#on the contrary to that one guy form my group because he's FURIOUS right now lol

[drysauce]

i fucked up 😌

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 02 | Crosstalk | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 10.2K

Last time on SR01: Namjoon introduced you to his friends and you find yourself absorbed into their little group rather quickly. While on your way to a Halloween party hosted at Jimin’s beautiful condo, you admit to your best friend Jennie that you have a crush on the sweet, shy, nerdy Jungkook. This just happens to be the same night he reveals his true nature: fuckboy. Now that’s just embarrassing, isn’t it?

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, let’s play some drinking games, dirty jokes, innuendos, friendship feels, jealousy, flashing, sexual tension, dumbBitch reader is drinking her dumbBitchjuice tonight, Tae makes things weird for half a sec, hint of foot fetish?, flirting with Hobi, flirting with Jin, embarrassedJoon who is also a mediator part time, tsundere softYoongi, Jimin is a traitorous snake who lives for the drama, Jungkook is like the kid pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes, tiniest glimpse at softboyeJK underneath

CW:  excessive drinking,  filthy language

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (2/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost. masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It's been months since the fiasco with Jungkook. You do your best to avoid any opportunity to hang with the group in a stationary setting when he’s present, but he’s kind of an unavoidable obstacle at this point. Pissed doesn’t begin to cover your feelings towards him and hurt doesn’t quite do it either. You’re angry about the things he did, the things he said, the way he covered up his true self, but most of all, you’re furious that your feelings didn’t just evaporate with the shift in his persona.

You thought time would heal everything, but so far it’s only turned you bitter about the whole thing. He still smells so fucking good. He’s still got a body like the weightlifting champ he is. He’s still dorky and funny in ways you wouldn’t expect a tool of his calibre to demonstrate. But he’s also a player and a crass asshole. A crasshole. Has he ever stayed with the same girl for more than a few days? You’d wager a confident sum of money that he never has.

Even though you hate his guts, your brain still finds ways to remind you that even if he’s a dick, he’s a dick you’re still attracted to. He’s the kind of dick you suck one night after getting drunk on cheap beer, and in the light of day you are disgusted with everything about it. So don’t get drunk and don’t suck that dick. Easy peasy, especially since fury overtakes you any time you look at him.

Pissed at him? That doesn’t cover it. Pissed at yourself? That’s closer, but it's still not quite all-encompassing. It’s some sort of culmination between the two that has you absolutely livid with the entire situation any time you think about it. He made you feel like a fool. You genuinely liked the person you thought he was, and he embarrassed you. That made not talking to him the way you did when you thought he had the emotional capacity of an actual decent human being hurt even more. At least you know now that he’s got more in common with a lifeless, unfeeling rock.

Not that he hasn’t tried to get you to talk to him. He has, texting you jokes, sending articles on upcoming game titles, spamming invites to a party on xbox live any time you log on, making a point to stand next to you, interrupting all of your conversations with an obnoxious “Hi, Princess!” and pestering you until you acknowledge him. Thankfully Namjoon has kept him from sitting next to you when you carpool, whether it be for dancing, dinner, karaoke, or any other external hangouts. Nevertheless, he still finds a way to annoy you despite the barriers in his path, and you are ready to claw his eyes out at a moment’s notice.

To keep your mind off how your last crush, well, crushed you and continues to let you down, you’ve been downloading and trying out a few different dating apps. You figure it’s time to find someone to connect with, and this is definitely how people do it these days, but your experience has been less than stellar. Jennie helped you set up your profiles and mentioned it in passing to Namjoon, mistakenly believing you told your other bestie about it. He's been teasing you about it every week since, but has been sworn to silence around the others under fear of you telling everyone about the time you caught him making out with a couch pillow.

He doesn't crash on your couch anymore.

Ever since Hoseok and Yoongi moved into the apartment down the hall, he's spent more evenings on their comfy sectional than you can count, but always after binging Kung Fu movies and bringing gratuitous amounts of takeout over your place. You’re grateful for the solitude so you can attempt to converse with strangers via text — maybe even flirt a little. Most of your conversations have become stagnant, but there’s been one guy texting you back and forth for a month now. You’re waiting on him to ask you out since you’re too much of a chickenshit to make the first move.

Now, as you walk down the hall with Namjoon, he elbows your ribs. “So... how’s your Jay-Jay?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Jason is fine.”

“He text you this week?” he asks, stopping in front of the apartment door.

Kind of.

“Mm-hmm!” Your reply is overly enthusiastic and it makes him suspicious.

“Did you text him first?” he questions, pausing before his knuckles touch the door.

Yes. But only because I saw a meme I could use as an excuse to talk to him.

“No.” The tone is questionable so you shake your head violently, scoffing. “I told him I wanted to meet in person.”

“Good. Good. Either he responds or he doesn’t,” he surmises, as if what he said isn’t the most obvious thing in the world. He snakes his hand around the back of your neck, massaging his fingers in circles over muscles you didn’t realize you’d tensed up. “And either way, I’m 100% certain you’re way too good for him. So don’t worry about it so much, okay?”

He snickers when you cast your gaze at the floor with a shy smile. “Joonie… That’s really sweet of you to say. I... Thank you.”

He shrugs off the gratitude with a smirk, trying to not let it get to his head. It’s true and you need to hear it. He clears his throat and knocks, nervously glancing over at you with his other hand still working small circles into the back of your neck. You’ll figure out soon enough that he’s also buttering you up since Jungkook is definitely home tonight, contrary to your belief that he certainly would not be.

The door swings open and a very sweaty, very shirtless Jungkook stands with his leg propped against the door, showcasing every glistening muscle of his body in the dim light. He dons an innocent smile, spreading his stance to push the door open wider and making sure you get a good look at the muscles tensing in his thigh. Your eyes helplessly scan the sculpted lines of his stomach, even as he purposefully flexes to draw the tiniest gasp from your lips. Pert brown nipples threaten to steal your attention, but you drag your eyes to the ink splattered across his skin instead. The myriad of tattoos that line the right side of his body tell a story you don’t have time or desire to explore, and you hate the way that your brain notes the curl of black ink disappearing beneath the band of his shorts and reappearing across his thigh.

“Princess, you made it.” He clicks his tongue with a devilish smirk as he watches you look him up and down with your mouth hanging stupidly agape.

Feeling your fight or flight response kick in, Namjoon’s fingers clamp down hard on your neck to keep you from bolting.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss in your friend’s direction, too distracted to fight against his iron grip on your neck.

“I live here,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms. “What? Didn’t you come here to see me?”

The anger on your tongue short circuits the connection your mouth has with your brain. Your jaw snaps shut and you roll your eyes, mirroring his action by folding your arms across your chest.

Jungkook seems amused by your irritation, offering a small laugh. “Client canceled so I decided to do a little exercise at home. Problem?”

He lets his hands drop to his sides, knowingly hooking his thumbs beneath the band of his shorts. Your eyebrow twitches and your jaw tightens. He knows the effect he has on women. He knows the effect he has on you. You’re determined to deny him the satisfaction so you simply stare him down. Douche.

Namjoon forces a dimpled smile to cut the tension. “So... I brought jenga! Do I smell pizza?”

You attempt to push past Jungkook, but he makes sure to bump a sweaty shoulder into you. “I’ve gotta shower. Wanna join?”

If you roll your eyes any harder, you might sever your optic nerve. “Don’t touch me.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Somehow you’ve been stuck with the worst jenga player in the world as your teammate. Namjoon may be a good friend and smart as fuck, but he is terrible at anything requiring coordination. He’s been the only one to knock the tower over. Four times now. That’s four times you’ve had to drink the disgusting gin offered in the form of a shot by Seokjin.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” you declare, wiping the taste of evergreen trees from your mouth as you set the empty shot glass back down. “Jin, jump in for me?”

You sit back in your chair and pulling out your phone to check your messages.The man grimaces at your request. “Do I have to? The odds seem stacked against me. I can only compensate so much, you know.”

Hoseok and Yoongi snicker into their beers and Jimin laughs out loud as he reaches into the communal bowl of popcorn possessively wedged between his teammate and himself.

“I think these teams are very fair,” Taehyung says, licking the salt from his fingers as he sets the last of the blocks back into position.

“I feel like my luck is changing. Different teammate, different energy, come on,” Namjoon assures him, making the first move.

The block slides out without issue and he drops it on top of the tower with a grin. Hoseok hums a thoughtful sound as he pushes a middle block with the tip of his pointer until it falls onto the other side of the table.

“I’m not sure you’re paying enough attention to be the referee,” Jin pouts.

“Are you really so mad that she’s not looking at you?” Jimin teases with a giggle while making his move. “This is one game where you can’t use your face as a bargaining chip, Jin. It’s all skill.”

The older man scoffs, rolling his eyes as he takes a side block and wagging it in your direction. “How will you know if someone cheats if you’re looking at your phone the whole time, hmm?”

“I’ll know,” you mutter, not bothering to look up. “Besides. How do you cheat at jenga? You knock the tower over or you don’t. Team that knocks the tower over does the shots. Those are pretty simple rules.”

Seokjin grumbles something unintelligible underneath his breath in response. You ignore him as you reach for your bottle of spiked root beer, trying to figure out some clever joke that might impress Jason enough to respond to you. You rack your brain, furrowing your brow in contemplation as you stare at the blinking cursor and take a big swig.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch the flash of white and subconsciously spare a glance up. Your stomach flips like it’s trying to win a gymnastics competition and you wish you could press undo on the double take your eyes have just performed without prompt. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Jungkook pauses in the hall, adjusting the white cotton towel around his waist. He’s grinning at you like the cat that ate the canary as he slowly drags his fingers over the edges of the fabric, peeling it from its resting place on his hips. Of course he fucking noticed.

You force your eyes back to the safety of your phone screen just in time, barely missing the flash of his glossy ink-covered skin. When he realizes you’re not watching the show he’s putting on, he fastens the towel around his waist and walks into the light of the den. You swallow, feeling his eyes rake over your form as he passes the table with a loud sigh.

“All clean,” he announces in a singsong voice as he continues towards the kitchen.

You hate the way your jaw threatens to betray you by attempting to drop at the sight of the rippled muscles carved into his upper back and the thick line creased into the meat of his spine. Even with the broad artistic strokes of color swathed across his back in the shape of a phoenix spreading its red-orange wings wide, you can still see the definition of his form chiseled beneath it. You try not to lose yourself in the flawless details painted into his flesh and grind your teeth to keep your jaw wired shut.

Wet, tangled locks of hair fall into his face as he reaches into the refrigerator. When he stands up straight, he arches his back to stretch his chest towards the ceiling. He’s got a tiny jug of banana milk in his palm and he’s working on chugging it down.

He pauses and licks remnants of the cloudy liquid from his lips. “Thirsty. Relatable, right, Y/N?”

You scowl, tapping furiously on your keyboard. “Put some fucking clothes on.”

Jungkook throws his hands in the air in defeat as he casually wanders out of the room. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Your eyes settle on the tower. Minutes pass and still it hasn’t fallen. Turn after turn around the table, the game has gone on far longer than anticipated. Namjoon is determined to not lose this time; it’s actually kind of impressive how careful he’s been. You’ve almost forgotten about Jungkook until he reappears, this time fully covered in black sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. The tension in the room is palpable. You’re afraid to even breathe in the direction of the wooden blocks precariously stacked on one another.

Hoseok is sweating as he prods the stack with his index finger, making a high-pitched whining sound as he tries to determine his next move. Jungkook wedges himself between Jin and Taehyung, forcing you to acknowledge his presence as he sits on the opposite side of the table and steals a fistful of popcorn.

After a few seconds, Hoseok sighs at Yoongi. “I give up. You do it. We’re a team. I’m gonna knock it over if you don’t,” he whines.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and quickly shoots his finger out at a random block. It flies across the table at Seokjin, causing him to dramatically duck out of the way just in time. The table erupts with laughter.

“Damn, that didn’t do it. I was hoping we could play cards now,” Yoongi mutters to himself.

“Hey, what are you doing? You almost hit me with that! You have to put that on top! Go get it!” Jin yells across the table, mind already heavily clouded with booze. At least he’s laughing so you know that heightened tone doesn’t indicate any serious animosity.

“It’s right next to you. Pick it up and give it to me,” Yoongi replies while leaning over the table, which causes the tower to immediately wobble. Hoseok dramatically gasps, bringing his hands to his mouth. Seokjin picks up the block and slides it across the surface as he gives you a pointed look.

"Isn't this cheating? Don't they forfeit since it was on Hobi’s turn?"

"They're technically a team.” You shrug.

"You are a terrible referee," he groans, rubbing his temple as Yoongi carelessly throws the piece on top.

Taehyung and Jimin fervently whisper to each other over their strategy before Taehyung reaches out for an easy-looking target. The slightest touch sends the blocks crashing down, causing the man to blink in disbelief.

