#and she coincidentally doesn't have anything better to do then hang out in the living room with them

[greyyson-but-no]

Six Years Waiting

PAIRING; tangerine x spy!oc (easy to switch in reader)

UNIVERSE; bullet train but tangerine doesn't ‼️

WARNINGS; canon-typical violence, mentions of kidnap, torture, bad flirting, they're both idiots that want each other but don't know etc, no spoilers for bullet train plot

GENRE; fluff, tad-angst

WORD COUNT; 2.9K

A/N; im back to writing? I know, insane right? hope you enjoy, I'm gonna be rejigging this account completely so here's this as a waiting gift. aaron taylor johnson what a man you are.

It was a large plaza, filled to the brim with rich American businessmen that had nothing better to do with their time then host an auction, then a party, then get drunk and coincidentally lose the prize of the auction. Her name had been spreading around the city slowly, the more auctions that ended in chaos. Brioches, treasured coins, ancient weapons and vintage prizes just… slipping out of the hands of whoever had bid the most. She hadn’t always completed stretches of thievery — it used to be far, far worse. The company she worked after had taken her down after the news of the Segovia job had reached them at HQ. Just a couple too many spare bodies. She was now in therapy.

Descending the curved staircase, black flowing from her shoulders, a prize necklace she had stolen just last week hanging from the skin of her neck. It wouldn’t be the only thing hanging from her neck in a couple hours, though. Light bounced off of the glass chandeliers, alighting this night’s prize, sitting all grandiose at the far end of the room.

She kept a sharp eye on it.

But as she got to the bottom of the staircase, the red carpet moving out into the rest of the room, another person caught her eye. One she recognized, and knew better than she knew anybody else she’d ever met.

Tangerine donned a blue suit, his classic striped one that she always compared to David Tennant’s rendition of Doctor Who. He never understood it. He had just come in through the back entrance, and had made it very obvious he wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. It was a given. Otherwise, he would have told her he would be here, when, in fact, that hadn’t happened. She assumed he had been sent on this mission last minute, to fill in for someone. Because not only had he told her tonight was his free night, but his brother, Lemon wasn’t standing by his side.

Those weren’t their real names, of course. Just the names they went by to keep their real lives hidden. Over the years, their trust grew and eventually, after she had nearly died to an assassin from another company and the two of them had to carry her back to their house to let her get better, Aaron and Brian had trusted her with their real names. In response, she had done the same. Angel, became Ophelia, to the twins.

But there was always something more special about Tangerine.

When forced to explain it to her co-workers, all Angel could come up with was, “he’s just pretty, isn’t he?”, and she couldn’t help but think he had taken this job just because she was there, too. Bullshit, she was aware, but one could always hope.

Unless… Because as she looked back up at him after answering something urgent of her watch, he had his eyes skirting down her body, and quickly made a b-line towards where she was standing. There was this look in his eyes, that she hadn’t seen before, as well. Alas, the place was so damn big, this could have just been something she was imagining, since he was still so far away.

Something in her brain was telling her to run, and it wasn’t her handler shouting in her ear, that was for sure. Instead, the voice of logic, of reason, was screaming at her to not let him speak to her tonight. Was there really any harm in it though? It wasn’t like she was attached, or anything.

When he reached her, that smile, the cunning smirk, fed its way onto his lips as he took her hand and lent down to kiss the back of her palm. Words she never thought she would ever hear him say left his lips as he did so. “Ma’am, it’s lovely to see you here, you look incredible, as always.”

Okay, maybe she was a little attached.

Angel let a laugh fall from her lips as he stood up straight again. “Tan, shut up.”

“Never, my dear.” God, he was going to be the end of her. “I’m assuming you’re here for the necklace on auction tonight?”

She nodded, searching the crowd as he moved to stand to the left of her instead. “Yes. I can assume you aren’t? You’d never take a steal like this, even if it meant you would see me again. And especially without Lemon.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not that special.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Then a pause. Angel couldn’t get the smirk to leave her face as he continued on with his reasoning of being here tonight. Moving his arm, he pointed towards one of the women sitting up in the glass balcony above where he had entered the plaza just a couple minutes ago. “Lady Francis De Marco. Owes a client a superfluous amount of money and she’s late by a couple weeks. Harsh client, let’s say. It really was just coincidence you’re here too, love.”

Angel blinked, spotting the pearl necklace falling from this women’s neck. “She’s the one selling the necklace, no?”

“Her husband.”

“So, what?” She took in a deep breath as his hand brushed up against hers. “You’re here to kill her? Or just get some answers.”

Tangerine laughed heartily. “What do you think, doll? I am an assassin.”

Angel shook her head. “Careful, don’t say it too loud, someone might be listening.”

“Nobody cares about our conversation, sweetheart, don’t worry. They aren’t listening, to us.” He calmed, looking over the crowds just as she was. The conversation came to a simple ending, a comfortable silence waving over the two… friends.

Tangerine had now known Angel for six years, and each year he struggled more and more to understand how and why she could make him feel the way he felt about her. It started in New York, they had met at something similar to this evening, and had gotten along well, much to Lemon’s dismay. A couple months later, they were both sent out to kill the same person, by different clients. They took a finger each as proof for their individual clients. Every couple months, they would bump into each other, and after the first few times, the sight of her dressed up at the party, or clad in a tight black suit while fighting some prick had him head over heels. Literally once he had nearly died because he was too busy staring at her. He had started to worry he couldn’t work around her.

