#so sorry if the wardrobe is inaccurate

[heart4reigns]

hiiii! I was wondering if you could write a Cody imagine?! The reader is Brock’s sister, and like a big name in the women’s division. When Cody returns they spark up a relationship, and no one knows which leads to her sitting and watching her brother just tear him apart. Then one night it goes too far, and she tries to save him and admits that they’re in love. Then Brock like makes her pick between the two of them!

IN ARMS, cody rhodes.

warnings: curse words, kissing, inaccurate events,

tags: awkward adults falling in love, brock being kinda evil (sorry cowboy), sexual implications, backstreet relationships

TO say the least, your older brother was definitely overprotective towards you. although you were the women's champion, in his eyes, you were still his little baby sister. at times, it got annoying because some people were intimidated by you. but you were the polar opposite of your brother. you liked people, you liked making new friends, and most important of them all, you were approachable. some people who didn't know never thought that you were the beast incarnate's little sister.

you were backstage, after your big fight with becky. the two of you were chilling backstage, putting ice on your bruises. "that's gonna hurt like a bitch." you pointed at her arm. "ya, you kicked the shit out of my arm!" she joked. "sorry, that's my job!" you laughed. you heard the door being opened by none other than seth rollins, who was going on stage for the next fight. "so, who are you fighting?" you asked the question.

"not your brother, i hope." he replied, stealing your water. "get your own damn water." you rolled your eyes. "nah, it can't be him. he's fighting your ex-boyfriend." you continued, earning a chuckle from the couple. "well ha ha, anyways we're going out. see you (y/n)!" becky and seth stood up, you hugged the two. "good luck!" you gave him a pat on the back.

as you walked the hallways on your own, you felt your legs tarting to ache more. "hey, (y/n)!" you saw roman greeting you. "where you going?" he asked. "i don't know, becks left me... so, just looking for company." "let's watch seth's match together." and there you were, watching the match with roman. your brother warned you about him being flirty, but you brushed it off. he was one of your closest friends backstage. "i swear, seth's entrances are always very extra." you commented, watching the monitor. "sometimes i'm jealous of his wardrobe." roman added.

no one knew who he was fighting. even you, one of the company's favorites, didn't know. "no fucking way." roman muttered. you zoned out for a second, turning back your attention to the monitor. "NO FUCKING WAY!" you repeated roman's sentences. "is that cody fucking rhodes?" you furrowed your brows. "he's back?" you nudged roman, who was still in awe. "it could be anyone, but i didn't expect it to be him." the black-haired man replied.

there he was, cody rhodes, the american nightmare. you have never worked with him, but he was so damn good looking with his bleached blond hair and his gear. needless to say, you looked forward to his return. the crowd went wild and you could feel that everyone was happy that he was back. you watched his early works in the wwe, his gimmicks were always enjoyable. you were in awe, seeing him being in the same company of you. "that dude is hot." you commented. "don't let your brother know, last time you said i was hot, got my ass beat really hard." roman said. "well, i'm sorry for having him as my brother!"

the night ended with a blast. everyone was satisfied with the match. cody's comeback left everyone speechless. it made you very excited to work with him. you went back to the locker room to gather all your things before going to the bus. but this time, the locker room wasn't empty. "oh, sorry! am i blocking your locker?" you jumped a bit, hearing an unfamiliar voice.

"no worries!" he scooted a bit, allowing you to collect your things. "i'm cody, by the way." you giggled at his sentence. "hi cody, i'm (y/n). i know who you are!" you shook his hand. "and i know who you are too, (y/n)." cody chuckled. "that was one hell of a comeback you did." you complimented him. "really? i was afraid that people were expecting someone else..." cody unwrapped his gloves, putting them inside his bag. "no one knew, so we're all quite surprised!" you assured him that he did great.

"are you riding back with us?" you asked him. "yeah i am, now that i'm out in the world." the two of you were walking back to the bus. "great! you should sit with me!" your positive and friendly attitude didn't match your brother's, he thought. "that would be great." he smiled. you kept on talking to him, finding yourself comfortable in the conversation.

the night went on and you couldn't stop talking to him, even after you got back to the hotel–the conversation continued. you were inside his hotel room, cracking jokes, when you heard your phone ringing. "listen, i'd love to continue this conversation, but i really need to go to my brother, he's been looking for me." you flashed him your lockscreen, 6 missed calls from brock. "oh, sorry! we got carried away. it was nice talking to you, (y/n)." you smiled at him. "is it okay if we exchange numbers? i haven't been talking to anyone. you're practically my first friend here." he asked, slightly hesitating.

"sure!" he walked you out of his room, with a big smile plastered on his face. "get some rest, cody. you did well tonight, welcome back." maybe it was your kind nature that made his heart beat faster than before. a pretty face, a kind soul, and an amazing wrestler–you were his dream girl. "thank you, (y/n). good night!" you gave him hug. "good night, rhodes!"

that wasn't your last encounter with the american nightmare. he was settled back in the game, meaning that you saw him every once in a while during work. he didn't have many colleagues, they were still getting used by his presence backstage, but he had you. you were well-known for your over-the-top kindness for new and old talents. so, it became a regular thing for you to accompany him whenever he was around. so people didn't find it weird when you had lunch with him or continuously play-fight with him backstage.

you grew closer than ever, closer than you and any other colleagues that you had. you had something to look forward to at work and it was the dashing man who was laying his head on your lap, playing with his phone before he had to go on stage. this backstage romance that you had stirring up was unknown to anyone except for the two of you.

little did you know, he was taking pictures of you dozing off. "you better delete that." you groaned. "but you look cute!" he pouted, showing you the picture. "rhodes, i swear i am going to kill you." "you sound a lot like your brother." ah yes, your brother. there had been several times that he almost caught you sneaking off to the american nightmare's locker room, but you simply said that you were going to visit seth.

it was well-known that your brother was the most intimidating wrestler wwe had nowadays. he had this menacing-like presence that caused everyone to stray away from his path, including cody. you heard a knock on the door, it was the backstage crew. "cody, you're up in 10!" "right!" every time you were in the room, you always locked the door, not wanting anyone to burst in and caught the two of you cuddling on the couch together. "you need to get ready, cody." he nodded, getting up from his position.

cody took off his sweatshirt, exposing his upper body as he was already wearing his work pants. you whistled at your sight, earning a groan from the blond wrestler. "stop flirting with me or i might just kiss you." he put on his shirt and tie. "all bark and no bite." the tension between the two of you lingered in the air. "really?" he sat down next to you, fixing his tie. "really-" your sentence was cut-off by him. there he was, kissing you, moving his body closer to yours. "all bark and all bite, baby." he chuckled.

that was the very first kissed that you shared with him and not your last. "did you just kissed me?" you were baffled. "and i'm gonna do it again." he said, a chuckle in between his words. you were obviously ecstatic by the thought of your 'colleague' kissing and holding you. "cody, you're up in 5! let's go!" yet again, you were interrupted by the stage crew. "you gotta go, cody."

"let's eat after this, i'm cooking." you smiled at him. "okay." you also stood up, helping him fix his suit. "you look good." you complimented, kissing his cheeks. "and you look too good to be single, (y/n)." he cracked a joke, opening the door. to your surprise, you saw a certain wrestler passing by. it was none other than your brother.

there was a quiet and painful silence between the three of you. "oh, hey brock!" you greeted him, slowly feeling your heart thumping faster. "i've been looking for you everywhere, where have you been- cody?" he looked at the man. "hey brock." cody greeted him as well. "what were you doing with her?" your older brother furrowed his eyebrows. "we were just talking. listen, i need to go on stage. i'll see you all later." cody practically ran to the entrance door, avoiding your brother.

"why were you with him? i keep on seeing you with him." you saw his expression and it was very intimidating to you. "i was just talking to him, jesus. don't worry about me." you shook your head. "i'm not worried, i just don't want anyone messing with you, if he messes with you, i'll break his legs." your gaze softened at your brother. "don't worry, bro. come one, let's get dressed. cody and i have nothing going on." and how wrong you were. there was definitely something going on between you and cody.

work was over and you were ready to get the hell out of this building. being in a tag-team with your brother meant that you were basically on his radar. thankfully, the company had something cooking up for him, meaning that was the last performance you gave as a duo. "where you going after this?" he asked, taking off his boots. "home." you lied. "ya want me to drive?" you shook your head. "no, i brought my car." you lied once again. "alright, drive safe."

you made sure no one was around you when you got inside cody's car. "live-streamed your good-byes being your brother's tag-team partner, got quite emotional." cody joked, causing you to ruffle his hair. "just say you're thankful that you're not gonna see him with me again." cody drove you to his house, knowing well you were tired enough from your fight. he didn't fight today, only delivering a promo for his upcoming rivalry with whoever it is that the company was setting him up with.

see, cody couldn't cook before he met you. you were a great cook and you helped him learn several things about being a masterchef in the kitchen. "this is actually good, finally." you spoke to him with a proud tone. "you? actually liking my food? is this the day that i can die peacefully?" you continued to eat your food. "anyways, did your brother say something about us?" us. his last word caused butterflies in your stomach.

"he didn't say anything, just threatened to break your legs if you mess with me." he choked on his chicken. "but don't worry, he's not a threat for us." some people might call you crazy for not being afraid of the brock lesnar, but you were his sister, you knew him. "so, how are you adapting?" you asked him. "it's good to be back honestly, i couldn't ask for more." he was genuinely glowing from happiness. "and i have you, so, i'm glad i met you." the two of you made eye-contact, slowly feeling your cheeks reddening from the conversation.

"are you always this flirty, rhodes?" "only to you, lesnar. wait, i take it back, (y/n). it sounds like i'm flirting with your brother every time i say your last name."

you were going to stay the night, like you usually do. you offered to wash the dishes, which cody was thankful for because he said he was going to fix something in his garage. you finished washing the dishes, sitting down on his couch, waiting for him to finish his business. "(y/n)! can you help me out here?" you heard his voice coming from the garage. "okay, wait!"

the garage was empty, cody wasn't there. "cody?" you called his name. "right here." you turned around and saw him holding a bouquet of lilies, your favorite flowers. your eyes widened in surprise. "uh?" you tilted your head in confusion. "i think it's obvious that i like you, (y/n). let me put it shortly, i like you and," he paused for a second, regaining confidence. "will you be my girlfriend?" the question was out and you were smiling like crazy. "of course i will."

your relationship made your bond stronger. you were practically living together already. your alarm woke you up from your deep slumber. "shit." you muttered under your breath. you quickly got dressed, looking for your shirt. "just wear one of mine, love." your new boyfriend watched as you tried to look for you shirt. "where are you going anyways?" he was still half-asleep. "we have a meeting with creatives today! i totally forgot." you quickly stole a small kiss on his lips. "see you later, baby."

"sorry, i'm not late am i?" the board meeting started. your brother was also there, clearly confused at your current disheveled state. "rhodes is running late, he said he had some issues with his car." you nodded, looking at the papers. the entire room was discussing about where your storyline might lead to.

cody came around, greeting people from the board. "now rhodes is here, let me lay down the plan." your boss said. "we're pinning rhodes and lesnar, not (y/n) but brock." you made eye-contact with cody, slightly panicking. it didn't take any random stranger to notice that brock took a dislike on cody after several encounters they had. it also didn't take any random person to notice that cody was definitely interested in you. "bring it on, blondie." brock grimacly chuckled, earning goosebumps on cody's skin.

to this day, people didn't know that you were already dating. cody was actually pretty nervous being pinned up to a storyline where he was facing your brother. it was brutal, you thought. your brother, on the other hand, was enjoying the time of his life. although it was all an act, you could tell that it was personal. you were watching the monitor, with roman right next to you. "i'd be pissed if i just came back like months ago and now i'm facing brock lesnar." roman joked.

"it feels like it's personal." roman repeated the thought you had in your mind. "huh?" you furrowed your brows, still focusing on your boyfriend being beaten up. "i don't know, i've been in the ring with brock. he always holds his punches, but this? seems like there's something going on between them." he chuckled. "my brother is just like that." you cringed, seeing cody being dropped on his back by your brother.

the camera stopped rolling and the two wrestlers went backstage. your first immediate response was to aid your boyfriend, it was a muscle memory already. "cody, are you alright?" he was limping on his right foot. "babe, i'm alright." you didn't realize your brother was standing behind the two of you. "babe?" he asked. a sheer panic ran through your spine. "uh..." you were speechless.

"is there something going on between you two?"

needless to say, things went downhill after that. you continued to deny about your relationship. but brock knew damn well that his opponent was dating his little sister. the punches he threw, the kicks he did, all felt personal. everyone thought it was all for the show, but cody and you knew that brock wasn't holding back his attacks.

it took you several shows to realize that cody's injuries after his shows were worse than before. "hold your arm out for me." you said. cody lifted his arm, adjusting his position. "okay, now hold on." you put ice on his injuries. "this is going out of hand." he only sighed. "i'm sorry." you apologized. "it's not your fault, love." cody leaned his head on your shoulder. "i guess your brother doesn't like us." he chuckled. "i need to tell him to stop making it personal."

the blond man shook his head. "no, it's okay." "it's not okay, cody. we both know the industry like the back of our hands, this isn't for the show anymore!" you slightly shouted. you were very concerned since they still had a long-running story. "i just can't stand seeing him beat the shit out of you almost every match." you confessed. "you don't need to worry about me, baby." his words calmed you down. "hell, i'll fight the entire roster for you."

"i love you and i'm sorry that my brother is tough to work with." "i love you too, please don't apologize. it's not your fault, we'll go through this together."

you had to come clean to your friends that you were in fact dating cody. "i can't stand this." you muttered under your breath, looking at the monitor. "i know, babes." becky sighed in frustration, pity in her eyes. "he's hurting him, it's not for the show anymore." seth added. "fuck, i can't stand this!" you quickly ran out of the locker room, not thinking straight.

"is- is that lesnar? that is (y/n) lesnar coming out of the backstage!" the commentator saw you sliding inside the ring. before brock could do more damage to your boyfriend, you quickly pushed him. you saw him smirking, knowing well how this would end. "stop it, brock!" you yelled, causing the crowd to go silent. "so, it's true then, (y/n)." brock spoke to the mic. "you really are dating him." the crowd gasped at his sentence. "yeah! i am and i love him!" you stood up, having a stare down while your boyfriend was still leaning on the ropes, his entire arm bruised.

cody looked at you, shaking his head, not want you to fight your brother for him. "(y/n), you either fight me or you help me fight your little boyfriend." brock once again spoke to the mic. you clenched your fist, trying your best to diffuse the situation. "who is she going to pick? her brother or her lover? this is some drama going on." the commentator said. "(y/n), fight brock!" "no, fight cody!" the crowd had mixed emotions towards your presence.

you took off your hoodie and threw it away, hearing the crowd go wild. "come on, bro. if you wanna get to him, you'll have to go through me."

a/n: hii! hope u enjoyed it!!! bc i heart cody so much damn that man is so sexy… requests are still open but i might not be posting very often bc i am currently busy w my exams <3!!

[ahundredtimesover]

A Still Day or A Hurricane (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: single mom lawyer!OC x pastry chef!Jungkook; angst, fluff, smut; age gap

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; single parenthood, motherhood; mention of a sexual harassment case, inaccurate law stuff im sry; jealousy, insecurities; infidelity; eventual smut (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Status: Completed

Series summary: Driven by your perfectionist attitude and need to have everything in order, you planned that by age 30, you’d have made junior partner, bought your own apartment, and have children. You achieved them, of course, and while the last bit required you to take matters into your own hands - no thanks to your ex-boyfriend who dumped you but to your best friend who directed you to a fertility clinic - you’re now a 31-year old who pretty much has her life under control. You’re ready to raise your child on your own, that is, until the 20-something pastry chef flirts his way into your heart, messing up the perfect little life you worked so hard to have for yourself.

A/N: I did say it was slow burn, right?? Please enjoy!

Listen to: Straw (EZ Kim), Restless (Bibi), Let Me (GOT7) || Playlist 🎶

Series Masterlist

##

Standing in front of Jungkook as he leans against his car, you’re reminded, through both your outfits, that this date really is just about you and him. 

You’re used to him in sweatpants and oversized hoodies when you stay in and in jeans and a jacket when you’re both out with Heejin. With his caps and beanies, you always thought he looked so comfortable, so good-looking, so boyfriend, as Byeol constantly points out.

But Jungkook in a silk, patterned polo, slacks, and dress shoes, with his slick hair parted on the side and his lip ring glinting underneath the street light, he looks mesmerizing. Even more with the bouquet of carnations he’s holding on his side.

“Hi, ___. You look so beautiful,” he says, his eyes unblinking, not wanting to miss anything.

He takes you in, dressed in high-waist trousers and a lace top hidden beneath a crop blazer with a bit more makeup than usual. He’s seen you in your work outfits, which you always look amazing in, and there was always a sense of purpose in your looks. This one does, too, and if it’s to make him fall for you harder and faster, you definitely achieved it.

“Ah, well, I realized the other night that my date night wardrobe has been untouched for so long and I couldn’t make up my mind on what to wear, actually,” you chuckle. “But the way you’re looking at me says I chose the right outfit.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My brain’s kinda malfunctioning right now,” he responds. “I mean, you look gorgeous all the time but this, uh. Yeah, this is too much for me. I’m sorry if I end up staring at you tonight. Please call me out if it gets uncomfortable for you.”

“I might,” you chuckle, but in your mind it’s only because you’re probably going to be flustered if he keeps looking at you the way he is. “You cleaned up pretty nicely, too.”

“Thanks. I ended up buying an outfit everyday since Sunday and I had Eun-jung decide on the best one for tonight,” he smiles. “I owe her a box of pastries the next time she visits.”

“Well, you can always wear those other outfits to our next two-person dates. I already know I’m gonna want more after tonight,” you reply, giggling at the way his eyes widen at your bluntness.

He clears his throat to mask how flustered he is and opens the door of the car and leads you in.

The restaurant he’d chosen is a fancy but cozy place overlooking the river and their tasting menu is one of the best in the city, you’ve heard.

Being out with Heejin lets you get to know Jungkook in a different way. During those times, he’d shown to be more attentive than you expected. He’d be playful but caring, would address your needs and Heejin’s, and would always make sure to make her laugh. But tonight, his focus is all on you. And you see that immediately with how he helps you settle in your seat and remove your blazer and ask if everything is okay.

You start to talk about your respective days, and with no squealing child to attend to or who’d interject every time you and Jungkook talked, your conversation flows so easily. You talk more about your families, how your childhood was like, all your holiday trips, and anything else you could think of.

Jungkook is curious and respectful as always, still silly in many ways, but genuine in how he is with you. You’re not used to someone being so focused on you, but it’s not something you call him out for. 

There’s something with the way he looks at you that makes you feel beautiful, as if he’s seeing and acknowledging all that you are, and like much as he’d tried with you from the beginning, he doesn’t put you on a pedestal. You’re human to him - someone who’s her own self but someone to care for, someone to appreciate, someone who makes mistakes, and someone who can grow.

Jungkook takes a spoonful of the seafood bisque when some of it sticks to the corner of his mouth. You immediately wipe it off, and you see him visibly stop when he feels your finger against his skin. 

You know he knows you’re quite guarded with affection, and he never really complained, although you’ve noticed the few times that he’d inched his hand closer to yours or let your finger-brushing moments linger. He’d come closer a lot of times but you’d stay right where you were, unbudging, and it’s only because physical affection, in its most intimate forms, is something you give with all of you. 

You’d shared moments of intimacy with him - that day when you let him feel Heejin kicking in your belly, to the kiss, to warming his ears, and now this. 

Ever since he got back and you’d both gotten closer, you feel like slowly giving parts of yourself to him, knowing he’d take and then return them. He’s patient, as always, and transparent with how you affect him. 

“You had a bit of something on the corner of your mouth,” you state.

He takes another mouthful and deliberately stains his lips again, scrunching his nose because he knows what he’d done, and you can’t help but laugh at his antics. So does he, as you take the napkin this time and gently wipe the stain off his mouth, your own lips parted just to tease. 

There’s a twinkle in his eyes and a glow in his smile that you’re only seeing now. It’s familiar but new, and you won’t be surprised if you mirror it, too.

Drinking his water, you take in his side features. The lighting in your little corner makes his sharp jaw even more striking, so does the scar on his left cheek, something that you ask him about.

“You know that point in your childhood when you’re convinced you’re an animal so you act like one?” He says, munching on the parmesan crisps of the next dish.

“Uh, no? Are you sure you had a normal childhood?” You chuckle.

“Yes. And I thought I was a dog and so I was barking at one that I saw at the park then it jumped at me and scratched my cheek,” he narrates animatedly. “It never went away. I bear the mark of my companion. You seriously never had that phase?”

“Not at all. That’s just weird.”

“No it isn’t! I had a chicken phase, too, and I think that’s why I’m so sympathetic with animals. They love me so much, they fall asleep when I touch them.”

“Are you serious?” You ask incredulously.

“No, I was just joking.”

“What the heck, Jungkook! I almost believed you!” You playfully smack his arm.

“Did it annoy you?” He chuckles.

“Yes!”

“Okay, good,” he winks at you and for your sake, you try to not mind it.

“No but really, how’d you get your scar?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve always had it as a kid and whenever I’d ask my parents, they’d give me a different answer every time.” He laughs. “There’s the dog story. Then one was a fight I had with my brother over a slice of cake. Another was that I laid my cheek on the floor trying to look for monsters under my bed then I got scratched by the floorboard. And then one was from a branch when I was climbing a tree to look for giants.”

“And your parents don’t wanna tell you? Or maybe they don’t know, either,” you wonder.

“Oh they do. They just like messing with me. Over a decade later they still won’t give the full story. They keep laughing at me, though,” he shares, suddenly missing them.

“Your parents sound amazing,” you say, amused at how close and comfortable their relationship is, similar to how you and your siblings are with your mom.

“They’re insane sometimes, but I guess that’s why it worked with them,” he shares, hoping it doesn’t seem insensitive to you, although you’d talked earlier about your father, saying you no longer hold a grudge against him. 

“Ma is a little crazy and makes Dad laugh all the time. It was like her way to his heart. And I think that’s why he’s still so in love with her.”

You hum, thinking that maybe, it’s just that simple - find someone who makes you laugh, who makes you feel silly, who adores you, who’s sincere with you.

“Is that what you’re trying to do, then? Just making me laugh until I can’t get enough of you?” You cock an eyebrow.

“I thought I annoy you?”

“You make me laugh a lot more, though,” you respond.

“So, is it working?”

“It is.”

You hold his gaze that’s switched from anxious to satisfied, and the way he smiles at you causes a bloom in your heart that you’re unable to temper.

“Good,” he bites his lip, his mind going hazy. “That’s really good.”

**

After your date date with Jungkook, which ended with you cradling Heejin in your arms as he hummed a lullaby to put her back to sleep, you couldn’t wait for another one. But you also realized that it meant she’d miss him, too. 

You were on a video call with him that Thursday after not being able to drop by the cafe and your daughter, who was lying next to you, crawled to your chest to say hi to him.

“Kookoo! Where are you?” She asked in her toddler voice. 

“I’m just here, sunshine,” he replied. “Do you miss me? Because I miss you. We’ll see each other soon, okay?”

She had on a little pout but nodded anyway, and you gave her the bunny stuffed toy from Jungkook to appease her. 

He offered to look after her the next day, though, picking her up from your mom’s place and then spending the afternoon building blocks and practicing colors and animals. 

You arrive home later than usual but with take-out dinner, tiredness from your long day evident in your sighs and shaking hands.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, just exhausted. Had a bit of a meltdown over the sexual harassment case I told you about,” you say. “It’s so pervasive and every time we get cases like this, I’m always reminded of how terribly society treats women and I absolutely hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says. “I can’t imagine what it’s like, but like you said, a win here will do something, however big or small that is. So just keep doing what you’re doing, alright?”

You nod, saying your team debriefs regularly but you just had to release the frustration. He says you’re free to do so and that he’ll stay a little longer in case you want to talk. You both sit at the dining table and talk about the worst parts of the job, the cases that keep you up at night, that completely change how you view life and everything about it. 

Jungkook looks at you and thinks about all the times you’d come home feeling like this and having only Heejin to hear you talk, if you even do. 

