he was back. We can’t however ignore that he mentione that “someone who owes him a favour” may be a part of his escape plan, so that feels rather important for the future once he’ll have brought Willbur back to life. 

So then there is more of fight that start. Dream is getting annoyed at Tommy’s “whining” and tries to make him see things from his perspective (aka “it’s not so bad because we have each other” again with the trying to establish their “friendship”). 

“You don’t have ME, you never have ME, we don’t have each other, alright? I am me and you are this fucking looser who goes around manipulating people and lying to get what he wants” What this is is 2 things: 

1) Tommy recognizing what Dream is trying to do, the subtext of what he’s saying and refuting his claims (hurray for the bit of healing he’s had!)

2) Tommy actually recognizing the possessive side of the claims Dream keeps making. I don’t see this talked about that much, but, to Dream, Tommy is most definitely his propriety, just like Tommy’s disks were Dream’s in his mind (remember that speach? He literally referred to them as “my disks”). I mean, he clearly acts like that’s the case, enphasizing time and time again how he has absolute power over Tommy (I’ll go a bit more into it towards the end of the analysis of the other stream, for now though, keep this in mind)

“Even when I’m in here I’m more powerful then you are when you are outside” back on the theme of Dream’s God Complex I see. He seems to like showing off as often as he can “how powerful he is and how powerless Tommy is” (in Dream’s words from the season 2 finale), though that’s most probably to keep enforcing the dynamic that he already established in exile, the whole thing with Tommy being entirely dependent on Dream. He seems to like that aspect of their dynamic as he has expressed multiple times his appreciation for that specific period of time. 

“If I wanted to, right now, I could just kill you. And the only reason I’m NOT is because of my friends, for Tubbo, because WE need that fucking revive book, alright? That’s the only reason I’m not killing you” well, I mean, we’ve known this for quite a while. The only reason Dream got to keep his last life was because of Tommy’s attachment to his friends. I’ve seen a few people saying that it was specifically to revive Wilbur and, while that may have been an idea at first, by now he had already shown multiple times that that was not the case (even before spending time with him in the afterlife). When he went to “Wilbur’s revival” (the failed one) he showed that he was already incredibly uncertain about wanting Wilbur back (describing him as “not so poggers” in very Tommyinnit fashion). No, the actual reason why he wants the book is most likely because Tubbo is on his last life and we know he can’t live without his best friend. 

“Tommy, I’m never, I am NEVER EVER going to use the revive book to help you or any of your stupid little friends, okay?” So now the question is: was this a lie or a twisted version of the truth?

I’m gonna say the latter and here is why: Dream DID, in fact, revive Tommy. We know this now, it’s canon. But he really didn’t do it FOR Tommy. One thing I want to make clear is this: while Dream may, in fact, consider himself and Tommy “friends” he doesn’t CARE for Tommy himself, not in a way that’s commonly considered as “caring” at the very least. He finds him fun, entertaining and he seems to be rather dependent on him, but NONE of this things equate to caring about HIM. So, now that that’s cleard up, the resons why he revived him in the first place should be rather obvious: 

1) He wanted to see if he could and learn more about his power in general

2) As I said before, there is a degree of dependency Dream has on Tommy. It’s very obvious in the fact that, despite having let go of every other attachment, he doesn’t seem able of letting go of Tommy, not permanently anyway. He seems to actually need to have a degree of control over Tommy at all times

“I will never use the revive book. I will NEVER use it on you, I will never use it on any of your friends, I will never use it to save ANY of you” now THIS one is a straight up lie. What Dream was trying to do here was provoking Tommy enough to see if he’d actually kill Dream or not (which was a useful information for him for later). To see if Tommy could bring himself to do it (he can’t)

“I’ll get out eventually because, either you’ll let me out or... people will be dead” way to be ominous green man! We could assume by this point that his plan to escape may have been along the lines of “getting Techno to repay him by killing one of Tommy’s friends therefore forcing him to let Dream out to bring them back”, or something of the sort.

“This isn’t worse then exile (...) because in exile I thought you had all the power (...) here’s the thing Dream, here’s the thing I know: I don’t think the revive- I- how could I be so fucking...? The revive book Dream, it’s not real is it?” Here is where things start to actually go downhill fast. There is nothing Dream hates more then Tommy questioning his power, there is nothing that makes him angry faster (I’m sure the whole “I don’t give a fuck about Spirit” speach comes to everyone’s mind when I say this, as it should). Dream, as much as he presents himself to be a logical mastermind, is actually very emotional in the way that he is very easily overtaken by anger. He does irrational stuff every time he gets mad, that’s no secret. If he wasn’t already planning to kill Tommy to test his power, this push is what convinced him to do it. Also this is the exact reason why he likes Tommy (weirdly enough, their relationship is so very complicated) in the first place, because he’s the only one who’s constantly questioning him and challenging him. 

As we know the fight escalated and Dream ended up killing Tommy telling him to ask “Schlatt” about the book. Though before that there are quite a few exchanges were Tommy expresses that he thinks Dream is powerless now and was lying about the book all along because that’s generally what he does and Dream keeps insisting that he’s not lying and that Tommy’s life is still in his hands, that he still has all the power (turns out he wasn’t so wrong...). 

Also, last line to analyze from this: “I might as well be a God Tommy! You can’t kill me and I can kill you” pretty sure this is the first time Dream outwardly announces his God Complex and it’s interesting that his idea of power revolves entirely around having power over Tommy specifically. Because, even having power over Tommy’s life he’s still in prison, he stil has no real power of any kind. Everyone on the outside still hates him (aside from the anarchist duo), they still aren’t letting him out. Who comes to see him and what he can keep in his cell is still entirely dependent on Sam and not on him. But the fact that he has power over Tommy is enough to make him a God in Dream’s eyes.

Am I dead?

Fisrst things first, the afterlife part:

It seems that we may be seeing pieces of conversation had at different times. Let me explain myself:

Tommy opens up asking if he’s dead, then he has an interaction with Wilbur that sounds like it could be their first interaction after his Tommy’s death as Wilbur asks how he’s doing. 

We know however that he’s been ther for at least 2 months, probably more considering he seems to have interacted with Schlatt, but Schlatt has been comatose for 3 months. We could then assume that what we see is a sort of very short montage of Tommy’s time in the afterlife.

The next scene we have Tommy asking “How long is left?” (we don’t know what he’s referring to, though it could be to his revival) and Wilbur responds saying that, to the end of the Universe it would be still 8 eons. Then Wilbur asks him to play competitive solitary and they randomly chat for a bit.

New change of topic (probably next scene again) we have Wilbur telling Tommy he’s happy Tommy is there (dead) with him as the tw of them were never good for the server and caused all the problems (which we know to be incorrect, but it was Wilbur’s mentality at the time of his death and it makes sense that he would have kept it). Tommy also has a very clear panic attack which Wilbur generally ignores. Wilbur also says that, if he’s brought back to life, he knows for a fact that the server will be in shambles because, in his words: “I know what I’m like, that’s the issue”. 

Like it or not people Wilbur is most definitely implying that he knows he wasn’t a good person and that he won’t be different when he comes back. Simple as that. It’s also a further confirmation of his self-deprecating nature that brought him to self-destruct in the first place.

There is another pause that we could consider a cut scene and Wilbur is then talking about making a solitaire arena in a couple of months to an exasperated Tommy

Now for the revival itself:

First thing we notice once Tommy is back to life is that he’s most definitely experiencing a sensory overload. He’d gotten used to living in a colorless dimension with almost no sounds (aside from Wilbur’s and Mexican Dream’s voices I’m guessing) and no sense of touch aside from the constant pain that being back on the living plain may be quite ovewhelming for him.

“So what was it like?” Dream doesn’t loose a beat once Tommy is back before starting to ask him questions. He literally sounds like an eager kid who just got a new toy (and I gotta commend cc!Dream for the voice acting here!). The book worked and now he needs to find out exactly to what extent he can use it (the idea of immortality being on his mind as we’ll see later).

“Void, it was dark, it was all dark” “There was Schlatt, there was Mexican Dream” “There’s so many more drugs then just alcohol” “Mexican Dream, he was there, which was confusing, he was loud. And then there was Wilbur...” “(Continuation from below) and then I came out and I was in a long long hole, a tunnel of black and void, not even black just colorless” “When I was there it all felt so real, but so torn apart. It felt like I was in pieces, like I was stomped on” This is our best description of the Afterlife so far. A static void with no colors or viable sensations, with only 3 known residents now that Tommy is not there any longer. A weird reality with a seemingly entirely different set of rules to our own.

“Death felt like my body was taken apart and then put together and then taken apart and put together here. It felt stretched man” “It felt like I was shredded to dust” “No it didn’t feel goo- it felt like I was put through a shredder, but there was no blood, there was no flesh it was just essence, like a powder and I was put through (continues in previous section)” This is Tommy’s complete description of his experience with death and what it felt like. Having to stay for months with this constant sensation it’s really no surprise he would be so hypersensitive to touch.

“Honestly I was kind of scared it wouldn’t work” So, here we got another indication of the fact that, while Dream killed Tommy in rage, having him stay dead was never his intention (despite him claiming he would never use the book on Tommy a couple of days prior). He never intended to severe his last attachment (I’m honestly not sure he even CAN seeing as how dependent he actually seem on Tommy), he literally only killed him because he was mad Tommy would question him and wanted to prove a point, but to prove his point in the first place he needed Tommy back. It’s also probably why he revived him so fast, his weird need to have control over Tommy, which he couldn’t have while Tommy was dead.

Why did he care so much about Tommy not believing him on the book, you may ask? Was it to save his own skin? It’s possible and I think that’s part of it, others being convinced that the only reason they kept Dream alive was a lie could cause his death. The other reason is that he seems, as I said before, to want to shift his and Tommy’s dynamic to an “us vs the world” type of deal, which would require Tommy in particular to believe everything he says.

We can now add being hit at all by Dream to Tommy’s ever growing list of trauma triggers as he seems to have a very vivid recollection of his death by Dream’s hands... also we need to point out their body language in this: Dream is constantly trying to get close to Tommy as much as he’s constantly insisting on getting more information, while Tommy alternates between getting close to Dream and pushing him away (could be he’s both seeking some kind of comfort, but is also very overwhelmed).

“Tell me, one more time: what was it like when you died?” “Did it feel good?” Dream’s insistence and exitment about Tommy’s very obvious extreme distress is honestly concerning, but expected. By now we can safely assume that he doesn’t really have any empathy, I know, bold claim, but is there any evidence to refute it? Any evidence at all? Because, so far, he has shown a distinct lack of empathy in any and all situations...

Another interesting thing was Tommy’s reaction to Dream’s probing questions: while he seemed to get increasingly distressed by them, he kept answering Dream every time with little hesitation only at times adding on things like calling Dream a monster for the way he was treating him. I honestly think this may have been because he was in desperate need of comfort, and having someone to confide into is part of that. And Dream was the only “someone” he had there.

We then get the whole exchange about how time in the Afterlife is different then in the normal plain of existence. I’ve seen people equate 1 day to 1 month, however that’s incorrect. That was Dream’s wrong assumption but, from whet Tommy said, we can guess that it was much more then that. Frist of all, the first month and 18-20 days Schlatt was still awake and he was the one making them keep count. That said, we know Schlatt has been asleep for around 3 months (we don’t know exactly how much as they lost count). Which means that Tommy’s stay in the Afterlife was much more around 5 months then 2, meaning 1 day in the Real World should equate to roughly 2.5 months in the Afterlife give or take. That is, of course, assuming time there moves in a regular way and there is an actual correspondence between Real World time and Afterlife time, which is not a given.

Tommy keeps asking for the people he find reassurance in (at least we can assume so) which, in this case, are: Tubbo, Jack, Phil, Fundy an Sapnap. It’s a pretty weirdly matched group of people but, apparently, they are the ones Tommy seeks out when he’s distressed. It would be interesting to see an analysis of his relationship with each of them, but this one is not about that I’m afraid. 

“Wait shut- shut up! Shut up! Sorry, I’m sorry” Tommy seems to have re-acquired some of his exile mannerism such as being overly apologetic and skittish, together with the lashing out more. None of this are good signs... he had just started healing as well...

“I... I’m a God! I can bring people back to life, I wasn’t even sure that I could, but I can!” Bringing Tommy back to life worsened Dream’s God Complex even further, because now he doesn’t only have power over Tommy, but everyone else as well. And, I mean... at this point he IS basically a God, he’s not even wrong on that. 

“Dream, Dream, listen to me. The things I saw, the things he talked about, the things he said he will and the things he WILL do... do not- promise me, never EVER bring back Wilbur! Please, please, please” In case anyone was wondering this is the exact thing Tommy said on Wilbur. He didn’t say he’s worse then Dream here, but he IS bad news, at least if we trust Tommy on it. Wilbur wasn’t only self-destructive when alive, he was destructive in general. He was dangerous to others as much as he was to himself and he DID hurt people. And this side of him seems to only have been accentuated by death.

 “Do NOT bring back Wilbur. Ever! Promise me you’ll never do that, alright? Dream, Dream, you are nothing, you’re nothing, you’re fine Dream! We can be friends if you don’t bring him back! You’re not even- all the tragedies you’ve done-” and here’s the part that I’m guessing people are interpreting as Tommy saying Wilbur is worst then Dream which is... a fair interpretation actually (considering that Tommy is not a reliable narrator). Now please don’t get me wrong, Alivebur as he was, wasn’t worse then Dream, but he had years in the afterlife to become even more radicalized in his beliefs. There is also the fact that Tommy doesn’t seem to put the harm done against him on the same level as that done against others: Dream has hurt Tommy worse then Wilbur ever did, but Wilbur’s potential harm against others might be greater in Tommy’s mind then Dream’s. That’s the reason why he’s offering something he knows Dream wants, which is his friendship, in order to keep Wilbur from coming back: because he truly doesn’t care about his own wellbeing as long as others are safe. Of course Dream’s response to this is: "It’s not up to you. It’s up to me because I- I have that control” which is very in character for the green blob with a God Complex

“What if, now that we know, we could send you back and you could figure out-” We can see that Dream has an utter fascination with this whole concept and, now that he knows revival works, he has no qualms with sending Tommy back (no matter how obviously traumatic it was for him) to get further information because, guess what? Death is not in any way an escape anymore. He can simply pull Tommy back as he pleases.

There is then the exchange about burning the book, but, as Dream has it memorized, they would need to kill Dream to get rid of the knowledge, but Tommy can’t bring himself to do it because he’s even more terrified of being stuck alone in the cell then he is of Dream bringing Wilbur back. 

“I wanna know about death. We can study it! We can study it together! We can become immortal together!” Again, if there were any doubts on Dream’s constant need of having Tommy under his control, this should dissolve them. There is truly not much more he can do to show how obsessed he is then offering Tommy to be immortals together, especially because we know that the ideal for him would be to have Tommy be completely dependent on him again. To have his favourite puppet under his control for eternity apparently... “I want absolutely fucking nothing to do with you” of course, as we said many times, Tommy doesn’t view their relationship in the same way. Tommy actually hates Dream and truly doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“You owe me your life” “Owe you my life? You beat m-!” Who’d know that Dream had some similar arguments to his apologists huh? But this does show how warped his view of reality is. I mean, he’s fully aware that he beat Tommy to death, but he still think Tommy should be grateful to him for bringing him back. 

“Now you can tell everyone that the book exists, that I'm not a liar!” Dream really went hard with the whole God Complex thing, even going as far as choosing his profet huh? Man’s just on a high horse and will never get down...

“Everyone... is my puppet” Welp, this is the culmination of his God Complex. The realisation that he has absolute power of life and death over everyone else. That he can play with them as he pleases. Also, may I add that, for basically this whole stream, he has used the “soft voice” he tends to do with Tommy whenever he’s trying to get him to comply? Like, I’m mentioining it now because it was particularly obvious in this last exchange, but it’s been there on and off the WHOLE time. 

“You killed me to prove your own point. You could have just showed me! You could have just- this is so evil. This is- this is- this isn’t like before. This isn’t you’ve blown up and- you’ve put me through torture, through pain, to prove a point, that’s fucked! You can’t do that to me... to anyone!” It took almost half an hour but Tommy has finally come to the full realisation of what happened to him, of why it happened and he’s honestly very understandably distraught about it (though it is to be said that it's arguably quite good that he understands that it wasn't okay for him either to be put through that as he tends to downplay his own suffering greatly). He has been through something unimaginable for us because Dream was upset that he didn’t believe him about the book. That’s all there was to it, that’s all the reason for his suffering. Like, he’s not wrong at all when he describes Dream as a monster, that’s literally the only accurate description of him. No normal person would put someone else through this for such a petty reason. 

“You’re soft Dream, you’re soft” Another valid point by Tommy. While Dream IS undoubtedly extremely powerful and extremely clever, he’s also petty, stubborn and childish. He throws violent temper tanrtums every time someone (especially Tommy) disagrees with him and mostly gets away with his bs because he has the power to back them up. That said he hardly ever lost, the only true loss he had was being locked in prison, and he managed to turn even that in his favour! But that’s the think: loosing makes you stronger, it often teaches you a lot and pushes you to get better. He (along with a couple of others) basically never had that. Tommy’s been through literal Hell and he survived that, he knows he can survive that. Dream? He may break at the first real hardship as far as we know!

“I’ll let you free, I’ll let you free alright? We’ll call for Sam, we’ll get him in here, he’ll let you out, but... I’m gonna bring back Wilbur and Wilbur- Wilbur is gonna help me escape” 2 things to unpack here (aside from the fact that he’s using the “soft voice” to say something extremely disturbing again):

1) Dream is, once again asserting his power over Tommy in two ways: by frasing it in a way that implies that it’s up to Dream wether Tommy leaves or not and by confirming again that Wilbur’s resurrection is entirely up to him and that Tommy’s opinion on the matter is utterly worthless

2) He fully intends to use Wilbur as a puppet as well because, as he says a bit later, if he brings him back then Wilbur will be indebted to him

And that’s how it’s concluded! 

My closing thoughts on this are that, generally, Dream’s level of dependence on Tommy seems to worsen as fast as his God Complex. man went from telling him that their story “would never be over” to offering him immortality in the span of little over a month. Tommy is Not Doing Good, AT ALL, but I’m hoping he’ll ask for help this time from other people because he literally cannot deal with this on his own. Wilbur will not be good news, but what he’ll do is still entirely uncertain, it is to be pointed out however that, at the beginning, his frasing at a certain point sounded scarily similar to Dream’s idea of “us vs the world” when he said that him and Tommy specifically are the single cause of conflict. I hope I’m wrong there because the LAST thing Tommy needs is another obsessive God-like individual in his life!

@mysweatymakerstudentworld

[ofmythsandmadness]

touch-starved | d.h.

or...the seven times it takes diego hargreeves to realises he’s touch-starved, and the one time he actually acts on it.

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SUMMARY: diego x gn!reader. an idiot in love, told entirely from his pov as he walks back on a series of monumental moments in his life. WARNINGS: a tad bit of foul language (bc i can never contain myself, jeez). allusion to sexual acts (nothing explicit, but if you know, you know). flowery garbage writing. probably poor characterization. a weird ending. WORD COUNT: 5.7k NOTES: it’s way too late (early?) for me to be putting this out. but after literally driving myself to tears over this stupid thing, i’m forcing myself to publish it and leave it to the world, for better or for worse. it’s...yeah. i hope it’s alright. x

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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THE FIRST TIME HE REALISED WAS IN THE SUMMER.

“Can I say something weird?”

There is a nervous half-giggle that came after the question, like you aren't quite sure how he’s going to take whatever slipped from your gentle, just parted lips. It hangs much longer than the five words you passed to him and he almost forgets what you asked entirely, so hung up on the breathless fashion your chuckle had come.

But when you blink at him and let your beseeching eyes hover over his, he has to let go of the sound and return to the present.

“Sure,” he says dumbly. “What?”

He loses your eyes then and he finds himself following, eager to see what could have lost your attention so fast. His frown digs heavier as you stare at the table he’s leaned over. There isn’t anything there but his harness scattered across the worn wood and a knife in one hand. He’s been idly fiddling with as some show titters in the background, but his weapon (mal??)practices have never been much interest to you before. So...

Slowly a warm smile comes to cradle your cheeks. It rests as delicate as a crashing wave colliding with the great cliffs you had painted once -- like with everything you did, your smile’s a charging force that transforms you entirely and leaves him in awe that anyone could feel something so strongly. He watches with total enthrallment and for once, he’s not ashamed to feel so.

“You have like, really nice hands.”

You drawl the statement out like it’s some kind of joke. Though, the intense look you so briefly shoot him tells him it's anything but. And suddenly he cannot do anything; the knife falls from his hands and clatters to the table and his fingers tremble under your careful stare, paralysed. 

“I-I-”

“-I know, weird compliment, but,” you chuckle again, low and soft. You shrug. “I was staring at them and realised how nice your hands are.”

“Uh…” he doesn’t know what to do with that information. What does one say to that? Is thank you enough, or is he supposed to just force a laugh and pretend like he is not completely ruined by the way you look at his hands? Compliments are not a usual weapon of choice, but when they come from your lips -- Diego can die right there and go overjoyed.

“Thanks,” he mutters, folding and unfolding his hands on the table. “I...never thought about my hands like that.”

You brighten. In a flash of pastel movement you were pressing close, close, close to him and reaching for a fist. He’s again powerless, forced to just watch you pull his fingers in between your own, softly running gentle pads against his bruised knuckles. The touch is cool but he feels his body combust at the mere swish of skin-to-skin contact and he realises,

maybe he could crave someone’s touch.

“You should,” you grin, exquisite under your apartment’s shitty lighting and the flashes of whatever’s happening on the T.V across the room. “You could like, seriously be a hand model or something. Go-orgeous fingers.”

And maybe, he starts to crave yours.

━

THE SECOND TIME HAPPENS WEEKS LATER. 

He’d fantasized about your touch most of the days between it, but the thoughts had been forced to be fleeting and he had avoided considering the way you looked at him like he could actually hang the moon and stars -- and it only ever caught up to him in the ebbs of night, when he couldn’t sleep and just stared at the ceiling, considering what it would be like to really feel you against his hands and not let you slip away.

He so rarely let the sun touch his skin anymore. It wasn’t intentional to adapt a vampire lifestyle -- but between the shifts that let him keep his dingy ‘home’ and the nights he spends racing around the cursed city, trying to do the right thing (or stick it to his dad, depending on the night and how bleary his head felt), Diego rarely catches himself leaving the gym early than eleven anymore.

A fact that seems to exasperate you, and fuels what you dubbed an intervention. Aka, forcing him to wander around the city just barely kissed by autumn’s chilly embrace. And though he did argue against it (profusely, because he’s still that stubborn sonofabitch), he’s grateful for you still.

“I think we need to make this a regular occurrence,” you sing, tossing a smile over your shoulder. You skip several paces ahead of him as you soak in every bit of sunshine the crisp fall air could offer you. And he flounders and watches as he wonders what it would feel like to have that much energy from merely existing.

“I think I’m gonna have to mandate this. I’ll force you to schedule this into your life, and I’ll take shifts off from work so we can appreciate the afternoon sun while we can. It won’t be long ‘til winter you know.”

He chuckles hesitantly, “the sun’ll still be there in the winter.”

“Sure, but barely. And it’ll be cold then! The sun ain’t nice when it’s cold.”

He laughs again, and you join him. And it’s easy -- because it’s you.

“Diego!”

“Huh?”

You stop then, dropping your hands to your hips and glaring at him. Even from several feet away he can make out the infuriatingly adorable pout that puckers your pretty lips and the way he wishes he could go back in time and learn to paint, so he could capture the curve of your --

“--why are you so slow?!”

“I -- I’m not slow.”

“You are too! You’re dragging your feet like I’m forcing you to go to the dentist or somethin’.” You squint at him as the sun heightens his reach in the great blue sky. “Man, are you that allergic to a good time?”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad.”

The pout gives as easily as honey dripped -- that is to say, he adores the treacly sweet and slow slip from puckered lips to the easy smile you give him. Your entire heart’s behind the look just as it always is. You trot back up the path to him and held your hand out to him, wriggling it in the air.

“What?” he asks, frowning through a slow smile. 

“Take my hand.”

“I…” he hesitates again. “Why?”

“Because you’re slow, and I want to make it to the coffee place before next year. Duh,” you drawl, still shaking your hand like one would to a little kid. “Now, come on!”

You pull and he comes without a fuss, dazed as you bumble on about whatever miraculous happenings go on inside your mind. He hardly hears a thing. Every part of his body is fixated on the soft brush of your thumb against his hand, rubbing soothingly -- he isn’t even sure if you knew you’re aware you’re doing it, but he is. Hell, he can’t feel anything else but that.

Maybe your touch could be a tether.

━

HE HADN’T MEANT FOR THE THIRD TIME. Hadn’t planned to make an event out of it, anyways.

“You’re a fool, Diego. You know that?”

Obviously, he responds silently, grimacing as the cloth presses harder into his cuts. That’s why he did it. Because he is a fool. Honestly, that sums up the majority of the things he does in his life. Or doesn’t do, in the case of you.

Is it bad, if as you scold him, he’s creating a list of even more reasons to love you?

“I mean, one of these days you’re going to come here impaled on like, a pole or something and then -- what am I supposed to do with that?” Your tongue clicks like a disapproving mother’s, but your eyes still dance with childlike mischief as you work. “I am not a nurse.”

“Could’a fooled me, with those hands.”

You glare up at him over your lashes, a sight that made his breath hitch. “Quiet, you.”

Diego does as you said -- but not for any bits or for the joke, only because the way you look at him suddenly made his body tremble with the force of a thousand men and all he wants is to grab your neck and drag you up to meet his lips, finally be rid of the burning sensation in his gut that makes him want to ask the most obscene of--

“--does it hurt?”

He blinks, forcing away the images flashing in his mind so he can focus on the real you again. “Uh -- does what, hurt?”

You take that as a joke, laughing low like his horny idiocy deserved such praise. “This, asshat. Does this,” you press harder with the swab, making him cringe, “hurt?”

“Shit -- yes, it hurts! What’s that for?!”

“Had to make sure you were with me still! Sorry,” you hum, sounding everything but. But your grip softens. “You’re lucky. This could have needed stitches.”

Diego snorts. “It’s not that bad.”

“You look like the fookin’ dino from Jurassic Park felt you up.”

“Not that fookin’ bad,” he mocks back. 

“Your accent is appalling.”

“So’s yours.”

You press harder; when he scowls, you giggle, pleased to have won the battle again. 

The rest comes in silence. You stand between his legs, mopping at his cuts as you are often wont to do when he stumbles into your window. And he tries not to think about the way your weight so casually presses up against his torso as you reach to his temple, parted lips just out of reach. He could do it; he could just reach out and grab your chin, pull you in and kiss you with all the fucking passion that made his stomach roil.

But he doesn’t budge. There is no way you want that and he would never push past that fragile boundary without asking, no matter what the primal part of his mind fantasizes. His eyes fall instead down to his lap, staring at the folds on his pants as your fingers graze across his skin.

“There,” finally comes, along with you stepping away. Your distance leaves a cold chill running down Diego’s spine; he wonders if he asked you to come back, if you would. “Almost done.”

“Almost? What’s left?”

The next few moments move like a movie. The ones he only ever watches with you or with Klaus; the cheesy slow-mo romances, where the two main characters constantly dance around in a will-they-won’t-they that usually drives him nuts. Everything is always so slow in them and he usually hates them -- he did hate them. But when it’s his hands cradled in yours and you are smiling sweet and gentle as a honeybee, hell he’d take every single second of those crap rom-coms, if it leads to that moment more.

You lean in and, holding his hands in your own like an anchor held a boat to shore, press your lips against his temple. The slightest sting from the pressure builds but it falls with the blink of an eye. Your lips are cold, delicate, brushing twice against the cut before pulling away.

“There. Now I’m done.”

Maybe, you’re just some kind of angel.