Then two years ago, she had nearly been ran over by a bike while on the run from someone trying to kill her. She had been kidnapped, tortured by this guy who only wanted her because of a small job from 15 years ago. When she escaped, she found herself finding Lemon and Tangerine. That night he had found out her real name. Ophelia. He thought no name could ever be better.

Don’t worry, Lemon had told him many a time that this was an issue. He knew it very well. It didn’t mean he had to do anything about it, but it was defiantly an issue.

Tangerine coughed, clearing his throat. “What’s your plan then?”

Angel shook her head. “Was gonna figure it out as I went, personally. What about y-”

“Same.” He dropped his head, looking down at the carpeted floor. “I was only put on this job last night, so, I didn’t really have time to come up with a plan. They didn’t even tell me that it was gonna be in a place this big.”

She sighed, allowing herself to look over to him for just a second, seeing his tired cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “I keep telling you to leave your company, they’re shit.”

He shrugged, grunting. “Could be way worse, sweetheart.”

Angel was well aware there was no point in even trying to convince him to move company. He defiantly wouldn’t without Lemon, too, and a long time ago that man had gotten himself into some trouble with the CEO of said company, he hadn’t been allowed to leave since that day.

“I s’pose we better get to work then, aye?” Tangerine murmured.

Angel coughed. “Yeah. See you in a bit, Tan.”

And while Tangerine was fully convinced they were going to complete both their tasks together, he again, mumbled a small sinnabit, sweetheart as she wandered off. God, what was his problem? Why could he not just do something about this stupid infatuation with her? He constantly just let it sit, murmuring in his stomach for years and years. Was anything ever going to change? He couldn’t ever imagine it.

Only two hours later, she was dead. Tangerine had cornered her in her office nearing the end of the party, and once she had understood what the assassin was there for, she simply let it happen. Her family didn’t have the money, it was as simple as that.

Angel was the issue. Tangerine had found her outside the office, clutching the necklace in her hands, shouting at him to hurry up because they needed to leave. She really had figured it out as she went, and it had turned out for the worst. This is why she was assassin, that’s what she was trained for, not stealing.

The two were running, and fast. Down the stairs and into a storage cupboard somewhere, Tangerine was following her, and from a rucksack behind a shelving unit, she pulled out spare clothes.

“I haven’t go anything spare for you, sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ll just take my jacket and vest off, that should do.” And he paused for a moment, spotting her struggle to unzip her dress at the back. It was probably just because they were in a rush, but then again, they were definitely in a rush, any help would do. “C’mere, love.”

Angel coughed a thanks, turning around as he took a hold of the zip, tugging it downward. She brushed away the thoughts of his knuckles running down her back, her bra strap appearing behind the black fabric. This was far too intimate for her liking, and the second he reached the bottom, she turned back around, telling him to turn around so as to not see her while she changed. Just a couple seconds later, she was clad in a white shirt and dress skirt, looking as if she was a waitress. Her hair was done up this time, a neat bun at the back that to her, wasn’t neat. It would do. “We’ll leave as staff.”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

They left the closet, turning left and joining the crowd again, the necklace neatly tucked in her pocket still. Luckily they didn’t scan in and out, so they could easily just slip away from the plaza, out the front door, and no one would look none the wiser. People were even acting as if the necklace hadn’t been stolen.

But as they joined the escalator that was leading them down to the final floor, a very obvious security guard was eyeing everyone up and down. While everyone on the top floor was made to act as if nothing had gone wrong, the De Marco family had sent out more security to see if anyone was acting suspicious. Staff members that didn’t have key cards and had seemingly spawned in from nowhere? Suspicious.

Angel turned to face Tangerine again, who looked nervous having also spotted the security guard. “I could just kill him?”

“Making ourselves even more suspicious and draw attention to us? No. We need to deflect them. Making them not want to look at us.” This wasn’t the first time Angel had needed to get herself out of a situation similar to this. Tangerine, though, hadn’t.

Tangerine frowned. “And how do you expect we do that?”

She grimaced. “I’m sorry. People hate public displays of affection.”

“Public what—”

Hands around his neck, she pulled him in, lips against his own, letting it get a little too intimate for public. They just fell into it. As his tongue brushed up against her bottom lip and her knees nearly gave in, a thought occurred to her. With his hand on her waist and her arms around neck, playing with the length of his hair. This felt natural. It felt… right.

They reached the bottom of the escalator, the security guard long gone. Tangerine cleared his throat as they made their way to the exit. His car was parked just a couple blocks away, so they walked in tandem to find it. There was a silence between them that wasn’t like the one before. Somehow, they were thinking the exact same thing, without even knowing it. How do I get rid of these feelings? And yet, neither of them wanted to.

Tangerine got in the car when they found it. It was an old Rolls-Royce he refused to get rid of, which she had been in many a time. Just, this time was different. Part of her just wanted to walk home. Her company would kill her if they found out she just took a stroll home with the necklace just tucked in a pocket somewhere, but the only other option was to get in a car with him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “You getting in or what?”