He recalls the conversation he had with Yuri and Taehyung at your mom’s place the other week, with them saying that while you talk about your work, you don’t talk about you. They said it’s when you message everyone to meet at your apartment and ask your mom to cook that they know things have been tough, and so they try in whatever way they can to help.

“She was always our second parent,” Yuri said. “Mom took care of all the basic stuff for us but she halved with ___ in the emotional needs department. Our big sister worried for us, carried our burdens, made sure we didn’t feel like too much was missing just because our dad left. I think she’ll always be like that,” she added. “She’ll shoulder everything she can so others wouldn’t, and I just always wondered who would help her when she’s unable to do it alone.”

You’d said once that you go to therapy when you need to, that you spend time with your friends when it gets too much, and that having Heejin has been the greatest help in terms of finding that joy in your life that you don’t depend on others for. 

He knows you do what you can to handle everything your own way, but he also wants nothing more than for you to know that you have him to lean on, and he’d happily carry your burdens with you so you don’t always have to do it on your own. 

He tells you this as you say you’ll get over it, and you smile, saying that he’s been a big help the past few months in getting your mind off things and just feeling that relief when you’re around him. He feels satisfied knowing he’s able to do even just a little bit, though a part of him wishes he could do more, but he keeps that thought tucked in a crevice in his mind. 

You proceed to give Heejin a bath, after cuddle time with her as you hug her tightly, and then taking one yourself as Jungkook reads her a bedtime story. 

You enter her room in your silk pajamas and watch from the door as he talks to her about the legend of the tiger and the magical persimmons.

“She didn’t try to butt in while you read?” You chuckle as you stand next to him.

“Not tonight,” he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Hi, bubba. You sleepy already?” You ask, caressing her cheeks.

“Mama,” she coos, yawning as her eyes flutter close. 

“Goodnight, little one,” you whisper, kissing her nose. 

You and Jungkook head to the couch and you let out a long sigh. You hug the pillow on your lap and curl your toes as the pain reminds you of that long walk you took in your heels to get to your lunch meeting. 

Jungkook watches you in amusement as you settle comfortably on your seat but also sees how you constantly crack your toes. 

He nudges your foot and puts out his hand. “I’m good at massages. Come on.”

You briefly hesitate. It’s a little more intimate than you’re used to, but it’s also something your ex never offered to do because it was always you doing it, and you always did it out of affection. So you give in and let Jungkook take your left foot.

His hand is soft with some rough patches he got from lifting weights. He’s gentle as he kneads your flesh and thumbs your heel. You can’t help but internally moan at how good it feels, prompting you to hug the pillow more tightly and flutter your eyes closed.

You hear him chuckle but he keeps going with your right one this time, putting in pressure where he thinks you need it, then stretching and cracking your toes. 

You finally let out a moan and Jungkook tries hard to pretend it doesn’t affect him. You see him smirk, though, tonguing his lip ring again, looking adorable as he feels proud of being able to affect you this way. 

“All good?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you,” you smile. “Now, your turn. You had a long morning of kneading dough today. Give me your hands.”

He doesn’t hesitate, giving you his right hand and you proceed to massaging it. You briefly trace his calluses, unaware of the chill running down his spine. You mostly use your fingers, cracking and stretching his own, too.

“So this is what it takes to have you hold my hand,” he says, his smug face saying he’s teasing but you also see the hint of desire in them.

“Hey!” You playfully shove him. 

“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “It’s okay. This is nice. Something good to have after a long day.”

“It is,” you agree, feeling his hand tugging your wrist, as if motioning you to come closer.

It’s indeed been a long day, and after talking to him and feeling better with how he listens and encourages you, you want his warmth to comfort you even further. So you scoot next to him, your legs on the floor now as you lean on his shoulder.

You feel him let out a long breath, and afraid to look at him to see the desire in his eyes, you settle against him like this. 

It’s easy to want this with him, but all the more difficult to take things slow. You don’t want to make the same mistakes anymore. It’s not that you compare Jungkook with your ex, but it felt this good, this easy with Yun-seo at one point, and you realized that you dove into it because you felt the comfort from your friendship was enough. 

You want to make sure that you’re certain about Jungkook and that he’s certain about you and Heejin, too. And every intimate moment you share with him is a way for you to settle in the idea, the feeling of having him be part of your life in the long-run. Giving him only bits of and pieces of the affection he’s used to in his relationships is your way of giving him space to back out in case he realizes he doesn’t want it as much as he thinks, and that would leave you less to lose in case he does.

Your friends think Jungkook has proven he’s in this with you, even treating Heejin like his own, not so much to get to you but to show you that he wants her in his life as much as he does you. And you echo those sentiments, but you just want to be sure because you don’t want another heartbreak that you know would hurt so much more if it doesn’t work out.

But it’s days like what you had that feel like a storm - of emotions, of frustrations, of expectations you have for yourself; a day when you feel like it’s a mess around you and you’re trying your hardest to pick up whatever pieces you can. But it’s also evenings like right now when you allow yourself to breathe, to question, to worry, to wonder, wrapped in Jungkook’s warmth that lets you know that whatever it is you’re feeling, it’s gonna be okay. 

And as you feel his strong hand gently caressing your arm and hear his soft humming to a familiar ballad, it’s getting clearer and clearer that you want this everyday, as long as you possibly could.

**

You go on another date with Jungkook that’s just the both of you after work that thankfully had you just staying at the office. 

You do karaoke, with him serenading you and then you, butchering every boyband song you sing. You wander the streets of Ikseon-dong and go from one cafe and stall to another. You try odd-combination but delicious dishes, and the desserts you buy make Jungkook giddy with excitement, especially as you feed each other what you decide to separately order.

It was a date you had after spending the weekend with Heejin - you went to a toy haven kids’ cafe on Saturday and then stayed in to do arts and crafts before heading to Namjoon’s for dinner.

Your daughter’s attachment to Jungkook is one that you don’t take for granted, something that’s different with her attachment to your family given the substantial amount of time the three of you spend together. It’s not easy finding the balance of making sure you don’t want him just because of Heejin but also because of her, the same way it is to know that he’s how he is with her not just because of you. 

But you see enough, you think. Hobi even goes on about Jungkook narrating his babysitting afternoons with Heejin. Jimin shares his friend randomly mentioning her or you during their game or drinking nights. And other than seeing them firsthand enjoy each other’s company - with how Heejin clings to him every time he’s around or how he has the softest, most child-like laughter with her - you also see it when he looks after her when you aren’t around.

The baby monitor records everything, and you had it installed when you started having a babysitter over. When Jungkook would watch over Heejin on some afternoons, you obviously wanted to make sure that everything was okay and that your daughter was comfortable being left alone with him. You find out later on that it’s what you need to see just how those two are with each other when you aren’t really looking.

You sneak in looks even at work, but it’s at the end of the day when you get to see how they spend their time together. Jungkook feeds her the food you’ve prepared and Heejin returns the favor by trying to feed him, too. He’s figured out how she is when she’s hungry, sleepy, or just pooped, and other than when she’s taking her afternoon nap, they have so much fun together that you want nothing more than to be there right with them.

Jungkook has so much energy - for dancing with Heejin, chasing her around, and throwing her up and making her fly like a unicorn - something you don’t have enough of after a day of arguing with people and dealing with assholes as part of your job. 

She likes to converse with him, as if she’s narrating an unbelievable dream she had, and she’s fond of wrapping her arms around him and tucking her head in the crook of his neck. You’ve noticed her try to bite his face a few times. One time you went home with her in braids because she asked Jungkook to do it for her; his proud smile kept you up that night. The warmth in your heart grows as you think that these are the things she does with and asks of you.

What you appreciate the most is how Jungkook never fails to include you in everything that he and Heejin do together. He always sends photos of her to you - usually during playtime - or videos of her saying what she’s doing. They wave at the camera sometimes and he’d call when you say you’re free so she can say hi.

Your favorite was that one time you went home and found an artwork they both made posted on the fridge, the words resembling To Mama bringing tears to your eyes, knowing they’re always thinking of you. The fact that Jungkook takes time to teach her things, whether it’s arts or numbers, makes you feel like you’re not making her miss out on too much, and that Jungkook, as he’s always shown, cares for her in ways you didn’t expect. 

On Jungkook’s end, the joy that he feels when he’s with Heejin is natural and comfortable. It doesn’t surprise him as much, since he’s always loved kids. When he stayed in Busan for two years, he got to bond with his nieces and nephews whom he spent so much time playing with. 

But though Heejin isn’t related to him, there’s a certain connection he feels with her. Maybe it’s being the first person other than you and Sun-hee who got to see how she looked like through the sonogram when he drove you to your checkup that one time. Maybe it’s all the grocery and department store shopping you both did for her. Maybe it’s feeling her kicks in your belly that afternoon when everything changed. Maybe it’s the fact that he’d been there as you pushed her out of you, hearing her cry and seeing her beauty the moment she was born.

Heejin had been a big reason why things didn’t work out with you and him. She was always going to be your priority, and you didn’t want him messing you up or adding to the list of things you had to think or worry about, given his feelings for you then. 

But he always wondered about Heejin all those years of being away. He’d think about her when he’d be with his siblings’ kids, imagining which features of yours she inherited, if she’s as feisty and caring as her mother, if she’s everything you ever dreamed of her to be.

Seeing her photo that time you went to Busan made his heart swell with joy at how much she’s grown, knowing she was a happy child because of the love you shower her with. And finally seeing and spending time with her has meant so much to Jungkook in ways he doesn’t think he’d ever get to explain to you. There’s this carefree feeling when he’s with her, an innocent kind of joy he experiences, and a warmth in his heart when she laughs or smiles or speaks to him.

He doesn’t want to scare you with how he’s gotten to be so attached to her, not wanting you to mistake his affection for her as just a means to get to you. He doesn’t want to trap you, but he also wishes you’d see how natural it’s been for the both of them, and especially the three of you, to enjoy each other’s company and be what outsiders think you to be - a family. 

Because more than anything, any time you’re all together, he feels a sense of completeness he didn’t think he’d ever feel. Like somehow, there’s direction in his life. That he isn’t just living for himself and what makes him enjoy whatever moment he’s in, because now he desires for more of it, thinking of all the other ways he’ll have whatever it is for as long as he can. In this case, more of you and Heejin.

Jungkook was never a planner. He didn’t really value thinking far into the future that much. But with you and her, he feels he’ll get into it because he wants it - that future with both of you, that life of joy and love he feels when you’re all together. He knows now that he doesn’t ever want to be without it ever again.

He thinks about that once more as he waits for you and Heejin in his car for an afternoon at his apartment. The little sunshine has been wanting to go swimming for a while now, but it’s been too cold out to set up the inflatable pool at Namjoon’s backyard and you’d said you’re not keen on going to public pools just to appease her.

Jungkook suggested swimming at the one in his apartment building since it’s indoor. There’s a kids’ pool that Heejin would enjoy, and he thought it would be nice to make dinner to end the day. 

You enter the vehicle with a seemingly excited little one in her adorable sun hat and shades. 

“She insisted on wearing them,” you inform him. “And she was squealing again when I packed her bathing suit. And she had ice cream after lunch. She’s gonna be so full of energy, Jungkook. She’s probably gonna be so loud.”

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles at your already worried face. “I haven’t seen that many people swimming there lately; it’s gonna be fine. Also, so what if she’s loud? That’s why we’re taking her there, so she can enjoy herself.”

“Yeah, but you know how she gets, especially when she’s had sugar,” you say, right as she starts squealing out of nowhere. “Oh gosh, I shouldn’t have given her that ice cream. But she pouted at me and she looked too adorable and I couldn’t say no!” 

“With that cute face, who could say no? But hey, it’s fine. I’ll charm anyone who’ll complain about her and give them cookies, I guess.”

“Fine,” you say. “But seriously though, she’s been waiting for this. She’s realizing her baby tub isn’t big enough for her to swim in so a pool might make her be attached.”

“Well, if she wants to swim every weekend, then why not? That would be nice,” he smirks.

You internally groan because when Jungkook suggested this days ago, you agreed too quickly and did not give yourself time to process what it would mean, mostly for you. Because Jungkook half-naked in a pool making your daughter happy is something that would be too much for you to handle. But you’re here now, on the way to his building wearing a bathing suit under your clothes, half nervous and half excited for today.

You pass by his apartment to pick up some snacks before heading to the pool, satisfied that aside from an elderly man doing laps and the lifeguard on duty, there’s no one else here. You place your things on two lounge chairs near the kids’ pool and immediately have to pacify Heejin who squeals at the sight. 

“You ready to swim, Jinnie?” Jungkook kneels in front of her with a smile that’s just as excited as your daughter’s.

“Swim, Kookoo! I want to swim,” she says, then turns to you. “Mama, swim please,” she mumbles, her sweet smile on display as she knows now that you’re weak for it. 

You nod then sit on the chair so you can remove her outer clothes. “Okay, bubba. But let me put on your gear first, okay?”

You put the vest over her head then her arms through the additional floaters, explaining to her that those will help her comfortably and safely swim. She hasn’t swam much so you’re quite worried that the devices won’t be enough, but you know she doesn’t like feeling too constricted so you needed her to wear something that would make her feel more free.

You repeatedly adjust and then check if you put them on properly until you feel Jungkook kneel next to you.

“Hey, I’ve got her, alright? I won’t let anything bad happen to her,” he assures you.

“Okay,” you smile. “I’ll go in later. I wanna take pictures and videos first.”

“Got it. I’ll try not to get in the way,” he says, his smug face telling you he probably won’t keep his word. 

Taking Heejin’s hand, you lead her towards the pool while Jungkook undresses. You hear him unzip his hoodie and feel him shuffle behind you, using this time to prepare yourself before he stands before you half-naked and, well, it wasn’t really enough. 

“Ready, sunshine?” He asks, but he stands there with his eyes quickly shifting to you. 

You try to focus on his face, instructing him to just carry Heejin while he descends the stairs, and he cheekily smiles at you the whole time. 

“Goodness, Jungkook, make sure you hold her the entire time and not show-off,” you frown at him. 

“Hey, what do you think of me?” He chuckles. “Just so you know, it’s Heejin first, you second. I’ll show-off when we’re out of the water.”

“Why are you already so annoying?” 

“Why are you not taking your eyes off my face?”

His cocked eyebrow makes you want to smack him because he knows how he’s affecting you. He’s now come to know the ways he can fluster you and he uses them to his advantage, like now, as you glance at his form in gray swim shorts and his bare upper body. You don’t have time nor the resolve to observe every inch of his skin, but his fully-tattooed arm catches your attention and that’s where your eyes linger.

“That too much?” He asks, prompting you to look at him again.

“No. It’s uh, nice. And also, I’m kind of a sucker for toned arms so please get in the water now before I stare at them longer,” you ramble, earning you a loud chuckle. 

“That’s very nice to know, ___,” he says. “You’re free to stare at them for as long as you want. I’d love that, actually.”

“Okay, whatever,” you respond, nudging him towards the water because of the screaming little girl who’s growing impatient. 

Jungkook follows, carrying Heejin then descending the stairs. She giggles once she feels the water up to her belly, and he secures her in his arms once they’ve made it down and he’s kneeling on the floor. 

“You like that, sunshine? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Heejin just responds in giggles and squeals, and with the acoustics of the indoor pool, her sounds echo throughout, and you’re truly glad neither of the two other individuals seem to care. 

Jungkook speaks to her the entire time, asking how she’s liking it, teaching her how to kick, letting her splash water onto him then pouring some on her head, too. She follows most of his instructions but still chooses to do what she wants - like flailing her arms and squealing, climbing on his shoulders then jumping off of him, then hugging him for a bit of rest.

You watch from the ledge with your phone in hand, taking numerous photos and videos that you immediately send to your group chat with your family and best friends, all of whom comment on Heejin and Jungkook. 

[the twin 2 🎷] How’s your heart? Has it betrayed you yet? 🤣

[the brat 😈] Why aren’t you in the pool?? Go get sum of that, sis 👅

[the twin 1 🌳] Wewww he’s got armsssss. Aren’t you a sucker for nice arms? Ur ded, good luck

[the queen mother 👑] Aww, honey. Heejin looks like she’s having so much fun! Let’s schedule a beach trip soon! 😍

[the best friend 1 👯‍♀️] Heejin is so adorable, babe! Also, look at how happy Jungkook is! He’s so whipped for her it’s too sweet 🥺

[the best friend 2 🧠] Yeah, and ___ is so whipped for him. We better get family pics like the last time ok! 👍🏽

You groan at their replies, but you also expected it. They had similar reactions when you mentioned coming over today and your chat group went off that you muted it for two days. 

“Hey, you okay there? Fighting someone?” Jungkook asks as he lets Heejin lie on her back while he supports her. 

“The chat’s a mess. I’m showing photos of Heejin but they’re mostly commenting about you.”

“Hope it’s good stuff,” he chuckles.

“Hmm, can’t tell.”

“Well, they’re probably wondering why you’re not with us,” he says. “Come, please. I’m sure Jinnie wants you here.”

You agree, knowing you were going to do it anyway. You walk towards the lounge chair and slowly remove the sweats and sweater you have on, choosing to turn away from the pool as you do. You make your way towards Jungkook and Heejin, with the former looking at you so fondly, something you don’t expect. 

You’re not at your most confident with your one-piece bathing suit unlike when you’re in power suits, but even with having less clothes on - with just a bit of cleavage showing - you don’t feel uncomfortable around him. 

Taking a dip, you feel the warm water soothe you, and you take your daughter in your arms, smiling as hers wrap around your neck. 

“Mama! I like to swim,” she says, splashing the water that hits your face. 

“I’m sure you do, bubba. We’ll do this more often, just ask Kookoo.”

Jungkook smiles, knowing already that this is going to be a staple date for the three of you. He wants to go on beach trips, too, maybe go to a resort and enjoy activities together, or maybe make snow angels and teach you and Heejin how to ski. There are so many things that Jungkook wants to experience with the both of you and the thought of it makes him giddy and weak in the knees.

The hour goes by with you and Jungkook just watching Heejin play in the water with the toys you brought. She likes to kick and splash but absolutely loves it when Jungkook supports her back as she floats, her eyes closed and her soft smile telling you that she’s absolutely enjoying herself. 

You sit on the steps while Jungkook kneels, guiding Heejin to paddle towards your awaiting arms, then hugging her tightly when she makes it to you. It’s fun to be experiencing this with her, as her swimming time at Namjoon’s some months ago had you only guiding her from outside the pool. To be doing this with her is something you know she’ll remember, especially with Jungkook playing as her ship, the shark, and her human floater. 

Jungkook sits next to you, his bare arm barely grazing yours, and plays with Heejin’s legs as she lies down on the pineapple floater he got her. 

“Hey, ___. Can we have a photo of the three of us again?” He asks, like he does ever since you’ve started these family dates. Heejin doesn’t always stay still but in recent weeks, she’s been a lot more obedient when you ask her to smile.

“Of course,” you say, pulling your daughter close to you. “The group chat hasn’t shut up asking for it.”

Jungkook chuckles while you sit a frowning Heejin on your lap. 

“Mama, pineapple!” She mumbles.

“Yes, bubba. You can still play with it, but is it okay if we have a photo with Kookoo?” You face her. “Like the ones we took before?”

She looks at you with furrowed brows and a tilt of her head, so Jungkook takes his phone and browses through his photos to show her.

You catch the albums he goes through - of memes he sends you, of dessert inspirations, his own creations, and then one labeled as “🌻.”

“Is that an album of us?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah,” he shyly answers, nibbling his lip ring again. “I put our photos here so it’s easier to find when I’m tired, you know? Or when I didn’t see you both that day, or when I’m… when I’m missing or thinking about you.”

You catch sight of the ones from the library and the beach, from the cafes and the park, from Alpaca World and the aquarium. There are those from your apartment, and the ones you send him like when you were in Hong Kong and during random, sometimes rainy, days when you’re also missing and thinking about him.

“That weird?” He asks, as he finds a photo to show Heejin.

“No. It’s sweet, actually. Mind sharing the album with me? There are a few I could maybe add,” you smile, meeting his soft eyes. “It’d be nice to have something when we’re missing you, too.”

“Sure,” he says, unable to hold his own grin. 

You all look at the photo he’d chosen, the one from a dessert parlor where Heejin was so amused with the unicorn ice cream. You and Jungkook loved her reaction so you both kept taking pictures and he’d asked for one of all three of you and he happened to take candid ones where you all were laughing. 

You remember that day, how he kept “accidentally” staining his face with ice cream to entertain Heejin. She wouldn’t stop giggling and you just adored how she sounded. You took baby wipes to clean Jungkook’s face, and you burned under his gaze as you did, your heart hammering in your chest the way it is now, as his hand trails from your shoulder to your waist to bring you closer.

“Bubba, can you smile, please?” 

Heejin’s suddenly in the mood as she stands to pose, arms up like a little superstar while Jungkook takes the photo. She then turns to kiss you, which is also captured, and then turns to hug Jungkook, which he also takes. 

“Thank you, Jinnie,” Jungkook chirps.

“You’re welcome, Kookoo!” She beams.

He shares you the album and you promptly send one of your complete photos to your chat group then mute it - you don’t want to deal with their teasing right now when you still feel the effects of being in this pool with Jungkook, trying hard not to gaze at his toned form and trace the art on his right arm. 

You let Heejin lie on the floater a little more while you massage her feet as she requested, and it’s not long after when you decide to wash up and prepare her for her afternoon nap, given that she woke up early and expended so much energy in the past few hours. 

Jungkook insists that you and Heejin shower at his apartment, which you agree to but you say you’ll both change first so you’re not dripping wet. Cheerfully exiting the shower room, you see Jungkook by the lounge chair, a towel over his shoulders, happily chatting with two women who sound so familiar, like the neighbors you’d heard the first time you were at his apartment.

You walk slowly, your smile gradually falling as you observe their body language - from the way they constantly glance at Jungkook’s bare chest to the distance between them that slowly decreases. Their giggles echo in the pool area, and you don’t miss how he seems to return the playful way they talk to him. 

Not wanting to disturb their conversation, you quietly fix your things but Heejin, deciding otherwise, starts running towards Jungkook and wraps her arms around his legs. 

“Hey, sunshine,” he says, carrying her in his arms. “You and your Mama good?”

“Kookoo! I want swim again,” she mumbles.

The two women coo at her and ask who she is, but you take her from Jungkook before he gets to say anything.

“Bubba, I still need to dry your hair. Come here.”

You do so as Jungkook says goodbye to the two women. You turn down his offer to carry your bags and make your way to the elevator, opting to talk to Heejin and not look at him the whole way up. 

“You sure it’s okay for us to have our bath here?” You ask, your face still turned away from him.

“Of course! I’ll get you some towels,” he says, choosing not to think too much of your change in demeanor.

You thank him then make your way to the guest bathroom where you take your time to wash up. Jungkook said he’ll make dinner tonight, and not wanting the sight of those young women clearly flirting with him from earlier mess up your day together, you get over whatever bad feeling you have and ask him what he’s cooking. 

“There’s this roasted pork belly I tried making so I’ll prepare that. And kimchi pancake and sides. I have a charcuterie board here, too. Those okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you say.

You tuck Heejin in the guest bedroom at Jungkook’s insistence for her to sleep there, and then you make your way back to the kitchen where he’s preparing the ingredients. 

On his kitchen counter, you see the cheese and cold cuts board next to a bottle of wine. There’s a card that says, thanks for all the help, looking forward to the next time ;) signed by names you’d heard him say earlier at the pool. 

“These from your neighbors?” You ask while he preps the meat.

“Ah, yeah. They gave it to me this morning, said I should share it with Jimin and Hobi. Obviously not because I want to have them with you,” he smirks.

“What’s it for? Just nothing? And what help? What’s happening next time?”

You suddenly feel sick with how intrusive you’re sounding, something you don’t like because you’re not normally like this. But the sight from earlier and now this little gift causes a lump in your throat from some flashbacks that are quite unnerving, and somehow, Jungkook’s cheeky gaze isn’t helping. 

“Ooh, so many questions. You jealous?” It’s that smug face that you usually take lightly and recently have been finding adorable. But not today.

“Are you trying to make me?” You say, your firm and slightly annoyed tone, an unfamiliar one.

“No, of course not,” Jungkook defends.

“Then answer the questions directly. If you don’t want to, then just say so. Why does it have to be me being jealous?”

