#i really wish i could render stuff out better i struggle so much maybe i will come back and finish this more lololol

[thecookieshop]

There on his shoulder my best friend is bit seven times He runs washing his face in his hands Oh how I meant to tease him Oh how I meant no harm Touching his back with my hand I kiss him I see the wasp on the length of my arm

[yaminerua]

Struggled to get this one out but I'm glad I pushed on with it to get it done tonight instead of having to leave it to tomorrow;;

As always, prompts are by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Day 11's prompt was Touch and I could not shake that little hand on the knee from Terrorform out of my mind for this one. And apparently Rimmer can't either.

Words: 2740

****

“It was all baloney wasn’t it?”

“What was?”

“All that hugging stuff back there. It was just a way of escaping, wasn’t it? I mean you didn't really feel that deep down I'm an OK sort of bloke; that I'm not such a bad old stick once you get to know me.  You didn't really mean any of that, did you?”

The others turned, briefly, to look at each other, a singular connected thought passing silently between them before they turned back and responded together, in cold, earth-shattering honesty: 

“No.”

Rimmer didn’t know what he’d expected. He didn’t know why or even how he could have ever expected anything else. Of course they hadn’t meant it. Why would they? Right before they’d all come waltzing back through the door suddenly singing his praises they had just been dragging him through the muck, reminding him in excruciating detail of all the little reasons he had good cause to hate himself – why they all surely hated him.

It was no surprise then that after all that sweet talk, all that nonsense about how great he was and how they actually liked him really, it had just been a means to an end, a little white lie to get them off that infernal psi-moon. He knew better than to believe any of it, to let himself fall for it for even a moment.

So why did it bother him so much?

Lying on his back on the lower bunk in the still quiet of the otherwise empty bunkroom, accompanied only by the endless background hum of the ship all around him, Rimmer heaved a heavy, tortured sigh.

He had been safely back on Red Dwarf for hours now, the terrifying ordeal of being tormented by a physical manifestation of his own mind far behind him and yet as he lay there quietly, trying fruitlessly to will his body into a state of blissful unconsciousness, he was being rudely, miserably reminded that he could never truly escape from any of it. His mind would follow him wherever he went.

He hadn’t said much of anything to anyone in the aftermath of breaking free from the planetoid’s gravity. Even though he had fully expected and even pre-emptively anticipated their answer, somehow hearing it delivered so matter-of-factly, as though it were blindingly obvious and there could be no other alternative answer, had rendered him utterly incapable of speech. He hadn’t even been able to summon the energy to fire back a retort. Instead he had dropped rather despondently into his seat in the cockpit and spent the rest of the journey back to Red Dwarf staring miserably into the middle distance, absently massaging his right knee and wishing fervently that he just hadn’t asked.

When they’d finally reached Red Dwarf he had taken off like a shot, stealing away to some quiet, deserted part of the ship far away from the others whereupon he had largely busied himself with pacing the empty corridors briskly trying to find anything that would work well as a distraction.

After a while of wandering aimlessly he had ultimately decided that in all honesty he was quite done being conscious for the time being and had wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bunk and fall asleep and put the whole mess behind him but that was easier said than done when you shared a bunk room with someone who had effectively just pulled the rug out from beneath your feet, who had lied brazenly to your face about giving a single solitary smeg about you, made you think foolishly for half a second that maybe for once there was someone on your side, in your corner, who cared about you, and then crushed that tiny burgeoning seed of hope underfoot before it could even have had so much as a tiny chance at taking root.

Maybe they should have just left him behind. He was at the mercy of his own inner demons even at the best of times so what difference did it really make if they had become something physically real and threatening?

He shook that thought vehemently out of his head. He was just being irrational now. Of course this was still better than that alternative. At least he was used to this, the constant waves of negativity and self-loathing, the swells of doubt and anxiety, the hopelessness coupled with a doomed determination to try to keep pushing on trying for a life that seemed to be against what the universe itself had in mind. He could continue to live with that, had already lived the entirety of his life with it up to this point. At least like this he was safe in the familiarity of it all.

One thing, however, was very, very new.

Hovering an aggravated hand over his right leg again for what felt like the billionth time that night, he lowered it down and rubbed vigorously, desperately, at a spot just above his knee, digging the nails of his fingers into the hologramatic fabric of his trousers, willing the memory of warmth and weight against it to fade, but as with every other attempt he’d made at it thus far, it made no difference whatsoever. No matter how frantically he scrubbed and clawed away at it, the ghosts of one single little moment of physical contact seemed to have burned themselves into the every particle of his being, indelible and utterly inescapable.

It had been such a bizarre experience, being in possession of a physical body again, solid and warm and human, after so long stuck as a hologram with all the limitations that usually entailed. It had filled him with such a deep sense of longing for something he had almost forgotten he’d missed. It had been so long since he had been able to indulge in even just the simple sensation of being able to press his hands against an object and have his digits connect with it instead of gliding eerily through like some sort of technological ghost.

Over the course of that whole gruelling experience he had found himself feeling acutely, excruciatingly aware of every last sensation down to the finest details, the chill of the air against his exposed skin, the tickle of warm oil trickling down his bare chest, the thrumming, pulsing rush of blood flowing through his veins and the relentless thudding of a heartbeat – his heartbeat – hammering away frantically behind his ribcage.

It had been almost too much after all this time, too real in a way that even his experiences on the holoship The Enlightenment hadn’t managed to be. There was a stark difference, he now knew, between two holograms composed of soft-light interacting and two real, solid, flesh and blood human beings doing the same and the latter was proving to be so much harder to shake from his brain.

Lister’s hand had been so warm…

Clenching his eyes shut, he shook his head furiously and let out an anguished groan, enraged at himself once again for failing to keep the memory from resurfacing. Why was he fixating on it so much? It had all been a smegging act, a false, empty gesture intended to help bolster a lie. Lister hadn’t meant anything with it. And yet…

“I’m just tryin’ to say that whatever happens here, I want you to know, I really care about you.”

Rimmer’s hand stilled where it was, resting tentatively over the place Lister had placed his, the memory blooming, unbidden, behind his closed eyelids again. If he had still had an actual heart in his artificially projected chest it would be racing.

He’d wanted him to mean it then, hadn’t he? In spite of everything else he knew that warned him not to, everything that told him this was nonsense and that he knew better, he’d still wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that at least from Lister maybe there was a chance for some small shred of truth to exist there.

Kryten and the Cat he hadn’t believed for a minute. Rimmer knew very well, after all, what they thought of him and largely felt the same about them in return but Lister was a little bit different. He couldn’t be quite as sure about him.

Even now as the scene played out in vivid detail in his mind he could picture the earnest look on Lister’s face, the warmth of his eyes and the unwavering steadiness of his stare. He could recall the way he’d held his gaze evenly as he’d lifted his hand and moved it carefully, deliberately, to settle it down upon Rimmer’s leg and leave it there, hot and heavy and real.

The mere memory alone sent an involuntary shudder rippling its way all the way down Rimmer’s hologramatic form, making him feel a little light-headed and dazed and more than just a little winded.

It made him feel peculiar, antsy in a strangely nervous way, his fingers twitching reflexively where they lay, throat suddenly tight and tense just as it had been then.

He hadn’t known what to do or how to respond. In that moment his whole body had felt as though it were on fire, as though something not entirely unlike a jolt of electricity had sparked through him like lightning from the point of contact, setting every nerve in his body ablaze.

His heart had been beating so hard it could have burst.

Rimmer swallowed thickly and tried not to think about it, tried to pretend the persistent tingling sensation over his thigh was simply that of his own hand resting there, that it wasn’t anything else. He tried to pretend that the fact it wasn’t working didn’t mean anything.

It was unfair. Why was this what his mind had decided to latch onto and remember? Why was that the physical memory his body chosen to retain? Couldn’t it at least have chosen to fixate on the handmaidens and their ministrations instead? Hell, even Kryten’s pathetically insincere attempt to mimic Lister would have been preferable to this, paradoxical as it sounds. Why did it have to be Lister and his stupid warm, soft, tenderly placed hand making him feel inexplicably confusing things?

Even now, hours after the fact, the mere thought of it still filled him with an insatiable, anxious energy to do… something. He didn’t even know what that something was but he wanted to do a lot of it, whatever it was. God, what was happening to him?

He opened his eyes and stared helplessly up at the empty bunk above him. He felt feverish, as though something was gumming up his lightbee and making him malfunction. He wondered, distantly, whether the psychological effects of having his mind projected out of him onto the planet’s surface had warped something somehow, given him the equivalent of some sort of hologramatic shock response. Maybe that explained some of the lingering unease, the weird fluttery nervousness that kept washing over him in waves, the aching tension in his chest as though something heavy was weighing down on it, attempting to crush it. He hoped if that was the case that it would pass soon. He wasn’t really sure what he would do if it didn’t.

The door to the bunk room slid suddenly open with a hiss and Rimmer hurriedly snapped his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep, tried to even out the pace of his breathing and relax his face enough to be convincing, inwardly cursing all the while that he hadn’t managed to actually drift off in time before Lister finally decided to turn in for the night himself.

He stayed stock still while he listened to the sounds of Lister moving around, the tell-tale rustle of leather as he slipped off his jacket and let it drop to the floor with a heavy thwump. The urge to snap at him to pick it up and deal with it properly was so powerful he almost had to bite his own tongue to keep from breaking the illusion of unconsciousness. Stupid Lister and his stupid sloppy habits and his stupid leather jacket and gloves and his stupid warm ha—

Smeg. Not again.

He clicked his tongue in frustration and then stiffened immediately in regret when he heard Lister pause, probably to look over at him, trying to gauge if he was awake or not. He absolutely did not want to have to talk to him right now, didn’t want to have to even look at him. The only words he’d said at all in the last several hours had been to brusquely and pointedly inform him and the others that he was going to bed early and did not wish to be disturbed. He didn’t want to change that now.

He held his breath as he waited for Lister to start moving again, not daring to risk cracking open an eye to take a peek.

Heavy footsteps approached and then stopped just shy of the ladder to the upper bunk and Rimmer wished to God that he had had some sort of duvet cover to shield him from view, feeling altogether far too exposed lying as he was without one. He wondered how obvious he looked, how tense and unnaturally rigid he appeared trying in vain to feign the illusion of sleep with Lister’s gaze surely scrutinising his every breath. He probably wasn’t fooling him for a minute.

“Rimmer?” Lister’s voice sounded out, tentative, wary. “You awake?”

He sounded like he wanted to talk, like he had something he wanted to say. Rimmer wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, whatever it was. He pretended he hadn’t heard him, schooled his expression into remaining as neutral and blank as possible and waited for him to give up.

Whether he’d believed Rimmer was really asleep or had simply got the message that he was in no mood for conversation, Lister breathed a heavy, defeated sigh and made to climb up the ladder and if Rimmer hadn’t known better, hadn’t been well aware of the fact that Lister felt not a shred of remorse for lifting him up and then shooting him down earlier on, he would have almost thought he’d sounded a little apologetic, a little guilty.

Once he had safely clambered his way up and out of sight, Rimmer waited a good few moments more for Lister to get himself settled, listening closely until he heard his breathing even out and the first quiet little snores begin emanating from him before he finally opened his eyes and glowered furiously up at the underside of the bunk with such intensity his glare alone could have bored holes in the solid metal.

He envied how easily Lister could just drift off to sleep, as if it was as simple as flicking off a switch. That was all fine and well when you didn’t have a loud and obnoxious brain that wouldn’t shut itself up long enough to let you rest, let alone an infuriating leg that still wouldn’t let go of the sensation of one of the last somewhat meaningful physical touches it had ever felt and would ever feel again.

Unconsciously, the thumb of his hand stroked little circles across that same maddening little spot, tracing the edges of Lister’s invisible palm print, mapping it out in his mind, unwittingly committing it to more and more to memory as though he was carving its shape deep into his very skin.

He was going to have to get used to this, he realised begrudgingly, beginning to move at last into some reluctant form of acceptance. One way or another he would simply have to learn to adjust to it and live with it moving forwards, and hope that like most of his other distant memories of human touch it too would eventually fade on its own with time.

Maybe it was the emotional exhaustion of the day’s events finally catching up with him after everything, maybe it was something else, maybe he was just lonely and tired of the prospect of never touching – never being touched – again but as he let his tired eyes slide closed and felt his breathing begin to gradually match Lister’s, a distant, traitorous, yearning little part of him questioned quietly whether forgetting the warmth of Lister’s touch was actually something he wanted to forget at all.

His hand had been so warm…

[yslkook]

TiO (8)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook is a man of mystery and you take him on a date.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, a shitty relationship, unprotected sex (pls use protection, these two are being foolish) , some choking, grinding, making out, oral

word count: ~6.3k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. a big thank you to @cutechim for creating the texts for me lmao<33

***

Jungkook remains tight-lipped about what it was he had done over the weekend, when he had gone with Jin and Mina to a tattoo convention a few hours away. They had ended up staying the night there, and while Jungkook wanted to ask you to come with him, he wondered if it was too soon to ask. After all, you were both still enjoying each other’s company at your own sweet pace.

Eventually his little secret gets put on the back burner for the rest of the week. You were supposed to get bubble tea with him on Tuesday, but unfortunately a last minute work issue with your client and your application came up. You’d ended up working late, your eyes screaming in fatigue and went straight to bed that evening. He had understood, of course he did.

On Thursday, he was supposed to grab lunch with you at a cafe that he thought you might like, but this time it was him who had a conflict. His older sister had showed up to the tattoo parlor without any prior notice. She does this every so often, when things aren’t going well with her on again, off again shitty “boyfriend”.

Jungkook had sighed, cancelling on lunch with you to spend time with Jooyeon and comfort her with fried chicken and ice cream. You had sent an understanding thumbs up and a promise to call him later and end up having lunch with your work wife, Kira instead.

Kira who doesn’t fail to point out the glow in your cheeks and your general aura, even though it’s been nearly a week and a half since you saw Jungkook last. You roll your eyes and ignore the flames in your cheeks (and her laughter), and change the subject to your work projects. She tells you about some of the coding issues and compliance issues she’s been having with her software, and you tell her about the hours you’ve been pouring into your application for your client.

It doesn’t bother you that Jungkook hadn’t asked if you wanted to meet his sister. After all, he’d told you bits and pieces about her and her relationship. And in the last few weeks, your relationship has blossomed so beautifully. There was no reason to rush, you think. You’ll meet her hopefully under better circumstances for her.

Jungkook spends most of the evening with Jooyeon, letting her cry herself to sleep in his bed. His sister hardly ever cries like this, with sobs full of pain and hurt because of another man. But it’s been happening too much lately, too many fights and too much of Joo losing herself. It makes Jungkook see red more often than not. He knows what you’d say- that she needs him more than anything else and to not be so impulsive.

He makes sure Joo eats a warm meal before she falls asleep and he shoots you a text:

Jungkook: baby

You: hi

You: everything ok?

Jungkook: no, joo’s bf is a fkin asshole

Jungkook: she’s sleeping

Jungkook: miss u

You: im sorry baby :( can i call you?

He jumps at the chance, the sound of your voice and sight of your pretty face on video call instantly calming him. Jungkook is sure to wear a beanie to hide his surprise for you (but you don’t question it. After all, you’ve seen him in beanies plenty of times before and it’s dim in the apartment.) He moves to the couch, asking softly for you to tell him about your day. You recount every single detail from memory, shifting under your covers to tell him about how you had nearly stumbled down the stairs in front of your manager’s manager because you had missed a step.

It pulls a soft laugh from him.

“Jungkook,” You say quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Jungkook sighs, “She’s just… Byung-woo and her have had this on and off thing for years now. He won’t commit to her and she just refuses to see him for what he is. Like, when it’s good, it’s really good. But when it’s bad, it’s awful. I wish she’d fucking see it for herself. I don’t know what to do anymore, baby.”

“Oh, baby,” You murmur, wishing you could hug him, “All you can do is be there for her but be honest with her. She’ll come around soon, hopefully. It’s hard to see past a shitty person sometimes, when all you want is for them to love you.”

“I hope so, too,” Jungkook says, “She’d love you, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t get a big head,” Jungkook chuckles, “Maybe you can meet her someday. Under better circumstances, I mean.”

“Really? You want me to meet your older sister?” You ask softly, feeling a little flustered, “That’s serious.”

“I told you, baby,” Jungkook soothes, “I’m serious about you.”

“Yeah. Seriously crazy about me,” You giggle to yourself. You know if Jungkook was with you, he’d flick your forehead.

“It’s true,” He murmurs, “Maybe I can see you this weekend?”

“Yeah, you still have to show me what you did over the weekend! Take care of Jooyeon first,” You reply, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll drop stuff off, just tell me.”

“I will,” Jungkook promises, “Sleep well, I miss you.”

“Sleep well. I miss you.”

***

Jooyeon ends up leaving on Saturday morning after a lecture from Jungkook and with determined resolve in her eyes. You jump at the chance to take him out tonight, knowing how stressed he’s been the last few days.

You: be ready at 6:30 tn, im taking u out. and dress slutty

Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret your text when he reads it. He considers asking Mina and Mei what this means, but ultimately leaves it alone. Replying to your message with a quick thumbs up, he busies himself with getting ready to see you (and surprising you, finally after a full week of wanting to show you what he had done.)

Once you parallel park your car (which takes far too long than you’d like to admit), you grab the small bouquet of purple roses that you had gotten for Jungkook and text him saying that you’ll be up in a few minutes.

Taehyung had caught you struggling to parallel park, and had told Jungkook with a snicker. Which earned him a punch to the arm.

There wasn’t a particular reason that you had chosen to get purple roses for him, other than the fact that they reminded you of him. You hope he likes them.

Jungkook hears a soft knock at the door, and can already envision you behind it. He hopes you like his surprise, the one he’s been teasing you for a week about. You had given no hints of what you would be wearing- you had only sent him one selfie that didn’t give much of a hint into your outfit. He has no doubt that you’ll look gorgeous, but still.

Maybe Jungkook’s nerves shouldn’t be this intense, but he can’t help it. He swings the front door open, only to be greeted by you swaying on your feet with your hands held behind your back. His heart throbs when you pull your hands apart and present him with a beautiful bouquet of purple roses.

How ironic.

“Hello,” You say with a small smile, suddenly feeling a little shy and gasping when your eyes land on his hair, “Wow. You weren’t kidding…”

His hair is tied back into a ponytail, but it’s unmistakably elegant and so violet. Two neat pieces of his newly dyed hair fall into his face effortlessly, but then your gaze reaches the piercing on his left eyebrow. Your lips remain parted in surprise and without thinking, you reach up to touch his hair. It’s still soft, as it always is.

“Come in, baby,” Jungkook says, taking the roses from you, “You must really like me, huh? Got me flowers and everything?”

“Shut up,” You mutter, cheeks heating up, “Don’t get a big head.”

Jungkook only grins wolfishly at you and winks at you, eyes unashamedly glued to your ass. You roll your eyes, and swat his shoulder as you watch him put the rose in a vase and place it in the center of the dining table.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been in his shared apartment (that he lives with Taehyung and Jimin in) but you somehow feel shy in his presence again, as if it was the first time. The first time you had been here with him had been the first time you had spent the night at his apartment several weeks ago, after a night out with your friends.

You let your gaze wander, curious eyes settling on the subtle matching of the furniture and the cleanliness of the apartment. There’s not a stray speck of dust in sight, but maybe you’re distracting yourself from addressing the pretty purple of his hair. Your mouth is dry, and you’re probably drooling a little. You wonder if Jungkook prepared for this, the same way you did (in that you had washed your car, cleaned every inch of it and gotten a new car freshener).

A faint scent of fresh laundry and lavender sits in the spaces of his home. It calms you and gives you the boost to turn your eyes to him.

“Thanks for the roses, baby,” Jungkook says, giving you a smile and starry eyes. He pulls you into his arms, your back against the counter. “Surprise. Do you like it?”

“Uh,” You mumble, brain deciding to short-circuit with the way he looks at you. His smile turns into a smirk, deciding to further render you speechless by pressing himself closer to you and cradling your neck. He’s careful not to touch your face. He doesn’t want to mess your makeup up terribly, at least not yet.

“I know you like my hair. Your face says it all, baby,” Jungkook continues and ducks his head for a quick kiss, “You’re pretty.” He does quite like this dress, light blue and dotted in small flowers with thin straps. His eyes are instantly drawn to the drawstring at the center of your chest and he quells the urge to pull at it.

Jungkook’s mouth waters when he sees the side split of the dress but you want more from him immediately, but he pulls away to your chagrin. Even with the simple kiss, the burgundy color of your lipstick stains his plump bottom lip.

You shiver. It appears that he tried to take your words via text to heart- to dress slutty. He’s wearing a loose animal print button up, with the top three buttons undone. It gives you a delectable view of his pecs, his collarbones and a hint of the tattoo on his right side. As if you weren’t already weak in the knees for him as it was, he wears a black coat and tight, leather pants.

Jungkook pulls it off, like he pulls everything off and the purple hair blends seamlessly with his look. Tonight, he’d opted for two silver hoops in each ear and a thin silver necklace to match.

Your knees are weak, they’ve been weak since you had seen him in this offensive outfit and his hair, his new piercing that was clearly an attack on your entire existence.

