#reminder to self to go back and leave comments on the ones I haven't yet

[ivy-and-ivory]

I absolutely adore your Batman and Jason Todd fics!!! I was wondering if you had any fic recs? ♥️

Thank you Anon!! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing :D

There’s so much incredible Jason & Bruce fic out there and I’m more than happy to share some recs! I’m unfortunately not the best about remembering to keep track of fics I enjoy, so this is by no means a definitive/comprehensive list of my favorites, but I scrolled through my bookmarks and found a few fics that will hopefully satisfy your Jason & Bruce cravings :)

Stargazer by LemonadeGarden @lemonadegarden (47,656 words, Multi-chap, Complete)

Author’s Summary:

“Jason Todd is seriously injured during patrol one night, and is forced to stay at the manor to recuperate until his injuries are healed. To pass the time, he makes a list of things he never got to do before he died. Except there's one small problem: most of them involve Bruce, and Jason doesn't really think Bruce cares all that much about him anymore. This is a story about how wrong he is, but I made it sad anyway.”

Truly what can I even say about this fic. This is the story that made me fall in love with Jason Todd, and Bruce & Jason reconciliation fics, and Bruce & Jason destination/road trip fics, and basically everything I care most about in this fandom. I’d been a Superbat fan for a while before I started getting into the Batfam side of things, and around the time I read this I was only just starting to read stories about the Robins. This was the gateway fic. This was the one that caught me and made it stick. Formative, definitive, one of my all time faves.

this kind of weather by r_astra @heyy-its-skip (46,456 words, Multi-chap, WIP)

Author’s Summary:

“Jason’s at school when his mom dies, and that’s the only reason any of it happens. If he’d been home, if he’d been with her, he would’ve been in the wind before anyone else even knew. Even if they looked, no one ever would’ve found him. He’d have taken to the sewers if that’s what it took, man-eating crocodile guy and all.”

Ohhhhh this fic. Bio-parent Bruce AUs don’t always do it for me, but the fics that get it right get it RIGHT, and this is one of them. Possibly my favorite Jason joins the batfam late fic ever. I’m obsessed with the Jason characterization in this one. Like actually obsessed. Like he is rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken at all times constantly 24/7 obsessed. Cannot recommend enough.

Growing Like A Breeze by whaleofatime @cetaceans-pls (6,114 words, Oneshot, Complete)

Author’s Summary:

“April 27th isn't anyone's favourite date, but it's somehow worse than usual today when Bruce gets his car stolen. It's nice of Red Hood to come to his rescue. Nicer even that Jason keeps him company afterwards.”

If you’ve read my fics I think it should be a given that any Jason & Bruce fic tagged “Inexplicable Road Trip” is absolutely going to do it for me. But god, Bruce’s psyche in this one. The man has twisted himself up in more tangles than the Gordian knot. Really fantastic exploration of Bruce & Jason’s relationship and trying to move forward past the destructiveness of grief and blame. I will be thinking about the bumper stickers on Bruce's Hyundai Elantra forever.

through space and time by sparkycap @sparkysomething (6,334 words, Oneshot, Complete)

Author's Summary:

"When an Outlaws mission gets Jason sent back twelve years in the past, he finds himself in a familiar position: stealing something stupid and getting caught by a Batman who wants to give him a second chance. It’s a refreshing change from how encounters with his present-day Batman usually go."

I am a simple woman. Give me a fic where Bruce interacts with Jason without really knowing the significance of who he's interacting with and I will go feral, every time. Absolutely brutal interaction between a well-meaning Bruce and a hurting Jason in this one. Don't want to spoil anything, but there's one line of dialogue in particular that just. Ugh. Fuck me all the way up.

Clearly Calm and Keeping Terrorized by Batbirdies @batbirdies (258,290 words, Multi-Chap, Complete)

Author's Summary:

"Jason made a deal with Bruce, no killing, and there would be no more conflict between them. At least on patrol. Jason reasoned it would be easier to accomplish his goals without constantly fighting Batman along the way. It didn’t change anything, not really. Not until he found an old gift he never knew about and Bruce asked him to dogsit Titus while he and Damian were out of town. Not until the Lazarus Pit started bothering him again. AKA: My take on a Jason rejoins the family fic."

I am once again reccing a Bruce & Jason reconciliation fic (are you perhaps noticing a trend?) This one will break your heart and put it back together again. It's part of a series but can stand alone (though I've read the two works that precede it and highly recommend them as well). 250k+ words about a father and son and the rest of their family trying to figure out how to heal. Genuinely there is so much love in this fic. And trauma! Can't forget the trauma. But also so much love.

Code of Silence by JHSC @jhscdood (9,376 words, Multi-Chap, Complete)

Author's Summary:

"Willis Todd doesn’t die in prison. That doesn’t change much, until it does."

This one is less Jason & Bruce-centric than the others on this list (though Bruce still features, especially in the other works in the series) but it absolutely fits the bill for Jason & his dad content so I'm reccing it anyway. This fic utterly transformed the way I view Willis Todd. Incredibly thoughtful, emotional exploration of trauma and recovery and trying to heal. The whole series is gold.

Good Intentions and the Highest Hopes by rotasha (16,863 words, Multi-Chap, Complete)

Author's Summary:

"Bruce offers each of his children the chance to go on vacation with him, and they get to choose the destination. Jason chooses the one place he thinks Bruce will enjoy the least, out of spite. That’s how the two of them end up going to Disney World."

Another one that perfectly checks all my favorite Bruce & Jason fic boxes. Reconciliation fic? Check. Set in highly specific non-Gotham destination? Check. Bruce not quite knowing how to connect to Jason but trying his best anyway and Jason finally deciding to let him? Check, check, check. Jason's kind of an asshole in this one; I adore him eternally. And I love Bruce so so much in this.

There are so many more I could add but I'm going to leave it at that for now! Hope some of these are new to you & that you enjoy them! And thanks again for reading my work :D

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 38)

Tw: reminders of the horrors, short chaprer was a little stuck as to how i should progress but i found a way

Part 39

Turns out Yves bought a lot more souvenirs for you. The majority of them had to be refrigerated and because they had high doses of calcium, you couldn't eat them while you're completing your course of antibiotics.

Yves nodded as he peeled a crisp, red apple for you. He initiated another one of your talking marathons, but you're still aware of your surroundings; you're impressed that he could remove the peel using a small fruit knife and in one, long, continuous strip.

You stopped and commented that he has great cutting skills. He chuckled, "Thank you, dear."

Yves cut the fruit into dainty slices. "It takes practice."

He continued while bringing the apple piece to your mouth. You're used to him feeding you now, so you gladly took it without complaint before going back to what you were saying.

It got to the topic of missing classes. You're worried about your grades and you asked him if you could be discharged earlier.

He tilted his head and gave you a pitying smile. "My beloved, (name). You're suffering from a painful infection and a fracture." He pushed another slice to your lips. "Yet, this is still on your mind?"

You said that your parents are paying for your tuition fee. You can't afford to fail anything.

His eyes darted elsewhere in deep thought.

"Have you informed them of your current status?"

You froze. No, you have not. You haven't spoken to them in quite some time, not even texting them. You wonder if they had forgotten you.

You told him you didn't want to burden your parents. They don't have to know what has happened.

He hummed in response. You know Yves has something else to say, but he ultimately decided against it.

Yves cut another apple slice out for you. But you told him you're full, pushing his hand away from you. So he ate it instead, in painfully small nibbles.

__

Yves had to head home early for the day. He told you that he has to work.

You weren't opposed to the idea, because you wanted to be left alone for a while to scroll on your phone in peace before falling asleep for the night. The strange tear holes in your bedsheet didn't bother you, but you did wonder what caused it. In the end, you brushed it off as damages that were already there.

Upon waking up, you thought it was strange that Montgomery hadn't shown himself up in a while. No texts, no calls... it's as if he disappeared from the face of the planet. While that is great, you couldn't help but feel... saddened, that he switched from his usual self to ghosting you.

You sighed and blocked his number again. Yves is here, he probably wouldn't want him around anyways. You definitely wouldn't want Montgomery over either, the police are definitely going to get involved. Well at least if either of them get injured, they're already at a hospital.

After filtering out all the nosy acquaintances and your housemates, and Yves, you have... no friends again.

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. Well, you hope Yves isn't too busy. You're sick of looking at brainrottting content online, you want to chat with Yves again.

So you sent him a text, asking if he is free at the moment, taking note at the time. It's eight in the morning, your hospital wouldn't allow any visitors until 10am.

He answered almost immediately.

"Yes. Good morning, my beloved (name). I am now heading to the hospital. Is there anything I can do for you?"

You did some mental calculations, you estimated that he will be here by 9am, a whole hour before visitors are even allowed in. But he's Yves, he managed to convince the hospital to make him your nurse and doctor, you're sure they will allow him to enter earlier. You replied that you wanted to know how much longer you need to stay in the hospital.

"At least three more days. I will continue to monitor your status."

You asked him if you could leave earlier, you missed a lot of classes.

"You shouldn't have to worry about that for now, my dear. I have sent your lecturers and tutors letters detailing your current situation. They were understanding, providing the appropriate accommodations for you."

You asked him what he meant by "appropriate accommodations".

"They will send you emails to elaborate further. As of now, you must rest."

You let out a breath of relief, glad that you didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of requesting for an extension or your absence to be excused. Which made you wonder, how did he know who to send those memos to?

Before you could ask him that, Yves sent another message.

"Please. Remember their names this time. It would serve you well to know who will be guiding you through your courses."

He gave you a list of names and their respective roles. You thought back at the times where Yves asked you about your studies. Not a single one, you couldn't tell him the name of a single lecturer or tutor.

But it still didn't explain how he knew the names for this semester though, so you asked him about it.

"(Name), I enrolled you in your classes."

Oh. You forgot.

He has your login credentials for your student account too. And he works at the university, he could have just asked around.

And he is Yves, he could have easily deduced their names by searching them up online.

"Talk later. I will drive soon."

You turned your phone off after that, perhaps out of embarrassment.

__

You're pressed up against his chest as the fluids from the bag flows into your bloodstream, he absentmindedly runs his fingers through your hair while watching you for any signs of discomfort. The antibiotics tend to cause nausea in patients from his experience.

Yves smiled upon seeing that your eyes were closed and you were fully relaxing into him. This is wonderful, you're making much needed progress with him in a relatively short period. He can confirm that you're comfortable sharing a bed with him from now on.

Yves kissed you on the top of your head. "(Name)." He whispered.

You responded groggily, lifting up your head to face him. You only opened one eye, wanting to know what he required of you.

Yves pecked you on the forehead and chuckled. You're still waiting for his request, not even registering that he left a very visible lipstick print on you.

Good, good. You're completely settled in with his affection. Past the phase of extreme bashfulness and now into the realm of mundane comfort. This is what Yves wanted to see: you getting used to his affectionate touches.

Though... he knew he was going to miss those days where you couldn't look him in the eye without becoming a tomato. However, in the long run, it is required for you to be nonchalant about him to a certain degree. Or you might simply lose your mind.

"That will be all." He lovingly dismissed you with another kiss on the cheek.

You grunted and turned around, having your back pressed against his front. Once you're done, he rested an arm over your torso, becoming the big spoon.

Yves closed his eyes too and buried his face in your hair. But he isn't going to take a nap.

He is counting the number of breaths that you take and the depth of said inhales. His fingers pressing against your elbow to count your heartbeats without looking at the monitor. Yves is cocky enough to think he is better than a machine.

Lastly, he is counting the seconds elapsed. All of that while calculating your breathing and heart rate.

Eventually, you inhaled slower and the exhales became a bit more forceful. You're calm and unmoving save for the soft rising and falling of your ribcage.

You're asleep. Perfect.

Yves relished in your close presence for a few more minutes before tearing himself away from you.

He frowned at the coldness nipping at him as soon as he departed from your side. Yves fought the urge to cuddle with you again, being frustrated himself because it became exponentially harder to do so after coming back from his lonely trip.

Digging his fingers into his palm, he reluctantly stood up from the edge of the bed. Yves turned around and watched you with adoration-filled emerald eyes. He is so happy to be here.

Yves softly pulled your blanket over your shoulders and brushed your strands neatly over your pillow. This time, he kissed you on the arm before forcefully ripping himself away from your being. If he stayed longer, he would return under your sheets and hold you tight, not getting anything done.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he reaches for his bag. Yves pulled out a hairbrush and fixed his hair, using the reflection of his compact mirror to aid him.