“Time to drink up your handsome competitor. Gin served by Jin.” He snickers.

Jimin and Taehyung cringe as Jin slides two shot glasses full of the vile liquid towards them. They link elbows and tilt their heads back, downing the burning liquid in solidarity. Jimin seems unaffected while Taehyung’s face scrunches up and he coughs.

“It burns!” he sputters, clutching his chest. He walks into the kitchen, dragging his tongue across his palm as though it will remove the taste from his mouth.

“Thank god. I don’t think I could have stomached another,” Namjoon murmurs, rising to his feet. “Be right back.”

As soon as he heads off in the direction of the restroom, the others start cleaning up the mess of blocks scattered across the table and Yoongi begins shuffling a deck of cards. Jungkook takes the opportunity to slide into the empty seat beside you. You toss an annoyed glance his way in warning. “Can I help you, Jungkook?”

“You could if you weren’t so busy pretending like you don’t want to look at me.” His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he smiles innocently when you look up from your phone to glare daggers at him.

“You’re in Namjoon’s seat.”

He ignores your statement, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your phone screen. “Who are you texting? Is it your hot friend?”

“She doesn’t want to bang you, dude,” you tell him in a flat tone, flicking the power button to hide the message.

“Oh, just like you?” he asks, unable to hide the amusement striking his features.

After years of practicing this song and dance with other women, he’s grown accustomed to everyone wanting a piece of this cookie. There’s no way you’re immune, especially after his performance on the ocarina a few months ago. He charmed you before you could sink your teeth into his neck and do the same to him, and now you're mad about it. That’s your category, right? Your spite is obviously a cover for your disappointment.

Unless it isn’t. His conviction wavers as your jaw tightens and you take a swig from the dark bottle on the table. People don’t get close unless they want to get fucked. Literally. But you are Joon’s ‘friend’ and you seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him, at least for a little while. Most people are good at faking the first time, but it’s been a while and you’re still here. What if you’re actually hanging around his friends for all the right reasons? What if you had something other than shallow intentions? What if he actually hurt your feelings? He sinks back in his seat, silently stewing in his assumptions.

You set your phone face down on the table, a forced manic smile settling on Yoongi. “What are we playing?”

The man spreads the cards face down over the table in a circle, placing a single shot in the center. “It’s called the circle of death. There are a bunch of ways to play so I’m just gonna pick my favorites.”

He gets up, taking the magnetic whiteboard off the refrigerator and furiously scribbling notes on its surface. You crane your neck to get a good read, but it’s still fairly challenging to make out his chicken scratch.

“There’s a lot you can pick up after hours at bartending school. I had fun playing this with the other people in my class but it’ll probably be even better with you guys.”

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ  RULES:

A - Face

2 - You

3 - Me

4 - Floor

5 - Jive

6 - Forehead master

7 - Heaven

8 - Hate

9 - Rhyme

10 - Social

J - Never

Q - Eat

K - Rulemaker

Joker - Waterfall

Your eyebrows furrow at the words you can make out. “This seems complicated.”

Yoongi scoffs, setting the board on the counter and leaning it against the wall. “Trust me. It’s not as bad as it seems. Besides this will be right here in case you forget.”

“Does that say eat? Yoongi, what the fuck does that mean?” You tilt your head to the side and try to read the list in its entirety but still at a loss for what it means.

Hoseok scratches his head, equally as stumped by the list.

“I’ll go over the rules once everyone is back at the table. I have a feeling I’ll be repeating them enough once we start.”

You slump in your chair with a pout as you proceed to polish off your beverage. Namjoon returns and sees his spot has been taken.

"Kook," he warns, tapping his friend in the shoulder to try to get him to move over.

Namjoon isn't stupid in the slightest. He may lack common sense at times and he definitely is the clumsiest person in the room, but perception is his strength. What do you get when you add up the subtle glances, the nervous stutters, and shy smiles? Multiply that sum by the times you've tucked your hair behind your ear needlessly, gotten starry-eyed while talking, or claimed a seat nearby. Tallying your distracted behaviors yields a simple answer: a crush.

You don't have to say anything. You never have to say anything because you wear that shame so well. Even subtracting the stunt Jungkook pulled on Halloween and the distance you've put down since then, it's not enough to negate the total. You say you hate him, but those glances are still there. Pressing your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling has become your default defensive tactic. Playing with your hair quickly turns into tugging loose strands back into a ponytail. It’s almost painful to watch. He wonders if anyone else sees it for what it is because Jungkook sure doesn’t.

Staying out of it is tough because he knows both sides. But it’s not his place to spill the tea to either one of you. You’re both his friends and it’s hard not to feel like the mediator that he definitely doesn’t want to be. You’re adults. You can figure your shit out without him to take care of every little thing. Yeah, it would be easier just to do it all for you, but you’ll never learn that way and neither will he. However, that doesn’t mean he can’t drop some caution tape out every once in a while.

Jungkook digs his heels into the floor and huffs. “But I like this seat and you got up so it’s mine now.”

“Joonie, it’s fine.” You manage to keep the irritation out of your voice, talking over the man to your left like he’s not even there. “He’ll get bored eventually. Don’t feed the troll.”

Namjoon shakes his head and takes a seat on the opposite side of Jungkook, grumbling how you’re going to come crying to him later when Jungkook snaps your bra straps or some shit and his friend is gonna end up with a black eye but whatever not his problem. At least that’s the gist of what you get out of your friend’s griping. He may have a point, but you’re not going to acknowledge that. You’re busy looking at the plastic cup full of beer set down in front of you.

You crinkle your nose at Yoongi but he answers before you can ask. “Everyone is drinking the same thing. Even playing field. Not really fair if someone's got more alcohol in their drink."

You catch Taehyung's eyes across the table and mirror his disgusted expression, both of you sticking your tongue out at the liquid.

"Alright. There's only one rule you really need to be worried about in the beginning: my rule to keep you all from getting distracted. If you touch your phone, whoever catches you is allowed to send any message to any contact in it.”

Jungkook grins wickedly at you, noticing the way you drop your mobile device on the table and leave it where it lands face down. Yoongi goes over the rules one by one and gives an example of each being used. Everyone blinks at him stupidly once he gets to the Queen and delivers a deadpan explanation that whoever pulls that card has to eat it. None of you are drunk enough to believe him, so he scribbles the rule out on the whiteboard and writes a question mark instead. He sets the board back in place and continues with his explanation, looking at everyone expectantly.

He points at the board behind him, not bothering to look back at it. "This is here in case you forget what any of the cards mean, but we’ll go slow since there are eight of us.”

A full round around the table and you are all feeling pretty comfortable and giggly. Some of the more tame cards have made their way into the discard pile beside Yoongi.

Jin pulled an eight and made Tae drink until he said stop, which was hilarious and equally terrifying when you realized someone could do the same to you. Luckily the enemy beside you didn’t have the pleasure.

Taehyung pulls a King and tries to make a weird rule that any time a four is played and you’re all scrambling to the floor, the last one to touch the ground has to kiss the feet of the cardholder. When you collectively agree you are not doing that he huffs and makes a rule that for the rest of the game if you have to drink, you have to dirty talk your beer before taking a sip. This rule makes you determined not to lose any rounds.

Laughter erupts from the table when Yoongi calls his drink a filthy little slut before having to take a sip. Hobi is so thrilled when Yoongi pulls a five and starts dancing immediately after that he ended up cackling instead of focusing on the game. He’s less than thrilled about needing to drink after missing the opportunity to dance so he ends up glaring at his drink.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, you filthy bitch? You want me to put my hands around your throat, put my tongue on you and drink up? Alright then.” He coos a ridiculous sound at his cup and guffaws before taking a huge swig.

Jimin covers his eyes and laughs, downing the rest of his drink like it’s water without a thought of whether he was supposed to or not. He gets up to refill his cup as an excuse to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Hobi’s upping the game. Woooooow.” Jin leans back in his chair, mouth agape with wonder before bursting into a squeaky laugh.

You gulp, hoping everyone is too distracted by their own laughter to notice the way your legs clamp together. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the actual. Fuck. Hobi. I gotta text Jennie. She’s not gonna believe this. No, don’t touch your phone. Don’t look at anyone. Just wait for your turn to pick a card.

Hobi pulls a three and has to drink again. “Ah. This slut wants more. Here we go, baby.”

You desperately scan the circle of facedown cards, a smile forcefully smattered on your features. You strain to reach the one you’re trying for. Hoseok slides it towards you with an innocent smile, as though those lips weren’t just spewing absolute filth. “I hope it’s a good one.”

Your eyes drop to the card as you flip it back on the table. Jack. You squint at the board, trying to figure out what “Never” means when Yoongi puts three fingers up.

“Alright, Y/N. This is Never Have I Ever. We all put our fingers up like this. You come up with something you’ve never done and say it out loud. If any of us have done those things,” he pauses and drops a finger so he only has two standing tall, “then we put them down. First one to have no fingers up has to drink.”

Oh no. What haven’t I done? What haven’t I done? The guys all expectantly wait for you to say something. You purse your lips as your mind blanks on every moment you’ve ever experienced.

“Never have I ever…” your mouth is dry. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t think too hard. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but it does have to be true. It’s not fun otherwise. People have different goals. You can use it to learn or you can just try get as many people to drink as possible.”

Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in your head. They’re all men. “Never have I ever peed standing up.”

Everyone around the table puts a finger down. The mirth in Yoongi’s face becomes strained and his eyelids flutter as he sighs. “Careful. There are a lot of cards left and you’re about to make yourself a target.”

You press on anyway. “Never have I ever had sex with a woman.”

A few of them tut in annoyance as they’re all left with one finger up.

Jungkook pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “You’re not living your best life then.”

You furrow your brow while trying to think of another easy thing that could get them all to lose. Tapping your fingers on the table, you make an effort to focus on each one’s concentrated gaze. It comes to you and you filter your bottom lip through your teeth for a moment. Have they...? You’d bet they all have.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you. “Come on, Princess. Just say whatever it is.”

“Never have I ever been to a strip club.”

There’s a collective sigh as their hands drop and they stare at their drinks. You grin like a maniac, taking in the garbled sounds of each one dirty-talking their drinks like it’s a goddamn orgy.

Jungkook looks over at you, making sure he has your attention as he offers an amused smile. “You really haven’t been to Wings?”

You’ve seen signs for that club, hating to admit the ads garnered intrigue. It’s split down the middle, supposedly one side angelic and the other hellish. “Nope. Drink up, Jungkook.”

He maintains eye contact with you, bringing his drink to his lips. “Maybe I can get you to come. Will you give me permission to taste you?” He tilts his head back and makes a show of closing his eyes and slowly slurping his beverage. You narrow your eyes at him before he puts the cup back down. “Delicious. My turn.”

He flips the card. “King. Ooh. My rule. Starting now, every time you say something you have to start with the word hashtag and end with dotcom.”

“Jungkook, that’s so stupid,” you say without thinking.

“Hashtag, drink up Princess, dotcom,” he replies with an impish grin.

You bite your lip and stare at your drink. How could you be so careless? They all lean in, waiting for the words to leave your mouth. You hold your hands up in a T-shape. “Hold up. Time out. Pause the game. I need some clarity. Do I have to say hashtag dotcom thing WHILE talking to my drink?”

Namjoon looses it, laughing like a maniac. “Hashtag, I think you fucking do Y/N dotcom.”

Jungkook just smiles, crossing his arms and waiting for you to continue. God, you fucking hate him. This is the dumbest rule you’ve ever heard. It’s going to get old fast. Still, you stare down at your cup. “Hashtag… Uh… I’m gonna... s-slurp your fluids out now, dotcom?”

Jungkook’s obnoxious laugh is piercing your eardrums as you down a few big gulps. The rest of the table roars with laughter and heat burns your cheeks, not daring to make eye contact with any one of them.

“W-What was that?!” Jin yells. “You sound like an alien! Can I give you some pointers, please?”

“Hashtag, Seokjin! You forgot dotcom!” Jungkook says, pointing to his friend’s cup.

Jin curses under his breath and stares at his cup. “Hashtag, this is how you do it, Y/N.” He focuses on his cup without missing a beat, raising it up to the sky longingly like he’s about to start serenading it. “You wish you could hear me say this every day, don’t you? You love how my mouth feels on you. I can tell by the way you’re dripping for me, my lovely. Dot. Com.” He makes a point to run his tongue along the rim of his cup and takes a sip.

Fuck these guys. But also… Fuck? These guys? You’re one dirty comment away from soaking your panties, but they don’t need to know that.

“Hashtag I’m sorry I’m not a slut like the rest of you. Also Seokjin, you’re a bitch, dotcom,” you grumble, gripping your knees to keep your hands off your phone. Jennie will absolutely scream once you tell her about this night. She’ll be sad she missed out.