“I was just teasing,” he says softly and a little displeased with himself, like he’s a child being reprimanded.

“I know, you do that a lot, even if it’s a sensitive topic. Like sure, tease about your flirty neighbors like I didn’t get cheated on with one, but it’s fun for you so go ahead.”

The lump in your throat comes out as words you say too quickly before you could filter them, and with a tone you use only when you’re irritated that Jungkook isn’t used to, you see his face fall. 

He stands there seemingly not knowing what to do, as he turns away from your glare that’s equal parts frustrated and hurt. You’ve never seen him look so alarmed and powerless. Not even that afternoon in your apartment when you pushed him away after he kissed you could match this. And suddenly, all you want is to see that smirk and the scrunch of his nose, have him tease you until you’re smacking his arm playfully, until he finally says he’s just joking and that he just wanted to hear you laugh. 

You don’t like this version of him, the one that looks demoralized and that feels like he’s slowly losing everything after all the work to get here just because you were being too sensitive. 

“I’m sorry, that was… that was uncalled for,” you admit, walking towards him to try to get him to look at you. “I shouldn’t have questioned you like that. They gave you the package and you just received it and I guess I just got triggered because they were a little too comfortable with you earlier. It shouldn’t be an issue, we’re not–”

“Together, I know.”

Jungkook finishes the sentence, which again, you said too quickly without thinking. It’s not exactly what you meant to say, though you’re unsure why you even thought of saying it.

“We’re just dating. We spend time together, do all these things together. We go on dates but you don’t seem to want to hold my hand or hug me. It’s fine,” he sighs. “So yeah, no reason for you to be jealous, I guess. I’m sorry I teased about it.”

“So that’s what it means for you? Because I don’t give in to your need for affection, there's no reason to feel alarmed at your neighbors’ interest in you?” You say, being defensive. 

“You’re literally the one who meant to say that we’re not together and that obviously implies a lot of things,” he sighs. “I don’t force you into anything because I want this so much and I don’t want to screw it up, but you’re being confusing and I’m not sure what you want from me right now.”

He sounds defeated and it’s something you’re not used to.

“I was out of line to tease you about that, I’m sorry. And if what I said about us just dating implied that all I want is physical affection from you, then I’m sorry about that, too,” he adds. “But you can’t go acting like it affected you, then say you shouldn’t be questioning me in the first place, and then be upset about what I said.”

He mirrors your questioning eyes and he groans. “Fuck, I’m not even making sense right now.”

The way your heart sinks to the ground tells you just how much a sad and upset Jungkook is one you don’t ever want to see, especially if it’s because of you. And all you want is to hold him - get rid of whatever’s holding you back from the affection you know he wants so badly to give and that you want to reciprocate - and just have him close to you. 

But he speaks before you get to.

“Look, I don’t really know how to deal with things like this,” he admits. “I wanna cry but also cuss out and be angry but I also want to apologize and ask you to forgive me, but I’m not good with… this. And I don’t want to say something I’ll regret nor be the receiver of whatever you’re gonna say so, uh, I’ll just go for a walk outside, okay? I realized I need scallions and some appetizers because I don’t really feel like eating that anymore,” he says, taking the charcuterie board and throwing it in the trash. 

“I won’t take long. I’ll get the pork in the oven after. Just get yourself comfortable and I’ll be back soon.”

He doesn’t wait for your response. He just heads out the door and leaves you in his apartment with a bigger lump in your throat and your crushed heart in your hands.

**

Jungkook gets back after two hours. In the silence of his apartment with nothing but Heejin’s soft breathing, you hear the front door open. You walk out the room and watch him with a bag of groceries and cans of beer that he puts in his fridge, perhaps his companions tonight after he takes you back home. 

In the time that he was out, you laid next to your daughter and watched her sleep. Her puffy cheeks and parted little lips were the only things that made you smile. She looked so tired but you knew she had a lot of fun. She turned to her side and probably felt you near her, as her arm stretched out and found yours. 

You caressed her face and gently kissed her nose, and the joy you felt when you have your whole word in your hand is unmatched. It’s like all the worst things could happen to you but then you see her and all of that fades away, and all of a sudden, everything is clear. All you need is her. And you know that at least for now, all she needs is you. 

Aside from your family, the closest you get to feeling like that clarity is with Jungkook, because as you watched him walk out the door, you felt your heart break at hurting him again, feeling the parts of you that he glued together crack at his absence, at his disappointment, at his own defeat. 

When he left you in that hospital room after you’d given birth to Heejin, there was a feeling of loss that you weren’t ready to admit, and you spent years after that trying to make sure it didn’t overwhelm you, that it didn’t make you doubt the decision that you made to walk away from him the first time and then to let him walk away from you after. Your resolve was so strong then, even when you saw him in Busan with another woman in his arms. And even all the times you saw him after; even recently. 

You know you’re holding on to what little control you have left because deep down you know that he’s taken your heart, and giving someone the power to do whatever they want with it is absolutely terrifying. But that’s the thing, you think. You have to trust them that they won’t, and you’re still on that path to trusting Jungkook that he won’t hurt you, that he won’t do what Yun-seo did to you, that he’ll stay by your side no matter what. 

“Hey,” you utter, standing beside the couch he’s sitting on, head lolled back and eyes closed as he massages his temples. “Cleared your mind yet?”

“Somewhat,” he says. “You?”

“Somewhat,” you manage a smile. 

He returns a faint one and you hate this, but you also know this is on you. You sit next to him and he stays in place, barely angling himself towards you.

“So, uh, there’s a lot to say and unpack and I don’t know where to start,” you state.

“Just start somewhere.”

“Okay,” you huff, not used to this version of you, too. “I was just a bit uneasy with those women because they seem like your type of people. And they’re young. And they’re gorgeous, and pretty hot. And your neighbors.”

“And?” 

“And… Well, it’s not that I think they’re better than me nor do I think I’m better than them but… I don’t know. Flashbacks of Yun-seo, I guess. And how I was too trusting then. And I don’t normally get jealous but just seeing them with you, it was a new feeling. And then they got you a package and I just went off without thinking of what I was saying and how it came across. I was being unfair and I’m sorry,” you ramble.

“They do those boards and grazing tables and stuff,” he says after a while. “They rush-ordered a cake for a party and I got it done and they got me something as a thank you and–”

“You don’t have to explain, Jungkook. And I don’t mean that in the way I seemed to imply earlier. I was being stupid.”

“No, you aren’t. And I’m explaining it to you because I want you to trust me. Even if you don’t trust the people around me, I need you to trust me. Because the last thing I want is for you to compare me to your ex-boyfriend because I would never, ever do that to you, ___,” he explains, turning his head to face you.

“And I get you being wary but it just hurts that you think I would do that. Even if you found out what he did after the fact, I know it affected you a lot but… If the reason why you’re taking your time with us is because you’re scared I’d do what he did to you, then let me know now, because I don’t think I’ve done anything to make you think I’d do that but at least I’d know what to do or not do so you would trust me.”

It’s a lot for him to say, mostly because Jungkook was never this serious with you. He’s been honest with his feelings, definitely, persistent and unyielding as if nothing you do would ever faze him, so hearing the hurt in his voice and seeing him be so vulnerable - as he covers his eyes with his arms - lets you know this took a lot for him to say, too. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, trying hard not to cry. “I got ahead of myself and didn’t stop to think and I always do. I guess I just got scared, like it was deja vu because I was a stupid woman those years ago and I’m in the cusp of giving my heart to you and I just freaked out. And that’s on me. You’re not like him, Jungkook. I’m sorry I made you feel like you are.”

There’s a beat of silence that’s quite unnerving, but then he fully faces you and smiles, the widest he possibly can at a time like this. 

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” he says, merely patting our hand. “I’m sorry, too. I guess I just wanted to feel good about myself, about us, and that was a distasteful joke. It won’t happen again.”

He’s rooted in the corner of the couch where he’s sitting, and you want his warmth, want him to know you’re sorry and that you forgive him with more than just your words. 

“Also, about what you said, about not holding your hand or hugging you—”

“I said that in the heat of the moment,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

“I’m not exactly an affectionate person, unless it’s my family or my best friend,” you say, disregarding what he’d just said. “And I wasn’t always good with the intimate stuff or at least, I didn’t always do them. When it comes to things like that, I really take my time. Even more now when I don’t want to make a mistake with who I’m gonna be with. Physical affection means a lot to me in whatever form.” 

“Jin, though? Didn’t you guys hook up all the time?”

“Not exactly. I mean, we’d make out and a little something more but not like, all the way. And that’s different.”

“How is that different from holding my hand? Or even kissing me that first time?” He frowns.

“Because it was never serious with Jin. We did stuff because we were frustrated - with work, at each other… it was to release negative emotions after fighting over a case and…” you explain, “it’s not the same with you, you know that. It’s so much more with you.”

You see Jungkook’s face soften a bit but he doesn’t say anything, and you know that a bit more vulnerability is what he needs.

“Byeol used to tease me a lot with Jin, you know?” You continue. “He and I have been friends for over a decade and we just always got along. It wasn’t until we started working together that the tension heightened, especially after my breakup and we just… yeah, like I said, it was just tension. But after you, Byeol realized why it never worked out with him. Because whatever line Jin and I crossed never scared me. What we had didn’t go any deeper than lust and we both knew that but you… I was scared of a lot of things. And it just seemed better to not have you there at all. It was better than the possibility of you leaving, of you not staying, of me falling for you and then losing you.”

“What about now? Are you still scared?”

“I’m a planner, Jungkook. A perfectionist. I’m always scared,” you chuckle. “That’s why I plan. And overthink. It’s maybe also why I got cheated on. But I don’t want to miss out on good things. And while whatever fear I have won’t ever really go away, it’s trust that matters, trust in you that you won’t make those fears come true.” 

Jungkook manages a smile, and the relief you feel is overwhelming. It takes a lot for you to be this honest with him, or to anyone for that matter, especially when it comes to admitting things that you only really keep to yourself. 

“Are you scared of anything?” You ask.

“You’re asking me? I’m a fearless guy, ___.”

His serious demeanor cracks almost immediately, and the sound of his laughter echoes in his living room. 

“No, but seriously. I’m not really scared of a lot of things. I think that’s why it’s so easy for me to just do whatever, you know? Pour my heart into something or someone and then move on to the next whatever if things don’t work out,” he says. “But aside from microwaves and losing to Jimin in Mario Kart, I’m scared of losing you and Heejin. Like, I’m fucking terrified. So when you ghosted me for weeks those years ago, and even recently, I was losing my mind. And it became insanely clear just how much you both mean to me. And that’s why no matter your pace, I’ll follow. I’ll take whatever you can give me than nothing at all. Because you, Heejin, us… that’s what I want; I always have.”

You can’t stop the smile that graces your face at his words. And you know nothing you’ll say will ever be enough - to comfort him, affirm him, thank him, so you do what you know will work.

You turn over his hand that’s resting on his thigh then intertwine your fingers with his, filling the spaces to let him know that you’ll keep doing that for him - filling the cracks, filling what’s missing. 

“Hmm,” he says, nibbling his lips to temper his smile. “This is nice.”

You thumb his hand, letting yourself get used to having him fill your spaces like this, too. But you want to say more, so you briefly let him go and wrap your arms around his torso, your head resting on his chest as you snuggle closer to him. 

He’s warm and soft and the most comfortable thing you’ve ever had in your arms, aside from Heejin, of course. And he smells of baby powder and the rain outside. You can feel the strong body underneath that you spent hours ogling earlier, holding its breath. But Jungkook recovers, as he tightens his hold around you, a wholesome moan escaping his lips at the feel of you so close.

You lift your head to face him, a cheeky smile on your face this time as you kiss his cheeks, letting it linger for him to be able to process it. You feel him hold his breath again, and turning to face him once more, his wide eyes meet your playful ones. 

“Okay, maybe a heads up next time? I may have implied we’re going a little slow but you didn’t have to do all that in succession, you know?”

His shocked face makes you chuckle, and you kiss him again just to tease.

“Gosh, Jungkook. It’s just a kiss on the cheek. Are you in 6th grade?”

“More like 2nd grade. I had my first kiss when I was like, 8 or something.”

“What?!” You giggle. “Some lover boy you are! Who was the lucky girl?”

“This fourth grader in my piano class. I guess I was always an older woman magnet or something,” he winks.

And there he is, your cheeky Jungkook, making you laugh and be all flustered again. 

“Okay, back to 2nd grade then,” you say, kissing his cheek once more.

“Alright, other cheek now. And three times, too, yeah?”

“Yah! I make the rules,” you cock an eyebrow.

“Oh, right, okay the–” he says, eating his words as you kiss his right cheek multiple times.

“I’m serious about giving me a heads up, ___. I’m literally losing my shit right now.”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“Yeah, get used to it,” he says, tickling you as you continue to taunt him. 

You squeal as you wiggle on his couch, especially as you lay on your back and he locks your lower body in his thighs. Ending up on top of you, his hands are around your wrist and his soft eyes turn desirous as he continues to gaze at you. 

You see him eye your lips and you eye his, the tension suddenly increasing tenfold and you’re teetering on the edge again, but it’s the same moment that Heejin wakes up from her nap and starts calling for you. 

“Well, duty calls,” you laugh, sitting up as Jungkook sighs and releases you from his hold. 

“Go, she might be needing something,” he says. “I’ll prepare dinner.”

You nod and head to the room, briefly speaking to Heejin about her nap and then taking her in your arms. You carry her as you both watch Jungkook work around the kitchen, putting everything in pans then chucking them inside the oven. 

He joins you on the couch soon after, with his one arm around you and his other arm holding Heejin who’s comfortably seated on his lap. You all watch the videos you took at the pool earlier, and watching Heejin laugh while she watches herself is your new favorite sound of hers. 

You lean on Jungkook as he sings her a song, something she moves her body and adorably sings along to. It’s like they have their own world sometimes and they just get each other, especially as Jungkook talks to her about her sleep and she mumbles words, most of which you understand, her arms flailing as if to make a point. 

“Yeah, that’s good, Jinnie. Nice talk,” he says, giving her a high five. 

You share the moment in silence after just watching her bounce on Jungkook’s lap and mumble more words, the smile on both your faces getting softer by the minute. 

He’s so smitten with her, and much as you want him to know that he won’t lose you, you want him to know that he won’t lose Heejin, too. 

Knowing that she tends to follow you when you prompt her, you motion for her to look at you, and when she does, you move to kiss Jungkook on the cheek again, his eyes briefly closing at the feel of you.

Heejin smiles and does the same, falling forward on Jungkook’s chest, inching up to peck his cheek, too.

“Aww, Jinnie. Did you just give me a kiss?” He says tenderly. “That’s very sweet of you, sunshine. Can I give you one?”

She squeals his name as he caresses her cheek, then he moves forward and gently kisses her forehead. 

“Following your Mama, huh? She’s a sneaky one, isn’t she?” 

“Oh, shush. You enjoyed it,” you laugh.

“I did, very much,” he proudly smiles.

You settle there for a little while before Heejin slides off of Jungkook’s lap and runs towards the TV, tapping it before yelling that she wants to watch. You take her on the couch with you and put on some cartoons while Jungkook sets the table and puts out your dinner, with dumplings as appetizers this time.

You win over the argument of cleaning up the kitchen while he plays blocks with Heejin, who seems to not run out of energy, before finally heading back to your apartment.

Chuckling at a dozed off Heejin, you and Jungkook share in the sounds of the music softly playing in the car as you think about how today went. It felt so real, like you were playing with Jungkook and then proceeding to argue with him. 

You won’t deny that it scared you how things were going to go - you tend to be defensive and quite hot-tempered when you get into arguments. And you feared that with Jungkook’s emotional tendencies, you were both going to clash. But you surprised yourself, keeping your cool for the most part and apologizing immediately, and he surprised you, too, calling you out without being dismissive nor rude.

It makes you think that life with him would be like this. You won’t always see eye-to-eye. You’ll have moments of misjudgment or miscommunication, but you realized today that it takes a certain person to make you check yourself when you’re in a situation that is threatening and anxiety-inducing for you, someone you care deeply about, someone like Jungkook. He’s that balance of telling you how he feels without meaning to hurt you, making sure you hear his side while trying to understand yours. 

Your brother was right that respect and maturity is something taught, and with how your life is and how you are, you need that kind of person next to you.

You hold Jungkook’s hand for the rest of the drive, not saying much until you get home other than asking him to help you bathe a sleeping Heejin and then prepare her for bed. He does as you ask, setting up the tub inside the shower while you remove her clothes, then making sure she doesn’t wake up all the way until you’re putting on her pajamas. 

It’s goodnight kisses from you and Jungkook and even this feels so domestic, so natural. And for the first time, you don’t feel scared. 

“We’re okay, right?” You turn to him as you both exit the room. “I don’t wanna go to bed upset, or knowing that you are. I need to know that we’re fine.”

“Hey, I’m here with you. Of course we are,” he assures. “And I think we handled that pretty well. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think we did,” you smile. “I guess I was expecting more fireworks from me or even you but uh, I hated seeing you upset. Like, you aren’t Jungkook if you’re not laughing or annoying the heck out of me.”

“Well, I’m not all that. I was freaking out like, a whole lot. I always do that. I just don’t wanna show you because I don’t want you to think I’m this kid who doesn’t know what to do when shit hits the fan or something,” he says, his face falling a bit.

“You didn’t seem like that earlier, though.”

“I was close to it. That’s why I went for a walk. I was on the phone with my sister for an hour, actually. She was talking me through things.”

“Really?“ you ask, a little surprised because he seemed like he was holding his own earlier.

“Yeah. Every time I’d feel nervous or scared or upset when it comes to you, I always talk to someone, usually Hobi or Jimin or even Dea. I told you, I’m not good with confrontations and stuff like that,” he huffs. “I’m persistent but I was always afraid I’d scare you off or push you away and they had to ground me, call me out, tell me when I’m being too much, stop me from waiting outside your office when you weren’t talking to me and I hate that I even considered that, but yeah.”

He looks at you with wide, nervous eyes, and if earlier you’d seen pain, this time you see worry.

“Since I told my sister about us, I’ve started to talk to her, too. And I knew she’d calm me down and she did. She’s a weird ass sometimes but she knows me the most. She really helped me today,” he continues.

“I’m sorry again. I… I get confrontational and sensitive sometimes,” you say.

“It’s okay, we all do. I’ve just never really had those moments in my past relationships, you know? So I didn’t really know what to do.”

“Yeah? Never fought with any of the exes?” 

“Not really. Everything was too simple and easy, but that’s not to say that it isn’t with you,” he clarifies as your brows start to furrow. “I mean, it was just all fun. There weren’t fights because there wasn’t much to fight for, I guess. Emotions heighten when things mean a lot to you, so yeah. I’m sorry, too, again.”

Nibbling on his lip ring and looking at the ground with his hands in his pocket, Jungkook’s boyish charms shine through. He surprises you a lot, and you like that he makes you feel that way, like you can feel all kinds of emotions with him and you’re assured, at the end of the day, that he just wants things to work out. 

And you know that’s the kind of partner you want, that you need, that you’ll go through lengths to fight with and for because he’s worth it. You know that now.

You wrap your arms around him to say all the words that you can’t. For a lawyer, there are some things you can’t articulate, and that’s the care that you have for him, the fear of losing him, the affection that you hope to one day show him.

His hold around you tightens, and it’s like he just knows.

“It’s not gonna be easy, it hasn’t been,” he whispers. “But that’s how I knew I wanted you for real. Because when things got hard, all I wanted was to be next to you. And I think I’m gonna want that for a long time.”

You let out a long breath, because for all the flowery words he’d said that you knew he still means, these ones somehow hit home. 

You don’t say it back, you just hug him tighter, too, and it’s all he needs.

You’re all the seasons, all the stars in the sky; you’re all the promises he’ll keep, all the fights he’ll have, all the still days and hurricanes he’ll weather. It’s all you and Heejin in his world, and he can’t wait for the day he gets to be all those for you, too. That he gets to be the one you choose everyday, if possible. That he gets to be the lucky person whom you learn to love.

##

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[green-ville]

Run Boy Run pt 4

Lonely

Sorry for not posting in a while. I had exams last week and promptly became deceased (college = fun). My brain is still fried and I don't know how I've managed to string this sentence together. But, I've passed all my classes after an astounding 3 mental breakdowns in a 30 day time period. That's a 200% increase from last semester. ;) Anyway, enjoy.

__________

            Giavanna felt terrible. It was debatable between whether she should feel terrible or not, because it wasn't everyday five werewolves show their faces in the woods at night. However, assault as a first line of defense was frowned upon in many states.

          That was why she kept apologizing. The issue was she was apologizing to Wednesday, who did not care.

          After Wednesday woke up, the situation was better explained. No, these were not attackers; they were students probably playing a prank on the new girl. Giavanna immediately felt terrible, took away the nets, and started apologizing; only for the Dean to show up with another teacher because reports of at least a dozen students being out of bed.

          It was a party. Giavanna got out of trouble because she said she was doing wards, the Dean looked at Wednesday with a sigh and said 'again?', and the wolves didn't shift back to hide their identities. They tried to postpone their punishment for as long as possible, but their detention was inevitable.

          By the time Giavanna was going back to her room, she was shaking from the cold. Even if she did make her skort longer, it wasn't going to become any thicker, so she didn't see the point in wasting magic. She just hoped it would be warmer.

          It was not warmer in the room, but it would be inaccurate to say she didn't warm up a little when she noticed Xavier was still in the room. Sitting on her bed, long legs crossed, drawing away in a sketchbook. He looked up, hair in a bun but smaller strands falling forward.

          Concern melted his composure. He sat forward, legs sweeping off the bed, casted leg slower. "What happened? Why're you shaking."

          Giavanna went for a reassuring smile. "Oh, uh, I overreacted."

          Wednesday cut in, correcting her. "The wolves attempted a prank and came to realize the error in the ways. Are you finished?"

          "Finished – er, yeah." He realized what she meant after he began, flipping back in his sketchbook. He kept it open, about to show her. Giavanna tried to get a look but Wednesday closed it around his thumb, pulling it away.

          "I'll return it to you tomorrow." She went to the window, opened the small door, and left.

          Xavier waited a beat. "No, please, I didn't need that."

          Giavanna's lips quirked. "She's a little different. Does she always just collapse on the ground?'

          Xavier's brows rose. "Uh, that's how she gets her visions. Well, not how, that's what happens when she gets her visions."

          Giavanna felt even worse. "Well now I feel extra terrible, should I have helped her at all? I just stood there like an idiot!"

          This did not go how Xavier expected. Most people shied away from Wednesday this far in the game. "Er, well, no, just. . .we've always just let it happen, actually. Are you cold still? You're like purple?"

          "I'm so cold, I was not expecting the temperature to drop so much, I do not think it's like this where I'm from." Wherever the hell that is.

          "I've got clothes you can borrow; I'll go grab them from my room –"

          She flushed cherry red. "That is so nice of you, but you're already letting me borrow your jacket, I can't possibly borrow anything else."

          "It's not like I'm going to wear my entire wardrobe tonight," he smiled at her, standing up, leaning on his crutch. "C'mon, you can walk me to my room. One, I'll need help down the stairs. Two, that way you know where to find me if you ever need anything."

          He was right in front of her now. "And anyway, if the jackets any indication, you'll look good in the rest of my clothes too."

          She could not possibly get any redder. How red was she? She wasn't even cold anymore. She was warm as hell (ironic). She was overheating. Self-combusting. Suffering severe heart dysrhythmias that were noticeable without an EKG.

          "I'm only coming to help you down the stairs," she decided, looking down, away from him. "I can't borrow anymore clothes."

          He nodded, opening the door for her. "Of course, yeah." The look in his eyes told her that he knew something she didn't, and quite frankly she didn't want to find out.

          It was a whole ordeal getting Xavier down the stairs. I know what you're thinking, it should be easy to get Xavier down the stairs, just hold onto him. Stop right there, that was the problem. Giavanna was uncomfortable touching him. She hesitated to put her arm around him, he said it was alright, she asked if he was sure he was fine with this, he asked if she was uncomfortable with this, she started stumbling over her words, then he said he could get down by himself. He looked like he was going to end up falling down the staircase so Giavanna swept in, grabbed onto his waist, and helped him down. She kept apologizing for touching him, she was extremely uncomfortable the entire time, and once they were done getting down all the steps, she distanced herself from him.