On a whim, she got in the car, sitting alongside him as he started driving off. There wasn’t a mention of who’s place they were going to, but they lived on the other side of town, and he was going in the direction of her apartment. Driving there from any point in the city was just automatic to him now. He knew how to get there from anywhere.

It wasn’t a long drive. Soon enough, they were parked in the blocks car park, and were heading up the elevator to the 12th floor, where her flat was. When the door was swung open, Angel flicked the low lights on, kicking her heels off as Tangerine helped himself to a cup of tea. He was good at telling whether she wanted to be alone or not, and from her relaxed form she had taken on the sofa, he gathered he could stay for a bit. Not too long, he wouldn’t overstay his welcome, but just for a little bit while they both recharged. Just a couple minutes later, he found himself next to her on the sofa, she automatically leant her feet on his legs as he grabbed the remote to scroll through the channels. The silence became comforting again as she watched him flick between late night shows, comedic dramas and general news channels.

Angel yawned, starting to speak as she finished. “You should probably text Lemon you’re here, he’ll worry if you don’t.”

“He’ll worry any way.” Was all he wanted to say, but the words came natural to him as he furthered. “You should go to sleep, sweetheart, you’re clearly exhausted, I can show myself out when I need to.”

She sat up, removing her feet from his lap and letting herself get that little bit closer to him. He cared. She could see it in his eyes, and it was genuine. The most genuine emotion she had ever seen him show, really. But it truly was there. Slowly, as his eyes scanned over the details and features of her face, now just as close to him again as she had been earlier when they had kissed, she reached a hand up to stroke at his cheek, seeing the dark circles around his eyes and that tired looked that seemed to follow him around everywhere. She felt his breath get heavier as he tried to avoid looking down at her lips. This was happening.

Angel sighed. “You need to take better care of yourself, Tan.”

His eyebrow twitched at her words, and he gulped. “What’s the point? I’m never going to find anyone that cares enough to force me to care about myself, and with my job I could die any day.”

“Oh, Tan…” Her thumb dragged across his chin.

He let out a breathy laugh. “What, sweetheart?”

It was only that little bit further that she had to move in order to press her lips up against his. It felt the same as last time, her hands resting against his jaw, his arms naturally, as if done a thousand times, curling around her waist, pulling her that little but closer. But this time they were doing this for themselves. They weren’t doing it for a quick escape, or to distract people, this was for them. Because for six years, these two idiots have pined for each other, and only now had something been done about it.

While all Tangerine wanted to do was ravage her, give in to all the temptations from six years of falling for this woman, he let her lead, let her keep it slow. They were both tired, they both just needed this.

As she went to pull away, he chased her lips with a couple small pecks, as if he never wanted to stop kissing her ever. Angel chuckled. “I care, so much.”

“I know.” He mumbled, looking up at her as he resting his hands on her waist tightly to pull her over onto his lap, letting her fall around him, resting his face against her neck, breathing her in and repeating the words thank you in his head, for anything to listen, grateful that he had her.

It would take a lot of work, but they were both now confidence they could maybe work together and juggle everything else. There was hope now; a reason to live.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 33

The party engages in some much needed shenanigans while Shuro and Kabru slowly make their way toward them.

It's been two days since chapter 30. At this point, Kabru and Shuro are probably about to enter the fifth floor if nothing has held them up. Since it's a large party, it probably takes longer to actually move.

Everything that's happened to Marcille has really caught up to her. The orc medicine put her in a state where she can move, but not much else. She's likely anemic because of the blood magic, drained of mana, probably pulled a muscle or two from how she tried to keep the walls from crushing them, and she might have some damaged ribs when everyone fell on her.

Her new hairstyle lacks any of the intricate designs and braids she normally has. She just tied it all into a ponytail. She probably doesn't have the physical ability to manage anything more than that without collapsing from pain and exhaustion.

I really do like how the story doesn't hold your hand and explain every thing someone is doing at a given moment. It took me a reread to notice that Chilchuck was trying to climb the wall prior to that wyvern flying by and he took off his shoes to do it.

What was he doing here? Was he hoping he could squeeze himself close enough to the wall that the wyvern wouldn't notice him? Also, does the pattern of his jacket coincidentally match the brick wall or is that intentional?

Laios isn't doing much better either. The place Falin punched him still hurts.

Zon's sister made the warg wave bye-bye.

I'm pretty sure Senshi's never really interacted with non-dwarfs before the story. Most of his early interactions with Marcille can be chalked up to systemic racism against elves, but everything with Laios and Chilchuck is because he doesn't know better. Namari also doesn't know how to estimate age for the shorter-lived races.

Why does everyone's mental impression of Laios always make him look deranged.

This winged lion has ram horns.

Maybe there are multiple winged lions in the ancient kingdom's mythos and the hornless one is a guardian of the living while the horned lion is the guardian of the dead?

When the dryad pollen started spreading around, Laios tried using the cloth of his shirt to cover his nose.

Is this what hay fever is like? I've never had it before.

Senshi, you have an axe. Why did you have to use Kensuke?

The male-looking dryads are female and the female-looking dryads are male.

I need to know more about how dryads work. One thing I noticed is they're all attached to vines hanging from the tree. And that vine is always extending to just beyond the panels.

So first question I have is are dryads the flowers of the tree or are they flowers of a separate vine species? Second question is could you kill a dryad by cutting that vine?