Jin’s eyes go wide as though you smacked his ass in front of the world, a smile is taking over the corners of his mouth. “Hashtag, stop trying to flirt with me, dotcom.”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help the shy smile that creeps in. Jungkook sits up straight and sighs dramatically. “Hashtag let’s keep going so we can get the rest of this bread dotcom.”

Jimin pulls a king and has made the rule that hashtag dotcom is abolished. It comes as a relief when you’re a few more rounds in, and everyone has already consumed way more booze than expected because of Jungkook’s rule. An uneventful round of drinking passes before Seokjin pulls the last King out.

“A rule, hmm? Alright. When you ask someone to drink you have to hold their chin, stare longingly into their eyes, and ask them to drink.” He demonstrates, holding Taehyung’s jaw in his fingers. “Like this. Will you please drink for me, my dear friend, Taehyung?”

Tae bashfully giggles waving his hand away. “You’re too much sometimes. I think you need a girlfriend.”

Since it only applies for certain cards, you end up forgetting about it as multiple turns come and go without utilizing it. Your turn rises again and you slide the eight face up across the table. After kicking your chair with his feet for the millionth time, you completely forget about the rule Jin made and pick based on your irritation. Eight is hate indeed.

“Jungkook, go until I say stop.”

The words feel satisfying as they leave your mouth, but Namjoon grimaces, anxiously baring both sets of teeth.

“Uh… You gotta…” Namjoon taps his cheeks twice with his fingertips.

Horror replaces that smug satisfaction in the pit of your stomach and it churns a sickness deep inside that pit.

Jungkook cocks his head at you. “You really wanna put your hands on me that badly, huh?”

You exhale loudly and tightly grip his chin with sweaty, hot fingers. Your eyes threaten to burn holes into his. “Jungkook, go until I say stop.”

He’s stunned into silence for a second, adam��s apple bobbing ever so slightly. He blinks at you a couple times before regaining his composure. Who knew princesses can breathe fire? Grabbing his cup, he grins and chuckles an amused sound even as you’re tearing yourself from him.

“Don’t worry I can go all night when you taste so good, baby,” he says, tilting his head back as he drinks.

You keep an eye on his cup, watching the liquid slowly disappear. You have to be careful not to let him finish, but you kind of want him to suffer a little bit. Even though he drinks like a fish, he’s still not on Jimin’s level. This has to be affecting him somehow. He watches you through an annoyed side-eye when you don’t say a word, not allowed to stop until you say so or until he finishes his drink. Your phone chooses this exact moment to vibrate a long sound against the table and your concentrated gaze wanders for a second too long, allowing him to gulp down the remnants of his drink.

Jungkook slams his empty cup down in time for you to look back at him in horror before looking at your own full cup. The room fills with the sound of everyone “ooooh-ing” like this is the sixth grade. With a heavy sigh, you bring your cup to your lips.

“I was distracted. I would have said stop.”

Jungkook leans his elbow on the table and rests his head on a folded palm. His smile tells you he’s ready to dish it back. “Mmm-hmm. Go on. Oh… Wait.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw in his hands so lightly, like it could disintegrate at the slightest touch. He leans his head back slightly, soft eyes imploring you to move closer. He slides his fingers up your jawline, nestling them behind your ears like he’s about to draw you to his lips. “Will you be good and drink that for me until I ask you to stop?”

Jin scoffs. “Wow. Look at this guy.”

The others hold back their snickers. Your eyebrow twitches, smacking his hands away from you. Instead you focus on the cup in your sweaty palms.

“I can’t wait to feel you… dripping from my mouth,” you whisper to your cup, trying to redeem yourself for earlier and doing your best not to think about how fucking good it felt having Jungkook’s hands wrapped around the sides of your face. You don’t spare a look at any of them as you tilt your head back and start gulping the liquid down.

“Much better,” Yoongi says with a smirk, but you don’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Namjoon smacks his hand to his forehead. “Yeah... I’m gonna need you to dial it back just a bit. I still have to see you at work.”

Jin pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, maybe our Zelda isn’t so bad at this after all.”

Jimin, Taehyung and Hobi all have their elbows on the table, cheeks in their palms as they watch your throat make its swallowing motions. They simultaneously grunt differing words of affirmation. About three quarters through, Jungkook puts his hand on the bottom of your cup.

“Stop.”

Mercy? From Jungkook? You don’t believe it, but you’ve been struggling so you’re kind of grateful. Just as you’re about to put the cup down, he taps the bottom of it, forcing liquid to splash upwards onto your chin. You slap his hand away as he cackles and you wipe your lips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

“What time, sweetheart?” He grins when you glare at him.

“Just pick your fucking card before I strangle you.”

“Kinky. You know, I might let you if you asked nicely.”

You get the pitcher of beer from the fridge and start refilling everyone’s cups. He pulls a card that has him whispering dirty words into the rim of his empty cup, holding it out for you to fill. At least most of the cards seem to be gone now. You hate to admit you’re feeling a bit dizzy and out of sorts, but you reason that it’s just a few more rounds, so maybe you just sip on water after this game is over.

Just as you get back to your seat, Namjoon throws a sheepish grin your way. “Joker.”

“There’s only one of these,” Yoonngi begins, looking around the room to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “Waterfall is when everyone starts drinking and you can’t stop until the person to your right stops. Namjoon can stop whenever he wants, but Jin has to wait until he’s done. Then Taehyung waits until Jin is done. Make sense?”

Normally the waterfall card is played in the opposite direction, but there’s so much tension between you and Jungkook tonight and he’s so used to his friend getting his way with women that he can’t help wanting to give you the edge on him. Everyone nods. The realization dawns on everyone that before this can happen, they all have to do two things per the rules.

One after another the guys ask the person to their left to drink while gripping their chins. It would be a fairly intimate scene if people weren’t giggling every three seconds. Still, your heart damn near skips a beat when Hobi’s slender fingers curl under your jaw, drunkenly pulling you closer to his face than you’ve ever dared to get. Heat builds in your stomach and travels up your chest, spreading across your back and prickling your neck. You hope it doesn’t move into your cheeks.

“You gonna take this drink, Y/N?” he aks, unable to hold the giggles in as he wags your head back and forth in his steady hands.

Oh… He’s fucking gone, isn’t he? “For you? Maybe,” you flirt, rubbing your shoulder against his as you turn away.

Jungkook sits up straight, muscles tensing as you twist your body towards him. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger than you remember. Is he puffing out his chest? You wilt under his irritated stare but are determined not to let it show. You slip your fingers underneath his chin, just barely registering the stubble there. Your slow blink hides the flutter of your eyelashes, alcohol clouding your brain with desire. But damn if the room isn’t still spinning. He flashes you boyish grin when you clap your palm to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Yes?”

“Drink up, buttercup,” you giggle, pinching your fingers closed beneath his jaw.

A choked laugh escapes him. “You should sit this one out. At this rate, you’ll be passed out with your face on the toilet seat in an hour.”

You spin back to your drink with fury in your eyes; if there’s anything you hate more than Jungkook, it’s being told what to do. Especially by Jungkook. I’ll show you, asshole.

Everyone turns to their cups and mutters a few dirty words before Namjoon begins the circle of drinking. One by one the cups come down, everyone seemingly grateful for the person before them showing at least some kind of mercy. You slow your gulping when you realize Jimin is dragging it out in an attempt to annoy Yoongi. Both of them still seem surprisingly sober for the amount they’ve ingested. Maybe they don’t wear their intoxication as easily as the rest of you. Hobi exchanges a worried glance at you, trying to not let it slip that he’s only pretending to down his beverage, but you can tell by the steady level of the liquid in his cup that he’s pretty much ready to tap out.

As soon as Jimin finally pulls his cup back from his lips, Yoongi stops, immediately followed by Hobi. Yoongi is keenly aware of his roommate’s inability to hold down liquor in large quantities. He doesn’t fare much better with beer. Saving his friend means you can be saved too. He looks at you, raising his eyebrows in warning. You spare a fleeting glance in his direction, but it’s long enough to catch his message loud and clear: Don’t be an idiot, Y/N. Don’t go overboard.

But you turn your attention to Jungkook, who is still effortlessly allowing his beverage to slither down his throat. You gulp in segments, a commendable attempt to keep yourself going. Even for all your efforts, booze spills from the corners of your mouth and leaves cold sloppy trails down your neck as you watch Jungkook. He’s not even struggling. Fuck. You finally give up, allowing the cup to smack down on the table with a messy splash.

He keeps going just to spite you, polishing off his drink with a smack of his lips and a satisfied sigh. He rises from his seat, patting your shoulder as he gets himself more to consume. “It’s cute how hard you tried.”

The final round passes and you are ready to strangle Jungkook for the way he keeps knocking his knees against yours. It’s gotten to the point where you’ve moved your chair so close to Hobi’s that he’s put his arm around you, thinking you are just as sleepy as he is. Truth be told you kind of are. The room is a little too spinny for your liking, but you can’t seem to persuade your brain to make your legs get up and get yourself a glass of water.

“You want to nap too?” he whispers, rubbing the eyes he can hardly keep open. “Come here. Let’s sleep together.”

The innocent words make your stomach spin in place but you don’t have time to ruminate on them. Jungkook hooks his ankle around your chair and jerks it back towards him. Furious eyes flicker on him in warning just as Hobi’s cheek slumps over your shoulder and draws your attention away. Luckily Yoongi springs into action to keep his friend from falling any further into your personal space than he already has.

“Okay, Hobi. We get it. You need to sleep,” he chuckles, cradling his friend’s arm around his shoulder as he helps him to his feet.

Hoseok weakly grumbles a sound of acknowledgement as they shuffle down the hall into what you assume is a guest room. Their apartment is bigger than any you’ve seen so you find yourself wondering just how many guest rooms they could possibly have. Then you remind yourself that it doesn’t matter because you are definitely not staying because getting an uber is always an option.

When Yoongi returns alone, people have started migrating into the living room. Jungkook and Jin are still seated, heatedly talking about some game nearby, but you’ve elected to ignore them in favor of checking your messages. Jason has sent you a few messages that have piqued your interest, including one finally asking you on a date. Does ignoring guys really fucking work? Was Namjoon right about something in his life? You don’t want to believe it.

The words in Jason’s message blur together, despite how hard you’re concentrating on them. You’d told him you were out with friends. He must have known you’d be relatively unavailable so maybe it’s okay that you’re in no shape to formulate a coherent response. Still you stare at the keyboard, jumping when an arm reaches over you to place a glass of water on the table for you.

You blink a few times at Yoongi, who simply whispers a gruff “drink” before grabbing the shot left in the center of the table and downing it as he joins the majority of his friends in the other room. Jungkook looks over at you, eyes dropping to your open conversation when you absentmindedly set your phone down. You take the cold glass in both hands and narrow your eyes in Yoongi’s direction as you swallow down a good portion of the liquid.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It’s been an hour and if you’re honest you’ve just barely teetered back into the moderately drunk category. Yoongi had offered to take you home when he was getting ready to leave since he was already chauffeuring Namjoon. At the time you declined because you were certain that your natural predisposition to motion sickness would be amplified by the liquor in your system. You didn’t want to make Yoongi’s new car smell like puke. Namjoon has this habit of texting when he’s worried. Even after he left you’d been going back and forth about the night. Honestly it’s kind of helping keep you from passing out and you’re reminded how grateful you are for his friendship.

Sitting on the couch next to Jimin may have also influenced your decision since the man literally smells how vacations feel — and god do you need to relax. He’s also acted as a barrier between you and Jungkook, who has his legs stretched out across the cushions to Jimin’s right. Jungkook has been engrossed in his phone since you left the table, opting out of switching off with Taehyung when he dies in-game. You’re kind of thankful for it. Maybe he’s finally settled down for the night. Does he get more polite with drowsiness?

Jimin smiles softly at you, his arms draped over the back of the couch. The pair of you have been quietly conversing and giggling over the platformer Seokjin and Taehyung have been playing. Jimin’s face still looks a little flush with alcohol, but he only just finished his last beverage for the night. How the hell can someone so tiny pack away so much liquor? You hold in a shiver as his fingertips playfully dance along your shoulder, trying not to let on how the action affects you. His harmless flirting only bolsters confidence hiding in the depths of your mind and you stretch your arms up with a yawn and lean against him, knowingly giving him a better view of the cleavage poking out from beneath the v-cut of your shirt.

Jimin allows a devilish smile to curl at his lips as his fingers walk down your arm. He puts both hands back on the couch, like you’d made the move unprompted by his touching. “Hmm. You’re pretty bold, aren’t you?” His whisper is low and breathy, so quiet you almost miss it. What a tease.

“Hey. Jimin. Come here.”