Crossing his legs while sitting on the visitor's chair, he puts on his reading glasses and adjusts them properly. Yves tucked his locks behind his ear so he could read the files that he brought.

Light rustling of papers could be heard throughout the room, adding to its ambience along with the other machines.

His face was blank as he read through your case file. Yves will be a very busy man tomorrow as he has two court hearings to attend, as your attorney, your witness, his own representative and as a plaintiff to both. One to avenge you and enact his revenge, one to eradicate an annoying pest in your life.

He didn't pay much attention to the dossiers against Montgomery. Yves had his eyes focused on the case against Evangeline Jones.

He read through the details, his claims, the evidence; medical and on site and all other information available or supposedly unavailable to him for now.

A page with handwritten words was hidden at the end, where it contained data about the judge, including his address, his family, the all the briberies he took, his numbers, bank account details and many more that shouldn't be in Yves's hands. Evangeline's defence lawyer also wasn't safe from Yves's proficient sleuthing skills.

He scanned through the case. Searing each character, each photograph into his brain.

A stray tear rolled down to his chin, dripping onto the white paper, its wetness dying it grey and slightly smudging some ink. Then another. And another.

Until the sheet was littered with splotches of tears made up of his silent rage, remorse and regret.

Yet, he must read on. No matter how horrific it is.

Yves gracefully flipped the page as his face remained stoney.

But the tears kept falling.

[purpleheartskies]

I recently rewatched Stranger Things, and some scenes in s1 made me think of Cobra Kai.

The scene in s1 when Lonnie showed up for Will's "funeral" and how he talked to Jonathan reminded me of the scene in Cobra Kai of Johnny showing up to lecture Robby after the school called Johnny in s1e4. These deadbeat dads showing up acting like they give a shit about their kids and throwing their weight around.

Then, there's the scene where Joyce was confronting Lonnie for coming just to sue the owners of the quarry, and he claimed that they can use the money they get from the lawsuit for good things like sending Jonathan to college. Joyce asked Lonnie if he even knew where Jonathan wants to go to college. Of course, Lonnie didn't know. Joyce kicked him out cause he'd come for his own selfish reasons. This reminded me of Johnny's scene with Shannon in s1e4. At one point, Shannon commented that Johnny actually knew where his son was for once.

The contexts are very different, but what's the same about Lonnie and Johnny is (1) they came when it benefitted them to / when they felt like it, (2) they're so out of touch with their kids' lives by choice, (3) they have defensive, self-righteous attitudes about it to their kids and their kids' moms, (4) they expected their kids to just do what they say and to trust them, and (5) neither came back to try to do better.

The fact that Johnny never went back in s1e4 showed that he was never committed to doing better for Robby but was just there for himself. Johnny went on a whim and decided to "try" but gave up after some push back and went to the kid who is easy to "try" with and who makes him feel better about himself.

Johnny keeps chasing that kid even more now, while actively endangering and abusing Robby. Johnny in s5 has the same motivations as Johnny in s1, but Johnny in s5 is worse in a lot of ways.

Whereas Johnny in s1 didn't approve when Miguel exploited Robby's injury during the avt, Johnny in s5 didn't disapprove when Miguel made Robby bleed after Johnny had encouraged them to fight harder. After all, the goal was to have them "fight it out" non-tournament style. Johnny made it clear that he doesn't care about what happened between the boys and just wanted things solved on his timeline. Johnny never cared to understand who had started the rivalry and what had happened that led up to the end of the school fight in s2. He didn't care about what had actually happened in the waterpark parking lot in s5e4. In s3, when Johnny saw the bruise on Robby's face, Johnny immediately accused Robby of starting fights. In s4, when Robby told Johnny that Miguel had been the one to attack him in school, Johnny brushed him off with an "I wasn't there... but I know Cobra Kai", projecting his own history with Kreese onto Robby. Johnny has been projecting his view of himself onto Robby since Daniel's comment "maybe he just has a little too much of you in him" comment in s3e2.

In s5e1, Johnny gaslit Robby about looking for him when he went on the run. Then, Johnny minimized his failures with Robby (lying and tricking Robby into the trip was one of those countless failures), projected his own guilt for his own supposed "failures" with Miguel onto Robby, and wanted Robby to follow how he himself deals with his own guilt:

"I know I haven't been there for you, Robby. More times than I can count. But I've also failed Miguel. Hell, I'm the reason he ran off in the first place. I'm out here trying to fix my mistakes so I don't have to live with the regret of making them. If you're serious about making things right, you can start by helping Miguel. I know you have your fair share of regrets when it comes to him... I'm gonna call Carmen. I'll be right back. Finish taking these off."

Johnny walked away, leaving Robby to take care of one of Johnny's own screw ups (the flat tire) while he prioritized yet another Diaz over Robby.

It's ironic that Johnny said, "but I know Cobra Kai" when Robby told him that Miguel had attacked Robby in school, but Johnny has never considered Miguel's fault in all of this. Johnny (like the fandom) doesn't want to destroy the pristine image he has of Miguel. Miguel's motivations to hurt Robby in s5 were still the same as in s1. Now, he just uses the school fight as validation and gaslights Robby in s5e5 about his own actions in the school fight, "Last time we fought like this, how come you didn't hold back?" Maybe try not attacking and baiting someone like a psycho, huh Miguel? Of course, the lesson Johnny had given Miguel since the avt is "strike first, strike hard, show mercy sometimes". So essentially it's "attack and beat my kid up as much as you want, just show him mercy in the end", which Miguel followed through with in s2 and in s5. At least, Robby was allowed to fight back when Johnny told them to fight it out. Regardless, Robby is Miyagi-Do and had told Johnny that he wants his space, but Johnny cornered him with Miguel. This was despite Robby's admission after the avt that Cobra Kai had made everything worse for Robby. This fight was Cobra Kai (Johnny and Miguel) vs Miyagi-Do (Robby), just like the school fight had been and just like Silver and Daniel's fight was later in that episode. In s5e4, Johnny had questioned Shannon if Robby would be safe with her over the summer, but after Johnny got to keep Robby, Johnny proceeded to have him beaten into submission for his own purposes. Johnny himself called it "submission".

In Stranger Things, Joyce is portrayed as an imperfect parent that's a realistic mess but no doubt loves her sons and even went into another dimension to rescue one of them. Joyce has her flaws. For example, when they first realized that Will wasn't at home, Joyce got upset with Jonathan for working instead of making sure Will got home. Jonathan is parentified because of these responsibilities, but there's never a doubt throughout s1 or later if Joyce cares about her sons. She never gave up on Will, and she cares about Jonathan. Later, when Jonathan wanted to go into dangerous situations to save Will, Joyce refused to let him. Joyce is the kind of parent that you can say, "she tries her best with what she has".

Johnny doesn't deserve the claim that he tries their best with what he has. Not in s1 nor later. In s5, Johnny just used Robby as a thing to feel better about himself and continued to prioritize other people over Robby, neglecting and abusing Robby in the process.

At the end of s5, Silver told the audience what to expect if the baby plotline continues:

Johnny's just gonna screw up another kid.

Nothing throughout s5 contradicted this statement.

[spookyboywhump]

Okay yes I know I haven't posted any writing in. A long time. Especially not any plot relevant writing. But hear me out. This. This one. Me and Edwin have been sitting on this idea and it's been fucking killing me.

Takes place after This Piece

CW: mentions of past whump, mention of sibling loss

***

Zander was exhausted when he turned up for work again a couple of days later. He tried not to take time off if he could avoid it, but seeing Cain after so long was somehow both a massive weight off his shoulders, and an extreme drain on his overall mental health, enough that he decided it warranted taking advantage of the generous sick leave they gave him. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that he wouldn’t have to deal with Cain anymore though, things would finally return to the normal he’d grown used to and he could relax. At least, that’s what he thought until he and Eli were called to their boss’ office. 

 They both froze in the doorway at the sight of Cain Whitaker there in the office. It had only been a few days, despite what Cain had said it looked like he’d be in a wheelchair for the time being. He looked drastically different already though, he had yet to cut his hair but it was neat and pinned back, he was dressed just as nicely as Zander always remembered him, he looked tired, but serious, almost back to his old self.

 “What is he doing here?” Elias snapped immediately, scowling at Cain who tried to avoid looking at him.

 “Mr. Whitaker wanted to speak to us today. I thought I would let you know he’s here beforehand.” Ms. Atwood explained. “I understand that you don’t have the best history with him, but I still expect you to at least be civil with him.”

 “Are you kidding me?!” Eli snapped, Zander quickly putting his hand on his arm, giving him a stern look and trying to silently tell him to shut up. Eli didn’t seem happy about it, but he grit his teeth, keeping any further comments to himself. 

 “I think we can manage.”  Zander said, trying his best to stay calm. He tried to see this as just another thing to get through, another hurdle, another hoop to jump through that would get him closer and closer to the end of all this. Reminding himself it would pass eventually was the only way to keep himself sane. 

 ***

 “I promise that there is a good reason for this.” Cain explained. They sat in a conference room with a group of several other people they worked with, including the team of Eli’s friends, as well as others who had started looking into the pet business, and Ms. Atwood of course. Zander had seen Cain address groups of people before but he’d never seen him this nervous, fidgeting in his seat, unable to meet the eye of anybody around him. 

 “There better be a good reason you aren’t in fucking prison right now.” Eli muttered to himself, it seemed only Zander had heard him though. 

  “I want… to help…” He said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t undo what I’ve done, and I’m aware that I’m not really qualified to be involved in the process of actually rescuing people- but I still want to do something. I have the ability to support a project like this, you’ve already rescued several pets- several people, but, there… there should be a place for them to go afterwards, so they can get help, I know you can’t keep them here and you can’t always send them to someone else right away, so there needs to be another option…”

 “What exactly are you proposing here?” Ms. Atwood asked, looking at Cain skeptically. None of them really seemed to trust him, they all knew what he had done, but bringing that up now wasn’t exactly productive. 

  “Think of it like… like a rescue shelter.” He said. “I’ve been thinking over it for some time now, it could be a safe location for recently rescued victims, there could be services and professionals there to help, and they’d be able to stay there while they recover, until they are ready to go home or until we are able to contact somebody who can take them in.”

 “Are you doing this just because you feel guilty?” Alec asked bluntly, getting a disapproving look from Ms. Atwood.

 “I… that- that isn’t it…” Cain said, faltering at the question. “I do feel guilty. But that isn’t the only reason I’m doing this. I can’t undo what I’ve done in the past but I can try to make things better in the future, and this is something I know I can provide. I’d like to make sure it’s a secure, well staffed, well cared for facility, and if we could work together, I think it would benefit a lot of people. You’ve already rescued several people and there will be more, I just want to help with the aftermath. I know that plenty of people ended up there to begin with simply because they had no one to help them or nowhere else to go, so… I’d like to give them help, and give them a safe place to go to, and stay at for as long as they may need.” 

 “Do you think people will really trust something that has your name attached to it?” One of their coworkers asked.

 “I understand that concern, and for that reason I don’t want my name attached to this at all. I’m not doing this to take credit or earn anybody’s favor, I’m just trying to undo the mess I’ve contributed to. This is for the people who have been hurt, not for my own benefit.” He said, and he seemed to really mean it.

 On some level, Zander was impressed by this. He’d always known that somewhere inside him, Cain had the ability to be like this, kind, generous, thoughtful of other people, he just chose not to behave that way, but still, he thought it would take a lot more than a few days for him to come to his senses. He assumed Nicholas must’ve really done a number on him to make him change his mind so drastically. It was a little annoying that it may have taken experiencing that kind of mistreatment himself to finally make a change, but he figured it was better late than never. If he was serious about this, then he knew it would only help people, and that was more important than anything else. 

 ***

 Cain had asked to speak to them alone afterwards. Elias hadn’t stopped glaring at him since he’d first entered that room, through the entire meeting, no matter what Cain said he didn’t care, continuing to give him the same dirty look, even when Zander nudged him and gave him a look as if to tell him to knock it off.

 Had it been anyone else, Cain’s idea would’ve been amazing, would’ve been more than welcome. A shelter for all the pets they rescued, somewhere safe they could be brought to, taken care of, somewhere they could stay until family or friends were contacted, it was a good idea, but it was coming from Cain. He knew he shouldn’t have been so picky, it’s not like they couldn’t use the help, but he was just so angry at him.

 He didn’t know what he expected from Cain once it was just the three of them. Maybe for him to lash out, to scold him for the sour look on his face, berate him for being stupid, but he didn’t. Cain looked exhausted, almost nervous, he could hardly bring himself to even look at Eli directly.