The purple hair. The piercing. He’ll be the death of you tonight, you know it. Your legs are wobbly, panties already probably a little wet just from seeing him and from a few of his kisses. But you can’t help it. Without thinking, you press your lips to his, drawing your tongue into his mouth eagerly. You are so hungry, so eager to devour him and drink up anything that he offers you. Jungkook tugs you closer to him lightly by your waist but-

“Seriously? Right in front of my dinner?” Comes an amused voice from behind Jungkook and you nearly screech at the familiar sound of Jimin’s voice.

“I- I didn’t-You-” You stammer, feeling your face heat up to a degree that it’s definitely never heated up to before. You hide behind Jungkook to fix your surely wrecked lipstick. You’re certain his own lips are probably comically smudged with your lipstick as well. “Sorry Jimin, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, we’ll leave-”

Jungkook only rolls his eyes at Jimin’s wide smirk and knowing eyes. He hears you scolding Jungkook for not telling him that anyone was home, to which he promptly responds “well, you didn’t ask!”

Despite the very natural and easy flow of conversation between you and Jungkook in your car, you still feel overheated and jumpy, your fingers incessantly tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not Jungkook, it’s you and your own nerves. It’s not the first time you’ve gone out to dinner with him and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve had him in your car. If Jungkook notices, he says nothing.

“Where are we going, baby?” Jungkook asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the road despite being at a red light.

“Umm, that place you mentioned the other day. The one we talked about trying together,” You say softly. Jungkook can only wonder why you’re a little quiet, but he thinks he knows. You slip into your head so easily and he doesn’t mind gently tugging you out of your thought cloud and into reality with him.

“Can you help me park,” You mumble sheepishly, “I get nervous parking in such tight spaces.”

“Yeah, pull over here before it’s impossible to,” Jungkook murmurs. You nod and do so, hopping out of the driver’s seat to switch places with him. But before you can get in the passenger’s seat, Jungkook grips your wrist loosely. You look at him curiously, with wide eyes and he drops a kiss to your lips, swallowing your surprise.

“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, “So fucking pretty, baby. I love this dress on you.” You preen at his praise, leaning forward for another kiss with a shy smile. He subtly squeezes your left tit before letting his hand travel downward.

“You look really good, Jungkook,” You murmur before he kisses you, “I-I really, really like it. A lot.”

He gently caresses your thigh from under your dress, the heat of his hand shooting straight up your core. Jungkook slips his tongue into your mouth quickly, coaxing your endearing nervousness away. As if you both aren’t pulled over to the side of the street where cars are passing you by (and surely wondering why you both were making out like this in public).

“Are we gonna be those people who have a roadside quickie,” You laugh, gently pushing his shoulder when you pull away.

“Roadside quickie? Get your mind out of the gutter,” Jungkook says but his lips twist into a wicked smirk, “But hey, if you wanna give me road head, I’m not going to complain about it-”

“Ha, you would be so lucky,” You scoff, feeling your nerves beginning to ease out of you, “C’mon, our reservation is soon. And then we can talk about road head.”

Dinner goes perfectly and after a glass of wine you feel those inexplicable nerves wash away. What did you have to be nervous for anyway? It was Jungkook- Jungkook who you’ve known for years. Your friend before any of this. He asks you about work, how your application is going-

“Your client sounds pretty demanding,” Jungkook muses, “You keeping up with it okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not even an application engineer so I’m just learning as I go. My true roots are data and data science but I get to see all of it. Which is cool. But also time consuming, like the other evening, I had to read up on the compliance regulations. But my favorite thing is creating modeling and programs for this app, it’s really cool because it’s healthcare specific. So I’m learning about that sector as well, it’s mostly python but we’ve been doing testing with different healthcare providers in the area and they’re all responding really well to it-” You’re rambling, you know it, but your passion for your career knows no bounds and Jungkook makes no move to stop you. He only smiles at you, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, gesturing for you to continue.

It’s funny. Not even a few months ago, you would have cut yourself off from your own rambling. In an attempt to convince yourself that the other person didn’t need to hear about it. Maybe that was Sora’s subconscious influence on you. Today, you don’t think twice about it, glowing and shimmering under the dim, blue lights of the restaurant as you tell Jungkook more about your job.

He makes your heart race and he’s sitting right in front of you. Your chin is in your hands as you listen to the pretty words slipping out of his lips. He’s so dreamy, and you struggle to not let your gaze stray from his eyes and linger on his exposed tattoos and chest. You don’t even know where to look, deciding to settle on the way his newly purple locks fall to his forehead just perfectly.

“What do you wanna eat for dessert?” You murmur, looking at the menu and cautiously allowing your foot to brush against his.

In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming-

“You,” Jungkook says easily, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“Corny,” You roll your eyes, but nudge his foot again. You end up deciding on sharing a slice of decadent, chocolate mousse cake. Which Jungkook ends up finishing off when you satisfy your sweet tooth after a few big bites.

He leans over without a second thought, thumbing away stray cream from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb and he looks at you with wide eyes before grinning roguishly.

“Wanna get outta here, baby?”

“Should I take you home, Jungkook?” You ask, finding the courage somewhere in the remnants of the glass of wine currently evaporating from your system to take his hand in your lap once you’re both settled in your car.

“Do you want to take me home?” Jungkook asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“I have some wine I think you’d like at my place. I just got it,” You say a little breathlessly, “And I have to inspect something, I might need your help.” Jungkook laughs, a little derisively and you pout.

“You don’t have to bribe me with wine, baby. You know I would’ve been down regardless,” Jungkook says, squeezing your hand, “What do you need to inspect? Do you have a leak or something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a leak alright,” You say under your breath, thinking about the growing wetness in your panties, “My man just showed up here with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing, looking like a damn model after one whole week. I have to inspect him.”

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I would love to be your lab rat. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen the inside of your bedroom before-”

“Who said you’d get that far?”

“I already did, baby. Did you forget?” Jungkook’s smirk widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. He gently cups your face, thumb on your chin and hovers just over your lips. You think he’s about to kiss you, so you close your eyes in anticipation of his lips on yours.

But it never comes. Instead, his breath fans over your cheeks and he lets out a low laugh. “I sure didn’t forget, and I know you didn’t either.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand away, ignoring (but letting out a smile) when he chuckles. You decide to hold his hand for as much of the drive back home you can.

Jungkook’s hands are on your hips even as you’re fumbling with the keys to your front door. He’s a distraction, his warm heat plastered against your back and the simple act of opening your damn door feels like too much of a chore. When Jungkook’s lips glaze over the back of your neck, his fingers roaming your waist, it’s difficult for you to focus.

So Jungkook scoffs and turns the key for you. “Can’t open the door, baby?” Jungkook taunts and you level him with a glare.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself in front of my door!”

“You like it,” Jungkook says, shutting the door behind him and hugging you as you try to walk away from him to wash up. You escape his grip with a giggle and lock yourself in your bathroom, while Jungkook waits with a disgruntled pout.

When you come out, you head into the kitchen to pour out two glasses of wine and bring some snacks out. You’re not particularly hungry, though you wouldn’t mind eating and you’re sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind either.

Your train of thought is of course interrupted by the man himself and he wraps his arms around you from behind, pushing you into the counter. One might say that Jungkook is being clingy, but you know this is how he shows his affections. Through physical touch more than anything else. And you quite like it, you like the reassurance of his body close to yours. It’s what you’ve always wanted and never known that you needed.

“Missed you,” He breathes into your hair. Even if he’s been with you for the last few hours… You understand him. It feels like you’re both making up for lost time. For time that you could’ve spent together, rather than apart.

“Me too,” You murmur, “Can you take this to the couch, honey? I’ll bring the glasses and the wine.”

Jungkook hums and kisses your temple, squeezing your ass before heeding your soft demand. You sit next to him, thighs touching, and pour out a glass for both of you to enjoy. You lean against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his bicep and turn the television on. But neither of you are really paying attention.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs, “I had a good time tonight, baby.”

“Don’t I know it,” You say smugly, “It’s not everyday a pretty girl takes you out for din-” He cuts your words off by pulling you into his lap, somehow not spilling even a single drop of wine in the movement. You would’ve killed him if even a hint of a wine stain appeared on your velvet couch.

You press your hand into his shoulder, the hint of his tattoo and the glint of his piercing catching your eye. You swirl your glass of wine with your other hand. “What a precarious position to be in,” You say dryly, even grinding your hips into his playfully. He gives you a look, and stills your movements with one hand on your waist. Jungkook sets his glass on the coffee table behind you and cradles your neck, pulling you down for a sharp kiss. It’s almost desperate and needy, nothing like his kisses from before.

You slip your tongue into his honeyed mouth, tasting seeds of his desperation with your tongue. But then, you remember your wine glass and pull away from his lips with a lewd smack to reach behind you and place it on the coffee table as well.

“So pretty,” Jungkook moans, pushing the straps of your dress to the side and dotting your shoulders in wine-stained kisses, “Pretty girl, my pretty baby-”

You tilt his cheek towards you for a kiss, whining into his mouth at his praise. It shoots down your spine in a delicious hum and his hands roaming the expanse of your back makes you feel warm and powerful.

The way your hips move in time with his, the way you fit into the crevices of his thighs and his chest- he just wants to give you everything. He wants to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Jungkook will give you everything, if you let him.

“And what about you?” You rasp with swollen lips and wild eyes when you finally pull away. You press your fingers into the exposed, inky part of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned for your eyes. “You look so fucking good all the time, but-but I told you to dress slutty and you did this for me, huh? You did this for me, bunny?”

Jungkook’s cock jumps in his tight pants and his throat goes dry. Your eyes are devious, filled with mischief and sin and he gives himself to you fully and wholly.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods eagerly, “Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you, baby.”

“A-and your hair,” You mumble, feeling a little lovesick, “I love it, I love it, I love it-I just wanna- wanna make you feel good. Can I do that, bunny? Make you feel good?”

Jungkook nods with wide, doe eyes, wondering how the tables were turned so quickly.

“Take me to my bedroom,” You demand softly. The glasses of wine and snacks on the tray are left forgotten as Jungkook easily scoops you up in his arms. Even with your lips soft and slow against his neck, he somehow makes it to your bed.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve had Jungkook in your bed (or that you’ve been in his bed). It’s not the first time you’ve peeled his shirt off meticulously and licked your way down his chest, to unbutton his tight pants. It’s not the first time he’s seen you on your knees on your bed (to alleviate the strain on your knees if you were on the floor).

By now, the shock of your impatience has worn off. Jungkook frequently reminds you to slow down, that you both have nowhere to be except with each other.

It looks like his pants are glued to his legs, and while you can appreciate the visual, you want to appreciate the real thing. You groan in frustration and Jungkook does the work for you, pushing the offending fabric away and breathing a sigh of relief. You crawl closer to him, nails featherlight against his taut thighs.

He’s golden, his body taut and spilling with swirls of color in the divots of his muscles. Your mouth waters.

But Jungkook moves your hands away when you start inching closer, wanting to palm his cock. He joins you on the bed, pushing your back to the bed and hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips. His hands are tight and warm and welcome on your hips, a flare of desire shooting down your spine and straight to your pussy. You buck your hips up towards him with a pout but he only squeezes.

“What did I tell you,” Jungkook murmurs, swatting your thigh lightly.

“You’ll have to remind me,” You breathe.

“Told you to slow down, baby,” Jungkook says, letting his fingers trail up your thighs and slip under your panties. His hand is warm in contrast to the rings on his fingers. They do little to cool your skin, though. “Impatient girl.”

“You say that like a bad thing-”

“And you talk so fucking much,” Jungkook drawls, hovering over you and dropping his weight on top of you, nudging your cheek to kiss you. You reach upwards to thread your hands through his hair but he’s quick, so much quicker than you. Jungkook pins your wrists with just one hand, and the mere action, the mere display of strength has you sighing and your pussy fluttering.

“Lift your hips,” Jungkook says thickly, and you do so immediately. It’s easy for him to pull your black lace panties off to the side. But before he does so he gives you a small smile of approval, knowing that you wore them specifically for him to see.

“I really do love this dress, baby,” He says, “Makes your tits and your ass look amazing.”

“Take it off, then. And see the goods up close,” You say, wiggling against his grip.

“I will,” Jungkook says lazily, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” Without a single warning, he lifts you up easily into his lap. Your bare pussy brushes against his bare cock deliciously, your hips moving of their own accord. He stills you again, and carefully unzips your dress and pulls it off of you. His fingers on you are soft but firm, leaving your head spinning and hazy.

You haven’t even had his cock yet, and you’re about ready to combust. Jungkook pushes you on the bed, your tits bouncing with the force of your back hitting the mattress and hovers over you. You pull at his hair a little impatiently and he groans, the sound reverberating across the walls only to ring in your head. You want to hear it again, and again and again.

“Jungkook,” You whine, “Please, bunny, do something. Look at me, look at my pussy, come clean me up-”

“So needy,” Jungkook murmurs and ignores you in favor of kissing your tits, rubbing your nipples with his fingers, “‘M needy for you too, baby.”

“You’re so hard, so big,” You babble, “Please, want your cock, baby.”

Impatient. Jungkook kisses your chest, your belly, your hips and makes you cum on his tongue twice (while you tear up and cry a little bit, gripping his purple locks fiercely and holding onto his shoulder) before letting you stroke his cock. You’re about to push him on his back to blow him with determined eyes, but he stops you.

It appears he’s impatient too, and he wants to see you cream his cock before cumming all over your tits (which has become his favorite place to).

“Jungkook,” You breathe sharply, “There, baby, right there-” You cut yourself off with a groan, stilling your hips and pushing his face into your chest. Jungkook’s groans are muffled against your tits, but you feel the wetness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue over your nipples.

“Shit,” You mumble, “Feels so good-”

“So pretty, baby,” Jungkook coos, pulling away from your tits to look up at you with lust in his eyes, “I’m yours, all yours-”

You groan, bouncing on his cock even harder as a flare of possessiveness flashes across your belly. “Move back,” You say softly, “Lay down. I’m gonna ride you so good, baby.”

Jungkook barely has a chance to catch his breath before your nails are on his chest, trying to hold yourself steady as you push yourself down onto his cock, pulling a deep moan of your name from his lips. His hands are tight on your hips, watching with wide eyes- he doesn’t know where to look, what to do.

He squeezes when one of your hands drifts over his and rests on top of his hand.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Jungkook mumbles, “Whatever you want baby, I’m yours-”

“You talk so much,” You say hoarsely, with a wicked smile, “It’s cute.” Your free hand floats upward, resting loosely at the base of his neck. His chain is cold against his heated skin but all he can focus on is the glide of your hand over his neck.

His cock twitches inside you and your smile widens. “Is this okay?” You whisper, “This okay, bunny?”

“Harder,” Jungkook groans, “Fuck, harder, baby.”

“Like this?” You ask innocently, closing your hand around the sensitive spots of his neck. His pretty eyes flutter as he nods, a quiet moan slipping out into the air.

“You’re pretty like this,” You say softly, “Shit, you’re pretty like this…”

He lets out a choked laugh at that. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his hastily. Jungkook thrusts upward, hips meeting your ass but your hand doesn’t leave his neck. Not just yet. You breathe into his mouth, allowing him to swallow your soft whimpers.

You wet your lips with a loud smack and cradle his cheek gently. Jungkook is mesmerized by the heat in your eyes, smoldering and burning through his skin. You let your fingers glide over your clit, gathering wetness and before Jungkook can ask what you're doing-

“Open,” You mumble hoarsely, “Open, bunny.”

Pushing a finger past his chapped lips, you gasp at the sight of him below you with your fingers in his mouth.

You could cum just from watching him. His tongue swirls over your finger before sucking lightly with a pretty flush covering his cheeks. Your eyes widen, another gasp brushing over his cheeks.

“Fuck,” You mumble dreamily, “You’re so good, bunny.”

Your body is burning, jaw slack and the feeling of Jungkook’s bare cock inside of you almost too much to handle. It was wildly irresponsible- he wasn’t wearing a condom and you weren’t on birth control, and it was a conversation for later. But you can’t think, not when it feels this good, not when you’ve had a taste of his cock in this way. Besides, he always pulls out just in time. But still, you both should know better.

“Oh, Jungkook,” You whine, “‘m close, I’m so fucking close, make me cum, bunny-”

“Baby,” Jungkook rasps, “My pretty baby looks so good on my cock like this. My smart, kind, b-beautiful girl, my angel-”

Tears prick your eyes- it’s easy for you to become overwhelmed like this. You tug your hands away and thread your fingers through his, dipping your head for a kiss.

“You like that, angel? You like being mine?” Jungkook murmurs, slowing your hips so he can take over. But he knows you’re close.

“Only yours,” You mumble. Jungkook pulls you into his chest swiftly and flips you so that you’re on your back. He places your legs over his shoulders and brackets your head with his forearms, his necklace just above your nose and his hair tickling your face. But you're mesmerized by the determination and adoration in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” You murmur brokenly, “O-oh, y-yeah, baby, there, mmmf-” You squeeze his biceps with a gasp, watching his face closely. Pushing his hair behind his ears, you cradle his cheek and pull him down for a sweet, long kiss.

His fingers dance across your thighs and rub your clit in slow circles and murmuring soft words of praise in your ear. You’re vaguely aware that your body erupts in a tidal wave of flames, warming you from inside out. You don’t hear anything except for your cries of his name, you don’t see anything but him through your blurry eyes.

“Baby,” Jungkook says through clenched teeth, “O-open your mouth, baby. Fuck, baby, this pussy- I’m gonna cum, baby, fuck-”

You open your mouth with hooded eyes and your tongue lolling out and Jungkook pulls out of you abruptly with a series of curses. He’s not fast enough to get all of his cum in your mouth, some of it landing on your cheek. You swallow his cum with a dopey smile and open your arms for him to bury his face in your tits.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook says breathlessly, rolling off of you and pulling you into his side, “This pussy’s gonna be the death of me. Where’d you learn to ride dick like that, huh?”

“I’ll never tell,” You mumble, “Gimme a kiss.”

And so he does, tasting himself on your lips. He kisses you nice and slow, just how you both like after a night like this. Eventually he cleans you up and you do the same for him.

Under the covers with only the shared warmth between your sheets to keep you company, you rest your head on Jungkook’s bicep and look up at him. Your fingers continue tracing patterns on his chest, tracing the swirls and curves of ink as they appear.

Jungkook dips his head to nudge your nose and you softly laugh as his hair falls into your face. “What are you thinking about, baby?” He murmurs, lazily draping an arm over you. By now, you’ve realized that Jungkook is possibly the most vulnerable with you in moments like this. When you’re both bare and basking in a post-sex haze.

That’s not to say that he’s not vulnerable at other times. But it’s just different like this.

You take his hand and thread your fingers through his. His fingers are bare, as you had taken his rings off and they’re currently sitting in your jewelry dish on your dresser.

“We just,” You murmur, “We spent so long being apart. When we should’ve been together. All because I…”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly but gently, “Don’t do that. You’re where you’re supposed to be. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“But we wasted so much time not being together because of me,” You mumble forlornly, feeling your throat getting a little dry, “Because I listened to Sora and didn’t-”

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook says, pulling you in for a hug and a forehead kiss, “That’s not true at all. We’re together now, and we both had some growing to do. That’s what matters.”

“Okay,” You reply in a strained voice. You don’t quite sound like you believe him, and Jungkook makes a mental note of that. “Do you feel like… we have lost time to make up for?”

“Do you feel like that?” Jungkook counters, making your heart skip a beat, “Because I don’t. I know it’s hard, baby, but you can’t beat yourself up for that. It’s in the past, baby. Forgive yourself. There’s nothing to race against, it’s just me and you.”

“I’ll try,” You say a little meekly. Jungkook nods and pulls you in for a soft kiss, one that has your toes curling and your belly flipping. He shifts so that you’re tucked into his side, surrounded by him and his hands on your skin. He kisses you until your previous thoughts don’t feel so loud in your head, he whispers to you and pulls sweet laughs from your throat until you can detach from the strange cloud that had suddenly appeared.

He’s your safe place.

*********

MoM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ULTRAANONYMOUSEY @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[septiembrre]

I'm a little late but I just saw your post from a year ago about latinx rep in good girls and its sad reflecting back on it and how the show could've done better. Rio was just another stereotype, I hate how he was ambitiously latino and there was just no connection to his culture. Was he first, 2nd, or 3rd Gen? If he was 1st Gen it didn't make sense to have the family speak English. One thing that always annoyed me is how OOC he was at times and how the writers purposely made him out to be like some brown aggressive misogynistic man. They didn't bother making him complex. In a way I'm glad the show got canceled. As a Mexican woman the way Rio was written was racist.

Wah, I’ve been sitting on answering your ask. I wanted to tease your ask apart and respond to it sentence by sentence. But... my brain kept rechazandolo, so now I have feelings dump instead.

Since Good Girls ended, I have been parsing through how I feel about S4 and GG overall — sometimes more positively, sometimes more negatively. Then, I flip to reminding myself it’s not that serious (it's just tv! this is supposed to be my leisure activity!). Then, I waffle back to reflecting.

So, no textual analysis just feels and whining under the cut. I know folks are still mourning the end of the show and I don't want to yuck anyone's yum. Tagging with #ggnegativity.

My short answer is that Good Girls is my beloved, sometimes joyful, sometimes hurtful, complicated little show. Even now that we’re no longer getting new episodes I’m wary of sifting through the information we have about Rio because it’s a mess and it seems like a lot of his character was poorly thought out (ahem, all those dumb messages from Bill Krebs confirming multiple instances of lack of intentionality or care!).