The unusually quiet Jungkook knocks his foot against his friends knee, which pushes Jimin’s thigh up against yours. You softly sigh at the contact and the subsequent loss when Jungkook sits up and Jimin apologetically scoots away. You plant an elbow on the armrest beside you and prop your cheek up on your palm. Seokjin is carrying Taehyung through this level it seems.

“Do you think I should tap that?” The words are loud enough to distract you so you can’t help but turn your head in their direction.

“I think she might be out of your league,” Jimin giggles. “Besides she’s older than you. I thought that bothered you?”

“Oh. No way. I love it. When they have more experience I don’t have to work as hard,” he replies with a lofty sigh.

“Are you sure about that in this case? You’re very presumptuous.”

Your blood heats up the back of your neck. Why are men so disgusting? You grit your teeth, unable to hold in the sound of disgust that makes its way through them.

Jungkook’s head snaps up and he locks eyes with you. There’s something smug about his expression, like he’s stupidly proud of pulling that reaction from you. “Aw, are you feeling left out, princess? Here, see for yourself. Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

When he flips his screen around your own profile is staring back at you. Straightening your spine and reaching across Jimin’s lap for him, you hiss, “Jungkook, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Why?” He tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion and looks at the profile again. “I think she’s pretty hot.”

“If you match with me, I will not swipe right on you. You know that, right? So this whole thing is pointless,” you reason, more for yourself than the two men beside you. “You’re not gonna get to me. It’s not gonna fucking work, Jungkook.”

Jimin’s shoulders tremble with soft, mellifluous laughter that spills from his lips as he takes in the exchange. It’s apparent that Jungkook has already gotten under your skin. Denying it is only making you angrier.

“Fine. Fine. It’s gone now, see,” Jungkook says, briefly flashing you the home screen of his phone before putting it away. The image of that big tiddy anime girl behind all those icons is going to haunt your dreams; you can feel it.

You get up to get yourself more water. “I hate you so much.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It’s late. Seokjin left a few minutes ago and Jimin rubs his eyes, unsure what to do. The selfish part of his brain tells him he should claim the other guest room. The horny part of his brain tells him he should suggest you share with him. The exhausted part of his brain tells him to just pass out in Taehyung’s bed and let him figure it out.

“You’re welcome to stay, too. We have room for you,” Taehyung says with a kind smile. “There’s another guest room.”

You still don’t feel well enough to drive or sit in a cab. You sit with your hands folded in your lap, pondering your shitty life choices. You’ve become pretty good friends, but a sleepover seems a bit strange without your bestie Namjoon to buffer out all of the awkward moments.

You smile as sweetly as you can manage, your voice small and borderline whiny in its need for sleep. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to be a bother. Thank you, Taehyung.”

The man rolls his eyes. “I won’t allow you to sleep on a couch when we have beds.”

“Your couch is comfier than my actual bed,” you joke, patting the plush cushions on either side of you.

Jungkook walks in, shirtless and scrubbing a toothbrush furiously in his mouth. He tries to speak but it’s unintelligible, so he turns back around to finish up.

“It’s really okay. I should stay up and finish my water anyway and I don’t want to keep you guys up. I drank a little too much.”

“No shit,” Jungkook sighs as he rounds the corner and leans against the wall. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay up with you, Princess.”

Taehyung flashes his friend a pointed look and opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when Jungkook continues.

“You guys go on. I’ll make sure she drinks up her water and gets to bed.”

You glare at him as Taehyung moves in to whisper something to him, but you lose focus as Jimin pulls you into a tight hug that you can’t help but return.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he mumbles into the fabric of your hoodie. “I’m glad you’re a part of our family.”

You squeeze his shoulder before he shuffles down the hall and disappears into the bathroom. “Goodnight, Y/N!”

Taehyung offers a boxy smile and a small wave, demeanor changed after his side conversation with Jungkook. “Don’t take off without having breakfast. Seokjin will come back and make something tasty. Also I put your keys in my studio so good luck finding them if you try.”

You half laugh, half scoff. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight,” he says, passing Jungkook a tight lipped smile on his way down the hall.

Jungkook waits until he hears the door close before he speaks and for the first time since you met him, his tone borderlines concerned. “Be honest with me. How sick are you right now?”

Your throat swallows down a thick mass of air. “I’m fine.”

“Tch. Okay, Princess,” he scoffs in disbelief, taking slow steps towards you with his hands buried in the pockets of his black sweatpants. “Do you need a bucket?”

“No.” You drink down your water, trying to focus on anything but the way your body is producing enough sweat to make you want to discard your hoodie as soon as he leaves you alone.

A door opens down the hall and Jimin shuffles out before disappearing into another room. The quiet click of the door closing causes Jungkook to sigh. 

Spinning. The room is spinning again. You hold the cold glass in your hands like it’s your lifeline, shut your eyes and throw your head back to rest it against the couch. You don’t notice when he leaves, but you definitely notice the cold cloth pressed to your forehead when he returns.

“Do you want comfier clothes?” he quietly asks, voice bereft of any humor as he sinks into the cushion beside you.

You open your eyes and glare at him like this is some prank he’s playing on you but you’re not sure how. “No.”

He rolls his eyes. “Suit yourself. I get hella hot when I’m drunk off my ass. Figured I’d ask.”

“I’m not...” you begin, trying to bring your head to rise. It feels heavy and plops back down on the seat.

“You’re drunk,” he states plainly. “And miserable. So drink up the rest of the water and I’ll show you to the guest room. It’ll be embarrassing if any of my friends wake up to you looking so pathetic. Come on.”

He helps you bring the cup to your lips and tilts your head forward enough to safely consume the rest of the water in your glass.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“If you think this is what nice guys are like, I feel bad for you.” He puts the glass down in the kitchen sink, briefly rinsing it.

“Jungkook,” you whine, an exasperated sigh passing your lips with his name.

“What? Your judgement of character is way outta whack. It’s just sad,” he explains, crossing the room while rubbing fresh lotion up his arms. Washing dishes makes his skin feel itchy.

“Alright. Come on. Up.” He waves his arms lets them weakly smack his thighs when you don’t move.

A whiff of sweet peaches and soft jasmine pervades your nostrils. Why does he have to smell so fucking good? He removes the cool cloth from your forehead, earning a whine from you.

“You’ll get a new one when you get in bed. I can carry you, if that’s easier.”

“Tell me why you’re doing this. I don’t get it. What do you want?”

“I want to go to sleep so I can be lazy tomorrow and do nothing but play video games.” When you don’t budge he sighs and sits down beside you again. “And... because... you’re Namjoon’s friend and he asked us to look out for you... And now you’re all of my friends’ friend… And I guess that makes you my responsibility.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting you to just decide you’re gonna be nice out of the blue,” you weakly smirk and let your head roll to the side so you can look at him. “Should have known it was Namjoon.

He hums an amused sound. “Yeah. Now are you going to let me get you in bed?”

You’re able to force your head up at that. “I can get myself in bed just fine thanks.”

He laughs. “Your loss.”

You stand on unsteady legs. “Where am I going?”

Jungkook grins, entertained by your lack of coordination. “That’s a good question. Where are you going, Princess?”

You stumble a bit, reaching out to steady yourself with a wall that is definitely too far to grab. Long, tattooed fingers grip your shoulders in an instant. The heat of his massive chest presses against your shoulder blades. Even through your layers of clothing you can feel how hot his skin burns and it makes you shiver, despite the way you’re soaked with sweat.

“Don’t make me ask you for help,” you plead. “Please don’t.”

“Do you want me to pretend like you didn’t beg for it, too?” he whispers, curling a muscular bicep around your back and guiding you down the hall. As he passes the thermostat, he makes a point to lower the temperature a few degrees. Jimin, Hobi, and Tae will survive. But then again, he’s not worried about them at all, is he?

“Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?” You voice cracks and you’re barely managing to hold back the tears threatening to spill out.

He doesn’t say a word as you cling to the strength of his body, looping your arms around his neck and waist as though he isn’t the last person in the world you want to tangle yourself in. He pushes the door to his room open with his shoulder, making sure you get across the threshold okay before helping you awkwardly waddle over to the unmade bed. You don’t seem to notice, and if you do, you definitely don’t comment.

Your hoodie is falling from your shoulders as you climb onto the mattress. Jungkook grabs the fabric and slings it over his shoulder. You’ve landed at a weird angle across the pillows and show no signs of correcting your position so he moves the pillows beneath your head to comfortably accommodate you. You slowly blink at him, but you’re not seeing him. Silent tears rolling down your cheeks as he grabs the thinnest sheet on his bed and pulls it over your form up to your shoulders. He chooses to ignore the way you quickly swipe them away and instead goes to get the cold towel he promised.

Standing in the sink with ice cold water running over the cloth in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into the air around him, knowing no one will ever hear it.

When he returns he waits a moment, looking for the steady rise and fall of your chest. He smooths the hair from your face before pressing the cold cloth against your sweaty forehead, turning your head to the side just in case your body decides it isn’t quite ready to rest. He lightly pats your head a couple times and leaves the room, delicately closing the door behind him.

As he makes the journey back to the couch, he feeds his arms through the sleeves of your hoodie. He settles down on the couch, feeling the warmth of the space you’d been occupying all night beneath his head. Pulling down the blanket from atop the back of the couch, he brings his knees to his chest. He bunches the soft, excess material of your hoodie in his palms and turns his head into the fabric, allowing himself a subtle inhale.

Why do you have to smell so fucking good?

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 14)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2710

Warnings: fighting, violence, wounds, torture, abuse

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​.

The next morning, bright and early, I left the castle, alone. This time, I didn't mind. I had plans that would require me to travel without a companion. Gellert may not want answers or retaliation for the spy in our ranks, but I felt like we did. 

I made my way to a shop in town. The shop was known for custom items. 

“What can I do for you, miss?” a gray haired man asked from behind the counter. 

“I need a portkey, to Hogsmeade in London, immediately,” I informed, my tone serious and dire. “Thank you,” I tacked on with a silky smooth smile. 

“Alright. There will be an extra charge for a rush order,” he said slowly, as if that would deter me.

“I can manage any extra fee,” I confirmed.

He nodded and went away to the back to grab an item. “Will any item do?” he called up front.

“Yes! The smaller the better though!”

After five minutes, he returned with a glass orb, nothing special about it. It was a small, clear orb, small enough to slip into a purse. 

“This do ya?” 

“Perfect.” 

He charmed it and handed it to me, ringing it up. The price was heftier than expected, but I needed to do this. I left as just as the sun had finished rising over the horizon. I knew Gellert said I didn’t need to do more, but this felt right. At the very least, I could get Albus Dumbledore to listen to me. I could throw him our pitch. A man of his talents, his wisdom, he would be all we needed to unlock this world. 

He and I got along famously when I was a student, often providing me private study lessons, mainly because the material in class was so far behind me. He taught me advanced lessons and we became friends, I felt. Perhaps he would listen to me. 

I arrived at Hogsmeade and made haste to get to the entrance of the school. Once I landed there, I breathed in the air, remembering how much I loved it here. I walked up the steep hill to the entrance, greeted by a groundskeeper who asked what my business was. He clearly didn’t recognize me, because he didn’t say my name. I wondered if this was a good thing. Once I told him I was here to see Professor Dumbledore, he gave me a suspicious look but let me by. I bobbed my head and walked past him and up the stairs to the last office I knew Dumbledore to keep. 

I was in luck when I found his classroom empty, and him behind the desk. 

“Professor?” I softly said, my voice almost going childlike. Funny how old habits are hard to kick. I was a grown woman now, about to be a bride, and here I was, speaking to Professor Dumbledore as if he still held some power over my head. 

His back was to me when I opened the door. He was speaking softly before he stopped quickly. “Yes?” he asked before turning around. When he did, though, his eyes went wide before a soft smile pulled at his lips. “Rosaline Vaughan, is that you?” he questioned before standing to round the desk. 

I fully entered the room, closing the door behind me as I did so. “It’s me,” I assured with a grin. I wasn’t here on bad terms, contrary to what it might’ve looked like on the outside. Yes, a spy was sent to us. Yes, Dumbledore betrayed Gellert, but something in me kept me from being furious with him. He was as old a friend as any of mine, and this was nothing more than a causal social call. 

“You… you’re all grown up,” he stated with mystified eyes. 

I nodded. 

“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he questioned quickly, still grinning, warmth radiating off of him. 

“I thought I would just… come and see you,” I half lied, feeling bad for it. “Actually,” I began again, already correcting it, “I know about Joshua, the spy,” I admitted.

He bobbed his head, his jaw opening to speak but then he snapped it shut. 

“It was clever. I’m afraid Gellert was a bit privy to it, though,” I informed, no malice or threat in my voice. 

“So you’re here to… what? Exact revenge?” 