          Xavier had a much easier and more independent time getting upstairs. He did take note of how she was always half a step behind him on the stairs, however. In case he did fall, she'd be there.  

          She found out the next morning what Xavier knew. She was the tallest girl in the school. Wednesday's offer of borrowing Enid's clothes would've got her charged with public indecency. It was either be cold again or borrow clothes from someone that was taller than her, and therefore, their clothes would fit her.

          Want to know who was taller than her? The options were thin.

          Xavier Thorpe stood two inches taller than her 6'0 frame, his clothing fit similarly on her as how it fit on him, with the exception of a noticeable tightness at her chest and her hips. The joggers were otherwise loose, and she fancied up the long sleeve t-shirt by tucking it in to give herself a waist again.

          She finally got access to a brush and took out all the knots in her hair. Giavanna even got to braid her hair because Xavier had a few ponytails laying around. She smiled, thinking about him with his hair in a bun.

          When she stepped out of the bathroom, she struck a pose. "How do I look?"

          Xavier looked up from packing his bag. He glanced over her slowly, smile pulling up. "I was right. You wear it better than me."

          "Please, with the bags under my eyes and my countless blemishes, I'm struggling for a 4/10." She moved forward, hands behind her back. Her braid swung behind her. "Speaking of bags, you didn't sleep well last night either, did you?"

          The sound of his zipper closing his books in was the only thing that sounded in the room. The room with two perfectly made beds, one as equally as unused as its counterpart, who had lost its host back in the first semester.

          "Do I look that bad?" He asked, keeping his gaze down, checking his front backpack pocket like he was looking for something, and not to avoid her stare.

          She shook her head immediately. "No," for some reason sleep deprived looked good on him. "I think you look great- not like that – not not like that – " He smirked, shaking his head, and she covered her face. "I'm sorry. I meant, your beds made, and I'm taking the guess that you didn't make it this morning already."

          He held his backpack against his crutches, putting them under his arms. "Good eye," he conceded, moving forward, around the bed, to the front door. Giavanna followed, hoping she didn't upset him and ready to apologize for intruding.

          He grabbed a long jacket from the coat stand, but didn't put it on. He passed it back to her, grabbing a second one for himself. "I have trouble sleeping, yeah. I'm fine though, really, nothing to worry about."

          But if he cared enough to remember to give her a jacket, and if he cared enough to offer his clothes, then she would worry.

          They headed down to breakfast together, Giavanna helping him down the stairs with an arm around his waist and his arm around her shoulders. Of course, like the night prior (or really, very early in this morning), as soon as they were on level ground she was off of him and an 1800's era appropriate distance from him.

          At their first step away from the stairs, Xavier paused. "What did you mean, either?"

          Her brows knit. "What?"

          "You said 'you didn't sleep well either'. You didn't sleep well?"

          He remembered that? He was thinking about that? He cared enough to question her about it?

          "Oh, uh, slip of the tongue – "

          "You're still worried, aren't you."

          The accusatory tone accompanied with the pining stare? There was no point in fighting it off.

          This time she walked beside him, keeping slow to stay at his side.

          "It's hard to get it out of my head. I know," without a shadow of a doubt, "that whatever tried to kill me, is going to come back, and here I am, without a single coherent memory. I've got blurry thoughts in my head that when I try to grab on, it's sand that falls to the ground."

          "You've got friends on your side now, though," Xavier responded right away. "Wednesday, I know how she can come off like she wants you to die, but she's just blunt. She's on your side, and that basically means you've got the winning team."

          Giavanna smiled, and this one was just like all the rest. Captivating, beautiful, distracting. The difference? Fake. "It's nice how you speak about your friends."

          He shrugged. "Treat others how you want to be treated."

          Internally she deflated further. A stark contrast to her exterior, which conveyed nothing of the bags of sand that were her emotions.

          It was too taxing to try and keep the conversation going so Giavanna studied the architecture, pretending to admire it, care about it, memorize it. There was nothing of interest in the stone archways, the carvings in doorways, the cobwebs she definitely noticed but made no remark about. They got to the dining hall and as he moved ahead, carefully navigating through the crowd, she swiftly turned around and left. As soon as she was out the doors and out of view, she turned invisible, lips hardly moving for her quick spell.

          Then, despite walking past countless students, she attracted no attention. She was able to make her way outside in the chilly weather, were she wasn't subject to shakes because of the warm jacket she had been given. She found a tree on the grounds, about two hundred yards from the lake, and that's where she sat.

          What wasn't she expecting? To be overwhelmed like that. The fact that someone actually listened to what she said and then questioned her about it? Why would anyone care about if she slept or not? It didn't affect them. And then he had just been so nice, it would be easy to care about him. Too easy. Pietro always warned her about attachments. She couldn't form them. They would only hurt her in the end.

          No. She couldn't do it. They'd only be hurt when she died.

          Her knees came up, her arms wrapped around them, and she stared out, a deep sadness filling her hollow self.

          Even without her memories, she recalled vague concepts. Empty halls. Quiet days. A single set of dinnerware on the table. That felt right. Good. No one would mourn you if there was no one there to mourn.

          She really should just leave now. She was only making it harder on herself by sticking around. But how would she leave? Where would she go? She had no money, no solid memories, no concept of her whereabouts. . .

          Then there was the issue of Wednesday. The girl promised to find her if she ran, and Giavanna didn't doubt her –

          "Not a fan of large crowds?"

          "SHIT!"

          Giavanna flung herself sideways, invisibility spell gone. Her heart pounded as she looked up at Wednesday Addams, and the saying 'speak of the devil' had never been so true.

          The girl was unimpressed, dark lips pressed. "And here I thought you had runaway."

          Not yet.

          "It's good that you stayed. Fighting on familiar ground gives you a leg up, and you'll need the leg."

          Her brows knit.

          "Why is that?"

          "Because, a demon is trying to kill you."

          Wednesday's hands folded behind her back and she turned sideways, facing the lake. Meanwhile Giavanna's heart clenched from a steel fist and she struggled to breathe. From the shock and previous rib issue.

          "I have theories but I need more information – "

          "Why would a demon be trying to kill me?" Giavanna cut in, horrified, and yet knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that it felt true. And that meant the people around her were in even more danger.

          "At first I thought you sold your soul. But I splashed holy water on you – "

          "What?"

          "And you didn't steam. You also wear a cross around your neck, and such a holy symbol would surely burn the damned."

          Giavanna looked down at her neck, couldn't see it because of the jacket, and looked back up.

          "Therefore, somebody else made a deal with a demon and you were the price they paid. Very stereotypical offering up the first born at the age of 16. Enid asked if your middle name was Aurora."

          "Who?"

          "I don't know. Must be some witch." She pivoted on her platform shoes, which added at least two inches to her short figure. "Why the demon is after you right now is less important. What is important is that you didn't summon this demon, and are therefore no longer a suspect."

          "I was a suspect?!"

          "Of course." Why did Giavanna feel ridiculous for not realizing she was a suspect? Because she was the victim here! Why would she be a suspect?!

          Wednesday nodded. "Now comes phase two. Figuring out where your demon is."

          "Okay Fred Jones, what're you gonna do, set a trap?"

          "I don't know who that is." Neither did Giavanna. "But yes, that's the plan. We, are going to set a trap. Now, how good are you at twin potions?"

~

          The only reason Giavanna was going along with this was because she needed to collect supplies. The twin potion had given her an idea, and she cursed herself for not thinking of this sooner; a memory potion. It was so simple!

          Wednesday had class so she left Giavanna in her room for the meantime. That's why she met Enid, and the girl drained her energy bubble even more.

          "Oh my gosh, hi! It's so nice to officially meet you. Unofficially we met last night – well this morning. I was one of the wolves you kinda netted up. But no hard feelings, I totally get we came on strong! I'm just so new to the whole wolfing out thing and when I picked up on Wednesday's scent I was like why is she out here? And so then I came over and then I saw her on the ground and everything just sorta happened but totally no hard feelings!" Enid had mastered the art of speaking without breathing. She had said everything above without pausing a single time. How she did it was by supernatural means, there was no other explanation.

          "Anyway, hi!" She exclaimed, and threw her arms around Giavanna's middle. She squeezed tight, and Giavanna's eyes bulged. Her ribs had never hurt more and her cheeks puffed out to swallow the hacks.

          "I love your name by the way, do you have a nickname? Like Gia? Or Vanna? Ana?"

          Released from the death trap, she coughed, and answered with a red face and watery eyes. "Oh, uh, Pietro calls me Vanna."

          Enid's blue eyes blew open, and they were already bright from the makeup that complimented it, but now? There weren't even that many stars in the sky. "Is that your boyfriend?"

          "Ew, no, my brother – "

          "Awe, I was gonna say we could totally do a double date thing. I really want to go on one but Wednesday's first crush – "

          Wednesday glared.

          "Actually turned out to be this Hyde and now he's in a mental institute. He was totally brain washed so they're trying to work through his issues."

          A memory struck her and she nodded, losing herself to the memory. The next time she spoke, it was slow, mind running to snatch the foggy memory and settling at watching it from a distance. "I've met a Hyde before. My mom got me one as a pet."

          Enid's mouth closed, whatever she was going to say vanished from sight.

          Wednesday fixated on her, watching her every move.

          Giavanna didn't move, eyes not processing anything, mindlessly staring forward. "I was its master. . .she had mental health issues, which lead to the Hyde coming out. She made me sad. I looked at her and I saw myself. . .neither of us had a future. . .I ordered the Hyde to never appear again. The girl returned home. . ." Giavanna smiled, a tear along her waterline. "She forgot about me. She was uh, put in an institution for a little bit, ended up doing good and now she's a 4.0 student in high school."

          Giavanna ended up sitting down on a black sheeted bed. She didn't remember walking, but that's where she ended up. When she finally came to again, blinking away the coldness from the tears that dried on her face, she was all alone.

          Her movements were sluggish. She found a piece of parchment and a sparkly pen on what was clearly Enid's side of the room. She wrote down a list of ingredients and instructions for the twin potion, only she left out the most important component. There was no way in hell she was allowing anyone to take her face. If she died, she died. She didn't need anyone else on her conscience.

          On the backside of the paper, she cast a spell.

          "I don't want anyone to see, make this writing only for me," she whispered, and then she began to write. This was the memory potion, which she wrote down because she didn't trust her own memory at this point.

          After all, she had no recollection of a brother, and yet she had talked about one. This morning she had no recollection of a Hyde, and yet she had one was a pet. And since when had her mother ever gifted her anything before? When had she ever been around long enough to give her anything?

          It was all so confusing. She needed this memory potion, and she needed it as soon as possible. She needed to make it tonight, and tomorrow?

          Tomorrow was when she would leave. As soon as those first classes started, she'd be gone. That would give her a big enough leg ahead where no matter what Wednesday did, she wouldn't be able to catch up.

          All she had to do was get the supplies.

~

          "You wear a lot of black," Giavanna commented, looking at Wednesday's new outfit. New in the sense that it wasn't what she had dressed in that morning.

          Apparently there was an incident with a Bianca girl and lunch.

          "So Vanna, how are we going to get these supplies? I mean, I hardly think we'll be able to find these things with the normies," Enid commented, staring at the list.

          The four of them (Wednesday, Enid, Xavier, Giavanna) were walking towards the perimeter, the point where her wards stopped and the free world started.

          "Portal," Vanna answered. "It's the quickest way to get anywhere, but tricky. A lot can go wrong."

          "Which is why we shouldn't be doing this," Xavier said for the twelfth time. He was adamantly against this, and since no one came to their senses from his mother henning, he of course had to supervise. "Last time you made a portal you fell four stories."

          "What?" Vanna made a face. "I did not – Oh, that's uh, that was how I hit my head. Yeah." She rubbed the back of her bruised, stitched head. Even now she wore sunglasses because outside was too bright for her, even though it was wracked with clouds. "Forgot, sorry."

          "Does it hurt?" Xavier lowered his voice, keeping the question private.

          Warmth itched up her neck, she lowered her hand from her head. "No, I'm fine, really. How's your leg?"

          He grinned. "My leg is fine. You have a habit of avoiding topics about yourself."

          "So yeah, portals – " Xavier rolled his eyes. "are complicated enough with one person. You have to have a clear image in your head otherwise you'll end up anywhere, like the roof of a school you've never been to. And when you're taking multiple people, that's even worse. So, to avoid all of us going to random places, I printed off the store we're headed to. Just look at the picture, and keep looking at it as we go through the portal, and you'll be good."

          "What if we're looking at the store but thinking of someplace else?"

          "Don't."

          "But what if – "

          "In that case, Wednesday will knock you out and drag you through the portal."

          Enid's eyes widened.

          "I really love your makeup by the way. It's so nicely blended."

          That distracted her easily. "Oh my gosh, we should totally have a sleepover night! We'll do face masks and paint each other's nails, and in the morning we can do each other's makeup! It'll be so much fun!"

          The annoying thing was? That did sound like fun. That sounded like something Vanna would love, and that was why she couldn't do it. It was just another way to form attachments and like people and she couldn't do that. She had to keep her distance.

          So she smiled, heart breaking, and laughed. "That honestly does sound really nice. We'll do it in my room so Wednesday doesn't murder us."

          "I broke out into hives the last time she hosted a sleepover in our room."

          "I said I was sorry! I didn't know you were allergic to – "

          At this point, Xavier whispered 'fun' while Enid said 'face masks!'

          Vanna's smile only grew, her chest tightening making it difficult to take a deep breath. She kept silent for the rest of the walk, until they reached the perimeter. The other three continued to talk, which was actually more Xavier and Enid holding a conversation and Wednesday occasionally interjecting.

          They stopped and she gave a quick rundown. "Okay, I'm going to step out of bounds. I'll make the portal, and then you guys come out. You're safer in here so just wait for me to stick my hand through here, okay? You'll have a hard time seeing me once I'm outside."

          She got three nods, and so she stepped through the wards, exposing herself to the world. At this point, she worked quickly, anxiety raging, hairs on her arms raised.

          4% of her concentration deviated when a figure joined her side. She continued to draw into the ground, whispering her spell as she went. Black fog began to seep out, and it spread, curling up, crawling on Vanna's outstretched hand. She stood, and looked to Xavier.

          "You don't listen well, do you?"

          He shrugged. "Thought you might try to run."

          Was she really that obvious? Damn! She had to play it off. She winked at him, gracing him with a cocky grin as she stuck her free hand back through the portal and waved them forward.

          "Without saying goodbye to you? I'd never forgive myself."

          He turned red just as Enid and Wednesday walked through.

          Enid immediately paled. "Is it supposed to look like that? It's so creepy."

          "It's a portal, and my magic typically has a black manifestation. Although I think I had a purple manifestation once – "

          Enid held up a hand, face turning more serious than Vanna would think possible for her. Her nose started to twitch, and she stepped forward, eyelids lowering into focus. Vanna didn't know if it was consciously or not, but her multicolored nails were elongating, stretching into claws that had none of the delicateness they previously had.

          "What is it?" Xavier asked the sniffing Enid, stepping closer to Vanna.

          "I smell something. . .burning?"

          It was like that was a trigger word. The minute it was out, Vanna's skin started to smolder.

          "AH!" She screamed, grabbing onto her forearm where the black fog tightened like a silk scarf attempting to cut off circulation. Not only that, but it increased in temperature too. Steam poured up, off the jacket as it burned through, and when it got to her skin, she cried for real, the pain forcing a larger inhale than she could afford. With her already there breathing issues, she struggled to cope, falling into a coughing fit as she clawed at her arm.

          "What's happening?!" Xavier exclaimed, grabbing for the magic. He cried out, hands sizzling from his quick hold.

          "It's been hijacked! My portal! I can't –  AH!"

          See, that was another thing about portals that made them kinda sucky. They could be jinxed, just like Giavanna's was. Jinxed could mean a number of things, that she could end up in a terrible location, a pocket dimension, she could end up in the wrong point in time; anything. And she knew right now, that this portal was taking her on a first class trip to hell.

          She was yanked down into the fog; only she wasn't alone as a hand had grabbed onto her arm; condemning them with her.

 Taglist:

@sawendel

@toosharkinternet

[alarrytale]

No offense to one of the previous anons that said that Louis’ performance shows a difference in tours but lives don’t compare to the experience of an in person concert lol. It also depends a lot on the venues and how they pick up sound thru a live, even the sound of the crowd effects the sound thru someone’s cell filming. I’ve been to both tours and his voice has actually gotten stronger. He’s also obviously been working on himself. Muscles don’t just all of a sudden pop up one morning, it takes effort. I get that years ago he’s said he doesn’t go to a gym but people change and he’s clearly changed that thought. Probably when he broke his arm because since then you can really tell the difference. If you compare his physique from last tour to this one, there’s a lot more muscle there. Even when he accidentally showed up on stage with no shirt on, you can easily see the difference. It’s clear he’s more comfortable with this since tank tops seem to have become a staple of his wardrobe. Sorry to disagree with the previous anon but as a person who has seen him in person, their take is inaccurate. You just can’t compare a live with the actual thing. He does need to do better with the words to Paradise though. He didn’t play that one when I saw him. Anyway the most important part is the fans that are at the shows have a good time and they have. He’s made a safe space for his fans to be themselves at his tours and that’s truly what matters.

Hi, anon!

You are allowed to disagree! It is different being there in person vs watching through the screen from home. Some people are fortunate enough to go to several shows. But many people in this fandom will never get to experience him live in person, so they make their judgement on what they experience from the livestreams. They are not any less of a fan because of that.

I agree that he does work out. His physique has changed. His skin and hair has changed too. He's aging and his bad habits is taking it's toll on him. That's his choice. The problem is when it's affecting the quality of his shows. Some people will enjoy themselves either way, especially the ones there in person, for others watching at home it might be seen differently.

The fans have made a safe space for themselves at his shows (don't give that credit to louis, he used to do the opposite...). Louis is now joining in with the light (it's not rainbow lights exactly, it's more rbb colours to me). It is important to people, but so is performing his songs (in the right order and knowing the lyrics. It's not just been paradise he's forgotten the lyrics to...). I do agree his vocals have improved massively from his last tour to this, but i haven't watched a show of his for a while, so i can't weigh in on this. He's a singer first and foremost and not an entertainer with other things to distract from the vocals or music. So it's very noticable. The crowd usually help him out, to make it less noticable, but not on paradise because it's not a track casual fans have even heard, so they don't know the lyrics.

[sketchyallicat]

I did a lil sketch of @chamomile-g-tea's sona because why not??? She's so beautiful and so sweet! She may seem scary but, trust me she has a heart of gold (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

lol sorry if her wardrobe is inaccurate ;-;

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

IV ║ Contingent

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

{ << Part 3: Conjecture | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5: Confound >> }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Dieter fucks up, so you put your foot down.

Warnings: Angst (!), fighting, jealousy, possessiveness, drinking, drug use (never done any so apologies for inaccurate descriptions), swearing, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), soft Dieter persists 🥺, yearning, I'm really into his rings (sorry), no use of Y/N

Word count: 6500-ish

'I'm mad at you,' you say, almost relieved to be honest with him.

He turns and presses a wet kiss to your left palm. 'Good. Me too. Make me pay for my sins.'

------------------------------------------------------

Saturday, 3:35 am

This is good shit, Dieter thinks to himself, nose wrinkling from the hit.

He might have said it aloud. He's not entirely sure. There's no one else in the cabin so there are no witnesses.

He takes a gulp of champagne straight from the bottle. It's almost empty, but it's ok, he's halfway to Park City.

No matter how much he drinks though, he can still taste you on his tongue.

Agitated, he picks up his phone. He suddenly realises that he doesn't have your number, or Instagram, or anything.

Fuck. He needs to think about something else.

So he takes a selfie with his bottle of champagne.

He double checks there's no powder on his nose and uploads the story.

------------------------------------------------------

3:41 am

You’ve been drinking copiously since you got to the bar. Tequila. Vodka. Sambuca. Jager. You think it's helping you forget.

But then.

You see Dieter swigging his whiskey across the bar as you dance with the makeup girls.

You feel his hand skimming your waist as Pete shepherds you to the bar for a top up.

You feel the ghost of his beard on your face when Pete pulls you close, swaying to the music.

You need to throw up. You stumble outside into the cold morning, pulling your hair back as your stomach empties itself on the curb.

You cough, throat burning. Your argument with Dieter rings in your ears. He doesn’t know - of course he doesn’t - why you reacted the way you did.

Because he doesn’t know you.

You just want to see his face.

It's a miracle you haven't lost your phone yet considering your state of sobriety (or rather, lack thereof). As you hold it up to unlock it, you see the smear of you still on the screen and your breath catches in your throat at the memory.

You clumsily type his name into Google - more like Diwtwe Beavo - and you find his Instagram profile.

You didn't even realise he was on social media. You greedily click on the glowing pink ring around his profile picture, a low-res selfie of him.

Story uploaded 6m ago.

He's on his private jet, sunglasses on, holding up a bottle of expensive-looking champagne. His hair is as disheveled as your fingers left it hours ago, those lips that whispered filthy words and left burning trails on your skin pouting at the camera.

You put your thumb against the screen so the story never ends.

Not bothering to retrieve your jacket, you order an Uber to go back to your hotel before you start bawling on the curb.

Dieter is still high when he steps off the plane in Utah. It’s cold but it’s ok, he’s got his cocaine jacket on.

He’s high when he checks in to his hotel. The penthouse is nice, but cocaine is nicer.

He’s high at makeup. He snorts a line when they’re waiting for his hair spray to dry.

He’s high at wardrobe. His dresser disapprovingly dusts the white powder off his trousers.

He’s high at the press interviews. It’s easier to answer inane questions about cliffs and beasts and Tiktok dances with cocaine in his system.

On his way back to his hotel room to change for the red carpet, it dawns on him out of nowhere that if you upped and left today, he wouldn't know how or where to find you.

He reaches for more cocaine.

It's Saturday afternoon and you can barely open your eyes with the day-old mascara and dried tears literally gluing your eyelids together.

You reach out blindly for your phone which lies next to you on the bed. You ignore the texts from the makeup girls and Pete on the lockscreen, and you hate the fact that once you unlock the phone, it's Dieter Bravo's Instagram staring back at you - exactly where you left off last night when you finally passed out.

Your finger hovers over the 'Follow' button. No. You won't be caught dead following him. Not that he'll notice with his 2 million followers.

Your phone dies before you can do anything rash. You plug the charger in, then drag yourself out of bed and into the shower.

Dieter’s high on the red carpet. He’s so keyed up he doesn’t even blink at the furious camera flashes behind his sunglasses.

He has a little pick-me-up in between the screening and the live Q&A. For once, he's glad he doesn't have top billing and thus doesn't field any more than a couple of bullshit questions, which he bluffs his way through.

He’s still buzzed when he gets on the car to be chauffeured to the after-party.

He turns to his left and stares at the empty seat next to him.

He’s high when a pretty girl approaches him in the party chalet, two of her equally pretty friends in tow. He entertains their requests for selfies, then offers them some cocaine. They retreat to an empty bedroom.

He gets even more high when the three of them lie on their backs on the king sized bed, tidy white lines nestled between perfect, bouncy tits in lacy push-up bras. Because why the fuck not. He snorts all three one after the other.

He’s high as fuck when the two blondes start giving him head. Too fucking high to see the brunette filming on her phone.

He wishes he was high right now, back on the private jet 24 hours after he landed in Utah, trip cut short, on his way back to LA for a crisis meeting with the studio.

His agent is on his jet with him. Not his regular agent, his OG agent who discovered him twenty two years ago. She officially retired five years ago, but she's still chairman of the agency she founded.

The studio called her directly while he was still partying, the girls having wasted no time in sending the compromising video to TMZ for an undisclosed sum. Rebecca showed up in a white mink coat, her hair and makeup perfect at 4:22am, and practically dragged him out of the chalet by his ear.

‘You’re lucky I was skiing in Utah instead of the Dolomites this year, darling,’ she tuts. ‘We have 6 hours till the story drops.’

Dieter stares out of the window. It’s an ungodly hour - it’s Sunday, he thinks. He hasn’t slept a wink since he got up for work on Friday morning, the cocaine having supplanted his need for rest. For now.

His espresso sits undisturbed by his fingers, drumming restlessly against the table.