And the fruit just creates even more questions.

Flowers turn into fruits after pollination so the fruits are either the heads of the dryad flowers, or these are different faces that formed inside the dryad flowers and were left after the body withered away. We also saw a bud which will become a flower. Now I just need to know what the seeds look like and how they spread. Maybe the flowers also manually spread the seeds?

Senshi's beard got injured during that fight.

I'm sure the fruit faces change their expressions and that one didn't like Marcille eating out of it.

Yes! Good! Marcille is making Laios learn healing magic. Class Upgrade! Laios is going from Warrior to Paladin!

Senshi's racial insensitivity is just ignorance, but he really needs to understand stuff about other races so he can stop doing accidental racism.

back

[dredshirtroberts]

God it's no wonder i never thought of my birthday as anything really special and have just been waiting for people to forget it's a thing for years. Fuck the reality of the situation dawned on me and my god is it depressing.

Like...

When your choice - the thing you pick to do because you want to and think it will be fun - for your EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY is a Southern Republican Leadership Convention and the only reason you can complain about it 13 years later is because your politics have changed so drastically (for the better, absolutely for the better do not get me wrong), something has gone deeply, deeply wrong in how your family has handled your birthday up to that point.

oh sure we did fun things over my birthday but it wasn't like I had requested we go on a 2 week trip across the country by minivan, mainly camping the whole way in early springtime, and the only reason we were in town to be able to go to the Washington National Art Museum was because my dad wanted to go to a weekend hockey camp, and that just so happened to be the same weekend when the hockey team my family rooted for actually fucking won a game to get into the Stanley Cup on *coincidence* like...

My sister always complained about what we did "for" my birthday, especially if it was something I specifically requested (like the Art Museum because if we're going to be there and i'm 16 and fucking really into art, i wanna go to the art museum because what the fuck else is there for me to choose from in April in Washington DC?). You know what we did for her birthday *at her request* multiple years in a row? Waterparks, Amusement parks, fancy dinners at her favorite restaurant. My mom *chose* to go on long family vacations over her birthday, it wasn't on accident and coincidental and because we were already going to be there, it was on purpose and the reason we were going was *for* her birthday (except that one year, when it was for my sister's choir opportunities but one year as opposed to *multiple instances.)* We went to the beach many many times for my dad's birthday. We always did things *they* wanted to do.

When I became "fun" to hang out with (read: I was old enough to drink alcohol with my parents), I did a sit and drink with my family at a local bar until my little sister drove us home. I went to the only gay bar in a 100 mile radius with my roommate and didn't even drink, and no one even really cared it was my birthday. I went out drinking with my parents, my aunt and her at the time boyfriend (now husband) and their frat buddy and we lost my aunt, my mother collapsed because she was too drunk and I had to half carry her to the corner where my sister was going to pick us up, and hand feed her chips my dad bought for her when he finally fucking caught up like fifteen minutes later after we told him it was time to go home.

My requests for my birthday were "Something small, at home, nothing fancy, just maybe if we could get steaks and potatoes and broccoli, and a fun dessert" because if I made a big fuss, it was always "oh well that's really expensive and we all know your sister is going to want a big ol' birthday and man we really can't plan for that, and boy the off season in springtime is a terrible time to do things huh? Except for when it's your mother who has an earlier birthday but that's obviously beside the point"

My birthday this past year, another "milestone" in my family were it for anyone else, was a complete disregard for my request of something small because I didn't want anything big. And I got ignored. At my own birthday. And told that my family doesn't believe what I tell them about myself. And judged and berated and the only reason any of that was saved was because my partner loves me and even though they lived far away at that time, they bothered to try and do something special for me, but only within the bounds of what i was comfortable with and that's all i wanted.

i cried because i hadn't gotten anything even close to that in over 2 decades. I didn't know i could *like* my birthday.

I am....I am so mad. I am furious. but also? mainly? I am just...

i'm really fucking sad. what the *fuck*.

[nctsjiho]

What if Jiho left SM and NCT all together then filing a lawsuit against SM? How would the boys reacties to the news?

anon bringing the angst. I'm adding this to my imagine "series" (just for ease in the masterlist) first paragraphs are just setting the mood, starting the bold names is where the reaction actually starts ^^

cw: strong langue, angst

The second the news comes out the boys are all shocked. It's the type of situation where JiHo would be so emotional and scared for the boys reaction that she didn't tell them about it prior to actually leaving and filing the lawsuit.

"From now on, you won't be promoting with JiHo anymore," one of the managers say and for some reason it just doesn't click with the boys yet.

"What do you mean? JiHo's just sick, right? She will join us when she feels better," Yuta explains in a matter-of-fact way.

The boys aren't dumb though. When JiHo told them not to come by her apartment since she was really sick — with the emphasis on being contagious — the boys just agreed. When JiHo stopped replying to the group chat and ignored the boys' calls, they just shrugged it off as JiHo not feeling too well. They were all suspicious of the situation though, but too scared to face the reality and rather stay silent while giving everything the benefit of the doubt. It was all too coincidental though, everything happened while she was renegotiating her contract.

The manager's lack of an response was enough for the boys to realise the truth, but coming to terms with it wasn't in the cards for the moment.