 “Wren, I… I wanted to talk to you…” He said cautiously.

 “My name is Elias.” He snapped. “Not Wren, not Eli, only Elias to you.”

 “R-right, Elias.” He said, quickly correcting himself.

 “What do you want?” He asked bitterly, his arms crossed over his chest. “What could you possibly fucking have to say to me?”

 “I know you… you probably don’t want to hear it, but I, I wanted to apologize for… well, everything…” He said slowly. “I’m sorry, I really am…”

 For a moment, Eli didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never heard Cain sound so sincere before, but it didn’t matter how much he meant it, it didn’t matter how sincere he was, he could’ve been on his knees begging him for forgiveness, and Eli still wouldn’t have cared.

 “You’re sorry?” He finally asked after a few moments of tense silence.

 “I am, I’m so sorry.” He insisted.

 “You’re fucking sorry?!” He jumped from his seat, suddenly slamming his hands down on the table, causing both Cain and Zander to jump in surprise. “That’s it? That’s the best you can do? Sorry doesn’t fix things, sorry doesn’t bring back my fucking eyesight *sir!*” He shouted, gesturing to his blind eye. “Sorry doesn’t bring back my brother, sorry doesn’t fucking fix anything!”  

 “Eli-” Zander started, but he just turned his attention to him.

 “What?!” He snapped. “You’re not his fucking guard dog anymore, Zander, stop protecting him!” Zander immediately shut his mouth, but Eli didn’t feel bad for what he’d said, not yet anyway. 

 “You don’t fucking deserve my forgiveness.” He snarled at Cain. “You don’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness, I don’t care what you do to try and earn it, you’ll never have done enough to make up for the things you did!” He said. He couldn’t stand to look at Cain any longer, turning and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Zander would be just fine with him, he didn’t seem nearly as bothered as Eli was. Right then, he just wanted to get as far away from Cain Whitaker as he possibly could. 

 *** 

 “Is he… always that mean…?” Cain asked after a moment, and Zander sighed heavily.

 “No, you just bring out the worst in him.”

 “Oh… he has a brother…?” He asked hesitantly. 

 “He did. That’s not really my business to tell you about.” Zander shrugged. “Look, are you… are you really serious about this?” He asked, finally looking at Cain directly. “This could really help a lot of people, but I swear to god if you don’t mean it, if you’re just saying shit to make yourself feel better and getting everyone’s hopes up-”

 “I do mean it, I swear.” Cain insisted. “I don’t- I don’t know what it was like for you two when you got out, but I know for a fact, a lot of people who became pets were already in horrible conditions. I want to provide a safe place for them, I can fund that kind of thing. I can’t… I can’t undo what I did. You, Wren, so many others already have to live with the consequences of what I did, the least I can do is try to help those who survived.” 

 “Well, you’re right, it is the least you can do.” Zander said. “And… it’s not a bad idea. We can’t always get ahold of their families, it’s not always safe to send them home right away. They could really use something like that, I think. I got lucky, my moms were ready to take me home immediately, they’d already found them before I was even rescued. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.” 

 “If you could, I’d like it if you could talk to some of the others. I already have ideas but still, I think it would be a good idea to hear from them what their concerns were and what they feel would’ve helped them, I think that’s important.” He said seriously. 

 “Right…” Zander wanted to do what he said, but he knew somebody else would have to be appointed for that, he didn’t work close with the rescues just yet for a reason. “You know, you really got your shit together quickly.” He commented almost impulsively. “You- you’ve been free for days and you’ve already come up with this? Did being with Nicholas make you *that* remorseful?”

 “I… I guess it did. But it hasn’t been just a few days, I’ve thought about this before, about what I would do if I didn’t die there. I had a lot of time to think about it actually. I know- I know what I did was wrong, and being with Nicholas intensified that but… I knew even before. I knew when I was doing it, I knew when my father first introduced me to it, it’s always been wrong. I would give fucking anything to go back and put a stop to all this sooner but that’s not possible, this is all I can really do now.” He said.

 “Yeah…” He hesitated, debating if he really wanted to say what he was thinking in that moment, before giving in. “I’m proud of you, then.” He said. He had to glance away from Cain, he didn’t really want to see his look of disbelief. “A lot of people can’t admit they were wrong like that. You can only get better from here. I know Eli said what he said but still, I want you to earn that forgiveness from people. I think this is the way for you to do that.”

 “Thank you.” Cain blurted out. Zander already regretted saying it, he knew it would make Cain emotional. 

 “Don’t get too hung up on that.” He said dismissively. “Just- try to deserve it, okay?”

 “I will. I promise.” He told him, and Zander has known him long enough to know, he really did mean it.

 Zander left there that day feeling hopeful, for the first time in a while he thought maybe things would get better. There weren’t a lot of things they could really fix, there were people they couldn’t bring back, but trying to help the people who needed it now sounded promising at least. He knew Elias was still angry, angry that Cain showed his face there, that he was suddenly acting so good after everything he put them through, and he didn’t blame him for being upset. He planned on going to check on him, he really didn’t think he should be alone when he was this angry, and he could keep his own feelings towards Cain to himself. He knew Eli would absolutely freak out if he knew what he’d told him, would lose his mind even more if he knew Zander had given Cain his number before he left. He told him to only contact him if it was absolutely necessary, going against his own hopes and prayers he would never have to see him again, but it was becoming increasingly clear that wasn’t realistic, they were far from done with each other.

 He didn’t feel as upset about that as he thought he would.

[bills-pokedex]

(Mod Question)

Oh… was the state of Scarlet and Violet the reason why you took a hiatus?

{Admittedly, no—it just had hilariously excellent timing.

If we're talking about the blog alone, the hiatus was (and is, as it's still technically going on) purely accidental because of a cross between RL stuff and me spending a lot more time on original fic, which honestly makes me happier than writing fanfiction ever has. There's something about toying with a universe you've created entirely on your own—and, also admittedly, seeing how many people are actually interested in reading what you create. I'm actually working on three different novels at the moment, one of which I plan on self-publishing sometime next year (and another of which is a delightful fantasy romance that's best described as "powerverse meets FFXIV Endwalker," should anyone be interested), and the amount of support I've gotten from writeblr, Tumblr's writing community, for these novels has been incredible.

But really, I do it for the freedom and the peace of it. I sort of alluded to this when I left fandom as a whole, but when I was super involved with the fandom, I felt like I was constantly doing things for other people or changing parts of myself to please others, only to have people violate my boundaries, take advantage of me, treat me like crap, ignore me/my needs, etc, and then go off on me because I wasn't doing what they wanted. There are good people in fandom, don't get me wrong. It's just that there are also a lot of people who don't really acknowledge that other people on the internet are, you know. Other people. If you catch my drift.

Point is, I just wasn't having fun. At all. And I guess that's also why I haven't really been back all that much. It's been hard to do much with Pokémon because sometimes, when I look at anything to do with it, I'm just reminded of how many years I'd spent making myself miserable when I could have been embracing the things I love. Like, apparently, I really like film analysis, and I never really knew that before because I'd always spend my time talking about Pokémon? And lost media! I spent two hours watching somebody on YouTube talk about how they discovered the lost Saban Moon pilot, and it was incredible. And musicals—apparently, I love musicals too!

And then, the writing! I wrote an entire book that was probably about 75% one dude monologuing, and people actually liked it? Not a single comment was disparaging? They're excited to see me turn it into a book they can hold?

I guess what I'm trying to say is for a very long time, I wasn't having fun with fandom. If anything, I was just hanging around because I liked Bill and Lanette and because I felt like I had to in some respects. So I kinda had to leave to do my own thing and figure things out, and that became a hiatus for the blog too, not because I intended to leave it when I left fandom (I was planning on doing more of my own thing here, after all) but more because I realized I was just having more fun doing other stuff.

Now, again, don't get me wrong. I still like this blog and want to continue running it. It's just that it isn't as much of a priority for me as it used to be. Will I ever close the askbox and write an ending? Maybe. I'd thought about it, even. It's been a couple of years since we last really heard from Bill and Lanette, and I had thoughts about writing a post in which we find out they've gotten married and started in on a new project—maybe even lay the foundations of Halcyon Labs, as a nod to one of my fanfics. But if that post ever comes, it'll be some time far off, I think. I'm not quite done with this blog just yet.

But! Yes, I'm still on hiatus. Technically.}

[candidapple]

Hi! I just wanted to talk about "got to pay the toll" a little. Others have already said it, but your characterization of the tweels is just so good I keep going back to read older chapters over and over again just because of it. I also love how you pepper in some words and analogies related to the sea it gives the fic a very distinctive vibe and it feels kind of personal to jade & floyd? Like 'yep this fic IS about them and they're living in your head rent free now whether you like it or not.' I don't know if I'm expressing myself right but I enjoy that a lot!

Now about the latest chapter I wanted to let you know I feel myself going just a little bit more feral every time I think about what jade's reaction could've been when the reader whimpered his name because I think it's the first time that she's done that (explicitly at least)? He's definitely the kind of character I wish I could read the mind of, but also not really because his calculated cunning is what makes him annoyingly fun. Also the fact reader did that reminds of what someone said about jade aiming at something by letting floyd think he's getting a lot of her firsts in the sense that if she had to pick one of them for something it feels like she'd choose jade. In comparison to floyd he's been far more considerate for a lack of a better word and floyd might let him do what he wants (or at least not fight as hard) if he feels he's gotten more than a fair share of reader's firsts. I might be completely wrong about that though. Speaking of floyd, I just think it's hilarious how he seems to completly lose himself whenever reader takes just a little bit of initiative to make him feel good. He's so down bad I feel like reader could take advantage of that if she wanted to, but it's perfectly expected and understandable that she'd rather maul them both instead (her sassy bit with the unagi was so funny I loved it).

I feel like I'm just rambling now so I'm gonna leave it at that and sorry about the long ask I just had to let it out! Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us and take care!

gonna preface my response by saying that i never, ever want any of my readers to feel bad or awkward or apologetic for sending me long asks or leaving long comments. i get giddy whenever someone takes the time out of their day to leave me a one-to-two sentence review along the lines of "hey! nice fic dude" so you can imagine the raptures i go into when someone drops entire PARAGRAPHS in my inbox. i treasure every kind word someone sends my way, and i treasure the people who send them 💙

i am happy and relieved to hear that you haven't yet tired of the rampant sea imagery and i guess this means i don't have to add a self-deprecating tag along the lines of "take a shot every time the author uses an ocean-related simile." i'm glad that moment with the reader saying jade's name stood out for you because it was one of my personal favorites as well as being one of the first scenes i thought of when i initially conceived the fic.

as for what jade was thinking in that moment... i don't want to dispel too much of the mystery because the not knowing is half the fun, buuut: you know how jade warned floyd that he shouldn't spoil their plans by losing patience and taking the reader over the table? he might have been projecting a little bit there.

i know the comment to which you're referring and again i don't want to spoil too much but since you've ventured a good guess already i will confirm that jade's playing a long game by allowing floyd to take so many of the reader's "firsts." as for where it's heading and how it'll ultimately pan out... you'll find out in the final chapter! stay tuned!!

very very pleased that the unagi scene seems to be such a hit; i and my sense of humor are feeling validated in this chili's tonight. thank you for sending this in; i'm always happy to discuss my writing with you guys (or your writing, if you wanna talk about it) and i hope you swing by again sometime!

[culttvblog]

Number 6 was a Plant: The Chimes of Big Ben

You can read the introduction to this series of posts examining the suggestion that Number 6 could be a plant, here: https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/738540162388213760/number-6-was-a-plant-introduction Perhaps I should also have said in the introduction that I have arbitrarily decided to follow the ITC order of episodes for these posts. I still want to do some posts about the order of the episodes, and am reminded that Chimes of Big Ben this early in the run makes absolutely no sense from the viewer's point of view, because it means poor Number 6 has barely arrived and the Village authorities are talking about the remaining tactics that they haven't tried yet.

In my last post, about Arrival, I commented that if you want to see Number 6 as a plant, then his investigation is equally divided between finding out what is happening in the Village and testing its security to desctruction by trying to leave it. In Chimes of Big Ben he reaches the apogee of his attempts to leave by attempting to make it back to London. I am therefore in no doubt that his intention is clearly to test the Village's security, and he must therefore be motivated by rumoured excapes or cover-ups in the Village. He approaches trusted (?former) colleagues in London and tells them about the Village.