He wishes he has your number. Get to you before the news breaks. Explain. Grovel. Beg. Anything.

‘So, who is this time?’

Dieter blinks. ‘What?’

Rebecca puffs on her cigarette, her blue eyes perceptive as always. ‘Every time something like this happens, it's because of a girl.’

He grunts and slumps lower in his chair sullenly. ‘No one.’

She grins, red lipstick and white teeth. ‘Ah, she had the good sense to turn you down, then.'

‘Shut up, mum.’

She laughs.

The thing with Rebecca is that she's good, and never better in a crisis.

The studio bosses were not happy, especially as they've been forced to cancel their Sunday morning golf appointments. But somehow, an hour-long meeting later, they have been convinced that this scandal is actually quite on-brand for the movie. The PR team is confident there's even a chance that it can be spun as a publicity stunt.

The only instruction Dieter has been given is to shut up and keep his head down for the next week or so. They don't trust him to handle anything more, and with the amount of latent drugs passing through his system right now, they're not wrong.

He sighs dramatically once they get back into the car, one hand cradling his temple as Rebecca closes the door behind her. He glances at his watch. There are still 2 hours till the video drops.

'Shall we have some lunch?' asks Rebecca airily, as if she didn't just avert what could have been a career-threatening disaster.

'Not hungry,' he grumbles. Then he clears his throat, and amps up the nonchalance to ask, 'Do you happen to know where the film crew stays at?'

Rebecca squints at her phone, peering at the screen from above the top of her reading glasses. 'In several hotels around town.'

He tries harder. 'Do you have the names of the hotels, at least?'

She doesn't look up. 'You know what darling, I can tell you specifically which one if only you tell me who it is you're looking for.'

He pouts. 'Sneaky shrew.'

She pats his knee affectionately. 'Then you’ll just have to drive around to all nine hotels around town, darling. You better be quick about it too if you want to catch her before the news breaks.'

He glares at her and sinks in his chair in defeat. 'I hate you.'

'I love you too, darling.'

The stupid hangover finally works itself out of your system after lunch on Sunday. You really should accept that you're far too old to be drinking that much anymore. It's pathetic that it's taken 36 hours to recover from a night out.

There's a limo parked out front of your hotel when you pull up in your shitty little second-hand Ford. Strange, but you don't give it much thought. It's LA after all. You've just made a supplies run for some toiletries and a much needed coffee. You plan on going for a jog around the neighbourhood afterwards to make up for lazing in bed all day yesterday.

You're so preoccupied with trying to remember if you've washed your favourite Lululemon sports bra that the sight of him doesn't register until you're right outside your door.

You both spot each other at the same time, and neither of you move. You only remember to breathe when your lungs start protesting for air.

Dieter looks tired, you think to yourself. He's in the same coat that he was wearing when you last saw him, and you can smell stale cigarettes and spilled liquor on him. His sunglasses are clipped to the front of his crumpled shirt. If he tells you he hasn't slept for days, you would believe him.

You break the silence first. 'You look like shit.'

Dieter smirks, but takes your dig without affront. 'Trust me, sweetheart, I feel even worse.'

You cross your arms defensively. 'Why are you here? I thought you were away until Tuesday.'

'I missed you.'

Despite how you left things, it would be so easy to just lean in to him. But you can't. You deadpan, 'Bullshit.'

He clears his throat - no pazaz or fanfare. 'I had emergency business with the studio.'

You really should send him away, but your curiosity gets the better of you. 'Ok, but why are you here? How did you know I'm staying here?'

Dieter runs a hand through his curls. You begrudge him for the fact that he still looks this good when he's a wreck.

He gives you an offhanded shrug. 'I didn't. Drove to nine different hotels. Must have knocked on fifty doors.'

You frown. 'Why?'

He reaches for you, but you duck out of the way, keeping a safe distance between you two. You need it.

Dieter's voice drops, and you have to strain to hear him. 'Sweetheart - listen. I, uh, I fucked up. At Sundance.'

'What are you talking about?'

The buzzing of your phone temporarily distracts you. Then it buzzes again. And again. And again. Relentlessly.

You’re about to look down at the screen but Dieter's voice stops you. 'Wait, sweetheart, before you look at that - I'm sorry.'

His eyes hold yours beseechingly and dread grips your stomach. You key in your passcode and tap on the link has been sent to the group chat by the makeup and costumes girls.

BRAVO, DIETER! OSCAR-WINNING ACTOR FILMED ENJOYING THE COMPANY OF TWO HOTTIES AT SUNDANCE

Scrolling down, a heavily censored video shows the backs of two blonde heads bobbing up and down in an unmistakable motion, while Dieter leans back against an armchair, the same sunglasses firmly on.

Suddenly, there is no air.

You don't feel the paper cup slip out of your hand and hit the floor, latte staining the green carpet. Dieter might have called your name, but you don't hear him.

The video is still on loop, and you stare at it unseeingly.

'When was this?' you ask shakily. You sound weak. You resent yourself for it.

'Last night,' he replies quietly. 'At the after-party.'

You swallow, but your throat remains dry. Your eyes are even drier, so much so they sting. Dieter murmurs your name, quietly, like he doesn't want to startle you, and takes one tentative step towards you.

'Don't,' you say through gritted teeth, your knuckles white. 'Do not.'

He clasps his hands together, brows drawn, the lines on his face set in remorse. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was off my face all fucking day. I don't know how I didn't OD. I started on the cocaine after we fought in the car -'

You sneer, eyes flashing in anger. 'Oh, so it's my fault you got high and got caught on camera getting blown by the sorority sisters?'

Dieter wrings his hands in frustration. 'No! It's not your fault. This is all on me. I fucked up. I'm just trying to explain -'

'Just go, Bravo, I have nothing to say to you.' Your stomach starts rolling again, and you can't look at him any more. You turn to the door, your key card in your hand.

He catches your elbow. 'Please, sweetheart, I'm sorry I'm such an asshole -'

'Why? Why should you be sorry?' you snap at him, whirling around to glare at him. 'Just because we fucked once in the back of your car doesn't mean you owe me anything! I don't care who you fuck or don't fuck!'

Dieter lets the ringing silence linger between you two for a long moment.

You don't expect him to smile at you. It's a wry twist of his lips, and he says almost fondly. 'You little liar.'

The term of endearment throws you off guard. You had the momentum just now, you can't let him turn the tables on you. Anger is your best defence.

'And you're a manwhore,' you spit in his face.

He takes two steps forward. You stubbornly stand your ground, probably to your detriment as he envelopes you with his presence. His voice softens as he traps you with his dark eyes. 'Does it help if I didn’t enjoy it at all, sweetheart?'

The ice under your skin thaws just a bit under his pleading gaze. Get it together, woman.

You scroll a bit further down on your phone for ammunition, which you find in a blurry screencap of the two girls, their busts almost falling out of their too small bras. You hold up the screen to him and smile back sarcastically. 'I don't believe you.'

'Sweetheart, I couldn't even get it up for them,' he confesses, craning his face towards you, soft eyes searching for yours. 'I'd rather look at you all day if you let me.'

'You can't flatter me into submission, Bravo,' you snort. But on the inside, you can't help wanting to believe him.

'Submission?' he frowns at you, perplexed. 'You think I'd want that?'

You lift your chin. 'I wouldn't know.'

Dieter tilts his head to one side, his voice dropping an octave. 'Yes, you do. You know it fucking turns me on when you fight me. You know what that smart mouth does to me.'

You manage to remain motionless when he brings up the back of his index finger to trace the outline of your mouth, but you can't help the crack in your demeanour when you feel the cold kiss of his ring on your lower lip.

This is why you're so careful, you have to be fucking careful. You always get burned, always -

'Ahem.'

Someone breaks the spell, and both your faces swivel towards the voice.

Dieter loses his shit. 'Jesus fucking Christ could you read the damned room for once, Pete!'

Pete stands there with your jacket that you left at the bar. You realise that must be the reason he keeps calling - you have not picked up at all.

His eyes dart between the two of you suspiciously. 'Is there something going on that I should know about?'

You and Dieter speak at the same time.

'No.'

'Yes.'

'Shut up,' you hiss at Dieter.

'Little liar,' he repeats again, in a whisper, so that only you can hear. The intimacy of the words gives you goosebumps.

Pete crosses his arms and prompts you. 'Babe?'

You sigh. If there’s one person who doesn't deserve being lied to, it’s Pete. He's been nothing but sweet to you.

Clearing your throat, you try to meet his gaze as you force the words out. 'It happened... once. Only once.'

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dieter roll his. Ok, technically it both was and was not once. But you have no desire to open that particular can of worms right now.

Pete seems to take your admittance in stride. 'Ok. When did that happen?'

Oh god, you're going to sound like such an ass, but there's no other way to rip the bandaid off. You try not to wince as you reply, 'On Friday night.'

Pete stares at you for a beat. 'Friday night? On my birthday?' You can see the cogs in his head turning. 'So when you were on the phone with me...'

You cringe and rub the back of your neck awkwardly. 'I'm so sorry, Pete.'

What happens next takes you aback, to say the least.

Pete holds up his free hand to you. 'Babe, no way. Dieter Bravo? You absolute legend!'

He waits three seconds, and when you don't take him on his high five, he points at Dieter instead. 'Sorry man, I don't mean to objectify you, but damn.'

Dieter is a pretty self-assured man. You've never seen him anything but cocksure, but he obviously does not know what to make of the situation. He's staring at Pete as if he's sprouted an extra head. That would've been far less weird than whatever this is.

You're not proud of it, but you have to get the fuck out of there. Without warning and in quick succession, you grab your jacket from Pete, swipe the keycard, dash through the door and slam it shut behind you. Your heart races with your back plastered to the surface. You wouldn't be surprised if they could hear your pulse through the door.

Through the flimsy wood, you hear the awkward shuffling of feet, until Pete’s hopeful voice asks, 'You wanna grab a drink?'

You hear Dieter huff, then a disgruntled answer. 'Fine. One drink.'

As their footsteps fade, you let out the breath you’ve been holding in, and head straight for the mini bar. You're going to need far more than one drink.

Five whiskeys later, Dieter's still at the hotel bar with Pete.

He's pretty sure the cocaine's out of his system now. That's ok, he's drunk instead, so he won't be crashing just yet.

He keeps tossing the drinks back so he doesn't have to think about the way your face crumpled when you watched the video. Or how you pushed him away when he reached for you. How you rebuffed his attempts to apologise.

As you should. He deserves no quarter from you.

And yet - you’re angry at him. Anger is good, anger means you’re hurt. In his drug-addled state, he had wanted to hurt you for the sake of it, positively exulted at the prospect of it. Once the high had worn off though, that was another story. But in a roundabout way, he now knows for sure that he’s not alone in this quagmire.

He suddenly slaps a hand on Pete's back and declares, 'You're a decent guy, Peter.'

His beer spills everywhere from the jolt, but he still grins. 'Thanks. You too, man.'

Always so fucking amiable. Dieter tries to hate him for it, but truth to be told, he doesn't even dislike this joker. Maybe he should accept defeat. He knows for a fact that Pete would be better for you.

The ice clinks in his glass as Dieter waves a commanding finger in the younger man’s face. 'You treat her well, you hear me? If you hurt her, I'll kick your damned ass and you'll never work again.'

Pete holds his hand up for Dieter to stop talking. ‘Whoa, whoa - wait a sec, you know we're not dating, right?’ He pauses to sip his beer. ‘To be honest with you, I think she has commitment issues.’

Dieter jumps to your defence on reflex. ‘Shut up Pete, YOU have commitment issues.' At Pete's hands raised in surrender, he pipes down and mumbles into his whiskey, 'Sorry.'

Pete smiles knowingly, but doesn't offer any comment. Instead, he hops off the bar stool, tripping as he goes. 'I really should go, I'm an hour late for a drink with friends.' He holds out his hand. 'Do this another time?

'Fuck off, Pete,' Dieter grumbles, but shakes it.

Pete laughs and claps him on the shoulder. 'See you, Bravo.'

Dieter stares into his whiskey. He should probably go back to his hotel and sleep it off. Make it up to you when he's clear-headed.

But since when does Dieter Bravo do what he should?

He drains his glass, puts way too much change on the bar for his check, and heads straight to the elevator back to your floor.

You lie prostrate on your bed. It feels like groundhog day. You're in the exact same position as you were yesterday, the only difference being you are now freshly drunk instead of hungover.

You hold your phone above your face. You're still staring at that video, unsure what you're trying to get out of it, other than pure self-flagellation.

There are many things you'd like to say to Dieter Bravo. Hurtful things. But you can't, because this is nothing. You made sure of it when you threw his invitation in his face and stormed out of his car.

Did that really happen less than 48 hours ago?

You thought you were being smart. You thought you preempted. You never learn.

Why did he have to come to you? Why did he tell you that he drove to nine different hotels to find you? It would be so much easier to find out about the incident on the internet, cry yourself to sleep, go to work, and pretend nothing has ever happened.

But no. He shows up with his soulful brown eyes. Tells you he didn't enjoy it, couldn't get it up for them. Calls out your bald-faced lie that you don't give a fuck.

Of course you fucking care. In your drunken, pitiful stupor you give yourself permission to admit that you do. It fucking hurts. You've never been good at no-strings anything. More fool you.

And the worst part? Your pathetic little brain is still trying to find a way, any way, to have him for the rest of your time on set. After that, you promise yourself, you don’t have to see him again.

You try the idea out aloud.

'I have rules,' you say sternly to your imaginary Dieter. 'I have ground rules.'

A hiccup runs through your body. No, hiccupping would not do. You have to be assertive. Hiccupping would ruin any illusion of assertion you try to convey.

You sit up and look at yourself in the mirror above the bed.

'I have ground rules,' you rehearse to yourself. 'I don't care what you do in your private time.'

Your watch your expression break in the mirror.

'Shit,' you curse under your breath, your fingers restless. Sometimes you regret giving up smoking.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you grab the nearest miniature bottle and take the last sip of vodka. You've cleared out the mini bar, the empty bottles lined up on the TV cabinet like sitting ducks. Got to go out and buy more wine before the shops close.

You spend what feels like one long minute trying to put your right foot into your left sneaker. Then you hiccup again.

You give up and jam your feet into the hotel slippers. It's acceptable to go out in slippers after - you grab your phone to look at the time - 17:03. Ok, it's earlier than you thought, but it's still fine.

You push yourself up, grabbing your wallet and key card. There's a shop right on the corner, you'll be back before you know it.

You wrench the door open and face plant straight into a very broad chest.

Hands on your upper arms push you back, and you stare blearily into the face of the man you have been trying to not think about for the past few hours.

'I have rules,' you blurt out in a knee-jerk reaction. 'I have ground rules.'

He looks at you, confused. He opens his mouth to speak, but you hear the door knob of the next room jangle. In your panic, you drag Dieter into your room by the lapel of his coat and slam the door shut by shoving him against it.

You’re leaning on him, your fingers still clenched in the fabric of his coat. You smell whiskey on his breath. You guess you’re not the only one who’s been partaking in a bit of drink.

Gentle hands come up to grasp the back of yours. He asks coaxingly, ‘You have rules?’

You gulp. His hands are so big, you can't see even a peep of your skin under his. ‘I - I do.’

‘Good,’ he answers, his gravelly voice reverberates under your palms. ‘I've been told I need a firm hand.’

Your mouth goes dry, but you manage to croak, 'Why are you here again?'

It's not fair the way you wilt under his gaze. He whispers, 'I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really am sorry, sweetheart.'

You clench your jaw and press your lips together.

Plucking your hands off his chest, Dieter nuzzles your right palm and carefully presses one open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin. 'Will you let me make it up to you? Please?'

With no input from your head, your jaw unlocks and your lips part. Fuck. You’re too easy. You both know you’re a goner.

'I'm mad at you,' you say, almost relieved to be honest with him.

He turns and presses a wet kiss to your left palm. 'Good. Me too. Make me pay for my sins.'

Your mouth goes slack. You actually feel your pupils dilating, lust clouding your head.

Dieter spots all the signs, his eyes following every little reaction on your face. 'Tell me how you want me to make it up to you, sweetheart.'

The words stumble out of your lips before your mind catches up. 'Take off your clothes.'

He stares at you like he's never seen you before. His nostrils flare, and the hitch in his breathing only fuels your craving for him.

'Go sit on the bed, sweetheart,' he rasps.

You walk backwards - slowly - as your head is in overdrive, and he follows you, toe to toe. He shrugs off his coat first, which lands in a heap on the carpet. The buttons on his shirt look tiny under his fingers, the disks sliding out one after the other, until it hangs open, exposing tanned skin underneath.

The back of your knees hits the bed and you fall onto your bottom clumsily, bouncing gently on the mattress.

With a roll of his broad shoulders, the shirt eases off. Your eyes run greedily over his bare chest and the triangular tattoos on his arms that you've only glimpsed under pushed up sleeves but never seen in full before.

He toes off his shoes and his socks. You mirror him, kicking off your fluffy white hotel slippers to fold your legs underneath you.

There's a clink when his ringed fingers brush against his belt buckle. You watch him take the belt off, pulling it clean from the loops of his jeans, arm flexing as he drops it casually onto the floor. His fingers hover over the front of his trousers, his lips curving into a cocky smirk.

'How am I doing, sweetheart?'

'Shut up and get on with it, Bravo,' you shoot back, and his smirk only deepens. You shuffle backwards until you're leaning against the headboard, your eyes trained on him.

The button on his jeans pops open, and your stare follows as he tugs the zipper south. Your tongue darts out when you catch sight of his erection straining against the open front of the denim.

He saunters towards the head of the bed, shoving his pants down and stepping out of them on the way. He leaves his boxers on, the tent painfully obvious.

He starts to reach for his rings with his right hand, and before you know it, you've reached out to grab his wrist. You can't believe how husky you sound, even to your own ears. 'Leave the rings on.'

Dieter's eyes are now obsidian and he's breathing through his mouth. 'Yes, ma’am.'

He crawls onto the bed, caging you between his arms as he hovers over you. No part of him is touching you, and you know it's deliberate. You squirm under his gaze, still fully dressed, heat creeping up your neck.

'How about you tell me the rules while I make it up to you, sweetheart?'

Your whole body jerks. You should be embarrassed by how obvious you are, but you're far beyond caring at this point. You make up for it with bossiness. 'What are you waiting for, then?'

Rough fingers slide under your sweater and Dieter anchors you to the mattress with his hips, his erection now pressing against your thigh. He rips the top off you, only for you to yelp when the neck of the sweater catches on your nose.

‘Oh shit,’ he chuckles and gently untangles the fabric from your face. When you're free, he smiles down at you, thumb gentle on your cheek. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’

This brief moment of levity doesn’t last when he buries his nose right between your breasts, taking a deep inhale.

Your back arches off the bed of its own accord, and Dieter takes the chance to unclasp your bra, throwing it behind him with a flick of his wrist.

'Sweetheart,' he moans, staring unabashedly at your bare front for the first time. Your tits fill his palms as he presses them together, and needy sounds catch in your throat when he squeezes.

His rings bite into yielding flesh. Thumbs roll over the tips of your breasts as he stares down at you in both self-satisfaction and veneration.

Wetness engulfs your right breast as he guides your nipple into his mouth. Against your skin, he asks, 'Don't you have some rules for me, sweetheart?'

You whine, unable to form words, and you feel him smile into your chest.

'Come on, baby, you can do it,' he encourages you, hands sliding down to unzip your jeans. He leans back on his haunches and pulls them off with such force that you slide off and down the pillows. His palms skate over your exposed legs, before hooking his fingers in your panties and easing them off, leaving you completely naked under him.

You grip his shoulders as he reaches down to tug your knees up to his hips, so that you're cradling him between your legs, his erection grinding into you. He scrapes the side of your neck with his teeth before whispering into your ear, 'I promise my mouth would be too busy to talk back.'

'Fuck,' you bite out as he suddenly grasps you by the top of your thighs and hikes you up the bed so that his face is between your splayed legs. You feel his breath fan over your pussy.

Dieter pins you with a heated stare. ‘Ready when you are, sweetheart.’

'This - this stays on set,' you barely manage to stammer in a voice much quieter than your normal tone, hardly a confident start. A gasp is ripped from your lips when he runs his tongue right over your clit. He then circles back and licks you in firm, wet strokes. 'It's - it’s over when filming wraps.'

From between the valley of your thighs, you see his brow crease in a frown and feel his nails dig into your skin. But he goes on suckling on your clit without verbal complaint, and you are quickly a writhing mess under him. Your pussy is getting soppy from his spit and your own arousal.

Dieter suddenly gives you a sharp slap on your backside when you make no indication to carry on speaking. You're almost ashamed at the wanton moan that unleashes.

Taking the cue, you continue breathlessly. 'No feelings allowed. No strings.'

He literally growls into your cunt, and laves at you harder, punishingly. You fingers tangle into his curls and you pull him closer - it feels as good as you remember it.

'No - no sleepovers allowed,' you pant. You feel Dieter's index and middle fingers spreading your folds even wider as he licks between them. He sucks on your clit so exquisitely that your spine arcs in an impossible angle. Your cunt feels so empty though, and your hips shift restlessly, wanting his fingers inside you.

'Is that all?' he slurs against your pussy.

Your final decree is, 'It stays a secret. Nobody can know.'

He makes sure you have eyes on him, and he nods. 'Ok, sweetheart.'

Then pushes his tongue into your entrance.

'Jesus Christ,' you choke out, throwing your head back into the pillows.

He fucks you with his tongue, but it's not enough. 'Dieter, please,' you plead, dragging your nails against his scalp to get his attention until he draws back.

His entire chin is glossy with you, he swipes at it with the back of his hand, and orders, 'I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers while I eat your pretty little pussy. Can you do that for me?'

You nod, and drawing your knee back against your chest, you reach down without hesitation and sink two fingers into yourself, right under his nose.

'That's it, sweetheart, so fucking pretty,' he moans. 'Now keep that up.'

He dives back into your folds, both hands coming up to cup your heaving tits, teasing your nipples. You twist and and turn under him and make increasingly incoherent sounds in your throat, barely having the presence of mind to keep a steady rhythm with your fingers.

'Just a little bit more,' you beg, desperately grinding onto his tongue, chasing that tingling feeling deep inside you. 'I'm almost there, I'm going to, fuck -'

Your whole body seizes up, and when his calloused fingertips graze over your nipples, you cum hard, chanting his name over and over again, shoving your fingers as far up into yourself as you can go.

With a final, gentle kiss, Dieter draws back and hums against your breasts, rubbing his still damp beard into you, painting you with your own scent. Gently, he pulls your fingers out of your pussy, and you groan when he pushes your fingers between your lips, studying you with dark eyes as he makes you lick yourself clean.

You're still recovering when he springs it on you. 'You ready for my rules, sweetheart?'

Your mind is woolen as you splutter. 'Your - your rules?'

Dieter drags himself up your body, until you feel his still clothed and still hard cock rest against your stomach. He smiles at you teasingly. 'You didn't think you'd be the only one calling the shots, did you? Isn't that against the rules of feminism or something?’

You want to avoid his eyes, but he's too close and you don't have anywhere else to look. You huff, too drunk on both alcohol and your orgasm to argue. 'Fine.'

Dieter abruptly pushes his upper torso off the bed to grab at something on the floor, and he re-emerges with his phone in his hands, grunting as if that took great effort. He unlocks his phone and pushes it into your hand.

'First, I want your number,' he announces. 'And I'm allowed to call you anytime I want.'

You can't help it when your lips quirk into a smile, a silly warmth blooming in your chest at his unexpected request. You quip high-handedly, 'You can call me anytime, but I probably won't pick up.'

'We'll see about that,' he retorts smugly.

You sigh loudly, more for show than actual annoyance, and hands him back the phone after punching in your number. You warn him, 'You can't save it under my real name.'

Dieter pretends to think really hard. 'How about I save your number as Pete?' A giggle escapes you, and he grins at the sound, tapping on the keypad. 'Ok then, you're P-E-T-E.'

Tossing his phone to one side, Dieter gently grips your chin between his thumb and index finger. His nose brushes yours sweetly. 'Second rule, I'm allowed to kiss you anytime I want.'

'Ha. We'll see about tha-' you echo his words back at him, but you don't get to the end of your sentence before he presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. You breathe out through your nose, eyes fluttering close.

You didn't expect Dieter Bravo to kiss like this.