"NCT's female member, Lim Jiho, leaves SM and the group and files lawsuit against the company" "JiHo to return to her home country, France, after filing lawsuit against now former company SM for violation of contract" "SM entertainment loses one of their best idols: Could we have seen this coming?" "Lim Jiho's father: 'my daughter didn't care about the money that they never paid her, she just wanted to perform with her friends but they stole that from her as well'" "All you need to know about the Lim Jiho vs SM lawsuit" "JiHo reunites with family + Did JiHo abandon NCT?"

Taeyong has always had the most knowledge about the tension between SM and JiHo — although still limited — so he'd be the most frustrated, believing he could have done something. Maybe talk things through with JiHo before she made any rash decisions, but deep down he knows that this was probably the only thing she had left. Before reaching out to JiHo he'd immediately step to a manager or even someone higher up to ask about the situation.

"I failed as a leader. JiHo was struggling and I couldn't help her—" "Don't blame yourself, it wasn't an easy decision on her part, but I know she thought this through," the manager tried to reassure him. "You're right. I'm sure she did what was best for her. I hope she'll be happier now."

Taeil, Sungchan, Xiaojun and Winwin would be in the "shocked but don't know what to do" phase. JiHo's friends with everyone, but those boys think they didn't have a place to say anything about it. They would try their hardest to go on with their lives without letting the news get to them, but it would still affect them negatively even if it isn't on a level as high as the other boys.

"Hey are you okay?" The boy would ask one of his other member's who was visibly struggling by the events of one of their members leaving. When said member shakes their head and starts crying, they can't help but feel tears well up in their eyes as they awkwardly pat their member on the back to comfort them even just a little.

Johnny, Kun, Ten, Yuta, Jeno, Renjun and Jaehyun would be pissed. Trying to get to the bottom of everything by going to the managers AND reaching out to JiHo. They won't take no as an answer (angry older brother squad) and hang on to the hope that their hard approach could get JiHo back. Out of the boys, Yuta would eventually break under the pressure and get really emotional because he will always see JiHo as his younger sister and feel like he failed to be there for her.

"It wasn't a rash decision—" the staff tries to explain for the nth time. "Then why didn't she tell us about it? It's your fault JiHo left! She wouldn't just leave like that, so explain! I won't leave until I understand why she left!"

Jungwoo and Jisung: emotional wrecks. JiHo is their support system, their rock, their comfort and now she just ups-and-leaves so unexpectedly. It would take the longest for them to get over it. The type of members who would still have a hard time if her name gets mentioned after a year of her leaving (probably longer if the lawsuit is public and takes a long time to get settled). They are the members you can NOT mention JiHo's name to during fansigns or interviews because they WILL choke up.

"Don't leave! Whatever is going on we'll help you through it. We can find another way to settle it so you don't have to leave. I'll even give you my own money if that is what this is about! But whatever you do, please don't leave us," he pleads, sitting on his knees before the girl with his hands clasped in front of his face; tears running down his cheeks and beading up in big drops before they fall down his chin and soak his jeans.

Doyoung is a mixture of team "pissed af" and team "emotional wreck". He just wouldn't understand why this was happening. Why didn't JiHo just talk to him? Didn't she trust him? After all those years together she still couldn't confide in him and probably had to go through everything alone. That though alone was enough to make Doyoung angry at everyone and anything. And at the end of the day he'd be crying against Johnny's shoulder, blaming himself for being a bad friend. + also the person you probably shouldn't bring JiHo up with after the fact for a while, because he'd get emotional over her as well but will also fight anyone if they are being disrespectful about her.

"How the fuck did you mess up so bad that she left?" Doyoung asks, slamming his hand down on the desk in front of the staff. "It was ultimately JiHo's choice to leave. We tried to compromise—" "Maybe if you wouldn't have treated her like shit for all these years it wouldn't have gotten this far!" Even if he tried to stay strong, angry tears filled his reddening eyes as he sends deadly stares to the staff.

Haechan and Jaemin are the boys who would try to reach out to JiHo and coax her into coming back despite that there was no real chance of that happening. They'd be affected for sure and very emotional about the situation but they are also hopeful. If they'd cry — which they would — it would be in the comfort of their own rooms or only when they were with a limited amount of their members or family.

"JiHo isn't there any way you could come back?" he asks. "I've been gone for almost a year now, you're doing fine without me," JiHo's voice sounds tired from the other side of the call. It's the same words she had been telling him for months now. He softly laughs, trying to ease the mood. He knows the answer, but each time he hears it it still hurts. "I would be doing better if you were here though," he tries to sound playful — it works, JiHo smiles at his words. One day, he hopes she'd tell him she could come back.

Mark and Hendery. They are so lost when they hear the news. Their hearts drop and they feel like they're continuously falling and trying to hold on, but there's nothing in reach to grasp onto. They'd be the ones to just ask their members for updates on everything. They would avoid talking about her during interviews and fan meetings and eventually they would lose contact with JiHo altogether. It's not that they've moved on though, there's just this weird empty void they haven't come to terms with and so they just can't push themselves to talk to the girl.

"JiHo got a new dog!" Chenle excitedly tells the boys holding out his phone to show the others who ask to see the new pet. Mark and Hendery sit to the side nodding slowly although not coming closer to check what the fuss is all about. They just try to keep themselves busy and the other boys don't force them to join them, knowing the two always feel their heart clench just by the mention of the ex-member's name.