“I take it you know about the engagement?” I wondered. 

At this, he turned and began slowly walking back to his desk. I followed. 

“I do,” he admitted. “I can honestly say I’m surprised. You and Grindelwald… He’s older than you. He’s my age,” he stated, as if I didn’t know. He reached his desk, leaning on it, his hands gripping the edges.

“Yes, I know,” I responded with a gentle smile. 

“I’m not your father, I can’t and won’t judge you for your choice of companion. But I must admit I was shocked when I read the announcement in the paper.” 

I laughed lightly. Of course he would. “I… I don’t know what to say except I love him and he shows me care and concern that most people have failed at.” 

“A word of advice?” he suddenly offered, leaning forward a bit, peering at me. 

I bobbed my head. 

“He does that. He targets weak spots for people, and nurtures them. I know you’re smart. Clever. I know you would see past any sort of manipulation.” 

My throat became tight as I peered at him. 

“However, if this is real, then I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he assured with a star-studded smile. 

“Thank you.”

“Is it just you then? Grindelwald isn’t with you?”

I shook my head. “No, no he isn’t. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I wanted to see you on my own.” 

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one, to discuss why you sent a snitch our way. Secondly, to discuss you joining us.” 

His eyes blew wide as he leaned farther forward, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. 

“You can’t be serious. Me? Join Grindelwald?” 

I peered at him, my expression entirely serious. “Why not?” I went to lean on the desk beside him. “Come on, Professor. With your wisdom, your power, your talent… Next to Gellert and I, we will rule this world.” 

“Is that what you’re after now? When I taught you, all you wanted to do was make the world a better place. Did he change that?” 

“I still do want to make the world a better place,” I retorted, my voice hard. 

“By killing hundreds of our own kind?” he remarked incredulously. 

“We want peace, that’s all. We don’t want to hurt wizards, witches, or muggles. You don’t understand what he wants. You’ve been misinformed,” I tried with my usual sugary voice.

He shoved off the table. “Rosaline, I know him. I know him better than anyone else in the world. He is using you. He is manipulating you. What Gellert Grindelwald wants and what I want are two vastly different things.” 

“Don’t you want to come out of hiding?” I implored. “Instead of being holed up inside this school? You could be so much more. You are so much more. You possess greatness, and you’re squandering it.” 

“Is that how you felt when you left the Ministry?” he fired at me.

“You kept tabs on me?” 

“Of course. My brightest student? The only one who could out-duel me? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Afraid I’d turn dark?”

“No, I wanted to see how you would take your power and make this world better. When you were running for office, I was proud of you.” 

“And when I left?” 

A subdued smile came over his face before he looked down at the floor, then back up at me. “Even prouder. I heard you went to work with Newt, to help with his creatures. I knew you would do splendidly.” 

I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks. “Thank you, Professor. That means a great deal to me,” I admitted. “But I take it from your distaste for our cause, that you won’t be joining us?” 

With his hands in his pockets, he peered up at me. “No, Rosaline, I can’t.” 

“Are you sure though?” I stressed. “Imagine a world where we are rightfully at the top of the food chain, where we belong, where you belong. You, out of everyone should know the frustration of hiding.” 

“It does not bother me one bit to live where muggles don’t know we exist. It’s easier this way, Rosaline, you know that. You know if we became common knowledge it would be utter chaos.” 

“Would it though?” I challenged. “Think about if we got the muggles… in their place, so to speak.” 

“Rosaline--” 

At that moment, the door flew open, where Gellert stormed in, his dark coat flying around him. He was flanked by two people -- Vinda and Abernathy. His face was the fiercest, most dangerous I’d ever seen. His stormy eyes found mine quickly and a boulder of guilt formed in my gut. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded in a chilled tone.

I was too scared to answer. I knew how this looked, and I knew it looked bad.

“Answer me, Rosaline!” he barked and I complied.

“I came to see Dumbledore to talk to him about the spy and about recruiting him.” 

His eyes flashed from mine to the man behind me. “You will do no such thing,” he ordered and my head hung. 

“Yes, Gellert,” I acquiesced in a hushed tone. 

Gellert made his way over to me quickly, grabbing my upper arm roughly. “You will never leave the castle unattended again. Is that understood? I had no idea where you were, if you were hurt. You had me worried sick.” With that, he tugged on my arm, making me stumble forward to keep up with his long strides.

“Grindelwald, don’t hurt her! We were only talking!” Dumbledore called after him, taking a few strides forward, readying himself to protect me.

“I will deal with you when I’m done with her,” he called over his shoulder. “I can’t believe I find you here, consorting with my enemy, our enemy, after he sent a spy--”

“I was trying to find out about the spy,” I informed as he pulled me along. “I wasn’t here to betray you, my beloved, I swear. I was just talking with him.” 

“You expect me to believe that, after the conversation we had two nights ago?” he challenged lightly once he stopped, standing near Vinda and Abernathy. “You could’ve very well risked our entire--” 

Out of nowhere, a group of people barged into the room. Nora, Newt, Theseus, Tina, and two other aurors I did not recognize. 

“Nora?” I breathed in shock as I stared at her. 

Her eyes went straight to me, and Gellert’s hand on my arm. He immediately let me go and then smirked. Nora’s eyes flashed with fury, drawing her wand. Before I could think, my wand was out like a reflex. She shot a jinx at Gellert and I deflected it. Her expression morphed into utter shock. 

“Rosaline, I don’t want to hurt you. Come with us,” she encouraged, glancing to Gellert beside me. 

“No,” I said defiantly, lifting my chin as I stood my ground. “I’m staying here.” 

“You don’t want to stay here. I don’t know what he’s done to you but the Rosaline I know would never be with a man like him,” she urged. 

Gellert smiled at my side, speaking to my cousin. “You see, Ms. Vaughan? Rosaline chooses us. Now, can’t you respect that choice?”

As if someone lit a fuse in her, she snapped, trying to throw a spell towards Gellert but I moved in front of him protectively, deflecting the spell. My veins were lit with fire, my face a mask of beautiful rage. 

In the blink of an eye, I lifted my wand again and tried to stun her but she deflected it. She shot a slicing spell back at me, but I dodged it. Three more shots flew between us before she suddenly retrained her sights. 

Gellert smirked from behind me, pulling my long blonde locks behind my shoulder as he bent down slightly, his lips pressed to my ear. His eyes were locked forward on my opponents when he said, “End them.” 

I nodded, understanding the command completely, and I unleashed an onslaught of spells and charms within seconds. I disarmed the unknown men first, knocking their wands across the room. My sights were now set on Tina, throwing an “Expulso” her way quickly, sending her flying into the brick wall. She fell to the floor in a moaning heap. For some reason, this gave me immense pleasure. 

Theseus and Newt tried to throw a paralytic and expelliarmus charm my way, but I danced effortlessly away from them before sending Everte Statum at Theseus. He fell back and gripped his chest, pain lancing through him. 

Now it was down to Nora and Newt. 

The entire time, Gellert and my friends watched on in adoration, not lifting a finger to help, because I didn’t need it. 

“What’s the matter, Scamander?” Gellert began to tease Newt. “You had the power to reveal me, but not to attack the woman whose heart you broke?” 

Newt said nothing, his wand drawn. He seemed torn, unsure what to say or do. 

“I let you live last time, this time your outcome won’t be as fortunate,” he informed as he took a step around me and raised his wand. My gut involuntarily lurched as I watched him inflict a Crucio curse on him. Newt fell to the floor immediately, screaming from agony. I couldn’t watch. For the life of me, I didn’t know why. What could I possibly feel for this man that would make me unable to watch?

“Grindelwald, that’s enough!” Dumbledore shouted as he raced forward and stood in front of Gellert. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” He shoved his hands in his chest, breaking the focus and his spell. 

“They’ve stopped me for the last time, Albus,” he informed darkly, getting nose to nose with Dumbledore. 

As if I were in a daze, I didn’t notice how Vinda and Abernathy tried to fight Nora, Theseus, and Tina who had all recovered from their wounds. Newt was still on the floor, gasping for air. My eyes only watched Gellert who was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Dumbledore. Magic, spells, jinxes flew across the classroom, lighting it up before suddenly I looked up and I was surrounded. I raised my wand, still in a daze, moving automatically, without thought. That was my downfall, because Nora disarmed me, rather easily. I’d never been disarmed during a duel. 

Nora threw a Confundo charm at Vinda and Abernathy, making them stop their onslaught completely. 

“Go! Go now!” Dumbledore pressed. “Get to my office!” 

My arms were being grabbed by Theseus and Newt to be forced into the office. Nora slammed the door behind all of us and locked it before we heard shouting. I heard Gellert trying to spell the door open, and suddenly I snapped out of whatever I was doing.

“What the… Let me go!” I screamed, fighting them. I went to aim my wand, only to find my wand was no longer in my hand. My frenzied eyes searched the room, and saw Tina had it. I clawed and fought my two captors. “Gellert!” I screamed as loud as my voice would go. “Unhand me!” I shouted, fighting until Nora finally turned and charmed me. 

“Immobulus,” she firmly stated.

My body and mouth instantly stopped moving, but inside I was still thrashing around in my head. 

Nora looked to the fireplace and inspected it. Meanwhile outside, the shouts and the attempts at the door had seemed to stop, making me worry for Gellert.

“It’s connected to the floo network,” she informed. 

“Do we use that?” Theseus questioned.

“What choice do we have?”

“Right.” 

With that, Nora charmed me once more with “Mobilicorpus” and she put me in the fireplace next to her. She grabbed my hand, and said her address loud and clear, and we were off, down the floo network.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 4.6K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Greg receives some answers, Bismuth faces her consequences, and Steven really needs to go to bed.

First | Last chapter

While I’m cross posting all of these to tumblr, I’d love to have your support over on AO3 too! Plus, it’s easier to subscribe there. A win-win, I’d say. Excitingly, this is the longest chapter yet.

Chapter 5: Onward

“So… hold on,” Greg says slowly, raising his hand to cut off the others’ incessant yammering. “Just lemme- let me take a moment to see if I can properly wrap my head around everything. So you’re saying that—“

He turns on the one they identified as Bismuth, pointing at her with such ferocity that his finger might as well be a— what did they call it again? Oh, yes!— a ‘breaking point’ itself.

“—that she tried to kill my son by smashing his gem?”

“Mmmhmm,” Garnet nods.

As usual her eyes are entirely hidden behind her opaque visor, something that always made getting to know the Gem particularly daunting in those early days, but by now he’s close enough to infer her full disposition from her body language and tone alone. And as far as he can tell from the clipped words and stiff movements, she’s pissed. The full brunt of her anger is thankfully restrained… he imagines for Steven’s sake. He hugs his son closer, the boy currently nestled against his midsection and sitting on the fountain’s rim. Garnet sits on his other side, with Amethyst next to Steven. Pearl, meanwhile, kneels on the ground holding a surprisingly deep-cut gemstone in her lap, the very gemstone that by all rights should be embedded in his son’s navel but currently isn’t. He frowns and tugs at his hair (a bad habit of his, over the decades), finding his thoughts growing more and more fragmented over this by the second.

“But she only tried to kill him because she thought he was Rose… who bubbled her thousands of years ago because she wanted her to shatter Pink Diamond. But then Rose actually was Pink Diamond… all along? And somehow fake shattered herself?”

“Yup, that’s pretty much it,” Steven says with a faint laugh, no amount of falsified cheer able to conceal the conflict brewing within him. Greg watches him clutch at the bottom hem of his shirt, and his heart nearly shatters right there on its own. His boy’s grown worryingly savvy as of late, plastering on a brave face whenever he thinks the others can’t handle the full burden of a child’s stress. He probably assumes he’s getting away with it, too. His mistake. One of the many things fathers grow attuned to over the years is the habits and facial tics of their children. All that said, if this is troubling for him, he can’t begin to imagine how traumatic and confusing this upheaval is for Steven.

God, and he’s only fourteen! He shouldn’t have to deal with any of Rose’s war fallout.

“And then,” Greg continues, gesturing between his son and the pink gem Pearl holds, “before she could actually kill him he split in two?”

“It was almost like he abruptly unfused,” Bismuth supplies, maintaining a healthy distance from the rest of the group.

“But it didn’t feel like fusion at all,” Steven says, and shudders. “It hurt, it hurt really bad.”

“He was unconscious for at least a minute. The half with the gem, the pink one, started screaming and tried to fight me away from him but I knew I had to get him off the forge’s surface so he didn’t burn.” The rainbow haired Gem hangs her head in shame. “I was so worried he wouldn’t wake up ‘coz of me.”

“Yeah, sure ya’ were,” Amethyst spits, and crosses her arms.

Pearl’s eyes narrow with a precise intensity. “Amethyst, please. Not now.”