But then, why are you bothering with him?

━

THE FOURTH HAPPENED SO FAST, he nearly misses it.

You pull him in close, examining his clothes and face for any glaring wounds. When you find nothing but dirt and a couple surface scratches, your worried expression melt into something akin with relief; a shiny-eyed, trembling lip smile that deserves its place in the greatest museums.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper, seemingly untrusting of your vocal cords. You sniffle. “I was - I was so--”

“--I’m okay.” It sounds more like a revelation than a reassurance and he repeats himself twice, just to make sure you understand. His hands still grip tight to your forearms, holding you to him in case you would disappear, too. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

You nod and even as you pull away from his hold, you launch. Your arms lace around his neck and your face instantly finds a place to bury itself, right into his shoulder. Your body shakes; he realises that you’re crying into him, so relieved with him being there.

The embrace is short. Too short. He doesn’t do enough to hold your clinging form, only standing there slightly swaying and just barely grazing your back, He considers it too long and doesn’t act enough even when he wants to beg you to never let go again. And when you pull away, you refuse your tears again, sniffling through a smile and asking if he wants some food. But the embrace remained ingrained in his thoughts like a disease; it polluted everything else until everything was you, just you, holding him and wanting him.

Maybe, he was deserving. Maybe he deserved to be wanted. Was that justification enough?

━

THE FIFTH HE ALMOST DIES.

Not literally that time -- no, he’s done enough of that to you. It’s more of a metaphorical sort, making his heart stop as your fingers just graze against his stubble strewn chin, his breath catching on the lump in his throat as he realises yet again that nothing could be more beautiful than your smile.

Diego is not a formal man, nor had he ever really been. Even at the Academy his uniform was almost always somehow out of place or wrinkled or missing a detail. He hates shirts that buttoned all the way up to his throat and pants that have to be pleated that one specific way for no reason at all. If it isn’t important, he wears whatever is closest to him, or his domino-mask-and-leather getup if he’s ‘working’. Hell, the man isn’t even sure he had ever worn a suit outside of his childhood years and Allison’s wedding.

“You look...different.”

He swings fast around to see you leaning against his doorway. You’re all pink cheeks and cheeky grins. Something about the way you look him up and down makes him suddenly want to hide, slip away so you could not see how stupid he looked in this stupid monkey suit clinging to his arms and thighs like stupid plastic wrap. You probably see him as a circus animal, stuck in some stupid performance outfit and told to juggle fire. 

(Honestly, juggling fire would be worlds easier than doing whatever this was, though.)

Slowly, you step into the room, eyes never leaving him. He gulps.

“You look good, Diego.”

He blinks. That is...unexpected. “Y-yeah?” Damn his voice for giving out on him; it comes out squeaky and prepubescent, sounding every bit of uncertainty he feels. “I-I mean, I--”

“--relax, hot stuff,” you wink and his face fills with heat. “You look great. But, your collar…”

Diego glances down only to scowl at the mess of buttons he left around his neck. “Shit, yeah.”

“Let me?”

But you’re already coming to him, though, hands outstretching and delicately folding themselves across his chest. He wonders if you could feel the way his heart beat like there were a thousand drums locked into his chest, or that you knew you smelled like the gods’ ambrosia, honey -sweet smoke dripping from your velvet form. Are you aware how intoxicating your mere presence is?

“Can I?”

He nods dumbly, not trusting his words.

With careful fingers, you weave the buttons together that have been left undone. You then reach up higher, pressing down his collar. 

You hesitate against him, hands still folded into the sharp white fabric. Slowly, one set of fingers unfurl and lift to barely brush against his jaw. It’s a mere allusion to what it would be to have you cradle his face in your caring palms and it only leaves him craving more. 

Your lips curl up too, coloured as deep as the fabric that clings to your exquisite form. Just the tip of hot pink snakes out of your mouth, pressing slyly to the top lip, riling the hotblood boiling inside him right up to the brim.

“What…” the single syllable comes out strangled and hoarse. You’re strangling the life out of him without even moving a finger. Do you know your power?  “What are...what are you doing?”

In hindsight, that’s probably the stupidest question he could have asked.

You baulk and immediately pushed away from him. The fingers glide from his chest and chin and leave him cold. Gone was the confidence you had offered so easily before; he watches, stunned as your eyes fall to the floor, no longer eager to meet his.

“You look good, Diego.” You smile but that time it doesn’t look real at all. “Have fun tonight.”

“Wait, I--”

--you offer a wave and nothing more. Your figure crosses the room and leaves him alone in between the four walls that seemed to press into him without your comforting presence.

Maybe, you could care for him, too. As he wants you too. Is it selfish to think so?

━

THE SIXTH TIME, HE’S ALMOST ASLEEP.

Honestly, Diego isn’t sure how his head had ended up in your lap, or when his body had melted so effortlessly into your own. It wasn’t the alcohol; two beers isn’t enough to kill all of his conditioned issues or turn him into a total sop. It hadn’t even been intentional, nothing about making room or trying to do anything.

But there you are. Your thighs are his pillows and your hands kiss across his scalp, weaving through his hair like it’s yarn to be woven into something beautiful. Once in a while you pause and he thinks that that’s it, you would force him up -- but then you continue like nothing had happened and he continues to lay like a fish out of water across your legs.

Neither of you had talked about the incident before. It was simply avoidance until you both decide to brush it off and move on, forgetting all about the awkwardness. Or, at least, that’s what you silently promised.

But it’s late. Neither of you are thinking. Or, he isn’t at least, when his head slips from the couch to your thinly clad shoulder. And you hardly react when he relaxes even more, silently gesturing for him to use your thighs as a headrest as the movie neither of you are watching drones on. You make some sort of joke, something stupid and it usually wouldn’t be enough to convince him to act so foolishly. But he is tired, and you are you, and it’s all too easy to give in to you.

So he lays. Your hands in his hair. On your lap. Like a baby incapable of even sitting on his own. He should feel unbelievably stupid, right?

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” you mumble, eyes dragging off the television screen to your lap. He barely catches your soft, smiling gaze before it slips back up, but the memory sticks with him long minutes after. “Wish you’d let me play with it more.”

But he can’t bring himself to hate this moment.

He half-snorts, half-laughs because what a funny statement that is. In his state of lovesick, exhausted delirium, Diego hardly recognises himself telling you that ‘you can play with his hair any time you want’.

“Really?”

“Uh…” he had not meant to say that out loud. “I-I--”

“--thanks, honey.” Your hands linger against his temple before stroking down his wavy locks. Honey. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pulls off of you after a short while -- not because he wants to, because he’s guilty to take your loving hands for his selfish needs. He claims the bathroom excuse and leaves with his head floating in the clouds. The domestic bliss you offer him wasn’t something he thought he wanted, before -- but every time he leaves your bubble, he finds himself more and more starved for your touch.

He leaves your place high on your smile and still stuck on the way you combed through his hair. Even after pulling away yet again, he’s still happy and actually hopeful.

Maybe, he could actually have this, more than just one random rainy night. Maybe he should try.

━

THE SEVENTH TIME, HE ALMOST KISSES YOU.

Almost, because he, Diego ‘number one himbo’ Hargreeves is a self-labelled idiot who loses all cognitive abilities and brain cells when he lays eyes on you, and fails to be able to use them for all the time you’re around him.

And it’s the moment when he finally fully comes to realise the extent of his overwhelming, absolute adoration for you.

He’s never been so bad with that sort of thing. Before he could throw an easy smile and wink his way into a heart he’d no doubt break the following morning and pull a quick-run attraction like it wasn’t anything. But with you? The idea of even your touch turned him bashful and running for the hills, you know...like an idiot.

It takes you pulling him along every single time for him to react and even then, it’s never enough. You’re always left with a pouting lip and that strange, far-off look in your eyes that tells him he’s screwed it up all over again. Every time you get close he’s too blind to react the right way.

Your head on his shoulder, the world’s at peace. He wants you to stay by his side forever. He’ll hold you as long as you want -- hell to his arms, you’re worth the ache or the crick in his neck from bending the wrong way. He’ll let his body waste away and his mind turn to cobwebs if it means an eternity on your balcony, wind in both of your hair and your hands interlacing between his own.

“This is nice,” you murmur. “Yeah?”

He nods. His chin bumps awkwardly against the crown of your head, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I don’t normally like the quiet. But it’s nice like this. With...with you…” you hesitate on the last syllables and the ‘you’ comes out thick and garbled. But he gets it anyways, and somehow he has the emotional strength to pull you even close to his hulking frame. You’re very close to sliding onto his lap and he’d be lying if the idea to just go all the way doesn’t spring to mind. But he doesn’t move.

“It’s nice, knowing you’re here. Safe, alive...with me.”

Diego smiles into your hair. “It is nice.”

Aaand the ‘most obvious statement of the year’ award goes to him. Yet again. Why do you put up with his thick-headed responses? And why can’t he explain the fuzzy feeling in his throat that he gets from being near you, and the desire to give up everything else just to exist by your side? A simple ‘yeah’ doesn’t cover that and he knows that, he knows he has to tell you the entire adoring truth but --

“I like being around you, Diego. You know that, right?”

If he’s being honest...he can’t really believe that. The idea that someone like you enjoys his company is a farfetched concept. But his head bobs up and down again anyways. 

“I, uh...I like our friendship.”

Did you -- did you just friendzone him?!

Did he really just --

“--but sometimes…” you snort out a derisive laugh, “sometimes I wish we were a bit more. Y’know?”

He shifts his weight on the chair and stares down at you, unsure what to make out of any of it. “I - uh - whatdoyoumean?”

“I just, I think we’re good together.” You move too, so he can finally see the pretty way the moonlight bounces off your irises. You’re smiling, and he can’t help but smile too, hopeful and eager as a puppy would be. “And I want to, just...man, I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard to say.”

Vaguely, Diego hears himself respond with a grunt (it’s meant to be an ‘it’s okay’, but apparently English isn’t his strong suit).

“I just like having you around. A lot, if that’s not obvious. I know I’m, heh, kind of a lot sometimes. And I’m trying not to be so uh, affectionate because I know that’s a lot for some people and I never want to overstep, or--”

“--you’re not,” he says quickly, finally finding his voice after oceans of gaping. “I like you being affectionate. It’s nice.”

Your smile grows. “Okay, that’s good.” You hold his fingers a little closer and he’s on cloud nine, staring at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the modern world. “Because if I’m being completely honest here, I don’t want to stop. I...I like you. Generally, in the sense of, more than just friendship. D’you get what I’m saying here?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t want to read into things too much, but I can’t stop myself from feeling really strongly about you. And I don’t want to go on like this, without telling you I’m like, head over heels for you at this point.” You blink up at him, pleading for him to not let you down as you finish with, “is there any way you feel the same?”

What Diego should have done, and wanted to do, was to tell her exactly how he felt, and pull her to him and pull the most cheesy, most cliche Hollywood moment in all the world. He’d finally get the girl in the moonlight as the stars sing above him and the world sleeps below and it would be perfect.

What Diego actually does, is leave.

Cold, and alone, with no hand to hold and no head resting on his shoulder. He leaves you bewildered and probably pissed off and he leaves with no explanation at all -- just a garbled sentence or two that adds up to nothing. He drops his shattered heart at the door and wanders  home shivering and hopeless, knowing he has just fucked it all up.

As he stares at the sidewalk and plods down the street like a lonely, hard down soul, Diego wonders if he’s deserving of your touch. If he was allowed to open up and feel your affection so strongly as you give it. He wants to like you would probably never believe. He wants to hold you and he doesn’t want to let go again. He’s starved for your touch and he’d trade the sun and stars to keep you by his side, no matter the costs.

But you’re worth more than him. Shouldn’t you offer your heart to a better, kinder man? To someone who knows how to hold you properly, and offer his touch right back? Not someone who shivers away or rejects your kindness like a parasite. But someone brave enough to feed you with all the adoration you’re worthy of. Shouldn’t he be who you seek?

Maybe, Diego muses, the universe is wrong, and the mistress is nothing but a cruel meddler too eager to break his heart.

But maybe, it’s his own fault, and she’s not cruel at all.

His pace quickens a beat, and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

━ 

DIEGO’S LIKE NINETY-NINE PERCENT CERTAIN THAT NO ONE, no one living soul, had ever said that the eighth time was the charm.

But if he had to be the first, hell he’d ring that bell a thousand times if it got him where he had to be.

He’s running like a madman. And he’s not drunk, even if at least five people have grumbled that about him -- no he’s as sober as the day he was forced into the world. He’s made a thirty-minute walk of hell into somehow a twelve-minute dash through the cold streets of their shitty city and he feels like a god, if gods were desperate sonofabitches who never knew how to acknowledge their feelings until it’s too late.

He takes the stairs, too high on adrenaline to wait for the elevator. He gasps and huffs and pants his way up but he makes it and keels down the hall to your door, falling against it with all his weight. It’s a foolish move but in his defense...his legs are about to give out, and all the energy he’s devoted to this half-baked, foolish, love-drunk plan is very quickly running out.

He pounds against the door weakly. “Hello? Hello? I--” 

and then he literally crashes into your apartment.

You both tumble to the floor with a loud thud-thump and he’s so glad you have thick carpeting because he could have probably split your skull right open with the fall. He’s smart enough to roll, so he cushions your upper body with his, but you still groan as you make contact with the floor. His entire bone structure quakes at the feeling of ground hitting him and even with nary a breath in his throat, immediate guilt floods his system.

He falls back and silently screams, wishing he had more tact than this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he offers with a smile. He quickly props himself up over your body and tries to look as sorry as he truly feels, though it’s hard as his breath still won’t come and he’s still absolutely exhausted from running all this way.

Why did he do all this again?

Oh, yeah.

“I-I love you,” he spurts, followed by him rolling off and promptly falling into a coughing/choking/hacking fit.

You lay beside him, silent and stunned. He can’t see you as he coughs but his mind tries to put the pieces together, and none of it looks good. You’re probably annoyed, and mad that he’s even there so late and after what happened before, and you’re probably tired, and maybe sad, or hurt, or uncomfortable because you just jumped from friends to him admitting he loves you and --

“-did you seriously run all this way and body me, just to tell me that?!” 

He pulls himself together long enough to breathe and then turn so he can stare at you. You’re still beside him, body still pressed against the floor (possibly broken after having a much larger man knock you over, who knows) and you’re…

“You’re smiling,” he responds, like it’s the most shocking thing in the world. “You’re - why-”

“Last time I saw you, you were running out of my place like your ass was on fire. And now you come here, knock me on my ass, and tell me you love me?! Diego...uh...wow.”

Diego just stares back at her. He’s still struggling to breathe and if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he can function after any of this. He just wasted so much of his courage (something he’s never been good at keeping stock of) on just getting here, how is he supposed to collect himself and head out the door with any sense of dignity? Or answer you in any way, shape or form? How is he supposed to even move when you’re looking at him like that?

Wait, you’re...you’re looking at him like that. Smiling, doe-eyed, honey-sweet and beautiful even after being violently collided with and forced to your shitty carpet…

“I love you,” he breaths, soft but still sure. He grins back at you and he feels like an idiot but he holds strong. “And I’m really sorry about before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just, all this stuff is stuff I’ve never done before, and I--”

And without another word or even the chance to think, your lips are on his.

Well, they probably were meant to be. What really happens is with a grunt and a swift push, you shift over to him and move to kiss him, only you’re both still smiling and absolute idiots who then just bang teeth against teeth. And you’re left groaning and keeling back, both gripping your mouths while still smiling and,

Ohmygodthisisamessbutohmygodishesohappyandinlovewithyou.

“I’m so sorry,” you groan, muffled behind your hand.

“Me too -- for knocking you over, too!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckle, and lift up again. You hover above him. His nose just barely brushes against yours and he’s straight back into heaven again, even as the embarrassment floods and his teeth ache. “I mean, I would have preferred a bit more warning, but...at least you don’t hate me.”

Diego grins and lifts his hand to push a tendril of hair behind your ear. “I could never hate you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes and shove at his chest. His heart beats even faster. “Like I could ever hate you.”

He lifts his head, trying to pull himself up to meet your lips, but you dart away just enough so he can’t. “Can - can we try this again?”

“Mm…” you pretend to consider his request like one would a business proposal. Your thighs tighten their grip around his stomach and a part of him just wants to pull you in and act as his heart pleads. But, given the last time he did that...and the last time you did...he’ll take this slow.

Instead of answering, you lean down and press your lips to his. It’s gentle and leisurely, but he takes every motion in stride. You’re everything he expected and more. Soft petals of reddened flesh against his, your hips just barely grazing against his own, making him want to pull you into his body and never let you leave his side. He’s jubilant and exhilarated and he almost laughs like a baby as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip.

“If it isn’t obvious,” you breathe as you pull away, “from the way I let you tackle me to my floor,”

“I’m really sorry about that,”

You pull his hand up and intertwine your fingers, shaking your ‘head’ no. “I love your touch-starved ass too, Diego.”

“Good, cause this would have been--”

“--no more talking, chatterbox. Just kiss me and shut up.”

And he lets go of the maybes, and just loves you.

SECOND A/N...this ending is just ackwa!?!hiwogh. very annoyed with how it went, but if you know me, you know i suck at conclusions in every sense of the world and i also always leave them to the very last minute, meaning i’m typing this note as i read over the ending and hate it even more. and i’m sorry for the vague messiness of this! I had an idea, failed to deliver it the way i wanted, and a cool thought turned into a half-baked fic. thank you to those who read this, sorry’s also extended your ways because i know this isn’t fantastic. lmao.

- xx 

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🗣Tues 15 Dec ‘20🙊

Anyone order their daily with EXTRA DISCOURSE today? Lucky you, I guess, I'd send it back to the kitchen if I had the option but this is more a 'you'll take what you get and like it' kind of establishment so here we are! EAT UP we got Liam and Lou Teasdale making everyone mad, Louis and Harry's teams forgetting they're supposed to be mortal enemies, and Zayn?? Getting papped?? Omg is Z3 really coming this time? I've been burned so many times before (flown too close to the sun) but what if....... So first Gigi and zaby stroller were papped, then Zayn was papped in his usual way-- 'if you can get a good picture of me in the seconds it takes me to walk from my front door to the car have at it, that's exactly all you get'-- and then a fan reported seeing Zigi and zaby at a pizza restaurant. Zayn's hair is bleached white blond and that's about all I can tell you except that Z NEVER gets papped (or spotted really) for nothing so I am excite!!

Liam's back! He did the postponed-from-last-Tues hour long live for Stand Up To Cancer (and raised $16k!) and he's got a show in two days so I'd say his extremely brief breather is probably done with, whether he got the time he needed to be happy about coming back or not. He seems in good shape for the live though, even if he does say “its been a really long day, you don't even know, REALLY long” and that what he wants most for Christmas is “to have a little bit of time to reflect.” But he says he is going to take some time out and go away and write music “for the first time in a very long time,” in the new year, nice! He mentions how he went up to Sweden for recording recently and says it ”went really well I'm really really excited” about the new music and, uhhh, “got something sent through from Mick Fleetwood while I was over in Sweden writing, some guitar stuff, which was amazing, and he was dressed like santa at the time!” I...what??? I'll just... leave that there?? About other bands, he says that he's become a big fan of the Wanted over time, that “someone Zayn-ed out,” of Little Mix but “Zayn left for pretty much the same reasons and I do feel for them,” and “are 5SOS still together? Did they pull an us I thought they pulled an us?” He said yes, it's so great about Louis' show, and “it was great, and do you know what, like listening through those lyrics, it’s really nice to hear the truth in his music because obviously I mean I know all of the full story about him, and [pause].. and uh... his relationship with his girlfriend and whatever else,” SKLDYSSKKJ.

This long live also had him responding to screen comments he would usually ignore (though thank GOD he only reads but doesn't answer 'what happened with Niall in Japan' please tell me the questioner wasn't trying to get him to comment on the 'violently masturbating' story), anyway so we got Liam on touching his hair if larry is real-- “of course that's not going to happen don't be silly,” and on whether he thinks 'larry is disrespectful' “sometimes I do... actually that's not true, all the time I do.” Well he's not wrong though I'd expand that to 'all the fans' but if I had to wade through a million “touch your nose if larry is real” comments every time I was promoting my own material, for ten years, I'd probably get tetchy too! He didn't say it was or wasn't real, as he himself pointed out he never WILL do that for REASONS; tbh I'm with Liam can people PLEASE stop being so embarrassing on main and let him live? ANYWAY, moving on, his Advent Alarm clock today is the sleep story edited down to be just Liam laughing for like 30 seconds, aka the exact edit that I suggested they should make a couple weeks ago, which I find frankly extremely alarming (ALARMing HA) are they... listening to me?? Well if Liam's management are looking for ideas BOY HAVE I GOT SOME FOR THEM hit me up fellas PLEASE.

Harry and Louis both announced further postponements of their UK and Europe tour shows, like really the same announcement and just fully back to back, I can only assume that after weeks of intensive hashing out to match up dates their teams have arrived at some kind of plan and were like cool let's announce! Louis has added some new shows, while Harry's new schedule is undisclosed as yet. Harry says “I really hope to play these shows and will have news for you in the new year on when they will take place.” Louis' new dates include previously omitted countries (Iceland! Austria!), and those tickets go on sale Friday. Harry did not respond to Rob Sheffield's awkward attempt to link Watermelon Sugar and WAP as being similar but he did like Megan Thee Stallion's post celebrating her successful year, and Vulture ranked Adore You in its top 5 videos of the year with a much better take on what Harry is all about, saying that it “highlights one of the singer’s best traits: his willingness to be delightfully weird.” Kid Harpoon said that he and Harry “wrote a song in Japan that may yet see the light of the day,” and Harry continues to roast him, disputing his songwriter of the year award-- “they found 8,000,000 opposing ballots in a bin behind his house! FRAUD!”

And last but most discourse-y-est of all, The Sun made waves today, pulling the most salacious parts of a Lou Teasdale interview with the Sex, Lies and DM Slides podcast from last week and bringing it to wider attention. In the interview she talked at length about systemic discrimination against women working in the music industry and her own work experiences, which naturally include (very briefly) touching on her highest profile job- the years she spent traveling with 1D. In this context she says “you kind of can’t sleep with them [the band]- it’s quite important to keeping your job... some people would come in and like you know assistants and stuff and I think they would really think... that it was love and obviously it’s not,” and “it’s just the quickest way to lose your job- because then they’ve got a new girlfriend and she’s there and they don’t want you in the room.” She did not sell her story to The Sun she mentioned this in passing as part of an interview about her work experiences; she herself says, “I didn’t do an interview [with] the sun. I’ve never done that. I did a podcast with friends about loads of things.”

There is nothing remotely unlikely in this story, either in the concept that members of the band slept with girls casually (we know that certain of them did and there isn't even anything wrong with that in a situation of consent, the denial of it is as bizarre as scribbling out the beer bottle in a 28 year old man's hand), or that low level members (“assistants and stuff”) of the 150 person+ crew appeared and disappeared on a regular basis. The band were, to my guess, probably simply not paying very much attention to the serious ramifications of this carelessness and the consequences rather than demanding that people be fired, but I do very much hope they've learned over the years to be responsible for the kind of power that they have over other peoples' lives (something I really doubt they understood the extent of yet as very young people being dragged from one place to another who felt powerless themselves).

[imagine-that]

Good for you

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: angst? Anger? Idfk, breaking things, rage ig.

( A part 2 to White Horse )

AN: I didn’t have this one planned as a part buttttttttt I heard the song and I had a Loki’s perspective idea for this fic and I just started writing it and now it’s finished andddddd I kinda like it even more than I liked White Horse 😊😊 here’s the song if you want to listen while you read or whatever ❤️❤️

Loki glared up at the ceiling, staring up at the art of a mural painted over the surface for what seemed like the thousandth time that day alone. He showed absolutely no desire to do much else lately, not unless visiting Heimdall counted as something to do, but he never did that just for the purpose of chatting.

Since you’d ran away, he was even worse than he was before. He was cold towards anyone who approached him, he snapped at the very slightest of things and he spent his days obsessing. Obsessing over where you were, what you did, who you were with. Essentially, if it had anything to do with you, he demanded to know even the smallest of details.

For whatever reason, he didn’t dare go down to Midgard to look for you. Heimdall believed it was because he only worried for you and somehow deep down he knew this was better for the both of you but he kept this theory to himself, not wanting to further enrage the god.

“Where is she/he/they now?” Loki barked as he walked through the gates, not bothering with a normal greeting.

“Y/n is just out for a coffee your highness, there is not much to say from the last time you asked.” Heimdall said simply.

Loki shakes his head with a cold laugh. “And? Who is she/he/they with then? Midgardians typically go for coffee in pairs. They use it as a date.” He sneers, glaring just at the thought.

“It seems that she/he/they is with another person yes.” Heimdall says, hoping it won’t send Loki over the edge to hear.

“Of course.” He mutters under his breath, storming away without another word to Heimdall, his brain flooding with an overwhelming amount of memories with you, making his jaw grind as it tightened.

Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world

His thoughts were plagued with the idea of you with another, your hand held in someone else’s, your laugh being another persons treasure. It filled him with an envy as green as his cloaks, his blood boiling at the mere idea.

He stormed through the throne room, ignoring his fathers shouts of anger for the interruption, ignoring Thor’s cries of concern and heading straight to the only place he felt he had left of you; your room in the palace.

As angry as he was, he gently shut the door behind him rather than slamming it, not wanting to disturb the peace in the empty room.

To others, that was exactly what it would look like; an empty and vacant bedroom waiting to be used. But to him it was the last place he’d seen you, the last time he’d ever seen his one true love was in this room and he couldn’t handle the idea that it could be the last time ever.

He glanced at the photos you’d left decorating your dresser, the only sign that this room was ever once used for anything more than a guest room.

He stared at one of the photos with a blank stare, grabbing it off the dresser and looking down at your still smiling face intently, as though if he stared long enough, it would pull you right out of the photograph and back to him. But then he flashes back to the last night you two had been together, the way he’d been so blinded by his love for you that you’d managed to deceit him and he cried out in anger, tossing the frame across the room where it smashed as soon as it hit the wall.

He was breathing heavy, collapsing down to the ground on his knees.

He remembered Heimdall telling him that you had been seeing a therapist, coping much better with the trauma he’d put you through when you started seeing the professional. Despite his love for you, he was jealous beyond belief.

He was a god, he was good looking, he was a prince. He should be the one thriving without you, so he thought. But instead he was the one falling apart at the seams.

And good for you, I guess that you’ve been workin’ on yourself

I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

He cried out again, anger filling his entire body with a hot rage.

Thor slammed the door open, rushing over to his brothers side. “Brother, what is the matter?” He asked, crouching down beside him.

Loki laughs humourlessly. “What is the matter? WHAT IS THE MATTER? The one person in this world who has ever chosen me over all else, who has ever loved me unconditionally has ran off into the sunset, probably with a mere mortal. And I am at fault for it. That, dear brother, is what is the matter.” He growls, a sad smile painting his lips.

“Y/n will return brother, at which point you may apologize for the problems between you two.” Thor assures him.

Loki scoffs, looking up at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Dare not speak her/his/their name brother.” He warns, his jaw stiff again.

Since your departure, the only person who’d said your name was Heimdall. Not even Loki himself could bring himself to say it, the pain still too raw.

Well good for you

You look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

“It will happen Loki. Give it time.” Thor says again, ignoring his brothers threat as he rises to his feet, patting Loki on the shoulder sympathetically.

Loki doesn’t move, stays in his spot planted on your floor, surrounded by his memories while Thor leaves.

He pulls himself up, but only to let himself lay on your bed rather than looking so pathetic and powerless on the floor, feeling he at least deserved that much dignity.

“Dearest I miss you.” He murmurs to no one, staring up at the ceiling once again, this time not quite glaring. The intricate golden and silver designs on your ceiling were more delicate, softer than the ones in his own or in any other room in the palace really.