Chenle, Shotaro and Yangyang would just kind of accept it. Of course when they hear the news it's a little hard to grasp, but sooner rather than later they would accept it. They would support JiHo in her decision and would also stay in regular contact with the girl. Maybe less then some other boys but that's because they don't want her to think they are only calling to push her into coming back.

"Hey, JiHo! Want to play CS:GO with us?" JiHo laughs as she hears the boys ask her to join the game as soon as she enters the discord call. "Sure," she smiles starting up her game. "When are we playing Valorant again though?" "Ugh! You never change do you? We've played Valo last week!" Chenle complains, also telling her and Yangyang to hurry up. "Oh! We've also finished recording our latest album, want to listen to it later?" "Am I the first one to listen to it?" She asks and when Shotaro says yes she agrees to Chenle's request.

---

S/N: Thank you for this anon! I didn't know what I was going to write for this one and suddenly I got carried away (^_^;)

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

[triplexdoublex]

Scotty Doesn’t Know

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/tags: smut, cheating

A/N: based off this old song Scotty Doesn’t know from the movie Euro Trip. Colson has a small lesser known band in this fic. https://youtu.be/7_AKr1BEajA

“Does Scotty know you're here?” Colson asks as you unbuckle his pants

“No! What do you think I am? Stupid?” You question dropping to your knees.

“So, what’s your plan y/n, you just gonna string him along forever. C’mom already I want you to myself.”

You pull him free from the confines of his jeans “Can we talk about this later?”

“Y/N!” Colson scolds at your attempt to avoid the conversation for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full,” you respond coyly before stuffing your mouth with him.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me!” He groans, pushing your hair out of your face and wrapping it around his fist. “You’re lucky you’re so fucking good at this!” He grits between his teeth slowly rocking his pelvis as he holds you in place, your cheeks hollowing around him as you suck.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you quickly try to silence it with your free hand before Colson hears but it’s too late; he lets out an annoyed groan and you know he heard it— Knows who it is . You distract him, sucking him harder, faster and cupping his balls — you know he loves it when you play with them. He’s told you on occasion that your head game is so good it could make him forget his own name; you’re just hoping now that it’s good enough to forget your boyfriend just texted in the middle of it, because the last thing you wanna do is talk about it … again.

************

Long after you’ve swallowed him down, you’re content with yourself thinking just maybe you really did make him forget about the mid-head text from your boyfriend when all of a sudden he springs it on you. “Did you text him back?”

“Who?” You feign innocence.

“Y/N don’t play stupid, you know who!”

“Oh, Scotty?”

“Yes, fuckin-Scotty. Who else?”

“Yeah, I just said ‘sorry I missed your text I was at church.”

“CHURCH!” Colson chokes out a laugh. “Just because you were on your knees on a Sunday morning , doesn’t count as church. Why can’t you just tell him the truth and break up with him already?”

“He’s my best friend's brother. It’s complicated. She made me promise I wouldn’t break his heart.”

“Sooo fuckin’ me behind his back is your solution to that?”

“Until I can figure out a way to let him down easy and not destroy my relationship with my best friend, yeah.”

“Solid plan,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Be a shame if he found out about us before then.”

“You wouldn’t!” You can’t tell if you're scolding or pleading .

“I might,” he smirks.

“Colson, please!” —Pleading, you’re definitely pleading.

“Oh, relax Y/N, I’m not gonna tell him— maybe just help the poor fuck figure it out on his own.

*********

By noon he’s got you on your knees again— hands and knees to be exact, pushing into you from behind.

“Oh fuck Colson, just like that!”

“Yeah, you like this dick, huh? Better than Scotty’s I bet!” He grips your hips roughly and snaps his hips forward. “Who fucks you better, him or me?” He taunts.

“You!” You answer without hesitation. He knows it’s the truth you’ve often complained about having to fake it with Scotty.

Just then your phone goes off blaring Scotty's ringtone

“Speak of the devil… Answer it!” He demands.

“Colson are you —?”

“I’m not playing — answer it or I’m not gonna let you finish!”

“Fuck— fine.” You reach down off the bed to the floor to retrieve your phone, while Colson keeps a firm grip on your waist, making sure he stays buried in your warm cunt. “Hel-lo” you answer, failing miserably to disguise how out of breath you are.

“Y/N? You alright?” Scotty questions.

“Sorry… umm yeah. I just—” you pause to suppress a moan “— I just ran to grab the phone.”

“Oh ok, I was just calling cuz the guys wanna take me out next weekend for my birthday but I didn’t know if you had anything planned for us already?”

Oh fuck, his birthday— you completely forgot. “Well… yeah, I did” you lie. “But it’s okay, go with your friends we can do something the weekend after.” You already have plans to attend one of Colson’s bands gigs this weekend anyways.

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best!”

Colson’s blood boils at the pet name. “Fuck” he drives his hips into you as hard as he can. Your teeth pierce into your lip as you bite back a moan.

“What was that!?” Scotty asks.

“The TV,” you answer quickly.

“Mmmm, you are so bad, baby,” Colson whispers into your flesh as he kisses between your shoulder blades. “I can tell you’re close, don’t hang up til you cum.”

“Oh whatcha watching?” Scotty inquires.

“Ummm… Horror movie— shit!” You choke out.