Contrary to whatever assumptions on her he held before, Bismuth shows no inclination to argue in any vain hope of saving face. Instead she stands stiff before the group, appearing just as haunted by the consequences of her actions as Steven is. While the back-and-forth between her and the Crystal Gems continues, her fingers twitch, desperately yearning for something to tinker with. As someone who frequently seeks out the reliable comfort of strumming improvised chords on his guitar in times of stress, he can relate. Of course, far be it for him to excuse this new Gem’s actions when they almost cost him his only son, but at least she has the decency to express remorse over it. He’s furious at her, he truly is, and yet… He also can’t help but feel a twinge of pity lighten his heart upon hearing her side of the story. Huh, funny. Normally he’s more apt to harbor a stone cold grudge over this sort of stuff. He blames his kid’s influence.

“I was angry at Rose, not Steven,” Bismuth says as he tunes back in to the conversation. “I was so sure that this was all just another one of her lies that I— well, you all know. But when I saw what I’d done…. When they split apart and he fell to the ground, I—!”

Her voice cracks, and he watches her nearly crumble like chalk.

“I- I made a terrible mistake, and I’m genuinely sorry,” she finishes.

“‘Kay, so you’re super sorry and promise never to hurt him again, we get it,” Amethyst says, blunt sarcasm oozing from her words. “But seriously, is no one gonna address the ginormous cluster hangin’ over our heads? Y’guys! New headline! We just found out Rose was a total sham!”

Steven holds up a finger as he interjects. “Actually, we don’t know anything except that she was apparently Pink Diamond, but…”

“Yeah, and Pink D’s like, the bad guy, Steven! She’s the reason they had to fight this whole stupid war in the first place! And then, what? She creates you just so she doesn’t have to deal with the fact she’s a liar?”

The young teen shrinks away from her anger, a lump forming in his throat. Greg’s jaw clenches. His hand tightens around his son’s midsection.

“None of this is Steven’s fault,” Garnet says quietly, firmly placing her sapphire laden hand on the purple Gem’s shoulder to quiet her down. She shrugs away at her touch, lips jutting into a pout.

“Or any of yours’," Pearl says.

Greg’s eyes lock on the slender Gem at her abrupt comment, and he watches with apt attention as her thumb glides across the largest facet of the diamond in her lap. Hearing her voice comes as a surprise, as she’s been unusually absent from this conversation thus far. It seems none of the others want to talk about it in depth right now, but apparently she’s forbidden from mentioning anything about Pink Diamond. It’s yet another betrayal, yet another reason why the sight of the rose blossoms growing wild around them and the delicately carved curly-haired statue at the fountain’s center leaves him with uncertainty gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

And yet… and yet.

What if he’s being a hypocrite about all of this? It’s not like he told Rose everything about his past, either. Rose was a diamond, sure, but— he’s a DeMayo. There’s a number of dark days attached to that name he’d rather let die in the past too. Are they really entitled to the full narrative of the life she left behind? Is anyone?

He scratches at his scalp. “Listen, Amethyst. I understand all of you are upset, and rightfully so. I can’t exactly say I’m thrilled to hear all of this either. But the bottom line is… I know the woman I loved. Maybe not for long, but I grew to know her in ways far more intimate than even some of you. And if there’s one thing I can say for absolute certainty, it’s that… despite her mistakes, despite everything else she probably lied about, her love and respect for all of you was not a sham.”

Pearl nods. “I almost can’t believe I’m agreeing with Greg of all people, but he’s right.”

“And you’re entitled to believe that,” Garnet says evenly. “But no matter what we believe, I still think it’s wise to try not to make assumptions about her in the first place. Either good, or bad. At this point, what we know is what we know, and I can’t see any easy way of changing that in the near future.”

“So, what are we supposed to do about all this now?” Amethyst asks, all her earlier anger dissipated in her exhaustion.

She considers this for a second, visor glinting in the glow of sunrise.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

The fusion doesn’t budge an inch. “We don’t change our tactics.”

“But- but if she was our leader, and we always just blindly followed what she wanted, then—“

“No matter her original intentions, the Crystal Gems, as a movement, is far bigger than one diamond,” she says. “We move onward. We thrive. Never mind Rose.”

Steven squirms in his embrace, and in a small, timid voice— a jarring reminder of the child he still is despite his recent leap in emotional maturity— asks the question he’s sure has been weighing on him ever since he got split apart in the first place.

“What about me, and my—“ he tries and fails to stifle a yawn— “my gem? What am I supposed to do now?”

“We’ll deal with your Gem half when he reforms, and he will,” Garnet says gently. “But right now, you need your rest. We all do. Pearl, Amethyst, help him to the temple and get him tucked into bed. Bismuth, Greg. I need to speak to both of you.”

Everyone nods at the Crystal Gem leader’s directions, and they all act accordingly. His eyes drooping just as much as his son’s despite the pink tinted skies and chirping meadowlarks, Greg helps him stand to his feet. Steven’s knees still quiver but thankfully this time he doesn’t crumple. Pearl loops one of her arms through his, still holding his gem in her opposing hand, and together they begin to plod towards the warp pad they arrived earlier. Amethyst follows them but notably lags behind, guilt written across her face clear as day. She delivers one final glance at Bismuth, razor sharp and flaring with hurt, and then disappears in the orchard’s shadow.

A palpable silence brews between the two remaining Gems then, uncomfortable enough that he’s almost left with sweat beading on his brow just watching them. Eventually doing so becomes too stressful, and he moves to retrieve the downy comforter that’s long since been forgotten on the stone midway to the fountain. He folds the bedding as compact as he can, and drapes it over his non dominant arm, distantly acknowledging that it’ll have to go in the wash. He wishes he could’ve gone home with Steven too. What does she need a human like him for right now, anyways? He’s no fighter, or mediator. The cool grey one blows a nervous puff of air from between her lips and wraps her hands around a few strands of her rainbow dreads. Garnet‘s expression twists into a frown. Stepping towards her, she crosses her arms.

“Bismuth…”

“If you’re going to bubble me away again, just say it,” she blurts out, hanging her head in resignation.

Ever so subtly, Garnet tilts her head as if caught off guard by the visceral hurt pooling in the other Gem's words. In any case, her tone remains steady.

“We’re not bubbling you.”

“What? You’re—?”

“It was avoidable miscommunication that led to that the first time. I won’t let that happen again, especially not to a friend. However,” she says, holding up a finger before the other Gem can interject, “as consequence for striking a fellow Crystal Gem in cold blood, until further notice you are no longer welcome in the temple. You will not seek us out. You will in no circumstance find yourself alone with Steven. If we require your help and you are willing, we’ll call for it. But for now, until we’re ready to begin to forgive, you’re on your own.”

Bismuth’s gaze turns up towards her once more, sober in silent acceptance. She blinks rapidly to stave away the tears, and her lips press together tight. Greg’s unsure if the emotion she’s desperately barring away is remorse about her exile or shell shocked relief that she won’t be bubbled away for another five millennia.

“I encourage you to explore this planet as you reflect upon your actions,” Garnet continues. “I think you’ll find a lot has changed since the rebellion… and I think that with time, so can we all.”

“Am I relieved now?” she asks, voice thick and wavering.

She regards her with a long, searching look as she deliberates. “Yes. You may go.”

At first Bismuth spins on her heels, making to leave, but apparently something else stirs on her soul because she pauses. Taking a deep breath, she whirls back around to face the fusion.

“I know this probably doesn’t count for much after all that happened, but. I truly am sorry, for everything.” She turns to regard him directly, her gaze piercing but sincere. “Tell Steven that I hope he can forgive me one day.” And, to the other Gem: “And tell Pearl I’m sorry for what she had to go through, with Pink.”

“I will.”

“Take care of them, would you? Yourself, too.”

Garnet nods. Perhaps as a final sign of goodwill between old war comrades, she offers her hand. The way she does leaves the sapphire on her palm fully exposed. Greg bets it’s a powerful and evocative gesture to a Gem who is being punished for almost shattering another. It’s a salve, an acknowledgement that you can become better, and I trust that you already are.

Bismuth links her broad fingers between hers, and exhales shakily. “Goodbye, old friend. I hope I’ll see you again one day. And hey, if any of you ever… bismuth me,” she jokes with a weak laugh, “you know where I’ll be.”

She gives her hand a gentle squeeze, and then breaks away. Her eyes can’t quite meet theirs.

“Go in peace,” Garnet says.

Greg and her watch in quiet respect as the rainbow haired Gem turns on a dime and departs from them, leaving both the fountain and the ranks of the Crystal Gems behind as she fades beyond the shadow of the grove. They wait. Not too long after, a bar of pure cyan light shoots to the sky, accompanied by that resonant bell like tone he’s long associated with the warp pads. At the sound some of the tension in his companion’s form finally eases. She reaches to wipe under her visor. Geeze, tonight’s really been a high emotion day for her as well, huh? First she’s reunited with an old friend she hasn’t seen face to face in millennia, and then later that evening she’s met with the terrifying threat of Steven’s mortality…wherein she learns that this same old friend is the reason he’s cleaved apart and cracked to begin with. And then there’s all of Rose’s lies, which— as much as he loved her— he’s sure he’ll also have to wrestle with in the coming season.

She sighs, and turns to him.

“And as for you...”

He scratches at his scalp. “Heh heh, am I in trouble too?”

She chuckles briefly, lips turning up in a soft smile. “No, of course not. The truth is, I need your help. I can’t always… be here, to look after Steven.”

His brow creases. Such oddly specific words from such an articulate person. ‘Be here?’ What does she mean, that she’s leaving the other Gems? That she’s going on some extended mission? And why now, of all times?

“What do you mean?”

“My future vision is clouded, incomplete, but I can sense we’re approaching a crossroads.” She lays both gems on his shoulders, and suddenly her visor flashes away, her three eyes intensely pouring into his, searching, beseeching. It’s the single most vulnerable expression he’s ever seen her convey.

“Greg. He trusts you with matters he doesn’t always trust us with. I know you’ve mostly kept your distance from Gem activities up to this point, but the time is coming when you won’t be able to separate these worlds anymore. I need you to keep a close watch on him. For me. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“O- of course,” he says, mind nervously whirring with an infinitude of uncertain futures based on this new information, and oh golly, does this even lay a finger to what she experiences every moment of every day? “But if you don’t mind me asking, what’s coming? What crossroads?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, her gaze falling wayward. “I can barely see the shape of our future anymore, only faint impressions. And… and that terrifies me. So much has changed so quickly.”

She’s nearly quivering, eyes blown wide, and Greg only now realizes the degree to which he took her unyielding strength for granted all this time. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his bare feet, reaching for an answer on what to do, what to say to support a person who until now, has never been in need of that support.

“Are… you handling things okay?”

Garnet clamps her lips together, taking a moment to ground herself once more. Then with a intentional flick of her fingers, her visor shimmers back into place.

“No,” she says evenly. “No, I’m afraid I’m not.”

He exhales with a prolonged, meandering sigh when the two of them finally reach the temple, solid crystal phasing into existence under his feet in a bright flash of cyan. Despite how long he’s known the Gems, a trip through the warp stream is a rarity for him. In the beginning that was mostly Pearl’s doing— with her staunch refusal of allowing humans anywhere near Gem structures vocal enough to convince Rose to leave him behind. Thankfully Pearl began to tolerate him enough in the later years of the relationship that she lifted the ban. After that he and Rose would occasionally steal away on dates in exotic locations only accessible by warp pad, and while he has many fond memories of his time with her in these breathtaking places he must admit he’s never been a big fan of this form of travel in the first place. He’s not keen on flying for similar reasons— it’s simply too disorientating. What can he say, he’s a wheels to the ground sort of guy.

He carefully steps down from the raised platform. In the loft, bundled under fresh bedding, Steven stirs awake and lifts his head upon hearing their arrival. Dark bags emphasize his puffy, reddened eyes. Greg’s heart seizes at the realization that he’s been crying all on his own, when no one can see him, in the dark.

“Dad, Garnet!” he whispers, forcing a weak grin. “You’re back!”

He tosses the dirty comforter on the floor next to the warp pad, and bounds across the room to him as fast as his weary joints possibly can.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, climbing up the stairs to the loft. He plops himself down at the foot of the mattress. “You all cozy now?”

His son snuggles even deeper under the sheets, clutching one of his stuffed bears to his chest. “Yup, all tucked in.”

“Good, good. I, uh- I’m really glad you’re okay.”

And at these words, exhaustion weighs Steven down like a twenty pound barbell, shattering his brave facade. He visibly deflates, his eyelids drooping.

“Yeah,” he sighs, blankly staring off into the distance.