“Loki I don’t need my own room in the palace. I have yours! That’s plenty enough for me.” He could practically hear your voice, your hesitation at staying in the palace officially due to the royalty part of everything fresh in his mind as though it were only yesterday and not three or so years ago.

Now you were probably off living your dream Midgardian life, something that was completely beyond him in your eyes apparently. He could almost see you, walking around in the streets on Midgard, savouring everything you saw, smelt, tasted. From what Heimdall had said, you were perfectly content being so ordinary.

Good for you

You’re doing great out there without me, baby

God I wish that I could do that

He hated thinking of you, every moment he did was a moment he had to spend missing your presence. In yet another fit of rage, he threw a crystal vase at the door, the shattered pieces spreading across the floor.

He forced himself to his feet, making himself leave your room, abandoning the broken items as he simply walked around them, slamming the door behind him. He’d already disturbed the peace in the room just by being there, he knew, and to think otherwise would be foolish and stupid.

“Prince Loki, are you alright? I heard something break and it sounded as though it came from your room.” A young maid asked as she approached him, worry apparent on her face. Loki recognized the girl as one who had been crushing on him for years, one who often made you bubble with jealousy whenever she was around.

He smirked at the girl, a new idea popping into his head, one that would surely have hurt you as bad as your leave had hurt him.

“I am alright, I slipped and knocked down a vase, that is all.” He explained, trying to regain his usual charm and confidence.

The girl nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I’m so glad.” She says, batting her eyelashes his way in a manner he was sure she thought was attractive to him. He ignored it, focusing on his goal.

He grabbed the girl and pulled her into his room, shutting the door and pushing her up against it, wasting no time as he attacks her lips with his own. She lets out a gasp of surprise but immediately returns the gesture, kissing him hard. He holds her at the waist with one hand, going to cup her face with the other but opens his eyes for a mere moment and is suddenly seeing your face.

He blinks harshly, until it’s the girl standing in front of him again, watching him with a confused pout. Just as she’s about to speak, more than likely to ask if he’s alright again, he pulls the door open, shoving her out and closing it behind her, his eyes wide as he runs a hand through his hair, breathing heavy once again as he falls to the floor, his back against the door.

“Loki she was staring right at you! She’s practically in love with you! And I’m standing right there and she still makes googly eyes at you!” You had scoffed whenever the maid was around.

He so badly wanted to be able to laugh about your jealousy towards a girl who meant nothing to him compared to you, whose name he couldn’t even remember. He wanted to caress the side of your face, the pad of his thumb to your lips while he reassured you that he was all yours, no one else’s. But he couldn’t turn back time, this he knew.

“My love I’d give anything to get you back to me.” He chokes, starting to sob into his lap.

I’ve lost my mind

I’ve spent the night

Crying on the floor of my bathroom

He spends the whole night there, leaned against the door, getting nothing but an hour or so of sleep. The next day, he uses a simple spell to make himself appear fine, not able to bear the embarrassment of others seeing him breaking down like this.

He ignores any castle staff onlookers, going on in his stride straight back to the bifrost, following his newfound unhealthy routine.

“Prince Loki I must advise you as to how toxic this is becoming for you.” Heimdall warns him, letting out a sigh as Loki holds up a hand to silence him, watching expectantly for an answer to his unasked question.

“Y/n has been settling into her/his/their new life. She/he/they is starting a Midgardian job today.” Heimdall finally explains, giving up on his attempts to preserve Loki’s feelings.

“I see.” Loki hums to himself, the gears in his brain shifting.

“Was that all?” Heimdall asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Send me there.” Loki says suddenly, looking over at Heimdall for the first time in all of his many visits. Heimdall looks back in slight shock.

“What do you believe that will accomplish your highness?” He asks, trying to fight Loki on the matter respectfully.

“I need to see my love there, happy. I need to see it for myself.” Loki responds simply. Heimdall glances at him once more, nodding as he knows he’d never be able to talk him out of this idea. He tells him where exactly he’d be able to find you reluctantly.

Heimdall opens the gates wordlessly, sending Loki on the way down to earth. Loki arrives, dusting off his clothes as he uses another spell to make himself appear completely different from usual.

Though he’d only spent a brief period on Midgard, he knew his way around well enough that he could find the address Heimdall had given him fairly quickly, walking through the streets of New York to find it.

“Of course she/he/they would pick New York.” He thought to himself bitterly, winding past other tourists until he reached the building he was looking for. He was about to enter when something caught his eye in the window of a small coffee shop next door. He saw a flash of y/h/c, the exact shade he’d seen so many times and froze, staring on at the source.

And there you were, with men and women and people all around you, chatting, laughing, drinking with them. He saw the warm smile on your face and his heart melted knowing he wasn’t the source of it this time. He couldn’t hear what was being said through the window but he knew it was important from the sole fact that it was making you laugh. He felt tears starting in his eyes, a wave of hurt hitting him again and again inside, drowning him.

But you’re so unaffected,

I really don’t get it

But I guess good for you

He watched, unable to move from his spot, eyes glued to the familiarity of you. He wanted your warm embrace against his cold to the touch skin, your lips on his.

But he felt another wave, one of anger. You’d left that touch, that safety net, for this. For midgardians, mere mortals. How could they possibly offer you more than he could, he wondered.

He took a deep breath, stalking into the coffee shop and getting in line to order, wanting at least one thing to come out of this disaster of a thought to come to where you are.

“No no, my ex... he’s a good guy. We just weren’t really meant to be, I guess? It was... complicated.” He overheard you say, his eyes darting to you. He tries to turn his gaze away, realizing what he’s doing but you look up, your eyes meeting his. For a moment the both of you keep eye contact, Loki too scared to look away and you confused as to why this man you’d never seen has such a familiar stance to him.

You blink a few times, turning back to your group and continuing your chat, making Loki breath a small sigh of relief. He mutters his order to the poor barista, her swooning over him, even in his disguise. Once his order comes up, he storms out, not bothering to look back at you as you start talking about your new job, new apartment, your new life essentially. He frowns at the thought of you being in any place that would be unfamiliar to him, trying to think of how you might feel living without him.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Had your comment in the shop been a hint that you were miserable like he was? But he knew that neither of those would possibly be true. Your smile said it all; you were already moving on perfectly fine without him. It was as though you were almost trying to erase your history with him, from his perspective anyway.

Well good for you, I guess you’re getting everything you want

You bought a new car and your career’s really taking off

It’s like we never even happened, baby what the fuck is up with that?

Unable to bear the thoughts multiplying in his mind, Loki ducked into an ally, curling into himself against a wall, starting to cry again.

He groaned in frustration, his head in his hands. You were unraveling him, he wasn’t sure how and he didn’t like how it felt. He’d always been at least somewhat levelheaded but with you gone, his mind was always clouded, his thoughts were infected with you nonstop.

It was like a disease had overcome his entire body and he had no cure, no antibodies to fight it.

“What have I done?” He asks himself, sighing into his hands, staying in his position crouched on the ground for a quiet moment, seeking nothing but a bit of peace.

He’d only wanted to show you he truly loved you but instead he’d driven you away, into a new embrace.

He runs a hand over his jaw, willing himself up. If he couldn’t hear to see you, there was no purpose in him furthering his stay. He decided silently that the best option for him was going back and waiting for Heimdall to open the gates, to get him as far away from your soft features and glowing personality as possible before he did something he’d regret, like approaching you and outing himself as a stalker, not that he really cared anymore. You’d never see him the same as you once had, this much was clear.

Memories of the first I love you came to his mind suddenly.

“I love you Loki, and I know you love me too so stop acting so silly and just say it, please.” You had begged him. He had merely smirked and ran off, telling you you had to catch him to hear it back. You’d chased him around the gardens and the libraries and balconies of the entire palace until you’d caught up, out of breath as you’d grabbed his cloak and pulled him towards you and kept him rooted to his spot until he returned the words.

He’d been hesitant, merely to tease you but he’d said them back, said them multiple times while he had kissed you all over, overjoyed by the sense of protection and love he felt with you.

He shook his head with a bitter laugh to himself at the bittersweet memory, seeing as how things were for you now.

He trudged his way back to the gates opening, kicking a rock aggressively all the way there, trying to contain himself enough to not scream out in anger the way he had been doing in his room. But every time he managed to calm himself, your smiling face found it’s way into his brain, making him lose all feelings not involving anger.

He kept trying to remind himself that it had been your choice, that you’d left him without a goodbye or anything of the sort on purpose to make the wound sting more but it did nothing but make him feel agony for the hurt he’d put you through.

And good for you it’s like you never even met me

Remember when you swore to god I was the only person who ever got you

Well screw that and screw you, you will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

His rage was finally starting to blind him again as he marched to the gates, just how he liked it. The idea of you with another person was still what really set it off. Seeing you hurt but watching you thrive and move on was more, it was worse. It filled him with feelings he’d never thought he’d feel towards you in his life but he was and he didn’t feel as bad as he thought he would.

‘No one leaves a prince. Not unless they are absolutely crazy.’ He thought to himself smugly, waiting at the gates for Heimdall to open them. He gets pulled through, up to Asgard where he dusts off his smooth suit, relieved to finally be out of the disguise he’d chosen.

The smile on your face when he’d seen you with the Midgardians was glued to his brain, his focus flying all over the place at the memory. He couldn’t figure out quite what it was that was making him so agitated himself, knowing he missed you but suppressing the extent of it.

Asgard felt empty, superficial almost without you there to watch everything in such a natural awe that he’d so admired for so long. It was as though all the colours of the home he’d so cherished for so long were drained right down the gates when they’d opened and swallowed you whole.

He couldn’t bear that you’d managed to run off with not only his trust and dignity but his sanity along with it.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, Loki stormed back to his own room, avoiding yours at all costs as he forced his doors open, slamming them behind him and grabbing anything breakable in sight, tossing it at the balcony doors. If anyone had walked in they would’ve thought he’d truly lost his mind but to him, that much was at least somewhat true.

Maybe I’m too emotional

But your apathy’s like a wound in salt

Your deceit was controlling more of his life, his thoughts, his entire being than he’d ever care to admit. He was consumed with a need for you, a thirst to be near you again and everyone could see it was driving him to the edge of a cliff, the only possible person to pull him back up being the one pushing him to it in the first place. Still, he knew it was all his own doing. That was how he knew part of his latest insanity was due to the built up guilt from so long.

Even so, he was enraged. With you, with himself, with the world. It was a mix of everything.

He could almost feel the gentle touch of your hand to his shoulder when he was upset, your lips pressed sweetly to his temple in attempts to cool him off.

“You can’t hold pointless grudges all your life Loki. You can try but I’m not sure it would be any fun.” You’d teased, making him smile despite his sour mood.

He cried out, throwing another priceless item from his hand, crumbling to the ground yet again. The stress was eating away at him.

Maybe I’m too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Thor heard the crashes and smashing coming from his brothers room and went running, pushing open the door with all his strength, his mouth agape as he was met with the sight of his brother screaming in agony.

“Brother, talk to me.” He commands, trying to stop Loki from throwing anything more. Loki thrashes against his brother, sobbing while he yells out, fighting his brother with all his might.

“Loki stop fighting me and tell me what is wrong!” Thor commands and Loki falls to the ground on his knees, exhaustion hitting him like a brick.

“I am fine. Everything is fine.” He murmurs, smiling at his brother easily. Thor shakes his head, not accepting the answer this time.

“Tell me.” He says again and Loki sighs, a hollow laugh choking out of his lips. He removes the spell he’d used, revealing his true self, in pyjamas, his hair an extreme mess, his face sunken in and pale, more so than usual. His eyes were bloodshot beyond belief.

Thor audibly gasped at the sight of his brother covered in his own blood, the shards of the glass having cut into his hands and his feet several times. Loki sinks in against the edge of the bed, looking up at his brother tiredly.

“There. Now you have seen the true me.” He mutters, not saying anything else as his mouth sets in a line.

Well good for you,

You look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

“Loki... I had no idea it was this bad brother.” Thor said quietly, sitting down awkwardly next to his brother on the floor. Loki quickly pushed away, not wanting to face anyone’s pity for even a moment.

“Leave me be brother, I keep this disgustingly weak display hidden for a reason.” Loki growled, avoiding his brothers eyes, staring at the broken glass laying at his feet.

Thor stands, not wanting to ignore Loki’s wishes and leaves him with his thoughts, his brows still furrowed in worry as he shuts the already busted door behind him gently.

Loki runs both of his hands through his mess of hair, squeezing as though to rid himself of the memories locked in place, taunting him on an endless loop.

“You can never get her/him/them back. Never ever.” They seemed to whisper in his mind, the sound of silence in the room only amplifying their nonexistent voices.

He smacked his head harshly, trying to push them out, trying to get back to the quiet while tears rolled down his cheeks, wondering once again why he had ever done anything so cruel to you as he had.

“I am so very sorry my darling.” He whispered into the emptiness softly, hugging his knees to his chest.

Never once had he ever felt so broken down or lonely in his existence, never once had he ever felt so much remorse mixed with anger as he did right then, knowing it was too late to even apologize in the first place. A part of him wondered if you felt anything regarding him at all anymore. A deeper part of him wondered how long it would be til you purposely forgot him entirely, all emotions about him disregarded just like that. And he knew if you did he had to live with the fact that he deserved every moment of it.

Good for you

You’re doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath

Ignoring the blood drying on his hands and his feet, Loki went into the bathroom and splashed ice cold water onto his face, trying to get a more level head out of it. While the shiver it gave him did wake him up a bit, his mind was just as clouded, just as distracted.

He groaned, slamming his fists down on the edge of the sink, nearly cracking it with the strength used. Suddenly his room felt too solitary and confining. He put on his facade again, cloaking any form of injury or sadness with his powers. He walked into the gardens, nowhere else to stay away from others while not feeling claustrophobic, though sending him back in time for a mere moment.

“You know Loki, you ought to spend more time out here. These plants are so pretty. And the flowers all smell so good. How could you not just run away from everything in the world and hide out here from it?” You asked. He had chuckled, pulling you along the path and deeper through the enchanting maze of greenery until you had reached the bench.

“My mother took me here as a child. She said it was our place, for our escapes from reality. She told me to only show it to those I truly trusted or were truly enchanted with. You are both of those things to me y/n.” He had told you as he held you in his embrace, carefully picking a flower and handing it off to you, the first gift he’d ever given you.

He smiled slightly at the memory, thinking how ironic and poetic that he was now doing exactly as you had suggested that day and running from his responsibilities. He missed the way even the most mundane of things had been so easy for you to enjoy.

He laid in the grass, ignoring the stinging in his feet and the twinges of pain in his palms from his cuts, taking comfort in the memories he had. Those, he was thankful you couldn’t have taken with you. He felt pathetic. He felt weak and vulnerable and all the things he’d never wanted to feel in his life. And even worse, it was because of the one person he thought he could always count on to protect him from those terrible feelings.

He hummed absentmindedly to himself, feeling much more calm with the fresh air and sounds of nature rather than complete silence. He still didn’t feel quite like himself but he was unsure if he ever would again anyway. At least now he felt somewhat in control of his own mind.

I’ve lost my mind

I’ve spent the night

Crying on the floor of my bathroom

As he watched the sky, Loki thought of you, every mark, scar, line, feature of yours, drawing out your face in his mind, the most memorable moments with you playing like a film sequence. His smile fell a little as this day, his impromptu visit from earlier came to his mind.

Whether he was truly angry at you for leaving wasn’t the question anymore. Not really. The question had more so become whether you’d really loved him at all or if he had fooled himself into believing you did.

He silently decided on the latter, knowing you had too big a heart to ever put anyone through that level of hurt.

Still, he seethed with jealousy thinking of the boy who had been sitting the closest to you in the little coffee shop, the way he had looked at you the same way Loki always had. And it hadn’t seemed to him like you’d been too eager to pull away either, which only made it sting worse.

He closed his eyes in a small show of defeat to no one, knowing you were better off without him around to flip the world upside down for you. Deep, deep down he knew you needed a stability he wasn’t ready to provide yet, though he would never ever admit that to anyone, much less himself.

No, instead he missed holding what was his in his arms, making you feel safe and comfortable like he had for so many years. Anyone’s hands on you other than his made him feel a blind rage even on his best day and right then it was the worst day he’d ever faced, making the anger spread like wildfire through him.

The image stood at a standstill in his brain and he convinced himself that one way or another, he had to get you back to him.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it

But I guess good for you

Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

———————————————————————

Tagging: @peachybaes , @wolfish-trickster and @writinguntilmyheartgivesout (thank you guys for the support on White horse, you have no idea how ecstatic they made me, my heart was very happy, I appreciate you, and all my other readers 💖💖)

[recurring-polynya]

What’s your opinion on pre-canon Renruki?

I think that they already had a romantic or almost romantic relationship back in the Academy, maybe even back in Rukongai, and the reason it wasn’t explicit is because firstly it would have spoiled the endgame couples, and secondly it’s a shonen, so it’s implied.

I think they fooled around when they were orphans in Inuzuri. They grew up together, they were always together in their “teenage” years (however adolescence works for souls😅), I think it’s not impossible that they had their first experience, if just their first kiss and make out session, with each other. When they joined the Academy, they spent less time together due to their different courses, and I think Rukia’s sad expression when Renji leaves for the mission in the real world depicts that (along with worry for him, and maybe even jealousy for his achievements compared to hers). By then I think they were quite intimate, they fooled around sometimes (with the little time they had) and knew the other’s and their own feelings, but never said anything like “I love you”, or talked seriously about the depth of their relationship. If they were “just friends”, as some antis like to claim, they wouldn’t have been so heartbroken, have so many regrets and felt so guilty during their separation. And why that separation in the first place? It’s not a matter of class difference, because Rukia did talk to people of inferior status, like her Squad mates. What’s actually forbidden to people from different classes is relationships. If Renruki was just a friendship, there would have been no problem, but their bond was beyond that. Rukia wanted Renji to tell her to stay with him, but his feelings of inferiority and belief that Rukia deserved better (maybe even better than him) prevented him to do it. Their separation doesn’t feel like an end to a friendship to me, it feels like a breakup. They avoided each other because it hurt so much, and they couldn’t bear to have any relationship other than a romantic one, which was impossible once she became a Kuchiki.

After the Soul Society arc, they got back together. They were physically too comfortable around each other to be just friends, like when he basically hugged her to encourage her to go back to Soul Society when Orihime is kidnapped (and maybe he was also comforting her), or when, during the fight with the Fullbringers, he casually placed her head resting on his thigh. By then they were secretly dating, in my opinion. In the last arc they were always together, it’s so easy imagining them as a couple.

What do you think? Is my interpretation far fetched? I’d like to hear your theories about their feelings, when they blossomed, when they confessed, if they had something going on during their Academy years…

Thank you if you decide to answer!🤍

Well, as you say, Bleach is a shounen, and also I don’t think Kubo was particularly interested in including romance in the story, so I don’t think there is a correct or incorrect interpretation. It’s left to the reader to imagine what they like. I don’t think “spoiling the endgame” has anything to do with anything.

I don’t think your interpretation is “too far-fetched,” although I don’t happen to agree with it. There’s very little to go on in canon, people can fill in the gaps in whatever way makes them happy/makes sense to them. I have exactly 0 interest in arguing with people on the internet about stuff like this. I enjoy reading fanfiction that has wildly different interpretations from my own, I generally love to hear a variety of ideas, although I generally prefer the format of a narrative over Tumblr posts (funny, since I do seem to write a lot of them).

Anyway, here are a bunch of opinions. This is way, way too long, so I'm gonna throw it under a cut.

That being said, you have some really amatonormative ideas in there that I do take issue with. Friendships absolutely can be as deep and important as romantic relationships. I categorically reject the idea that a romantic bond is stronger than a friendship one or that acts of physical affection necessarily imply a romantic relationship. I actually have no beef at all with people who want to read Rukia and Renji’s story as a very strong friendship. I do think it was still reasonable for Renji to avoid her during their separation, even if his goal wasn’t romance. He wanted to see her live a better life, and didn’t want to drag her down. Yeah, sure, if he just wanted to be a casual workplace friend, he probably could have joined Squad 13 and seen her once in a while. But, especially in the early days, it would have been a bad look for Rukia to continue socializing with people deeply below her station, and I feel in my heart that Byakuya would have forbidden her from seeing Renji if he found out she was hanging out with someone from her Inuzuri days, even if it was just casual. Yeah, there exist people who say Rukia and Renji are "just friends" for the sake of other preferred ships, but also, like, so what? Who cares? That’s a lot better than making Renji out to be a bad person or trashing his character. To be honest, I am generally happy to read a fanfic that had some other Renji or Rukia pairing if it actually contained some solid Renruki best friend content (I have found a few 369 fics that do this, and maybe also in the little bit of RenIchi content I have read, so, uh, good job, my gays. This is sometimes touched on in ByaRen fics, but usually not as much as I want, althought I also tend to hold these to a high bar, because if I have to deal with Byakuya in my fanfics, they should have to deal with the Rukia-Renji friendship 😂)

Anyway, you asked for my interpretation, so here it is . These are all just, like, my opinions, man:

Life in Inuzuri just really, really, really sucks, and Rukia and Renji both have a lot of trauma and emotional hang-ups from that time. I think they forged a deep emotional connection during this time that was probably a little too codependent to actually be healthy. They had no models of healthy families or relationships. I also think they were incredibly close to Fujimaru, Kosaburou, and Mameji, and that even if they wanted to have a romantic relationship, they wouldn’t have, at the risk of ruining the more important bonds of the larger group.

In my fanfic, in their last days in Inuzuri, I do have them fool around for a brief period. It coincides with the deterioration of the bond with their last surviving friend, leading to his death. I did this for trauma reasons, because that’s how writers are.

“Communication” is probably the most important theme in my writing, and a thing I bring up all the time is that young Rukia and Renji had a thousand ways of communicating survival-based things between each other, and 0 ways of communicating how they felt about each other.

I did a post on this recently, but their whole gang was incredibly powerless in Inuzuri. They lived on the fringes of society and stole scraps to survive. I think that their number one duty to one another was to survive. In the anime, Rukia swears that she will never leave Inuzuri, that she will always stay with her friends. I think the reason she does an about-face is not just because their friends are gone, but because she realizes that she will lose Renji next, and the only way to prevent that is for both of them to get stronger. Neither of them actually wants to become a soul reaper. They do it for each other.

I think that Renji would have remained in Inuzuri and tried to make a life as best they could, but Rukia knew this was futile, and where Rukia goes, Renji follows.

I think they purposely maintained distance at the Academy. Just as in Inuzuri, their primary duty to one another is to survive and thrive. They were rejected and mocked for their low origins, and hanging out together would have made this worse. I think it hurt Rukia that Renji made new friends, but on the other hand, they were exactly the sort of people who would help him get a leg up in the Gotei. Rukia’s Academy days were very painful because she saw Renji succeeding, just as she wanted, but leaving her behind in the process. Conversely, Renji got super focused on doing well, with the idea that he could pull Rukia up behind him, except for the part where he never actually told her that.

I feel like I’m in the minority here, but so much fanfic focuses on Rukia and/or Renji being “wrong” in the scene where he tells her to go to the Kuchiki, but I disagree! Everything they have done is in order to get to a better life! It is Renji’s duty to encourage her to leave him behind. He doesn’t want to be an anchor holding her down. Likewise, Rukia knows that if she doesn’t go, she’s just gonna be a burden on him. Their relationship has always been about each of them surviving separately over having happiness together. Up to now, they’ve always managed to find each other again, although this kinda looks like it might be it for them. Do these kids need to go to therapy? Yes! Did they do anything wrong? No!

I think about this a lot, but even if Rukia had turned down the adoption (which… I’m not actually sure she could have), even the offer would have ruined their relationship. Imagine that Renji asks her to stay, and she does. Maybe they even get together at this point. Every rough patch, every time there’s money troubles, this spectre of “Rukia could have been a Kuchiki” is going to hang over them. In fiction, there is often an idea of sacrifice being a one-time romantic gesture, but in my real life experience, this sort of thing hangs around like an unwanted ghost. I can, in fact, envision a scenario where this is exactly how Aizen manages to get his hooks in Renji, by offering Rukia an unseated spot in Squad 5, even though she “isn’t really good enough to deserve it” and “taking care of them.”

I am really fascinated with Rukia’s crush on Kaien/Miyako. Bold proclamation here, but I think there is something developmentally healthy about young people having crushes on the older people in their lives, provided that said older people treat them with respect and dignity and don’t take advantage of it in any way. Crushes are, by their nature of being unreciprocated, a safe way for young folks to imagine the sort of people and relationships they want to have in their lives. I headcanon Rukia as bisexual, and maybe also a little bit genderfluid, and she had these two extremely cool people in her life, whom she maybe wanted to be and maybe wanted to kiss and maybe to have a marriage like that some day. I… like to think that their role in her life healed some of her trauma before their death caused even more.

Fully into headcanons now, but I like to think that Renji had a parallel experience, with, of all people, Ikkaku and Yumichika. Like him, they came from the ass-end of Rukongai, but they stuck together instead of bowing to the social mores of the Seireitei. It is critical to note that they were able to do this through strength. This is literally not a thing that Renji and Rukia could have done, but at the same time, Renji sees this as the kind of relationship he wants to have with a partner. He doesn’t want to look after Rukia and protect her, he wants to fight back-to-back with her and then make out afterwards. He’s still convinced that he needs to go through the proper class channels to see Rukia again, but without their influence, I don’t think he ever would have been able to say “fuck it” and turn on his captain during the Soul Society Arc.

Meeting Ichigo and dealing with his unreasonable need to protect everyone he cares about, personally, was also a huge blow to Rukia and Renji’s “I cannot allow the other person to take any risks for my sake” hang-up. Ichigo has his own traumas, which are entirely different from Renruki’s, but the one thing he had was growing up in a loving family. (Isshin has his problems, but I feel strongly that he always made his kids feel like his love was unconditional). I’m not saying that making friends with a shounen protagonist is a good replacement for therapy, but it does have healing properties.

Entirely off-topic, but I feel like Ichigo is incredibly selfish in the way of Terry Pratchett’s witches: “All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

Where were we? Oh, yeah. I honestly think that it is unknowable when in canon Rukia and Renji confessed. I already covered this pretty thoroughly in this post. I hate the idea that they were secretly dating. Renji worked incredibly hard to get his post and I think that both his job and Byakuya’s respect are very important to him. I do not think he would put either of those things at risk like that, nor would Rukia want him to. I tend to prefer a slow-burn approached, and I honestly think they got together during the 17-mo timeskip at the earliest, and more likely post-canon entirely, although I think them confessing in the Royal Realm is the spiciest possible outcome, so that’s what most of my fanfic cleaves to.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Was Ugetsu manipulative?

Some time ago, I posted my AkiUgetsu timeline thread on Twitter and was asked in the replies if I thought Ugetsu was manipulative. I had seen that discourse around, but I have never really pondered about it. So, I thought I’d take this opportunity to see if I thought he was manipulative.

Before I get more into this, though, a couple of disclaimers.

Firstly, this is merely an answer to a question. I am not responding to any piece of anti/pro-Ugetsu discourse out there. Also, this is just my personal take on things. I am not posing this as one and only correct interpretation. If someone agrees with me, great. If someone disagrees, that’s also fine. I’m not trying to tell anyone how to feel about Ugetsu’s character or the AkiUgetsu relationship.

Secondly, it’s no secret that I’m an Ugetsu and Akihiko stan and AkiUgetsu is my Given OTP. That disposition is good to keep in mind by whoever is reading this. However, I try to put my own biases aside when writing these kinds of analyses. Just because I love Ugetsu’s character doesn’t mean I’m only going to write things that my fellow-Ugetsu-fans like to hear. But I am interpreting things as someone who claims to understand his side of things, and I understand if that might seem like I’m already being too biased to someone.

End of disclaimers!

“Do you think Ugetsu was being "manipulative"? Many people call him that and it hurts me a little”

I found this a surprisingly challenging question when I wasn’t given any concrete examples of Ugetsu supposedly being manipulative. It was difficult to grasp that perspective by myself when I was going through the manga.