When he pulls back, his expression is subdued, and his voice loses its playful edge. One large hand grasps yours, his fingers sliding between the gaps. You hold your breath despite yourself.

'The last rule is for me,' he says. 'I'm not gonna fuck around while we're on set. I know I've fucked up, so I understand if you don't believe me.'

You’re painfully, slowly doing the maths in your head. You say out loud, 'So it will be a secret, no-strings, two-month long booty call in which you're not allowed to fuck other people but I am, and we're also not allowed to have feelings for each other.'

Dieter's head bobs side to side as he ponders your analysis, and then he shrugs with a lopsided smile. 'Sounds about right.'

What could possibly go wrong? Every fucking possible dimension of this arrangement. With 100% certainty.

But what the hell.

You arch an eyebrow at him. 'Seal the deal with sex?'

Dieter chuckles and shakes his head. 'Sweetheart, I haven't slept for three days, do you want me to die from a heart attack before we even get started? Besides,' he pauses to give you a hard kiss, his tongue teasing your bottom lip. 'I'm not done atoning yet.'

He rolls over to prop you up on your side. Brushing your hair out of the way, he mouths wet kisses down the back of your neck. You shudder as one strong arm wraps around your waist, and the other hand closes around your breast in a caress.

'Rumour has it that you like my rings,' he murmurs into your ear. If you weren't so turned on you'd have the decency to be ashamed.

He brings up his left hand so you can watch him spin the white gold band around, the black stone set atop the ring now resting on the inside on his index finger.

Your mouth falls open in an O as the cool gemstone draws a path down your front before disappearing between your thighs, and Dieter brushes it teasingly against your clit.

He gives you a filthy grin. 'Let's see if I can get you off on it.'

{ << Part 3: Conjecture | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5: Confound >> }

Note: 1 month, 4 parts and 18.4k words after I first posted Consent, it is time for me to take a break! I have never written this quickly in my life and ngl I'm a bit tired and can really use this time off 😴

BUT good news is that I've decided to add one more part to the series before wrapping, meaning there will be 2 more chapters to come. I will be drafting the next part (slowly) in the coming weeks, and I plan on sending everyone who reblogs or leaves a comment a sneak preview at some point to keep myself on track. If you would rather not receive the sneak peek, please let me know, otherwise I'll be presumptuous and send it to you lol (sorry) 💁🏻‍♀️

THANK YOU again to everyone who have left a comment or sent me a message or reblogged, it means the world to me that you would take the time to let me know what you think of my writing. If you haven't yet, don't be shy, I would love to hear from you!

Ta for now! I will be replying to comments and reblogs, but will be taking my time and scheduling my posts accordingly, so thank you for your patience. I will hopefully be able to catch up on some reading as well so there will be reblogs of my reading list. See you in a few weeks my lovelies! 💚

[enchantingruinscandy]

Jon Kent draws a picture of the batfam and gives it to Damian as a gift. The drawing is quite terrible and inaccurate, but Damian loves it and refuses to admit it. Instead of telling Jon how bad the drawing is (because Dami appreciates the sentiment and knows Jon worked really hard on it) he tells his family how they need to change so that Jon's picture will be accurate

Damian walks into the library in the manor

Damian: Todd you need to be taller. And maybe tone up a bit?

Jason: *reading* I'm sorry, what?

Damian: *ignoring Jason* And Drake you need some coffee or something. This clearly depicts you with a coffee mug in hand

Tim: *half asleep on a bookshelf* Wha-? Why? Dami, I don't even like coffee

Damian: *turns and leaves without an explanation*

-------------

Damian enters the study

Damian: Father you need to scowl more. Also, your wardrobe could do with more dark colors

Bruce: *is wearing a Henry Spencer type shirt* Damian what-

Damian: *looking between Dick and the drawing* Richard, you are adequate

Dick: *is confused*

Damian: *leaves*

-------------

Damian enters the kitchen

Damian: *sees Stephanie, Cass, and Duke being chaotic* *squints at the drawing* These will be promptly filed under "lost cause" *leaves*

Duke: What just happened?

[4dtk]

hii <88 ummm this is not from your prompt list but this suddenly come in my mind , can you made one like for chubby reader since i'm a little but chubby , angst and fluff , jaemin or jeno , like they said something mean and suddenly realize likeeeee ykwim rightt ? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

hope this is okay anon! i am not plus-sized and will not even come close to experiencing what you may have gone through, so i apologise if anything in here is inaccurate. please tell me so i can change it asap! thank you

this is a safe space, don't hesitate to speak out if you need to rant or anything. please remember - you're all beautiful inside and out!!!!!!!!!! dont let anyone dull ur shine!!!!!

warnings: jaemin gives a backhanded compliment, insecurity

with the last click of the camera, you're welcoming more of the camera rather than your boyfriend into your hands, excited to see the product of your outfit today. it was a lucky draw, one that you didn't expect to match but did on a random scour through your wardrobe.

getting ready for the small photoshoot was fun as well, the boys helping you to set up the living room where they cheered you on. your boyfriend was the one to take the photos, skilled at the camera more than anyone in the team.

"just like that, (y/n)!"

"you look good!"

compliments were easily dropped as they all struggled to view the small screen of the camera, where jaemin worked his magic.

"they look great, jaem, thank you! now all we gotta do is... export them..." your smile was still plastered on your face as you remove the SD card, laptop at the ready beside you. by now, the others have scattered off to do their own thing after a high five or a pat to your head, but you don't exactly mind when this was their off-day.

"that outfit looks really good on you, honey," jaemin speaks from over your shoulder where you sat, looking over how the soft light falls over your skin in the pictures, a perfect visit from the setting sun at the right time.

"you think so?" you laugh, looking down at it, "it was honestly a random fit that i put together. a lucky find, if you will."

"yeah, i think if i wore it, everything would just look weird," jaemin laughs, planting a kiss on your forehead.

your eyebrows furrow at that, having heard it one too many times. your parents have brought it up; your friends, in a joke; even total strangers, who thought it was an actual compliment.

"what do you mean by that?"

"hm? oh no- just- you see how these patterns fill up so nicely on your arm? it would crease all over if i wore it. i'd probably just ruin the outfit." jaemin explains with a laugh, unsure of the strain in your voice. he realises his mistake a little too late a second later.

you're not one to rush uploads, but now you wished the photos would transfer faster so you could leave the room as soon as possible. it wasn't an option, though.

"so... d'ya mean my body's only good for filling in the creases in clothes? does it look worse in outfits that isn't this one?" your questions comes out quiet, not wanting the other members to catch on, but your boyfriend is already fumbling with his words that catches the attention of the others.

"no! no- that's not what i meant, love. i was talking about- just how-"

the crestfallen look you give to jaemin breaks his heart and he regrets everything after his initial compliment, hesitation showing in the way he lets you go to his room quietly. it's affected you that you don't even bother taking the laptop, grabbing only your phone to pass the time on.

hours pass and your outfit sticks to your skin uncomfortably, not even bothering to change out of the one thing you thought you could feel confident in. you're not sure whether you should cry, or scream, or stare aimlessly, having heard backhanded compliments like those all the time.

you're outfit's so cute, i could never wear that!

oh, that black suit looks stunning on you! it's great, since i heard it's a slimming colour.

you're so pretty for a plus sized person.

additions, unnecessary words always had to make their way out of people's mouths. why couldn't they just stop at pretty, stunning, cute? why couldn't they stop at one compliment without compensating for something else?

you learned it the hard way, through media and society that everyone is conditioned to equate fatness to being ugly, and you hate, hate it so much that you're so quick to talk yourself down when you see a cute outfit on a slimmer person.

because you know the tables would be switched once you're the one to wear it.

with a sigh, you peel off the outfit that you admired in the mirror a few hours ago, that you gently pat down next to the locket that jaemin gifted you. it was a nice touch - a heart next to your heart patterned top. it was next to the heart you wore on your sleeve too, not nervous once when you dropped your feelings to jaemin.

and with a tight hug, he returned your feelings too, already smelling like how you knew he'd smell like: coffee and vanilla.

a knock drives you out of the faint memory, door pried open gently by the man who'd captured your heart. he lingers at the doorway, clearly uncomfortable.

"look- i-" he gulps, "it was wrong. of me. to say that. i took it too far, and- and i should've just stopped after my first words. i just went on and on with phrases that were just worded so... badly that-"

"y'know, jaemin, you say 'just' a lot when you're nervous," you chuckle, fingers lingering on the belt of your pants. you remove them with ease with a shake to your legs, chucking them across the room as you navigate his place, picking out the sweater and pants you wore before.

standing there in your undergarments, it wasn't anything that jaemin hasn't seen before, but he never wanted something more than what you had now:

a body in its natural form, not covered by clothes. it had all the blemishes and all the imperfections, but it only reinforces jaemin's love for you; when he chose to love you, he chose to love all of you.

jaemin sighs, immediately engulfing you in an embrace that leaves you surprised.

"i'm so sorry. that was so shitty of me."

"thanks for apologising, jaemin. i'm glad you realised your mistake, but, i have to say... it wasn't that bad of a backhanded compliment. i think i've heard worse."

your lover pulls back questionably, "crap, really? i'm sorry they said those things."

jaemin's frown is endearing while he feels all the feelings, soaking in the way your expression turns solemn. you shake your head. "don't be sorry, you weren't the one who said those things."

"but still-"

"i think maybe it hurt more, because it came from you." shrugging, you pat his cheek which brings on a tiny smile. with a peck to the crown of your head, he lays his forehead to yours, cradling all of you into his arms. "i'll do better."

smiling, you lay one on his lips. "i know you will."

[not-using-this1]

~Denim Jacket~

Kelly Foster x Mee!fem!reader

Benjamins sister Y/n stays over at the house/zoo for a few weeks, after she experiences a break up with her ex and she hasn’t got anywhere to stay, so he allows her to stay and work there since she has some experience looking after wildlife. Kelly and Y/n throughout the first two weeks became closer. Y/n finally getting the confidence to ask her out?!

Prompt: ‘Is that my denim jacket?’

Disclaimer: I literally don’t know much about the management of zoo’ so if this is inaccurate I apologise :) I did volunteer at a zoo once though so I know some things!

Reader is 23 (Kelly is 28 so...)

Warnings: none

“Y/n!” Your brother Benjamin practically yelled from downstairs of the house. You were currently fumbling through your wardrobe trying to find this specific jacket that would go with your outfit, which as usual was just a tank top and some skinny jeans and combat boots, considering your helping Ben with the zoo.

You had given up on trying to find the denim jacket you’d usually wear. Running downstairs to greet your brother “sorry, I was trying to find my denim jacket. So what duty am I on today?” You asked him, just wanting to get to work...but mostly hoping to see one particular person as per usual. “Well Y/n, you’re on Zebra duty today with Kelly” Ben smirked at you knowing full well that you liked her, he could tell by the way you smiled.

It was rather unsual to not see Dylan or Rosie but they had just started going back to school, of course you saw Lily though since she lived here and was also home-schooled. Grabbing an apple you were about to walk out the kitchen towards the front door. “You should ask her out!” You rolled your eyes at your brothers comment.

Walking over to the Zebra enclosure you had already greeted the others with just a simple wave or nod. It was always busy here considering there’s so much to do and so many animals to take care of but even small greets like that just brightened everyone’s day.

“Hey Y/n” her familair voice made you smile when you spotted the blonde, you spotted some feeding buckets beside her “Hey, you didn’t start without me did you?” You chuckled. Kelly smiled at you, and then it hit you; she was wearing a denim jacket that looked exactly like yours. If it was yours you don’t remember giving it to her at all. 

“Kelly, is THAT my denim jacket?” You asked her curiously. She chuckled at your question, raising an eyebrow “maybe it is”. She gestured you to follow her to the room where they keep the food. The zebra’ already had their alfalfa hay all that was left was their feed for the morning. 

So thats why you couldn’t find youe jacket, you wanted to ask her since when did she start randomly stealing your clothes but she just looked so adorable. Walking into the feed room, she placed the four buckets on a table and went to grab the vitamin pellets. “Hey, are you okay?” Kelly asked, you must have spaced out for a good few seconds but you weren’t exactly aware. 

You sighed, her hand gently placed on your arm “y-yeah I’m fine, but can I ask when did you start stealing my jackets?”

“Don’t you remember? That one night, it was pouring it down and you offered me your jacket. I’m pretty sure we had a bit too much to drink though” Kelly chuckled, she gave you another one of her smiles that always seem to light up every room shes in. 

It took you a good minute to at least try and remember but you nodded your head in agreement. This woman sure knows how to make your life a lot more fun and it just makes you smile. You had to ask her out, and it had to be done right now but the problem was you didn’t know if she liked you back or not. 

Grabbing her hand from your arm, she looked at you raising an eyebrow but she squeezed your hand and let you hold hers “Kell, I really like you. I don’t care if it’s too sudden and it’s only been three weeks since that horrible break-up with my ex but I just-”

You had stopped yourself from rambling on or rather Kelly had, pressing a kiss to your cheek she pulled away with a smirk plastered on her face “your cute, I like you too, so ask me.”

“You like me back? I thought- right enough rambling, would you go on a date with me?” you asked her purely out of nervousness. You wanted to seem confident but at least you knew she likes you. 

“You know I would, now lets get these feeds done”.

Maybe I’ll do a part two?!

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #47 The Trial

AN: I'm sorry if the trial part sounds inaccurate, I have no idea how trials work, I haven't been part of one since my parent's custody battle like 28 years ago.

Penny was working on a late night project when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to find Becca Dawn standing there in her townie clothes. "You're here" she cried, "come in, is there anything I can get you?" Becca opened her mouth to say she just wanted to lie down but as the stepped inside her vision tunneled and she collapsed. Penny turned round and tried to catch her but she fell forward the hit the ground.

"What is going on?" Penny asked as Becca Dawn regained consciousness. She confided to her sister that she might be pregnant and listed her symptoms, her stomach often felt like it was full of lava, and occasionally she vomited small amounts of blood. She was confused because her cycle hadn't even had a chance to be late. "That doesn't really sound like morning sickness to me. I'm making you a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. We're getting to the bottom of this."

Becca Dawn's first visit to a real doctor was daunting but went well overall. He ordered bloodwork and didn't make her take off her clothes like Royce said townie doctors did. "Well you aren't pregnant." He said coming back into the room with the results. He asked her questions about her diet and lifestyle. Becca Dawn tried to be honest without giving away that she was a child bride. He eventually came to the conclusion that she was suffering from an ulcer induced by stress and poor nutrition. He prescribed some medication to coat her stomach lining so she could heal. Penny cooked her healthy meals to ease her stomach. With time and a proper diet, Becca began to recover.

Though her physical trauma healed she still bore psychic scars from her life in a cult. Penny tried to take her younger sister shopping for a new wardrobe several times but she kept retreating into the comfort of her prairie dresses. She did allow her sister to give her a haircut though. Penny did her best to support Becca Dawn, her own experience with deprogramming had been muddied by substance abuse and she had no intention of exposing her baby sister to the dark side of mainstream society.

Becca Dawn wanted to adjust slowly, starting by reading banned books, going on the internet and watching television. Penny even went back to her natural hair colour in solidarity with her sister. Penny wondered if she would have a better time adjusting if she made some friends so she introduced Becca Dawn to Yuki Behr, Candy's little sister. They got on well which brought Penny some hope.

Meanwhile, Royce's trial began and progressed quickly. The prosecution was doing their best to keep him from being released. They knew he'd disappear the second he had the chance. He spoke to Rachel as often as allowed and urged her to invite the faithful to attend his trial; as long as they were adults, of course. He wanted his people to witness a miracle: not only would he be found not guilty but Lord would change the jury's hearts and they would see fit to strike down the law making polygamy illegal. Even Rachel had trouble buying into this claim but she put on her best face as she spun the story for the elders.

Greyson Caliente presented his case, he was supported by decades worth of paperwork and witnesses showing that the FCSU owned businesses dodged taxes, denied wages to employees and forced minors to work long hours in the hot sun with no water. Royce, representing himself, argued that the employees "donated" their time and money back into the church and produced several affidavits from FCSU men to support this. He claimed that churches are exempt from paying taxes, including businesses owned by the church.

The jury went into deliberations. Only taking one day to think about it. When they returned for the final verdict Royce, Elden and many of their sons and brothers were sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for the Prophet's predictions to come true. This is the moment of vindication. This verdict would change everything. Everyone watched the jury file back into the courtroom. "We the jury find the defendant, Royce Leroy Culton guilty on the charge of tax evasion." They also found him guilty of wage theft and profiting off child labour. The FCSU men in the audience broke down in tears wailing "Uncle Royce!" This wasn't supposed to happen.

Royce was sentenced to five years in prison and the Fundamental Church of Spiritual Unity must pay 3 million dollars in back taxes. Royce was led away back to prison and this followers slunk out of the courthouse back to their trucks. Isaac sat in the back row, trembling from head to toe. He was tearing down his family's empire brick by brick. He drove home plagued by guilt. Teresa greeted him at the door, she could read his face like a book. They betrayed you, not vice versa. What you're doing is making life better for the low ranking members. Remember how much control they exerted. That's what you're fighting." He hugged her and felt so incredibly grateful for his wife and soul mate.

Royce paced furiously around his cell. Clearly there were infiltrators in his flock, damaging his peoples' faith. He begged the Lord to show him the faces of his enemies so he could remove them. He awoke the next morning with a group of ten men he felt were the greatest threats to his power. And two women he just didn't like. He came up with some additional rules for the faithful; further restrictions on food (no meat, no spices, no added sugar) mandatory prayer sessions to set him free three times daily, no physical contact between male and female siblings (apart from girls caring for their baby and toddler brothers) He packaged up the letter, along with the list and sent it to Rachel. Then he sat back in his cell to stew.

[hecohansen31]

Maybe In The Next Lifetime

Reincarnated! Ivar The Boneless+Reincarnated! Reader (Modern AU)

(Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I am sorry it took me so long but this is a small reward to @youbloodymadgenius​,who bought me a Ko-Fi, a bit of time ago and I just am so so grateful for this small gesture because it shows that you truly care about us, writers.

It truly means the absolute world to me and I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to properly express my gratitude through words, but I do hope that you’ll like this (you gave me the green light for everything that came up to my mind, so since i saw that you all liked the first part, here comes the second).

If you want more, please do let me know through a comment or a reblog (PLEASE DON’T FUCKING REBLOG WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING... IT’S FUCKING STUPID).

Do leave some feedback if you want to: it makes us, writers, write faster and our hearts beat stronger.

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Visions have accompanied your staying in Iceland, tainting your experience and making you meet the literal 'man of your dreams', but is this a crazed fever dream or is this the truth?

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Reincarnation Cycle, Menton of Violence and Blood, Inaccurate Portrayal of Iceland.

You changed your outfit for the umpteenth time, wondering if there was anything that would ever fit the theme of Midsomar, allowing you to show off your body, in a way that was flattering and proper.

Your friend, Hedda, had already chosen an outfit and was waiting outside of your shared bedroom at the small apartment you had rented for your staying in Iceland, singing out loud some Swedish song and refusing to give you any help with dressing up.

‘You need to find your inner “Midsomar” ‘ she had muttered after you had gotten out of your wardrobe in a bland floral dress ‘… but also you gotta impress that idiotic guy, you met, so… get out your best Maja’.

‘I don’t think that being a crazy witch in a cult will win me many points with any boy’ you had shot back, eventually completely ignoring her suggestions, trying on at first a few other dresses, and eventually settling up on an oversized white shirt in a pair of your best shorts.

The flower crown you had bought in a Chinese shop, already awaiting you in bed, and as you pushed it onto your head, the vision reappeared.

You had been having visions since the start of your staying in Iceland.

At first you had though they were simply strange dreams, created by your first holiday without your parents and far away from home.

They were different visions of different beautiful girls in clothes from different historical ages, but they all had one thing in common.

Your face.

And then when you had at first noticed Ivar, his own face had haunted your dreams.

As a king, as a slave, as a commander, in a haunt that reversed the roles.

Sometimes you’d be the prey and sometimes he’d be the hunter, and sometimes the opposite would happen.

In the mirror various figures shifted: a meek girl with a flower crown like yours, a well-dressed woman, her face hidden by a thick veil and the heavy crown on her head, again appearing in a more frail way on a woman with a spoiled smirk and expecting eyes.

But you knew that deep down they were all you.

And you were desperately trying to understand what this all truly meant.

You had eventually settled on browsing through some rather confusing pages about the interpretation of dreams, settling yourself up in the ‘reincarnation aisle’ discovering that many in forums thought that in dreams, they could see their past lives.

Or so they believed.

But in most cases, it was boring details that could be easily overlooked and most of the time they were interpreted by clairvoyants that wanted nothing more than to make their daily earn.

And you couldn’t blame them.

But your situation wasn’t a hoax.

Because there was so much confusion in your heart and mind.

And you knew it was a downright wrong thing to follow Ivar around, just because he was the literal ‘man of your dreams’.

And you knew that you would have probably ended up sounding as a crazed hysterical woman, had you confessed him that you had been dreaming about him for your entire staying in Iceland, seeing him in various outfits.

But one thing never changed also for him.

He had loved you and he had lost you.

Never the other way around.

Which you found lightly discriminatory and sexist…

… but Fate didn’t welcome any complaints, did He?

You wished you could talk about it with someone, but not only you didn’t know that well the few friends you had done around the hotel and in the city.

But also… who would have believed you?

And who wouldn’t have wanted to intern you in the nearest psych-ward, after hearing about your crazy dreams?

But this secret was burning you on the inside, completely ruining your holiday there, because you weren’t able, not only to sleep properly, but the knowledge of some previous past life was shaking your beliefs to the core.

And not in a good way.

You almost doubted the reality around you.

And more than one time you had found yourself pinching your arms in search of some signs that you hadn’t simply dreamt also this life.

“… are you fucking finished?” muttered loudly Hedda, startling and effectively reminding you that you were indeed in 2019, getting yourself ready for a Midsomar ‘date’ (because Ivar certainly hadn’t meant it that way, when you had basically invited yourself in it).

“Yeah yeah!” you shot back, slightly annoyed at her antics but eventually settling up on adjusting the flower crown on your head, as you grabbed your clutch, stuffing an extra charger for your phone and headphones in it.

And then appeared in the hallway of your room, for Hedda’s inspection, who told you to turn around, meanwhile she examined attentively your outfit, eventually holding up eight fingers, which was enough to make it pass.

��… cute but have we forgotten the “sexy factor”?’ commented Hedda, as you were already grabbing a jeans jacket in case it ended up being colder.

You had agreed with Ivar on meeting each other for lunch and then move to a little place where a small folklore festival was to be held.

And had you had a bit of energy, you would join your friends for the night to a ‘Midsomar’ themed party, for which you weren’t too eager, but your friends had already seemed offended by the fact that you wouldn’t have passed the day with them, partying and drinking.

But you wanted the true Icelandic experience.

That was why you had moved there.

And honestly partying and drinking could be done everywhere.

Instead what Ivar had told you that he had planned that day was much more typical of the place and not something that you’d have found everywhere.

And having more time to spend with the ‘man of your dreams’ was definitely a bonus.

Hedda, who, although seemed extremely superficial, had assumed an extremely motherly and protective role over you, had wanted to accompany you, although she had used the excuse that:

‘Booze doesn’t affect me that much, anymore’ she had then winked your way ‘… and didn’t you say that Ivar has a cute brother?’.

You had barely seen Ivar’s brother, but you had felt like you had to give something to Hedda for ‘sacrificing’ herself for you.

Meanwhile you were getting out of your small apartment, making sure to lock after yourself, since Hedda always forgot, you received a message from Ivar, letting you know that they had just arrived to his uncle’s barn, sending you his location and reassuring you to take your time, since they had arrived early to help with the preparations.

You had thanked him, meanwhile you were thoroughly panicking because you didn’t want to arrive late, but to dissuade the uncomfortableness of the entire situation, you asked him ‘whether his brother was hot or not’.

Which you realized a minute after locking the door didn’t sound quite alright.

Shit.

You hoped that at least in one of the previous lives you hadn’t been this awkward.

‘.. for a friend’ you added, hoping he didn’t think you wanted to flirt with his brother.

Because you didn’t want to, for sure.

Although Destiny had indeed pushed you closer, you couldn’t deny that you had found yourself comfortable with Ivar in a way that hadn’t happened in so much with the few guys you had tried out a date with.