Upon following the path of his glance, however, Greg realizes that he’s actually not staring at nothing. He’s watching Garnet first and foremost, who’s leaning against the fridge, but more importantly… Sitting smack dab in the middle of the kitchen counter is his inert gemstone, nestled within the cottony folds of a bath towel. Of course. He needn't a second guess of what has him so glum. He leans in to embrace him and Steven immediately reciprocates, flinging his arms around his neck so tight that given the option of comforting his kid or constant, steady airflow he’d choose to forgo the breathing every time.

“Can you sleep here tonight?” he asks, voice brimming with a vulnerability he hasn’t heard from him for a few years.

“Of course. I’ll never say no to a good couch, heh heh.”

“No, I mean— with me, up here. Please. I really, really don’t wanna be alone right now.”

His son pulls away, and peers at him with the most doleful, starry eyes one could muster. He can’t help but chuckle.

“You do know you ain’t gotta pull out the puppy dog eyes on me, right?”

“Yeah, but was it working?”

“All right,” Garnet interrupts, leisurely making her way up the steps to the loft. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

He nods in full agreement. It’s super late, and the kid desperately needs some rest after all the trauma of this evening. Working together, parent and guardian, they help tuck him back, snug and secure. Heeding to Steven’s request, he crawls under the covers as well, leaning against the far wall. Distantly, he notes that he left his van unlocked when Amethyst whisked him away to the fountain, but by this point he’s too comfortable here on this mattress to dream of making the trek across town to fix that. He’ll just have to trust it’ll be fine. Beach City is a small, secluded place, after all. Most residents barely lock their doors at night.

“Garnet, am I even able to fuse with my gem again?” Steven asks meekly, before she can turn to leave them to rest.

She pauses, balling her fist against her mouth as she considers.

“I can’t see everything, but I do know you’ll be alright,” she promises, and reaches down to brush through his dark curls. Delicately, she presses a kiss to his forehead. Steven’s eyes light up instantly. This time, he grins for real.

“Wow, homemade waffles? And we’re all sharing them as a family! Well, except Pearl, of course. But she’s still there with us.”

“That’s right. It’s together breakfast.”

The tension wound through Greg's spine eases at hope’s return to the atmosphere of this household. With a relieved smile, he rubs his hands together. “Guess I’m breaking out the ol’ waffle iron tomorrow, then!”

Steven throws his arms around the taller Gem. “Thank you,” he says, clinging tight. “I really needed that. Can you… maybe stay out here with us too?”

The puppy dog eyes return in force. Any weaker individual (himself included) would surely be powerless to resist this maelstrom of pure Universe charm, but Garnet’s no brittle Gem. From what little she confided to him back at the fountain, he bets she's in want of some alone time right now. True to his predictions, she smiles apologetically.

“I wish I could, but I have some delicate matters that need to be attended to in the temple.”

“Awwwww, man!”

“But I’ll see you at breakfast,” she adds before his burgeoning pout can fully reach his eyes.

This promise seems to placate the boy enough for him to relax into his pillow. His eyes droop as he watches Garnet amble down the stairs. He’s not the only one— Greg’s own eyes are beginning to ache from sheer exhaustion as well. A sudden spike of jealousy overtakes him, upon remembering how the rest of the Gems don’t get tired, and don’t require sleep. If only, if only. Oh boy, tomorrow’s going to be rough, isn’t it? It’s what… at least one in the morning by now? Squinting, he cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of Steven’s alarm clock.

It’s twelve forty-six. Close enough. With any luck he’ll drift off to sleep within the next fifteen or so minutes.

“I love you,” Garnet says from downstairs, directed at Steven. She shapes her fingers into a heart. His lips curve into a smile as he watches this. While he’s never doubted the depth of her affection for him, she isn't often this transparent about it. Perhaps she thought his son could use the reminder in the wake of a terrifying near-death experience.

“Love you too,” Steven chimes. “Goodnight!”

With that, the Gem retreats across the room to the temple door. She holds her palms up to the star insignia. The matching gems light up, glowing a vibrant blue and red, and the magical doorway slides open— almost as if dissolving from the middle— to reveal the private chamber held within. She steps forward and disappears into the bowels of the temple, leaving the two Universe boys bundled under the covers in an uneasy silence. Steven sighs under his breath. Greg can tell without looking at him that something is gnawing away at his son's heart, bubbling up within him like soda fizz.

“Dad?" he eventually asks, flopping onto his side to face him. "Where’s Bismuth? Did she leave from the fountain?”

Yup, there it is. He feared this was coming.

“She’s—“ he pauses, trying to determine how best to phrase this— “Garnet had a discussion with her. She’s not welcome here in the temple until further notice. As punishment.”

Understanding dawns on his face. “Ohhh, so she basically reverse grounded her."

“Exiled, yes.”

“Huh." Steven hugs his plush bear in the crook of his arm even tighter, and stares up at the ceiling beams with a concerningly numb expression. "Well... I guess that’s fair.”

Greg frowns.

“What’s eatin’ you up there, bud?”

“It’s just…" He tussles at the top hem of the sheets, his knuckles turning white. "Even though she tried to shatter me, and that was terrifying and all... I could tell she felt really guilty about it right after. And besides that, she was actually super kind. I hope she’ll be alright on her own.”

“You’re the one who’s super kind,” he says with a soft smile, and reaches out to ruffle his son’s hair. Steven playfully bats his hands away, cheeks flushing at the compliment. “Not everyone your age would ever stop to think about the people who harmed them in that way. Heck, not many adults would, either. I’m not sure I could.”

"But I've also been thinking... Peridot and Lapis tried to kill us when we first met them, too. And now we’re all friends, and it’s fine, right?"

Greg considers this, stroking at his beard. As much as Steven defends their oft-erratic behavior, he's not sure he personally considers those the ex-Homeworld Gems who are bunking in his family's old barn friends yet. The first time he met Lapis, she attempted to steal the ocean and broke his leg. And as for Peridot, she once pushed him off a roof with next to no warning. (God, he would've broken his leg again if it weren't for Garnet's future vision, huh?) But despite his current opinions on them, it's true that they both have a amicable rapport going with Steven (and for the most part, the rest of the Gems) these days. They've made an effort to learn, to grow with the lush Earth around them. Against the very unmovable nature of their kind, they've succeeded in the impossible. They've changed.

"So what if we’re being a little too hard on her?" Steven continues, eyes glistening. "What if it pushes her away forever?”

“Mmm. I understand where you’re coming from, but she didn’t just try to kill you. She almost succeeded. Sometimes there’s such a thing as being too compassionate, you know?” He chuckles, and props himself up on his elbow. “Heh. You really are like your mother, in that way. Y’see, once she told me about the first time she came across a pigeon, and apparently she—“

“Can we please not talk about her right now?” he interrupts, his voice strained.

“S-sure thing,” Greg stutters, mentally smacking himself for not considering the stress the topic of Rose has become for his son before he foolishly ran his mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t think.“

Closing his eyes, Steven snuggles closer to him, scooting under the covers into his arms. “It’s okay,” he whispers, and yawns. “We’re okay.”

Notes:

-Amethyst reacts with more vocalized anger to the Pink Diamond bomb here because she has not yet crossed an integral moment of identity building character development- re: Beta/Earthlings. In canon, she tells Steven after A Single Pale Rose that none of the PD/rebellion stuff should even be their problem, and she’s absolutely right, but here I imagine she’s still at the point where she’s internally making it her problem when it doesn’t need to be. So she lashes out. Wrongfully.

-Meanwhile, Steven’s Gem self hasn’t reformed yet because he was only just healed from being cracked. I figure that takes a lot outta a Gem. He’ll need a bit more time before he’s ready.

__

Finally, when it comes to the long term plot, I’m very excited to say that I now have this one fully planned out. It’s gonna be a sort of alternate s4, with some original “episodes” and an arc forming the framework of the story. Should be fun. But anyways, your readership and support is so appreciated! From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[thesides]

born from resistance [can’t keep me tied down]

Fandom: Sanders Sides (duh) Pairings: None, yet! Chapter: 1 Read:  AO3 Notes: I have no idea where I’m going with this, but I promise you the next chapters will be WAY better! Tag List:  @neetrash @lonewolfmemories @trash-can-so-do-i @half-blood-geek @topspintessa @sweetie2136 @tragicrevenge @babyboylittlepupper

“Virgil remembered the nights when he was a kid, begging for someone to whisk him away from the constant judging. He could remember the shrieking and the crying, hoping that one day it would change.

It never did. ”

Sanders Sides Demigod AU

Virgil wasn’t normal.

That much, he definitely knew. Because as he walked down the street, he could practically count every side glance he’d get. So far, he was at twenty, but his high score was fifty in an hour. How bad was his life that his best achievement was how many people looked at him with disgust? Well, Virgil thought, it wasn’t that bad. He had known a lot of other of people who had it almost as bad as he did - sometimes, worse. And it was those people that he managed to befriend, in his own odd, weird way.

Honestly, Virgil wasn’t even sure how they became his friends, but he wasn’t gonna question it. Not now.

Virgil tugged at his hoodie strings, cursing under his breath as he bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered, looking down and forcing himself to keep moving. He could hear them groan about ‘Teens these days,’ and Virgil just kept walking, tightening his fists at the veiled insult. Keep walking, Virgil thought, just ignore them. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, since, at this point, it was practically routine. Go outside, crash into someone, get insulted, go home. It almost made him want to stay inside all day - almost. Contrary to the nosy middle-aged neighbors, Virgil did have a social life, thank you very much. It just… wasn’t as prominent as everyone else’s. Could you blame him, Virgil thought out, shaking his head.

With the looks everyone gave him constantly, you’d think people would understand that ‘Hey, this guy is outed by society! He’s screwed in the friendship department!’

Apparently, Virgil overestimated people’s intelligence. Never again, he thought, people were exactly as dumb as they looked. They didn’t even know him- yet… Everyone knew he was wrong. A dud.

Shoving his hands in his pocket, Virgil walked towards the train. The crowd was forming rapidly, and anxiety shot up in his spine. He licked his lips, fingering the small amount of cash before walking forward. Virgil quickly paid, practically jumping into the train before the doors slammed shut. He looked around for a seat, faintly noting that the train was a wreck. Sure, it wasn’t a dumpster, but… Virgil sat down on a mangled seat, thread sticking out of it on all sides. Yeah, the train was definitely high class.

He sighed, leaning back against the train’s walls. Virgil winced as the chatter of the train picked up. Sure enough, a group of tourists were blabbering right in front of him, and Virgil wanted to groan out. Of course… Virgil whipped out his headphones, thanking whatever higher deity in existence that they weren’t tangled. He popped them in, listening to some song before closing his eyes.

Virgil felt the train move, and he let his mind drift. What was he thinking about, again? Oh… right. According to literally every person in existence, he was a heathen with purple hair and an emo/angsty background. Yay. Virgil couldn’t help the bitter taste in his mouth at that description - damn, he was getting too good at being right. Because he knew that everyone thought of him that way - even people who didn’t know him at all. And it wasn’t even his fault - he didn’t want to be this way. Virgil remembered the nights when he was a kid, begging for someone to whisk him away from the constant judging. He could remember the shrieking and the crying, hoping that one day it would change.

It never did. Such was his life.

Virgil wished he’d accepted that fact sooner.

Everyone knew he wasn’t normal. He was an outlier, the unknown - Virgil wasn’t supposed to exist. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He was supposed to be this, act like that. But it never happened - he was just Virgil.

Virgil gave off this ‘bad vibe,’ according to literally everyone that walked past him. People always gave him that ‘look’, for reasons that Virgil didn’t even care anymore. Some small part of him broke whenever someone would cuss him out under their breath, but for some reason, it only managed to make Virgil come back with a furious hatred for the world.

Virgil knew he wasn’t normal. There was something wrong with him. Especially when he saw things jump out at him in the middle of the night. They were… monsters, in every way possible. He recalled one time when he was walking in a Subway. Never again, he promised. Subway was evil. But there were always things that happened to him. Feral dogs that seemed to be at least double his own size attacked him out in the blue. Buffed out people with only one eye stalked him whenever he walked out in the park - one even tried to kill him. But whenever he tried to explain it to someone… Apparently, that dog was a kitten and that person was an elderly.

Yep, totally makes sense.

Virgil forced himself to open his eyes, feeling the train coming to a stop. He glanced up at the sign, squinting as he tried to make out the floating letters. Nope. Wasn’t his stop. Virgil leaned back, sighing as he turned up the volume.

The train moved again and Virgil hummed along with the tune of Over My Head, tapping his fingers against his leg. If he had to sit on a thirty minute trip across the city, then at least he’d have his music. For a second, Virgil managed to relax, leaning his head back and just enjoying the blast of music.

And then, of course, someone had to sit next to him.

Immediately, Virgil stiffened, instinctively turning down the volume blasting from his headphones. The last thing he wanted was someone to start a lecture about ‘modern music.’ Yeah, so what if the Beatles were really the hit in the 70s? He didn’t. Care.