I say this because I was tempted to start responding to you by riffing off of your comment with, “y'know, now that you say that, I think he’s third or fourth gen…”, pero who cares? And the point was never specifically about what gen he is, or even more specifically about... lol, I was going to say it doesn't matter what nationality he was, they just needed to pick one. Ugh, but the wording of that is too glib. The lack of intentionality behind these details feels sanitized to me, it feels very white gaze, it feels lazy.

However, I could have forgiven a lot of this weak character construction if his baseline, plot-related characterization on-screen was more consistent. But, Rio was often used as a plot device in a way that often fell flat for me, a weekly recurring bogeyman whether his antagonism made sense or not. On one hand, I feel for the creative team, because I think they were in a hard place, trying to avoid romanticizing Rio, and trying to seemingly backtrack the sexualization of him in Season 2, but... Idk, it's complicated.

Retrospectively, it’s sitting with me how much Good Girls is rooted in whiteness. While it's something I discerned before (lol, most obviously with 2x13 and in S3 with Lucy's disposability), you know how some shows get to their third or fourth season and finally start investing in their marginalized characters? It’s a crappy thing to hold out hope for, they're crumbs! But, I was. And we did get some Rio worldbuilding. But, ultimately, it felt weak to me -- under-conceptualized or under-worked.

For example, I liked Nick as a Bigger Bad who drove Rio and Beth together. I also thought that Nick's non-existent moral code was a lovely foil to Rio's, and that this contrast humanized Rio in a way that he needed. It also cast a new light on Rio's behavior of the earlier seasons, outside of Beth's perception in a way that I thought was healthy and needed. Great, meaty stuff! However, Nick and Rio's relationship came across as shallow to me. There really did not seem to be a lived-in quality to their scenes. The show really struggled with that element overall -- even with the three lead protagonists (their decades-long history with each other and interactions between their families being largely absent). I wonder why they made that choice.

It's strange because on the flip side we got a hefty amount of contextualization for MLM guy Vance and Annie's bf Kevin... Even that cop who Mick killed! All white men, too.

Me da pena.

Or maybe the thing that bothers me is that those scenes between Nick and Rio didn't center Rio's perspective effectively? Despite the one-on-one scenes being outside of Beth's framing (Rio being a secondary character typically tethered to Beth's story arc), there still was a lot of distance between Rio and the viewer? Like I think of Vance in his kitchen with his wife and child, and the way we as viewers were brought into that to empathize with him, and I think of the distance of Nick+Rio boxing scene or the scenes at the bar. Argh! It's hard to pinpoint without the textual analysis I feel too grumpy to do. It was such a narrative choice to keep Rio aloof and I side-eye it.

Anyway --

Overall, the writing room/show creators/decision-makers didn't seem to consider Latine/x/a/o viewers throughout the crafting of Good Girls and that sucks. It really feels like I'm being told to conform to the white gaze in watching the show, and after 2x13 that makes me feel prickly and defensive. A part of me yearns to do a rewatch to map Rio’s character (and inconsistencies) but I still yield joy from Good Girls — it’s been my main comfort story during the pandemic. I also rendered joy from Season 4 specifically — some of those scenes between the leads at the end were phenom!!

I am leaning into what's bringing me joy right now, so I feel hesitant to stew in critique, even while I also feel some sort of need to make sense of the hurtful racializations. I have a compulsion to write them all down on the same post or list -- somewhere where I can see them all at once and understand. But, at the moment, it’s not a use of my time and energy that feels good. Opting into fics and writing is bringing me a lot of joy during hard times.

I have to close with one final whine, that I am SO fatigued with television options right now. I find myself desperately wishing for more TV out there whose priority audience isn't only white folks. Good Girls isn't alone in its treatment of Latinx characters, or alone in mishandling characters of color or gay characters, or prioritization of empathy for white het male characters, but certainly, creating something more thoughtful shouldn't be so hard.

[beeexx]

Fic: Autumn 

4 tattoos on TK’s body, 4 stories set over each of the 4 season. Carlos and TK grow closer.

Read part one here or read the whole thing on ao3, see the end notes there for more of my comments.  

-----------

It’s been raining on and off for weeks now, the humidity thick in the air, mixing badly with the chillier temperatures in the mornings and evenings, the sky looking a lot like someone’s taken a paintbrush to it and permanently painted it a depressing colour of grey that’s never going to disappear. Carlos is either constantly overdressed or underdressed and the uncertainty of the days, the constant rain, and the stress he’s been under for a few weeks now has made him extremely tired.

Which is why he and TK’s had a fight. They don’t often do this, Carlos has the patience of a saint, he knows this, Owen’s told him that on numerous occasions when TK’s been a little difficult and Owen’s been struggling to not lose his own temper, even TK’s gratefully expressed that too on a few occasions. So yes, he is very aware of how calm and patient he can be. But today Carlos has had a bad day at work and he’s tired and it’s just his luck that today of all days clashes with one of TK’s bad days, where he is anxious and too wrapped up in his own head to really be able to read signals.

Carlos doesn’t fault TK for this, of course not, but when his boyfriend is being uncooperative and uncommunicative, and not having had the strength to not drink that fourth cup of coffee today, their moods are doomed to clash. And it turns into a fight over something really stupid that causes TK to slam the bedroom door shut and for Carlos to kind of want to cry as it rattles on its hinges, that’s how much he feels that everything is too much right now. 

He’s bent over the stove, staring angrily at the uncooked chicken in the pan and wishes he could set it on fire or something, that would maybe make him feel fractionally better. Carlos really doesn’t want to fight, and he really doesn’t want to fight with TK, but even he has bad days where all signals go straight over the other one’s head and the answer ‘I’m fine’ with a foot bouncing unrelentlessly while hanging off the chair with a nose in phone, means that TK is definitely not fine, sometimes that doesn’t always translate for Carlos. Particularly not on a day like this.

He knows most of the signs and tells when TK is anxious, has been through one anxiety attack triggered by a nightmare with him where he might have remained totally collected on the outside while on the inside his heart broke in two because his boyfriend was on the floor telling him he couldn’t breathe and that image is doomed to haunt him for a long time. It was scary, but he’s seen panic before and he recognized the signs immediately and they talked through it afterwards and moved past it, well adjusted to deal with it in the future.

And TK isn’t selfish, he’s pretty good at reading Carlos’ in return, but not on the days where Carlos is strung so tightly he could snap in half due to days full of picking kids up from places where their parents are fighting with fists, bloody from the violence and almost always on something while the kids are hiding, their faces blank without tears because they’ve been through it too many times by then to know it doesn’t help. He doesn’t know what’s worse, that they’ve seen too much of this already, that it’s become so normalised for them they’ve already accepted it, or when they see it for the first time and Carlos is forced to gather them up in his arms, talk to them or sing to distract from the vicious yelling from the other room while child services are being called and the parents are dragged away in handcuffs screaming bloody murder. Yeah, sometimes he hates his job.

So, it’s been a bad day and coming home to a TK that is a nervous ball of tightly strung energy too, is not a good combination.

Carlos exhales, feels absolutely exhausted by now and he’s honestly ready to just go to sleep on the couch and forget about everything. He hears the bedroom door open, prepares himself for some short clipped words from TK informing him that he’s going home to his dad to sleep, instead, and this goes to show how upset and distracted he is, when TK steps in close and wraps his arms around him instead. He freezes for a moment, rendered shocked before he snaps out of it, covering TK’s hands with his own. 

He’s about to turn around so he can hug back for real when he feels TK’s arms slip from his, hurt he turns to look at TK, but TK’s already taken his hand in his, tugs on it until Carlos follows him, and walks him over to the couch. Gently he pushes him down on it, and Carlos goes willingly, at first not understanding what TK is doing. He gets the hint that TK wants him to lie down though, and when he does TK wordlessly climbs on top of him, laying down, covering him with his body. Dumbstruck he puts his arms around TK, feels his calming breathing on top of him, and somehow he calms down himself. TK winds his own arms around him too and with the both of them on top of each other like this, it’s a snug fit on the small couch. But it doesn’t matter, having TK near calms him immediately.  

“I’m sorry.” TK whispers. “I didn’t mean to be difficult.” Carlos shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay, I’m very sorry too.”

“I know work’s been a lot for you recently and I should have been more considerate, it’s just, it’s hard for me sometimes when I get stuck in my head to see that you’re struggling too.” He admits and Carlos nods, he understands.

“And I’m not leaving, I promise.” It makes Carlos stop for a moment, the words taking him by surprise because while it’s been hanging over them from the beginning that TK’s been scared that Carlos is going to leave him because he’s has got it into his head that he’s going to be too much and have too much baggage for it to be fair to Carlos to have to deal with it too, Carlos cannot help but feel the exact same at times as well. Especially when TK is upset and angry and on the rare occasions that they do fight, that he’ll leave. Not for long, but for a few hours and the thought of that is just too much for him sometimes that it makes him not think clearly, panicked into apathy almost. 

“I’m in it for the long run I promise.” Carlos tightens his arms around him, breathes him in, feels the weight of TK ground him into the couch, and he focuses on that feeling of safety, allowing it to embrace him for a moment as he swallows down the tears.

“I know.” He whispers, hears his voice waver slightly. “I know, but it’s nice to hear you say it nonetheless.” 

TK sits up, rests his elbow on either side of Carlos and wipes the escaping tear away gently, and kisses his cheek.

“I love you Carlos, I’m not leaving.”

“I know…”

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned and Carlos shrugs, not totally used to being on the receiving end of TK’s worry. It makes him feel a little odd but he’s also understanding TK’s own hesitancy to opening up to Carlos in the beginning of their relationship, it’s scary.

“Work has not been easy recently. It’s just been a lot of bad stuff involving kids and social services and drugs, it’s making me feel useless. These kids, they deserve better and most of them just want their parents to love them. Separating them like this feels inhumane.” He admits, shakes his head to prevent more tears from escaping. 

TK nods but he winces and he has that rare look on his face, one Carlos knows means that he wants to protect him, wishes he could carry some of the burden for Carlos himself. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on call and he has to deal with a particularly difficult rescue, where instincts kick in and he will do everything he can to save the person.

It’s strange but Carlos recognises it’s deeply meaningful to be on the receiving end of it, Carlos can’t imagine there’s many people alive that TK cares this deeply about.

“I’m very very sorry about that.”

“Yeah...me too. But taking it out on you when you’re clearly not feeling your best either is not okay and I’m sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to and I wasn’t exactly helping my case along by being inconsiderate.”

“Agreed then that we both made mistakes?” Carlos says, his lip twitching a little and TK nods, smile small.

“Yeah, agreed.” He leans forward and kisses Carlos’ nose, a soft gentle gesture and it lodges something fiercely in his throat for a moment, making him gulp down the tears. 

But it makes him feel better too, and the tough and long day has started to diminish slightly by now when he feels warm and loved and comforted by the love of his life.

“Tell me about your day.” He tells TK and he huffs but smiles softly and nods, leans down again and while he talks he keeps placing butterfly light kisses on Carlos’ exposed skin, making his heart flutter in love.

He talks for a bit and Carlos hums and nods and doesn’t say much, starts to feel himself drifting off but feeling too tired to stop it.

…..

He wakes by the cascading sound of water against his windows, sits up confused as to where he is for a moment and why there is a blanket draped over him, the loud noise alerting him to the roaring storm outside. The living room light is off but the kitchen ones are on and there are two steaming plates of food standing on the counter, TK absent. He yawns, stretches and gets up in search of his boyfriend. It doesn’t take long, he comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Carlos’, a little loose around the arms. He smiles when he spots Carlos is up and comes close, wrapping his arms around him. He looks better Carlos notes, less burdened than when earlier. 

“Hi.” He smiles. Carlos can’t help but smile back, loving it when he gets to see TK like this, completely at ease, facade gone, face open and soft looking in clothes that belong to him. 

He feels his heart grow in size and he leans down, kisses his boyfriend and hopes it conveys everything he feels that he can’t find the words for at the moment. TK seems to appreciate it and somehow understand it too, he hums, wraps his arms tighter around his neck and gives in to the kiss completely. He could do this forever, but he’s hungry and whatever there is that TK’s made smells lovely, so he breaks the kiss and TK kisses his nose before he steps back, but only a little, still keeping close to Carlos.

“You cooked.” He comments lifting an eyebrow. TK shrugs, a little unsure.

“Yeah, I have no idea what you had planned to make before the fight but you fell asleep and I thought you might appreciate some food when you woke up.” Carlos' heart melts, he loves him so much. 

TK looks back and Carlos kisses him again, taking the breath out of him as TK’s surprise becomes evident. Carlos steps back and TK looks dazed, he blinks and Carlos smiles.

“Thank you, I love it.” And a shy little smile breaks across TK’s smile, relief mixing with love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I am starving.”

“Good.” They step apart to sit down and the evening that started out horrendously turns into something soft and beautiful instead, both of them tucked away into a little bubble of light while it rains heavily outside, unbeknownst to them. 

After dinner and the dishes have been cleaned away they move to the couch again, Carlos also having changed out of his jeans to fully enjoy the downtime. An episode of Criminal Minds is playing on TV, not Carlos’ favourite thing to watch when he wants to relax, but TK enjoys it and has taken to asking Carlos questions about what they do being realistic or not. 

He’s not paying attention to the episode though, his attention is on TK more than anything else right now, his head in Carlos’ lap, eyes attentive on the screen, his hair soft and loose, having been left unstyled after the shower, breathing slow and calm. He’s stroking a hand up and down his arm, making goosebumps erupt on his skin, something he delights a little too much in doing. 

The sleeve of the shirt has risen up, and there is one of TK’s many different tattoos. This one is the SOS one, the world as the O and it’s pretty, Carlos actually likes it a lot, can’t help but be curious about it too. He moves his hand over it, fingers gently hovering above it until he has TK’s full attention. It takes a while for him to notice that the stroking has stopped and he moves his head, frowning slightly.

“What is it?” He asks, Carlos smiles, a little cheekily.

“What about this one.” He taps gently at the underside of his upper arm and TK’s eyes move to it. When he gets what Carlos is asking he huffs but he nimbly moves and lies down on his back, meeting Carlos’ eyes. Carlos gets a pillow from behind himself, motions for TK to move and puts it under his head making it more comfortable for him.

“Okay this one really doesn’t have as deep a meaning as the other one, just to warn you.”

“It doesn’t have to be deep.” He reassures. “I just want to know more about you.” TK’s eyes go soft for a moment and he draws in a sharp breath.

“I love you so much.” He whispers and Carlos smiles brilliantly, leans forward and kisses TK. 

The angle is all wrong and kissing upside down really isn’t as sexy as they make it out to be in films, not that it matters, the action, softly kissing someone he loves is all that matters.

“I love you too.” He sits back.

“Okay, well this really isn’t that deep. But you know I love the ocean?” Carlos nods.

“Well I went on a trip with some friends to California for a weekend when I was younger and there was this activism group that was protesting and advocating for the protection of our seas so I stopped and talked with one of the guys and he was really passionate about it. I learnt a lot from him and I guess it just kick started my own passion for the sea.”

“Yeah?”

“But the tattoo came after a drunk night out, same trip though, where I flirted with the tattoo artist for long enough to make him agree to do it even though I very obviously wasn’t sober.”

“You little menace.” TK flashes him a cheeky grin, clearly proud of the achievement.

“Well the tattoo turned out nice though.” He strokes his thumb appreciatively over it and TK nods.

“It did.” 

“What happened with the dude?”

“I went home with him for the night.” Carlos snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Of course you did.” TK chuckles.

“But yes the tattoo turned out nice, it really did. Not that I am against putting tattoos or piercings or stuff on your body that don’t have any meaning. But I guess it’s nice when some of them do.”

“It’s art, I like it on you, adds another layer to you, as well as making you hot as hell.”

“Yeah?” TK lifts an eyebrow, intrigued now, fishing for details, wanting more. Carlos chuckles but he can’t really resist TK when he looks at him like he does now, biting at his lip, knowing of course exactly what he’s doing to Carlos. 

“You are a menace.” TK chuckles, sits up, easily turning around planting himself in Carlos’ lap, kicking away the pillow.

“Yep, but you love it.”

“I do.” He says leaning forward, meeting TK in the middle. 

They don’t last too long on the couch because after becoming an actual well adjusted couple both of them prefer having sex in the bedroom, it makes for much more intimacy than a quickie on this small couch do for either of them these days. Not that they are exactly opposed to having sex a bit all over the place at Carlos’, but after the evening they’ve had, the bedroom it defintiely is.

Carlos turns off the TV, carries his boyfriend easily enough to his bedroom and closes the door behind them.

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART VII — masterlist

concept: a drunken game of never have i ever leads to a failed skinny dip and high sexual tensions, as well as some cuddling and late night confessions. the slowest of slow burns, part eight of many. can be read solo.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: strippin', mild alcohol abuse, sexual tension, aNgSt

author's note: by far my favourite chapter so far, i'm so in my feels about this one. the thing at the end is a more or less direct quote from one of chris' interviews, adapted slightly to fit the story. now if you'll excuse me, i'll be crying in the corner :) prepare for an emotional rollercoaster—

Never Have I Ever was a dangerous game.

Never Have I Ever, mixed with truth or dare and maybe a touch too much alcohol? A lot worse.

The rules of the game were simple: propose something you've never done, or had always wanted to do, and if the other person had done it, they'd drink. But there was a catch: should the person who had done it wish it, they could dare the other to do it. If they refused, they had to do another shot, and the game would continue.

There were three things responsible for why you were outside in the chilled night air stripped down to your underwear.

The first to blame was Chris.

You could still remember his ever-so-cocky proclamation, already pouring out a shot for you to take. "Never have I ever gone skinny dipping."

Any doubt he had in his mind of whether or not you had – his assumption unfounded and vaguely unwarranted, but no less true – was immediately banished by your exasperated sigh and your taking of the shot glass from his fingertips.

Which led you to the second thing to blame: alcohol.

Alcohol had you loosened up and far too familiar around him, more bold and daring than sobriety would care for. You always prided yourself on being able to speak your mind, but around Chris, you were often rendered speechless. Or at least a bit more censored.

And so it was alcohol who set you up for the third to blame: yourself.

The shot went down easy – it was the fancy stuff, with a smoother texture than anything you'd ever consumed before, often only being able to afford the cheapest shot on the menu (often reminiscent of rubbing alcohol) when going out with friends – and was followed by an undaunted request slipping past liquored lips. "Alright, well, I dare you to go skinny dipping."

It didn't sound like you, but it was entirely you. And once the words were said, there was no taking them back.

An unidentifiable look crossed Chris' face, gone almost instantly, replaced by the furrow of his brow in mild confusion, before morphing into a lopsided mischievous grin. "Only if you come with me."

And so there you were, half naked and shuddering in the breeze that toyed with the ends of your hair.

"You were being serious?"

Chris had come outside to join you, and you found a hint of annoyance at the fact that he was still fully clothed.

"Deadly," you managed to get out past the chattering vibration of your teeth.

"You do know that skinny dipping means fully nude, right? Otherwise it doesn't count."

"I know," you bit back. You had your arms folded over yourself, suddenly self conscious under his heavy gaze.

He made no effort to disguise his appreciation, alcohol clouding his better judgement. Heated blue eyes raked over your figure, languid, slow. The tip of his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips.

His lids were hooded, easily dropping into a cheeky wink.

There was something about his hungry gaze on you that ate away at all inhibitions, and you dropped your arms, revealing yourself fully to him.

The way his breath caught was almost entirely inaudible, but you heard it nonetheless as you stalked forward, adding a confident sway to your hips. "Take off your shirt."

The command was so assertive, you surprised even yourself.

He didn't hesitate, immediately shedding the article of clothing and tossing it carelessly to the side.

His eyes were fixated on you, his breaths heavy and stuttering. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears as your heart rate picked up.

As you drew closer, his eyes became more visible. The pupils were blown out – consuming almost every and any hint of blue – and there was something unmistakably feral lurking in the depths.

You were practically chest to chest, so close your breaths mingled, carrying the taste of liquor, so close you could feel his erratic heartbeat syncing to your own.

A tentative hand raised itself, finding purchase on his chest. His skin was searingly warm against your cold fingertips, and it was either their chill or something entirely else that caused the shiver to run unbidden down Chris' spine.

"I need you to do something for me," you whispered. Your voice had taken on a sultry tone, one that had Chris' eyelids fluttering.

"Anything." His voice was husky, low. Intoxicating. "I'll do anything."

His head was ducking lower, his attention solely dominated by your lips, the way the lower one was caught between your teeth in an almost shy nibble, such a stark contrast to the assuredness of your voice and actions. When you spoke, your voice was a honeyed hiss. "Don't fight it."

And then you pushed.

So preoccupied with you – everything about you – he had been, that the push into the awaiting water of the pool wrenched a strangled yelp of surprise from him.

Your laughter was loud in the still night air, a stillness that was broken also by the sudden splash and the many more to follow as Chris floundered in the water.

When he resurfaced, he was livid.

"That wasn't fair."

"Fair was not on the books, Evans." Your apologetic smile was entirely negated by the amused lilt in your voice.

"Come on, help me out." He waved you over to where he was standing, somewhat dangerously close to the edge. Almost, but not quite, within arms reach of you – you stood just beyond his grasp. His hand was extended expectantly, eyebrow cocked. "These jeans aren't chlorine friendly."