And it truly made you feel like this was real.

Like that was your reality.

He was clearly much shier than you were used to, but this didn’t mean that he hadn’t a sarcastically cocky side that had brought you to tears with laughter and judgement.

And it made you feel comfortable and at ease.

As if only with him you could be the true you.

And not the long line of previous reincarnations you had been.

‘… my brother does consider himself hot’ he sent you ‘… hot if you like brainless dudes who will do nothing but eat and drink’.

‘That’s Hedda’s perfect type’ you sent back, careful to avoid breaking your neck on the stairs, Hedda thankfully coming to your side to guide you meanwhile you messaged.

“I do hope that he is worth it” commented your friend, trying to sneak a small look at your conversation “… because those shoes certainly aren’t made for texting and walking”.

“His brother is hot” you were simply able to reply in the general confusion.

“Did you ask him?” shot back Hedda, facepalming as she completely stopped you from slamming your face on an unseen step “… you seriously… you better hope that that guy is in for it…”.

“Don’t make me feel worse than I am already feeling!” you protested loudly “… he is hotter than his hot brother, so do pray for me instead”.

“… you’ll need a miracle” she protested, but did make you arrive at the end of the stairs safe and sound, and then took your phone, throwing it in her bigger bag, as you complained loudly “… and no you are driving, so no phone, neither for the hot guy”.

“Always the responsible ones…” you muttered, knowing that it wasn’t the truth in the slightest “… just let me tell him that we’ll reach them in a quarter hour”.

Hedda simply sent you an annoyed look, before relenting as she got in the car you had rented for the occasion.

“… I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those who is constantly texting her boyfriend” she muttered, lowering the car windows and you quickly typed in your message, waiting a few second for a simple ‘ok’ from Ivar.

Were you panicking?

A bit.

But you’d be fine.

Or he’d realize that you were seriously a stalker had you talked with him anymore.

And then Hedda reminded you of her as she sounded the car horn, effectively startling you away from your anxious brain.

And after all, the faster you got the car started, the faster you’d see him again.

You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t a comp6letely creepy thought.

---

You had been able not to lose yourselves on the trip to Ivar’s uncle’s barn, which had been a great way to certainly hype you up.

Hedda’s awful choice in music had done the rest.

But now you honestly didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Please don’t make me spray you with water” commented Hedda between her teeth, as she adjusted her blush and her own flower crown and you nervously curled a strand of hair between your fingers.

“… just give a minute”.

And she did, moving to lightly check some messages on her own phone, meanwhile you eased up in the place where you had parked, which was supposed to be a few minutes away from Ivar’s uncle’s barn.

In the middle of basically nowhere.

Hedda had joked about the fact that you had seriously ended up in ‘Midsomar’ and would be soon sacrificed, much to your already panicking soul, as you tried to search in yourself some willingness to meet again Ivar.

It wasn’t the simple nervousness of finally seeing the guy you had a crush on.

It was a multilayered feeling of fear and anxiety that had gone on for many years, as your lives were threaded together and separated by Fate.

And you didn’t know how to calm yourself.

In the end Hedda did spray a bit of water on your face, bringing you back from your historical thought, as you finally realized that you couldn’t let past history influence your present.

Although you didn’t know how to do that.

“Is everything alright?” asked Hedda as you moved away from the parking lot towards the small house, walking slow so that you could arrive there comfortably “… are you sure that this guy isn’t a psycho?”.

‘I am actually the psycho, with all these dreams of a past that maybe never existed between us’ you wanted to say, but simply shook your head, yawning lightly, because you had been up till late last night for your last turn at the hotel.

And you tried to keep your mind on the hotel’s turns that you’d have to restart tomorrow, to keep your mind in the present you were living.

Which worked well…

… till you arrived to the house and you found Ivar already out, helping up with setting in place what looked like a small gazebo, to protect you from the sun, meanwhile another boy set up a small plastic table under it.

And you wanted to turn and run away.

What had you been thinking when you had basically invited yourself to what looked like a reserved family ceremony?

Did you seriously think it was a good idea?

But before you could make a complete U-turn with your body, you heard your name being called out by a slight Nordic accent and as you turned around, your reality had changed inevitably.

No matter how much you tried to bring back your annoying turns at the hotel.

“… Ivar” the words left your mouth, although it felt like it had just been forced open, no matter how much you didn’t want to say those words.

His eyes smiled gently at you, as he walked to you, his clothes weren’t modern anymore, but they were an hard armor of leather, constricting him in a way that pushed his whole body to appear bigger than he was.

Relief flooded in you, as you faced him again, the knowledge of him having come back to you completely making you emotional, although you stopped yourself to wait for him to come to you again.

Your vision was disrupted by Hedda’s nails digging themselves in your upper arm, and when you batted your eyelashes, the entire set up you had imagined was gone.

Although Ivar was very much in front of you.

And looked like he had asked you something.

“I am sorry, I didn’t…” Gosh… he must have thought you were a weirdo for sure.

“… I just said that I am glad that you are finally here” his words were truly genuine as a softer smile appeared on his face “… and that you found us so easily”.

“I am a wonderful GPS” commented Hedda, noticing that you were having quite the trouble replying and more generally at talking “… I am Hedda, by the way”.

Ivar looked wary of Hedda but didn’t say anything, and his brother seemed quite taken by her appearance and he pushed himself up from the place where he had sat down, presenting himself to her.

And from the gleaming bits in Hedda’s eyes, you knew that he was hot enough.

And you were soon left with Ivar.

Gosh, could you embarrass yourself more.

Probably… yes.

You almost wanted to plead Hedda with your eyes to stay with you, but at the same time you completely understood she wasn’t your babysitter in any way.

“… so that is why you asked me if my brother was hot” simply commented Ivar, and although you blushed profusely at that knowledge, you felt like he had just shattered the wall of awkwardness between you.

“Hedda needs to have her own fun” you muttered “… mostly because she is a bitch whenever she doesn’t get enough attention”.

Ivar laughed loudly, and when you had both calmed down, you moved to ask if you could do something to help him.

And he redirected you around the gazebo to set it up, as he revealed to you that his uncle would be away for the day.

He was extremely blushy the whole time he said it, and you were a properly matching tomato.

‘… he said that he is too old to for these things” he commented softly ‘… he went fishing and will be back by nigh-time’.

‘Still it was very generous of him to offer us his place to stay’ you tried to make your words appear gentle and kind, although you couldn’t deny that you again felt a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

Two guys and two girls with a small private barn all to themselves.

Hedda would have called you a stupid not to think that this was an entire trick to get you to stay closer to Ivar.

But Ivar’s words seemed honest in what he had said.

And yet it didn’t lessen your embarrassment.

And neither your knowledge that this had happened before.

A picture perfect in your mind of a ’70-fashioned yourself, sleeping with your head against Ivar’s, meanwhile a lazy fire crackled beside you, light giggle and breathy moans from the other couple with you, who had been much more courageous than you two.

Because although you had been on the road for quite some time, you hadn’t been able to do much more than simply stand closer.

“… he hasn’t been the same since his wife died” commented Ivar, his voice lowering itself slightly and bringing you back to the reality.

Not the peaceful and nightly one you had seen in your mind.

You should have taken some medicine for these hallucinations.

And got a whole check-up once you were home.

Although you weren’t sure you wanted them to disappear.

The knowledge that you had been able to score a guy like Ivar in past lives certainly stroked your ego.

“I am sorry to hear that” you replied softly, another memory in your mind, an angry Ivar, nothing peaceful in the way he threw things all around the room and screamed, but then after all the air in his lungs had disappeared he had searched you, shielding himself in your chest, meanwhile he let out all the emotions he had been denying to feel.

“… thank you” his words were honest now as they had been there “… but on better topics, the place we are going after should be good, my brother has never played there so that is a sign of true quality”.

You laughed softly at his comment, meanwhile he kept a straight face but eventually cracked up a small smirk.

“Please don’t tell me it is this brother” you muttered, pointing to Hvitserk, who had been trying to show Hedda a magic trick, involving his abs, thing that had made Hedda very much interested.

(In the abs)

(Not the magic trick. That was pathetic).

“… she’ll make him ask to play her a song, record him and play it till she gets bored with it, and I already think her taste in music his problematic”.

Ivar laughed at your sassy comment, as you managed to finally settle up the gazebo, sitting in the grass to stare at your marvelous work.

“… no not this one” he commented, shooting you a conspiratorial look that made you laugh loudly “… another of my many brothers… Sigurd, the one that I can’t stand”.

“I thought you couldn’t stand all of them”.

But the name Sigurd brought something back to you.

Something dreadful that your subconscious tried to keep locked away and again you pinched yourself to avoid deepening up.

You had seen yourself dying in horrendous way each night.

Once you had been shot, another time an overdose had taken you and the most horrendous had been when a sword had pierced your back.

You had woken up with the feeling of it, screaming loudly as you groped your chest sure to find iron and blood in it.

But it had been just a nightmare.

And yet each time you died you had this knowledge that this had happened.

That it had been painful.

And that it hadn’t been fair.

And what was linked to the name ‘Sigurd’ seemed much worse than that.

Ivar felt the shift in you and you were grateful when he suggested he went inside and started to bring a few starters and drinks outside, since you had to admit that you were quite famished.

And so was his brother.

Hounding him almost like a dog, as you laughed softly at the image.

Having seen it thousands of times happening.

And yet it still hanged in your mind as if it was new.

Hedda took this moment to come to you, muttering about how dreamily Ivar’s brother, Hvitserk, was.

‘… and Ivar does seem to be quite taken by you…’ she commented, shooting you a knowing look ‘… and you seemed a bit taken by the gazebo, I’ll admit it’.

You pushed her away with your shoulder, although you couldn’t deny that.

And you were glad in the following moments to be able to simply think about food.

You thanked profusely Ivar when you realized that the meals he had gotten ready were some Icelandic ones that you hadn’t tried yet, mixed with some other typical dishes, and you were honestly impressed.

‘Oh, don’t worry, Hvitserk over here is the one who cooked everything’ he commented, shooting a quick look at his brother, meanwhile Hedda let out a breathy ‘oh seriously?’.

And you and Ivar laughed of those two idiots.

Again, that natural complicity sparkling up between you, as you talked with each other.

It just felt so comfortable and natural that you couldn’t help but confess him your ‘darkest’ and ‘deepest’ secrets, as he did the same of you, both laid out in the sun, after lunch, staring up at the it, barely shielding yourself from it with your hands.

You joked and you laughed.

And it almost felt like you hadn’t lost anything in your previous life.

As if nothing existed except you and him, in that moment.

But your soul was growing restless.

Almost as if it expected something bad to happen.

Because history had a tendency to repeat itself.

And your soul knew it all too well.

So, you were secretly happy when you moved into a crowd for the musical festival, glad to be able to move yourself among many people, the music completely blaring your mind in a calm state that brought you to definitely enjoy the moment.

And so, seemed Hedda.

You had also had special places, because of Ivar’s disability, standing in the front, meanwhile various bands of various musical genres moved onto stage, alternating themselves, between applauses and ‘boo’s, making you definitely feel like this was an unlike ‘Midsomar’.

But soon it got a bit too much for you and Ivar, the man almost reading your mind (which scared you, because your mind wasn’t a nice place in that moment) and you both suggested going for a round of cold drinks.

Hedda and Hvitserk carrying their orders on you, taking great advantage as you muttered softly in protest, Ivar matching your harsh glare, but you both laughed it off, moving to the small bar set up there, the crowd making it again a wonderful occasion to make small talk with Ivar.

But you couldn’t deny that every talk with him wasn’t simply ‘small talk’.

Although you knew that Hvitserk and Hedda were waiting for you to come back, you still decided to set yourself up in the deserted tables next to the small bar, since everyone was dancing in the crowd, but you were able to still enjoy the music.

Even better with nobody sweating against you.

The lady that brought you your drinks smirked softly at you and said something in Icelandic that you couldn’t quite catch but simply smirked at her, meanwhile Ivar blushed bright red.

‘What did she say?’ you asked, twirling your orange juice in its glass, meanwhile Ivar looked like he might choke on his own beer.

‘… she muttered something about… us being a cute couple’.

This time you basically spluttered the orange juice in his face.

Blushing even harder because of that.

‘… oh’ you simply were able to retort.

‘Oh, indeed’ he repeated, with some kind of bitter embarrassment to it.

And suddenly you were feeling deeply uncomfortable.

Unsure of whether you had said the right thing or not.

And the painful knowledge of your past hanging on you.

An awkward silence fell onto you heavily and you didn’t know what to say and you didn’t want to go back, because Hedda wouldn’t be much helpful since she had set her sights on Hvitserk and she’d have his number for sure, by the end of the night…

… if not something else.

In the end, Hvitserk and Hedda came looking up for you, joining you to drink, something that certainly made you feel definitely better, a bit less awkward, as you leaned on Hedda, almost shying away to her side.

And Ivar did the same with Hvitserk.

In the end you managed to eventually talk with Hvitserk, but awkwardness had again created a wall between you, two…

… a wall that had to be shredded, because Hedda had come up with a dangerous idea.

‘Why don’t you and Ivar spend the night together?’ she suggested, and again you were a tomato ‘… I mean… you could stay over there, since Hvitserk and I were thinking of partying a bit more and I know that you don’t like it. And I feel bad in making you stay alone…’

Other than the fact that she had basically invited yourself in her house, you didn’t think that it was a good idea, and told her so, insisting that Ivar’s uncle would be soon back.

‘… then you can stay for a bit and then go back’ it was obvious that both she and Hvitserk were playing matchmakers.

And you and Ivar didn’t feel like it, in the slightest.

You had already Fate pushing you up close.

That was enough.

You insisted with Hedda that you didn’t want to be of any bother to Ivar, and she insisted back that it wasn’t good to leave you coming back alone.

And although Ivar didn’t seem the type to be guilt-tripped into doing anything, he eventually agreed, although he told you that he’d have to see with his uncle if you could stay over for the night.

‘… oh no no, don’t worry!’ you tried to protest, already feeling like a useless baggage ‘… I’ll just go back before it is too late, I mean… it is still pretty sunny’.

But your mutter had gone unnoticed and after another round in the crowd, the concert had stopped, setting up a more commercial DJ sets, as you went back with Hvitserk’s car, the one to which you were gone to the concert, an hour away from the barn.

Back at the barn, the situation with Ivar hadn’t become better and another flashback had developed in your mind.

An annoying ride of carriage, because you knew that somehow Ivar was angry with you and you should have been angry with him, but at the same time you were damnably worried for him.

And you had reached out for him.

Finding the same gesture replied in the future.

And you were glad you had chosen to leave Ivar take the front seat, meanwhile you had simply reached out for Hedda’s hands, who sent you a look, as if to check whether you had inhaled some passive ‘smoke’ from the crowd of the festival.

You wished.

And when you arrived to the place you and Ivar basically were barely able to get out of the car, before Hedda and Hvitserk sprinted off, effectively leaving you stranded.

“Shit” muttered Ivar under his breath and you couldn’t have expressed better your thoughts, as you faced him, and all his previous reincarnations appeared in front of you.

A Viking warrior, a merchant, a lord.

And then you, bloodied and lost.

You shifted your head away from him, focusing it on your dirtied converse shoes.

“… if you want, we can go inside” he proposed eventually his tone settling up on a defeated tone “… nothing too much to see, but we might have beer…”.

“… have to drive” you reminded him.

“… and whatever you might want to drink with no alcohol” he commented, something almost comical in his words “… which is a sad choice, I’ll admit”.

“I am used to it” you shot back with a slight smirk “… does Hedda seem the type to be trusted behind a car wheel?”.

“You do make an excellent point”.

And then you dived inside, the small barn, being quite welcoming and quite comforting, definitely something that made you remember of home, as you noticed the small figurines draping and decorating elegantly the main hall.

Ivar saw that they had caught your eyes.

And not solely because they were beautiful.

But you had seen them in your dreams.

And then you felt like you had a heavy stone on your lungs, and you had to free yourself from it.

“Ivar, I have a thing to tell you”.

---

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Everything Taglist:

@maggiescarborough​​

Ivar Taglist:

@youbloodymadgenius​​​, @alexhandersenx​​​, @lonewolf471​​​, @flowers-in-your-hayr​​​, @a-mess-of-fandoms​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ (I also did yours, and it’ll be out soon too!) @peaceisadirtyword​

[yukiobeyme]

Hi there! Just wondering if you could possibly write hcs for trans Beel or trans Satan? But if you can’t that’s fine.

I am supposed to doing my Civil Engineering HW? Yes.

I am coming back from the dead to answer this? Yes.

Can I talk about Trans!Beel and Trans!Satan all day? God Yes. Please ask me more talk to more about LGBTQIA+ and how it fits in Obey Me!

Thank you so much I hope I do this some justice. I am sorry how it got so long, but I got in the groove for this and I just came up with other ideas

Beel has some implied body issues, mention of top surgery and T-shots

So you more or less got Satan’s coming out story, I could have just written it as a fic and it would have probably been shorter and more concise. But I did add other headcanons as well and accidentally hc how Satan got his everyday outfit.

*Also disclaimer: Satan’s hc focus a lot on Parrotfish by Ellen Wittlinger being a gateway for him figuring out his identity. I have heard of it and seen both good and bad reviews. I recognize that some bad reviews implied that there are possibly inaccurate stereotypes but was a good starting point to introducing Trans Characters to fiction. I have never read it and can not confirm or deny what the reviews say.

Beelzebub:

From a young age he wondered why and how Belphegor were twins when he was a girl.

It caused a distaste in his mouth but more often than not he pushed it away.

 It wasn’t until the Fall; did he finally act on it.

The first time he was called “sir” his heart almost burst out of his chest

 He immediately told a sleepily Belphegor about it, he figured he wouldn’t remember in the morning

 But boy was he wrong, it turns out Belphegor laid awake after Beel told him that. In the morning they talked about it again. Belphie offered his full support.

Belphie became Beel biggest piece in his support system. Like sure a lot of problems, he said maybe a nap or food would help. But it turns out he was right? (Well for the most part) but whenever Beel felt like everyone hated him and judging him, Belphie would wrap him up in the softest blanket in the house and they would take a nap together. Or when Beel seemed to be angry at everything and hated everyone, Belphie pulled him to the kitchen and made his favorite meal.

Randomly one day Belphie asked about how Beel felt about himself. “Like it doesn’t matter if you pass in someone else’s eyes or not, but do you like how you look?”

That’s when Beelz really got into bodybuilding and weightlifting

While he didn’t necessarily come out to the rest of the brothers, but none of them came out as cis so he wasn’t going to go out of his way and come out as trans

“working your legs naturally helps build more testosterone, so does eating eggs,” it was Satan that told him shyly behind a book if Beelz noticed that Satan was eating more eggs and even doing leg exercising he said nothing

Satan and Beel would have random conversations about gender and identity. Most times Belphie sat in on it. Asking questions or making comments.

Before he got top surgery, he would wear full-body binders, he had a standard black and white, but he also had an orange one. Completely confident to wear them by themselves.

 After top surgery, he showed off (as he should)

Takes pride in his body and the work and effort he put into it. To make it his own.

·         T shots doesn’t help with his appetite at all, the horror that went through the house when the avatar of gluttony appetite almost doubled. After a few weeks, it averaged out to be just a little more than pre-T but the brothers none the less both impressed and mortified

Belphie immediately opened his closet to Beel, like Beel occasionally stole clothes before, but this time Belphie made sure that Beel knew whatever he wanted he could take.

Asmo was definitely down to help Beel with shopping, but he turned him down. Favoring to go with Belphie

Faced little backlash, only some sports watchers had problems with it but were quickly shut down. Though even after all these centuries some people still have problems. But Beel has learned to keep his head high but knows he is allowed to be upset and hurt by their words. But he also knows he can go to any of his brothers for comfort and to regroup.

Beelz doesn’t get the same attention and attraction that Satan does, but he doesn’t mind. Though when he sees younger lgbtqia+ looking in awe at him at the gym, he usually swings by to see if they have any questions or need tips.

Okay, wait hear me out… Definitely created a club specifically for lgbtqia+ to have the gym and exercise together. Whether it was leading a class, he has gotten Asmo to lead a few yoga/ meditations or letting them break out into groups and giving them tips on stance or what exercises could build muscles to help them pass. But most importantly teaches/reminds everyone that their body is their own. That no matter what happened to them, their body is theirs. It can look however they want and even if it doesn’t look perfect, it is still is worthy of love and self-care. “The only opinions that matter is your own, it is your body. Claim and make it your own. No one can take it away from you”

Satan offered to let him borrow Parrotfish, Beel isn’t too interested but Belphie wanted to read it to him.

Overall Beel is confident and comfortable with his body and his identity. On his bad days, he knows he has endless support from Belphie and his other brothers.

 Satan:

You know that feeling when something clicks and its that chilling calm that covers your body? Satan was reading a random book, Parrotfish by Ellen Wittlinger.

First came out to Asmodeus, because Satan knew Asmo would accept him and help him in whatever way Asmo could.

And of course, Satan was nervous because Asmo couldn’t go to the others not yet. Satan planned it out that Lucifer was on Earth and expected to be there for a week, so Satan had time to execute his plan.

Asmo was worried when Satan came to him all serious. Well, Satan is always serious but this time the nervousness and lack of confidence made Asmodeus sit still and hold his breath. Asmodeus was attentive as Satan slowly stumbled through his prepared speech, which mainly focused on talking about the book he had just finished.

 Asmo didn’t understand until he saw how heartbroken and lost Satan looked. He was frantic in a sense and blurted out something along the lines of, “So, you wish you were a parrotfish?” while it wasn’t necessarily the best thing to say, the laugh it go out of Satan and the uncertainty in his smile was worth it.

Asmodeus took it upon himself to go shopping for Satan, getting him new more masculine clothes.

It was Levi that got Satan’s his first Binder, “A lot of cosplayers wear them, so you should be okay for some light exercising in it”

Soon all the brothers, well except Lucifer knew and the day Lucifer came back, Satan hid and avoided him.

Satan should have known better, but he was still surprised when Lucifer summoned for him

He was terrified.

When he entered the room, he couldn’t meet Lucifer’s eyes. But when he spared the glance, he saw the disappointment in Lucifer’s eye. Satan tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and ignore the burning in his eyes.

“What are you wearing?” Not exactly what Satan thought Lucifer was going to say first. “Was it Asmodeus?” “Ugh” Lucifer shook his head and strolled to his closet and threw the door open and went searching for something. “Ah, there it is,” Lucifer returned with a yellow sweater. “This would be more suiting for you,” Lucifer offered the sweater to Satan.

“You aren’t mad?”

“The only thing I’m relatively mad at is how offensive that outfit is,”

“I might have shoes too, but they might be a little big on you,”

Satan left wearing his new sweater and shoes on, laughing how he had to keep a black undershirt on, and the shoes flopped due to being too big. But he left with a lot of weight off his shoulders and high in spirits.

That sweater is the famous one you still see him wear today. He wonders why Lucifer would have such a bright color and when he asked Lucifer just made a face and rolled his eyes as he replied with “Asmodeus thought I needed to brighten my wardrobe.”

 Satan loves it, its soft and bright. It’s a little too low cut for his liking but an undershirt fixed that problem. And it doesn’t hug his chest and honestly, it’s his favorite piece of clothing

 Parrotfish is a permanent book in his room and he reads it once a year. And has special scenes marked, so he can go back and read certain passages when needed

Once Satan came out to Barbatos and Diavolo they both requested to read the book and met with him for tea to talk about the book and life.

Lucifer even snagged the book for a bit. (He tried to be sneaky about it and Satan pretended not to notice)

 Asmodeus and Mammon is chaotic with their support, it nice and needed but can also be overboard but he knows they do it out of love. Pride is a huge thing at the house and Asmo decided to do a gender reveal party for Satan

Beelzebub, Belphegor and Levi are supportive like they are ready to fight anyone who gives Satan any issues about his gender and gender identity, but they are as obnoxious as Asmo and Mammon. They will sit with him, talk to him, or just quietly listen. Most times they can’t offer help and admit they don’t know what to say other then they are here for him and willing to listen to whatever he needs to talk about.