So Virgil forced himself to just sit in silence, swallowing at the sudden awkwardness bursting between them. Seriously, who sits next to a person when there’s about ten other spots-

“Ah, yes, I forgot to ask, do you mind?” Virgil blinked at the voice, whipping his head around to the person sitting next to him.

“No.” Was all Virgil managed to say, well, muttered as the person sat straight up.

“Great. I apologize for not asking sooner.” The guy was… weird, Virgil noted. He talked like a textbook - looked like one, too. He wore a necktie and a dark blue shirt, matched with black skinny jeans. Oh, and glasses, because this guy was really trying hard for that nerd look. Or maybe he really was one? Wait, why did Virgil care? “I needed company for the experiment I am engaging in.”

“Ex… Experiment?” Oh no, Virgil was not liking where this was going. He swallowed and berated himself for stuttering. Yeah, great English, Verge-

“Yes.” The man adjusted his glasses and pushed them up at the sides. “I was unable to gather any other information via the Library and the ‘Internet. You seem to be in the same situation as I am.”

“What?” Virgil blinked, feeling his hackles rise and his brain started screaming at him. “Look, I don’t care what drugs or thing you’re selling. I don’t want it.”

Traveling around the city, you were bound to run into one of those ragtag groups that practically pressured you into buying some sort of drug. Virgil had had his handful of interactions, and he’d always barely escaped them. But… The guy didn’t look like one of those people. He looked nice.

And he also looked very, very confused. “No…” He began, “That wasn’t what I meant. Was my statement not trustworthy enough? Allow me to rephrase- I believe that another person will help me in my studies. I can’t be the only one experiencing these… anomalies.”

“Yeah,” Virgil snorted, the guy was a living textbook, “Right. You literally just met me and suddenly we’re the same. Keep talkin’, lunatic.”

“I do not appreciate you insulting me. And frankly, I was simply trying to conduct an experiment-”

“Whatever- I don’t appreciate you ‘experimenting’ on me. Can you just lay off?”

People were turning their way, eyes looking at him. Shit, he thought, all he wanted to do was go home in peace.

The nerd had the nerve to huff, rolling his eyes before leaning back in his seat.  “Fine. I will not intrude further. I just…” He adjusted his glasses, and Virgil faintly noticed the bags under the guy's eyes.

Oh no, his mind said, no, we’re not going to feel bad for a stranger. None of that. Weren’t we just insulting the guy two seconds ago? He was but… Virgil couldn’t help but feel just a bit bad. The guy looked- well, he looked just like him. The nerdy look probably didn’t help with being social, and the way he talked probably didn’t get him any points in some club or something. And Virgil couldn’t help the understanding. Sure, Virgil wasn’t a ray of sunshine, but he wasn’t going to ruin a guy’s fucking day because he wanted to.

“Ah, fuck it…” Virgil muttered, turning to face the nerd. “Go ahead, show me what you got.”

The nerd’s face actually brightened. “Very well. I assure you, the time will not be of waste. I have gathered a series of plausible factions and various-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Just tell me what you wanted to do.” Virgil slowly spoke out, and he briefly regretted his decision, just for a second.

“Right- I… I have been seeing these sort of images in the middle of crowds or chaos. Yet, whenever I discuss these with the authorities, it seems as though they never existed. They just weren’t there.” Virgil felt his blood go cold as the geek kept talking, “I have tried to collect photos, but it never worked. I have sketched out diagrams-”

“Wait.” The train slowed, and Virgil could barely make out anything. “Wait- What’s your name, geek?”

“Logan. Logan Everill.”

Someone- Someone was like him? “Logan- Logan, do they ever attack? What do they look like?”

He couldn’t help the pounding in his chest, the beating of his heart, the rapid breathing in and out. Virgil wasn’t alone. Someone saw the things he saw. Normal, Normal, Normal. The words repeated like a mantra, the only thing burning into his mind. Logan Everill was like him. He saw the things lurking in the darkness -  saw the feral dogs growling at him. Logan saw the things he did… he wasn’t alone.

“I… I cannot describe them. They look like-”

Suddenly, the train lurched forward and Virgil felt his back slam into the pole next to him. He gasped, mind spinning before whipping his head towards the front. The tourists in front of him were launched forward, screaming. Logan was right behind him, standing up and gripping the pole desperately.

Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart jumped out of his chest. “No…”

For a split second, Virgil wished for someone to say anything, do anything just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. And then a little girl cried out, screaming. It sunk in, and people started yelling and he could see out of the corner of his eyes the girl was kneeling on the ground. Logan moved forward, eyes wide and fist tightened. People kept on shrieking and Virgil couldn’t help the shaking in his bones.

This… This couldn’t be happening, he thought dumbly. There’s no way…

Because the front of the train was gone and in its place was a dog the size of his own apartment.

“Yeah,” Virgil heard Logan whisper under his breath, “They look like that.”

The dog looked up, and Virgil screamed.

[noahfence1d]

This time nine years ago, five teenage boys' dreams were in tatters after being rejected from the X Factor .

But determined not to let a good-looking gang go to waste, show boss Simon Cowell and his genius decided to put solo hopefuls Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson together.

It took the lads just five minutes to agree to his plan and have another crack at the competition - this time in the groups category.

They would go on to be one of the most successful boybands of the century, selling out stadiums and dominating the charts for five years before splitting in an explosion of bitterness and animosity.

But with no experience of harmonies, group singing or even each other, even then Liam wondered what they were really getting into.

"We had seen each other at Bootcamp and got on well, and Niall and I had shared a room. But we were competition then, and at the back of the minds we knew were against each other," Liam would later recall.

"So it was strange when we were put together and my first thought was, 'How are we going to make this work when we don't know each other? It was such a leap of faith."

Desperate to catch up with the other bands, the newly-formed five-piece spent an intense two intense weeks practising in a bungalow at the bottom of Harry's step-dad's garden in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire.

But contrary to their bright white smiles and boyish banter, their very different personalities were already beginning to show, laying the foundations for the resentment, jealously and anger that would one day cause the group to implode.

"We used to be at each other’s throats on the X Factor," Louis admitted on their This Is Us DVD of his clashes with Liam.

"Whenever I wanted to do anything slightly mischievous, he was always the daddy."

"Me and Louis did not get on at all," Wolverhampton-born Liam agreed. "We were two completely different characters. There was one point where I literally wanted to whack him."

Nevertheless, they sailed through the live shows and came third in the final before scoring a record deal with Cowell, who for them made n exception of only signing the winning act.

A mysterious fall out

By the time they scored their first number one with What Makes You Beautiful in September 2011, Harry and Louis were living as housemates in a rented £3million North London flat in the same block where Ashley Cole and Cheryl once met.

Then suddenly at the start of 2012 they allegedly stopped talking and moved out.

“Apart from Harry and Louis, no one knows exactly what caused the falling out — they didn’t even tell the other boys the full details," a source told The Sun at the time.

“But it was very serious and their friendship has never recovered. Everyone involved in the band is well aware of the animosity between them.

“It’s been central to everything else that came next with the band because there was suddenly a massive divide.”

From that point on Harry apparently refused to even travel with Louis and the fall-out would become so serious that bosses reportedly had to find a way to make their last three albums without the boys having to spend any time together in the studio.

However, Niall dismissed the claims, telling fans not to believe the reports.

"We stand strong as a band and we’re brothers," he tweeted.

Those 'gay sex' rumours

One theory was that the 'Larry Stylinson' fan fiction depicting the pair as lovers had pushed them apart.

Louis, in particular, was extremely sensitive about the claims and admitted the speculation about their sexuality 'created an atmosphere'.

"People can believe what they want, but it comes across as a little bit disrespectful to the ones that I love, like (girlfriend) Eleanor (Calder)," he said.

"I'm so protective over things like that, about the people I love. So it created this atmosphere between the two of us."

Zayn told how Harry and Louis had even dialled back their physical friendship in an attempt to stop the rumours.

"It's not funny, and it still continues to be quite hard for them. They won't naturally go put their arm around each other because they're conscious of this thing that's going on, which is not even true," he said.

While Harry likes to keep people guessing about his sexuality, refusing to put a label on it, Louis has categorically said he is heterosexual.

And he was raging when a cartoon featured in HBO show Euphoria depicted a sex scene between him and Harry last month.

"I can categorically say that I was not contacted nor did I approve it," he raged on Twitter , with a source telling The Sun he was 'angered' that an 'awkward' situation had been made worse.

Drug scandal

Whatever the cause of the tension, the rift only grew wider when Zayn and Louis were filmed smoking what appeared to be cannabis in the back of an SUV en route to a concert in Peru in 2014.

Narrating from behind the camera as he filmed Zayn lighting what appeared to be a joint, Louis could be heard saying, "So here we are, leaving Peru. Joint lit. Happy days!"

Talking about Zayn taking his warm-up 'seriously', he continued, "One very very important factor of Zayn’s warm up of course if Mary J herself. In fact I will present it to him now for some fantastic singing."

Straight-laced Harry - who wasn't even much of a drinker - was apparently 'furious' they'd taken the shine off the start of their UK stadium tour with their 'stupid and reckless' behaviour.

"Harry is annoyed about the whole debacle. This should be one of the biggest weeks of the band's career... Instead it has been taken over by this controversy," an insider told The Sun.

"Despite Harry's reputation, he's incredibly professional and mature, and not into these sorts of antics," the source added.

Booze battles

It wasn't just Louis and Zayn who were in Harry's bad books.

Liam's partying was so out of control that Harry reportedly refused to go socialise with the band unless good guy Niall was there to keep the peace.

The pressure of spending two solid years on the road coupled with rumours about their future caused Liam to have a backstage meltdown in October 2015 with the band forced to cancel the gig in Belfast.

"The pressures of fame and being on the road for two years have made Liam ill," a source told The Sun of the star, who would go on to admit fame 'nearly killed me'.

“He was devastated about letting everyone down, especially the fans, but he wasn’t physically able to get on stage. He had a complete meltdown.”

On another occasion he turned up to a fan event so drunk that it finally gave him a wake-up call.

"I'm not afraid to say that I actually went through a pretty bad [drinking] stage," he told Attitude magazine.

"There were just a few times that I went over the limit with things and then I had to pull it back.

"I was very fortunate that I had lots of great people around me who said to me, 'Look Liam, you need to chill out a bit now.'"

Admitting he used alcohol to cope with the strain of performing near-constant touring, he said being drunk was like putting on a Disney costume before stepping out on stage.

"Underneath the Disney costume I was pissed quite a lot of the time because there was no other way to get your head around what was going on,” he told Men's Health.

“I mean, it was fun. We had an absolute blast, but there were certain parts of it where it just got a little bit toxic.”

The pact

The band was fraying at the seams. Zayn was constantly in the headlines, accused of cheating on then-fiancée Perrie Edwar - which he vehemently denied.

There were rumours that he wanted out of 1D - despite the deal they were said to have made to release five albums and a greatest hits record before going on a 'hiatus'.

But Zayn blindsided everyone by suddenly quitting in March 2015 after a concert in Hong Kong.

In a statement he later admitted had nothing to do with him, he claimed he wanted to be a 'normal 22- year old'.

"I wasn't going to spend another minute doing something which made me ill and which I no longer believed in," he said of his shock exit.

Harry was seen openly crying on stage during their performance the next night.

But behind the scenes, the lads were reportedly furious.

“The others knew Zayn would have a head start by leaving first, like Robbie Williams did when he quit Take That," said a pal.

“It was frustrating to them as Zayn only had to hang on in there a few months and 1D would have gone on their long break united.”

Zayn would later go so far as to claim he'd wanted to leave the band from the very beginning and that he hated their music.

Friends no more?

Meanwhile, absence has only made the feud grow stronger, particularly between Louis and Zayn after the latter failed to support him on the X Factor following his mum's death in December 2016.

"I had a couple of calls with him after I lost my mum and all the boys had agreed to come to that performance and he didn't show, so that really bugged me," he said on the Dan Wootton podcast.

"It was just seeing everyone there – Harry, Niall and Liam – that was what I needed that night, that support," he said. "So on the other end of the spectrum it kind of really showed. So, eh, I hope he's alright, but..."

Niall admits he doesn't even have Zayn's number and that he's constantly changing it, while Zayn sniped that he didn't 'really' speak to Harry when they were in the band so didn't expect to have a friendship after.

"I ain't spoke to any of them for a long time, to be honest with you. That's just the way it is," he told Vogue.

"There's things that happen and things that were said after I left...Snide things. Small things that I would never have expected."

So could they ever reunite?

While Louis says it's 'inevitable', Harry reportedly isn't on the same wavelength.

“Since stepping away from 1D Harry has really enjoyed life outside that pop bubble," a source said.

“And right now he has absolutely no desire to get 1D back together.”