I would suggest, based on their reaction, that Number 6 has self-allocated this assignment. On the evidence of this episode he has not been 'planted' by British intelligence authorities, because they just repeat the same questions he has already been asked mutliple times in the Village. It is strangely comforting that it completely fits with Number 6's maverick personality that he would hear about corruption and escapes in the Village and assign himself to investigate it by appearing to resign and having it backfire on him.

He has made a real mistake, because his resignation has been convincing so everyone else in the episode, both in the Village and from Britain, is proceeding as if he has resigned and they just treat him as a prisoner of the Village. He has set up such a convincing cover story that he's then caught in Village security himself and can't escape! Perhaps he should have told someone before resigning...

This episode does reinforce that he is clearly someone very senior in intelligence, not least judging by the Whitehall types who know him. I would also suggest that in the scene where Number 2 invites him to watch Nadia wake up and he watches the various 'treatments' going on in the hospital, he is being treated much more as a senior, trusty, managerial visitor than a lowly new boy.

If you wanted to be particularly critical of the way Number 6 is going about his investigation, you could say that he's going about his test escape in a particularly cack-handed way because of his complete trust of Nadia, when he is resolutely suspicious of everyone else in the Village, including her at first. However it could be that Number 6's acts of finding out what is what at the Village naturally include trying out everything, including the Village authorities' smoke and mirrors.

I would therefore conclude from this episode that based on the events depicted it is still possible to view Number 6 as a plant, although probably a self-planted one, and his actions as attempts to investigate the Village and test its security to destruction.

A couple of other things have struck me about this episode on this viewing:

I really don't like the scene where Number 2 invites NUmber 6 watch Nadia waking up in her house. I frankly find it a bit pervy, them both watching her. The Village authorities would have some justification in their own eyes because she will just have been drugged and is waking up in a copy of her own home, both of which are bound to be traumatic. But inviting Number 6 to watch her is way out of line to my mind.

For some reason I notice that when I'm tryingto watch it thinking of one way of understanding it The Prisoner always makes me think of other ways as well, and obviously this time it's going to make me think that the Village is like a cult. In The Chimes of Big Ben this becomes especially clear in the art competition where literally every exhibit is all about the cult's charismatic leader, which is proper freaky.

Be seeing you!

This blog is mirrored at

culttvblog.tumblr.com/archive (from September 2023) and culttvblog.substack.com (from January 2023 and where you can subscribe by email)

Archives from 2013 to September 2023 may be found at culttvblog.blogspot.com and there is an index to the tags used on the Tumblr version at https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/729194158177370112/this-blog

[abyssalcreator21]

Adulting Thoughts # 3

It has been a while since I wrote an entry on my blog. A lot of things had happened during the month and I had been for a social media detox for two straight weeks already. Time is just fast anyways but somehow it's just sucks to wait for too long for graduation. Still one month to go and I'm itching to get my diploma. Most of the time, I just play mobile games, watch movies with my girlfriend, or even sleep a lot ever since I'm done with my studies and a got a good grade from it. Now, I am waiting for two interviews that i have tried to apply on and wait for their response for an interview. I'm just keeping my contacts open, but Facebook, it has been two to three weeks already since I deactivated my account because of private reasons. I have been just this reserved person in my home that I don't have any updates in how are the people I knew from online are doing. Yeah, after two to three weeks, I've learned just in this little scope of time. First, trust only a few people that you want to be close with, and second, you don't have to publicize your life on social media, because once it backbites you, you'll get traumatized of going back. Being distressed to whatever shit you have experienced online. I get that right now because it had happened to me and honestly, it drives me now to be off-grid. I just instantly gone from being publicly present online to becoming a ghost in the social media scene. It takes for a while for me to recover from the karma I received from what I have done. Now, I'm better at least but somehow the humiliation has given me the wake-up call to leave the community I thought I am blending well already, but in a matter of seconds, it gets ruined by a simple mistake and honestly it leaves a bad taste in my mouth being talked all over a group chat and it leaves a permanent reminder in me that I don't have to be friendly with anyone. I could blend in but I need to be more vigilant to whom I wanted to be part of my inner circle. I'd still have my friends with me that constantly updates of how I am doing and we haven't bonded that much since they are also busy with their individual lives. Now, I'm just here at home waiting for updates about graduation. I'd still have a long way for self-improvement and to be honest, it's quite hard to adjust yet but I'm just working on it. As my uncle said, move on with my life and leave anything toxic behind. Well, I like it anyway that I am invisible again. I don't like to give a fuck anyway to other people's comments about me of what I have did. I know my mistakes, it's just draining to deal with it that I have to fix my reputation or build a redemption arc. Fuck it. I'll simply leave and never go back again. I'm fine anyways of protecting my peace now. I wanna maintain this after all for the rest of my life. Having my personal privacy being protected and never be present again in social media.

[kierancampire]

I think it's just not having the best night and day, it's caused negativity in my mind.

But i was just thinking how, my family and kids in school probably don't remember religiously making fun of my legs and knees growing up. But i do. My mum probably doesn't remember mocking and laughing at the way i swam. But i do. The parents who waited to pick up their kids up outside primary school probably don't remember the day i left school, and they all laughed at me how tiny i was and how large my head was. But i do. The kids in highschool probably don't remember constantly mocking me and how emotional i got when they did. But i do. On one of the final days of school, my friend group came up to me and admitted they just chatted shit about me on Xbox Live and said i was like a Jockey from Left4Dead, they probably don't remember that. But i do. The girl who was handing out leaflets to a club to everyone who passed leaving school, but then drew her hand back when i passed to avoid giving me one, she probably doesn't remember that. But i do. The teachers and school staff who openly made fun of me constantly being ill and "dramatic" and "no fun" probably don't remember that. My teacher in school who called me stupid probably doesn't remember that. But i do. The teacher in school who said my art sucked so much i should give up probably doesn't remember that. But i do. The teacher who called me hopeless in the kitchen probably doesn't remember that. But i do. But i do. The people in college probably don't remember making fun of me because i was gay. But i do. The countless people who have shouted things at me in the street and literally pointed and laughed at me probably don't remember doing that. But i do. The amount of people who have said we would stay in contact but never did, they probably don't remember me. But i do. The friends who only would see me in school or college and never out of it probably don't remember me. But i do. The people who used me probably don't remember using me. But i do.

It took my years to accept my legs. I stopped swimming. I am still learning how to show emotions around others. Although i am much better in public now, i still greatly suffer from anxiety, insecurity, and pure fear when around others. There are so many things i want to do, but i stop myself because i don't want to give people more chances to attack me. And yes, i struggle so fucking hard in myself. The thing is, it isn't even the people who openly mock me that solely hurt. It's the lack of attention on dating apps. It's the fact that no one has hit on me, chatted me up or asked for my number. It's the fact that i see other men post selfies with their cats in groups and receive comments about hot cat dads, yet I've never received that once. The fact that some people actively go out of their way to praise me to try and make me feel good about myself, in a way they don't do with no one else. The screaming and laughing at me that I'm ugly hurt, but it's also those constant subtle reminders.

My whole life people have attacked every single aspect of me, and i know that can be "normal", but not to the level and consistency i deal with it. I only told one person, but literally last week as i sat outside Asda a group of boys were making fun of me. I've taken a few selfies recently but i haven't been able to share them. So little in my life has gone right, so little is okay, look at my current housing issues, look at my current financial issues, look at how i have no friends, look at how alone i am, look at how shit my health is. I just wanna know when I've gone through enough for things to start being okay. When have i suffered enough for something good to happen. When do i deserve to feel self worth. I almost made it through this without crying.

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[peeterparkr]

red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

-

next chapter

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[hyunverse]

BUNGA (FLOWER) | FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

gender neutral.

summary; you’re megumi’s dream person.

note; i wrote this bcs my birth name is actually a type of flower ugh the self indulgence also i like butterflies. also inspired by a song called bunga by masdo. i recommend listening to the song while reading. bunga means flower in malay!! also pls open the gif for better quality.

YOU REMIND MEGUMI OF A FLOWER. white orchids; they symbolize purity. and that’s exactly what you are to him.

fushiguro megumi remembers this one day when he and tsumiki had went to a flower garden together. he didn’t know why tsumiki suddenly felt like visiting a garden, but he followed anyway. he observed as his sister looked at the flowers around them, a smile never leaving her face and her eyes were practically sparkling. it felt nice to see his sister actually enjoy herself, especially after their parents got up and abandoned them, leaving tsumiki with all the house chores.

“look at all these flowers!”, tsumiki caressed the petals with her fingers, thumb gently gliding over the flowers, “they look so nice, don’t you think so megumi?”

megumi didn’t reply, he opted to stand beside his older sister. tsumiki explained the symbolisms of the flowers she knew of. the raven head looked stoic, as if he wasn’t listening to any of her words but the truth is, he was. he found the symbolism behind the white orchids particularly interesting. it suited the orchids’ physical appearance. white and innocence just made sense.

as the siblings chatted (though it technically was one sided on tsumiki’s part), a cat walked towards the duo. the ball of orange fur purred and nudged it’s head on tsumiki’s legs, immediately getting the teenage girl’s attention. she kneeled down, her previous smile growing wider.

petting the cat, she looked up at her younger brother, “aren’t cats so adorable?”.

“yeah,” megumi uttered. a lie. he wasn’t a big fan of cats, he found them annoying. dogs are better, that’s what he believed in but he didn’t have the heart to say that to his sister. not when she looks the happiest she had been in a while.

“and the weather’s really nice today!”, she added, eyes glancing up at the sky. the sun was glaring right into her eyes, so her pupils shrunk. she didn’t mind however, she had always loved sunny days. the sunlight shone right above their heads, and megumi didn’t like it. he could feel drops of sweat trickling down his back, causing his shirt to cling onto his skin. megumi much prefers when it’s cloudy, shades of grey in the sky, the perfect weather for staying at home and reading books.

even so, he just nodded, “mhm.”

shortly the sun started to set, spreading orange hues throughout the sky. flocks of birds returned to their nests, and so the fushiguro siblings made their way back to their abode. on their way tsumiki stole glances at her brother, letting out a dry chuckle everytime she notices the lack of expression on his face.

“you should smile more you know, megumi”, she ruffled his erratic hair, “you won’t get much friends if you keep on frowning like that”, she teased.

he grumbled, “i don’t care if i don’t have friends.”

megumi thought it was ridiculous. why would it matter, anyway? he’s fine being alone. people are bothersome; they’re too loud and they stress him out. especially the stupid punks in school who thinks they could do whatever they want. megumi simply shrugged and pushed his sister’s words out of his mind. scratch smiling and being likeable.

yet here he is, smiling at you. over no particular reason too.

currently, he’s walking along a beach with you. you; dressed up in a white sundress, a pair of sandals in your right hand. the sand burns under fushiguro’s feet but he couldn’t feel it over the fast thumping of his heart, he couldn’t feel the heat when his whole skin is tingling. he trolls behind you, walking over the footsteps you made. your sundress flows to the rhythm of your walk, flying slightly up when the wind blows your way, exposing the plush skin of your thighs. fushiguro looks away from your figure, his fair complexion tinted with blush.

you’re his best friend, he’s not supposed to look at you like that.

“it’s so nice here, megumi!”, you call out to him as you stand at the edge of the sea. waves crash, they trickle up to your toes. with a smile you hold up your hand for megumi to hold.

bashfully, megumi walks up to you and takes your hand in his. he’s reluctant, for he dislikes his hands. they’re cold and filled with callouses. so when you grip his hand as though you didn’t intend to let go, when your thumb rubs against his, he feels less insecure of his hands. the sensation of your hand in his is hot, it burns; however it feels nice.

megumi fushiguro hates warmth, but if it’s your warmth, he’d enjoy burning in heat.

the sand by the sea doesn’t feel hot on your feet. the waves get bigger and bigger; till they reach up to your ankles. you giggle because it tickled, the sound of your laughs reaching megumi’s ears. he turns to his side to see you crouching down, collecting the water in your hands.

that’s when megumi concluded, your whole existence screams purity.

a week later megumi meets you again. sometime at 11pm, by an oak tree—your usual meeting spot. the oak tree is large, it’s impossible to miss it. you stand under the oak tree, allowing dried leaves to fall onto your head, getting stuck in your hair. you know megumi would get all the leaves out of your hair. he does it everytime. he’ll pick out all the leaves out of your hair while lecturing you, though his words enter one ear then out from another. no matter how many times he says “i can’t do this all the time”, even he himself knows he would.

from afar megumi watches his best friend run around the flower field, chasing butterflies. your hair gets swept away by the wind as your hands stretch up to the sky, desperately trying to get a butterfly to land on your hand. you’re wearing a jumpsuit, the white color of the material truly brought out your skin tone. your complexion is glistening, and it makes megumi’s heart throb.