"Sorry to spoil your wardrobe, Captain Armani, but how stupid do you really think I am?"

You had seen it a thousand times before: someone asks for help to get out of the pool, only to have the naïve saint fall victim and pulled into the icy depths. You were no saint, and you certainly weren't going to fall victim. Specifically not to Chris Evans, and his adorable pout, and those oh so enticing ocean eyes.

He sighed, disheartened, slapping the water to splash you.

The squeal that tore itself from your throat was nothing short of hilarious as you dodged the droplets.

Chris waded to the edge, propping his hands on the side of the pool.

The very act of him pulling himself out of the water was sheer hypnotism at its finest. Water rolled off him, glistening like a thousand stars in the moonlight. The rippling water – lit by the lights in the pool – cast waving patterns all along his back, the dents of his muscles being lost only to be highlighted again.

You watched him, mouth slightly ajar in awe, as he hoisted himself out of the pool, twisting his body to land, sitting on the edge, jean clad legs dangling in the rippling water.

The sound of wet denim slapping on the pool tiles from him sitting was enough to snap you out of it.

He was breathing heavy, the shock of the water still working its way out of his system as he gazed up at the sky, hands running through his dirty blond hair to slick it away from his face.

He looked beautiful. He looked beautiful, and suddenly, it registered to you that you had been about to kiss.

Was that why you had pushed him? Panic? Sheer unholy panic at the prospect of a drunken kiss?

You swallowed thickly and reached a shaky hand to his shoulder. You were so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but you weren't touching him. Not yet.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. "What are we doing?"

At his words, your hand dropped to your side. His shoulders tensed momentarily – almost as if they had sensed your closeness and coiled in anticipation – before they slackened. He slowly turned to face you.

By the time you recognized the look, it was too late.

You hit the water, breath crushed from your lungs as you struggled to reconcile sudden wetness with the events that occurred.

With lightning quick efficiency, Chris had grabbed you and all but thrown you over his head, face first in the water.

You sputtered as you clambered for purchase, finally finding somewhere shallow enough for you to stand.

No sooner had you broken the surface, Chris had leapt into the water again, sending a fresh wave over you.

You splashed him directly in the face. "It's not funny, asshole."

"Oh, on the contrary, sweetheart," he grinned. You almost wanted to punch yourself for the way you melted just a little at the pet name. You were angry, not whatever this was. "It's hilarious."

——————

After a considerable amount of time had passed, you both dragged yourself from the water, laugh drunk and not anywhere close to sober in spite of the shock the cold had introduced to your system.

That was evident enough in the way Chris caught you as you almost tripped on your way out of the pool.

"Woah, hey, easy now," he chuckled.

Your thanks was a playful shove of his shoulder before you staggered over to your clothes. You groaned, shivering in the night, your underwear doing nothing to preserve heat. Your clothes were wet; an unhappy side effect from all the splashing and messing around in the pool.

You sighed, pretty sure your lips were already turning blue.

That was when Chris merely – but oh so sweetly – extended his discarded shirt to you in offering.

A silent exchange passed.

You shook your head, he raised his brow. He waved the shirt insistently. You rolled your eyes, plucking it from his water pruned fingers, and quickly pulled it over your head.

It smelled like him, and you almost deluded yourself into thinking it was still warm from his body. If anything, it was just a much needed layer against the cold.

After you had collected your things, you both darted inside, almost visibly relaxing in the sudden wave of warmth.

Dodger, who had remained unconcerned with your late night swim for the most part, raised his head in acknowledgement before flopping back down in his bed to go back to sleep. It was almost laughable to think of him as the energetic furball he was earlier that day, but then again, he had every reason to be exhausted.

Chris silently excused himself to his room – wet feet slapping loudly on the ground, jeans heavy with water and dripping – and you quickly slipped off your bra in his absence, worried it would soak through his shirt.

It had already begun to smell more like chlorine than him, and you felt an inconsolable – and, in the grand scheme of things, highly minuscule – loss.

You sank down on the couch, waiting for his return. He had only managed to get you out of the pool with the promise of a movie to wind down the night, and he had even given you the highly sought after privilege of choosing said film.

"Oh, so now you decide to put on a shirt."

Chris had come back, clad in soft grey sweatpants and a white short sleeve that must've been a size too small by the way it clung to his muscular frame. "And you've still neglected to put on pants. Typical."

You rolled your eyes, shifting to give him some space on the couch.

"So," he started, almost apologetically. "I know I said you could pick the movie but we have a rule in this house – Disney movies only, so you'll either have to be very persuasive or have to endure my singing..."

———————

You were a lot of things – avid film fanatic being one of them.

You could safely boast having watched all Harry Potter films in one sitting, dashing to the bathroom only between end credit sequences, and ordering takeout – perfectly timed to the end credits as well – and consuming cereal as your main forms of sustenance.

You weren't going to call it healthy, but it certainly was impressive.

So why, only halfway through The Little Mermaid, were you feeling the onset of drowsiness beginning to claw your eyes shut?

It must've been the alcohol. You could still taste it on your tongue, thick in the back of your throat.

And although you tried to fight it, your eyes were drifting shut with every passing song, every one of Chris' adorable performances and–

You woke to your cheek pressed against something warm and... moving?

You opened your bleary eyes. At least you tried to – you were still on the precipice of falling back asleep. Your pillow stirred, and suddenly, you were wide awake and fully aware of your surroundings.

You were in the lounge, on the couch, where you had fallen asleep on–

"Hey."

Chris greeted you softly, the warmest of smiles on his lips. He had been idly scrolling through his phone as the credits rolled, the movie having finished not a minute before.

Through the windows, darkness stretched towards the sparkle of the inner city, and in your clouded head, you registered Chris' hand carding gently through your damp hair.

You heard the distinct sound of Chris' phone locking as he set it aside, attention fully on you now. It was almost instantaneous, the way his face lit up seeing you.

"I..." Your tongue was still heavy with sleep as you tried to untangle yourself from him to no avail. Exhaustion was still thick in your body, and it was obvious to him, too. "I'm sorry, I must've fallen asleep."

He shushed you, the rumble of his voice soothing you. "Don't worry about it, just go back to sleep..."

It didn't take much convincing on your part.

At the recognition of his consent, you all but fell back down onto him.

You were almost grateful; the weight of his legs – entwined with yours – was somewhat reassuring and near impossible to extricate yourself from in your current state. Not that you even wanted to.

He hadn't the heart to tell you that one of his legs had gone to sleep about ten minutes ago. Not with you lying on him, looking so calm and at peace. Something stirred in his chest.

And a full blown heart attack was almost brought on by what you murmured next, muffled by his chest but no less audible.

"Hey, Chris?"

He hummed in response.

"Why me?" You were fighting the sleep that was slowly claiming you again, and that question had been nagging at you since you had first moved in. You just never had the courage to ask it, but with more alcohol coursing through your system than blood...

You didn't need to elaborate. He knew what you meant. Why you, exactly.

"I live in hope everyone has these experiences, whether it's someone you met and spent the whole night with, or even a meeting that lasted five seconds at a train station. Moments that were so personal and so special, it was hard to explain to somebody else."

Emotion was thick in his voice, but it was almost entirely lost on you. You nodded slightly in understanding, encouraging him to finish.

"I decided that I wanted you in my life, and when I saw you again, it was almost like the universe was giving me a second chance. It was like it was telling me to not let this one go."

And he didn't. At least not until morning.

[mc-critical]

hey, welcome back! hope your exams and stuff went well, and that you're doing fine now.

i wanted to hear your opinion on nigar hatun. i remember seeing one post of yours in which you said that she wasn't a favourite of yours like you favoured other characters and honestly, same. i didn't really much understand the fascination with her. she was an interesting character, but i can't imagine having her as a favourite when there are so many more characters who are far more interesting. i wish they gave her an alternate arc. idk what it could be, i'd like to hear your opinion on it. one alternative ending i came up for her is that she was extremely angry at ibrahim for toying with her and hatice for keeping her sweet little esmanur from her so she joins hurrem to defeat them? which hurrem did try but it didn't really go anywhere and nigar was against hurrem for killing ibrahim which just was kinda frustrating. they literally give hurrem no ally in the harem [except mihrimah later on but mihri is overall varying in terms of power] so it would be good for her to have some support in the harem from people who actually hated her enemies like her. she had actual political support from iskender celebi, rustem, and ayaz pasha and all, sure, but she didn't have much support in the harem, like all powerful women of the harem were against her. nigar obviously wasn't powerful like a sultan but she was an old member of the harem, was respected and even though she kinda lost her dignity with the scandal, she could've regained it with hurrem's help. sumbul was there later on but he was just a very faithful servant and didn't really have any real motive to harm any of hurrem's enemies except for out of his loyalty whilst nigar could've cultivated a hatred for hatice and ibrahim. this is a basic plot but i would've kinda liked seeing it. there can be many more ways her character could've ended but it would be good seeing a woman who didn't bow to her feelings all the time. the sultanas couldn't really control their feelings when it came to love because they were princesses who were used to getting what they wanted most of the time but nigar was a servant who also suffered the hardships of slavery and it obviously would've made her tougher as a person so she could control her feelings better; idk, i feel like this is an aspect of women they could've explored [or if they did explore it, i don't remember it lol my memory lapses a lot so i don't remember the show 100%] anyway, would like to hear your thoughts on nigar. thank you. welcome back again <3

Thank you! <33 Yup, I'm fine and the exams went well. Happy Pride month to you, too! 🏳️‍🌈

Hehe, I wrote that post years ago and while Nigar still isn't one of my absolute favourite characters, I've warmed up to her quite a bit. And honestly, now with the wider experience in the fandom, I can say that she isn't all that loved as it looks like. I then was under the limited wrong impression that the BG Mamma forum was a metric of all the popular opinions and yes, they loved Nigar a lot and I was sometimes confused as to why, but really, that and the Russian fanbase are the only places I have encountered that appreciate her all that much. There are characters I find more interesting than her, that's for sure, but she has her charm and I'm firmly against people reducing her to "evil" or "manipulative" or "weak after she fell in love with Ibrahim", so forth.

The thing she sets her first impression with is her intelligence caused by her relatively high experience in the harem. The advice she gave to Hürrem opened the path to her whole goal (as she herself acknowledged in E41) and that makes for quite an impact for a more recurring character. Despite of this, I never viewed early Nigar as someone taking an open side, hence I didn't find her supposed betrayal to Hürrem surprising in the slightest: she is also trying to survive in this environment in any way she knows how and she can't really find a fully comfortable position, because she is well aware that everyone is thinking for their own gain in the end. Including her. So the only choice she has left is to direct herself to where the wind is blowing and get advantages for herself once she gets the chance. Because all the experience has taught her to repress her feelings (E10 to Hürrem: "In this castle you can't show weakness."), opt to be the more level-headed person and seek for the more pragmatic solutions.

And yet she is very sensitive and perceptive to people that are different than the others or that are in need and is willing to lend them her hand. She adviced and helped Hürrem because she found potential in her, because she wanted to see her succeed, but not through endangering her own self or other people in the process (she told Hürrem that her game had gone too far again in E41), but through negotiation, compromise and adaption, to know when to start and when to stop and be respectful to those above her, no matter how hard or limiting that may look in Hürrem's eyes. Hürrem had the tendency in viewing every sign of support that came to her as granted, she still had that naive part of innocence in her in S01 and early on was in a desparate need of someone to lean on and unconditionally follow her path, that's why when Nigar diverted from that path, it hurt and took her a while to start trusting her again. But I didn't see Nigar as all that attached to Hürrem as Hürrem herself thought she was, especially with how Nigar became stuck between two sultanas later in S01 and that rendered her lost and more insecure than usual.

That's also why I don't view her as a two-faced or hypocritical double-crosser. Because for the longest time, Nigar was the one character in the series before Rüstem appeared that was clearly thinking about her own benefit and survival first and foremost from the beginning when darting between the powerful people in the harem and was the one well aware that she simply can't cling to a single side in her own position. Positions aren't permanent and can always change in such circumstances, so why can't she take advantage of this? Because who cares as much about the feelings for a Kalfa they can still order around after all? She has faced disregard from Mahidevran, Hürrem, Ibrahim and even Hatice. It is pretty understandable that she's going to seek the best opportunity for herself.

That whole facade breaks when she falls in love with Ibrahim. During rewatch, I found myself to have a soft spot for this character deconstruction, especially in S02. I know that it came to pass because of her falling in love with a man that doesn't share the same feelings and there were moments where it looked like she overdid it, even in S02, but for me, the whole thing nicely added a new layer of depth, while still feeling true to Nigar's character. Her future relationship with Ibrahim had been building up back in S01, when Ibrahim (both inadvertently and not I fully believe) played a part in helping her solve the first internal conflict she had (that is the struggle between the two sultanas). Maybe this didn't mean that much to Ibrahim, maybe he was simply trying to be helpful, but it meant a lot to Nigar - that was probably the first time someone seemed to take her feelings into account and actually listen when she couldn't help, but crack under the pressure. So it is only natural that she would search for this source of comfort once again, being ready to face every risk in the process. When she is appointed to Hatice and Ibrahim's castle, when she's practically left alone with Ibrahim, she decides to take that chance, to taste the forbidden fruit. He gave her something she never received and due to her not allowing herself to show weakness and having to cave to everyone else's demands before that, every ounce of affection Ibrahim shows her, it means the world to her. Thus she begins to idealize what she has with him, to the point of denial and delusion, and centers her loyalty completely on him. But that loyalty never seems to falter.  She began to resent and/or hate everyone who could possibly stand in Ibrahim's way, something she wouldn't have ever done before. She keeps her level-headed self and intelligence (I don't think that this plot line reduced it in any way, not even when she was at her worst.) and she's ready to take any opportunity for herself (case in point: her marriage with Rüstem.), but now her softer sides and her wish for affection are showing all the more.

The problem I have with Nigar's character, writing-wise, and now that I think about it, the main subject of why I didn't get the deal with her back then (along with considering her S01 self bland.. somehow?), is her S03B characterization. While her falling in love with Ibrahim plot-line became an important part of S02 Nigar's storyline, I don't think it overshadowed or dominated over her other characteristics, making for a neat balance of traits and an interesting, nuanced character. In an attempt to keep her for longest time possible in the story, S03B flanderized her in every possible way and overexaggerated her biggest strengths and flaws until they became stale and unbelievable. Her love for Ibrahim read as а near obsession narratively and her opportunism coupled with her will for revenge, which put her into many repetitive intrigues. At one point I even felt she was reduced to a plot-device (the moment Şah Sultan appointed her as a spy) and she felt a little too purposeless and to have totally outstayed her welcome until her last moment in the series.

The root of this problem is again, that they just didn't know when to stop with Nigar. To be brutally honest, she had no long-term role left to play after Ibrahim's death and it was time for the writers to let her go and maintain her generally strong characterization. The ending I would've chosen for her is to simply have Matrakcı give her Esmanur's location and for her to live with her daughter in piece. I know that because of the tonal shift, the show seemed to be already inclined that everyone had to have a tragic ending of sorts, to underline the growing ruthlessness and cruelty of the themes, but I fully believe that Nigar was one of the only characters that were terribly forced through their tragic endings. She didn't need, nor deserve a tragic ending and I doubt it would've been such a problem for the half-season if she didn't get one. I find a happier ending to be perfectly fine for Nigar and I would've loved to see it, if only for a freshness in ideas for character endings. I loved her Esmanur storyline and to witness her finding happiness with her, the only solace she had left, would have been a great wrap up of her S03 plots and an amazing send-off to Nigar's character.

I appreciate the thought you have put into your ending for her and to be fair, your proposal would be much better than anything S03B gave us. It would nearly correspond with the revenge plot of hers they were going for and it would be something more original at the same time. Hürrem's principal lack of allies doesn't bother me as a fact alone, because all her enemies have understandable reasons to be against her, but what bothers me however, is when the writers try using it to dumb her enemies down and make them doom themselves through their own failings or outright use it to put forced (often soapy) conflicts to make the audience sympathize with Hürrem. Or to make everyone "mistitle" her (is that a word? probably not.) or disrespect her on purpose again for sympathy points (that go beyond the part of her motivation that wants to feel respected and does stuff out of fear not to fall under a less favorable position once again.), without changing the status-quo until say, S04.

It is so deliberate it becomes annoying and seeing something else for a change... honestly, gimme! While I personally prefer a happy ending for Nigar, I would live for Nigar and Hürrem to work together again, while keeping what's become her central motivation intact. It may seem a little OOC for Nigar to work for Hürrem by that point, because she's channeled her loss of the most precious people into rage on those that have taken them away, but it would be a decent shifting of gears and a reverence to her opportunism to work to eradicate those she hates for good, even if it means doing so with one of your bigger enemies. After all, after the mission is fulfilled, she could still work against Hürrem in some way, right?

[Tell me if I got what you meant wrongly, but there is an example of a dynasty sultana putting her love feelings behind and by that I mean Şah Sultan. Her love is in the past by the point she arrived in the castle and her love for Ibrahim is only used as a conflict between her and Hatice, which they get over relatively quick. Sisterly love and ambition are a much bigger priority of Şah's: she cared about Hatice past any resentment she may have harbored over the years and agreed to share her life with Lütfi for the advantage this may bring, even though she didn't love him at all. She divorced him only when he offended the pride of a woman and her own personal pride. Other than that, we indeed didn't have a female character in MC that puts her feelings behind in design as far as I recall, only ones that end up clinging to them completely like Nigar here or ones that let go of them eventually like Mahidevran. Characters that have this design by default are more present in MCK like Safiye, or Turhan, or especially Gülbahar, but as I've said many times, MCK is more ruthless, while MC is more about the personal feelings of the characters, hence every motivation they have is somehow tied to them.]

[forever-rogue]

Disappear Here - 1/4

A/N: So, I’ve decided to turn this into a little series because I have no sense of brevity, and why not? So here’s part 1, which I hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome! xx

Based on this blurb

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

ALTERNATIVE ENDING

SEQUEL

»»————-　♡　————-«« 

One Year Ago

You felt your eyes growing heavy as you tried  to follow along to the late night rerun of a telenovela that was currently playing on one of the local channels. It was the only thing that was illuminating the small living room, everything else was bathed in darkness, much like your heart at the moment. You’d been sitting there for some time, ever since you’d gotten home from the embassy, in a vain attempt to keep your mind occupied. If you tried to focus all your energy into trying to keep up with the rapid Spanish, maybe no dark thoughts would impede the light buzz that was flowing through your veins . 

The empty wine bottle on the coffee table was supposed to help aid in your plan to chase away all the negative thoughts there were creeping in at the idea of Javier still being gone. He was supposed to be back today, supposed to be back in the office along with Steve, but neither of them had returned. It had been nothing but radio silence from their end.

Instead, you’d spent the day performing all sorts of menial tasks around the office, waiting for either of your partners to bursting in through the door and announcing their triumphant return. 

But it never came. 

Instead you were only met with silence, the only sounds that met your ears were those of people passing by in the hallway and someone occasionally popping their head in to say hello. Your face lit up every time, thinking maybe you’d get a glimpse of Peña’s smirk or Murphy’s soft smile; instead it was just another coworker whose name you didn’t know, or care to know. 

By midday, you’d gotten the entire shared office space clean and organized, going so far as to even clean the dingy windows, and caught up on paperwork that you’d been avoiding for weeks. 

But even after all that, you still had time to spare.

When you couldn’t take the deafening silence any longer, you stormed out of the much too quiet office and stormed into Ambassador’s Noonan’s office, not even bothering to knock, only throwing the door open as you walked to the front of her desk. She barely lifted her eyes from the papers splayed across her desk as you stood in front her, your arms crossed definitely over your chest. 

“Agent L/N,” it was almost mocking, cold, and you could see she really wasn’t too keen on listening to any problem that you were about to present her with. There were days when you hated her, wishing you could jump over the desk dividing you and wringing sense into her; other days you were glad that she was around, knowing that no matter how harsh and stern she was, she had your backs...more or less.

“Murphy and Peña aren’t back yet,” you didn’t bother to waste time with formalities, deciding to lay the facts on her instead, “they were supposed to be back in the office today. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.”

“I’m well aware that they were supposed to be back,” she flicked her eyes up to meet yours for a moment before turning back to her papers, “and just what is the issue?”

“They’re missing!”

“No one is considered missing for at least forty-eight hours,” she explained as you openly groaned. You knew that. But they weren’t just any sort of civilians, they were DEA agents, and more importantly, your partners, your friends, “and they technically still have several hours left in the work day to return before the clock starts ticking.”

“You don’t understand -”

“No, you don’t understand, L/N,” she barked and slammed the papers down on her desk, causing you to jump back in surprise, “this is how things work sometimes. This is a dangerous field, there are risks involved and sometimes you just have to accept that. You have to be all in to do this job, and I expect that even a rookie such as yourself understands that.”

“I-...”

“I get you want to do the right thing and you’re concerned with the welfare of your partners, but you have to learn to get over these types of things,” you were rendered speechless, taking a step back at her harsh words. You knew this was a dangerous job, that going after Escobar was an almost certain deathwish, but you had still agreed to do it, and you still wanted to hold onto some sense of humanity, not just be a cold shell that went through the motions every day. Maybe that was the rookie part of you after all, “perhaps you’d do well to remember that Murphy and Peña are just your partners. Especially Peña; I am not immune to the rumors and follies that float around in this office. And if you can’t remember that, maybe you’d best start looking for another job.”