Lucifer is quiet support. At first, Satan thought he didn’t approve but then Lucifer would make a random statement or ask for clarification that made Satan feel comfortable. Lucifer glared at anyone who even thought about giving Satan a weird look.

Satan’s go to binder color is a light grey and most times it just a crop top rather than a full-body one. Though he has an aqua blue one he wears occasionally. (I have a drawing of this somewhere lmao)

Satan tried to give himself his first haircut but Asmo had to come in and fix up the mess and disaster he created. Sure, his hair was way too short for his liking, but it wasn’t long anymore.

Over the years has learned the different meanings behind the looks he gets, whether it’s in disgust or that longing look that demons that aren’t out give him. He somehow occasionally becomes a dad to other trans! Demons. Whether it's long talks or if it's just quick tips that help him through the years.

Ironically enough, Lucifer is his biggest support or the one he relies on the most during days or moments when Satan feels terrible. Because Lucifer won’t be fussing all over him or beat around the bush about it. Sometimes he will state he too busy to talk but will leave and come back with hot tea and Satan’s favorite biscuits. Lucifer sometimes sends him away to grab his homework and they will just work in silence together. While Satan hates to admit how much he appreciates Lucifer for these moments, it helps a lot.

Last one! The first formal after Satan came out, he realized he didn’t have clothes for it. Out of all the styles and outfits he had gotten nothing formal ever came through. His brothers came through though. Asmo couldn’t convince him on any of his extra formal wear so he went around finding pieces that the other brothers weren’t using. Satan was only missing a jacket, but the outfit looked perfect. When he ran into Lucifer, Lucifer brought him to his room and offered him one of his simpler jackets and touch him how to pin it to tailor the sleeves to a better height.

[deadlymodern]

story q: is historical storytelling easy to do? have you found it difficult to achieve the realism you’re going for or have you managed with the content crated for historical storytelling? do you by chance create some of the things we see in your story to make it more immersive?

i hope these questions aren’t too annoying/invasive to your story process!! love ya!!! thank you btw 💛

Hi there! Nope, nothing invasive or annoying here, I find it endearing that you are curious about these things and am happy to share my thoughts!

This will be a long answer so I'll add it under the cut :)

1) Is historical storytelling easy?

This is going to be super subjective but it depends on what you think easy is. 

To me, all storytelling is challenging and can be difficult. I find that good storytellers are always researching and learning about the themes they want to write about. I see so many people on Simblr with stories in different time periods, talking about mental illness, sexuality, medical conditions, sex work, religion, different relationship formats etc. 

So, I wouldn't say it is easier or harder than telling any sort of story, I just happen to have chosen a different time period. It's challenging to keep searching and making sure I know what I am talking about. Especially since I'm a non-european telling a story through European characters. 

FOR EXAMPLE.

I was doing some signs for my train station and I happily added the British Railways logo to all of them. HOWEVER I later learnt, only after taking the screenshots, that the British Railways were created in 1948.............. So I had to remove all the thingies "in post" jfkgdlfg. But hey, I learnt a thing or two about steam power and railways in England that day so *pat pat*

Already connecting my answer to the next one:

2) Have you found it difficult to achieve the realism you’re going for?

Since I was not born on the Victorian era, it will be absolutely impossible for me to strive for actual realism. And, considering it is Sims, I think it's kind of bunkers to even try to achieve that, storytelling wise. The content creators are absolutely amazing and we wouldn't be able to do anything without them. But there are only so many historical pieces. Plus, it's not like there is one specific clothing for the whole Victorian/Edwardian era. Fashion changed so much so fast. So yes, my characters will wear historically inaccurate clothing sometimes, maybe a bit outdate or just a bit too modern. And they most likely do not act like Victorian brits did, nor live in housings like they did. BUT I think creating a believable atmosphere is more important in my case!

The good thing about not striving for realism is that we can all just buy the story with a bit of immersion. As long as I don't put something COMPLETELY out of place (cough looking at my past self dressing late victorians in regency gowns cough) it's fine. I guess every reader here has to just accept the suspension of disbelief c:

3) Do you create some of the things we see?

I have been mainly creating my own poses for each scene, if that counts. I've been venturing making poses for extras too (because I'm insane). I find it very immersive when I use my own poses because I can tailor them exactly for what I need.

Since my last story post, I started making some signs that help with the immersion too (the train station signs and, now, I'm making advertisements and showcase signs for the bazaar scene). They only show in the background, but I know they are there and I can read them and feel more inside 1898.

Unfortunately, wall decals are the only CC I know how to make and I'm shite at everything else. I've actually successfully meshed a pretty OK Gibson Girl updo, but I couldn't figure out UV mapping for the life of me and, honestly, I was too  lazy to try harder isjdfoidsj. 

I'm happy I can't make CC otherwise I would spend a whole lifetime creating an specific wardrobe and hair collection for each character and it would drive me mad lmao.

I hope these answered your questions and I'm sorry for any typos, I'm a bit tired ehe xx

[365days365movies]

January 18, 2021: The Mask of Zorro (Epilogue)

Some good old fashioned ‘90s fun, this one! WHOO! This one’s not an Oscar winner, sure, but I’d watch it again! It was a good time. Anyway, let’s break it down, shall we? HEEYA, TORNADO, AWAY!!

Recap

Cast and Acting

Antonio Banderas is suave when he needs to be, but also injects needed character and roughness when it’s necessary. He’s a great Zorro, and he genuinely makes me root for him. At the same time, he has a darker past, and they don’t shy away from that fact. Great choice for the character, and I do like the idea of officially making Zorro Hispanic, if I’m honest. Anthony Hopkins is surprisingly fantastic as the old Zorro, a role that was originally going to be played by...Sean Connery. HOLY SHIT, is it lucky that he dropped out, because Hopkins is way better than Connery would’ve been. His portrayal is full of pain and deep-seated revenge, but also clearly is still in mourning. Catherine Zeta-Jones has an interesting turn as the Inevitable Love Interest. However, I can’t really claim that the character is anything overly unusual, especially for the time period where the movie is set. And I think she suffers from simply not being given enough. Again, kind of the typical Inevitable Love Interest. Not necessarily bad...but definitely needs some more meat. Matt Letscher and Stuart Wilson were fine villains, playing their Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John roles satisfactorily. But I also can’t say they stretched beyond that at all. Really, I’m saying that Banderas and Hopkins were great beyond what was given of them, and the others...served their role. 7/10 for this one.

Plot and Writing

The plot for this movie, while historically inaccurate, was fine! Wasn’t really anything unique, though, given the fact that this film is essentially Robin Hood in Mexico. Which, yeah, is entirely fine (one could argue that I love that movie and I STILL WISH I COULD’VE TALKED ABOUT ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD DAMMIT), but it did its job, while also throwing in its own setting-based innovations. It’s the kind of plot perfect for your stereotypical popcorn movie. Now, the writing...the writing. The writing works...sometimes. And other times...Elena talks, I’m sorry, her lines were REALLY BAD half the time. Whoof. But Banderas and Hopkins did seem to be given the good lines throughout. Look, the story and writing aren’t exactly bad, but they’re not really anything to write home about, let’s be honest. We’re going 6/10 here.

Directing and Action

When this film was developed, both Steven Spielberg AND Robert Rodriguez were on the docket at some point. But both dropped out, and their replacement was...Martin Campbell. Won’t get off this list, huh, Marty? But, as is typical of Campbell, the action was fantastic, fun, engaging, and well-shot. The directing was good as well, and the cinematography definitely had its moments. Not amongst the best in the repertoire of Campbell and Philip Méheux (yup, him again, too), but definitely not the worst. Again, great, if not spectacular in some cases. 7/10 for this, though, since it was a lot of fun.

Production and Art Design

High points for this one! From its period-authentic wardrobe to its beautiful set pieces, this movie brings you into 1840s California, at least as far as non history major would know. It certainly felt authentic to me, although I’ll freely admit that I’m no an aficionado of Mexican cultural history. And when the sets aren’t fully realistic, they’re certainly memorable. The mine is a massive feeling setpiece, and you feel the grandeur and danger throughout it. Full credit to production designer Cecilia Montiel, costume designer Graciela Mazón, and art directors Michael Atwell and Ernie Merlan for the 8/10 I’m giving this movie! 

Music and Editing

Legendary composer James Horner, ladies, gentlemen, and others! The pasodoble music score, laced with horns and guitars, is a wonderful and memorable element of the score. And while I wish this movie had a Hispanic composer (and director, and a writer), Horner’s good at composing somewhat culturally accurate music. So, music was mostly good...except for that end credits song. NO. NO THANK YOU PLEASE. Fun fact for you: this film was nominated for the Academy Awards for Sound and Sound Editing. Did it win? No, lost both to to Saving Private Ryan, understandably. Did it deserve to win? Well...some of the sound editing is quite good! And other times...the explosions roar. So, it’s mixed for that. Still, for the great music, and the good sound design during most action sequences (most action sequences), I’m giving it an 8/10.

72%, folks. 

And like Atomic Blonde, it seems low, but I will absolutely watch this movie again, it’s a fun time! It’s the kind of movie that you turn on in the background when it’s on TV, look over, and enjoy yourself for a few minutes. I really did enjoy this one!

But, now that some somewhat light fare’s been enjoyed...we’re going to start looking at a different type of hero.

A bloody one. And we’re gonna start...en France. And...maladroitement.

January 18, 2021:  Léon: The Professional (1994)

[peremadeleine]

Droopy Sleeves and Tiny Bonnets: Watering Down the Romantic Aesthetic in BBC’s Les Mis

I wasn’t exactly blown away by the costumes in the BBC production of Les Mis, and Cosette’s in particular, cute as Ellie Bamber is, were thoroughly “just okay.” But I didn’t put much more thought into it...

Well, not until Gentleman Jack--set in the exact same time period--blew BBC’s Les Mis out of the water with its costume design. Then more recently, when I started researching the fashion of the early 1830s, all the ways in which poor Cosette’s costumes fell short became glaringly obvious.

Disclaimer: I am not as much of a stickler for historical accuracy in period drama costumes as this little essay is going to make me out as being. I’m not a Frock Flicks kind of gal; I just want to be entertained and look at pretty clothes. So as far as I’m concerned, as long as the basic silhouettes are there and the costumes are nice to look at, I’m there. (I find the wildly inaccurate costumes of The Tudors a lot more visually appealing than the ones in Wolf Hall. And everyone knows Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette was highly stylized, but those costumes are to die for and still embody the rococo aesthetic very well.)

That said, Cosette is a character who’s very invested in fashion, and the general look of the 1830s isn’t unknown to English productions, being the setting of Queen Victoria’s adolescence, Jane Eyre, Wives and Daughters, and many a Dickens adaptation among others.

So where did they go wrong?

Being honest, most of the Les Mis productions from the past two decades or so failed to put Cosette in high-fashion or even noteworthy costumes. Only the 2012 film for all the ways it failed her as a character hit it out of the park. Cosette gowns were damn near perfect--and they were actually pretty to boot! Unfortunately in the actual film you can’t even see the floral gown and you can barely see the blue one...thanks Tom Hooper.

The belts/buckles, the enormous sleeves, the delicate floral prints and embroidery, the lace collars...pat the costume designer on the back! (Her wedding dress was also on-point, but we’ll get to that.)

Claire Danes and Virginie Ledoyen had passable-and-sometimes-good costumes, too. Though Claire Danes’ were generally not very pretty, their overall silhouette was correct. Virginie Ledoyen gets a couple of knock-out, very period-appropriate gowns; the rest sort of fall into the nebulous “well, I guess you tried” category without being unattractive.

But the BBC production just...dropped the ball for reasons unknown.

Now, in the book Cosette overhears some ladies calling her “pretty but badly dressed.” She’s shocked, because she thinks she’s ugly but well-dressed. She then goes on a charming quest to become the best-dressed woman in Paris, and the BBC adaptation even has a scene where she goes to the seamstress. It’s really cute. Too bad that the dresses are...really not.

Here are some fashion plates from 1830-32.  Keep in mind that Cosette lives in Paris, of all places; she would be aware of what was and was not fashionable.

This is the height of Romantic fashion: giant (“gigot”) sleeves and bonnets, full skirts with hems at or just above the ankle, lace accents, silk stockings and slippers, elaborate hairdos. The 2012 costumes, again, capture this quite well. 

And even if the BBC designer had taken liberties and had fun while preserving the overall aesthetic--think what Sandy Powell did in Cinderella, set in roughly the same period--I wouldn’t be making this post. But there’s curiously little 1830s to be found in Cosette’s wardrobe at all.

I guess we should start with the BBC’s Good/Accurate Stuff. This coat Cosette wears is, apart from the deep fur-lined V-neck, almost a carbon copy of the extant coat on the right. And she has a bonnet!

Cosette’s best/most accurate dress is, naturally, the most difficult to see and has the least screentime of all her costumes:

From what I can tell, the sleeves, though delicate and sheer, are very full, as is the skirt, and the whole thing seems both pretty and en vogue...despite the questionable neckline. It’s also detailed--embroidery on the sleeves and with pleats (?) to create visual interest at the shoulders and on the bodice!

Here are a selection of other short-sleeved gowns from the period for comparison (both extant garments and costumes/reconstructions).

Tbh Ellie’s costume should be as stunning as the blue gown (far left) that an extra wore in Cinderella, but...maybe someday, in some Les Mis production, that gorgeous Sandy Powell creation will reappear. *sigh* (Virginie Ledoyen’s best Cosette gown is on the far right, btw.)

Anyway, that’s...that’s about it for the “Good” category.

Next up: her teal/turquoise dress(es). (She also wears a red one that looks exactly like this.)

Someone didn’t tell the costume designer that Cosette was supposed to be a fashionista, I guess. During my research, I did find a couple of dresses that resembled these two...but they would both be several years out of date by the time Cosette was going on her fashion crusade:

Even the yellow dotted dress has more style and “oomph” than what poor Cosette got stuck in--her sleeves look comparatively small, deflated, and underwhelming, all the more so when compared to actual 1830s gigot sleeves.

In the interest of being fair, some extant gowns from the right dates also look somewhat like these two.

But they all look, well...better. They all make me wish Cosette’s gown had bigger sleeves, a more-defined neckline, less wrinkly fabric...anything that would take it up a notch. (Also of note: as plain as some of these dresses look, they would not have been worn alone--accessories like wide belts, shawls, bonnets, etc., would have been part of the outfit when they were actually worn.)

And when it comes down to it, Cosette--who wants, after all, to be wearing the most fashionable gowns, like those in the fashion plates--should be wearing gowns more like...

The detailing, the fabric choices, the tailoring, and (sorry) the size and position of the sleeves makes all the difference here. A little more effort, even just padding for Cosette’s poor limp sleeves and a belt, would be enough to bump her looks from “kind of sad” to “something I believe this character would really wear.”

My personal favorite gown in the production was very pretty, flowing and delicate--and look: I’m willing to accept that Cosette wouldn’t always be wearing a fashion plate while chasing butterflies (something no film Cosette has, tragically, ever done...) That said, it still wasn’t very 1830s.

This purplish gown is the closest extant I could find to something like what Cosette wears here, but once you look at the details of both--fabric, neckline, whatever is happening around waist--all you get is “???” A lovely dress, but one that doesn’t make much sense.

So finally we come to what ought to be the showiest of all Cosette’s costumes: her wedding gown. 

This costume ought to be Stunning for a lot of reasons. The “Fauchelevents” have money! The Pontmercys have money, and they have society friends! Cosette is a fashionista, and she’s head-over-heels in sweet young love! And one an assume that Valjean wants to send off the light of his life, if send her off he must, in style--he’s heartbroken but also knows, from this moment, that he will never have to worry about her safety or well-being again.

With all that in mind, this is what Ellie’s Cosette wears...

Oh. Okay. Is it her freaking wedding day, or is she just going to a church picnic???

At least she IS wearing a bonnet in this scene, but it’s the same color as her hair (?!) and it’s tiny...just like her sad, deflated sleeves. The necklime and waistline both are at least accurate here, but like the sleeves, the skirt isn’t voluminous. Not a single thing about the dress makes a statement...unless it’s a shrug. The impression is, once again, “meh?”

At least a veil (which some women did wear on their wedding bonnets) would emphasize the “wedding day” vibe. How about, if they weren’t going to give it any volume, some detail on the gown...any detail...floral embroidery...a BELT...a contrasting color or fabric (lace, hello?!)...anything??? It’s just so plain and low-key. Just like everything Cosette wears in this miniseries.

Here are some period wedding gowns, two of which Cosette wears in other adaptations. They all have the wow factor this dress lacks.

Big sleeves! Lace! Belts! Veils! Lush fabric! Frills! Different colors/fabrics to create visual interest! Hairstyles that pop instead of blend together! These are the kind of gowns that say “I’m the bride and this is my day.” Not “I’m going to the church picnic.”

I want to reiterate that, after ALL that rambling...my big issues are that a) these dresses are not--by and large--attractive or interesting and b) that they fail to embody Cosette’s love of fashion. The fact that they’re so inaccurate for the time period is secondary. However, paying more attention to the fashions of 1830-32 would, I think, have helped make the costumes prettier and more suited to the character. How you dress a character is also a factor in how their character is perceived and can be a subtle means of character development. No chance of that here. (Post-marriage, Cosette wears such a blase dark blue coat that, sans fur trim, looks identical to her previous one. Yawn.) 

I’m just a fan, yet it still took me only three days of basic research to put this post together. Expecting a costume designer to put in at least a few days of light research is not a huge leap. I’m going to venture a guess and say that this designer did not bother to do that. And it shows.

It’s a shame, because Cosette gets a lot more screentime here--for the first time since the 2000 production--and she deserves so much more than shapeless gowns and barely-styled hair.

And also more than Andrew Davies...but that’s a rant for another time.

[j-ellyfish]

@fortune-maiden​

001 | Hetalia

Favorite character: I have a hard time picking just one fave in general ^^’ Trying to narrow it down to as few as possible, I’ll say Austria and Russia :3

Least Favorite character: I don’t have a ‘least favorite’ character, but I’m not much interested in Canada, America, the most recently introduced European characters (like Czech and Slovakia), Asians as a group (like I don’t care much for strips about their inner dynamics) and lowkey Nordics (I like them taken singularly but as a group I’m not head over heels for them).   

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): SpAus; FrUk; SuFin; LietBela; PruIta  

Character I find most attractive: Uhmm, there’s a lot of attractive characters but I’ll go with Austria (no one expected me to say that, huh)

Character I would marry: As much as I’d love to say Austria, realistically speaking, I think I’d work best with Spain

Character I would be best friends with: Japan or Lithuania, probably, but I’d LOVE to be close friends with Prussia and/or France too because I need someone very different from me that manages to get me out of my shell sometimes.

A random thought: Despite the flaws it has like any other fandom, Hetalia has overall a greatly prolific and passionate fanbase and when I look at some fanarts or videos or I read some fanfictions that are so well made, where I can just feel all the passion and hard work the author put in it ... Well, I feel very proud of everything Hetalia is about. We are always criticizing this fandom and I am very culprit of this as well, but looking around, I’ve realized how lucky I was to grow up as a Hetalia fan in my teen years. It sparkled so many interests in me and the series is also great food for thought when you look beneath the silly façade. Hetalia truly doesn’t deserve all the hate and prejudice it tends to get. 

An unpopular opinion: Alfred being depicted as native or black makes no sense because he represents the predominantly English-speaking white colonies that later became the US. Culturally speaking, the US is rooted in English (and European) culture the most, so I honestly find it somewhat offensive to depict him as a native (I mean, even as a total race-bending it makes no sense). Same goes for black Alfred because it’s historically inaccurate when it comes to the dynamics that brought the US (as a political entity) to fight for independence from Great Britain. Hetalia Countries incarnate the majority (because it’s the majority that define a Country’s general culture and traditions), not the minority. I’m not a fan of race-bending in general, either.

My canon OTP: AusHun, probably ♥

Non-canon OTP: I mean, only a couple ships in Hetalia are actually canon and that doesn’t stop the characters themselves nor the fans to multiship anyway so this is a hard question xDD I don’t think I can give an answer because there are so many non-canon ships I like ^^’

Most badass character: P r u s s i a, obviously lol Knight!Lithuania is even more badass, though.

Pairing I am not a fan of: France/Canada is basically my only NOTP. I’m also not a fan of Prussia/Canada and many other ships. Which isn’t surprising since Hetalia has like, what? 200+ ships, probably. We can’t like them all ‘xD

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): I don’t think Himaruya screwed anyone up. Of course, each of them may have inaccuracies due to the fact that he’s just a Japanese man doing his best to craft characters out of many historical sources and random trivia facts, but overall I don’t think there’s a character in particular he absolutely screwed up. 

Favourite friendship: A lot of Hetalia friendships are lovely so it’s hard to say, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Prussia and Hungary’s relationship as just friends. Oh! I was almost forgetting! BTT (Prussia/France/Spain) too!!   ----

003 | Austria

How I feel about this character:  I love him. I-ah, I’d have so much to say but I don’t want to start a TED Talk now so let’s just say, I love him. A LOT.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Spain and Hungary mostly, but I also like him with Prussia, France, England and Belarus.  

My non-romantic OTP for this character: PruAus, because while I don’t mind it romantically, I think these two give their best in a friendship/frenemies kind of scenario. I also really like the kind of father/son relationship he has with Italy (he lets Italy hug him!!!!) and, uh, whatever he has with Germany (I have lots of headcanons about it being a sort of father/son relationship as well but I fear canon kind of disproves my view on it xD). 

My unpopular opinion about this character: Austria. Is. Not. A. Mysoginist. Nor. An. Abusive. Parent. I won’t go too in depth about this because I already have a couple times but  1. Austria never asked Hungary to become ‘feminine’ or the perfect wife, she did everything on her own because she had a crush on him and wanted to impress him (plus she wasn’t a tomboy, she thought she was a boy because no one ever told her otherwise and all other Countries she knew were male, that’s very different). 2. A mysoginist wouldn’t let his wife join him on the battlefield because she wanted to, nor he’d help her do the dishes. Also, while we’re at it, casual reminder that for a good portion of decades she wasn’t his wife but her servant alongside any other territory the Austrian/Holy Roman Empire conquered. 3. And guess who else? Italy!! He was a servant and was treated as one. It had nothing to do with Austria being an abusive parent. Plus Himaruya exaggerated his antics for the jokes, but it’s clear that Italy was and still is actually fond of Austria. 4. Austria gave him a day off when he was sad over HRE leaving (and helped Hungary - his SERVANT - doing the dishes at Chilbitalia’s place, yeah, totally what an abusive parent and husband would do), he’d let Chibitalia take breaks and listen to his music when he passed by the piano room, he acts pretty much like an average somewhat strict father in the Counting With Sheep Drama CD (HRE, Chibitalia and Hungary are sleeping together on the bed like a family and Austria joins them too, makes them fall asleep by counting sheep out loud and then leaves quietly after telling them goodnight), he buys Italy A WHOLE NEW WARDROBE when he discovers he’s a boy and even helps him with his new clothes teaching him how to tie a bow/ribbon effectively and by the time this happens he, Italy and Hungary have pretty much become the closest you can get to a human family in Hetalia.  5. Don’t expect Austria to act like Spain acted with Chibiromano simply because Austria is not Spain and has a different personality, but it doesn’t mean Austria is a bad or abusive person, he’s just much less comfortable showing his true feelings because he’s an insecure person who sucks at war and managed to survive only through marriages. If he showed his soft side, stronger Countries would think they’d have a chance to destroy him and everything he built. Oooop I actually went in depth- sorry///

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: More of SpAus and I absolutely need something like the US/UK Independence War but with Italy and Austria. 

My OTP: ♥ SpAus ♥ I love to think that Spain was Austria’s first and that he’s the first and only man he truly, deeply loved. The only other person he has ever loved as much is Hungary. He may have had a lot of affairs with many Countries (*cough* France *cough*) but Spain and Hungary are the only ones he feels spiritually tied to. They’ll be his only true loves forever. 

My OT3: Frying Pangle, especially Historical!Frying Pangle because I’m a sucker for that kind of stuff. Give me innocent Austria, Prussia and Hungary ending up in a relationship and having no idea what they’re doing because they’re still so innocent they didn’t even think about it: they like each other, they’re friends, they spend time together and share everything with each other. Nothing sinful or weird about it. Yes this seems to contradict my point about SpAus but I like to come up with different scenarios for alternate universes.