“they’re scared of you, y/n,” he finally says, putting both your hands down. the butterflies fly away from your sight, and you pout.

“but they’re so pretty,” you sigh, watching as the butterflies choose to fly anywhere but on your fingers. and then one lands on top of megumi’s shoulder.

your eyes widen, holding the sides of megumi’s figure to make him stay still. megumi could see sparks in your eyes when you admire the blue butterfly. soft is the expression you wear on your face. he likes it on you. that cute expression of yours makes megumi fall five times harder for you even when he knows he shouldn’t.

“you’re like a flower ‘gumi. it likes you.”

ridiculous, he thinks. you’re the flower. it’s obvious by the way your body moves under the moonlight, and how insanely beautiful you are.

fushiguro megumi doesn’t say anything in return, as always. he rarely does. if possible, he wants to avoid you from finding out just how in love he is with you.

after that day, you never show up under the oak tree, a few minutes distance from jujutsu high. he’ll wait for hours long only to be disappointed.

--at least not until his birthday comes, about a few months later. his face turns pale once he spotted you. you wait by the jujutsu high gate with a wide smile on his face, as if you didn’t ghost him for three months.

"glad to see you doing okay," the apple of your cheeks seem more prominent when you smile, megumi feels an urge to kiss them.

"i haven't seen you in so long," megumi mumbles, "happy to see you here today."

you grin and hold up your hand for him to take per usual, and didn’t mutter anymore words until the two of you reach a café in the outskirts of tokyo.

“nice café,” the raven comments , glancing at you. you’re wearing a puffy sleeved white blouse now—honestly, do you only own white clothes?

“found it on instagram”, you mutter, “i thought you’d like it. happy birthday, megumi.”

megumi smiles for the first time today. as a jazz song plays, he eats the birthday cake you purchased for him quietly. the cake tastes delicious (to be fair, anything you buy him is perfect) because it’s not too sweet. the fact that you remember his preference makes his smile grow a little wider.

you hum to the song and rest your head on his shoulder. it seems like the two of you are the only ones in the café—a much needed privacy. you’re usually touchy with him, and he prefers affection to be private. typically they make megumi blush, and he doesn’t want people to witness him all flustered.

“did you miss me, megumi?”, he replies to your question by nodding and placing his hand on top of yours.

serenity is this feeling, megumi thinks.

at the corner of the café stands an antique grandfather clock. it’s sounds are so loud, they resonate the whole environment. megumi suddenly becomes hyper aware of the sound, there’s a pounding in his head. the sound becomes louder and louder, to the point where megumi couldn’t feel your skin under his. he shuts his eyes close, an impossibly bright light glares his eyes.

“fushiguroooo!”, an annoying voice yells. itadori’s voice, megumi is certain.

the pounding in his head slows down. his sapphire eyes flutter open, and he realizes the light he saw was sunlight rays peeking through his blinds.

“seriously fushiguro, we’ve been calling you for an hour now. hurry up, we’re going out to eat in five. to celebrate your birthday”, megumi looks up to see nobara standing behind itadori. 

they’re both leaning against his door frame. itadori is dressed in a yellow hoodie, while nobara rocks a coat over a turtleneck. the female sorcerer holds her toy hammer tight in her grip, her eyes boring through megumi’s figure. by her posture, megumi guesses she was about to hit him with the squeaky hammer if only he didn’t wake up sooner.

fucking menaces, they could’ve left him to sleep for a little more. he hasn’t seen you in so long, he wanted to sleep in to spend time with you.

finally rubbing his eyes awake, the boy looks at the vase of orchids sitting on his nightstand. he sighs before standing up.

megumi will find you someday, he promises. if you’re a flower, he’ll gladly be the butterfly.

✉ taglist: @aliteama @dearsukuna @cybergoo @hanniemilk @ariasann @soulasdarkascoffee @okusetomura @eidotheiapriv @maat-the-prescriptive @etoilezone @elipres @scarednekozz @iridescentkitsune @crapimahuman @nectar0sw33t @hq149 @bluedelphinium @bokutos-babyowl @behan @tdntu0 @sunaluvs @guardianangelswings @fairywriter-oracle @inu-makki @erinisbadger

tagging; @candleohappiness , @haru-senji <333

[camslightstories]

Tolerate It - Part 12

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers. Female Reader. 

Notes: Hey guys! How are you all doing? Well its been a long time since I updated tolerate it and its because I haven't had much inspiration, I been in a literal block, a part from that everything i been writing lately I hate it but I didn't want to let you guys hanging. So thanks to @captain-josslett​ for checking and helping me in this part.

I love to hear your theories, opinions, suggestions and more so if you have any comments leave on my inbox or message me. I wanna hear what you guys think is going to happen or what you want to happen. But right now I'm not receiving any requests since my inbox is full of them and I don't wanna leave you guys hanging. I hope you guys enjoy, and have a great day!

Taglist: @multi-images​  @captain-josslett​  @aznblossom​  @venteen​   @coxmicbabygirl​  @lezzzbehonesthere​ 

Russian Translations:

Принцесса - Princess

The throbbing pain surges through your body as the cotton full of alcohol touches your wound softly, sending chills through your body. You laid on the white hospital bed in silence as your ex-girlfriend check the ripped wound on your torso.

With the myriad of thoughts and feelings running through your head only to fail, making you groan. Lena glances at you carefully and curiously as you kept quiet, her focus not leaving the ripped wound she was trying to mend. Noticing the different types of scars on your body some of them longer and worse looking.

“Can you tell me how does it feel?” She asks, gulping down when you made no move to speak. With her voice full of worry, she nods and takes her gloves off, only to stop when you spoke loud enough for her to hear.

“It’s fine” You state, keeping your eyes on the ceiling. In a monotone voice, as your heart almost bounced off your chest when she asked. 

Clenching your fists, you move to sit only to groan in full pain as the wound touches the shirt cotton. The green-eyed woman immediately runs to your side, with fear. You took a deep breath before helping yourself up ignoring her questioning expression. 

The Luthor woman out of desperation yells as tears fill her eyes. Throwing her hands into the air. “Can you at least look me in the eye?! Talk to me!”

“What do you want me to say, Ms. Luthor?” You answered rubbing your temples at the sound of her voice, a neutral tone and expression on your face as you looked at her. Her green eyes full of retained tears and her lip trembles as she looks at you. 

She cried, cleaning furiously her tears as you looked at her. The last word came out quieter than the rest, showing a hurting part of herself. “I don't know! Just… please.”

“Ms. Luthor, I don't know what to say to you, nor I know what you wanna hear and I'm sure you don't either.” You answer in a soft yet determined tone as you tried to walk away only for Lena to get in the way crossing her arms as she tried to keep control of her emotions.

“You are just going to walk away?” She remarked loudly, exasperated for an answer. You stopped as you heard the words coming out of her mouth, the obvious distress in them.

 “It seems to be the only thing you can do,” She added looking at you in the eye. You shifted uncomfortably before moving past her as fast as you could, ignoring her scoff.

She scoffed as you walked away from her, clenching your fits trying to find control as you felt the urge to yell at the black-haired woman. Now the free-flowing feelings in you have become stronger and harder to restrain.

You press your lips together and clench your jaw when the black-haired woman shouts loudly and desperately at you. “What about the ring?! What did I feel? What about everything?! Because you are here pretending nothing happen”

The smell of the alcohol invaded your nose, as the itching pain on your lower stomach kept throbbing, feelings run around your heart and head openly without any control. The white lights annoy your eyes as you try to focus on something else only to fail. The sneaky feeling tugging at your heart when you heard the break in her voice. 

The feeling of conflict as the two sides of yourselves began to fight on how to act, how to feel, how to be normal. One part of you asked you, begged specifically to go and wrap the green-eyed woman in a comforting embrace, protecting her from getting hurt. And the other remained you from all the pain, the anger, the sadness you had resorted to when you left and reminded you how easy life was when there was everything clear with a common goal. 

Lena shouted again this time, in an angrier and determinate tone. Stepping closer to you, in her CEO stance but the only difference was the fact that it looked forceful like she was trying so hard to hold it together, you heard her in her voice, in the way her feet hesitated to step closer. And as much as you hated it, it broke you inside. “Y/N! Just tell me something!”

You didn't know, how, when nor why, you turned around facing her with your heart clenching at the sight of her tears springing free. Her eyes looked tired and sorrowful, her cheeks were covered in tears and the ruined makeup, her hands were in a fist that you could tell where a base for self-control. You hated the pain she was revving, you hated the sadness in her eyes, and the tears that sprung freely but never even if you tried you could hate her. 

“Just fuck off, dammit!” Your mind seemed to be in automatic mode when the words came out of your mouth. The green-eyed took a step back in shock when you snapped, the now wide-eyed woman made you regret every decision in your life as her eyes restrained hardly the tears she desired to disappear. 

Against every fiber in your body, you shocked your head before starting again, glancing at your ex-girlfriend. Cutting the tension you took a deep breath before speaking, gaming Lena’s attention. “Look-”

You weren't even in the middle of what you were going to say when two well-known, familiar voices interrupted you. You tensed as you heard the voice of your sisters, the urge to just walk out and the urge to shout everything out were confronting each other as your mind running with all the different scenarios. “Y/N!” 

You kept quiet as your sisters got closer, without hesitation you started to walk away to the run you had been staying only for a familiar blur to stand in front of the door with her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. Hope, happiness, and regret radiated out of her, while Alex stood behind you with a determined look on her face as you turned around to walk the other way. 

A part of you wanted to yell at them until there wasn't anything left and the other wanted to walk away leaving everything behind to keep leaving the simple life you had been living for the past 3 years. Lena kept quiet as her mind kept doing rounds of possible explanations, while both of your sisters decided to stand in front of you with nothing but questions. But you remained silent as they did. 

Questions such as “Why do you have so many scars?” “What is the tattoo on your chest?” “What do you mean of the Bratva?” “Why were you with Roulette the other night?” were thrown at you by your older sisters as you tried to ignore each one, only for them to keep pressing. 

Lena had stayed in the same place, as they interrogated you. The black-haired woman somehow noticed the way your patience was getting closer to the end when you clenched your fit with so much force that the veins on your arms started to show slowly. 

“Don't you think we deserve an explanation?” Kara asked, taking a step closer, which made you clench your jaw, the feelings running around your body screamed at you as the pain and anger started to build by second. 

The feeling of anger and betrayal under all of those layers you tried to put up, under what you thought it would make you okay, it would make the pain go away, the memories, the feelings, everything... 

Your oldest sister yelled, getting frustrated by the minute. “Feel free to fill up the blanks, but it seems that you are not going to do that are you?”  The redhead asks sarcastically, covering somehow the relief of how you were but adding the worry of what had happened in the last few years. 

When you didn't respond, ignoring the redhead. Your sister hits the table with her fists showing her frustration. Kara looked back where Alex stood with both of her hands on the table as she looked at you angrily. You stared at her, challenging the redhead, making Lena furrow her eyes when she noticed Alex walking back where Kara stood in front of you letting out a scoff. 

“Don't you think we as your family don't deserve to know?” Kara asked with sorrow in her eyes and voice. Tears swelling up in her eyes as she searched in your eyes for any sign of her baby sister finding none but a challenging glare to the redhead and her now.

You felt everything come out, and you were seeing red. As you were about to snap, a strong familiar voice shouted in determination stopping you. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Your clenched jaw and fists kept the pressure making your vivid expression and reaction be acknowledged by all of them. 

Oliver had been standing with Anatoly catching sight of the interaction between you and your sisters. The blonde man remembers vividly how going back the emptiness, the feeling of just wanting the pain to get away, the angriness at the world, every single detail. Seeing the mark on your chest, oblivious to outsiders but obvious to him, a torturous feeling in your chest as you tried to keep yourself in the corner, in the darkness, where you knew not to expect anything. 

He saw the expression in your face, the way your eyebrows knitted together, the way your hands were converted into fists drawing blood at the pressure, the way you clenched your jaw, trying to keep control, the way your eyes were painted deep down with suffering but were void and incomprehensible on the outside, the way you tried to distance yourself into the darkness feeling the only calmness there, the way every time your fists hit something were not in act of defense or attack but in letting your hidden feelings out.  

The way you tried to keep control, of yourself, of your feelings, of the world around you, of the memories, of everything but you, felt powerless in the darkness. Feeling the need to yell and run away from everything, to isolate yourself from the world, believing and trusting in yourself and only trying to keep everything inside. 