“With all due respect, Ambassador-”

“This conversation is over,” she didn’t bother to spare a final glance before gathering her papers back together, “come back and see me in a few days if they still aren’t back, and then we’ll take the next steps. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you struggled to hold back your tears, feeling them prick at the back of your eyes as you rushed out of her office. You knew she was right, at least to a certain extent, but it didn’t make your current predicament any easier. 

At this point you were sure that you couldn’t handle staying in the office any longer, so you grabbed your stuff and headed home, stopping by a corner market to pick up cheap wine to keep you company for the evening. It was better than being stuck all alone with only your thoughts after all; having flashes of Pena and Murphy somehow getting killed was starting to drive you crazy. 

But despite your best efforts, nothing held your attention for long, which was precisely why you had resorted to watching programs in Spanish, trying your best to follow along with what they were saying. Spanish wasn’t your strong suit, you’d grasped the basics and then some, all the slang and curses of course (the latter part mostly thanks to Javier), and could hold a conversation well enough, but it was nothing compared to Javier’s natural fluency. Even if you looked like you might somehow actually belong in Columbia, your accent and lack of comprehension gave you away every time, as you stared at the person with your big wide doe eyes (that little comment was courtesy of Murphy). Javier enjoyed teasing you about it every time. You didn’t mind.

You sighed to yourself as you realized that you might never see him again. Your last interaction with him had hardly been a proper goodbye

“I can’t believe you told that witch to keep me away from this,” you glared at Javier as he started to gather supplies, Murphy closely following behind him. When he didn’t respond, you just shoved his chest, which quickly got his attention. He easily captured your wrists in his large hands and gave you a stern look, “you’re an asshole, Javi. Even Carrillo thinks I can handle myself just find out in the field.”

“I don’t give a shit what Carrillo thinks,” his voice was low, signaling the end of conversation as he released you from his strong grip. You looked over at Murphy, who was busy intently pretending not to be listening to your exchange. He was going to be of no help to you.

“Well I do,” you were just trying to get a rouse out of him; if he wasn’t going to let you come, you might as well annoy him, “Carrillo is a better everything than you could ever wish to be.”

“You think so, huh?” you’d gotten under skin, you could immediately tell by the way the muscles in his shoulders tensed, and the almost growl he adopted. You put your hands on your hips, eyebrow raised as you just nodded at him, “listen here, kid. This is dangerous. You think you know what to expect out there, you think you know what’s it like out there? You haven’t even seen a dead body, have you? You really think you could go out there and handle that?”

“This is my job-”

“You’re still green,” he insisted, “and this is not the time or place for you to suddenly decide to be the hero. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you insisted, the way his voice had softened with his last words not lost on you, “I can handle myself.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he sighed heavily as he exchanged a look with Murphy, “you’re staying here and that is final. And if I hear even the slightest hint of you trying to weasel your way in from anyone else, I’ll have your ass on the first flight back to the States.”

“I’m insufferable?” you threw up your hands in exasperation at him. He was so thick skulled and stubborn sometimes, it drove you up the wall, “what about you, old man? Scared of what will happen if I get there and make you look bad?”

“I have it had it up to here-”

“Will the two of you just shut up already?” Murphy had finally had enough of the two bickering back and forth. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence by any means, no, the two of you were constantly up in arms. Sometimes it was over the who made the better shitty office coffee, his incessant chain smoking, your habit of wearing high heels, his use of informants. Everything. But the two of you were starting to get on his last nerve, which said enough considering that Murphy was a patient man.

“Steve-”

“Just stop arguing and fuck already,” he said and you immediately felt all the blood in your body flow to your face, sure you were just as flushed as you as deep red tomato. You didn’t dare look at Javier for fear of the expression on his face, “or do whatever you need to in order to stop getting at each other’s throats all the time. You’re worse than children.”

“Well, you’re both the worst,” it was the only thing retort you could come with after his little outburst. You kept your back turned to Javier as you stormed out of the storage locks without another word, “have fun or whatever. Don’t get shot, I guess.”

You cringed slightly at the memory, wishing it had gone slightly smoother than that. You seriously hoped that wasn’t the last interaction you’d have with either of them, especially Javier. You didn’t know what you would do if that was the last time you’d gotten to see him. 

But you pushed the memories to the back of your mind as you  felt the sweet lull of slumber finally start to win over, a loud, booming knock came at your door causing you to jump and almost fall off of the couch. You sighed heavily before collecting yourself and pausing to glance at the clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning - no one in their right mind should have been at your door. Your first thought was that it was someone coming after you, someone that had decided they had a vendetta against you, coming to make you pay for your sins. 

Instinctively, you moved to the kitchen and grabbed your gun, holding it in front of you as you headed towards the door, alarmed by another loud knock. Putting your hand on the knob, you swallowed the lump that had worked its way into your throat. You were suddenly wide awake as the adrenaline rushed through your veins. After mentally counting to five, you yanked the door open, gun cocked and aimed at whoever had decided to come after you, ready to pull the trigger and stand your ground. Maybe you were green, but you were confident in the fact that you could hold your own if you suddenly had to.

Instead of an enemy, you found yourself face to face with none other than Javier Peña.

“Javi,” his nickname rolled off your lips in a quiet whisper as you met his warm brown eyes, your own already stinging and on the verge of spilling over with tears. You felt like you could breathe again, waves of relief crashing down on you as you realized he was alive. But at a price. He looked tired, very tired, and worn out, his hair a mess and his clothes looking in need of a wash, much like the rest of his sweaty body. But he was alive, and that was the operative fact, and the only fact you cared about in that moment.

“Were you going to shoot me, kid?” he asked, his deep velvety voice reached your ears and causing your stomach to flutter slightly. He looked between you and your still outstretched hand before grabbing the gun, removing the cartridge of bullets, and tossing it to the side where it clanged to the ground with a loud metallic clang. He studied you silently, almost in a challenging way, trying to see which one of you would break down first. He was the one that had showed up on your doorstep after all.

But it wasn’t going to be you because you weren’t able to find any words. Instead you were frozen in time, your body humming with content as you realized that all of your worry had been for nothing. He was okay, he was alive, and he was currently mere inches away from you; you could feel his body heat radiating onto yours, his natural musk invading every bit of your senses. 

You had missed him more than you thought, for reasons that were known to you, but you would never speak out loud. You didn’t want to hear the words ever come out of your mouth because that would mean that they were true, that your feelings for Javi were more than just those of friends and partners. That your feelings were those that made it seem like he was the reason for all the glittering stars in the night sky, that he was your morning sunshine after a dark night of rain.

But Javier didn’t need you to say anything.

It all happened fast; so fast that you didn’t even have a chance to process what was going on before he put his hands on either side of your face and crashing his lips onto yours. It was needy, fast, bruising, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for. After reality hit you like a train,  you responded by throwing your arms around his neck, carding a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as  his rough hands found your waist, his fingers quickly finding their way under the hem of your shirt and brushing along the soft skin.

It was hard and fast, the two of you expressing your desires without the use of words, only pulling apart when you needed a breath of air. You looked up at him and found him staring back at you, his eyes expressing an emotion you couldn’t quite place. It was intense, frightening, and most of all hungry. He was the hunter and you were his prey. 

“Y/N,” Javi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he kissed you a few more times, eventually finding your jaw and working his way down your neck. It took everything in your power not to moan out loud at his touch, at the feel of his lips on your delicate flesh, and you bit your lip as you kept your arms around his neck. But before you could let it go any further, something snapped inside you and you came to your senses and put your hands on his chest, a silent plea for him to stop. As much as you wanted him to continue, to somehow have it end up in your bedroom, with you under him as he gave you what you had been desperately wanting, you knew you shouldn’t. He was your partner, your friend, and on top of all of that, he was older and he had a reputation. 

It was a reputation he had earned for a reason, and that was enough for you to stop whatever might transpire before it got any further. 

“Javi,” you said as he pulled back from you, looking at you with concern written all over his face. You shook your head and took a step back from him, already saddened by the loss of his body against yours, “we...we shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this.”

You pointed between your bodies, biting your lip in a way that drove him crazy, not that he would ever admit that, and sighed. Sometimes your rationalism got the best of you, and you wished you could just throw it out the window. How you wished you could just have him then and there, to feel him all over your body.

“Why?” he asked quietly as he put a hand on your cheek before ghosting his fingers over the contours of your face, and he wondered, momentarily, why he’d waited so long to touch your soft skin.  Part if you wished you had let him continue, but the rational part of your brain told you that you’d done the right thing, “I thought...we...that there was something there? Between us.”

“We can’t,” you just repeated softly, “we’re friends...partners...this can only end in two ways, and neither of them are good.”

“Give me a good reason. Just one good reason,” he insisted and you knew he had a valid point, but you also both knew what you were trying to say, “tell me you don’t want this. Tell me I’ve been wrong in thinking that there was something between us this whole time. Tell me I’m wrong. And if you don’t want this, it stops here and I’ll walk away.

You looked at him silently for a few moments, his eyes pleading with yours, rendering you  unable to form a coherent thought; you wanted to tell him that he was right, but all you could see was looming heartbreak on the horizon, and you weren’t about to willingly put yourself through torture for nothing. Not with him or anyone else. 

Every other relationship you had had blown up into a million pieces in front of your very eyes. You weren’t able to subject yourself to that again, no matter how much you longed for him, no matter how many nights you spent alone in bed, thinking of him, wishing he was there with you. You finally, painstakingly, met his eyes, giving him a small grimace before shrugging your shoulders, “I...I don’t want this.”

A lie. A bold lie you both could easily see through. 

“Okay,” he took a step back, shaking his head at you as he tried to keep himself in check. He wanted to yell, to scream, to cry, something - anything. But instead, he moved silently towards the door, stepping through it without so much as another look at you, slamming it shut behind him. You winced slightly at the loud sound before slumping back down onto the couch. You gave the wine bottle a pathetic look, wishing you had more so you could block the events that had just transpired. 

Either you had just made the wisest decision of all, or you had possibly made the biggest mistake. 

It was a fine line between the two. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[shadow-stars16]

The crows in school(modern)(Singaporean edition)

TW ⚠mentions of eating disorders

Kaz

Kaz dislikes the uniform strongly because he thinks he looks weird in it as the rest of his wardrobe is filled with Black colour clothes except his school uniform. Kaz is always judged by his classmates since he doesn't talks much except to Jesper some girls would even gossip about Kaz and how dangerous he is. Even though with all the gossiping and the dislike from his classmates his teachers were being unhelpful for telling Kaz to just talk to his classmates which doesn't works. Kaz also gets good grades in like every subject and would sometimes help Jesper by giving him to copy his homework only Jesper not other classmates because Jesper is his best friend and only friend. One day Kaz walked passed a group of girls gossiping about him and realised this are his classmates so he went up and asked whether there is any homework. Kaz knew that the girls were gossiping about him he pretends to not hear it and asked the girls if there was any homework. The girls were in shock and one of them replied"errrr.... I don't know ask the teacher I guess." Kaz just replied with alright and he walked away. Kaz also joins a CCA( co cirliculum activity) since it's compulsory so he joins the robotics club with Jesper. Kaz is also adopted by Jesper's parents but he didn't change his last name as Jesper's parents leave it up to him.

Jesper

Jesper is okay with the uniform he just doesn't likes the rule that specifies no jewelry. Jesper compared to Kaz was a litteral mess, his worksheets are all crumpled but in the end he miraculously still managed to pass for many subjects but he does especially well in math. Jesper is not interested in any CCA like litterally no, since CCA is compulsory he is just forced to join one and he joins concert band, he does not enjoy and even skips practices sometimes since his father forced him to join after a year he quits concert band to join robotics club with Kaz. Jesper also occasionally goes to the library to borrow some books to read to Wylan generally Jesper is a chaotic mess and he scores mostly B's. Jesper also takes D&T( design and technology) as one of his subjects, he likes D&T and always finishes his work faster than anyone in his class(usually a few lessons ahead of everyone) . Even though he can finish school work on his area of interest he struggles with other subjects and often seek help from Kaz or Wylan or he just doesn't cares at all. To be honest he just seeks help because he needs to move on to the next level or else he gets retained.

Inej

Inej is the girl who much prefer to wear PE(physical education) attire than uniform because the PE shorts are way more comfortable than the skirt. Inej scores well for all PE assessments like no shit she's even better than the guys. She is in volleyball as that's one of the only sports CCA girls can join. Inej likes to play volleyball but hates her CCA mates. Most students in volleyball are just the mean girl type and Inej hates them to the core. Inej is also a really polite student which makes her many teachers favorites which make her look stuck up. Since inej scores really well for PE and she cares about it, she is her PE's teacher favorite student. Since inej is also a minority in Singapore she oftenly get makes fun of because of her skin colour and she chooses to ignore it. Inej mostly gets a B4 or a B3 for every class. Inej also goes to other sports class outside school such as taekwondo( Korean martial arts which involves like self defence) (if there is any of y'all who know more about taekwondo even more than me feel free to correct if I'm wrong). Sometimes Inej secretly wished that she had a lighter skin tone so she wouldn't be made fun of.

Nina

Nina is a really loud and popular girl in school, she's okay with school uniform and doesn't bother too much about them either. Nina have a lot of friends and has a huge Instagram following, she doesn't has the best grades for school to be honest she always just gets a C5 or a B4 and tends to fail one or two subjects. Nina also tends to joke around with teachers which some of the teachers don't mind. Before she was this loud and popular girl in school, she suffered from body image issues and had an eating disorder because of bullying from her classmates,since now she's a little slimmer than before and also transfered school as her classmates from her previous school makes fun of her body. Nina does not really care about school she genuinely cares for her friends and spends time writing cards to her friends for maybe the start of school or end of school since she had so many friends. Even though Nina doesn't seem like she cares about school she does do her homework all the time and does pretty okay for test. Nina finds a special interest in biology though for some reason maybe because of her heart rendering powers, but Nina wants to be a social media influencer which kinda had nothing to do with school. As Nina's popularity grows people thought that Nina was mean when they first started befriending her but it is not she just has too many friends and hangs out oftenly with only a few friends. Nina's Instagram stories are all filled with memories of her going out with her friends and talking about mental health everytime she talks about mental health she looses a couple of friends even though she feels sad about it, she knows that they are not mean to be and they should go. The closest friends she kept by her side all supported everything she did and she returns the support to them too. Nina's CCA is concert band and she plays the trumpet she likes concert band as it is fun and enjoyable.

Matthias

Matthias does not feel anything about the school uniform. Matthias is mostly very loyal to his friends he isn't the super popular type of guys but he has a few friends and his life works out fine with them. One particular not so masculine trait about Matthias is he likes cooking but he doesn't lets others know since they might think that he's gay. He scores pretty much like an B3 to an A1 for any subject that he takes. Matthias is the type of guy who sticks to a routine like waking up earlier just to work out or go for a run at like 4am and sleeping at like 8pm. Matthias rarely post on Instagram most of his post were only just workout stuff or his pictures when he occasionally went out. Matthias does half his homework when he is eating breakfast the other half from the previous night. He doesn't enjoy waking up this early and wished school would start later but he knew working out in the morning is better than working out after school. Matthias is in NCC( national cadet cops) a uniform group CCA, Matthias is also really good at PE like Inej. A lot of teachers like him because he is very hard working and puts a lot of effort into his work. Matthias also takes F&N( food and nutrition) , he usually gets really good grades. He is partnered with Inej for F&N and they usually come out as one of the best in class, they are a really productive duo and they know how to complement each other as friends.

Wylan

Wylan looks really cute in school uniform for some reason every feature of his just complements the school uniform and Jesper compliment him about it everyday. Wylan is a very smart person he gets like A2 or A1 for basically every subject and particularly excels in music he usually gets near to full marks for every music test and he is very happy about that even though his father is not the most happy about that since he should be scoring as well for his other subjects so he can inherit his wealth. Jesper and Wylan hangs out all the time in school they usually hang out at Jesper's house after school and he helps Jesper with his homework. Sometimes during the school holidays Wylan would come over for a sleep over and Jesper, Kaz and Wylan would just talk forever. Kaz can talk to Wylan about architecture building and how much is some art piece worth and they all chat happily together. Ones they decided they are going to go to bed, Jesper takes out Wylan's favorite book and reads it to him until he falls asleep. Wylan finds Jesper's voice mesmerising and could call asleep just by Jesper reading stories to him.

[inmyarmswrappedin]

What do you feel about Kieu My actress' acting skills. I cannot decide weather it's her or the direction and writing that didn't do their best to extract a good performance from her overall. I did like her when she showed sad emotions though, but for the ice-queen or infatuated-with-Fatou part she simply wasn't convincing for me.

Fatou's actress is actually so good, I have a certain amount of anger towards the makers of s6 for not doing justice to her. Introverts and chilled out people can have intense moments that are in line with their personality (Matteo comes to mind, but that's mostly down to Michi's incredible screen presence.) I really liked that she was already out and her sexuality wasn't even that much of a topic, but overall the pacing and the pov were not very strong. The aspects where she felt dumb and was hard on herself were tugging at my heartstrings, but I like that they didn't completely tear her down and left her with some agency, I just wish it was clear on screen and not just in my mind. The Ava and Mailin story could've been left to Ava's season or done in a way where it doesn't overshadow Fatou. Or maybe it never did actually, but it was so widely discussed in fandom that it distracted us from the nothingness of the Fatou pov. I don't know I love the new gen, but they done fucked up with s6....

Also, I hear that they cut a lot of scenes... It was probably because even they couldn't make any sense of their own pacing and add to that some poor acting and directing choices that rendered those scenes unwatchable.

Hi anon! 👜 There’s a lot going on in your ask (which I love, I appreciate you guys sharing your thoughts), so I’m going to try and tackle each thing bit by bit.

1. Nhungi’s acting skills: It’s hard for me to judge acting in a language I’m not fluent in, unless I have another performance to compare it to (like for instance Axel Auriant and Philippine Stindel destroyed everything Tarjei Sandvik Moe and Lisa Teige did in s1) or it’s so bad that it transcends language, like so much of wtfock. Nhungi originated her role and I honestly think she did a fine job (but I find Sira to be superior personally). I felt like she nailed everything Kieu My was supposed to convey in every scene, and she added small, hard to notice tics like rubbing her fingers together, that were cool to catch on rewatch and realize there was more all along to her apparent ice queen persona. It’s that kind of small acting choices that make it so gratifying to rewatch a good Skam season.

2. I think it would be interesting to rewatch Fatou’s season without all the sm (I haven’t done that yet), because I didn’t think the pov wasn’t tight. Like, there was maybe one scene where I felt like Fatou was more of an observer than participant in the storyline, and that was the clip where Mailin apologizes to Ava (and Fatou). I think that clip could’ve worked a lot better if they made a stronger connection between Karin firing Fatou because she thought Fatou was a thief (rather than having dyscalculia) and Mailin becoming aware of that. I think that the pov maybe doesn’t feel as tight because there were many other storylines taking place over sm that grabbed our attention, which is why I think I want to binge the season and see. I do think the pacing in Druck could definitely be improved (their Friday clips can flop super hard), but that’s not exclusive to this season, I felt the same about some Friday clips in s5. 

3. I didn’t think the Ava/Mailin storyline overshadowed Fatou’s, but I do come from Skam España where every season had subplots having to do with the other girls. I remember that during Cris’ season, people were really mad because they felt like Nora and Alejandro were taking over the season in the way Noora and William did in Sana’s season in Skam. I think that Nora and Alejandro’s storyline in s2 had little to nothing to do with Cris’ storyline, and even in parts we stepped out of Cris’ POV to get some pomenora moments. Anyway, I think part of this idea comes from the fact that Isak’s season in Skam had a very tight POV because Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi were props to Isak’s story more than actual characters, the Magnus and Vilde stuff was really very minimal, and Julie Andem managed to make all of Noora’s woes relate to what Isak was going through. Whereas Nora, Ava and Mailin aren’t props, they are all mains or potential mains with their own storylines. (Just like Eva, Viri, Nora and Amira did in Cris’ season.) Anyway, I do think the Ava/Mailin storyline could’ve connected more explicitly to Fatou’s struggles at work, and I feel like maybe that would’ve alleviated some of the complaints. But I absolutely do not feel that storyline should’ve been saved for Ava’s season because that’s nonsensical. As a black lesbian, racism is as important a topic for Fatou as it is for Ava. And like, no one is arguing that Kieu My/Fatou shouldn’t have been set up in s5, and their story has even less to do with Nora’s struggles.

4. Jasmina Wesolowski’s messages re: the reasons why they cut a lot of scenes, have for me less to do with pacing reasons, and more to do with budget reasons. While ARD/ZDF/Funk has time and again acquiesced to the team’s suggestions, like when they pushed for David to be trans, and I imagine a lot of the decisions they made with new gen, it also feels like they’re less supportive financially when the stories cater to more “niche” populations (which is how they referred to David being trans). I think this is the reason some seasons are longer than others tbh. The budget isn’t there for certain seasons. I also completely understand why the team would want to push s5 and s6 out in short order, so they’d have more time to regroup, incorporate feedback and potentially have time for more than 2 additional seasons after renewal. But I can believe that the actors were tired because it’s the first acting job for most, and they didn’t have that much of a break in between. I would hope that, if and when they are renewed, there’s a bit of a longer break between seasons, so everyone is on top form for every subsequent season, and they don’t have to cut scenes for lack of money or time. 