Colson brushes your hair of the nape of your neck and nuzzles into the crook.“C’mon baby, cum for me,”

“Must be really scary— you seem on edge.”

If he only knew how close to the edge you actually are right now .

“Yeah it’s really s— oh FUCK holy shit!” You scramble to hang up the phone as your orgasm hits; Colson’s following moments later.

“Uhh, Y/N! Fuck!” His moans are loud and exaggerated.

“I already hung up, dipshit!” You playfully punch him

In the arm after he pulls out.

You pick your phone back up and shoot Scotty a text ‘sorry, jump scare. I accidentally hung up.’

********************

“Five minutes til stage.” A voice announces from behind the backstage curtain. Today’s the day of Colson’s band's big gig, and coincidentally Scotty’s birthday.

“Perfect timing.” Colson smirks as he pulls his pants back up over his ass and you button your top. “Nothing like a little backstage quickie, before a show.” He kisses you then heads to the stage; you take side stage, hanging out near the crew and equipment.

“How we all doing tonight?!” Colson shouts into the mic. The crowd cheers lively in response. “Aight, that’s what I like to hear! I’m gonna start out with a new song about someone special; the sexiest little sex kitten I know!” He looks to you. “Y/N get your sexy little ass up here!”

You blush as you climb the few stairs that lead to the stage taking Colson’s outreached hand and he pulls you up. Your stomach sloshes with nerves and excitement, simultaneously eager to hear Colson’s song about you and concerned about this getting back to Scotty somehow. You try to push Scotty to the back of your mind and just enjoy Colson song about you … until it starts —

“Scotty doesn't know that Y/N and me

Do it in my van every Sunday

She tells him she's in church but she doesn't go

Still she's on her knees and Scotty doesn't know ”

Oh, Scotty doesn't know

So don't tell Scotty

Scotty doesn't know

Scotty doesn't know

So don't tell Scotty”

Your hand flies up to cover your gaping mouth as he continues to sing— each line more divulging than the last. You can’t help but laugh and decide to throw caution to the wind at this point and begin to jump and dance along. Colson sneaks up behind you as he reveals more and more of your secrets into the mic, wrapping a hand around your neck as he snaps his hips forward against your ass.

“I can't believe he's so trusting

While I'm right behind you thrusting

Y/N’s got him on the phone

And she's trying not to moan

It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing”

It’s as Colson sings one of the songs most incriminating lines—“I did her on his birthday” — that you notice a familiar face in the crowd making their way to the front. “Which is today by the way” he ad libs.

“SCOTTY!!” You gasp.

“Oh shit it’s Scotty!” Colson announces and then opts for a lyric change — “Scotty does know , Scotty does know!”

[issaxcharlie]

Ghost Of You 2/2

Pairing: Ghost! Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

Summary: Luke, Reggie and Alex have to assimilate their loss. For Luke of his girlfriend, and for the others of their best friend after suddenly learning that she didn’t have the future they imagined, and instead died 23 years ago.

Thank you to @cookiebuba for being the head of the entire idea and trusting me with it, and to Emy for almost holding my hand to force me to write🤣💜

PART 1 HERE

“It can’t be.”

“Luke, I-”

"No, Julie. You are not telling me that the woman of my life, the purest person who has ever stepped on this world, not only lost her partner and her best friends, but was only able to live her life for two more years and then ended in a horrible accident. It's as if life wanted to torture her before taking her too.”

“Love of ?... Zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away. Of course.”

“I- It can’t be true, please tell me it’s not true, Julie.”

“Luke... she loved you so much.”

He falls on the floor. The impact is strong, as if his legs have stopped working.

"I know." He whispers slowly, his gaze empty as multiple tears fall from his eyes.

The rest of the gang threw themselves to the ground around him and hugged him with all their might, trying to unite his broken pieces without any success. Alex and Reggie each crying silently over the loss of their sweet friend.

“What day did she pass away? Alex whispers.

"Let me search, one moment." Julie gets up quickly and checks on her laptop to find a little note about the singer's death.

"The rising singer Y/N Y/L who had just released the biggest hit of her career passed away this afternoon in a terrible car accident after leaving the cemetery where her late boyfriend, Luke Patterson, was buried. Y/L was there in commemoration of the 2 years of the loss of the aspiring musician, who died from a sudden tragic intoxication along with the rest of his band. Something to rescue from this tragedy is that at least she's already reunited with her eternal love. May both rest in peace.”

“This can’t be. My Y/N can’t be gone. Not her, not like that.” Luke is still in denial, unable to believe that his little girl suffered such a terrible ending.

“Maybe she’s not. There's still a chance that she's also a ghost.”

“Yeah, Julie’s right. We need to look out for her, we can't write her off without trying to find her first.” Reggie's eyes sparkle with hope, rushing to cover Alex's mouth in case he says anything other than motivating.

Luke takes his flannel and disappears immediately. Both Reggie and Alex stare sadly at Julie who simply whispers a "go, he needs you." They nod and teleport to their friend.

As expected, Luke is in front of the window of an old music store. He met his girlfriend here so many years ago, the day his parents agreed to buy him his first guitar.

The store had a small section where customers could try out some instruments and she was playing the guitar they had there and singing for the small audience. It seemed like it was something she did often because both the workers and certain customers seemed familiar with the girl.