“Принцесса, I see you finally decided to escort somebody” Your focus immediately went to the Russian man when he spoke, walking closer to you with a black garment suit bag in his right hand. Holding it up, as you make your way to grab it. His teasing voice made you roll your eyes while snatching the bag out of his hands. 

Smiling at Lena and your sisters, the man walked closer to them as he spoke. Making you sighed in annoyance, while Oliver suppressed a smile. Lena looked at the man in the suit and took his hand with a firm handshake, Kara and Alex following to do the same as he presented himself. “Anatoly Knyazev, at your service. Принцесса friend”

“Work partner, if you don't have vodka or I don't have the green light with your new friend and I'm not courting anyone” You corrected giving him an annoying look, he shook his head when you hissed irritated. 

The Russian man grinned at you before shaking his head as he spoke. “Roulette is not our business associate anymore, too ambitious and mercenary for her own good”

“Nice, then friend. I'm gonna go change, and I can solve a certain complication” You grinned sheepishly, which made Oliver sighed while your sisters and your ex-girlfriend looked at you curiously. 

The Queen man waited for you to be out of hearing sight to speak “This isn't helping”

Anatoly kept quiet as he sat on the sofa, while Oliver spoke. Lena and your sisters stood in front of him, each one of them with expressions of annoyance and worry. 

The blonde man took a step back, crossing his arms as he tried to reason with them before either of the three could respond. "I get it you guys want answers, but right now she needs to let herself be vulnerable again, she needs to feel safe, to feel she isn't in the darkness anymore and neither you nor I know what she went through and it's not going to help if you guys keep pressuring her”

The explanation had left the three feeling uneasy

“You do not get to tell me how to treat my sisters, Queen.” Alex spits at the vigilante. Lena and Kara try to calm the redhead down but your voice stops them. 

“Let’s go” You enter the room and sensing the tension between the two, but you ignore it and walk to where the Russian man sits. Catching the attention of the group of four turning around to see you grabbing the gun from the shelf putting it behind the jacket you carried. 

Alex didn't think twice before running up to you grabbing you by the upper arm, holding you back when you tried to get out of her grasp. Oliver sighed as you spoke, your eyes connected yours and hers in a glance, the staredown between the two created a visible tension. “Alexandra, let me go”

Tilting your head when Kara stepped in to put her hand on your oldest sister's shoulder, looking between the two before walking away with the Russian man by your side. 

----

Entering the car shop you notice the obvious and threatening silence. Letting out a sarcastic sigh when you heard the sudden movement behind the next wall, the sound of the gun clicking, and the pushing from the same source. You looked at the Russian man before shaking your head to the side, taking out your gun. 

Walking down the stairs you felt the end of the arm on the back of your head, and a hand topping your mouth. You kept in place for a second, raising your arms, before flipping the person down the stairs, keeping the gun in your hand before discharging it and throwing it away.

You walked down the stairs before shooting at the man on his thigh when the other two came out. You rolled your eyes when the two guys pulled their guns at you but were thrown to the side when an arrow hit them. Noticing the green arrow you sighed in annoyance before continuing.

“Leave it alone” Anatoly who sat on the chair waiting for you to be done, looked over to the group of four noticing your sisters and ex-girlfriend's expression of shock, while Oliver made his way to you. Noticing the man behind you, you spoke threateningly at him, before turning around. 

----

The tall brunette guy who was now with a black eye and a busted lip, as you kept your hold on his throat. You murmured when the guy kept silent. “Okay then it's the hard way”

Pushing him down before shooting him, you looked over to the black-haired man staring at you with wide eyes. You walked where he was before lowering to the floor having the same eye contact, you looked at him and recognized the immediate fear before speaking. “Taking a wild guess, I'm gonna say you don’t wanna end up like those two, do you?”

The man without thinking shook his head, which made you let out a sarcastic laugh tilting your head at him before helping him up. “Okay, then where is Roulette?”

“I don't know, I don't know” He kept sputtering and shaking his head.  

“She left this morning and left us here with the order to keep watch on someone” When you took a step closer to the guy, making him speak which made you look at him curiously before pushing him to the wall.

“On who?” You asked. 

“Her, Lena Luthor” He responded, whispering only for you to hear, looking over where your ex-girlfriend stood.

A switch had changed and in seconds you felt everything come out, the rage, the pain, and in seconds you were seeing red. The calm, determined dementor had changed to an angry, protective one. A sudden outburst was what you had. 

Moving your arm, pinning the man onto the wall with anger, you spoke eagerly and unease, threatening. Rage in your eyes, as you claimed to press harder into his chest, making the man cough in pain. “You tell Roulette that if she even thinks of breathing the same air in a 200 miles area as Ms. Luthor then I would make her life a living hell and everyone who is with her too”

Kara, who was listening in, smiled softly before looking down. The outburst had shown your care for her best friend, and that was a baby step that meant more than anything. The fact that you snapped at the moment your ex-girlfriend began mentioning showed that maybe it wasn't lost at all.

Your oldest sister looked at Kara curiously, before giving her a shoulder bump, giving her a questioning glance while your sister responded with a silent glance to you and a smile. 

You pulled away from the man, giving him a second to breathe before striking your fist right at his jaw. Immediately knocking him down, the sound of the body plumb into the floor made you realize what just had happened, the myriad of feelings flowing through your mind were taken out the moment an arrow grazed your cheek and the soreness of your knuckles were now bothering you.

Looking behind you, identifying the red arrow, you let out a laugh before taking it out of the wall, throwing it to the side before turning around, softly moving your hand trying to relieve the ache. Oliver seemed to have caught up with the situation as he grabbed the arrow letting out a sigh.

“Still doing the same?” You shouted turning around where Thea stood on the top of the car with her bow in hand and black leather jacket on. A smirk on her face as the brunette jumped landing on the floor perfectly before making her way to you.

“I see you hadn't left the throne, princess” She claimed, teasing the last word. The two of you sharing a silent glance, when she came down. The small spark in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by you and neither by Oliver. 

“And you are not so intimidating, princess” You flirted with the brunette, cleaning the small substance of blood coming out of the graze on your cheek with a teasing smile.

Lena knew the tone you were using, the smile you gave her, the little spark in your voice and eyes as you did. You were flirting with her, the jealousy feeling creeping inside her chest as she noticed. Drawing daggers in the brunettes back, she stood straight pulling out her CEO stand and expression, even if she felt her heart begin twisted remembering the once she was the one receiving the smile, the glance, the tone, everything. And she hoped that one day you would do it again. 

[partywithgyu]

TXT REACTION.

Work keeping them away from their S/O.

//Gender neutral.//

//Mentions of a sprained ankle and stress.//

Choi Yeonjun. 

You knew, Yeonjun loved you. He had told you that so many times. You loved him too. There was something else that you two gave a lot of attention to; your careers. Well, that's how things can be in this world. However, Yeonjun was kept more occupied than you. Having time to spend with him, but him being busy often led to disappointment. Yeonjun knew that. 

On this very night, he waited outside your apartment for you. The lift opened to reveal your drunk self, holding onto your bestie. The other two smiled at each other. "Thanks for dropping me," you sang to your bestie who just chuckled. "Your turn to be the designated driver next time." "Ay. Ay. Captain." 

"You should have told me you were coming," you whined as you looked for the apartment key in your bag. "I wanted to surprise you, babe. I missed you," he said as he watched you hand him the key. Your lips curved into a small child like smile. "Open it for me." He clicked his tongue, taking the key from your hand. "I told you I missed you. Tell me you missed me too," he complained making you chuckle. "I wanna pee. Open the door!" "First tell me you missed me." "I miss you a lot all the time. Now open." 

Well, he was kind enough to open the door after. The two then stuck to the night routine before laying on the bed. It was after days that you were laying beside him. It felt nice. You didn't enjoy laying by yourself all alone. Especially on nights when sleep deserted you. That's when you felt the loneliest. He noticed the way you had shifted so close to him. There was a small smile on your face as he wrapped his arm around you. "So cozy. I haven't been sleeping well for the past few days," you said to him. "Why?," he asked in a soft tone. His lips curved to a small frown. "I don't know. Have you been sleeping well?" 

"Not really. I was busy. That's not important," he said. "You know what's more important than that?," he added. You were laying with your eyes shut, all ready to doze off. He watched your mouth open to answer his question. "Your career."

He was silent. He didn't like listening to that. It hurt him to hear those words but that's how things had been. Guilt overtook him. He felt guilty about letting you feel like you weren't the important thing he was talking about. He felt guilty about not making enough time. Perhaps, he had not been reminding you about his love for you enough. He had to. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he promised himself to spend the next day, that he had as an off, with you. He would prioritize you and remind you that you still meant a lot to him. 

Choi Soobin. 

He was away quite often he knew. His work kept him busy. He still tried to always be a reliable person to you. He was someone you could trust and always ask for help. He thought he was doing a good job until he came to know of the secret you were hiding. More like, a sprained ankle. 

It was a bright day at work and everything seemed to be going well. As time consuming as it was, his work didn't always seem a burden. He enjoyed it. And then he got to know in a conversation with his mother, during his break time. She mentioned running into you. Unfortunately for you, she didn't forget to mention the cast you were wearing on your leg. "Cast?" he had asked his mom. You had sprained your ankle. To prevent any more damage to your ligament you had to wear it. However, did you have to stress Soobin? "You didn't know?" He was confused. You hadn't mentioned it to him. He was your boyfriend after all. So, he called you immediately. 

"Hello?" 

"Love, are you wearing a cast?" 

"Um? Yeah." The hesitation in your voice was painfully clear. You had very clearly been hiding it from him. He didn't like that. 

"What do you mean by yeah? What happened? How did you get hurt?" 

"Bin. It's not that bad. I fell down that's all. It'll be off in a few days. It's just a bad sprain. Don't worry about it." 

"Don't worry about it? Why wouldn't you tell me that? Why did I hear it from someone else? Tell me." He was angry. This was a rare occurrence. He wasn't the kind to get so irritated and talk like that. In this situation, you knew you were to be blamed. However, you did have your own reasons. 

"You're busy and I didn't want to add to your stress." 

"I am never too busy for you."

"You are. Let's admit it, okay? I am not saying you have to pick between me or your career. I know it's how it is but it's difficult for me too. So, don't yell." 

You were right, he knew. It's not like he could leave the building and head to meet you after getting to know about the injury. You were the one who got injured after all. It took him a few seconds to realize that he might have overreacted. 

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just got a little worried. I want to take care of you, you know?" 

"It's fine." "Really?" "Yeah. I said, it's fine," you said to him softly. You couldn't stay mad at him. Especially after listening to those sweet words. You wished he was around you more often. You really missed him. 

"You sound a little sad," he said softly. 

"I miss you a lot," you confessed. The shift in your tone made his heart sink. He couldn't bear listening to you be that sad. "I miss you too. I think there are chances that we have a late schedule tomorrow. I'll come over to your house then, okay?" 

"Yes please." Just the thought of getting to meet him again made you so happy. He smiled on hearing the excitement in your tone. "I have to go now. Break is over. Take care, okay? Love you," he said to you. " "Okay." "And?" "I love you too." 

Later that night, you opened the door to your boyfriend who brought with him snacks and ice-cream. 

Choi Beomgyu. 

Beomgyu had been busy with interviews. Along with the other boys, he spent hours sitting in front of the camera, filming. Then, he had to shoot for To Do. Then, he had to learn Japanese. Then, it was time for a songwriting session. 

As he sat in the studio thinking of a concept to write about, he thought of you. Work wasn't as bad. He still wished he was with you. It would be nice if he could spend at least a small amount of time with you. He wanted to. Yet, he didn't really know if he could tell you those words directly. He knew staying away from each other for such a long time could be tough for you too. 

He started writing. The words came to him so easily. The feeling had lingered for a while. It was while writing that he found himself asking why had you not left him yet. He gulped as he stared at those words. Did you deserve to adjust that much? Was he selfish for wanting you to stay? 

Even the others boys could tell there was something on his mind as they packed up to leave, past midnight. As soon as they reached home, he pulled out his phone to dial your number. Lucky for him, you hadn't fallen asleep yet. "Hey sweetie," you said to him. A smile took over his face when he heard you call him that. "Hi love. Why aren't you asleep?" "I was finishing some work. And then got busy going through memes on instagram." He clicked his tongue. "You will remain short if you don't sleep early." 

Seated on his bed, he engaged in the conversation. "I don't think I can grow any taller," you said. He sighed. "Kids nowadays," he commented. "Shut up, you grandpa." He chuckled. A yawn escaped your mouth. He could hear it over the phone. "Isn't it annoying?," he asked you. "What is?" "We don't spend a lot of time together," he said to you. He felt nervous about highlighting the fact to you. 