[poeedamerons]

contigo aquí (como un perro fiel)

Read it on A03 

Carlos couldn’t blame anyone but himself for his current predicament. TK was beyond clear when they met - and on later dates - that he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He was looking for something casual: an outlet of all his anxiety, a distraction from the chaos inside his mind and heart. It hurt Carlos to be just a warm body, another notch on his bedpost and to know that what they share is just one of the many things TK does to feel something other than numb.

He thinks about the night he processed TK down at the station and his stomach churns at the thought that the fight might have got the other man closer to his goal than any moment they ever shared together.

TK’s a hurricane and Carlos never stood a chance. No matter how many times people warned him, hell, he even tried to stay away outside work calls, but TK's pull is stronger than any man he’s ever met.

Carlos stupid heart couldn’t help but fall for those puppy green eyes and boyish charm. He was truly a goner the moment he first saw TK on that fateful call. TK’s eyes had sparkled under the moonlight like glistening emeralds and his self satisfied grin was blinding, capable of lighting up the darkness. He was the most beautiful, wild thing Carlos has ever seen.

That night Carlos wished nothing more than to have that man look at him like that someday, but as things stood, the world had other plans for Carlos Reyes and TK Strand so he told himself he could bury his feelings and keep their friends with benefits arrangement going, because half TK was better than no TK at all and Carlos can't’ help but hold onto the hope that maybe the handsome firefighter would change his mind at some point and would see how perfect they are for each other and take on Carlos’ earlier date invitations.

Carlos of course knew better than to scare TK or make him feel pressured. Carlos isn’t like that, but with TK’s bad breakup, substance abuse history and his father’s cancer he knows he needs to be extra careful. Luckily to him, patience is one of his virtues and TK is worthy of all gentle care on this earth and Carlos is more than happy to become the firefighter's safe haven.

They’ve come a long way into their arrangement, but they are still nowhere near where Carlos wants them to truly be.

He sometimes allows his mind to trick itself into believing they are together, that all the times they meet up to go clubbing or to eat are dates between boyfriends, and not TK’s carefree way to be now that his life seemed to be stable enough. He even likes to think he helped TK reach that level of balance, but he knows he is kept at arm's length no matter how much he longs for the intimacy of a relationship and to be able to kiss his green eyed lover senseless whenever he feels like it.

But Carlos lives for those tiny moments where he can let go and be the lovesick fool he turned himself into. When TK smiles brightly at him before bumping their noses together, when they tease each other in and outside the bedroom, when they spend hours talking just about anything and nothing. In these moments everything else ceases to exist and TK is his whole world.

He knows how self destructive this is and he hates that he’s allowing himself to become this way, to get himself stuck into a relationship that is going nowhere but he really cannot put into words how easy it was to fall in love for TK. The other man had no idea the effect he could have on people, the effect he had on him. If this is what drug addicts felt, Carlos had a new level of empathy because he couldn’t help but come back for more.

He’s in deep, so deep Michelle started worrying he might be drowning. And the thing is, after a year, Carlos has to admit that he is. He is drowning in this mess and he can’t help but feel utterly defeated. He knows he isn’t perfect and can make a list of his flaws, but he knows he is a good looking guy, has a controversial but very community centered job that pays his bills and allows him to have a nice place and car and he is also pretty charming, if he can say so.

He’s been told many times he is made of boyfriend material, and while he never allowed that to get to his head...it seems that he either wasn’t the kind of boyfriend material TK was looking for or TK wasn’t really looking for one at all, and Carlos had to face the facts that he is either going to keep drowning until he spins out of control or he call it quits and focus on healing his heart.

The idea of ending them is like a gut punch for so many reasons, because it would mean to admit that TK has always been so close, but always so far out of his reach and nothing he did ever really changed that. He just sent himself deeper and deeper into heart break.

It’s a tough call, but one he has to make. Carlos takes a deep, sobering breath and sends TK a quick message asking if he is doing anything after his shift today. He presses send before he can chicken out and sets it on his table, trying to contain the anxiety that comes with waiting for an answer.

Sometimes he gets quick replies, sometimes it takes hours. Carlos at least knows it’s not because TK is ignoring him but because he might be on a call and too busy to check his messages. His phone vibrates with an incoming text message and it’s TK answering him back.

I’m free, wanna meet up?

Yes. Carlos texts back. Can we meet at the coffee shop by the fire station?

He thinks it's better to choose a public space, somewhere where they could talk somewhat privately, but where TK wouldn’t feel trapped.

Sure, see you there.

Now, all Carlos has to do is survive the excruciating hours until the end of both of their shifts and get this over with. He knew he was doing the right thing, even if his heart would break into a million pieces while doing it.

-----------

Carlos has to be honest, he had no idea what TK’s reaction would be, but he really wasn’t expecting TK to freeze across from him when he finally finishes his speech, one that he spent the rest of his shift carefully crafting and rendered him absolutely useless for any work.

Uneasiness fills the pit of his stomach and he can hear the hammering of his beating heart, like it wants to break free from it’s cage, but Carlos waits for TK to speak up first. The silence that fills their table isn’t an awkward one because Carlos knows TK and he knows the other man sometimes just needs a few minutes to process things and react. He is aware that this is something T.K worked hard on with his therapist, a method to keep himself from relapsing and Carlos not only respects that, but is supportive of TK’s efforts and needs.

“Is it something I did?” TK asks, his brows furrowing like he was presented with a really hard puzzle.

Carlos is caught off guard with the question. “TK,” he exhales, struggling to get the right words out. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” it was more of what T.K did not do or is unwilling to do. Still, he leans in the table, his fingers gripping his coffee cup for dear life.

TK’s green eyes were focused on him and Carlos has to fight the shiver that wants to run up his spine.

“I just…” am helplessly in love with you and I can’t bear it any longer that you don’t want me back his traitorous mind completes, but Carlos knows he just can’t impose his unrequited feelings on TK anymore but he really couldn’t find a legitimate reason for it. “Don’t want to do this anymore. I’m sorry,” Carlos swallows the lump on his throat. He breaks his gaze from TK’s for a sobering breath. His chest feels tight and he can feel blood rushing through his veins. “I just wanted to tell you in person and make sure we are good,” Carlos gathers the courage to look at TK and commit his angelic face to memory.

There is slight crease on TK’s brows, but he remains quiet, as if waiting for Carlos to go on.

He wet his lips. “We will still see each other on a regular basis because of work and I didn’t want things to be weird. We have a lot of people counting on us.”

“Oh…” He hears TK’s gasp. “If that’s what you want, I guess all I have to say is…. Thank you?” Carlos has no idea what to say to that, he is even more confused on why TK’s eyes look a little hurt and bewildered, but his face and voice don’t betray much.

“So, we’re good?” He asks, clearing his voice.

“Yeah,” TK’s answers back after a few moments of silence. “We’re good”. Looking at the man across from him, Carlos catches a glimpse of a smile on TK’s pink lips as he speaks. It feels like a twisting knife to his heart.

“Good,” Carlos is fighting the tears that are threatening to spill, getting up from his seat. “I have to go, I promised Michelle I would help her go through some stuff on her sister’s case.” He gives TK what he hopes is a smile, but he is sure it’s closer to a grimace. Honestly, he couldn’t care less, he just needs to leave . “See you around?” He asks over his shoulder, in a last attempt at looking composed.

“Of course, Officer,” TK answers, throwing him one of his boyish, signature winks.

Carlos sobs all the way home.

-----------

He avoids any contact with the 126 for at least a week, which is nothing short of a miracle considering how much their paths cross during calls, but somehow Carlos manages to go an entire week without crossing paths with a single member of the AFD, without it looking like it was intentional.

While a week is not long enough to lick his wounds and start picking up the pieces of his heart, it's a start . It's more than he could possibly have managed on his own and there was no way he was going to jeopardize his job just because of a boy, even if said boy is probably the love of his life.

Michelle had been acting as his emotional crutch and Carlos couldn’t be more thankful for her friendship, but the void TK left in his life was not one that was going to be easily filled or forgotten. But it was nice to have someone taking care of him like that.

It’s not like Carlos isn’t expecting for them to meet on a call, he is, but he isn’t as ready as he believed himself to be. Watching TK in all his fireman glory, removing his helmet as his hair is blown by the wind and his eyes glint with excitement is harder than he ever anticipated. His heart tugs, his feelings for TK unchanged since their last meeting.

When their eyes meet, Carlos is ready for the awkwardness that follows, but it never comes. TK acts like his normal self and while it hurts, it’s clear that Carlos is the only one with his heart on the line. He is at least comforted by the fact that he made the right decision and should focus on forgetting TK Strand forever.

-----------

Carlos has no idea how he got dragged in this group date thing in this day and age, but there he was, at their regular bar, surrounded by coworkers and Sarah’s brother in law Michael. Sarah has tried setting them up before, but Carlos has always brushed off because of TK, but finally gave in.

Michael turns out to be pretty dreamy. He is good looking, has a nice 9 to 5, non-life threatening job and is very fun to be around. Carlos finds himself bent over in laughter several times during the night and is enjoying himself. He even allows his mind to wonder if this could be the guy that would finally take his heart and soul away from TK.

The sound of raucous laughter attracts Carlos gaze and he freezes as if a bucket of ice had been thrown over his head, because he caught sight of Mateo and Marjan and knows it is a matter of seconds before TK follows suit.

It's been four months, but seeing TK is never easy for him. Especially today, when he is - for the first time in months - on a date with a man he is currently hoping that might be just the cure he needs for TK Strand.

“Is everything okay?” Michael asks worried.

“Yes,” Carlos answers back, turning his gaze back to the man in front of him. “I just kind of lost myself with the noise.” He jokes, hoping to brush it off as distraction. The smile Michael gives him back shows him he was successful.

-----------

Carlos has no idea how the fight started. One minute he was line dancing with Michael, rolling with laughter. The next there’s people screaming, Michael on the ground and TK looking pretty angry with bruised fingers.

A crowd filled with angry voices closes them in and Carlos starts to worry that an even bigger fight between first responders might break out if this situation isn’t controlled. He makes his way to Michael, helping him up as the blond man holds onto his bleeding nose in a lousy attempt to stem it, thankfully Michelle is right behind him, ready to take charge of the situation.

He helps Michael sit on a chair and allows Michelle to do her thing. Asking the other man if he is alright is pointless, after all he just got punched on the nose, but he squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“I will check out if everyone is okay,” He absolutely lies to Michelle and his date, which is something he hates but he really needs to see if TK’s is alright and he isn’t about to tell them that. “I will be right back.” He releases the man's shoulders and receives a quick nod from Michael, and Michelle is too busy looking his date over to catch him on his lie.

He scans the sea of people inside the bar and TK is nowhere to be found. He sees some members of the 126, but decides against asking them where or even what happened. At least not yet. He doesn’t think he can process that at the moment. He chooses to make it through the crowd and towards the door, hoping TK might have run outside.

The cold night air hits Carlos in the face but all he can think about is finding where TK is. He scans the parking lot and his eyes zero on TK’s silhouette huching against Captain Strand’s car, grumbling what Carlos thinks is a string of curses. He almost smiles at the sight.

He makes his way to the other man, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey,” He calls out as he gets closer, alerting TK of his arrival and before he can get closer, TK starts to walk away. Carlos furrows his brow and lets out a sigh. So this is how’s going to be, huh? “TK,” He calls again, this time walking faster to catch up to him. “TK, wait up!” Really? They were going to play this game? Because Carlos was beyond tired of playing games and before TK could make a run Carlos wraps his fingers around TK’s arms. His grip firm enough to make TK pause, but not enough to hurt the other man or even trap him.

“What?” T.K’s snarls and Carlos is taken back by his tone, releasing his grip in shock. He has never seen or even heard TK sound like that and he is momentarily lost for words. He has seen TK after a fight and knows how the other man gets moody, but he can’t comprehend what motivated TK this time. He dreads even thinking TK might be relapsing.

“What do you mean with ‘what’, TK?” His voice is tight and for the first time in his life, his patience with the other man is running thin. “You punched Michael completely unprovoked. What the hell was that?” His piercing glance was trained in TK, but only when the other man raises his hands to his hair he remembers the bruised knuckles. “And you,” He huffs, annoyed. “Didn’t even get your hands looked at. How do you think it’s going to be tomorrow when you have to work?” God he was really annoyed at how TK could be so reckless with his health.

“Why do you care?” TK starts, with thinly veiled sarcasm. TK’s green eyes meet Carlos brown eyes with renewed anger. “Shouldn’t you be with - what’s his name again?” TK snorts sarcastically and Carlos could see him pretending to think it over. “Whatever is his name. Your new boytoy. Why don’t you go back to him and leave me alone?” TK expression turned sour, voice laced with poison.

Carlos sure as hell never seen TK acting like this, but he is not going to back down now. He can’t allow TK to go on like this.

“TK - fuck ,” His voice wavered. “You just can’t go around punching people, what’s gotten into you?” h e jabs his finger into TK’s chest. “I just… I can’t…” He runs his fingers through his hair as frustration settles in. “You make no sense. I don’t understand you at all. You are acting like a jealous boyfriend or somethi-” and it hits him, like a wave during a storm, unexpectedly but with such turbulent force that Carlos almost loses his footing.

TK was jealous. TK was jealous of him and Michael at the bar. That is why he picked the fight. Why he punched Michael. And unquestionably the reason why he was acting like a petty child during this whole conversation. The realization is staggering and Carlos for a moment feels like everything around him is in slow motion and the sounds of passing by cars seems like miles away.

“Are you jealous?” Carlos asks dumbfounded, because he needs to hear it from TK’s lips to believe it, even if all the clues lead to only one possible answer.

The guilty look on TK’s face and how his shoulders hunch tell Carlos that he is indeed right and Carlos hearts leaps with hope, set aflame by the possibility that TK might have feelings for him, like he always dreamed.

“TK,” He calls, this time his voice is soft and cajoling. He gets closer to the other man, his fingers trailing down TK’s arm to intertwine their fingers.

“I’m not jealous,” TK’s answer with a whisper and Carlos has to bite back a smile.

“Oh, so you punched a civilian just because you felt like it?” He asked, amused. No one could blame Carlos for enjoying this situation, okay? “I’m waiting, TK.”

Carlos can see him chewing on his lip before sighing, staring at the ground as if he had been defeated. “Fine, I’m jealous, okay?” TK continues as though on a roll, chuckling bitterly. “And today was karma, wasn't it? I’m being punished for pushing away the best thing that ever happened to me because I'm a coward.” He swallows.

“TK-”

“I was blind-sided. When you broke up with me. I didn’t see it coming. I just… hated losing you. I thought that I couldn’t have any serious relationship after everything that happened back in NY, but that wasn’t true. Because there was you, Carlos. You just showed up right on day one, swept me off my feet and -” he says, swallowing a painful lump. “Was just perfect. Everything I ever wanted. And then I lost you. And I didn’t know how to get you back because you ended things and I thought… I thought you just didn’t want me anymore. I was hurt, because I love you so much it hurts, Carlos” TK licks his lips. “And today you were with him, moving on and I just couldn’t - I just saw how happy you two were and I just saw red. So yeah, I’m jealous. Happy? Now go back inside to your date.” TK’s admits, looking a bit pained.

Carlos head is swimming with TK’s admission, so many feelings and so much information to process, everything is crowding together, screaming and jostling for attention that he feels once again in the night paralysed. But in the back of his brain he has the power to squeeze T.K’s hand in reassurance and leans in so their foreheads are touching. He can feel TK’s labored breath on his cheeks.

He could scream with happiness because TK laid his heart bare and is in love with him.

“TK,” he starts, his voice surprisingly firm for how vulnerable he is feeling himself right now. He refuses to move from their position and can sense TK stiffen, nerving himself for a rejection. “You are such an idiot,” He starts and can feel TK pulling back, but he stands his ground. “How can you think I have been anything but crazy for you since the day we met?” He smiles against TK’s nose. “I have been in love with you for months. The only reason I ended things with you is because I couldn’t keep it casual anymore. I want you all to myself.”

And then TK is all around him and his mouth is hot and surprisingly soft, dragging over Carlos’s lips again and again until Carlos can’t help but moan loudly, his mouth fall open for TK’s onslaught. He presses Carlos body forward against a nearby truck and TK’s fingers slide up Carlos back, touching him under his green henley.

“TK, I, fuck,” TK moans and the sound goes straight to Carlos dick, making his blood fizz wildly inside him. “Okay,” He pushes the other man. “We need to stop.” TK whines and Carlos chuckles.

“I know, cariño.” Carlos fingers touch the side of TK’s cheek. “But we need to get back inside, let Michelle take a look at your hand and then I am going to take you back to my place and have my dirty way with you.” He bites TK’s earlobe before pulling away, laughing at his expression.

“Must we?” TK asks, pouting his lips, hoping that would weaken Carlos resolve.

“Yes,” Carlos answers leaning in for a quick peck in the lips and pulls TK by the hand towards the bar entrance.

“Already boyfriending me, hun?” TK teases, eyes lit with joy.

“Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. I’m going to take care of you so hard, cariño.” A broad grin spread across Carlos' face, but his eyes soft.

TK smiles brightly. “Can’t wait.”

[authenticcadence18]

“Do You Trust Me?” Love Square Fluff Week 2020 Day 2: Trust

Remember that scene in Aladdin in which Aladdin asks Jasmine “Do you trust me??” and she’s like “...yes?” 

I really love that scene ;)

AO3

-

“Chat Noir!!!! I have a plan to get us out of here!!!! Give me your baton, I need it to jump off the roof!!”

Chat blinked at Marinette, momentarily snapped out of his akuma-induced adrenaline high.

“I’m sorry, WHAT??”

...how exactly had they ended up here again?

One minute, he was cataclysming a bookshelf seconds before it crushed Marinette and whisking her off to find a safe spot, and the next, they were both stuck on the roof of Françoise Dupont...literally, in Chat’s case. Before leaving them to go hunt Ladybug, the akuma, Adhesiviser, had fired a sticky substance at Chat’s feet, gluing him to the roof and leaving him with a blinking ring inching dangerously close to expiration.

Sure, his identity was about to be revealed, Ladybug was nowhere to be found, and Marinette was clearly starting to go insane due to the pressure they were under but...he’d gotten out of stickier situations before...right?

“We don’t have time to debate this!!!!” Marinette stomped over to him from her position on the edge of the roof of the school. “The akuma glued all the doors shut and you’re stuck, so we can’t get down!!! If you detransform up here, someone is sure to see you and your secret identity will be exposed!!!! This is the only way, just give me your staff!!”

“But--” Chat’s brain rushed to catch up to her words. “But, but what if the akuma comes back?? I need my staff to protect us!!!

“And..and...and you don’t have any superpowers!!! You could get hurt!!! I...I couldn’t bear to watch you get hurt on my account again….let’s just wait for Ladybug, she has to get here soon…..”  He flinched, painful memories of a certain brunch echoing in his head.

“I’ll be fine, Chat Noir,” Marinette assured him before stepping up and extending an arm to him. “Do you trust me??”

A moment lingered between them.

“....what?”

“I said, do you trust me??”

Something stirred in Chat Noir’s gut.

There was something about Marinette at that moment.

Maybe the determined glint in her eyes.

Maybe the utmost confidence etched in her brow.

Maybe the way she was so desperate to protect him, even without a Miraculous.

“...of course I do.”

Eyes wide, Chat relinquished his baton to Marinette. Without wasting a second, she ran to the edge of the roof, extended the baton to reach the ground, and vaulted across the street. She landed--a bit clumsily, but she landed!--on the roof of the building opposite Françoise Dupont and condensed Chat’s weapon.

“Now grab onto the staff when it reaches you and hang on tight!!!!”

Marinette extended the staff again, this time across the rooftops and directly to Chat. Chat gripped it tightly--and then he was flying across the street and landing in a leap next to her.

Marinette offered her partner a hand and helped him stand, grinning proudly. “I had a feeling the force of the stick pulling you from so far away would be enough to get you un-stuck!!”

“Wow, Marinette….that was beyond awesome!!!” Chat exclaimed. “You could give Ladybug a run for her money!” He paused, pondering for a second, before adding “Well, I guess you technically already have….” with a conspiratorial wink.

Marinette’s balance faltered. “W-what?”

And then Chat’s face brightened. “As Multimouse!!! You were so amazing when we fought Kwamibuster!!”

Marinette exhaled. “Ahh, right. Multimouse.”

“You know, maybe Ladybug COULD reinstate you as a miraculous holder….it’s not as if anyone else knows your secret identity...it would be safe with me! Once I tell her about today, she won’t be able to refuse!!”

Though his words warmed her heart, Marinette knew Multimouse had to remain retired for the time being. But she didn’t have to worry about reinforcing that. At least not in her civilian form, anyway. Ladybug, on the other hand, might have her work cut out for her…

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see!” she replied with a shrug.

“Well, either way, you’re AMAZING, Marinette!” Chat grinned, making a dramatic show of bowing before her to express his admiration. As he came up from the bow, something shifted in his expression.

“...sometimes I wish I could tell you my secret identity….” he mused, almost to himself.

Marinette blanched, as did Chat one he realized what he’d said.

“Uhm! That is! So we could hang out and be friends outside our masks! I don’t think you’ve ever met me outside of the mask, and it would be fun to get to know you better. Yup.”