Usually, I don’t have big trouble putting my own bias aside for these things, but now I felt like I was questioning/second-guessing myself at every turn. Because I feel like you can see Ugetsu as manipulative if you simply take that point of view/stance. The answer is in the question.

But trying to make myself do that felt like I was going against my interpretation of what kind of story Ugetsu and AkiUgetsu are telling regardless of my bias. I really don’t think Kizu wrote Ugetsu as some kind of toxic/manipulative villain, so trying to take that stance felt untrue from the get-go. But on the other hand, if I was really this unable to see things from the manipulation perspective, was I just letting my bias cloud my thinking? Can you see my struggle?

In the end, I decided to go with what “manipulation” I myself can see. So, I’m sure many people will disagree with me on this reading.

Some time ago, I wrote another piece about AkiUgetsu when I was asked why do I think they stayed together for so long even though they were both suffering. In that, I explained how I tend to visualize AkiUgetsu in two ways: a circle/cycle, and two layers on top of each other. I think the layers might help me in explaining how I see the “manipulative Ugetsu” interpretation.

One of the reasons why I think AkiUgetsu got so bad was the ambiguity of their relationship. There were two layers to what they were. Officially and on the surface, they were platonic roommates. Both of them were single on paper and free to date other people if they so desired. In this regard, Ugetsu was in his full right to sleep with other people without that making him a “slut” or a “cheater”.

But under that “official”, platonic, and visible layer, there was another hidden layer that was what still bound them together. Under the surface, they were still emotionally and occasionally even physically involved with each other. They still had feelings for each other, and living together only kept those feelings lingering and tying them to each other despite how painful it was.

These two layers created a “yes, but…” situation in many ways in AkiUgetsu as roommates. The ambiguity gave room for very mixed messages from Ugetsu’s part which is where I think the “manipulation” interpretation can be found if somewhere. It’s quite easy to take a look at Ugetsu dating other people while also allowing Akihiko to stay with him as Ugetsu manipulatively stringing Akihiko along. He could have his cake and eat it, too.

And I’m sure that’s at least partly how it came across to Akihiko, too (vol. 4 ch. 20):

Ugetsu appearing to be hot and then cold was a painful game of hem and haw for Akihiko. He was confused and frustrated by Ugetsu not making a decision and sticking to it, especially since he knew Akihiko still loved him. It felt like Ugetsu was indulging him out of pity. Akihiko had never wanted to break up in the first place, so if Ugetsu was going to throw him a bone or give him some kind of leeway, Akihiko was unable to let that pass and stop holding on to Ugetsu. And I have a feeling that Ugetsu knew Akihiko would stay, too, if he gave him even a slither of hope.

So, yes, I do think that to some extent, Ugetsu was aware of how much his indecisive behavior was hurting Akihiko (vol. 3 ch. 17):

He knew his actions probably came across as cruel to Akihiko. I think he was aware of the fact that he was hurting him when he slept with someone else while not rejecting Akihiko properly. So, I’m not trying to say he was innocent or couldn’t have handled their relationship as roommates better. If he wanted both of them to stop suffering, he should have made up his mind and not allow himself to waver.

All in all, I’m also not surprised if this side of Ugetsu’s behavior can come across as manipulative and selfish to some readers. I could see that.

But I think if you leave your interpretation at that, you are looking at things only on the surface level and ignoring a lot of how Ugetsu feels. Ugetsu’s character is all about seeing behind what he says or how he behaves.

Just as Akihiko felt like he “can’t quit” Ugetsu no matter how much it hurt, the same applied to Ugetsu as well (vol. 4 ch. 17):

When Ugetsu slept with someone else, Akihiko took it as him ceasing the chance to finally get rid of Akihiko and to provoke him. And he kind of got it right, but the tone was actually different from Ugetsu’s point of view. He was trying to take the chance to end their relationship, but because he was unable to do it as such, he purposefully hurt Akihiko to push him away. Ugetsu made himself the bad guy when trying to break up with Akihiko for good because he himself couldn’t take that last step of walking away. He needed Akihiko to do that.

When Ugetsu told Mafuyu about why he had originally broken up with Akihiko but why he was so powerless to let go of him now, Mafuyu heard it as Ugetsu’s “scream”. He saw how much in pain Ugetsu was behind his words.

And that’s the thing. Ugetsu was suffering in the same cycle as Akihiko. His own indecisiveness was bringing himself pain just the same (vol. 5 ch. 27):

On one hand, Ugetsu couldn’t picture Akihiko not coming back and leaving him for good. Whenever he thought “maybe…”, he always arrived at “no…”. He recognized Akihiko might leave one day but couldn’t imagine his life without him. He was just as unable to let go as Akihiko was – probably even more – and yet, he also wanted the suffering to end. Try to grasp the level of the complex inner conflict of that.

And this is what I meant when I said that with Ugetsu, you need to see behind the surface. He wasn’t giving mixed messages (or being “manipulative”, if you want to call it that) out of some kind of malice. When he was seemingly willfully ignoring the second layer of his relationship with Akihiko by openly dating other people, he was trying to push Akihiko away and free them both. He wasn’t toying with him for his own amusement.

But he also lacked the resolve to go through with the last step of breaking up – just like Akihiko before the intervention of him moving out for a while – which came across as him indulging Akihiko’s lingering feelings cruelly out of pity. Under the surface, though, the truth was he also “couldn’t quit” Akihiko and was suffering from the same pain as him.

Ugetsu wasn’t innocent of any wrongdoings. He should have done some things differently. Just as Akihiko was ultimately responsible for not leaving, so was Ugetsu for not sticking to his decision of breaking up and not allowing Akihiko to linger. Personally, I don’t agree with the “Ugetsu did nothing wrong” discourse. They were both “guilty” in their prolonged suffering.

However, that is not to say I don’t sympathize with both of them. I understand why they couldn’t let go of each other despite all the pain. So, I honestly can’t vilify either of them. The way they were struggling and yet unable to stop was very human to me. “Should have” often isn’t nearly as easy as “could have”.

I think you can interpret Ugetsu as manipulative if you want to. You can interpret any character in a bad light if you want to. But in doing so, I think you’re only seeing the “what” and ignoring the “why”. You’re missing the complex, between-the-lines flip side of the coin that I think is at the very core of Given – especially regarding Ugetsu’s character and the AkiUgetsu relationship.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Brim (Ivar’s PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Brim: the surface of the sea, sea, ocean, water (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A little insight into what happened to Leofric, and a bit of explanation on chapter 33 but also chapter 30. You get it.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: The usual. Plus descriptions of torture (flaying), blood, and death. Also, I reference a few times the scene where Ivar ‘drowns’ in 4x12-13.

A/N: I was supposed to post two Ivar PoV’s today, but the other one works best if you tie it with the ending of this Saturday’s chapter (chapter 34), so I’ll post it next tuesday instead. Sorry!

Don’t read this before Chapter 33. I know it is parallel to 30, but trust me.

“Will she kill me?” The Saxon asks, for the first time being the one to start talking first. Ivar doesn’t bother hiding his surprise as he walks to a table, using his arm to lift his right leg onto it, letting him sit.

“Would you want her to?” Ivar asks, mocking. The man looks disgusted, horrified, at him.

“You would. You…you b-beast, you want to see that witch kill me.” The Bishop grunts, and all Ivar offers as an answer is a laugh. He won’t deny, least of all to a Christian, that there’s something in him that still lingers in the image of you the first time he saw you, when he saw you kill.

“But she won’t.”

“You will.”

“Not yet,” The man’s head drops at Ivar’s words, and it is with a sigh that he stands up, walking to the man. The tease of a blade against his neck is enough to make him look up. “You focus too much on death, for a Christian.”

It is familiar, it is easy enough by now, to put the edge of the knife under the Bishop’s skin and scrape, peeling away flesh and drawing out blood and pain.

“Death surrounds us. Death…death is…”

Ivar stops, waiting to hear whatever it is he has to say. He’s awfully talkative today.

But he doesn’t continue, and so Ivar does. His chest, his arms, his face. For an old man, and a cleric at that, Leofric does withstand an impressive amount of pain.

“Why come to Kattegat?” He insists, the same question that has been repeated, by him and others, for weeks. The Saxon shakes his head. “Why leave Stithulf behind?”

“I am…not needed anymore.”

The vague reply, the stubbornness of keeping secrets from him; it angers him, it makes his blood boil under his skin at the powerlessness, at the uncertainty. The knife goes deeper, and Ivar smiles.

Leofric gags in his own blood, keening in agony, pained sounds leaving bloodied lips.

Still, he mumbles, breaks, prays, “The dead man breathes, and God’s light touches us all. The soulless find a soul in the one true God, and they return.”

The Bishop’s head drops down, and Ivar calls out for whoever is closer to check if he is alive. Whatever the answer is, he will deal with it tomorrow.

When he walks into your bedroom, you’re standing with your back to him tending to some wildflowers you keep by the window.

He knows his arrival doesn’t go unnoticed, but he still lingers by that doorway, letting his eyes roam over the figure of his wife. Dressed as any other woman from here, but just in the way you stand and hold yourself there’s something else, an edge of foreignness that has not changed or dimmed, and that still fascinates him as much as that first day.

Your head turns to the side slightly to signal you know he is here.

“Husband.”

He knows enough of your tongue now to understand what that means, and he knows enough of you and the two of you to return the greeting.

“Wife.”

When you turn around, your eyes are drawn to his hands, before raking over him searchingly. You frown.

“That blood isn’t yours.”

“Your skill as a healer let you know of that?” He taunts, because honestly he cannot resist the urge to.

Your eyes narrow and your head tilts to the side, and he knows in your head you’re calling him some awful thing in Greek, but it only makes his smile wider.

Instead of offering an answer, you huff and stride away. Ivar chuckles. It is still too easy to get under your skin.

You come back with a bowl of water, and you put it on the table next to where he sits. Ivar is startled when you sit across from him, and grab his hand, choosing to clean the blood off of it yourself.

“This is a lot of blood, Ivar,” You tell him quietly, lifting your gaze to him and offering the faint curve of a smile, as if you don’t realize how you’ve unearthed him, dragged him under a rip current and left him still trying to make out where the surface is with the simple action of tending to him. You ask teasingly,  “Should I be worried?”

He scoffs, “No.”

You accept his words with a smile, and return your gaze to your work. It startles Ivar for a moment, the realization that mere months ago this wouldn’t have been your reaction to all this.

You would have demanded he let you know, he would have refused to tell you just because he didn’t want to be told what to do, and you would have grown angry, and then he would have grown even angrier.

But now all you do is accept his words and remain calm and gentle sitting next to him. You’ve let yourself be soft with him, he realizes, a strange surge of pride starting in his chest.

Still, because he can, because he finds himself wanting you to know, he tells you, “It’s Leofric’s.”

“The Bishop?” You frown, “I thought…”

“Soon, most likely.”

You nod your head, accepting his words, but for a few moments too long you seem to linger on it.

“I want to see him.”

“What for?”

“I…” You hesitate, and if he were to guess, the woman that speaks now is the same that, when he first brought you to Kattegat, would always talk about the should be’s before the truth. “My words are the reason he still lives, he still suffers.”

“Are you going to say you owe that Christian anything?”

“No,” Your response is immediate, and you almost betray a smile, “But-…it is in bad form for a husband to deny his wife’s wishes, you know?”

“Wives normally ask for pretty things, not chained Christians.”

You shrug, lips pulling into a smile that says you know you’ve won. It infuriates him a bit, how easily you turn the tides to your favor.

“You and I don’t do things the normal way, though, do we?”

 ____

There’s something in the way you walk that Ivar noticed since the very first moment he saw you. Well, maybe not the first, but certainly since that first meeting in Aneridge.

Something about the straight back, the carefully placed hands, the raised chin, the defiant eyes. He knows better than to call it a façade, knows better than to believe the annoying arrogance and the prideful stance are anything other than yours; but it is still a shield you choose to raise, something you consciously do, like when he squares his shoulders and stands taller before his brothers.

And even as you falter at the sight of the bloodied and battered Bishop, you still hold that stance.

You, with your affinity to refer to titles as if they were people apart from those who carry them, would see the Queen of Kattegat, and not…you.

And, Ivar gathers, there isn’t much of you in the way you still stand by his side when your whole body is tight with tension, when you cannot look at the Christian’s face for quite a while.

“Will you…kill me?” The Saxon’s voice is ragged, hoarse, broken; but Ivar’s eyes remain on you.

You look sick, disgusted, but you still lift your chin and shake your head, resolute.

“No. I’m sorry.” Your words are honest, but the Christian only scoffs, blood spitting from his dry lips.

“You aren’t capable of r-remorse,” The Bishop insists, head lolling to the side and ragged breaths coming faster. “You’re just like him. Beasts, monsters, all of you.”

You frown, and your nose furrows, a gesture that remains a tad adorable, a tad soft, even as you are surrounded by blood and death.

Your hand on his arm is gentle but fleeting, a goodbye as you turn your back to the Bishop and walk out of that place.

____

Days later, and he still cannot shake off the uneasy feeling letting you see Leofric’s last moments left him with. And now, his mind also lingers on a world he never knew, that he probably never will; now that you know Laconia, the land your blood rules over, is free from the Christians and their God.

He cannot forget how small and fragile you felt in his arms as you cried and trembled for what you had lost, for what they had won. You cried for the world he took you away from, but maybe…maybe you cried because you were free from it, too.

He wants to believe you will let go of that place now that you know they don’t need you, not like he does. He wants to believe the happiness you feel here -even if you only admit of it when you’re drunk- can measure up to the one you felt in those fields of flowers.

Ivar is distracted from his own thoughts when Freydis walks into the great hall, blue eyes searching for something. Someone, more specifically.

He still remembers her words, and a part of him still clings to them, still wishes for them to be true. In the late nights, where you lay beside him and your voice is hushed and your eyes are soft, where you weave tales of your Gods and your past, where you listen to his own with a strange sort of shine in your gaze; Ivar still believes it to be true, that the Gods reward those that withstand the pain and the suffering. In the rush of pride that Ivar feels when he has you at his side, when you take his outstretched hand and stand beside him before his -your- people, when you sit on the throne at his side like you were born to and smile at him like you two share a secret; Ivar still wonders if it wasn’t a delusion at all, that you were sent to him by Freyja.

She hesitates at the sight of him, and blue eyes look around as she speaks.

“I was looking for-…”

“I know. She isn’t here,” He interrupts, head tilted to the side, “Why were you looking for her?”

A moment of hesitation, before Freydis puts her hands together and places them carefully in front of her. Not so different from how you straighten your back and harden your gaze, but the intent is to give a completely different image than yours, he realizes.

“I worry for her. The Queen told me what the Saxon called you, called her, when she saw him. It hurt her,” The slave mentions quietly, wordlessly obeying his command and walking at his side as Ivar stands up from the throne. After a breath, she continues, “But you do not care to be called a beast, a monster, do you?” She lowers her gaze, “Some of us know better than to expect certain things, I suppose.”

He doesn’t like this. This…strange honesty, this carefully-played part.

“What are you saying?”

“I love her,” She confesses, no hesitation. That wasn’t what he expected, and Ivar stops walking, startled. Freydis shrugs, and offers, “But I know better than to believe a woman like her belongs here.”

“She is here.” Ivar tells her, but he doesn’t know if it is a defiance of her claim or a question.

The slave stays silent for a while, as if considering her words. After a deep breath, she lifts her eyes to him, “Can I speak honestly, and…openly to you?”

There’s a knot of tension and dread settling at his stomach, but Ivar finds himself nodding dazedly, and she smiles slightly.

“The Queen has changed, that is no secret to you I’m sure. Something in her…died, I think,” She takes a deep breath, “A hope, maybe.”

“Hope.” He repeats the word slowly, tasting ash in his tongue.

“I…” She hesitates, lowers her gaze and licks her lips. But when she faces Ivar again, her blue eyes are determined. “I do not say these things with the intent to have any harm befall on her. But I love her, an-…”

“You’ve said that.” He points out curtly. He hates the tight knot of jealousy at the pit of his stomach, at the reminder of how easily you accept Freydis’ love for you.

The prodding and haunting thought of how between the woman you trust and confide in and him, you’d choose her; doesn’t leave his mind for too long. Perhaps it never left, since he saw her grab your hand and dance with you on the feast after your wedding.

The blonde chuckles, “It is true. And because I love her I…it pains me to see her suffer.”

“She isn’t suffering.”

“She’s a good liar.” She retorts without missing a beat. He leans closer, and in the widening of her blue eyes he knows she realizes she made a mistake.

“Careful,” Ivar warns her, “Insulting my wife isn’t a smart thing to do.”

“It isn’t an insult, she’s…making the best out of the situation she is in,” Freydis’ expression falters, something close to pain, as she continues, “But I have held her as she cried, and I have comforted as she tells me how she doesn’t belong at the side of a monster.”

A familiar feeling, the floor dropping from under him. Like being dragged down to the sea tied to that mast, struggling against the weight of the water that pulled him under, unable to do anything but drown.

He accepts her words with a nod, turning his face away and breathing even if his lungs feel filled with salt water. Ivar blinks and it feels like there’s sand in his eyes; and he frowns but it trembles too.

“But you do not care to be called a beast, a monster, do you?” Freydis presses, an edge of coldness, of cruelty in her dainty voice. “One such as you knows better than to expect love, I suppose.”

____

Your hand is gentle and warm where it rests over his heart, but his chest pulls tight and it feels like it burns; and it feels the same as when you insisted, so stop that using that word like an insult, because you turned that word into so much more; because you are so much more.

Your smile is honest and dazed and a little scared, the same as when you leaned up and promised, I’m happy.

Your eyes are the same blend of softness and steel that put him under your spell so long ago, the same that shone with pain and something else when you told him, I am myself when I am with you, in a way I never could with any other; never doubt that.

And your voice is quiet, so quiet against the voices of the past, against the beating of his heart in his ears, against the certainties that happiness is nothing; but he still hears you.

“Everything changed.”

It still hurts, and it hurts to pull away from you and leave you behind. It still hurts because nothing is what it was supposed to, nothing is quite what he wants but he is paralyzed at the possibility of pushing forward and losing ground, nothing makes sense but he dreads going back to when things made sense but he didn’t have this.

It is like being pulled from the depths of the sea by his father, the raging water still threatening to pull him under, unable to do anything but take desperate gulps of air and revel in still being able to feel the pain.

____ 

He stumbles, trying to move too fast to get to her, but even though she could, even though she should, Freydis doesn’t move.

He grabs at the back of her head, and she whimpers in pain, but her eyes don’t drop from his. And he wants her to fear, he wants her to pay.

Letting go of the crutch in favor of putting his other hand around Freydis’ throat, he brings them both to the ground, the blinding pain that reverberates through his legs when they hit they floor only making his hand tighten on the slave’s throat.

Her eyes widen, but there’s more defiance, hate, than fear. Ivar feels the anger in him boiling in his blood, making his grip tighten even as she whimpers and claws at his arm. He could kill her, he wants to.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” She pleads, voice faltering as her eyes squeeze shut, “It is true, what I told you.”

Ivar shakes his head, feeling his lip curl into a snarl as he moves her closer.

“One of you is lying, and it isn’t my wife.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

His thoughts leave him for a faint moment when he finds himself without an answer. There’s a growing restlessness inside him, the desire to move, the need to…to make this uncertainty take form and leave him. His hand tightens on Freydis’ throat.

“Because I have no reason to trust you.”

“Then kill me.” Freydis dares, and her hand drops from his arm, she stops fighting.

He is not an idiot, he knows what she’s doing. He knows the moves he’s allowed to make, and killing her isn’t one of them.

And, there are worse things than death.

He was at the other end of the coldness when you accused him of betraying your trust, he faced the fear of losing you because of something he did and the pain he had caused; he knows what awaits her.

Loosening his grip with a smile that feels like a grimace, he reminds her, “She’s the reason you are alive, the only one who would miss a slave. And you betrayed her.”

____ ____ ____

I hope this was okay, I had fun with the ocean thingy but Idk if this one was very good. I still hope it was okay tho, hope you liked it.

Thank you so much for reading! Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless  @1950schick @punkrocknpearls (wont let me tag you, idk why) @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​ @crazybunnyladysworld​  

[inkweaver22-blr]

Here we are with chapter 6! This one chronologically takes place in between chapters 2 and 3, so keep that in mind. There hasn’t been a lot of Sandy in this fic yet so I felt like this was as good a spot as any to focus on him.

AO3 Link

<Previous | First | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Six: Being There

Tang visits Sandy for some advice.

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Tang knocked on the door to the cabin on Sandy’s boat. He took a step back as he heard a loud thud followed by what sounded like a frantic conversation and more banging.

Soon, the river demon poked his head out from behind the door and glanced down at the scholar.

“Tang! It’s good to see you. What, uh, brings you here,” Sandy greeted with a strained smile.

Tang simply raised an eyebrow at the strange behavior.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Sandy said cheerfully, still not opening the door fully. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” Tang hesitated, somewhat self conscious at what he was about to admit. “I was wondering if I could get your help with some things I’ve been having trouble with.”

“What kind of things?”

“The... emotional kind,” Tang said softly while rubbing his arm and staring downwards.

“Oh! Oh.” Sandy’s gaze immediately softened for a moment before glancing behind him back into the cabin. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw he opened the door all the way and gestured for Tang to enter. “Why don’t we talk about it over some tea?”

Tang looked around the cabin as he followed Sandy in. It didn’t look like anything was out of place.

Decorations and plants to promote relaxation dotted the space. A yoga mat and exercise equipment were neatly stacked next to the couch. The room was mostly tidy save for the few cat toys strewn about and the two half-drunk cups of tea on the coffee table.

Wait, two cups?

Tang took a closer look around and eventually spotted something.

Huntsman’s braid was poking out from above a high-up cabinet.

Ah. So that’s what the noise earlier was.

The unlikely friendship between the spider demon and Sandy had happened already once before so Tang decided to ignore it for now. He may not like having what he was about to say overheard, but the cycle would be ending soon and he really needed to have this conversation.

The scholar took the offered seat on the couch and thought about why he was here while his host prepared some fresh tea.

It had been a few days since the cursed meatball incident. If the timeline of events stayed the same in this cycle, that meant there was only about three days left before MK unlocked the use of the 72 Transformations, they went to the desert to train, and then would get attacked by Lady Bone Demon.

Tang shuddered involuntarily as he thought about the dangerous demon, and subsequently, her primary servant. He subconsciously rubbed his throat as the Mayor’s visage flashed in his mind.

Quickly shaking his head and taking a deep breath, Tang banished those images. He knew better than to meddle with major events now, and his friends had helped him through his trauma multiple times already.

He needed to focus on the actual reason for this visit.

“So what did you want to discuss,” Sandy asked while setting down a tea tray. The blue giant took one of the cups for himself and sat cross-legged on the floor across from Tang, his height allowing them to remain eye level to each other.

Tang took a fortifying sip of his own tea as he thought about how to begin.

“I know I can be a bit… full of myself sometimes,” Tang started. Sandy made no comment and simply waited for the scholar to continue. “But I really am not bragging when I say that I’m very good at noticing things.”

There was a small creaking noise from the cabinet hiding the spider demon. Both Tang and Sandy chose to ignore it.

“I’m just a naturally perceptive person I guess. I tend to notice patterns pretty quickly and I almost immediately pick up a change to a place I visit frequently.” Tang took another sip of his tea before staring seriously at Sandy.

“So I must apologize to you, Sandy, for taking so long to notice that you are quite possibly more perceptive than even I am.”

The river demon’s eyebrows rose in surprise at that.

“Uh, thanks? What do you mean by that?”

“Sure, I can pick out even the small details of the world around me,” Tang explained, waving his hand dismissively. “However, you notice something much more important than that. You can see how the people around you are feeling.

“Yes, I can tell when someone is acting strange or hiding something,” the scholar continued, not acknowledging the shocked look on Sandy’s face, “but you seem to be able to see so much deeper than that! You can tell why that person is upset. Or at least you’re able to make a very good guess.

“Even more impressive than that is how you always seem to know exactly how to react to that person’s distress.

“You know the right words to say that offer the most amount of reassurance. You know exactly when to push for details and when to back off. You never judge, only offering unconditional support.

“You're endlessly patient and kind and understanding and I’m-” Tang took a ragged breath as his emotions welled up inside of him. “-and I’m not.”

“Tang, you’re-”

“Please let me finish.” Tang took a few deep breaths as Sandy looked on in concern, not the slightest bit offended at being interrupted.

“I know I can be kind and supportive, I’m not saying that isn’t true. But I also know I’m somewhat egotistical and smug at times. And that causes me to miss things in others.” Tang began to shake as he was finally overwhelmed and tears began to fall.

“I-I don’t want to miss how the people I care about are hurting ever again. I just want to be there for him, like you’re there for all of us.” Tang looked pleadingly at Sandy. “But I’m not sure I know how.”

“Oh, Tang.” Sandy swiftly moved around the table and gently pulled the scholar into a hug. Tang eagerly leaned into the embrace as he continued to let his insecurities out.

“He- he’s been hurting for a while and I don’t know for how long because I didn’t notice and-” He gasped for breath as he cried into the river demon’s shoulder. “He tries to be strong and not let it show but that’s hurting him even more and I don’t know how to fix it and-!”

“Shhh, just breathe for me right now Tang,” Sandy soothed as he rubbed the scholar’s back. “It’ll be okay. You don’t have to do this alone. We can all help MK out together.”

Tang sobbed a bit harder because of course Sandy would know who he was talking about through his incoherent ramblings. Of course he’d know exactly what to say to get to the heart of the issue and address it. He’d be jealous and impressed if he wasn't currently bawling his eyes out.

After Tang eventually calmed down and had a few more cups of tea, he still expressed his desire to learn how to be more like the river demon. Sandy had simply agreed to his request and lent him some self-help psychology and therapy books he owned. They discussed going over the contents in more detail at later dates and ways to help MK as a group before Tang decided to take his leave.

“Remember that you aren’t alone in this,” Sandy gently reminded the scholar as he led him to the door. “You aren’t solely responsible for the mental well being of others and it’s okay to ask for help.”

“Thanks Sandy,” Tang said with a sincere smile. “I really appreciate the help.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

Tang, feeling much lighter than before, decided to play a bit of a prank. He smirked as he leaned around the river giant before calling back into the cabin.

“Bye Huntsman!”

There was a sudden bang followed by profuse amounts of swearing. Sandy broke out into loud guffaws as he waved goodbye to the retreating scholar.

In the end, Tang hadn’t been able to get through the books Sandy had lent him before the cycle reset. He made sure to visit Sandy earlier on in the next one and learned a lot from the gentle giant.

Sandy wasn’t the only one he took cues from.

He incorporated Pigsy's silent acts of compassion and Mei’s no-nonsense attitude into the way he helped the others. Even MK’s fierce openness made it into his techniques.

Tang also never forgot he wasn’t alone. He always asked for help when he felt overwhelmed. He made sure the others knew how to help out whenever one of them was hurting.

Tang was powerless to stop anything that would cause any of the hurt feelings in his friends, but he’d be damned if he simply stood by and did nothing to address them now that he knew what to look for.

He promised to always be there for them.

----------

Sandy, I feel, is the secret MVP of the Monkie Kid group. He may not be a licensed therapist, but he’s probably had enough experience with his own and read enough about it to pass a certification test with no problem.

Huh. With this I’ve now ended exactly half of the current chapters with Tang having some sort of emotional breakdown. I’m sure that ratio will only get bigger as we progress. :3c

The Sandy and Huntsman friendship/ship is one I enjoy a lot and it’s a shame there isn’t more content for it.

I'm playing a bit fast and loose with the timeline of events in canon, but meh. It's not that big a deal I think.

That’s it for now! Until next time!