"It is slightly. It would be more annoying if you were in a field you didn't like. It would be more annoying, if I would act like a fool and give up on you just like that. We're not like couples straight out of a movie but it's fine. We're us. And this is how things are."

As always, he found comfort in your assurance. "You're my soulmate."

Kang Taehyun. 

Taehyun and you both knew that his job could keep him away for sometime. That didn't mean that he wouldn't try to be the best boyfriend to you. He would be a  rather responsible one. Even if he wasn't in town, he would remember to text you whenever he was free. He could always tell how your day was going. 

So, on this particular day as you replied to his text with one word replies, he could tell you weren't in the best mood. Even when he was in another city, he could tell you were trying to act like you were okay, he could tell. "I'll be back," he said to Kai who was laying on the bed next to his. He headed out of the room to the pool side. It was after a few days that they had free time. He planned on calling you anyway. 

"Hey," he said to you over the phone. "Hi," you said in a tone not so light. To him it sounded like you were pretending to be cheerful when you were tired. "Are you okay?," he asked. "No. I am Y/N." He clicked his tongue on listening to the dad joke. "You're an idiot. That's what you are," he said. "Hey! Do you wanna fight or something?," you asked playfully. "Sure. Don't challenge me babe." 

A small laugh, he heard. "Seriously, are you fine?" "I wouldn't say I am not fine," you said to him. You were sitting in a chair, before a table. On the table was a laptop, books, papers, so much work for you to get done. "I am a little stressed. I have so much work to get done with," you let him know. He sighed. He knew you used to stay as busy as him. If anything, you were as likely to over work as much as he was. It was something he didn't really like. He knew what it felt like though. 

"Do you leave the house? Have you been going for walks?," he asked you. The cold night breeze surrounded him as he looked at the beautiful view of the blue pool under the night sky. "You're not here. I don't like going for walks unless it's with you." "I know I am a very fun person. I still think you should exercise a little at least," he said. "I don't feel like leaving the house. Maybe, I'll exercise at home. It's just I have so much work to get done with. I don't feel like getting physically tired, you know?" 

"Baby, take breaks." It was a command more than a suggestion. "I don't--" "You have to. You'll get burnt out otherwise." "I don't have anything to do." "Don't worry about that," he assured you. "It's late now. Keep your phone aside and sleep, okay?" "I-" "Okay?" "Okay." "Good. Sweet dreams love." "You too. Goodnight Tae." 

The next day, in the evening, you got delivered a package. It was from Tae. That's what the label on top said. The package was filled with a few coloring books and water coloring pens. It left you surprised by how considerate he was. It was the perfect way to fill your break time. It was heartwarming how caring he was. Even when he was away, he managed to take care of you. 

Huening Kai. 

Kai felt bad. He really did. He didn't mean to forget your birthday. He just happened to have been so busy keeping track of tasks that he forgot to keep track of the date. You spent the day feeling sad. There was some hope, you tried to have. Even a text was enough to make you less sad. He didn't even text you. 

The next day when he realized that he had forgotten about your birthday, he rushed to your house as soon as he left work. With him he carried a bag of chocolate. You sighed as you opened the door for him. You hadn't been replying to his texts, for him to realize that he had done something wrong. Honestly, it wasn't the best feeling. So, you didn't put efforts into pretending like you weren't disappointed. 

"I am so sorry," he said as he watched your expression. "It was a mistake. I totally forgot about it." He didn't like the way you silently watched him. You didn't look like you were going to accept his apology this quickly. "That's the least you can do. You're away all the time, Kai. We barely meet and now you're forgetting about important days," you went on. "I won't forget about you, if that's where you're leading," he said softly. That's where you were leading. You just shut your lips because you didn't know what to say to that. 

"Please let me in?," he said to you. He had been standing outside all this time. You opened the door. You did feel silly getting mad over the fact that he forgot your birthday. You knew, it wasn't on purpose. It didn't feel nice to be forgotten though. "Just to be clear, do you forgive me?," he asked. You didn't say anything. "Come on. We're meeting after so many days, don't give me the silent treatment," he whined. He then held up a paper bag. "Look, I made these while filming today. You'll like it," he said as he held it up. You were a little curious. Also, you had been missing him. So, you gave in. 

"What is it?," you asked. He held back his laugh as he handed it to you. You looked in the bag to see cutely wrapped chocolates. You kept the box of chocolate pavé on the table while Kai took off his shoes. "Can you stay over?," you asked him. He wished he could. As he watched you look at him hoping he could, he felt even worse about it. "Sorry. I have an early schedule tomorrow but next week-" "You'll try to find time. You always say that. Take your chocolates and leave." 

"Don't say that," he said as he headed to the washroom to wash his hands. "I have two days off next week," he said. Well, that sounded good to you. "Really?" "Yes," he sang as he walked out with his wet hands. "Don't be sad. Here have some pavé," he said as he held up the box with his hands that were still wet. He pulled open the cover. Somehow the box slipped. It fell on the floor. The chocolate pavé too was on the floor. "Huening Kai, I swear to God." 

‹•.•›

To head to my masterlist click here.

[katsukikitten]

Part 3 please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Part 1 ××× Part 2

Bakugou finds himself wandering around the seemingly endless house in a combination of avoiding you and giving you space. 

And truth be told he's a bit curious as to how far the house really goes. He hadn't had the opportunity to get far the first time around. Mei spying him heading towards the kitchen and steering him in the direction of the oversized dining room. 

He sighs, the halls darkened and painted in red hues from the dying sun that peeked in through the woven tatami blinds that separated the inside from the engawa. He passes by what must be one of the many bathrooms as he sees steam seeping from the door and hears children laughing on the other side, he walks further past other large rooms with the tatami sliding doors half open inviting guests into the endless darkness. 

Soon the halls are painted in the soft light of the moon. He has lost time in his deep thoughts. 

Thoughts forever leading back to you and his screaming arm. 

The funny thing is that before this trip, before you sank to your knees in front of him in the apartment, he never really had given you a second thought. The only time he did was when you made that damned ramen you bribed him with. 

So why were you all he could think about now?

Suddenly he finds himself in a familiar hallway that leads to a set of open doors, light flooding the wooden floors. He realizes too late that he is standing in the light and potentially disturbing the inhabitants or worse yet spotted by them. He takes a step back but it's too late. 

"Bakugou dear please come in." Sobo calls as Bakugou damns himself for being so careless. Company was the last thing he wanted.

But he does as he's told. Stepping into the study with new eyes, now having the time to look it over, where as before you rushed him in, forcing him to bow to not one but two strangers today. This time around he notices bookshelves that line the room closest to the door while the rest of the walls are covered with photos and awards. Famous politicians, CEOs, and heroes in each photo, each one having a younger version of her in it. 

It's uncanny how much you look like her, especially in the one standing next to a young All Might, not a hair out of place as she wears the crane kimono in the photo. Finally his eyes fall to the elderly woman who summoned him from his aimless walk.  She is sitting stick straight, eyes fixated on a set of white flower buds that gently sway in the breeze.

"Look," Her voice velvet as she points with a skinny finger, "They are blooming." 

Bakugou stays standing and grunts in response, apple red eyes fixated on the petals that seem to reflect the silvery glow of the moon as they slowly open. 

"Do you know what makes a moon flower so wonderful and awe inspiring?" Sobo asks but Bakugou does not answer. Instead he bites his lip and watches as her elderly features bloom into excitement before she speaks, "It's ability to thrive in the dark. To have so little light to work with and yet to embrace it wholeheartedly. I know there is at least one person in your life that reminds you of this flower." 

The hot head isn't sure where she is going with this...lecture of sorts. She gives him a knowing smile as the words play over in his head a few times. Sure there were a few people he could think of. 

She pulls him from his deep thoughts with a question as she places a board between herself and the empty cushion. 

"Have you ever played the game Go before Bakugou?" He has but he isn't so inclined to play. 

Playing house was enough for him this weekend. 

"No." His voice is even and his body still full of tension.  Of fight and a bit of pain from the altercation from before. 

"Come, I'll teach you." She smiles as she gestures to the seat before him. He hesitates for just a second before he thinks he hears you nagging in the back of his head. 

Reluctantly he sits on the pillow with agitated and poor posture. 

Grandmother goes over the rules slowly and Bakugou feigns interest as he is already familiar, this game was about strategy and cornering your opponent. Things he did for a living. 

 Finally she makes the first move, placing a piece onto the board, the diamond of her ring catches Bakugou's eye and he wonders how he missed that before. 

He places his own small tile, deep black bruises catching Sobo's pitying eyes. 

"I'm thankful she didn't break your arm." She places another piece and in such an odd spot. Bakugou ignores it, going head first into the game as he does everything else. 

"Believe it or not. I've seen her do worse." He counters, Sobo keeps her eyes on the board. Taking her time as she goes while Bakugou waits patiently. The pieces go back and forth as the conversation goes on. 

"It is hard to believe. My granddaughter is normally level headed. Not much gets under her skin." She gauges his reaction, noticing his facial expression changing ever so slightly, "You did us a favor. She would have never forgiven herself should she have hurt Shoji. Or worse yet kill him.  But that's not who you were protecting was it?" 

"I was acting on instinct. I'm not a pro hero for nothin." Gruff voice carrying pride into the hallway. 

"What you said wasn't." He swallows thickly at her comment, she places another piece. He can't understand her placement, if anything she was losing, backing herself into a corner of sorts.

Kinda like this conversation, still she acts as if she is in control. 

"You mentioned the house. You mentioned me. Not too many people know that her dear old Sobo is her true soft spot." 

A suck of his teeth trying to end the little bonding talk without just up and up leaving.

He was supposed to be your fiance for god's sake so he had to tolerate this just a little bit longer. 

Still it didn't help that Sobo was poking around in uncharted territory for him. It's true, he did act on instinct but his words had been carefully thought over now that he looks back on it. 

Silence blankets the room as the night wanes on, Bakugou seeming to dominate the board. 

"Are you sure you haven't played before?" Sobo had a teasing tone to which Bakugou shrugs his shoulders, leaning back on his hands for support. 

"Beginner's luck." He shrugs, devilish smile threatening to blossom on his lips. 

"That's twice you've lied to me now." She holds her tile, waiting to make a move as she reads Bakugou. Nothing gives him away, except for that sweet sugary smell permeating the air as it's carried on the light breeze. 

"You lied about playing before. And you lied about being engaged. You two aren't even dating are you?" 

Blush plumes up his neck and cheeks still he remains silent, vermillion eyes fixated on the board. 

"It's not obvious if that's what you're thinking. The two of you almost had me fooled. But I didn't see a ring.  I know she has lied about boyfriends before for my sake. And I know my granddaughter can be a handful at times but I see the way she looks at you." She pauses for a moment, wishing for Bakugou to meet her eyes, she continues when he doesn't, "and how you look at her. You already fit right in, mago." 

He looks up at her then, holding those fierce earthy eyes, she offers a soft smile. 

"You may have lied to me a few times already but I know you were telling the truth when you said you'd die for her." She finally counters Bakugou's move, ending the game in his utter surprising defeat, the light dances on the diamond of her ring catching the attention of scarlet eyes once more. He bites his lip, returning his deadly gaze to the board. He hadn't even fathomed she'd make that move, she smiles a bit mischievously motioning for Bakugou's hand. She takes his calloused hand into her wrinkled, capable hands smoothing out his warm palm and fingers until his hand is fully open. Something cool is pressed against his skin before she slides his fingers over the object, holding her hands over his. 

"Think on it." She says before she let's go, "Thank you for humoring this old woman." 

She smiles and Bakugou takes that as a dismissal. He stands, head a little hazed as he steps into the hall. 

Finally he opens his hand to reveal a ring, the very same ring that was on her finger moments ago. 

His heart pounds in his chest, leaping up into his throat before he closes his palm again.  The diamond bites into the flesh of his palm. Suddenly he is no longer curious just how far the house goes. 

He finds the shared bedroom and is thankful when he does not see you in it. He turns on the string lights and paces before he shoves the ring into his book bag. 

"What the hell is that old hag thinking?!" He snarls, fisting his ash locks. He looks around, noticing all of the small things in your room that clearly hadn't changed since you had left for UA and college. The posters of old animes, of aged jpop idols and photos of long forgotten friends and never to be forgotten family.  He sighs, almost ripping the tatami door as he slides it open.  He notices an odd and obviously old fissure snaking through the Earth, all the way to the base of the mountain. 