If she’d been wearing her spots, Marinette would have pointed out that Chat was a terrible liar…..but she herself didn’t want to think too hard about his previous statement. “I think you have a kwami to recharge and an akuma to fight,” she reminded him.

“The akuma! Right!” Chat scanned the horizon before discovering his target in the distance. “Thanks again for your help, Marinette!

“It’s good to know Ladybug and I have civilians we can trust!”

And with a salute and a wink, he was off to shove cheese in Plagg’s mouth.

By the time Chat re-emerged in the battle, Ladybug was already there. He beamed, eager to brag about the cleverness of his own “Everyday Ladybug."

...

Adrien….was not having the best day. Pre-recorded piano music flitted about the room as he sat slumped at his desk, too downtrodden to practice piano but too burned out from his father and Nathalie’s scolding to risk not upholding the illusion of said practice. Plagg had tried cheering him up with jokes, but his kwami’s antics weren’t enough to lighten Adrien’s mood tonight. Not even going out as Chat Noir sounded enticing.

He’d barely spoken two words to his father all week.

Nathalie had snapped at him for getting home from school late yesterday.

Nino had been absent from school for the past two days with the flu.

And he hadn’t seen Ladybug since their fight with Adhesiviser last week.

...the memory of Marinette boldly grabbing his staff and effortlessly saving him teased a smile from Adrien’s mouth. At least SHE was always there to light up his days, whether it be with a bashful smile, a bout of clumsiness, or a flurry of inspired creativity.

But then the frown returned...because as amazing as Marinette was, he didn’t want to burden her with any of the sadness weighing down on him…he was still lonely.

Adrien was jolted out of his gloomy haze by a faint tapping on his window.

He whirled around in his desk chair...and was quickly grateful to be sitting down because he probably would’ve fallen over, had he been standing up.

Ladybug hovered outside his window, held taut by her yo-yo string. She waved with a timid grin.

Adrien practically flew to his window and tore it open. He hoped Plagg had the sense to hide because that was the last thing on his mind right now.

“Ladybug!!!!!” he gasped as she perched on his windowsill. “What--how--what are you doing here?? Is everything alright??”

Had Adrien been so busy moping that he missed an akuma attack?

Did his hair look alright??

Had he cleaned the dirty laundry he’d tossed on the floor this morning???

Ladybug smiled softly. “I should be asking YOU that question,” she replied.

“I, uh...that is...a little ladybug told me you’d been having a bit of a rough week.”

Adrien flushed crimson. Had his bad mood been so apparent that even LADYBUG picked up on it somehow??

“Uh, well, uh...I’ve just been busy and stuff….but nothing too bad, really…”

Oh shoot.

Ladybug totally didn’t believe him. She was gazing at him with that LOOK. The look she gave Chat Noir whenever he alluded to his own struggles, the look she gave hapless akuma victims who’d been hurt and truly didn’t know any better.

She KNEW he was in pain. And for some reason, sharing that burden with her, even just the slightest bit of it, made Adrien feel almost weightless.

Ladybug cocked her head at him, pursing her lips and pondering, “Hmm...you’re just super busy and don’t need cheering up? That’s a shame. I was hoping you’d maybe have time to...go explore Paris with me? You know, fly around, feel the wind in your hair, that sort of thing?”

Adrien’s heart practically leapt out of his chest.

Ladybug wanted to take ADRIEN around Paris???

He was speechless.

Beyond speechless.

He couldn’t even breathe.

Ladybug took his lack of coherent speech as hesitation. “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you…” she teased with a gentle giggle. “Come on, Adrien.”

She gingerly extended an outstretched palm towards him.

“...do you trust me?”

If Ladybug’s earlier invitation rendered him incapable of breath, this question practically knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“....what?”

Ladybug shifted her weight, the faintest hint of pink glowing beneath her mask.

“I said...do you trust me?”

Adrien was falling, falling, falling.

And suddenly, he was back on a rooftop wearing a mask and gazing down at Marinette.

Marinette, who was so brave.

Marinette, who was so clever.

Marinette, who was always there for him.

Marinette, who’d extended her hand and asked for his trust.

Adrien’s eyes widened.

And then he was staring up at Ladybug again, reverently, feeling as if he was seeing her, TRULY seeing her, for the first time.

“....of course I do…..” he whispered.

...

A CONTINUATION OF THIS FIC WILL BE POSTED LATER THIS WEEK!!!!!

...can you guess which day of Love Square Fluff Week Part 2 will coincide with?

Thanks so much for reading!!!!! 

@lovesquarefluffweek

[themidnightfarmer]

Bringing in some colour || Morgan & Jared

Timing: Present

Location: Jareds greenhouse

Tagging: @mor-beck-more-problems & @themidnightfarmer

Description: Morgan and Jared do some mosaic for the greenhouse, and talk.

Triggers: none i think?

“Thank you for letting me help you with this. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been able to do something nice with my hands. Or, nice and productive anyway,” Morgan said, her joke laughing behind her eyes. She spread the green glass panes around Jared’s kitchen table so they looked like a sharp-edged rendering of the sea. One by one she picked them up, careful not to let the panes trickle through her fingers or snap under her thumb. She pressed them into the window frame until she heard their quiet sigh of connection and sealed them in safe with a few dabs of her puddy knife. “Who’s the one who taught you how to do all this stuff anyway?” She asked. “Seems like a big job for one fae all on his own.”

Jared blinked over at Morgan owlishly before he caught on to her meaning. He snorted and was eternally grateful that his glamour covered any heat that might take over his cheeks in a blush. “Oh wow. Love isn’t dead I suppose.” he commented lightly with a small laugh. The variety of colours spread out across the only free bench in the greenhouse sparkled in the midday sunlight and he smiled as Morgan fit a full pane of their work into the frame ready to go up. “Google, google and youtube are wonderful teachers Mogan, and tuition fees are close to zero.” Jared joked. “But the farm stuff, I was born in town, this farm has been my family's farm since 3 years before that even. I grew up fixing stuff that broke and managing animals...although my idea of good cattle and my human families? Not quite the same.”

“You might even say it’s un-dead,” Morgan smirked, maybe too pleased with herself. “Romance everlasting.” She reached for one of the smaller pieces and fit it into the grid, trying to see it up close and far away at once. So many little pieces, amplified to so much more beauty by being brought together. “And that is seriously impressive. I mean, I did a lot of that too when I was hustling through the day back in Texas, but it was hard. And I wasn’t very good at it either. I need that personal touch, you know?” She smiled over at him again. “And I still think what you’re doing is more than worth being proud of. I’m not sure who else would even know how to take care of your critters like you do.” A thought came to her then, less bright than her last. “How...how was it in there, at the ring, with their animals? Do you know where any of them ran off to?”

“I find youtube a lot easier than being taught something. School was never my thing so I struggle to learn through being told. But everyone has it different. What were you trying to learn while you were ‘hustling’ in texas?” Jared asked curiously, his own fingers moving over the glass pieces to select one for the mosaic they were constructing. A few of the panes had fallen in on his greenhouse recently. And Jared had decided he wanted something to make him smile, and a little bit of colour would do wonders he was sure. The compliment took the sting out of bringing up the whole situation at the ring, but that didn’t mean the reminder didn’t sting a little anyway. “It wasn’t...very good in there. I tried to keep my focus, but there was a lot going on with everything. Being realistic isn’t easy sometimes. I just wish I could have done something for them all. But that’s not...you know realistic. I don’t blame anyone for protecting themselves, I...do blame the people who took the poor things captive. They deserved whatever they got.” He shot Morgan an uncomfortable look. “Not a popular opinion that one. By human standards I’m supposed to put ‘people’ first.”

“I was mostly learning to take care of myself online and from handbooks.” Morgan said. “But can I ask why? About school? I don’t mean like--I’ve become well aware how the common school systems and classroom set ups in this country underserve and in some cases sabotage growth in some students. I’m always up for finding new ways to accommodate and help my students and, well, you can’t help but think about it when you learn how many species there are and how many of us don’t get a handbook or a community for how to deal with...anything. I can’t imagine how hard it is for people like us to get by on a practical level sometimes. So I just...wondered. It’s good, though, that you found a way to make do for yourself. I’m happy for that.” She tried to busy herself with the next few pieces of the mosaic they were constructing together, but after the first one she had to stop. She looked at Jared with eyes that held only understanding for him. “We’re people too, Jared. And from what I understand from Remmy, they treat dogs at the pound better than they did some of these creatures. I don’t know how to...how to carry what I did there. But I don’t think it was wrong. Not the way other people would think it was wrong. And I don’t know what we could’ve done different, exactly. Those people didn’t...they didn’t see us, you know? They didn’t see any of the creatures they kept locked up as anything with a life of its own. They just let them die, horribly, night after night.” She shivered and wiped away a tear budding at the corner of her eye. “And I don’t believe in moral binaries anyway so, you know, fuck human standards.”

The nymph was lost at first, the man hadn’t ever really thought about why he hadn’t done well in school. It just had sort of been a reality for him, he was sure it hadn’t helped that he’d started skipping. Even fae kids could have a rebellious phase it seemed. But he’d not grown out of it quickly considering he knew he wasn’t even human. “I don’t know honestly, I guess I was distracted by a whole host of other things. I needed to learn to focus, my bones ache all the time, and my mind wanders to my kids. Just maybe didn’t have the discipline or the knowledge to block it out and keep up. My glamour used to be my main focus day to day when I was younger.” Jared shrugged and smiled at Morgan. “Probably not the answer you were looking for, but I had no one to teach me how to manage all those things, so I was a slow learner all around. Never graduated, so it’s not like I can say I HAVE learned to manage myself.” he laughed jovially, not bothered by this fact as much as he used to be. The reality of the ring was indeed a sad one. It moved him to know Morgan felt the same way. He hoped she was shedding a tear for the creatures like he had and not just the people who’d suffered. Although both parties were definitely deserving of the grief. “Human standards suck, always have, according to the very few fae I’ve met. But maybe we’re just the vindictive type?” He reached out to the woman and gave her an encouraging smile. “If it helps. I’ve wandered the woods these last few days and a few have found their way to me. There is hope. They’re glad to be free, and you did that. Not only are your friend Remmy and Nell free, but some of them are too.”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know, sounds like keeping up that glamour full time takes a decent amount of concentration and discipline. Maybe you would’ve had the headspace if it wasn’t for that, but letting your fae flag fly in public isn’t exactly practical. Or safe. I think you’ve managed pretty well on your own, though. You’ve got a handle on everything that matters most to you, and that’s the important thing, right?”

She went slowly back to her work, pressing each piece with care and dabbing away at the grout that rose between the pieces so it was squished just right. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the word vindictive. In that moment in the dark, freshly flung from the bear, hearing that woman have the gall to be upset with her, go for her like she was the one owed. She remembered her own rage, her own hurt… “Maybe we wouldn’t have to be if things were more fair. But I am glad, you know?” She sniffled and blinked back her way tinto some composure. “We have our friends back, and maybe there’s some critters who can live their life with a little more peace. I’m not, you know, a longtime fighter or worker for this sort of thing like you are, I didn’t even know half the species I’m aware of now existed until I moved here, but I am...I do think your animals deserve as much of a fair shot as they can get.”

“That is the important thing. Though I wish there was a fae flag. We definitely need a flag. But it’s got to be invisible and it’s got to steal your name when you look at it. Since I’m pretty sure those are the rules.” Jared joked. It was slow work, but the mosaic for the gaps in the greenhouse would brighten the place up, and they definitely needed it around the farm lately. “We do have them back, and you don’t need to be fighting for my kids like I do. No one does, I just really appreciate that you don’t think of them as lowly as you could. Everyone deserves a shot you know?” He paused and put the last few spots of colour into the pane of glass he was working on and held it up towards the window to let the light through it. “But hey, all we can do is our best, all anyone can do is their best. And it’s sometimes not what we want, not enough, or not what you need. But it’s the best you can do. And it’s okay...but in my humble opinion my mosaic skills are godlike and nothing I can create will ever be less than perfect.” he tacked on to make her smile. 

Morgan couldn’t help but snort along with Jared. “Promise binds you on the spot not to talk about it too I bet.” She fumbled with the pieces she was working with and laid the last few down along the section she was working on. “You really are a uniquely understanding person, Jared. I don’t know as much as you do, obviously, but I do believe that everyone should get a fair shot, yeah.” She sniggered again at his pride in his handiwork. “Excuse me! I am clearly a goddess for my contributions to this work of fine art,” Morgan quipped. “We should let it rest before we put it in, yeah? But I think it’s the most beautiful thing ever made by supernatural hands. You know if you need anything more substantial… I mean, you helped break my friends out from the ring and fixed my brain. If that doesn’t make us friends now, I’m not sure what else could.”

He smiled at her widely. “I do try, it’s hard to see things from the other side a lot of the time. But I’m trying to get better. Especially after all this stuff.” Jared shrugged and then admired her work as well as his own. He was really happy with how it was turning out. Asking for Morgan's help had definitely been the key to all this. It was kind of therapeutic as well. “Oh yeah definitely, absolutely. Only gods would be able to create something like this. We’re the highest of the high. No one can even see us anymore, we're so good.” The nymph shrugged. “You don’t need to offer anything to be friends. We can just be friends you know...no strings required.”

Morgan’s face turned sheepish. “Sorry. Old habit, I guess. I was raised to believe in equivalent exchange in all things, to keep my balance with the universe and maintain that balance with everything and everyone I encountered. At least as much as possible. But I think maybe when it comes to certain people, maybe when it comes to friends...balance can look different, or be different than how I was taught.” She ran her finger over the fine glass pieces. They didn’t feel like anything to her but they really were beautiful together, even in all their misfit shapes and humble offerings, they were enough. “Then we’re friends, Jared. No deals or offers or trades. Just friends.”

[hopelesstvaddict]

Jon and Sansa's relationship is fragile because of Jon's insecurities

[So we're back. Instead of full reviews I think I'm just gonna write about specific subjects that make me pause and think, more than the general episodes]

So we've been treated with Jon's return to Winterfell and his rocky relationship with Sansa resumes. Again. Ain't this old by now ? Perhaps not.

Jon and Sansa are at their most affectionate when it comes to hugs but this second time, Sansa keeps focused on what's important. I don't really understand why Jon would take issue with Sansa speaking up at the council in the Great Hall; she brought up very valid points. Saving the world is important of course but people tend to forget what needs to happen behind the scenes in order to ensure that. I think I'm not alone in this but I also wondered why she didn't take into account Dany's army when preparing all the food storing. While that can be blamed on sloppy writing and it's fair to say that she could have at least entertained the idea, it's also fair to remember that Jon's main idea was first to mine dragonglass and then try to convince Dany to help them. Sansa was not convinced he would succeed; in her mind, Dany would only care about her throne. So far she's not proven entirely wrong. And we also have to remember that Jon didn't send any message to her for a long time and certainly not before he knelt. Probably the last scroll she got was something like 'Hey I'm ok' and then next thing she knew he had bent the knee. So by this time it was already too late to gather whatever food was necessary. Plus I think it's safe to say the entire North brought what food was available FOR THE NORTH ONLY. Obviously there wasn't much and in any case, even if she had been warned she'd have to feed many more, there wouldn't have been enough. Sansa takes care of all this, and all the political stuff - things that both Jon and Dany do not care about and have little regard for. Jon still doesn’t quite realize how much he needs Sansa to handle all of this because he doesn’t realize how important it is. Yet.

The scene that stood out the most takes place during Jon and Arya's reunion in which Jon tries to dismiss Sansa. Live reaction: Ok so we're back to this 'Jon-putting-down-his-sister' nonsense? At first view, it's quite infuriating to see Jon acting this way and it's hard to believe these two ever found a way to unite and effing retake Winterfell. But once you stop and think about it, this little exchange yields so much to analyze.

As many pointed out, Jon likely tries to revert to a childhood joke he shared with Arya when they were younger and used to diss their sister together. Fair point. Siblings often side against one another. But that shows several things. Jon has been away from Arya all series long and he doesn't realize yet that she's not his little baby sister anymore. His conversation about Needle further proves the point. In any case, Arya is having none of it and supports Sansa. We're all here for this.

Here Jon seemingly tries to diminish Sansa's intelligence. But he knows that she really IS smarter than everyone else. He knows it. So I think part of what's going on here is that Jon works as the embodiment of the last part of the general audience who still thinks that Sansa is useless and this scene was written for Arya - a known fan favorite - to dismiss this and assert her support of Sansa - to really drive home this idea. The scene with Tyrion (another fan favorite) serves a similar purpose.

Narratively, beyond Jon dismissing Sansa yet again, this reads as another instance where it's more about Jon than it is about Sansa. Several times Jon has confronted Sansa about her asserted cleverness - and all those times, she's been right - and each time it boiled down to Jon's lack of self-confidence and the need to prove himself to his sister. When she told him that Ramsey was more devious than what he thought, his first reaction was to boast about his military achievements. When she told him to be smarter than Robb and their father, his reaction was to half-jokingly dismiss her offer of counsel. This essentially is a version of him saying 'Yeah she's smart but so am I and I wish she saw it too'

This ties closely with the rest of the exchange where Arya tells him that Sansa is defending the family. Pay attention to what Jon says next - specifically the choice of phrasing it.

There is so much to draw from that line. He doesn't say 'She's my family too' or 'she's our family' or 'I'm your family too'. His choice of words means 'I, Jon, am part of Sansa's family too'. That singles out Sansa as Jon's focus for discontent. He could have said 'I'm your family' or just 'I'm family too' and that would have included Bran and Arya as well. But no, Sansa alone is who Jon focuses on. This shows that he still has some unresolved issues with her - even after all that happened between them. After two seasons of her repeatingly validating him, her saying out loud 'You're a Stark to me' he still doubts HER in particular

Perhaps that boils down to her behavior towards him when they were children since this comes up again later. A seemingly random bit of conversation but one can't help but wonder why this was brought up again. Jon and Sansa weren't close growing up and Jon is a deeply insecure person, being a bastard and all that and it's understandable that he would have a hard time letting go of all these presumptions when they all but defined his childhood. She was the sole of his siblings to make him feel like he didn't have a real place in the family (to make it very simple), hence why he doesn't have a problem with Arya or Bran. Yet.

But how can Sansa change that ? A girl can repeat her support for him so much and reassure him all the time but really it's up to Jon to get past childish jabbing and accept the woman his sister has become and that she's genuine in her concern towards him. That she's changed.

'I'm her family too' is another way of saying 'I'm part of her family too so why is she always antagonizing me/fighting me/disagreeing with me?' Jon still thinks Sansa doesn't consider him family and she's the last one not to in his mind.

The choice of words also emphasizes the 'I'. Rather than say 'she' and put focus on Sansa alone, the use of 'I' brings the sentence back to Jon and puts the spotlight on him as well. 'I am part of her family too'. As if he's saying it out loud and repeating it so that perhaps his thick brain will finally accept it. This is a clever exchange that foreshadows the existential/identity crisis that he's going to go through no later than before the end of the episode. Which renders Arya's 'Don't forget that' quite unsubtle. This will be Jon’s final storyline, the resolution of the one problem that defined him at the beginning of the story.

This need to gain Sansa's approval is driven further in the scene the two of them share later on (another candlelit setting). We have yet to see Jon interact with Bran or Arya but Jon is decidedly different with Sansa. Perhaps that's because they're the eldest. Perhaps that's because they're closer in age. Perhaps that's because they are the leaders of their House. Perhaps that's because they went to war together. In any case, Jon is wary, unsure and insecure about how she feels about him. He doesn’t look to Sansa the way he affectionately looks to Arya or Bran. A smile is rare when he interacts with Sansa. He yells, they don't see eye to eye, he feels like she belittles him, he feels hurt and at the end of it, this :

This is him asking her for reassurance. Asking for a clear answer. 'Please trust me. Please tell me that you support me'. He craves her validation. After he all but dismissed her in front of Arya. Why go see her? Why take her intel so close to his heart then ?

To which she responds 'You know I do'. Two things to take from this. First, once again she reassures him and reasserts her support and loyalty to him. Second, 'YOU KNOW I do' means 'you already know the answer'. This shows that in her mind, Jon should ALREADY know that he has acquired her undying support - probably against her better judgement. Newsflash : he doesn’t.

Can we stop now for a second and breathe a sigh of relief that Sansa has grown confident enough to be sure of who she is and not question Jon's lack of faith in her ? Thank the Gods one of them has their shit together because if she were like him, this wouldn't go anywhere.

It's possible that her not lashing out at him and instead adopting this quiet, sad behavior is also the manifestation of her own fear towards him - that he effectively abandoned her. For all the tough 'no one can protect me' behavior, anyone is going to be touched to have someone pledge to protect them.

Anyway, Sansa trusts Jon but he doesn't. It's quite interesting that he was the one asking for mutual trust before and yet he is the one in the end who can't totally do it because in his heart, he is still deeply insecure about her. Sure there were some steps made. Ensuring the safety of the North and entrusting her with it was a huge improvement. But still, we see that on a personal level he is quite not there.

The obvious question then is WHY. Why is he still insecure ? And why Sansa in particular ? The beginning of an answer can be found in the relationship he had with her while they were children and how it compares to Arya and Bran. Maybe that's just remnants of that strained relationship.