[kyouxa]

Diabolik Lovers Chaos Lineage Kino (Story 10)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! If you enjoy these translations, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Place: Scarlet mansion — Kino’s bedroom

Yui: Nn…

(This is… Kino-kun’s room, isn’t it? I should’ve been in Reiji-san’s room though)

(I mean, if I’m not mistaken, Kino-kun sucked my blood and I ended up fainting at the end)

Kino: ...You finally woke up. The sleeping beauty really is a sleepyhead after all.

Yui: Did you end up carrying me here, Kino-kun… ?

Kino: If I would’ve left you as you were, I obviously would’ve been scolded. So it couldn’t be helped.

Yui: Oh, I see… thank you.

Kino: ...There’s no need for you to thank me. Or did you already forget what happened to you yesterday?

Yui: No, I remember everything...

(I seriously thought he’d end up killing me yesterday. In the end, I once again tried to stand up for myself against my own will)

(But, somehow I wasn’t scared of that. After all I felt as if I finally got to understand Kino-kun’s true intentions…)

Kino: What’s with those eyes?

Yui: Oh, err… I… I should probably go back to my own room now.

(I also have to go and find out about Shu-san’s situation…)

*Yui tries to stand up*

Yui: Ngh, Ah...

(I have no strength to stand up…)

Kino: You also seem a little anemic, don’t you?

Well, it’s not unreasonable since I did end up sucking a lot of blood.

Yui: ...Can you tell me what happened to Shu and Reiji-san then?

Kino: It seems that the two of them have made up. I also think that Yuma’s suspicions have been completely resolved.

Yui: Oh, I see...

(That’s good…)

Kino: Even though their memories have been falsificated by someone, they absurdly came to reconciliation. 

Yui: That’s because Shu and Reiji-san are real brothers no matter what their memories got changed into.

Kino: You’re talking about brothers again...

...Ahha, I lost interest.

Yui: Eh?

Kino: I thought that if I could see those guys fight each other, my life wouldn’t be too bad here, but it all went wrong in the end.

There’s no point in staying in this place anymore now… I’ll go home.

Yui: Eh… do you really know how to get home from this place… !?

Kino: Don’t get your hopes high up. You should know better than anyone how complicated this could be.

Yui: (He’s right… )

Kino: But I don’t plan on overstaying in a place like this anymore.

I thought this would turn into a way more miserable situation, but it just ended up showing off their bond among brothers.

What’s even with this mansion? Well, I’m sick of it anyway.

*Kino leaves*

Yui: Ah… wait, Kino-kun! ...Ugh...

(It can’t, my feet are too unsteady… I can’t chase after him)

*door closes*

Yui: (And he left…)

Place: Outside — Forest

Kino: (I’ve once again been disappointed by my own expectations. It’s unimaginable that they actually ended their fight)

(The plan I had for Reiji-san was supposed to work out just smoothly)

(But it all ended up in a huge failure because of that woman)

(In any case, it was about time I get myself out of here as a way to refresh myself)

(She was in serious joy when I said that those Sakamaki guys are gonna be safe now though)

...That still sticks in my throat.

(Just why are you so concerned about them? Ah, because they’re precious to you, no? Are those guys considered as gentlemen to this woman then?)

(If so, I guess that’s why they’re so bound together. Those Sakamaki guys and this woman)

...For real, this is no fun.

Place: Scarlet mansion — Kino’s bedroom

Yui: (Kino-kun really left me alone like that. And until now he hasn’t come back either…)

(Should I try telling Reiji-san about this matter?)

(But if everyone would chase after him all of the sudden, Kino-kun won’t come back either)

(It would be pointless to try to reason with Kino-kun since he’s so adamant anyway)

In the end I’m still the only one who knows about the current situation...

...Alright, let’s go. I have to find Kino-kun.

Place: Outside — Forest

Yui: (Haa… my body still feels all heavy… looks as if I really have anemia after all…)

(But that’s probably because Kino-kun’s blood-sucking yesterday was different than all the other days)

(And yet, why am I trying to chase after Kino-kun… ?)

(If I’d leave him alone, there would be no conflicts in the mansion, and all those terrible things wouldn’t happen anymore either)

Even if Kino-kun isn’t here, why is he still running through my mind? For me to think of him now among all things...

(But still, I should be honest with my feelings since I do want to chase after him)

(My reason, huh… I should think about that later. I have to focus on finding Kino-kun first)

Place: Miniature garden — Edge of the world

Yui: Ah... I think I got through the forest before I even knew it already...

I was so lost in thoughts I didn’t notice...

… Eh…?

Monologue

At first I forgot to take a breath after the sight that was beyond the forest.

It looked as if the cliff had completely cut off the ground.

As I looked around the cliff, it seemed as if there was no end to it. The opposite shore was all blurred and I couldn’t see it at all either.

Because I was amazed at the unrealistic sight, I didn’t notice something.

— The ground was becoming loose.

Place: Miniature garden — Edge of the world

Yui: ….. !?

(Is the cliff collapsing… !?)

*Yui falls*

Yui: Kyaaaaaaa!!

(It’s useless! I’ll fall down! No, please… I don’t want to die!)

(Help me… Kino-kun!!)

Kino: Haa… what are you doing?

Yui: (...Eh… ?)

Kino: Alright, I’ll pull you up now.

Yui: Ahh…

*Yui falls to the ground*

Yui: Haa… Haa…

(My god... my hands are shivering and my heart is pounding)

(If he wouldn’t have grabbed me by my arm, I’d be—)

Kino: Of course you’d get all shaky if you approach a cliff and lose your footing afterwards. Do you actually want to die or something?

Keep in mind that you were just saved because I happened to be nearby.

I’d be in huge trouble if Eve would die to begin with. This way I couldn’t get any powers.

Hey, are you even listening?

Yui: I got saved… you saved me...

I-I’m so grateful… I… I thought I was going to die...

Kino: Hey, you… are you crying right now?

Yui: That’s because… I was so scared...

(Whether my blood was sucked, or a knife was being pointed at me… I never felt like this…)

(It’s the first time I’ve ever felt this close to death…)

Kino: If you would’ve slipped off that cliff, it would’ve been an instant game over. So don’t try that again, alright?

Yui: I-I’m so sorry...

Kino: Don’t tell me you feel more nervous now out of all those times I’ve threatened you?

Yui: I-I don’t know… I really don’t know, but—

Thank you so much for rescuing me...

Kino: ...I’m just not happy to be thanked while seeing you have that terrible face.

Haa… I really hate seeing a woman being as depressed as you are right now. Stop crying already.

Yui: A-Ah… I’m sorry...

(But even though I want to stop, my tears won’t stop flowing down…)

(The darkness that I saw under the cliff simply doesn’t disappear out of my head…)

Kino: Haa… can’t help it then.

Monologue

The blood sucking, being threatened, and all the painful feelings I had to experience...

I thought I had been in a really miserable situation all this time, but compared to what happened just now, thinking back to this feels as if my life was going soft on me.

Having to experience a simpler situation and then a way more life threatening situation such as this, I was completely unable to stop my trembling legs and crying eyes.

After some time had passed, I was finally able to regain my composure again.

As I suddenly raised my face, Kino-kun, who was playing with my smartphone, was sitting right next to me.

Place: Miniature garden — Edge of the world

*Kino taps on his smartphone*

Yui: Kino-kun…

Kino: Hm? Ah, so you did stop crying after all. Took you long enough.

Yui: Have you perhaps been waiting for me there all this time… ?

Kino: It would be annoying if you were to fall off there again, so I just thought I should keep an eye on you.

Yui: I guess that makes sense...

I’m sorry for causing so much trouble for you. I’m alright now though...

Kino: Well, gotta admit that this one was a little refreshing because I saw your crying face.

It also seems that you realized your powerlessness.

Humans are really fragile in mind and body, aren’t they?

Yui: T-That’s not it… !

Kino: Not it, huh? Heh, that doesn’t deny the fact that your legs are still shaking though, right?

Yui: Err...

(I can’t seem to stand up yet, so I can’t even argue…)

Kino: So, what are you going to do if you can’t even walk? Will you wait for your death here?

Oh, or are you waiting to be attacked by other vampires while they’re scouting around?

I wonder if you’d prefer that one because you’d become an easy target then.

Yui: (Nn, I’d be in trouble if that happened… !)

(... If I don’t want this to happen, I’ve got no other choice)

Then, I’d like to stay with you, Kino-kun...

Kino: Hmm? It’s kind of irritating that you’re suddenly cheeky enough to ask to be by my side even though you keep disobeying me.

Yui: (Uhh… at least I ended up saying what’s on my mind)

Kino: If you really want to be with me that much… prove it to me.

Yui: Prove it… ?

Kino: Don’t just tell me to take you along with me. You gotta be to my liking, y’know?

Choices

1) Sincerely ask (white)♡♡♡

2) I’m a bit worried (black)

— Sincerely ask ♡

Yui: Please, I want to be with you, Kino-kun.

So please, take me along with you...

Kino: That’s not quite it yet. Didn’t I tell you to ask me to my liking?

Yui: Err, umm…

— I’m a bit worried

Yui: (I mean, I don’t want to be left behind all by myself, neither do I want to be subservient though)

(I’ve already had a lot of trouble until now, so I definitely have to be careful…)

Kino: Alright, your time has expired. If I can’t hear what you say, I might as well push you off the cliff.

Yui: I’m sorry, I’ll answer you! Just wait a quick second!

end Choices

Kino: Look, kiss the back of my hand. Do it as a sign of loyalty. And then swear the following:

“I want to only be beside you, Kino-sama. I’ll never go against you anymore, and I’ll do exactly as I’m told.”

Yui: (The conditions keep increasing…)

(But I guess I’ll have to do it. If something might happen in my current state, it would surely end up in a critical life situation for me…)

*Yui comes closer*

Yui: A-Ah, um… so I can have your hand real quick, right?

(Ah… after all this man has really big hands. The back of his hand is also quite bony though)

Kino: What are you staring at? Look, like this you’ll end up depending on me soon.

Yui: Oof… a-alright.

*Yui kisses Kino’s hand*

Yui: Nn...

I want to only be beside you, Kino-sama. With that… I’ll never go against you anymore, and I’ll do exactly as I’m told.

Kino: Fufu… Hahaha! Ah, that feels good. After all it’s way nicer to have you obediently tell me that directly.

Yui: (He looks so surprisingly happy…)

Kino: Seems as if you finally completely fell into it, right? I don’t dislike how obedient you’ve become.

And because of that, I shall reward you by taking you to a special place.

*Kino picks Yui up*

Yui: Eh... what… are you doing!?

Kino: As you can see, I’m carrying my princess.

You’re weak on your knees and can’t walk, so I might as well have to do this.

Because you obediently took my hand and all that, I’ll repay you.

But if you try to struggle... you know what might happen, right?

Yui: (And yet again… he says something to threaten me)

(But it will stay obedient)

(That’s because Kino-kun’s smile now seemed real… almost as if he’s genuinely happy—)

[1littleshippergirl1]

Don't you dare get hurt

Summary: Oliver is a natural born daredevil and he just might cause all of Marcus' hair to go gray

@raviliuz here you go! I'll get to working on that other one you wanted soon

--

Oliver was a natural born daredevil. Apparently, according to Mrs. Wood, he'd been like that since he first learned to crawl. Because of his accidental magic, he'd land himself on the top of a bookcase or a countertop and just drop, his magic protecting him from slamming onto the floor.

It didn't get better as he aged, either. He saw no harm in performing dangerous stunts on his broom that would surely lead his mother to an early grave. Once, shortly after he and Marcus purchased a home of their own, he jumped right off the roof to test out if he would land on his broom or not.

Marcus nearly had heart failure watching it, as it caught him by surprise because Oliver had failed to mention what he meant by "afternoon activities" when he grabbed his broom and headed out that day.

Oooh, he wa simply infuriating! He'd marched right out there, demanding an explanation and all his boyfriend could do was shrug and say, "Oops."

Bloody oops.

Marcus partly blamed Oliver's Gryffindor-ish tendencies as a way to explain his rather stupid behavior. Than again, even as reckless as his boyfriend's friends could be, they'd also been exasperated with him and his antics on occasion.

No, Marcus believed that Oliver just really had a death wish and relished in the fact he often caused him unnecessary grief.

He never took his concerns seriously, which only aggravated Marcus further. His eyes would sparkle with amusement, a grin peeking out and lips pressed together to surely suppress the laughing that was bubbling up to the surface at how Marcus' inner mother hen was shining through.

Oliver believed that purely came from Marcus not being sorted into Gryffindor and he was sort of right. He simply wasn't as brave or reckless, didn't find pleasure in risking his life on the daily.

Honestly, with the way his boyfriend lived, Marcus had reasonable fear to believe that Oliver would get himself killed one day, much as his lover brushed him off as overreacting.

He couldn't help it. Oliver was the most precious thing he had (not that he'd ever admit to using the word precious) and he wasn't about to let him drop dead for a stupid reason.

(He already told Oliver that if he dies from one of his stunts, he wasn't going to the funeral).

And speaking of his idiot. Marcus was at the window above the kitchen sink, watching as Oliver jumped off the broom he'd been riding and onto another one that was suspended in mid-air. The roof incident earned him a hefty lecture from Marcus and Oliver's parents.

Mrs. Wood had not been pleased to learn what her son was up to now that he was out on his own. Although, her worry wasn't quite the same level that Marcus' was, beyond that of a concerned mother. After a while, when she became certain that her son would be alright, as she hadn't yet recieved an owl or floo call from Marcus to inform her that Oliver had wound up in St. Mungos, she relaxed.

That meant Marcus' anxiety was more apparent, now that he didn't have someone else to share it with.

Oliver made the jump- Marcus' heart leaped when Oliver momentarily swayed, nearly not making it.

He won't have to worry about dying from that because I'm going to bloody kill him

Marcus marched outside. "Oliver!" He barked, crossing his arms as Oliver came floating down, lazily.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be thick!" Marcus snapped at Oliver's feign of innocence, which did nothing to curb the former Slytherins wrath. "You know what I'm bloody talking about!"

Oliver sighed, knowing that they were about to go down a familiar road. "Marc, I'm alright. Calm down."

"You almost didn't make it," Marcus glared at him.

"But I did."

"But you almost didn't."

"Quit worryin'," Oliver mumbled. "I'm okay."

Marcus despised how nonchalant Oliver was regarding the subject. So careless, nothing seemed to really get through to him. Marcus even tried to use Weasley to get him to see sense and that was after Marcus had to get Weasley to see why it was a bad thing!

Weasley stared at him, puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't understand?"

Marcus wanted to throttle him but Oliver liked his best mate very much alive so he'd have to wait. "He's an idiot, that's what."

"Isn't that what we find endearing about him?" Weasley said, dryly.

"No," Marcus scowled. "He's gonna get himself killed one of these days."

"Well, then I won't have to listen to another one of your pointless arguments."

Marcus growled. "I'm being serious! You need to talk to him!"

Weasley rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed. "I've known Oliver since we were eleven and I've learned that simply talking to him is not sufficient."

"Then do whatever. Just make him see sense."

There it was again, that peculiar look that Weasley had. "I see."

"What?" Marcus felt uneasy by the way he was being looked at.

"You're afraid," Weasley said, simply. "For Oliver. Has this got anything to do with-"

"No," Marcus said, quickly, scoffing.

Weasley clearly didn't believe him.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Shows you've got feelings and believe me, we all doubted such."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" Oliver had the bloody audacity to chuckle. He reached out to playfully nudge Marcus' shoulder, but the former Slytherin inched away before he could. The easy going smile slid off Oliver's face. "Marc-"

Marcus turned on his heel, storming back into the house and spamming the door. Oliver was left in the air, still on his broom, staring at the door blankly.

He wasn't going to waste his breath. There was no point in discussing it if Oliver wasn't going to take his warning seriously.

He stalked to the bedroom and slammed that door shut, too.

Marcus collapsed on the center of the bed, blowing out a puff of air harshly. This wasn't the first time that it'd happen, his anger getting the best of him. He tried not to let that happen, honest. But sometimes, Oliver's attitude got under his skin and he exploded.

He just wanted his boyfriend to be safe. That was all. He never thought much of Oliver's enthusiasm for danger much when they were attending Hogwarts; he probably would have celebrated with the rest of his dormmates if he heard that he'd fallen off his broom or some other mishap.

But that was before.

Before he knew what Oliver really meant to him and how quickly he'd become the center of Marcus' world.

And then it would be clear.

Marcus sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. Despite his efforts at keeping his lover safe, ejucj usually were in vain, he never meat to smother Oliver. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He was also fairly independent and wouldn't take too kindly to Oliver doing it to him if the roles were reversed.

He just felt so powerless in those moments of uncertainty. It was a foreign feeling, one that he utterly despised. He didn't like fear washing over him like icy water, stomach flopping to the point that nausea set in. And over what? Oliver being fine.

There was a knock at the door, bringing him back to reality.

"Marc," Oliver called as he opened the door. Marcus craned his neck to see his boyfriend glancing at him with a look of caution. "Erm, figured you'd be in here."

Marcus laid his head back down, not saying anything.

"Look," Oliver came closer, toward the end of the bed, swallowing. "I....I didn't mean to upset you."

Marcus still didn't speak.

"I know it upsets you and all-"

"And yet you continue to do it anyway," Marcus interrupted, shortly.

Oliver shrunk a little. "Well," he started, lamely, "you do things that upset me."

Marcus sat straight up, eyes flashing.

"Nothing that could potentially break my neck!"

Oliver squirmed under the intensity he was receiving from Marcus. He took a seat on the bed after some internal deliberation. "I'm sorry," he said after a touch of hesitation.

"I know."

"But you're still mad...."

"You could have fallen, Oliver! And you don't even care," Marcus scowled.

"Why are you so worried?" Oliver finally asked, rolling his eyes, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Marc, for Merlin's sake, we play quidditch for a living and you're way more aggressive than I am."

"That's different!" Marcus snapped.

"How?"

"It just is," Marcus said, stubbornly.

"That's not an answer."

"That's the answer you're getting."

Oliver groaned, dipping his head downward. "What's the matter with you? Do I have to guess?"

Marcus ignored him.

Oliver sneaked his arms around his boyfriend, his chin resting on Marcus' shoulder. "Marcussss," he drew out the letters purposefully. "Come on, tell me, won't you? I can't fix it if you don't say anything."

A few seconds trickled by.

"I give up!" Oliver exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I bet there's nothing wrong! You're just being a git like usual!"

Marcus did not appreciate the name calling. He for to his feet as well, shooting his boyfriend a dirty look. "There is!"

"Then tell me!"

"No!"

Oliver huffed, giving Marcus a great shove. "Tell me!"

"No!" Marcus shoved him back.

"Stop being ridiculous!"

"Stop being so bloody reckless!"

"Why can't you just tell me what's the matter?!" Oliver shouted.

"Marcus finally snapped.

"I'm scared, alright!"

Tension hung in the air.

"What?" Oliver said in disbelief. As if the mere notion was something entirely impossible. "You're joking, aren't you?"

Marcus glared.

"Okay," Oliver muttered, "maybe not."

Marcus sat back down with a plop.

Oliver sat down, too. Eyes downcast. Unsure of what to say. "You're really afraid?"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Marcus retorted without much malice. "You don't get it. I'm...I'm bloody terrified of something happening and you don't care. Do you know how it feels, watching you do that stuff?"

Oliver was rendered speechless.

"And I know I sound like a bloody 'puff but I can't help it, Oliver. You mean too much to me not to care. What if you-"

He had to push back the lump in his throat.

"That won't happen," Oliver said, quietly. "You know how careful I am."

"You don't know that."

"No," Oliver had to admit. "But you can't worry like that."

"I can't help it," Marcus grumbled, growing further embarrassed by his behavior. He was never like this before he'd gotten together with Oliver. He'd held a reputation for being a tough brute, but now he hardly felt brutish.

"If it's any consolation," Oliver ran his fingers through Marcus' hair, gently scratching at his lover's scalp. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Marcus muttered. "I know I'm being stupid."

"Stop it," Oliver hated it when Marcus got like that. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I just... you've got to calm down, Marc. I can't promise that nothing will happen, but you can't worry over me constantly." His voice dropped to a softer tone, his eyes staring at his boyfriend sympathetically.

"I know," Marcus buried his face in his hands. I know. Merlin's Beard, Oliver, I bloody love you."

"I love you, too," Oliver whispered. He leaned his head onto Marcus'. "I'm sorry. I really am. Suppose I've been a bit reckless."

"You suppose?"

"Okay, okay," Oliver said, good-naturedly. "I have been."

Marcus's earlier anger slowly ebbed away. He could never stay mad at Oliver for long. "I've never felt this before," he breathed. "It freaking scares me."

Oliver squeezed him comfortingly.

"I'm sorry, too," Marcus said, surprising Oliver after a minute or two of silence.

"You are?"

"Yes," Marcus admitted. "I suppose I can be a little.....smothering at times."

"You suppose?"

"Funny," Marcus rolled his eyes. "Really witty."

"Thought so," Oliver agreed.

Marcus snorted, then sobered up. "I really am sorry, you know."

"I know."

"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

"For some reason," Oliver muttered.

"You ought to feel lucky. I don't like anyone this much."

"I do," Oliver smiled, nuzzling him. "Every day I feel lucky that I get to wake up to the most handsome bloke in all of England."

"That was so cheesy, Wood."

"Aye, but it's true."

Marcus closed his eyes, feeling his temple being kissed. "Forgive me?" He murmured.

"There's nothing to forgive," Oliver reassured him. "You were scared-"

"Concerned."

"Terrified."

"Apprehensive."

"Throughly anxiously about my safety," Oliver finished as though he hadn't heard him. "How could I ever be mad at you?"

"You were."

"Yeah," Oliver admitted. "A bit."

"I don't want to you to think I'm trying to control you."

"And I don't want you thinkin that I'm gonna ignore everything you say."

Oliver wrapped his arms around Marcus, pressing his face into his shoulder. "Percy said we'll have to make compromises."

Marcus vaguely recalled Weasley saying such.

"Marc, if it makes ya feel better, I'll ease up a bit," Oliver promised.

Marcus nodded. He didn't say anything else until Oliver nudged him.

"Marc."

"Fine," Marcus sighed. "And I'll stop complaining about it so much."

A minute passed.

"We're both lying aren't we?" Oliver chuckled, raising his head to meet Marcus' eyes.

"Probably," Marcus allowed a smirk to cross his face.

"I love you," Oliver placed his hand on the side of Marcus' face, kissing him.

"Love you, too." They embraced.

Contrary to what they both had said, they did try to keep up their part of the bargain. Oliver tried to practice his mord dangerous stunts when he knew Marcus wouldn't be home and if that wasn't an option, Marcus took to complaining to Adrian, who silently cursed Wood for making that happen.

[deancaskiss]

I feel really empty about the finale, I expected to cry and have all the emotions but instead I had a few seconds of sadness with Dean and just so much emptiness. All of the characters deserved better, Dean... from raising his little brother to having an Angel fall for him deserved so much better. He finally started to believe in 15x18 that he wasn’t the “ultimate” killer but someone who did things out of love, someone coming to terms with who he is... and they kill him like that. They pulled a PLL but for their main character.

Sam... a faceless wife and a horror party city wig. He deserved so much better as well. At the end of it, I get why they had them reunited, living the life they’ve dreamed about forever but Dean died so young, never experiencing anything in life.

And Cas... oh my god Cas. This hurts so much and I refuse to accept any of it, just fully living in fanfiction canon at this point. They made him vulnerable, they made him fall in love and they wasted so much. They wasted an arc that changed the dynamic of the show for a quick second and I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay of that.

I wanted to do a rewatch, I actually wanted to start really soon but I just can’t right now. This show came into my life when I needed it the most, I was in a dark place and it brought light to my day. But now I don’t even have a happy finale to look forward to if I ever did rewatch. I have characters who deserved so much better and deserved so much love.

I’m really sorry about the rambles and the rant, I probably didn’t even fully explain everything I’m feeling. I’m just upset and numb and empty towards it all. I don’t wanna lose this show and I don’t wanna lose the characters but I just can’t accept the finale and be fully content with it. I just can’t...

Hi nonnie. I just watched the episode and I honestly feel the exact same way you do. I feel empty and numb. Dean’s death did make me cry, but that was it. I had no real large moments of joy. Nothing that made me smile or feel like I was watching my boys be who they really are. It felt disjointed and disconnected and I’m very upset about it. I’m grasping to the small details like Dean and Sam being in Heaven together, and driving Baby around forever.

Your description of Dean is so spot on. Saying he deserved better for everything he’s given. He deserved a life. He deserved love. He deserved to live and enjoy the world he spent his whole life protecting and saving. I completely agree with you that 15x18 gave us this new light for Dean- him seeing his fight for love and seeing himself filled with not anger or rage or killer blood, but love for his family and the ones he cares so deeply for. That’s the Dean Winchester I fell in love with. That’s the Dean Winchester who stole our hearts. This version tonight was not him. This was not Dean. Dean never gives up. Dean fights for his family to the end and beyond. Even typing this is making me cry. His death felt unfuifilled. Dean was meant to go out in a blaze of glory, not on some measly vamp hunt. It almost...

Okay, I’m not sure if anyone has said this, and I’m expecting hate for saying this. But that death made a mockery of his character. It was a slap in the face. The Greatest Hunter died on his first hunt after Chuck was powerless. And it makes it feel cheap. Like Chuck was the only reason he was a good hunter and without Chuck writing it, Dean was nothing. And I can’t accept that. It utterly destroys me. We’ve seen Dean prove himself over and over again without Chuck (ie “we’re making it up as we go”) and yet here he is, dying on their first hunt after Chuck as if his entire arc as a hunter has been a waste. It completely destroys his character. It makes the whole show a farce. Why show us Dean and Sam being something beyond Chuck’s control and the minute they finally take Chuck off the map, Dean dies in a salt-and-burn easy level hunt. It crushes my soul. I can’t fathom how hurt it makes me feel.

Having Sam not end up with Eileen felt cheap and wrong too. Why lead us with all these saileen hints for seasons and then drop that and have him a marry some rando we don’t even get to see. That’s not the Sam I fell in love with. That’s not him. I can’t accept that. He was devasted over losing Eileen in 15x18 and then we never see her again. Sam deserved the world after everything he’s sacrificed and I cannot begin to describe how upset I am over it. Like yes, I wanted him to have a wife and kids and to retire and be normal, but this felt like an imitation of that hope. Dean deserved to live longer in the world he helped to save. And I refuse to believe Sam would take Dean’s word and not try to save him or bring him back. That’s not who they are.

Okay, I’m going to try not to ramble here because it’s 3am and I’m not going to get any sleep but of all the characters, Cas deserved the fucking world and more. I am utterly desvasted over what they did to Cas. He died without love. He never knew if his family loved him and God I’m now full on sobbing onto my keyboard. Cas opened up, gave his heart to Dean, and died thinking it was for nothing. They could do a whole spin-off just for Cas and even that wouldn’t be enough honestly. I completely agree with you about living in fanfiction. You’re so valid in your feelings over Cas’ wasted arc. You summed up how I feel, and how so many of us feel. Cas gave the show new purpose, new direction, new hope, and they squandered it.

Oh nonnie, I completely understand how you feel about the rewatch. It’s so hard to fathom watching again knowing this is what it leads to. I understand why you can’t right now. What you feel is so valid and so honest and you deserve all the time you need to process everything. My advice? Take time. Find your happiness in the show again- whether it be characters or scenes or specific episodes that made you fall in love. And start with that. And when you’re ready, start rewatching, but only go as far as you want. You do not have to watch the finale again. THe ending can be wherever you want it to be. Do not let this be canon. The show is in the fans hands now. Make it whatever you want it to be. The writers cannot take your personal experience with the show away. It sounds like this show was a lifesaver for you, and that it helped you when you needed to get out of a dark place. I encourage you to find that again. Find scenes. Find episodes or seasons. Characters or plot points. Anything. Find the things about the show that made you happy and hold on. Don’t let go. No matter how badly they slaughtered the ending, no one can take your personal experiences away. No one can take that power from you. The show creators don’t have that power over you. Tell them to f’ off and you keep the parts of the show that saved you. No one can take that from you.