What made you angry enough to do this? 

The question runs through his mind over and over until he fishes out his phone video calling the only person he can semi trust his odd feelings with. They pick up with a gleaming sharp toothed smile. 

"Oi shitty hair." 

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

Mei had better have taken Bakugou and his things back to what was supposed to be his bedroom for the week. The last person you wanted to see was Bakugou.

Every second that passed between now and the incident in the dining room was washed over in tones of red and black. Furthering yourself self aimed anger as you damn yourself for not keeping control. 

What would have happened if he wasn't there to stop you? 

Would the house have caved? Would you have accidentally killed Shoji? Worse yet what would have happened to Sobo and the children. 

Still Shoji deserved the scare from both you and grandmother. 

His selfish actions costs countless unsuspecting victims their quirks. 

Your friends and Uncle Sozen among them. Mei had only just told you in the bath when you brushed off hurting Bakugou with a simple. 

"Uncle can fix him right up."

Her silence was answer enough. It would explain why he had been checking on Sobo in person more often. No longer able to activate his quirk to both heal and track people's vitals. 

Hesitating before your door you think if you should just rise early and take Bakugou back to the station first thing. 

You think of telling Sobo the truth. 

A sigh leaves your lips as you settle on an in person apology for now, which you would do as soon as you shed this tattered towel from your form and dressed. 

Little did you know the opportunity to apologize would arise so soon. 

Sliding open the familiar tatami reveals Bakugou Katsuki lying on his side on the futon, idling scrolling through his phone. 

"K..Katsuki!" You stutter, pulling the already straining towel around your thick frame. His eyes are pulled to you, the source of his annoyance before you shout out. 

"Keep your eyes closed, pervert!" 

"Aren't you the pervert for walking in here with nothing but a towel?" His tone is deadly velvet as he holds eye contact. Scarlet beginnings to drag southward. 

"Hey! Stop! Please!" He notices the blush in your cheeks that starts to bloom at the tip of your ears. He smirks to himself, shaking his head. When he closes his eyes he thinks of you on your knees again, his jaw clenches in response. 

Quickly you dig through your bag for something, anything. But you keep coming back to your lace bralette and cotton black underwear. 

You thought you would be in your old room alone. Not having some fucked up sleep over with the one roommate you were never really close with! 

But you always put yourself in fucked up situations don't you? 

You dress quickly, keeping your eyes on him as you do. He keeps his own scarlet eyes locked away behind long eyelashes. Long enough they kiss the apples of his cheeks. Body slowly going slack as he waits for you cue. Head still propped up on a strong arm while his other hand held his unlocked phone that illuminated with his social media. His lips are relaxed instead of set in their usual harsh snarl. 

He looks...different like this. 

Softer. 

Your breath hitches as your heart summersolts.

"Oi. What's wrong? How long does it take a shitty woman to get dressed." He snarls again, almost breaking the spell. When he opens his eyes he scoffs. 

"It took you that long to get dressed in next to nothing?" He bites, locking his phone and pulling his shirt over his head with one hand. 

"It's not like I was expecting company!" You hiss, his broad hands go to the waist band of his pants, "What are you doing?" 

"Getting ready for bed dumbass." Another scoff as he lifts his hips just slightly to slide his pants off of his toned legs. Your cheeks heat as you try to ignore the indentation in his boxer briefs. 

"Um can't you w..wear something else?" 

"I normally sleep naked sweetheart. So beggars can't be fucking choosers." He finally slides under the blanket of the futon and returns to his phone. Your eyes narrow, would this have gone differently had you brought Kirishima or hell even Izuku for fucks sake? 

"Oi, are you gonna come to bed or stand there all night? I'm not gonna fucking bite." He snarls, before his lips turn upward in an assholish teasing way, "Much." 

You hit him with your pillow. Causing him to almost drop his phone on his face. He growls as you reach to turn on the heavy duty fan to keep the room at a somewhat comfortable temperature. 

Exhaustion runs at you full force as you're pulled under with the aided sounds of the summer crickets and loud fan. 

But Bakugou finds himself lying awake, too hot in the shared bed as you block all of that sweet cool air. The only thing he gets is a lukewarm breeze that makes him question his life choices. 

Questions and answers circle around in his head while the moon gets lower and lower in the sky. He turns over to face you and noticing for the first time tonight that you're shivering. 

He cannot fathom how. It had to be 79 plus with the sun down, he lets his hands hover over you, feeling the breeze from the fan. The air is cold enough it reminds him of standing close to Todoroki. He sighs, activating a bit of his quirk before placing his warmed palm on your chilled skin. You sigh into the touch, scooting closer to the source of warmth until your ass is pressed against him. 

He groans from agitation and other things before he gently climbs over you so he could bare the brunt of the icy wind to his back while you warmed up. Snuggling into his chest with a soft smile. 

His heart explodes, skin becoming hot and cold all at once from just that small smile. 

He sighs, pushing some hair away from your face wondering how someone could be so perfect in the moonlight. 

[qwanderer]

Loki in the Hall of Mirrors

This story is complicated. Not, like, as a plot, not particularly, but philosophically and thematically. It's got that great play of hero against villain that I love about the Loki story in general and that makes it all so divisive and messy. And I love it even more than I did on first watch.

The first time I watched the desert landing scene, I was like, "Wait? What happened to Allspeak?" because the people who live there don't seem to understand him. But on the second watch, I realized it could be a lack of context, rather than a break in translation. These people probably have an even chance of knowing nothing about Norse myth. Like, what if an alien came up to you and said "I am Boogle of Bofgar, I carry a burden"? You would still have questions like "What the hell is a boogle and why are you carrying your shit here?" So the basic dynamic of Allspeak is probably still functioning, and Loki probably understood their questions, but he was still trying to figure out how to answer when he got distracted by the TVA people.

It could even be an innate psychic ability rather than a magical one, as he seems to understand everyone in the TVA, including the man who can't be fluent in all languages like the field agents because he has never heard of a fish and the seemingly nonverbal robot. (Which of course makes me want Loki talking with Dum-E and the other shop bots! But I digress.)

Okay. I want to start talking about the next-level manipulation shit the TVA are pulling on Loki here. Time, as they say, moves differently in the TVA, and one might even assume that they can avoid having to deal with more variants at once than they can handle. And yet we see them dealing with exactly two other troublemakers during Loki's onboarding.

The first, I'm going to call little echo man.

Little echo man is incredibly annoying to Loki, because he does and says everything Loki might find himself inclined to do and say if he wanted to be difficult. Little echo man does these things in little annoying undignified ways, making them look silly and petulant. Little echo man protests and questions and pushes back, in his business suit and his long dark hair and pale skin, and clearly thinks everyone should treat him as important even though every indication is that he is an annoyance and an afterthought.

Perhaps he's a plant, and perhaps he's just a variant of an annoying but predictable regular they see who they lined up at the same time on purpose. But he is on purpose. Everything he does screams directly at Loki, "Don't do this."

We'll get to the second convenient intersection later.

The most obvious layer of manipulation is simply the beraucracy. They put him up against a series of obstacles which he needs to deal with to get anywhere else, and nothing he does can get him past those obstacles except compliance. All of these obstacles have personality, but they are not personable. They treat Loki like a bag of trash they have been tasked with taking to the curb. Annoying, distasteful, but ultimately routine. His silver tongue isn't going to get him anywhere because these people simply don't care.

I think a lot of these he just goes along with to see where it gets him, since at this point he still believes he has his magic in reserve. But the fact that he steps through the robot fryer even though he thinks he might be a robot without knowing (as others have pointed out, he spent thousands of years as a frost giant without knowing it, and he's recently spent time in the control of the being who shaped Nebula) is a testament to how deep they've already got their hooks in him.

They treat the robot fryer like it's routine, but come the next obstacle, they kill little echo man like it's routine, too. Because he didn't comply.

Loki is slowly being ironed flat to thread into their compliance mill.

And then - I love this, because it reminds me of one of my favorites among the multiplicity of Lokis, GoS!Loki - they put this line in as punctuation between the impersonal, compliance, don't phase of their manipulation and everything that comes after it.

When he's set before the judge, someone actually paying some attention to him, this is his chance to use his silver tongue on someone who will listen. But, although the judge listens, she treats him the same as all the other obstacles have - like listening is a distasteful chore she would like to be done with.

So it seems like the perfect moment for a dramatic escape. Except his magic is gone.

"It's not your story," the judge says. "It never was."

That hammers in all the worst things Loki has ever believed about himself - that he stands in the shadows of others, that he will never have the central place he was raised to desire, that he is, and always will be, a villain to be vanquished rather than a person with choices and agency.

Enter Mobius.

Mobius is a big echo.

He draws all the attention in a room. He is everything that Loki wishes to be - he is powerful, informed, prepared, in control. Capable of charming the judge. And most importantly, he is actively interested in Loki.

At this point in Loki's journey - both in the show and in his life - that has to be irresistible.

So Mobius is in a perfect position to wrap Loki right around his pinky finger.

He listens to Loki without shutting him down, the way all the obstacles have. When Loki tells Mobius he's going to burn down the TVA, Mobius suggests a couple of places he might want to start. One concrete, small, mischievous. One an indication that he's open to Loki doing larger, more significant things here in the future.

He shows Loki his own past and future - but carefully edited, to paint a particular picture.

So many echoes, so many reflections - Loki is in a house of mirrors. Lost, disoriented. Distorted one way, then the other. Magnified and examined.

Loki snarks, and Mobius comments, "Makes you sound smart." Affirms Loki for that little mischievous bit of personality.

Mobius shows Loki some of the most terrible things he's done, and questions them. Pushes Loki away from them. Then changes direction before he can get too heavy-handed, to basically fangirl over the DB Cooper adventure. That's mischief. That's good. I like that.

Punishes him for a small infraction, just to remind him who is in control and that even looking threatening could be seen as a problem.

I think it was at about this point that I got hard reminded of the dynamics of the show White Collar. It's a buddy cop show on a basic level and sometimes the relationship can be very sweet, but sometimes Peter spends one too many times reminding Neal that he can send him back to prison any time he wants and the power dynamic shows its messed up edges.

Mobius is part of the machine, and the machine is doing terrible things to Loki, but I have at least a sliver of hope that the relationship could gain more balance - more genuine balance, not based on the faux freedom that Loki has gained by the end of the episode. There's something to be said for making changes to a system from within that system, but for that to be meaningful change, Mobius would have to change as a person.

Anyway, this current nastily powerful Mobius pushes Loki as hard as he can, and then is conveniently interrupted by the actions of another variant, leaving Loki alone with his remote.

It could easily have been on purpose. The only thing Loki learns by escaping that room is that the TVA is more powerful than any force in the universe, in his experience.

Let's talk about the other Loki variant for a minute. It took me until the second viewing to realize the symbolism of leaving a small child the only survivor in a place of worship, then giving her something to turn her blue.

Odin said he found Loki in a temple, in the aftermath of a battle.

It's actually frighteningly easy to imagine how a distraught Loki could get to a place where he feels the need to genuinely burn down the TVA, and kill every agent in it. Because the TVA put certain clips in his little future show, focusing on the death of his mother, the way his own actions affected it, and the futility and brutality of his own death at the hands of Thanos.

They don't show him the destruction of Asgard, his own role in helping save the evacuees, and the way Thanos decimated the population of that transport before it could even reach Earth. They don't show him the devastation of his home or his capacity to do good.

A Loki who knows that the power of the TVA exists and that he has the capacity to be Asgard's heroic savior would do anything to get that power and save his people.

But we haven't met that Loki yet. I'm sure we will, and it's going to be exhilarating.

This Loki is being taught the importance of control over little things, and so when he gets his collar off and onto that guard, he toys with her, just to see that he can. They have been toying with him and it's oh so satisfying to turn the tables. But it's still compliance in its own way, the petty little mischief that Mobius has been steering him towards.

Loki has been given just enough freedom, just enough choices, that it seems like his own choice to watch the rest of the slide show and come to the obvious conclusion - there's no "out" to go to. His life has gone on without him, and ended. And there's really no point in his trying to fix it. No putting things back the way they were.

So he admits to Mobius - the person who has listened hardest, probably, besides his mother - he admits that he is small and scared and lashing out. That he doesn't know what to do.

Of course, this is when Mobius introduces the task the TVA has for Loki - to take down his other self.

Oh, I can't wait for the next episode! I want to know where this is going.

(I've popped in some panels from Loki: Agent of Asgard because it's my favorite and the show is giving me feelings about it.)