But if Sansa has changed and for the better and Jon still struggles to accept it, let's just hope that a similar situation doesn't arise with Arya and Bran. Let's rule out the latter since he's all about the zen attitude but we've already seen that Arya is not Jon's Arya anymore and that she will stand beside Sansa when needed. For now, Jon has no reason to doubt Arya like he does Sansa. When the reveal about his parentage comes out, how will Sansa and Arya react ? If he can't handle the thought of one sister seemingly doubting him, what's it going to be if it's two sisters ?

All of this insecurity regarding Sansa - for now - is at least partly in preparation of the drama that is sure to unfold in the next weeks. Jon fears that Sansa doesn't see him as family and now, he has even more reason to be afraid. All the drama that has happened between them for seasons boils down to this deep fear of not being accepted by her and now we're in for the culmination. There will be a lot of fighting, we’re told. Jon will sulk and convince himself that he was right in the end, that he wasn't part of the family and more so, that SHE was right not to accept him. Sansa on the other hand, I suspect, will mainly fight to make him accept once and for all that he is a Stark. That's the passionate fight for her this season. To make her family complete.

Another interesting thing to note - as others have observed - is that the conversation is left unfinished.

Sansa asks if Jon loves Dany and he doesn't respond. Once again, Sansa demonstrates - to us and to Jon - how perceptive she is, how well she can read people, and him specifically. As of now, Jon’s relationship with Dany is still a secret and yet she has figured it out.

What's really notable is that this is a pattern in a lot of Sansa/Jon conversations, specifically the ones where they argue in private. Compare this one to the tent scene in 6x09 or the one in 7x01 right after the council or even in 6x07 when they argue about the men they have. We have Sansa and Jon arguing heatedly then the conversation tones down to soft, sad voices and then it ends before resolution can happen, either because they choose to end it there, someone else interrupts or we simply are denied to see it.

Sansa and Jon have been arguing ever since they reunited. Every season they were pitted against each other as the siblings who fought. Now in the final season, it's still brought up and used in the narrative. Meaning that it means something, that it's important to the story. We saw that Arya and Sansa fought in Season 7. It was tied to their old bickering from childhood and ultimately it was resolved and now Arya stands by her sister. Narratively, a conflict plaguing characters has to be resolved when the story comes to its conclusion. Sansa and Jon’s storyline has been going on since Season 6 now, so their relationship HAS TO come to a resolution, one way or another. And it'll be all about Jon finally accepting that he is a Stark and about him accepting that Sansa has accepted it.

[honestlydarkcherryblossom]

Reckless. H. Hyunjin

Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader warnings! : mentions of alcohol, depression, abuse, and sexual harassment  word count: 1.5k not proof read.

A/N: okay, so this is my first fanfic on tumblr. It’s been awhile since I’ve written and I’ve really missed it. But because it’s been so long my writting skills are kind of trash to please be kind. (Also stay healthy and safe!)

If you had to describe yourself in one word, it would be adventurous. Ask anyone else to describe you in one word, they would say reckless. It’s not that you were irresponsible, you just had a knack for getting yourself into less than ideal situations. Your bestfriend, Hyunjin, knew that better than anyone, seeing as he was always the one to come to your rescue and drag you out of whatever mess you had gotten yourself into. 

The day was coming to an end, almost every responsible person was home getting ready for bed and a full day of work or school the next day. But you were not one of those people. Instead you were out at a dingy bar with less than respectable people. The dimly lit room was filled with the stench of smoke, alcohol and B.O, but you didn’t mind, you were actually used to the smell since you frequented the bar many times before. Usually you would come with a couple friends but tonight no one wanted to come, not even your bestfriend, which left you all on your lonesome. 

You sat at the bar alone, talking to the bartender, the pour soul having to listen to all your problems. Things at home were bad, but you never let that get to you, you always made a point to remember that other people had it worst. Despite that, you still felt like all your problems were weighing you down. You were the happy friend, the friend who made everyone else smile, you weren’t the friend that needed comforting. No, never. There had been times where you wanted so desperately to reach out, to let your friends help you, but you didn’t want to drag them down with you. So you opted to keep your problems to yourself. Except for now of course. 

“I just- I don’t think I can take much more  if I’m being completely honest. My mom wants me to be this perfect, straight A student who’s never even thought about kissing a boy. She hasn’t even looked at me since my dad passed. And my brother-” you started to trail off, absentmindedly rubbing your bruised wrist. The bartender looked at you sympathetically, he knew you were obviously too young to be here, but from what he was hearing, maybe being here was better than being home. You went to take another sip of your drink but the bartender stopped you, gently taking the glass out of your hands. “I think you’ve had enough for the night.” You scoffed, who did this guy think he was? He didn’t know you, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell you when you’ve had enough. “I’m fine” you argued, taking the drink back and downing it before he got the chance to take it away again. “Look kid, I know things are tough but-” “but nothing- whatever man, I’m leaving.” And with that, you stumbled out of the bar.

The cold air nipped at you skin, the wind pushed you hair behind you, and the flickering street lights lit up your face. You couldn’t stop thinking back to that bartender. He had no right to tell you, you’ve had enough. You were fine, you were better than fine, you were great, at least that’s what you told yourself. The truth was you weren’t, you were so far from being okay and you had no idea how to fix it. Everyday you would wake up and mentally prepare yourself for whatever that day had in store. In school you would put on a fake smile and crack stupid jokes and do stupid stuff just to get your friends to laugh. When you would get home- that was a whole other story. You lived in constant fear, not know what was going happen or when it was going to happen. Home wasn’t a safe place for you like it was for everyone else, it was a prison, a place that confined and constricted you, it drained you of all life and sense of self. 

“Hey babygirl, what’s a sweet thing doing out here all alone” those words seemed to sober you up quick. You quickened your pace, not really sure where you were going, all you knew is you needed to get out of there fast. Before you knew what was going on you were slammed onto a brick wall. The impact of your body colliding with the wall had knocked all the air out of your lunges, causing you to let out a few strangled coughs. “I’m talking to you baby” the man growled. His voice made every hair on you body stand up, you did not like this one bit. He was way older than you, his fairly worn skin and salt and pepper hair showed that. “I don’t wanna talk” you shot at the man with venom laced in you voice. “Feisty, I like that” “I bet you like a lot of things pervert, now let me go” “not gonna happen.” His grip tightened on your wrist and he stepped on your feet, basically rendering you imobile. “I said let go, you dick” “you’re going to be begging for this dick in a minute.” You heart sped up as you struggled violently against the man’s grip. “Let go” you screamed, trying to draw in anyone's attention, but it was pointless, both you and him knew that. The man ducked his head to attach his lips to your neck, you cringed, trying to push yourself further away from him as tears welled up in your eyes. You wished that you could disappear into the brick wall and get away from the disgusting man.

The mans lips were suddenly yanked off your neck as he was pulled off of you. Despite the man being off of you, you could still feel his lips on your neck, his breath on your skin, his hands wrapped tightly around your wrist. Being so lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed your savior beating your attacker to a pulp. You were finally snapped out of your trance by someone calling your name. Looking up, you saw Hyunjin, he looked at you with so much concern as he rushed up to you. “Are you okay” he asked again, knowing you didn’t hear him the first time he asked, you didn’t respond, you couldn’t. Instead you latched onto him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, I got you” his cooed softly into your hair as he held you tightly, making sure you felt safe.

After awhile of Hyunjin holding you and calming you down, you two eventually made your way to his car. He started driving you home and you could feel a pit building up in your stomach, you didn’t want to go home. “How’d you find me” you asked quietly, hoping conversation would take your mind off of the gnawing feeling his the forefront of your mind. “You left your phone at the bar-” Hyunjin said as he motioned to you phone which now sat in one of the cupholders. “The bartender called me, he said you were pretty drunk and stormed out” there was a moment of silence, you didn’t know what to say, you felt so unbelievably dumb. Sure you had done stupid stuff in the past, but nothing that would’ve gotten you hurt. “What were you thinking, Y/n. You went to a bar, alone, on a school night” “I just couldn’t be at home anymore” you said softly. “What do you mean” “I just- nothing, okay, forget it” “no, I won’t forget it, Y/n your my bestfriend, you can talk to me.” You looked over at Hyunjin, he looked tired, he was probably sleeping when the bartender called. You felt bad that he had come all the way downtown to come pick you up, and now you were about to dump all your problems on him, how selfish could you be? “Me and my brother got into a fight, I left” that’s all you said, you couldn’t have him anymore worried, if you told him what really happened, he would never leave you alone again. You grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze to let him know you were okay before saying, “Thank you, Hyunjin, I don’t think you understand how much I love you.” Those words may have seemed small to him, simple words of affection you two threw around regularly, but you didn’t mean it in that way, not this time. You truly loved him, but you would never confess you true feelings to him, he couldn’t know, because if he liked you back, you would be dragging him into a world of pain and suffering, and you would never do that to your bestfriend. “I love you too” he said back quietly, meaning his words in the same way you meant yours, but out of fear of rejection, he kept it to himself. All the words you two wanted to say to eachother in that moment got lost into the world of words believed better left unsaid, leaving the two of you just as you were, and just as you believed you would always stay, bestfriends.

[loca-over-luca]

quiet, please.

prompt: the library's pretty empty save for you and me and OH! that couple making out loudly in the shelves somewhere

Lucas ran his fingers through his hair as he tried for the nth time that day to understand the material in front of him. Finals were looming, and by looming he meant in a couple of days, and he really needed to concentrate.

If only the couple making out in the shelves near him can take a fucking breather and maybe try harder to muffle their moans so they can stop distracting him.

He took a deep breath and tried to read the same paragraph he’d been trying to understand for half an hour already.

“Oh baby…”

‘Fuck this,’ he thought exasperatedly, shutting his book closed with a firm snap. He stood up, hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and looked around the library to find a spot where he can move to without moans and wet kisses as his background noise. Thank God the library was empty, save for Lucas, the couple getting it on in the stacks and simultaneously getting on his nerves and one other guy on the other side of the room, near the windows. He looked familiar but Lucas couldn’t be bothered to try and figure out who it was.

He walked over to his chosen spot and dropped his things unceremoniously on the desk. He winced slightly as the noise of his book’s spine hitting the wooden table echoed through the library. Lucas furtively looked at the other guy, ready to apologize but found him still hunched over, lost in his own little world. 'Good for him,' he thought with a little bit of bitterness.

He shrugged and proceeded to open his Biology book, ready to continue where he left off. After a few minutes, Lucas was finally engrossed on what he's reading and thank fuck, he's finally starting to understand what Imane was trying to explain to him earlier during class, when he heard it again.

“I've missed you so much, baby.”

“Are you kidding me,” Lucas muttered under his breath. “Get a room, for crying out loud. Really? In the library? Of all places? While I’m trying to study? I could be out with Yann and the boys, partying, but noooo, the one time I actually chose to be responsible, the universe just. Wouldn’t. Let. Me. Why universe, whyyyy?” Lucas continued his rant, each word punctuatedd by a thump of his head against the desk.

“Hey, are you okay?”

'No, I am not. I am stressed as fuck but nobody cares, certainly not the two lovebirds who clearly missed each other a little too much and couldn’t be bothered to get a fucking room. So, no, I am not okay –' Lucas continued his internal monologue when he made the mistake of looking up and saw who was talking to him, which caused him to inadvertently repeat what he uttered out earlier, “Are you kidding me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. No. Yeah. I’m fine,” Lucas said, once he finally got his bearings. He coughed slightly, to cover up his embarrassment of being caught talking to himself. Yup. That’s why his ears are turning bright pink. Certainly not because Eliott fucking Demaury was talking to him. Nope.

‘Stay cool, Lucas. Stay cool,’ he coached himself as he struggled to remain composed under his crush’s curious scrutiny.

“So, you come here often?” He internally cringed the moment the words were out of his mouth. “I meant, what are you doing here?” Lucas cleared his throat, trying his very best to regain some semblance of control over his brain and his mouth.

“Same as you,” Eliott answered, tilting his head towards Lucas’ stack of text books on the desk. “Cramming for finals.”

“I am not cramming,” Lucas replied defensively. “There’s just a lot of material that I need to review by Friday so I am studying with determination, not cramming, thank you very much.”

“That is the definition of cramming, Lucas,” Eliott said, his eyes dancing in amusement as he smiled at the other boy. Whatever information Lucas had absorbed earlier flew right out the window at the sight of Eliott’s smile and the sound of his name on Eliott’s lips.

“Uhm,” Lucas responded helpfully. His brain still hadn’t computed how he got into this situation. One minute he was ranting at the universe and the next minute, said universe threw him a curveball in the form of the boy he’s been crushing on since orientation day of his freshman year. They've met at numerous parties before and Lucas would like to think they're acquaintances but it would be too presumptuous of him to say they're actually friends. He wished they were, actually being more than friends would be ideal in Lucas' opinion, but not once did he gather up the courage to actually ask Eliott out.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I was just about to leave but then I saw you… doing whatever it was you were doing.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Like I said, I was studying or at least, trying to but I keep getting distracted by-”

A loud groan echoed through the library followed by the sound of two people kissing. Enthusiastically.

Eliott's eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows rose a notch as he heard the unmistakable sounds that scream 'hot and heavy make out session' coming from behind the shelves.

"-that," Lucas finished, hanging his head in defeat. Under other circumstances, he would’ve laughed out loud at Eliott’s scandalized expression but he was so done. At this rate, he'd just have to make do and study at the flat even though he knew Mika would be there right now. His roommate specifically told him that he was going to take off work that day to watch Eurovision, and Lucas knew he'd never get a moment's peace even if he kept himself in his room. Maybe he can lock himself inside the bathroom for a few hours since it's the farthest from the living room. 'Yeah, that would have to do,' he sighed, accepting his fate.

Lucas stood up and started to gather his belongings, avoiding Eliott's eyes. He felt his cheeks grow hot as the older boy continued to look at him while he put his books back to his backpack but he refused to look up.

"Wanna come over and study with me at my apartment?"

Lucas hands froze at Eliott's invitation and his head whipped up so fast he felt a little dizzy for a moment. It’s definitely not because of what Eliott just said. Nope. He found the older boy grinning at him with his eyes crinkling adorably in the corners as he waited patiently for Lucas to respond.

'Okay, universe, what the fuck is going on right now. Not that I'm complaining,' Lucas thought as he stared at Eliott, completely dumbstruck that the older boy invited him over, just like that.

A few more awkward seconds passed by and while Lucas still could not get his brain to function, Eliott started to look a little nervous as he fidgeted with his backpack strap.

"It's fine if you don't want to. I just thought it would be quiet there since my roommates already left to go to a party. That's why I was heading home already," Eliott backtracked, his bright smile dimming a little as Lucas continued to look at him like he just announced that he killed his mother.

"Uhm, Eliott. I'm really grateful and let me just tell you, you are a godsend for offering, but uh.. are you sure? You barely know me. I could be a serial killer, you know. Do you just invite random people over? What if this is just a ploy to gain your sympathy so that you'll invite me over and I'll steal whatever valuable stuff you have in your apartment," Lucas rambled, all the while mentally cursing himself. 'STOP TALKING, LUCAS. Comparing yourself to a criminal. Bravo. What a way to make an impression.'

Eliott threw his head back, his delighted laugh distracting Lucas from having an internal meltdown. Again, the younger boy was rendered speechless by the way Eliott's throat moved as he laughed and the way his face lit up at Lucas' words.

"Lucas," Eliott said softly, once his laughter faded. Lucas bit his lip, in an effort to stop himself from asking Eliott to say his name again in that tone of voice. Eliott darted his eyes down to Lucas' mouth, his gaze darkening a little at the sight in front of him but when he looked up again, his eyes are as bright as before, which made Lucas think he must have imagined it in the first place.

"I thought we we were friends. Are you saying we're not?" the older boy teased, feigning hurt, clutching his heart jokingly.

"We haven't really talked or hung out before," Lucas explained, fighting off the smile that threatened to slip out at Eliott's antics.

"Well, we're talking right now, right? And I invited you over to my apartment. To study, yes, but also to hang out. If that's what you want." Eliott unexpectedly brought his hand up and fussed a bit with Lucas' hair, making the younger boy's heart momentarily stop one second and then beat in an uneasy rhythm the next.

"I do want to know you better."

Lucas stared at Eliott, completely floored. He could not believe that Eliott, the guy he'd been daydreaming about for a year, the guy who has the power to make him weak in the knees by just nodding at him when they pass by each other in the hallway, the guy whose name he embarrassingly doodled on his notebook time and time again until Yann caught him, actually said that he'd like to get to know him. There was no mistaking now, the way Eliott looked at him, the way the older boy's eyes flitted immediately to his lips when he nervously licked them, the way he met Lucas' stare with a challenge in his eyes, as if saying 'try me, know me, be with me'.

Lucas shook himself out of his trance and thought to himself, 'Why not?' Hey if this is the universe's peace offering to him, who was he to refuse it?

"Okay. That would actually be perfect. My roommate's home and he can get a bit too emotionally invested in Eurovision so I definitely would not have peace and quiet at mine. I was just planning on being cooped up in the bathroom for a few hours, actually," he admitted. He mentally pat himself in the back for sounding calm and composed despite the panicked fluttering of butterflies in his stomach.

Eliott's smile was back in full force and Lucas can feel himself melt a little bit at the utter adorableness being directed at him at that moment. He forced himself to look away, lest he blurt out something ridiculous like how Eliott's eyes just twinkle when he smiles like that or like how he can be compared to a literal ray of fucking sunshine and Lucas is a sunflower, desperate to be showered by his light. Lucas shook his head slightly to clear his mind. 'That's pretty fucking cheesy, Lallemant. Pull yourself together.'

Lucas finished tidying up and just when he was about to ask Eliott if he even lived on campus, they heard a clattering of books behind them followed by muffled giggling.

"They're still going at it, huh," Eliott observed dryly. He glanced at Lucas, deep in thought for a few seconds. He looked at the younger boy and waggled his eyebrows, mischievousness evident in his eyes.  "What do you say to giving them some competition, Lucas?"

It really is amazing how many times Lucas' brain can short-circuit in such a short amount of time. Maybe it's the reason why he responded with a half-dazed "Sure" at Eliott's ridiculous suggestion because, really, there's no way he really said what Lucas thought he said. Right?

But then he found himself being dragged along the stacks, past the psychology books, past the encyclopedias 'really, who the hell still reads encyclopedias when we have the internet?' into one of the darker corners of the library.

Lucas let his eyes adjust to the lower lighting in his new surroundings and looked at Eliott, a little out of breath, silently asking 'What now?'

Eliott glanced down at the smaller boy and slowly lifted his hands to cup Lucas' cheeks. "Tell me if this isn't okay," he whispered.

Lucas met his gaze and found the same warmth he saw earlier mixed in with laughter and a flicker of something else. Fondness? Affection? Desire? He can't figure it out at the moment, especially when Eliott started rubbing his thumbs on his cheeks, making his eyes flutter shut at the softness of Eliott's touch. Lucas could hear his heart pounding inside his chest and he briefly wondered if the other boy can hear it too.

"It's okay."

The crash of Eliott's lips against his, the sheer force of it, stunned Lucas. He let out a loud moan, one that could rival what their companions let out earlier, and Lucas was not ashamed to admit that he didn't give one single fuck. He felt Eliott's hands tremble slightly against his cheeks, making him feel a bit relieved that no, he's not the only one affected by this.

Lucas felt Eliott's tongue slide gently across his lower lip, seeking entrance and he gladly opened his mouth to let him in. His knees buckled at the first contact and all he could think about was,'This is actually happening. This is right. This is how it's supposed to be.'

Eliott let his hand travel downward and Lucas couldn't help the shiver that went through his spine as Eliott gripped his waist tightly.

“Why don't we give them something to really talk about huh?” Eliott smirked, before kissing him again. This time there was no hint of nervousness in Eliott's movements.

Lucas brought his arms up to wrap around Eliott's shoulders, holding on to him tightly as if his life depended on it.

Eliott's hands slipped inside his shirt, caressing the soft skin there, causing Lucas to make an almost inhuman noise.

“Your hands are too cold!”

“Warm me up, then.”

Lucas groaned at this and it was his turn to crash his lips against Eliott's. He could taste the mint that Eliott had earlier along with a hint of smoke and Lucas just can't get enough. He trailed kisses from Eliott's mouth, to his cheek down to his neck and sucked lightly causing the older boy to fucking keen.

They continued making out, for who knows how long. All sense of time disappeared the moment Lucas whimpered and Eliott did everything in his power to hear it again and again.

After a while, only their heavy breathing could be heard. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“I guess we won,” Eliott declared.

“We sure showed them, huh,” Lucas replied. He was smiling so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt. He just couldn't help it.

Eliott nodded absentmindedly as he continued to stare at Lucas with something akin to wonder and Lucas can just bet his ass that he had a similar look on his face.

“Shall we?”

Lucas looked down at Eliott's proffered hand, smiled as he took it in his own and gave a little squeeze. More for his own benefit as he still can't quite believe that this is not just a dream on his part.

“Let's go.”

They walked out of the library hand in hand, giggling like school girls as they passed by the disgruntled, and slightly disheveled, librarian who was finally back at her desk.

Lucas wouldn't have imagined that what he thought would be a boring night of studying at the library, would turn out to be one of the most exciting nights of college life so far. He came in, stressed as can be and berating himself for not choosing to go with his friends to a party. Little did he know that he would end the night holding hands with his longtime crush, on their way to said crush's apartment.

To study, of course. But Lucas knew himself. There's definitely no way he's going to be able to study now. Whatever. He can always study tomorrow.

for @itubainaretro ilu mec <3

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