Please do not ever apologize for rambling to me. You can always always always come and ramble to me. I’m sorry my response got personal and long-winded and rambling too. I didn’t mean to get quite so full-throttle but your ask really made me feel things. Also, you don’t have to have all your feelings together right now. You are allowed to be feeling things you can’t express right now. That’s okay. All your feelings, even the ones you can’t put into words, are valid and acceptable. Everything you said and feel is so understandable. You are not alone, I promise. Take some time to grieve and mourn and be upset and angry and empty. When you’re ready, I promise you will find happiness in the show again. I promise. You are not losing the show or the characters. They’re yours. They’re ours. They are no longer in the hands of the creators/writers. They belong to the fans now. We create the stories and the future now. You don’t have to accept the finale... now or ever. You are allowed to be upset. Everything you feel is completely fair. Just know that I love you, that the fandom loves you, and we will be here to help you pick up the pieces.

[jksmoongf]

Kissing Fire [pt. 12] *final*

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x girlfriend (oc) Genre: cheater!AU, angst, smut Wordcount: 16.7k Warning: smut, lies, heartbreak and more lies and maybe fluff if you squint

Summary: It always feels like there is only one person in the world to love. And then you find somebody else.

a/n: I don’t condone cheating on your s.o., so please don’t read if you have a problem with this! (also I’m not saying this is something Jungkook would actually do!) **a/n: It’s been a long time coming but it’s finally here and I really hope none of you are disappointed! As always, some feedback would be lovely! I wanna thank @struggleofarmy​ for always helping me, and encouraging me and sobbing with me through the long process of writing this chapter! Thank you D. - I love you!!! 💕💕💕 And I need to thank @jaxonah​ for her big brain and planning with me, literally, the entire fic ( y’all can thank her, bc Sammy inspired KF and without her, it would've never happened!) Thank you bby! I love you so much, you don't even understand!  💜💜💜

Warning chapter 12: crying (it’s an emotional rollercoaster or maybe just an angst-fest who knows), smut ( handjob (female/male receiving), minor tiddie play, grinding,  good ol’ vanilla sex with a surprise at the end, as always unprotected, but pls use protection ), profanities, fluff (you’ll need a magnifying glass to find it), Jk doing dumb irrational things (no spoilers on that tho) Song rec: Every Avenue - Between You and I (please listen to it, it’s beautiful and just reflects the entire fic so well. it really sets the tone for this last chapter.) 

Namjoon was hiding in his studio; hunched over, he cowered at his desk just tiredly scrolling through his favorite online clothing store. Distraction was his main priority at this point, he tried so hard to not overthink or go looking for more hateful comments that would send him into a downwards spiral. His face was hidden underneath the hood of his big comfy sweater, his eyes quickly scanned each item but ultimately deciding that he didn’t really like any of them enough to make a purchase. Whenever he stopped, his brain went into a frenzy the past few days, the exhaustion creeping up on him; he always thought he should have everything under control but the current situation proved him wrong. He felt powerless, not knowing how to handle all the negative articles that were being published in an abundance every hour. A weak knock made him flinch involuntarily, and when the door quietly opened bare feet waddling on the hardwood floor told him that he wasn’t alone anymore. “Hyung…” He knew the soft familiar voice all too well, but for reasons, he couldn’t explain goosebumps traveled down his back before he slowly spun around in his chair. The youngest was standing by the small wooden coffee table, dressed in all black as if he was mourning the death of a loved one and to a certain extent, Namjoon was sure, he was. He was mourning the loss of his relationship that had only just begun. “What’s up?” He had avoided being alone with the maknae; he didn’t quite know how to speak to him at this very moment in time. It was almost like an invisible barrier was separating them, making it awkward to even look him in the eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you…” “About what?” His heartbeat was quickening, Jungkook wasn’t a kid anymore but he still needed his older brothers, maybe now more than ever before. “You know…” He shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable and out of place like he was about to change his mind and leave but he made his way around the table to sit down on the small couch. His eyes rested on him as he inhaled deeply to gain more time. “About everything that has been going on…I-I just want…” Without warning the younger boy bowed, averting his gaze to his knees. “I’m sorry, I really am.” “Jungkookie, don’t do that. You-“ The words got stuck in his throat, Namjoon knew how much it must have taken out of him to even come here and try to talk to him. Jungkook looked up to him, it wasn’t a secret that he had always had a big impact on the youngest member. But right now, the queasy feeling in Namjoon’s stomach made him feel like he failed not only as a role model but even worse, as a big brother. “No, I have to. I know, I disappointed you.” He wanted to object but couldn’t. As much as he blamed himself for what happened, he was disappointed in Jungkook and his reckless behavior. After all those years in the industry, he thought that all of them had a better understanding of how careful they had to be when it came to their privacy and personal lives. He wanted to chalk it up to Jungkook being young but he should’ve known better. 

“I hate to say it but you’re right.” A shaky breath left his lungs when he finally managed to speak, tearing down the wall that had kept all of his emotions and thoughts at bay. “I am disappointed in you. You know, I keep asking myself where it all went wrong…did we not teach you right from wrong? Did we, no - did I fail at teaching you that you need to be careful and that your personal life should never interfere with our job? Have you not learned anything from being in the industry for years? Why didn’t you think ahead? Why didn’t you delete those videos? Why did you even take them to begin with? Why didn’t you break up with your girlfriend before you started cheating on her? I have so many questions and I’m not even sure I want to know the answers because I’m afraid that it will hurt and cause more pain. You’re still my little brother but I’m questioning everything these days - I feel like I’ve failed you in so many ways.”

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat; he didn’t know how or where to start with explaining himself. Did Namjoon even want to hear what he had to say? Would he even believe him? 

The palms of his hands were clammy as he folded them together to keep them from shaking. “Hyung, you didn’t fail just because I make mistakes. Please don’t blame yourself for something that I did…” He didn’t want to cry but the tears were already prodding at the corners of his eyes. All of them were mad at him and disappointed, it wasn’t just his image that was ruined, he tarnished the group's image forever with his stupidity. The voice inside his head that had been fairly quiet was getting louder with every second that passed - his heart hurt that he didn’t think far enough ahead to know that what they had been doing was reckless and could cause so much trouble and harm but alas, he knew that you’re always smarter looking back on your previous actions. 

“I do think I am at least partially to blame. I know, I have been busy and I wasn’t always there for you when you needed me for guidance but a part of me was hoping that you would make the right decisions regardless…I don’t want to lecture you, I don’t want to act like I can tell you what to do, Jungkook but I do feel responsible for you and your actions.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his fingers intertwined with each other, his nails pressing into the delicate skin on his knuckles. “I don’t condone that you cheated on Yina and lied to all of us for so long but I do understand that you fell out of love and fell in love with someone else. It hurts that you didn’t think you could trust any of us enough to tell us or come to us for advice. We’re a family, yes, we will tell you the truth when you fuck up but we will always be here for you, we always have each other’s backs. I really thought you would have stopped for a moment to think of the consequences it could have when you took those videos but I guess, I expected too much from you. You’re only 22 years old and you are allowed to make mistakes but I just can’t help but think that somewhere along the way I messed up when you needed me.” Namjoon blinked when he saw a few stray tears rolling down Jungkook’s puffy cheeks; he didn’t want his words to hurt him but he needed to get them off his chest and if he didn’t do it now, he would probably never get a second chance. “You really didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t even know why I did most of those things. I know, I knew better even back then.” His hand automatically slid into the pocket of his hoodie to wrap around the white gold bangle, he had been carrying around ever since she gave it back to him two nights ago. “I know, I should’ve come to you, but at first I thought I just had a silly crush on y/n and it wasn’t even worth mentioning. I thought it would fade away over time but it didn’t, it only got stronger and I was too weak to fight my feelings and when we got into this web of sneaking around and lying, I just couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me because… I-I look up to you so much, what you think of me matters to me and seeing that look of disappointment on your face…I never wanted to see that…” He croaked, trying to dim the tears flowing down his face with his sleeve. “I just wanted all of you to be proud of me, especially you, hyung but I knew that once you found out about what I did, you would be ashamed so I kept it a secret.” It felt like someone was standing on his chest, making it harder to breathe with every word he spoke.

The countless times Namjoon had seen Jungkook cry before never hurt as much as it did now; he was breaking down in front of him. Tears spilling from the big brown eyes with no sign of stopping; he wanted to get up and comfort him but he couldn’t move, it was almost like he was glued to his chair; forced to endure the punishment of seeing the youngest falling apart. “Why did you take those videos and for goodness sake why didn’t you delete them right after?” “I don’t know, it was the only thing we had when we couldn’t be together. After y/n had taken the first video…it was exciting, I liked watching it back and I’m so stupid for not thinking that it could get me in trouble.” The pressure inside his head was building up rapidly as the tears just kept coming, making his vision blurry. “We were so caught up in our little bubble of lying that we thought we were safe. We had minor scares here and there but nobody ever caught us so it never crossed my mind that somebody might get a hold of those videos after we managed to keep us a secret for so many months.” 

The older one took the inside of his cheek between his teeth, index finger tapping on his lips. “When I think back to all the excuses you made to leave with her, or how many times I saw you two leaving rooms at the company, I never would’ve thought that you were capable of doing what you did…”

“I was selfish, I put myself first to get what I want. I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Yina’s heart and I felt horrible but I hurt her in so many ways and I know she will never forgive me and now I’m paying the price for what I’ve put her through.” His quivering lips pressed together tightly as Jungkook tried to stay in control of his body that was flooding with all the things he didn’t want to feel. “Y/n broke up with me…” He finally pulled the bracelet from his pocket, closing his eyes as his fingers traced the metal, wishing he could melt it to fix the cracks in his heart. “I deserve it, I don’t get to be happy after what I did and if I could turn back time and do the right thing - I would but I can’t. I deserve all the mean comments people are making about me, and they would rip me to shreds if they knew the whole story.” “You’ll have to forgive yourself; every day you’re growing and learning more. Next time you won’t make the same mistake again.” “How am I supposed to forgive myself when everyone hates me? Especially you guys…I can see it when you look at me, how disappointed and disgusted you are. You’re trying to be nice because we’re family but I broke your trust and I don’t even know how to fix things with Tae. He won’t even look at me, it’s like I don’t exist. I feel so lost, I want to fix everything but how do I do that? How do I get all of you to trust me again? How do I get Taehyung to forgive me? How do I make all the mean things people are saying go away? How do I get y/n back? I miss her.” In order to suppress a sob, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip - replacing the painful contractions of his heart with a stinging feeling that would soon subside.   A sigh escaped Namjoon’s lips before he rubbed his face with both of his hands. “I honestly wish I had the answers to all your questions but I think you need to focus on yourself right now. Be open and honest, not only with yourself but with the other members and you’ll see they’ll learn to trust you again. As for Taehyung, he needs time and you’ll just have to wait it out until he is ready to talk to you.” “W-wouldn’t it be easier if I just left the group? I don’t want to drag you down with me more than I already have.” He chuckled at the ridiculousness of the youngest statement. “Jungkookie, no! It’s either sink or swim and right now is the time to swim to stay afloat. You’ll have to fight to make things right again but you can come back from this. Right now it seems like you won’t; like it is the end of the world but you can and you will come out of this stronger.” Jungkook looked up and for the first time in days, he locked eyes with the leader. “It’s a little too late now, I know, but what would you do if you were in my shoes, hyung?”  Namjoon took a deep breath; he wasn’t sure if Jungkook would like his answer or not but after thinking about the options, he came to the conclusion that there was only one thing that would calm down the raging fans and the rest of the public who seemed to care too much about celebrity gossip. “If I were in your shoes, I would make a public apology. Get in front of the camera and own your mistake. Promise them that you’ll do better in the future. It will be a lot easier than hiding and waiting it out until they find a new scandal to bad-mouth somebody else.” Jungkook nodded, Namjoon only had his best interest at heart but the thought of having to stand in front of the cameras and owning up to his mistake scared him to death. What if they attacked him like starving animals? What if he messed up again and he would have to flee the country so they wouldn’t be able to lapidate him?

* After buttoning up her jacket, she looked in the small mirror on the wall - shocked to see that the concealer she had put on before work, had lost its power, making her look like she was ready to star in a zombie movie in a just a matter of hours. Sleep wasn’t easy to find; her thoughts always circling in around Jungkook and how much she missed him, missed his voice and his touch. She knew, she would be feeling like this for a while, yet she didn’t know how draining it would be. Of all the boyfriends she had been with before, none of them had anchored themselves inside her heart, unlike Jungkook who seemed to have superglued himself in place and there was no way to rip him out like an unwanted parasite. But maybe she was the parasite who poisoned his life and ruined his career; maybe all those girls were right when they said that she was the one to blame - that she was standing in the way of his future as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. No matter how badly she wanted to believe that their love was real, maybe it wasn’t. He was too good for her and she began to feel like she should just go back home to get as much space between them as possible - just in case their paths would cross again and she would get another chance at ruining his life. Shaking her head to banish the bad thoughts, a small smile tugged at her lips. Ha-na had told her not to read what people were saying online but she was weak and some girls made excellent points, she wasn’t pretty enough for Jungkook and maybe she should be pushed down the stairs because nobody would miss her anyway, especially not Jungkook. “Y/n, don’t forget to take home your new blouses.” Byungchul called as he passed by the staff room, stopping in his tracks. “I won’t.” She bowed to her boss. “What are you still doing here anyway?” He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing her suspiciously. He had told her to go home a while ago but she couldn’t bring herself to leave because if she did, she would have to be alone in her head and work was the only distraction she had. “I-I…I’m leaving now.” “Good, go home and get some rest, you look tired.” “I will.” She smiled weakly as she shouldered her bag and grabbed the little bundle of neatly folded white blouses. When she stepped outside, the cold air immediately filled her lungs and clearing her head momentarily. It would take her a lot longer to walk home but it was better than being crammed into the metro with people and even worse, maybe hearing his name somewhere that would send her into a downwards spiral of hurt and guilt. Her legs felt heavy as she dragged them over the concrete, the other people around her seemed to not have a care in the world. Everyone looked so happy, especially the couple in front of her holding hands. It wasn’t that she didn’t want others to be happy but the simple fact that Jungkook and her had never got to do just that, brought tears to her eyes. It all ended too quickly - if only they could have had one more perfect day together. 

The hard sounding footsteps of someone running echoed loudly in the store lined street but when she turned around, she only saw people walking alongside her, some of them even turned their heads to make out where it was coming from. “You’re in the way.” A girl brushed past her, bumping into her arm. “I’m sorry.” She bowed her head slightly, deciding that she probably had just been in her head too much and it had just been a figment of her imagination when suddenly someone ripped the bundle from her hand and ran down the street. It took her a moment to wrap her head around what just happened before her instincts kicked in and she hurried after the person in the black jacket. “Hey! Stop!” Her voice was weak, but to her surprise, her legs moved a lot faster than she had anticipated and she never lost sight of them, even with all those strangers around who’s faces were just a blur.

The person made a right turn into a smaller street off the side and when she finally turned the corner, she stopped in her tracks. The bundle had been ripped apart and the crisp white blouses were lying on the dirty street. Dropping her bag on the floor, she scurried to pick them up, trying to prevent them from getting ruined when someone yanked her ponytail. * Ha-na was sitting on the comfy sofa in the living room, Taehyung was resting his head on her shoulder while he busied himself on his Nintendo Switch. She was glad that he tried to distract himself and finally came out of his room, at least for a few hours, although he wasn’t speaking much to anyone that wasn’t her or his best friend. Jimin was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, the hood of his sweater pulled down deep to cover most of his face while the youngest was sitting on the floor next to him staring blankly at the tv just like the rest of the members. The atmosphere felt dense, everyone was just waiting for Sejin to come back to the dorms - he had texted Namjoon earlier that they had finally gotten a lead on who had leaked the videos. Ha-na still felt bad about everything that had happened, she had only wanted for Jungkook to do the right thing and everything just got out of hand. Her eyes rested on the bracelet he was holding, his fingers clinging onto the metal so tightly that the blood flow was low and his hand was shaking ever so slightly. When Jin had jokingly tried to take it away from him earlier, Jungkook had almost started throwing a tantrum. Would things ever go back to normal again? Going against everything she had told the others, it had become part of her routine to check any social media and news outlets for articles. She hated seeing that everyone seemed to have an opinion on Jungkook and y/n and spreading false rumors and lies that made everything worse. She was glad though that neither her boyfriend nor the youngest went online to see what people were saying, it would only put more strain on their already broken friendship. For once there had been no new publications but twitter was chaotic as always when she stumbled upon a tweet from a fan that caught her attention, linking to a video. ‘The bitch got what she deserved!’ Hesitantly Ha-na clicked on it, the quality was shaky and someone was breathing heavily and running while filming the street when loud voices could be heard in the near distance. “Oh my god! No.” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes focused on the screen. She wanted to look away, yet she couldn’t despite being repulsed by what she saw. “What’s up?” Taehyung sat up, trying to get a glimpse of what she was watching. “Nothing…” Not managing to lock her screen in time before he had already snatched it from her hand. The pure expression of shock on his face sent shivers down her body - she didn’t want him to see it, it would hurt him so much. He mumbled something, the others’ attention now on him as his eyes grew wider by the second. “What is it?” Jimin scooted over to his best friend to see what he was looking at. “Y/n…” In the blink of an eye, everyone had gathered around them, watching how a group of girls was pulling her hair, slapping her and calling her names, while she was on the ground trying to cover her face, pleading with them to leave her alone. The video wasn’t long, and after watching it a second time, Taehyung quickly dropped the phone and got up, hurrying to the small bathroom. Carefully her eyes wandered to Jungkook, his whole body was shaking and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Ha-na wasn’t sure how he was feeling; was he hurt, angry, disappointed or sad? His face showed no emotion, simply staring into nothingness, yet she knew there was a storm brewing inside of him. Seeing faceless comments through a screen was bad but actually hearing the words ‘you ruined his career, kill yourself’ coming from someone made her feel sick to her stomach. “That was…wow…” Hoseok breathed out, before rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “We have to do something, we can’t just let this happen.” “I’m going to see if she’s okay!” Jungkook grabbed his hoodie, ready to head for the door when Jimin quickly hopped over the back of the couch to stand in his way. “You can’t do that, you’ll get in trouble. You know, y/n wouldn’t want that. I’m sure, she’s fine.” He grabbed Jungkook’s arm, stopping him from pushing past him. “How can you say that? Those girls hit her because of me! I know her better than any of you, I know she’s not okay, I can feel it.” He tried wrenching his arm from Jimin’s grasp. “Hyung, get out of the way.” It was a weak warning, his voice getting caught in his throat. “Jungkook-ah, sit down.” Namjoon finally spoke up. “We can text or call her but you’re not allowed to leave the apartment without supervision so calm down.” The youngest caved in under the stern look on their leader’s face and slumped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. “They say, she ruined my career but do they not know how much it would hurt me when they hurt her?” The eldest gently wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “I don’t think they were thinking that far ahead, they wanted to protect you-” Jungkook scoffed. “Protect me? From what exactly? From the girl I love?” “Or protect your career? You worked so hard and they didn’t want it to be in vain?” “But that doesn’t justify their actions, they could’ve seriously hurt her.” Yoongi murmured while nibbling on his thumb. “They covered their faces like cowards.” Jungkook’s brows furrowed as Taehyung’s voice came from the bathroom. “We have to tell someone who can do something.” 

“Already sent the link to the managers.” Namjoon reassured the youngest members. “And I texted her, she says she’s okay and at home and doesn’t want you to worry, Kook.” Ha-na tried to cheer him up with a weak smile but he didn’t reciprocate it, he just gently pressed the white gold bangle to his lips. “She’s lying so I don’t worry about her…” With a drawn-out sigh, he let his head fall back; the pressure in his chest was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to do something, he wanted all of this to stop so they could go back to being together. There had to be a way and he was determined to find it. * “I’m very sorry, I won’t disappoint you again.” Jungkook finished, looking up at Jimin in the mirror. “How was that?” “It was good. You’ll do just fine.” A forced smile spread on his face, trying to encourage the youngest while he was practicing his apology that was scheduled for this afternoon. “You think? I mean, management approved it but does it sound… sincere? I don’t want to sound like I rehearsed it.” The older boy nodded. “Jungkookie, don’t worry so much! It will be okay.” “Okay, I trust you. You’re right! I can do this.” He looked down on his script. Jimin carefully eyed him, he still looked miserable but maybe this would encourage people to finally back off and drop the story. Taking a deep breath, he plugged the power cord into the wall socket next to the table. “Are you sure, you still want me to do this? You know, you really don’t have to!” “Yes, just do it. Get it over with.”

With shaking hands Jimin picked up the small black machine, turning it on with his thumb. “Where do you want me to start? On the side, so you can hide it in case you change your mind?” “Do whatever you want, I’m not going to look until you’re done.” Jungkook closed his eyes, silently mouthing the words of the script that was resting on his knees. The buzzing noise seemed to amplify in Jimin’s ears; he had promised to support Jungkook and to help him but now that he was actually going through with it, his mind fogged up with doubts. This was a stupid idea, nobody had asked for this gesture from him but he wanted to do it anyway - he wanted the fans to know that he was sorry for his actions. So now they were hiding in the youngest bedroom, just two hours before he was supposed to stand outside the company building and deliver a heartfelt apology to the public. An apology that Jimin thought was uncalled for; neither Jungkook nor y/n had leaked those videos on purpose, they weren’t to blame but the public’s opinion was different - they demanded a statement, an apology for causing such an uproar and breaking people’s trust. But as much as he hated how everything went down, Jimin still wanted his baby brother to be happy; he deserved to be happy and perhaps this was this only way of getting a tiny piece of happiness back. His eyes looked so - lifeless, that he almost couldn’t bear to see Jungkook like this any longer. His eyes scanned the blades moving at a rapid pace when he slowly raised his arm and held it to Jungkook’s hairline. “Are you still sure you want me to do this?” He asked again, making sure Jungkook really wanted this. “Hyung, yes!” He said firmly, as Jimin carefully cut off the first lock of raven hair, watching as it fell to the floor, followed by many more. It pained him to cut Jungkook’s hair short, only a few millimeters of it still covering his scalp. “I’m all done.” He announced, turning off the razor and putting it back down. “You can look now.” Nervously, he watched Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, fixating on his reflection in the mirror. His expression was blank as he ran his hand through what was left of his hair. Jimin wasn’t sure but he could’ve sworn for a millisecond he saw tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s not too bad, right?” “Yeah, it really brings out your eyes and it will grow back in no time, you’ll see.” He patted Jungkook’s shoulders, letting his fingers dig into his shirt for a brief moment. “And there’s always wigs or hats if you hate it later.” The younger boy chuckled. “I should get cleaned up.” “I’ll help you pick out an outfit if you want.” Jimin offered as Jungkook headed for the bathroom. “Thank you.” Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, letting his eyes wander around the room - not much had changed, apart from the box by the closet door that had y/n’s things in them that Jungkook couldn’t get rid off; a few clothes, a bottle of perfume and a few letters tied together with a ribbon.  Only now he had noticed that over the past months, he had not really been in here spending time with his little brother like they used to, playing video games or watching movies on his projector but knowing what had happened in here - it left a feeling of uncertainty floating in his stomach. Of course, he knew now that Jungkook had been hiding y/n in here a lot, trying to keep the secret well hidden from the other members. But Jimin couldn’t help but think that he had started to slip through their fingers a long time ago. Back in the day, they would’ve known immediately if something was wrong but ever since Jungkook had gotten older, he had developed a tendency to lock himself in his room whenever he could and if there was no schedule then he wouldn’t leave it for days. Jimin made a pact with himself - when all of this was over, he was going to make sure Jungkook was okay, that he would force him to come out of his room and go outside with him; it just didn’t feel right to leave him be, he needed to know that they all still wanted to spend time with him and that they would always be by his side, no matter what. * Jungkook was nervously hopping from one foot to the other as he was standing behind a screen waiting his turn while someone from the PR team was outside the company building, dealing with the press. He was used to all the flashing lights of the cameras and microphones being shoved in his face but this felt different - he was alone, his brothers weren’t by his side for moral support. His fingers wrapped around the bangle in the pocket of his blazer; for some reason, it comforted him. Although she had given it back to him, it was the only thing that kept the tiny spark of hope ignited in his chest. “We have found out that our artist’s private account was hacked by a third party, we are taking legal action against the hacker who invaded his privacy and we ask you to respect everybody’s privacy regarding the issue.” Jungkook’s ears picked up a few things here and there but his mind was preoccupied with the task at hand as his stomach churned. He wanted to throw up and run away; far, far away from all the people eagerly awaiting his apology but his legs felt like jello. [Jimin - 1:42pm] You’ll be okay! Just take deep breaths, it will be over before you know it! A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he read his brother’s message. Sometimes he really needed the encouragement from them; without them, he was lost. Sejin stuffed his own phone back into his pocket and nodded his head. “Are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be…” He mumbled, as two of the other managers and a few security guards surrounded him. “Just stick to the script and you’ll do just fine. You don’t have to answer any questions. Just apologize and we’ll head back home right after.” Sejin gently rested his hand on Jungkook’s back. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.” Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lip balm coated bottom lip, as his legs involuntarily started moving with people around him. The glass door opened and the sea of flashes drowned out the sheer amount of people in the street. His heart was pounding against his ribs, as he walked up to the microphone stand. As the whispers died down, he could feel his throat closing up and his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara Desert. Eyes wandering over the blurry faces, his breathing became labored. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t get a word out. Maybe he should have had a sip of alcohol to calm his nerves but it was too late. In a knee-jerk reaction to buy more time, he pulled his cap off, revealing his buzzed off hair and bowing down as deep as he could as gasps echoed in his ears, mixed with girls calling his name. “Jungkook..” His manager’s voice was very close to him. “Say something…” In slow-motion he lifted his upper body, carefully scanning the crowd when his eyes found her face - he knew she wasn’t there and that his mind was playing tricks on him but it was the small push he needed to find his voice. He was doing this for her, he wanted people to just leave her alone. She didn’t deserve any of this, she didn’t deserve to be attacked online and especially not getting beat up by fans in an alley at night. The stinging pain in his chest subsided when he finally cleared his throat and found his voice again. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to be here.” He paused, bowing his head again, trying to remember his lines but the memory of them got blurry, they were escaping him too quickly as he tried to hold onto them. “I-I just want to say, I’m very sorry for my actions. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I let down so many people with my reckless and shameful behavior.” His shaking fingers gripped on to the wooden stand of the mic for some support; Sejin’s hand calmly rested on his shoulder while the pressure it was executing felt like a ton of bricks was coming down on him as if Jungkook was about to run away and needed a reminder to stay still. “I’m so sorry to everyone and especially the fans who had to see me like this. I know, I broke your trust and disappointed all of you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me in the future and I promise to never let you down again. Army, you’re always on my mind and it really hurts me to have hurt so many of you with what I have done. Please forgive me.” After delivering his lines, he exhaled shakily; his face felt like it was on fire. “I won’t disappoint you again, I’m sorry.” The crowd was silently watching him, eagerly waiting for him to say something else as his mouth opened and closed without making a sound. “Let’s go, PR will do the rest.” His manager muttered, his hand scooting to Jungkook’s elbow to get him to turn around and go back inside. “One more thing…” Jungkook took a step forward again. “Please, leave her alone. We’re not seeing each other anymore. I-I… all I ask of you is to just leave her alone, please. She’s not in my life anymore…” He trailed off, his lips felt tense as he tried to hold it together. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled more to himself, slowly sinking to his knees on the pavement to bow one last time. The clicking of the cameras was overwhelming his senses, it almost felt like he wasn’t really inside his body anymore when he felt hands holding onto his arms and pulling him to his feet. Not needing much force, he wrenched his right arm free, hiding his tear-stained face in the crook of his elbow. “Come on…” Sejin’s voice was close to his ear as he let him guide him back inside, unsure of whether he did good or not but as soon as doors closed, the babel of alarmed voiced told him that he had gone too far. “What were you thinking going off script? Do you know how bad this could’ve been! We told you to stick to the script. Oh god…” The head of the PR team gestured wildly in front of his face. “I don’t know if we can fix this…Jungkook why do you always have to cause so much trouble?” She puffed up her cheeks before letting out a disappointed grunt. “I’m sorry.” He fixated his eyes on the ground. “It’s just…some fans attacked y/n and I-I just wanted to protect her. I wanted the fans to leave her alone. They should take their anger out on me and not on her.” He felt the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again, immediately trying to dry them with a tissue. “He didn’t say anything bad. He just asked them to leave her alone, it’s not a big deal.” Sejin interrupted before Hyejin could scold him some more. “I’ll take him home now.” Gently he nudged the raven-haired boy towards the elevator that would take them to the car. “Do you think I did the wrong thing?” Jungkook mumbled as he sunk deeper into the passenger seat, avoiding his manager’s gaze at all costs. “I mean it’s not ideal but it’s okay. I understand why you did it…” He trailed off, averting his attention to the road until they stopped at a red light. “I saw what they did to her, so I understand that you want to do something to protect her. If you want, I’ll request security for her until it all blows over.” Jungkook shook his head, still not used to not feeling his bangs brush against his forehead whenever he moved or touched his head. “I don’t think she would like that but I’ll have Ha-na ask her.” * Jungkook was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his back resting against the headboard, emptily staring at his laptop where he had put on a let’s play to keep his brain and body from going stir-crazy. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok opened the door, sticking his head inside his room. “I thought, maybe you wanted something to eat? You haven’t had anything all day.” The older one came in, closing the door behind him before proceeding to sit on the foot of the bed. Carefully he placed the plate on the mattress between them, pulling a can of coke from the pocket of his hoodie. “Did you make that?” Jungkook eyed the sandwich from all angles, lifting the plate up to eye level. “Jin hyung helped me, he said I was stacking the ingredients in the wrong order.” The older one rolled his eyes before a smile spread on his face. “But I think there’s no wrong order, it’ll taste the same no matter what.” He winked, opening the can, and placing it on the nightstand. Jungkook chuckled. “You’re right.” He wasn’t particularly hungry but since his brother had been so kind as to make him something to eat, he eagerly took a bite. “Delicious.” He pressed out while chewing the bread. “Good, I’m glad you like it.” Hoseok reached out to pat his head but Jungkook pulled away immediately - he felt self-conscious, even more so after getting scolded by his hyungs for cutting his hair short. Not wanting to admit that he had lost some of his confidence with each strand that had been cut off - but maybe that was what he deserved, after putting everyone around him through so much. For a while they just sat on his bed, Hoseok watching him devour the food and sipping on the sugary beverage - neither of them saying a word but the silence didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it did just days ago, at least to the older one it didn’t. “Jungkookie, listen…” With wide eyes, he stared at Hobi when he finally spoke. “I didn’t just come here to bring you food, I actually wanted to say something.” “Okay?” Anxiety was making his chest feel tight; instantly regretting eating the sandwich as he was about to throw it back up. He didn’t need to get scolded again, he didn’t want to hear yet again what a terrible person he was and that he couldn’t do anything right these days. “I just wanted to, you know, tell you that we’re okay.” Almost choking on his own saliva, Jungkook cleared his throat. “We’re okay?” He repeated dumbfounded. “Yes, we are. I know, I wasn’t really supportive and judgmental at first but I just didn’t know what to think or how to handle the situation. I hope you understand where I’m coming from… I had to sort through my thoughts and came to the conclusion that I was just worried about you and our career. You are like family to me, JK; I want what’s best for you and I know, you’re probably mad at me too but I’m here for you now.”  “I was never mad at you.” He mumbled, averting his gaze to white bedding between them. “I know I disappointed all of you. I never wanted you to find out what I did, especially not like this.” “I know that but let’s just put in the past, okay?” Hoseok carefully placed his hand on Jungkook’s knee. “You’re going through so much right now and I just want to be here for you and help you. It really hurts to see you so sad all the time.” A weak smile tugged at his lips. “I’m going to be okay, you don’t have to worry.” “I worry about you all the time, we all do. So please, Jungkookie, if you need to talk to someone, we’re all here for you, you know that right?” “Hyung, I know that.” 

* Jimin knocked on the door, a short knock followed by two quick ones - their not so secret sign that it was either one of them before he entered the youngest room, who was busy pulling out clothes from his closet and throwing them on the floor. 

“Is that what you wanted help with? Sorting out your clothes?” Jimin mused, trying to find a free piece of flooring for him to step closer to Jungkook. “Hyung, no…I-” He gasped, practically ripping a hoodie from a hanger. “I have a plan, and I need your help.” “A plan? A plan that involves donating clothes to charity?” “No…” Jungkook held two identical-looking black hoodies up. “I’m going to see y/n.” “WHAT?” Jimin’s eyes grew wide, the sheer panic was straining his voice. “You’re not allowed to do that, you will get into trouble.” “I know but I don’t care. I just want to see her and I’m not going to wait any longer.” “And how do you plan on doing that, huh? We still have security around and last time I checked, the press is still waiting outside.” “That’s where you’ll come in…” There was a dangerous twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes that could only mean trouble but Jimin was more than intrigued and willing to help. “Do you want me to call you a taxi? Because I have my phone right here.” “No, you’ll help me sneak past security and the press, I’ll take care of the rest.” “I will need more details…” “Go get your black sweat pants and Vans, I’ll explain it to you when you get back here.” Jimin was confused, but he blindly followed the instructions as he quickly walked back to his room. For once happy that Hoseok was so adamant about his skincare routine that he had the room to himself for a bit. “What are you doing? I saw you sneaking into Jk’s room.” A deep voice made him spin around on his heels. Taehyung was walking towards him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’m just helping him with something.” “With what?” “I can’t tell you.” Immediately he regretted saying those words to his best friend, who looked so hurt that his lips pursed trying to hide his dismay. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you but you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul what we’re doing.” “Promise.” He held up his pinky, so Jimin could wrap his own around it. “Stamp it.” They said in unison when they twisted their hands so the pads of their thumbs could meet. “We’re trying to sneak Jk out of here so he can go check on y/n.” “What?” Taehyung whisper yelled.  “Yeah, please don’t tell anyone.” “I won’t.” Taehyung locked eyes with him. “I will help you.” “What?” Jimin was confused, Taehyung was still mad at them, why was he now offering to help Jungkook? “Yes, I want to know if she’s okay too…” He muttered, his cheeks turning pink. “Ever since I saw what happened to her, I’ve been worried sick. I know she loves Jungkook and she probably wants to see him too…so I’m going to help him.” An overwhelming feeling spread in Jimin’s chest, although Taehyung was so deeply hurt by what they had done, he still loved them; putting aside his own hurt to help his friends. Jimin felt his eyes tearing up, quickly wiping them with his sleeve. “I’m sure, Jungkookie will appreciate your help, Taetae.” He ruffled the younger one's hair. “You’ll need black sweats and a matching hoodie, so go grab them.” Tae nodded, hurrying back to his room to grab his clothes. A small part of Jimin was unsure whether Jungkook would approve of this but for the time being, he was just glad that Taehyung was coming around; it was the first step to mending the broken friendships. They stood in front of the mirror, the three of them wearing matching black outfits, a black mask to cover half their faces and the hoods pulled deep down their foreheads. “I think this will work, it’s dark outside if we move fast, they won’t notice a difference.” Taehyung muttered, adjusting his mask once again. “Jungkook-ah, don’t do anything stupid. If it’s too risky, we will find another way, okay?” “Sure, yeah.” He lied, not an ounce of his body was going to give up on seeing her tonight. Every nerve inside of him was missing her, he couldn’t wait - each minute that passed felt like torture. He was losing her, she was getting further and further away from him and there was nothing he could do - it was like he was trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. “Then let’s go.” Jimin clapped his hands together and they quietly walked out into the hallway, trying not to make a sound. Jimin knew that this idea was stupid beyond belief and he didn’t quite understand why he was participating in it but helping Jungkook was more important, they could deal with the repercussions later, together.  “Where do you think you’re going?” Jin’s voice made the three boys flinch when he turned on the light. “Why are you dressed like that?” “We…uhm…” Jimin tried to come up with a white lie but his brain was slowing down.  “I’m going to see y/n!” Jungkook said bluntly. “And they’re helping me.” 

Jimin quickly rammed his elbow into the youngest ribs to shut him up but it was too late. They would now have to go back to their rooms without even the slightest chance of leaving the building. “I’m appalled.” The eldest clicked his tongue. “There’s no way for you to get past security, especially for you Jungkook.” “We’ll find a way. We have to.” He stuttered, not having an idea of how to even leave the apartment without having to face the guard outside. “You should’ve just come to me earlier.” “What?” “I’ll help you. Wait by the door, you’ll know when the time is right.” Jin winked at them, before grabbing his car keys from the sideboard and leaving the apartment. Taehyung quickly grabbed the door-handle, making sure it didn’t close and they could listen to what was going on. “I just need to grab something from my car, I’ll be right back.” “Alright, sir.” The stern security guard said, not moving an inch from his chair. “How is that supposed to help us get out?” Jungkook rolled his eyes, he was getting antsy waiting for something to happen. The others shrugged, pressing their ears to the door, focusing on any sign from the oldest member. Only a few minutes later, Jin’s panicked voice suddenly echoed through the hallway. “You need to go down to the parking garage. I saw some people down there sneaking around.” “What?” “Yes, I think they’re trying to get access to the building.” A lot of rustling was making it difficult for them to understand what was going on but soon Jin pulled the door open. “Go.” He whispered. “They should be distracted for a while.” “Thank you.” Jungkook mouthed, as he hurried towards the stairs, following the older boys as they sprinted down to the exit. For once, luck was on their side and they soon stood underneath the trees, hiding in complete darkness. “How are we going to do this now?” Taehyung was trying to catch his breath, his hand pressing into his side where he felt a sting. His heart was racing and his breathing was labored, the adrenaline rush was making him feel lightheaded. Jungkook exhaled. “You go out first, make sure they see you. You’ll have to move quickly and then Jimin will do the same and if the timing’s right, I’ll go.” “Do you think that will work?” Jimin questioned, still not convinced that the plan was well thought out. “I don’t know, we will see, I guess.” They quickly moved to the exit, where the press was still gathered at this hour. Quietly they hid behind a wall, giving them the perfect view of their playing field. Jungkook watched how Taehyung pulled the hood deep down his face, speed walking on the right side to sneak away behind the spectators but they easily spotted him, almost attacking him with microphones and cameras. “Jimin-ah, go.” He nodded, making sure the mask was covering his mouth before he ran out on the left side, making the paparazzi almost break their necks. “That’s him! That’s him!” A woman screeched and they collectively hurried after Jimin, who was running like the devil himself was chasing him down the street. Taehyung was leaning against the wall, waving his hand by his side of his body and that was all Jungkook needed to sprint past him as fast as he could. There was no time to thank his brothers, he would do that later, now he had to focus on running and getting enough distance between him and all those people. He didn’t care that the cold air was making his eyes water, he didn’t care that his legs were starting to feel weak; he had to keep going; repeating her name over and over in his head. A loud banging on the door made her sit up straight in her bed, her body involuntarily started shaking right away. Did they find out where she lived? Did they follow her home? She wasn’t quite sure if she really heard someone calling her name, or if she was imagining it as she slowly got up and quietly walked towards the door. “Y/n open the door, please.” She recognized his voice instantly, her fingers wrapping tightly around the handle before pressing it down; she had no strength left in her to fight the need to see his face. “Kookie, what are you…” Without a word, he stepped inside closing the door with his foot before wrapping his arms around her to hide his face in the crook of her neck. Hesitantly her nails dug into his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in her fists. He didn’t say anything, she just felt his tears on her skin burning like acid rain. When her grip loosened, he pulled away from her but keeping his gaze low. “We should go to my room.” “Okay.” He followed her with his heart hammering in his chest; he had noticed her hesitation and it made it harder for him to breathe. What if coming here was not a good idea?  Reluctantly they stood facing each other but her brows furrowed and her hand went up to his head, pulling the hood down - eyes widening when she saw it. Jungkook felt queasy, he didn’t want her to see his hair this short. “I-I…noona…” “I like it, you look manlier.” Biting down on her bottom lip, she forced her lips into a smile to suppress the tears that were about to spill from her eyes. Gently, she ran her hand over his head, making him lean into her touch. “I really do like it, you look handsome.” Jungkook let out a staggered breath; what she thought mattered most to him and if she liked it then he would be able to like it too, eventually, maybe. Only now he noticed the bruises on her cheeks, the little cuts on her forehead. “I’m sorry they did that to you.” He swallowed an invisible lump, his fingers gently reaching out to touch her cheek but she moved her head away from him. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” “Are you really?” She nodded but it wasn’t convincing enough, he pulled her in close, ever so lightly he cupped her face to press the lightest of kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Eyes swimming in tears, she looked up at him. “You still love me…?” Jungkook felt tears running down his cheeks. “Yes, I still love you.” He didn’t know why but he leaned in for a kiss - he just wanted to be with her and not think of anything that happened over the past couple of days. The moment their lips touched he felt a hiccup in his heartbeat like when he missed a step. Everything just felt for so right again like they belonged together and he was sure she must have been sensing it too. Deepening the kiss, his tongue was practically begging for access when out of the blue she pushed him away. “What’s wrong?” He asked, not able to wrap his head around what just happened. “Go! You need to leave. This isn’t good, okay?” “Wait! Why? I don’t want to leave, I want to be with you!” “Jungkook you have to go!” He didn’t understand; mere seconds ago she was kissing him back and now she was telling him to leave, but he didn’t want to, not yet at least. His eyes were focusing in on the bracelet that she was still wearing, and so did he. She never took it off, not even after she broke up with him, just like he promised her on that day at the beach… To Jungkook’s own surprise, lies were rolling off his tongue so easily these days - without batting an eye, he had told his hyungs that he was taking Yina out for the day. When in reality, it was y/n’s day off and he wanted to spend it with her, far away from people they knew to lower the risk of getting caught. In the early hours of the morning, he had picked her up to take her to Naksan beach which was four hours away from Seoul, on the opposite coastline. Contrary to road trips with Yina, who enjoyed just watching the scenery, the drive with y/n was different - they would sing together, she’d feed him snacks she packed and when they got quiet, she played with his hair while watching the sunrise. In Jungkook’s opinion, the drive itself was perfect - even if they would never arrive at their destination, he was truly happy that day. After exploring Yangyang and eating a ridiculously big lunch, they finally went to the beach, walking along the pier to the little red lighthouse to take some pictures. He recalled being here for a photo shoot not too long ago but back then they didn’t have time to wander around and enjoy the beautiful view of the ocean. The weather was dreary, clouds in all shades of gray forming a big cluster on the sky, making them the only two people who dared to visit the beach that day. “Can you put him in your pocket?” She held out the little plush bunny in swimming shorts that he had bought for her at a small souvenir shop in town. “I don’t want to get him wet.” “Of course.” He neatly tucked the bunny in the pocket of his jacket, making sure the button was secured, not wanting to risk losing it. She smiled up at him while rolling up her jeans and stuffing her socks into her sneakers before she ran towards the shoreline to dip her feet into crystal clear water. “It’s so cold.” She squealed, jumping from one foot to the other. “Come on, hurry up!” “I’m coming.” He called, slowly slipping off his own shoes but watching her run away from the waves that crashed on the sand was a lot more fun than doing it himself. The sand felt soft underneath his feet when he made his way over, making sure his eyes never left her. It dawned on him that he had never noticed, until now, how cute she actually was. Of course, he knew how beautiful she was but her little squeals whenever a wave caught up to her made his heart melt - he really was the luckiest guy on earth to have found his soulmate without even having to look for her. It was almost like he had never properly understood what real love felt like until he looked in her eyes; the thought often crossed his mind but a part of him thought it was ridiculous to even think that way. His heart, on the other hand, was sure that she was the girl he’d be spending the rest of his life with. “What are you doing?” Her voice caught him off guard, he hadn’t noticed that he was standing still, just looking at her. “I-I was just thinking…” He trailed off, ears turning a deep shade of pink underneath his cap while she was walking towards him, her hand stretched out for him to hold. “Kookie, don’t think about what happens when we get back to Seoul, please. I want to have a nice day, okay?” He nodded, lacing their fingers together - if only she knew what had been on his mind. She lifted their hands up to press a chaste kiss on the back of his hand before she started running, pulling him along with her. The water was cold but it felt unbelievably good, he couldn’t remember the last time he went to a beach just to have some fun and not for something work-related. For a while, they played catch with the waves and splashed each other with water until he felt exhaustion spreading to his limbs.  He sat down in the sand; just far enough so the water couldn’t reach him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, letting the fresh salty air fill his lungs and the gusts of wind caressed his skin and at that moment he felt complete, the missing puzzle pieces were all in place like nothing could go wrong. He felt her presence, his eyes fluttering open as she was about to sit down next to him but he quickly pulled her in between his legs so she could lean against his chest. Tightly he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. Neither of them said a word, just watching a few stray clouds letting hints of the hidden blue sky peek through the cracks; the calming sound of the waves crashing on the shore seemed to drown out the whole world around them. Her fingers gently played with his as she shifted a little to rest her head against his shoulder. “I wish every day could be like this.” She mumbled softly, making his heart ache. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, he really did and he would go to the end of the world for her if that meant she was happy. Jungkook leaned down, gingerly pressing his lips on top of her head. “Then I’ll take you to the beach every day and every day can be like this.” And although they both knew that it was just a fantasy and would never be possible, he heard the smile in her voice when she whispered “Okay.” Suddenly she untangled his arms from around her torso and kneeled down in front of him, still between his legs. “I wanted to give you something…” Her hand slid into the pocket of her jacket. “Close your eyes.” He did as he was told, her shaking fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Hold still.” He could hear she was concentrating when something cold touched his skin and he fought the urge to flinch. “Okay, you can open your eyes.” Looking down on his wrist, there was a black leather bracelet with a silver plate. “I- y/n, you didn’t have to..” “Yes I had to, you did all this for today.” She paused, pulling up her sleeve to reveal the same bracelet on her wrist but the delicate metal plate was rose-gold. “Thank you for making our 100th day anniversary so special.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his and his heart stopped. He didn’t know, he had absolutely no idea it was their anniversary. Maybe because they were keeping their relationship a secret and they never had a real official first date, or maybe it was because she had mentioned that those things didn’t really matter to her anyway that he had paid no attention as to how many days they had been together. He felt like a jerk but he knew that if he told her the truth it would break her heart and that was the last thing he wanted. “I’m never taking it off, thank you.” He pulled her in closer, crashing his lips on hers; hoping that she could feel how much he loved her. “Can you at least look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to leave?” His voice was fragile; he was scared that she would do it and he could already feel the cracks in his heart getting bigger with every breath he took without her giving him an answer. “If you can’t say it when looking at me…” “Then what? You’re not going to leave?” He shook his head, ready to stand his ground; he wasn’t going to leave now, not after what he had been through to get here. “No, I won’t because I don’t really think you want me to…” Throwing her hands up in frustration, she let out a sigh. “What part of us being together is bad, don’t you understand?” “I don’t understand because you and I is the only good thing that has come from all of this.” “But there is no you and me anymore! I ruined everything.” “What do you mean you ruined everything?” “I ruined your friendships, as well as my own and your career. I shouldn’t be around you and that’s why there is no you and me anymore. Got it?” His mouth opened and closed without making a sound; did she really think she was the only one responsible for what happened - that she was the only one hurting all the time? “So can you please just leave?” She mumbled, looking down at her feet but he couldn’t get his own to move. “No, noona... I don’t want you to think that you ruined everything. You didn’t, you made everything better for me.” Carefully he moved in a little bit closer, wanting to wrap his arms around her and just hold her until she understood that he was all in and wouldn’t go anywhere, even if she didn’t want him to stay. She let out a sigh. “You say that now because you don’t want to see that I fucked everything up.” Slowly she sat down on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her pajama top to keep her busy from doing something she’d regret. “You really didn’t, I promise.” Sitting down next to her, he got a good look at the bruises on her legs; he wasn’t the only one who had been through hell and back these past days. He was desperately looking for something he could say - something that would make her change her mind and just take him back. It didn’t matter that to him that he would’ve lied to everyone again, he needed to be with her and if that meant the end of his career then so be it; he was willing to give up his dreams for her but he knew that if he voiced his thoughts, she would never let that happen. After a while, he cleared his throat that was threatening to close up. “So…do you really want me to leave?” His tongue had trouble forming the words; he had imagined that him showing up at her place would go differently. He had been sure that she would’ve been happy to finally see him again but he had never been so wrong in his life. She adjusted her position to face him; Jungkook was preparing himself to go home and hide in bed when her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips hungrily pressed on his. He was in shock; he didn’t see it coming so all he could do for a moment was stare at her face before his eyes fluttered shut and kissed her back. Licking into his mouth, her hands started pulling at his hoodie, wanting to remove the unwanted item of clothing. Firmly his hands wrapped around her wrists as he broke away from her. “Noona, what does this-“ 

Her index finger pressed to his open mouth while she placed soft kisses to his jawline. “Ssshhh just be with me now…” Jungkook nodded, despite being confused. His mind was racing but he still couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, although he had so many questions that were still unanswered. Deliberately she pulled the hoodie over his head before reconnecting their lips in a somewhat innocent kiss. Almost immediately he felt her fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweat pants, rushing to get rid of everything that separated them. “Noona…” He attempted to mumble into the kiss, this time she pulled away. “Kookie, please.” Her whiny voice was the last push he needed to gently push her down into the pillows on the bed. Kissing her again, his trembling fingers started unbuttoning her top; his nerves were getting the upper hand like they did the first time they slept together. Their tongues were shyly playing a game of catch as her nails gently scratched over his bare shoulders; he could still taste the all too familiar traces of her vanilla lip balm, maybe not everything had changed. Blindly his hand cupped her breast, rolling the bud between his index finger and thumb, instantly evoking a soft whimper from her as her hips bucked up, colliding with his.  Leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck to the rosy mounds of flesh, sucking the hardening bud into his mouth. Jungkook groaned when a delicious moan reached his ears, making his member twitch excitedly in its soft fabric prison. Gingerly he let his hand followed the curve of her body when he licked his way back up to her mouth.  “Please touch me…” A whisper that held so much power over him.  Her skin was covered in goosebumps as he reached the waistband of her panties, letting his fingertips slip inside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” Jungkook mumbled against her neck as she held on tightly to his shoulder while his middle finger ventured down her core; gasping when it dipped inside just a bit to gather some of her juices. Lips glued to her neck, he let his fingertips trace her lips, wanting to remember how every inch of her body felt - he needed to engrave it into his memory just in case this was the last time he would get to touch her. “Baby…” She whined when he finally circled in around her clit, avoiding the spot that would soon make her squirm. Peppering soft kisses up to her ear, where he gently nibbled on her lobe. “I missed you so much, you don’t even know…” Jungkook’s voice was low and raspy when he spoke, eliciting a small cry from her when his fingers applied more pressure around the sensitive nub. “I missed kissing you…” Her nails dug deeper into his skin as she tried to keep quiet, only betrayed by her own hips who tried so desperately to get more friction than Jungkook was supplying. He exhaled, stopping the motion of his fingers, nervous anticipation filling the gap between them. “I missed touching you…” Arching her back off the mattress when he finally grazed the spot he’d been avoiding deliberately, her legs squirming against his at the newfound waves of pleasure coming down on her. “Stay still, baby.” He softly chuckled, managing to trap at least one of her legs underneath his right. Fondly he smiled down on her as he watched her blossom under his ministrations, pressing her arm to her mouth to muffle the repeated moans of his name. Until now Jungkook had never realized how amazing it was to watch her fall apart; he did enjoy using his tongue but being able to see how her face flushed and her lashes fluttered from the little circles his fingers were drawing was out of this world - making him fall in love with her all over again. 

“P-please stop.” She tried to wiggle away from him a little; normally he would keep going, knowing that she was getting close but he paused, giving her enough time to slip her hand down his sweats and wrap it around his length. “Noona…ahh.” His voice hitched and his head fell back when she slowly started rubbing her thumb over the tip, coating it with the beads of precum that just kept spilling. Her touch was very light but he was so desperate to feel her that his body reacted erratically, bucking his hips into her hand; never wanting her to stop. Trailing sweet kisses up his neck until she reached his lips, she delicately sucked on his bottom lip, making it throb in her mouth; her hand moving up and down his dick painfully slow, feeling him getting harder by the second. Jungkook whimpered, almost melting in his briefs. He was getting ready to distract himself from his own pleasure by touching her again when she broke the kiss. “Kookie…” There was no moaning, no outcry to get him to touch her and his heart sank for a second, fearing that they had gone too far. “Love me…” She whispered softly, looking up at him, her other hand cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, relishing the warm feeling spreading in his chest before shifting his body weight to his knees, he placed a kiss to her lips, fully prepared to show her how much he loved her. Kneeling down between her legs, he gently lifted them to roll her panties up to discard them on the floor next to the bed, before spreading them again. “I’m so lucky, you’re so handsome.” She smiled lovingly, wanting to reach up to touch his face but he wouldn’t let her, making her pout in return. A little too eagerly, Jungkook pushed down his sweats and briefs - his heart hiccuping in anticipation of being one with her again. Holding and kissing her was amazing but sleeping with her always felt different to him; it was some form of a deeper connection he couldn’t even begin to explain. Lying down on top of her, supporting most of his weight on his arms next to her shoulders, he started peppering small kisses all over her cheeks to her lips, letting his tongue disappear in her mouth to taste her again. Slowly grinding against her core, just to make sure she was still wet enough for him when she whimpered into the kiss; the engorged tip of his member applying enough pressure to her clit to send her flying again.  Shoving his one hand between their bodies to line himself up, before he pushed the tip inside, the feeling of bliss washing over him as he felt the velveteen walls hugging his dick. “Is that okay?” He asked, brushing her hair from her face. “More than okay.” She smiled, puckering up her lips for yet another kiss.  Jungkook was moving slowly, taking his sweet time, enjoying every little noise he was eliciting from her with each stroke. Her nails were digging into his shoulder blades, clinging onto him for dear life, as if it was just a dream and he would disappear the moment she woke up. Their lips were glued together, only ever breaking apart to up their oxygen intake before diving back in for more. He adjusted his position, pushing her legs up to his sides so she could rest her calves on his lower back - his body was ready to chase his down his high but he had to shift his focus on hers first. When he bottomed out after a hard thrust, she pulled away, letting her head fall back. “Oh god, right there.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; he loved that she always let him know when he was hitting the right spot. “’s that good, baby?” He asked, hips slamming into her much harder than before but she couldn’t answer him, too busy trying to muffle her moans against his skin. He wanted her to let herself fall and just bathe in the waves of pleasure washing over her body but he could tell she was holding back a little. Jungkook sucked on his fingers, letting his hand venture down to the swollen bundle of nerves to rub it again. Gasping for air, she locked eyes with him as she let out whiny moans of his name. “Jungkook-ah…” “It’s okay baby, you can cum. Don’t wait for me.” He encouraged her, sucking a small bruise on the column of her throat. Bottoming out with every thrust, he knew that she needed him to go faster to reach her high. Alternating between little figure-eights and flicking her clit, he knew she would soon reach the point of no return. Her moans were fogging up his brain - each one higher in pitch than the last, making it difficult for him to keep a steady pace. The knot in his stomach that was pulling itself tighter and tighter was about to snap but he had to keep going, they were both so unbelievably close that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, her hips now meeting his halfway. “You feel so good.” Jungkook panted, her convulsing walls trying to milk him dry; his scrotum contracting dangerously.  “Baby!” She whined a heads up, her left hand fisting the sheets while the other tightly squeezed his biceps, the stinging feeling of his skin completely subdued by the rush of her high. He was in a daze, watching her come undone, her loud moans ringing in his ears as his member suddenly erupted when he bottomed out, hot white streams of cum painting her walls as white as snow. Letting his body sink onto hers, he buried his face in the crook of her neck as his own orgasm washed over him. “I love you, baby…I love you so much…I love you” He let out a slurry of moans against her sweat glistening skin, thrusting sloppily to get every last drop as deep inside of her as he could, never wanting to come down from this high. Breathing heavily but staying still, he softly pressed little pecks to her shoulder when a sob shook him to his core. He lifted his head up to look at her but hers was turned the other way. “Noona, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” “No, I’m fine…j-just ignore me.” She blubbered, trying to wipe the tears away without him noticing. He pulled out to lie down beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. “Tell me what’s wrong…let me fix it.” He whispered; the dopamine from his orgasm that had rushed through his veins, vanishing instantly. “No, no it’s okay…just give me a minute.” But he couldn’t, the world no longer made sense to him; he just couldn’t come up with a reason why she suddenly broke down in tears after he had just told her how much he loved her when she had wanted him to make love to her. “Noona, it’s not okay. You wouldn’t be crying if it was.” She turned around in his arms, burying her face against his chest, her tears feeling like a thousand needles poking and prodding at his skin. “I-I…” A choked sob riddled her body, his embrace tightening around her. He felt so lost, not knowing what to do or how to comfort her. Was he supposed to just hold her and let her cry? But that was easier said than done when he felt tears pricking at his own eyes. “I love you so much, Kookie and it just sucks that we can’t…be together anymore.” “Yes, we can be together, don’t say that.” Desperation was flaring up in his chest as the tears finally escaped their prison. “No, we can’t and you know it.” The sniffles were muffled against his quickly rising chest. “But why? I’m here now. I will always be here.” “Because I’m holding you back and…” He wanted to go deaf so that he wouldn’t have to hear her say any of that nonsense. “- and I’m just standing in your way and ruining your career and I don’t want that. I want you to be happy even if it’s without me.” “But how am I supposed to be happy without you?” His heart was slowly crumbling to pieces, not able to grasp the concept that he could ever be okay without her in his life.  “I don’t know but eventually you’ll move on with someone else…” Untangling his arms from her, he sat up, forcing her to do the same. She didn’t know one bit, how much he had suffered from being separated from her, his heart felt like it was incomplete, missing its other half.  “I won’t! After everything, we went through…I don’t want anyone else. I want you, don’t you get it?” Averting her eyes to the pillows, she tried to avoid looking at him - tears rapidly flowing down his cheeks. “I want you too but you know, sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how badly you want them to.” “Bullshit! You just let those stupid comments get to you and now you’re pushing me away because those people made you believe you’re not good for me.” “But they are right…” She weakly protested. “If you truly believed that, you would’ve taken your bracelet off but you’re still wearing it…do not lie to me like that.” He inhaled shakily, feeling like someone was standing on his chest, infringing on his ability to breathe properly. As if she was reminiscing, her fingertips traced the metal plate on the bracelet. “I just want what’s best for you…and it’s not me.” “Y/n, you know that we are meant to be together. You have said it yourself that we are soulmates, how can you even say that we’re not supposed to be together?” “You have to grow up and learn that you can’t always get what you want. This isn’t a candy store…” “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re trying so hard to keep us apart with those stupid reasons…” He got up, pulling his pants up and reaching for his hoodie on the floor. He could tell that she wanted to say something but she kept quiet, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks and onto her bare chest. “I’m not going to give up so easily…you will see that we are meant to be together and I don’t care what anyone says and you shouldn’t either…maybe you can grow up and learn that we are a thing that’s worth fighting for.”  His hand slid into the pocket of his hoodie, holding tightly onto the white gold Love bracelet, before placing it on her nightstand.  “This is yours because I’m yours.” 

*

“Where is he?” Namjoon was pacing up and down the living room, checking his watch for the hundredth time in the past 20 minutes, after they had noticed that Jungkook wasn’t home or nowhere to be found anywhere in the apartment complex, or around on the premisses to clear his head. “I’d like to know that too…” Yoongi was unusually worried, eyeing the other members who were quietly sitting on the sofa, pretending they couldn’t hear a word they were saying. “You guys know something...” Hoseok contemplated, tapping on his chin with his index finger. “I’m sure of it, you all look really suspicious…” “Exactly! Spill it!” Yoongi agreed while Namjoon tried calling the youngest yet again. “What? We don’t know anything.” Jin shrugged his shoulders. “I think, we should just calm down, he’ll be home soon. I’m sure, he just needed to blow off some steam. Did anyone check the gym?” “He’s not picking up.” The leader informed the group when the heavy front door opened and closed and Jungkook dragged his feet into the living room. “Where have you been? We were worried about you!” Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon scolded him in unison. “Out.” He mumbled, his eyes were puffy from crying and he wanted nothing more than to hide in his bedroom and don’t see or talk to anyone. “Out?” Namjoon repeated. “You do know that you are not allowed to go out without supervision? We were worried that something happened to you and all you say is ‘out’?” “But it didn’t. I’m fine, nobody saw me.” “Jungkook-ah…” Jimin said softly, he could tell by the look on his face that something wasn’t right. “What did she say?” “Who?” Hobi interrupted but Jimin indicated with his hand for him to stay quiet. “We’re not getting back together…” “You went to see y/n?” Usually, Namjoon always stayed calm but the tension on his face told everyone that he was getting upset at the youngest for breaking the rules when they all needed to be extra careful. “I’m sorry, Jk.” Jin smiled sadly. “It’s okay…if you don’t mind, I wanna be alone for a bit.” “Sure thing.” Jimin reached out and gave his hand a light squeeze. “If you want some company, we’re here for you, okay?” The youngest nodded and disappeared down the hallway to seek comfort in his bedroom. Namjoon scoffed. “I can’t believe, he actually did that…he’s trying really, really hard to get into trouble these days.” “Lay off him! He’s having a hard time right now!” Jin furrowed his eyebrows, letting out an elongated sigh. “Are you serious? He’s doing one reckless thing after the other.” “Maybe it was bound to happen that he acted out…” Yoongi pondered. “I mean, he always had to behave and stay in line…” “He’s not acting out, he just wanted to see her after what happened to her. It’s normal, he’s in love with her.” Jimin defended Jungkook, who wasn’t present to fight for himself. “We should be supportive now. You guys heard that they’re not getting back together. I think he needs us.” “You’re right…” Namjoon gave in, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “He really does need us right now.”  While the others were discussing how they could cheer their little brother up, Taehyung slipped out into the hallway unnoticed; quietly he walked towards Jungkook’s room. Stopping a few times, wanting to turn around but he couldn’t. A part of him was still hurt, his heart aching every time he thought about either one of them but the anger he felt had subsided slowly, at times he felt an overwhelming amount of disappointment flooding his mind but he kept telling himself that it was natural to feel that way after being lied to by two of your best friends. It struck him as odd to feel pity for Jungkook when he had caused all of this trouble in the first place, but he did - seeing his little brother heartbroken wasn’t something he could ignore and he knew that y/n was feeling the same, the urge to comfort her as well rearing its head in the pit of his stomach. Taehyung inhaled, as if to gather up all the courage he could muster and knocked on the door, faintly he heard the youngest mumble a ‘yes’ and he quickly opened and closed the door behind him. Jungkook was lying on his bed, trying to hide the tissue he had used to soak up the tears under his pillow, while Taehyung sat down next to him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay..” “Oh yeah, I am…” Jungkook didn’t even have to fake a smile; he was genuinely happy that Tae was finally speaking to him again. “You didn’t have to check on me but thank you, hyung!” “I was worried about you…you said, she doesn’t want to get back together?” He shook his head, his eyes drooping in sadness. “She says, she loves me but we can’t be together.” “And why’s that?” Taehyung tilted his head, confused as to why his best friend didn’t want to be with his little brother anymore. “Stupid reasons like she’s holding me back and ruining my career. I think she let those people get into her head.” Jungkook’s eyes shot up when his older brother chuckled. “What’s so funny?” “Ah, Jungkookie…” Tae patted his head. “I don’t know if you know this yet but y/n can be very, very stubborn. She thinks she’s right about something but eventually, she will realize that she’s wrong and I’m pretty sure she will come around.” “How do you kn-?”  “I’ve known her my whole life, remember? It’s her thing, always been like that.”  Jungkook sighed, his lips jutting out into a pout.  “I wish she would hurry up and realize how wrong she is…”  “Don’t worry, it’ll happen sooner than you think.” They fell silent for a moment; it wasn’t uncomfortable this time around. It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders and they both knew, that they would be able to overcome this hurdle in their friendship. 

“Hyung…” The younger one muttered, piddling at his comforter. “I’m sorry, I lied to you. I should’ve been honest with you from the start. I really hope, you can fully forgive me one day.” “I’m not saying it doesn’t still hurt but I’m not mad anymore…and I’d like that.” Tae smiled shyly when Jimin barged into the room without knocking, stopping in his tracks when his eyes fell on both boys sitting across from each other on the bed. “What is going on?” “We were just talking.” Taehyung assured him. “What’s up?” As soon as he asked, the other members squeezed through the door, piling up in the small space between the door and the bed. “It’s only 10pm, let’s go out to eat and maybe karaoke after!” All the members were nodding enthusiastically behind Jimin. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jungkook questioned, not wanting to get into any more trouble. “Yes, we talked to the managers and they said it’s okay if it’s just us. They’re sending a car, so go get dressed.” Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, welcoming the distraction with open arms. “Jungkookie you think of a restaurant where you want to go.” Jin called as he was walking away to his room to get dressed as well. It was almost like nothing ever happened between them, they were cooped up in a small private room at Jungkook’s favorite restaurant, eating and drinking while talking about anything that popped into their heads. Jungkook hated to admit it but he had missed his brothers very much; all the sneaking around and hiding away from them, had involuntarily built a barrier between them and with each laughter that filled the room, he could feel it breaking down. After Jimin had recovered from sliding off his chair from laughing so hard after Hoseok had spilled beer all over Yoongi’s new phone, Jungkook cleared his throat. “So…you’re all not mad at me anymore, right?” Carefully he looked at his older brothers, eyes swimming in tears as he waited for their reply. He knew, he was ruining the mood but the question was eating him up inside - he would’ve hated to find out later that they were all just pretending to make him feel alright for a couple of hours. To his surprise, Namjoon wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “We were never mad at you, just a little disappointed. You’re still a part of us, Jungkook.” Hiding his face in his hands, he let the tears fall freely but he didn’t want his hyungs to see how relieved he was that they still loved and cared about him. “Is he crying?” Jin asked astounded, looking at the others. “I think so…” Yoongi couldn’t tell until Jungkook let out a quiet sob. “Oh Jungkookie, don’t cry!” Hoseok got to his feet, hurrying around the table to give him a hug.  “When you cry, we all cry. Don’t do that!” He softly chuckled, letting his brothers hug him and wipe his tears away, thinking that maybe one day he would be okay as long as they were by his side.

                                          *~~EPILOGUE ~~*

It was a cloudy day, the sun was hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds while she was confined to the car, staring at a row of buildings that all looked the same to her. Deliberately she was pulling at her sweater to make it wider and comfier. “Not long, five more minutes or so.” She nodded, fiddling with the strap of her purse - her nerves getting the better of her. “Aren’t you excited?” “I am…” She replied, trailing off; unsure whether she was actually excited or scared. They had never talked about it, really but she was hoping it would all turn out just fine. Nervously she stepped out of the car, leaning against it to keep a close eye on the door, wishing she would have brought Taehyung or Ha-na for moral support but they were busy visiting locations for the party after the wedding reception. The unusual loud beep of her phone made her flinch when it snapped her out of her thoughts. [Jimin - 2:28pm] Don’t tell Jungkookie about his surprise party later! 🤫 And don’t worry y/n, I know he will be very excited when you tell him 😍 She let out a sigh, it was easier said than done - she had been on edge since last night, only tossing and turning all night. What if he wasn’t happy about it? The others had reassured her a million times by now that it was all going to be fine but now she was contemplating waiting a little longer, maybe even a few months, as ridiculous as it sounded in her head. She was checking her watch yet again, thinking that a minute could easily feel like hours when suddenly a door opened and a few people left the most official-looking building of them all. Her eyes found him, surrounded by the guys in his unit as they were walking towards their families after the ceremony, which she hadn’t been allowed to attend for privacy reasons, but that didn’t matter now. The tingling feeling in her legs, made her impatient and she just couldn’t stand still and wait for him to get to her, so she started running towards him. The moment he spotted her, Jungkook’s face lit up, his stomach was swarming with butterflies as he dropped his bag on the ground, ready to catch her in his arms. “Jungkook-ah, is that your girlfriend?” Minhyuk laughed next to him, nudging him with his elbow, watching as she came running, her skirt blowing in the wind. “Yes.” He said proudly, getting ready to wrap his arms around her for the first time in almost three months. “Looks like she’s really excited to see you, you really should’ve taken a shower this morning.” Junyoung teased him, making the other guys chuckle as they all seemingly waited to watch the reunion. “I saw Jungkookie using perfume before the ceremony, he’ll be fine.” Hyunwoo added, patting his shoulder. “Your teasing is definitely something I won’t miss.” Jungkook winked at them before shifting his focus back to her. He had become good friends with some of the guys in his unit after spending day and night with them - maybe it reminded him of the old days with the other members but it comforted him and made his military service not as bad as he had imagined it before enlisting. His heart was hammering against his ribcage when he picked her up right before she could crash into his chest. His arms securely wrapped around her thighs, he slowly spun around in circles with her. She gently cupped his face, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, only deepening it for a few seconds. Carefully he set her down, her fingers digging into the rough material of his uniform jacket. “Hey.” She smiled shyly, looking up at him. “Hey.” Jungkook gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I missed you.” “We missed you too…” “We?” He asked; confusion painted all over his face. He had been told that his members would stay at home and they wouldn’t get together until after his little meeting with the press and fans outside the company building. “Yes, we…”  Taking his hand, he could feel hers shaking when she placed it on her stomach. “We missed you a lot.” Jungkook froze; unsure of whether his ears were playing tricks on him or not. His heart was racing again, but this time it was different - a fuzzy feeling rushed through his body as he slowly started to move his hand over her stomach, feeling the small bump that was well hidden underneath the oversized sweater. “Are you serious?” He swallowed hard, trying to stop his eyes from watering. “I am, I went to the doctor a few weeks ago…” She trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty for not having told him sooner. “I’m sorry, I should’ve… I wanted to tell you in person.” “No, no..it’s okay!” He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was going to be a father just yet. “I-I’m happy you told me like this, it was perfect.” He smiled, cupping her face to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Noona, I love you.” Ever so delicately he kissed her before he sunk to his knees to press his lips to her stomach, an overwhelming feeling of happiness spreading in his chest.

* “Kookie, she woke up again.” Y/n sighed, hearing the faint little cries coming from their bedroom as she put away the last few dishes. “I’ll go check on her.” He put his laptop down on the couch to get up. “No, it’s okay. You’ve had a long day, I’ll do it.” Quickly he crossed the room to stand in front of her. “No, you go sit down and rest. Dasom was asleep when I got home, so this is my chance to spend some time with her.” “Okay fine, but don’t start playing with her again or she will be up for hours.” “I won’t, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and quietly made his way to their bedroom, only turning on the small light on the bedside table. “Hey, little one.” Gently he picked her up, sitting down with her on y/n’s side of the bed, drying her cheeks with his sleeve. “What’s wrong?” He could tell from the way she was crying that she wasn’t hungry, y/n had fed her before putting her down and it was too early for her dream feed. “You don’t need to be changed either.” He concluded after checking her diaper. “Wanna tell appa what’s bothering you?” Dasom made a few unidentifiable noises in between yawns, looking at her father with those big brown doe eyes that she could’ve only gotten from him. “Hmm….yeah…” Jungkook nodded his head. “I understand, I missed you too while I was at work…” He trailed off, reminding himself what he had promised y/n but he was so tempted to tickle her, simply to hear her laugh - he really needed to hear it sometimes, especially after a long tiring day of filming. “I promised mommy I wouldn’t keep you up so, how about I tell you a bedtime story instead?” He cradled her in his arm, making sure she was comfortable. “Where did we leave off last night before you fell asleep? Right, you know there was a time when the princess really didn’t want to be with the prince because of what the people in the town were saying; they were really mean to both of them and the princess wanted to protect the prince so she left him heartbroken and to fend for himself. But the prince loved the princess so much that he did everything in his power to show her his love - it took him months of slaying dragons and all the monsters in the far-away land but eventually, she realized that the universe had always wanted them to be together, they weren’t doomed to be star-crossed lovers…” Dasom’s little snores interrupted his recollection of his relationship with her mother, lovingly his index finger followed the perfect slope of her little nose. Without waking her, he put her back in her crib, making sure she was surrounded by all her favorite plushies, all gifts from her uncles; before he gently kissing her forehead. “I love you and mommy so much, I hope you know that, baby girl.” He whispered, slightly pulling on the string of the little moon above her bed that played the melody of Euphoria. 

[misssophiachase]

For @klaroline-events​​ KC Bingo - School on FF and AO3

When his Porsche convertible blows a tire, private school student Klaus Mikaelson needs it fixed. Enter townie and daughter of the local mechanic, Caroline Forbes.

The Preppy and the Townie

Friday PM, Forbes Garage, Exeter, NH

“Excuse me?” Klaus hadn’t frequented this part of town all that much during his time at Phillips Exeter Academy and given the outdated exterior he wasn’t sure if it was still operational or if he’d stepped back in time.

It was eerily quiet and the small gas station on the outskirts of the town centre seemed unattended. He’d blown the tire on his Porsche not far down the road but had managed to get there just in time.

Given he attended the local boarding school, cars weren’t usually allowed on campus but his father had sent it the other day in lieu of his presence. Mikael Mikaelson never quite understood the concept of fatherhood and considered monetary gifts an alternative way to show affection. 

Klaus also knew there was another reason for his guilt but pushed it to the back of his mind, it was easier that way. 

“Can I help you?” Her voice was gruff, bored and almost resentful of the intrusion. Klaus turned to the source not expecting her to be so indescribable.

And he meant that in a very good way.  

Her denim shorts were frayed at the edges, her white, fitted tank covered in black, grease stains and a red, checked shirt tied around her waist was doing nothing to hide a delectable pair of creamy, toned legs.

“Hey jackass, my eyes are up here,” she barked.

Yes, they were. Blue, expressive and teamed with her golden waves pulled back into a high ponytail, Klaus didn’t think he’d seen anyone so breathtaking in his life.

He didn’t usually stare so obviously at girls, generally it was the other way around, but he couldn’t stop if he tried.

“Is that how you speak to all your customers?”

“Only the ones who look at me like that.”

“And how exactly am I looking at you, love?”

“You know exactly how you’re looking at me,” she countered. “You’re not the first and I know you won’t be the last. Also, I have a name but before you do the completely predictable thing and ask what it is, I’m not going to tell you.”

“That’s quite a speech you seem to have prepared there,” he offered. “Is there any point in me asking about my tire then?”

“If you can’t fix it, then sure, I can do that for you.”

“Are you insinuating that I can’t change a tire?”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” she responded, shrugging her shoulders. Klaus wanted to be offended, he wanted to dislike her immensely and tell her so but there was no hope in hell of that happening.

“Actually, I can change a tire but I don’t have a jack on me,” she snorted by way of response. “You are incredibly judgemental, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Oh, p-uh-lease,” she drawled. “Your type swan around this town like you own it but, newsflash, you don’t. We’ll all be here long after you’ve finished school and left town.”

“I don’t swan, number one,” he replied, “and number two, I don’t think I own your town, even though it is lovely, especially during the Fall.” He held her gaze, and he could see her face soften slightly. But, unfortunately, it didn’t last long. 

”How about we just stick to the tire,” she murmured begrudgingly. “If you’re lucky, I’ll even give you some pointers.”  

Saturday PM, Front Row Pizza

“So, tell me more about this hottie from Philips?” Kat asked, handing a customer their slices on a plate.

Katherine Pierce was her oldest friend and the two had been working at Front Row the past two years. Saturday was their busiest night of the week but thankfully business was starting to slow down. 

“Shhh, would you keep your voice down,” she hissed, wiping the counter and keeping her head down to avoid any embarrassment. “You know how small this place is at the best of times.”

“I didn’t name names, mainly because you haven’t told me yet,” Kat muttered. 

“He’s your typical, preppy jock, nothing groundbreaking around these parts. And I never said he was a hottie, nor would I ever use that term.”

“No, I found that out when I visited the garage this morning and spoke to your DILF.”

“Kat, please don’t talk about my dad like that, it’s extremely disgusting,” she growled. “And when exactly did he decide that Klaus was...”

“Oooh, he has a name. So, tell me more about him and his Porsche?” 

Caroline fought the urge to roll her eyes. As much as she loved her best friend, Kat liked the finer things in life a little too much. Sure, their upbringing was relatively simple in comparison to people like Klaus but Caroline didn’t need money to define who she was and what she wanted out of life. 

“He blew out his tire.”

“Wow, how exciting,” she pouted. “You never tell me anything.”

“He’s English and his surname is Mikaelson, happy?”

“Not in the slightest, next thing I know you’ll tell me his favourite colour,” she pretended to yawn. “Okay, one last question and then I’ll leave you alone for a full five minutes. How would you score him on a scale of one to ten?”  

“It’s blue, well actually it’s more of a french navy if I’m being specific,” a familiar voice interrupted. Caroline closed her eyes wishing she could melt into a puddle on the floor. Of all the times for him to just show up. “As for a score, I think it’s probably best Caroline takes that one.”

She really shouldn’t have told him her name. Why did it have to sound so good rolling off his tongue too? Damn his English accent and those dimples. Why hadn’t she noticed just how disarming they were yesterday?

“If it isn’t the hottie,” Kat smiled, turning to face Caroline giving her an extremely indiscreet thumbs up. “It’s okay, no score necessary, I can work it out just fine on my own.” 

Before Caroline could really die of embarrassment, Katherine had conveniently flounced away to make it even more awkward. 

If she thought he looked good yesterday in his school uniform sans tie with his shirt sleeves rolled up, he was absolutely gorgeous today. Dark jeans, sitting low on his hips and a navy henley that only accentuated his eyes.  

“She’s, uh, friendly.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Caroline agreed. “Are you following me or something?”

“Someone has an incredibly high opinion of themselves,” he said, cocking his left eyebrow. “Maybe I was just hungry, did you ever think of that?”

“Did my dad tell you where I was?” She asked, arms crossed over her chest. “I noticed you two talking yesterday, but here I thought he was just drooling over your speedster.”

“He may have mentioned that Front Row has the best four cheese pizza in town,” he shared. “You know, while he was drooling.”

“Just because you think you can charm my father with your expensive car, doesn’t mean I’m powerless to your charms.”

“My charms?” He smirked, leaning closer. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“If you think that’s flirting then I need to teach you more than how to change a tire,” she scoffed. “Now, would you like to order something? The kitchen is going to be closing soon and I can only take so much of your over inflated ego in a confined space.”

“Your customer service skills really are second to none, love,” he laughed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She wanted to hate him so much but Caroline swore those crimson lips had superpowers of some kind. 

“Sorry, what?” She asked, noticing he’d said something but not quite sure what it was. 

“My over inflated ego and I would like a four cheese pizza to have here,” he joked, his knowing smile telling her she’d been caught out. 

“You are taking it to go,” she demanded, scared of what his lips might do next. 

“I think I’m going to nominate you for employee of the month,” he suggested, taking a seat and making himself at home. “There’s something about your rare skill of being charming but rude at the same time.”

“Kat, can you tell the kitchen there’s an order up,” she called out, not bothering to respond to his remark. “To go.”

“If I agree to leave this fine establishment, how about you do something for me?”

“I changed your tire yesterday and I’m now serving you pizza today,” he attempted to interrupt but Caroline continued. “And before you try to be cute about my impeccable, customer service skills, it’s abundantly clear that, if anything, you owe me, Mikaelson.”

“I was getting to that part,” he promised. “I was hoping you could come to the river tomorrow morning and help me out with my rowing?”

“Excuse me?” Caroline wasn’t expecting that. “I’m curious about what exactly the preppy needs help with?”

“Motivation,” he murmured, his double meaning not lost on her. “Coach says I won’t be up to championships if I can’t improve my times. So, I figured what better way to do that then have you yelling at me from the bow?”  

Katherine let out a not-so-subtle groan from the nearest table. Caroline really shouldn’t have been surprised she was eavesdropping. “Be careful what you wish for, french navy.” 

“I’m willing to take my chances, Katherine,” he smiled in her direction before returning his attention back to Caroline. She really wanted to hate him and his smug, good looking ass but it was becoming more and more difficult. Now, she knew why her best friend and father were so easily convinced. 

“Can I push you in the water if you annoy me?” He took her by surprise and laughed. Caroline had to admit she liked hearing it. 

“I think we’ll need to define what’s annoying from the outset but you’ve got a deal.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

Sunday AM, The Exeter River

“You need to keep your back flat and make sure your core is engaged,” Caroline offered from the front of the boat.” Now that instruction Klaus wasn’t expecting. 

“Trust me, my core is very engaged,” he teased, unable to help himself. 

Klaus was still shocked she’d agreed to come today, he figured it had everything to do with pushing him in the water. Which luckily she hadn’t done...yet. 

“I think we decided that innuendo was annoying.”

“You decided that and who said it’s innuendo? I was merely confirming the fact that my core is, in fact, engaged. And let’s not forget you asked the question.”

“It’s textbook rowing technique and that smirk you gave me was a dead giveaway.”

She looked stunning today, the breeze blowing through her blonde waves that were loose and flowing. Her make-up free face, simple t-shirt and shorts only highlighting her natural beauty. 

“How do you know so much about rowing?” Klaus was surprised, given she didn’t indicate any interest the night before. 

“I might have dated one of you before.”

“One of me?” Klaus was immediately offended by her reply. “I didn’t realise I had a twin.”

“He went to Philips and was on the rowing team too. But instead of a Porsche he had a Mercedes.”

“Wow, you really know how to hurt a guy,” he shot back, unable to disguise his disappointment. “Is this why you’ve been so hostile?” He stopped rowing needing to know the answer.

“I haven’t been…” 

“Yes, you have,” he interrupted. “I don’t know what this guy did to you but…”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Perhaps not but I’d hate for you to unfairly judge me based on some idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.”

“I’m a townie, yes my house is only a few kilometres away, but we lived in totally different worlds,” she murmured, her gaze downcast. “He had a trust fund bigger than I could ever imagine and I work two jobs just so I can afford college if I don’t get a scholarship. I stupidly thought that someone like him actually liked me.”

“Well, he’s an idiot and you’re not stupid.” His hand was on hers before he had time to think. “I get you’ve had a bad experience but I’m not who you think I am.” She faltered, her eyes finding his again. “Ask me anything.”

“Can I push you in the water?”

“Cute.”

“On Friday, you didn’t seem to care too much about your new car, why is that? At first I assumed it was the fact you had another ten of them waiting at home in your garage.”

“Only two,” he admitted. “But I’m not really that enthused about them either.”

“What happened?”

“My mother died last year, my siblings are scattered around the country at different colleges and schools and my father sent the car in lieu of his presence at Philip’s family weekend. We’ve never been that close but I guess I thought…”

“He’d want to see you.”

“It’s ridiculous I know.”

“It’s not,” she smiled, placing her other hand over his. “You know what is silly though? How lazy you’re being, now get moving before I push you into the water, Mikaelson.”

Turns out they both ended up in the water that day but neither minded. Klaus won the rowing championship with plenty of core engagement instruction from Caroline. He also sent back the Porsche to his father because he didn’t need it anymore, he had everything he needed right there.