Luke was captivated by her from the first moment. The energy and passion that radiated from her in every move was unreal. He had never seen anyone happier, much less singing with a borrowed guitar from a small downtown store.

The store is completely abandoned, so without saying anything he comes in and walks towards the small stage.

The ghosts of two 12-year-old kids singing together into the microphone invades his memory. If they only knew.

"Do you remember what was the first thing she said to you?" Reggie and Alex sit next to him on the floor, looking straight at the very small stage. They both try to imagine what their friends must have looked like singing here together the first time. Luke totally invading little Y/N's presentation trying to captivate her with his 0% music experience and 100% of enthusiasm.

Luke laughs through tears. "You have the voice of a country singer."

Alex starts crying when he imagines her. He met her just a few weeks later so he knows exactly how she must have looked and sound.

Reggie smiles while shedding a tear, remembering all those afternoons Y/N convinced Luke to join them in their country sessions. He knows that's why Luke hasn't wanted to know anything about country or his songs since they got back. They remind him of his sweet girl.

“I was so offended. I still didn't know anything about music but I had already decided that I would be a rocker. If I hadn't already been so dazzled by her I would have left without looking back.”

“And what did you answer to defend your honor?”

"You think so?" The three of them start laughing while still crying. A heartbreaking mix of pain comes from their chests.

“C’mon guys, next stop.”

The three of them were teletransporting around the city during the day without any success. Luke's desperation increasing for every place the songwriter wasn't.

At night the three decide to go back to the studio. Luke is heartbroken, bloated after crying all day, eyes red and sore, and whatever it was that was driving him to continue, off.

His friends couldn't do much for him either because each was living the loss in their own way, concentrating on living their own pain until they could process it.

Julie wraps them in blankets on the couch and tries to fill them with love, making sure to hug Luke tightly, who seems about to fall apart.

“Does anyone want to talk about her? Maybe it could make you feel better.”

“She was my entire soul, the words and melody in each of my songs. I just, I love her more than anything in this world. I would give anything for her. My guitar, my voice, my songs, whatever it took for us to be together. I know it doesn't seem like it at this point, but we belong together.”

“We know you do, man.”

“I didn't tell you but I dream about her almost every night since we got back. It is always the same dream. She is in bed, leaving my side intact. She's wearing one of my shirts and hugging my favorite one while sobbing. She falls asleep listening to the ballad I wrote for her soaked in tears and no matter how hard I try to wake her up, I can't get her to see or hear me. I can’t get her. After a few minutes she gets up still asleep and begins to dance as we did so many times, but alone. Then she stops and starts crying again inconsolably. And that's when I wake up."

"I'm so sorry, Luke. She deserved so much more." Reggie walks over to hug him, his head resting on his arm while he sobs.

“We couldn't even say goodbye to her.” Alex cries, his eyes completely red.

“We already know that she visited your graves, perhaps we could do the same, dedicate a few words to her.” Julie offers in an attempt to help them find some peace.

Luke looks devastated, but he nods his head as tears continue to fall from his face, the ring that his girlfriend gave him going in and out of his finger. Alex hugs Julie while she strokes his hair in an effort to calm him down and Reggie runs up to get a notebook and pencil to start planning what to say to his best friend tomorrow.

The three of them hang around all night, crying, writing, hugging, remembering the spark of Sunset Curve. In the morning before going to visit her, they realize is exactly the 25th anniversary of that tragic night that changed the lives of the four forever. Luke nearly punches a hole in the wall upon hearing the sad coincidence.

Her grave is right next to Luke's, who has never been here before and can't help but feel a bit anxious.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start.” Reggie tells the guitarist as he takes a step forward, a small smile on his lips.

"Hello, princess. Long time, huh? I'm Reggie, by the way. In case you don't recognize me from the slight change in my hair. I am trying a little more gel, I want something more elegant and classic. What do you think? Yes, I also thought you would like it.” Julie and Alex smile at hearing him talk to her as natural as possible.

“I tried very hard to think of what to say, because if there is anyone who deserves my best words, it is you. And three things came to mind that I want to share with you.

First, the color yellow.

Yellow like the guitar you were saving for two years to buy. You did everything. You were a babysitter, you walked dogs, you worked in the school library, you sang with your old acoustic guitar in every cafe, basically everything that will let you win some money.

And the day before you could finally go buy it, my dad broke my bass in a moment of anger in one of his typical fights with mom that got really out of hand. At least he didn’t hurt her, huh? But when you're a kid you don't even think about the possibility that something like that could happen, you just focus on the broken instrument in your hand. I ran out and ended up on the stairs of your house with my face soaked and one of the broken pieces in my hand.

You hugged me and promised that everything would be fine. That I was always going to have you four and that we would always be family. You assured me that good things happen to good people. And I believed you, you know? You were always right. But now that I'm here, that I know you didn't have the happy ending you deserved, I'm honestly not so sure anymore.”

Luke and Alex start crying again, each hugging Reggie from one side. Reg tries with all his might to continue through the tears, while Julie looks at them with a broken heart.

“The next day when I came back from school a new bass was on my bed. You talked to Mom so she could take the credit for the gift, but coincidentally was exactly the bass that I fell in love with a year earlier when we went to check if your beloved yellow guitar hadn't dropped in price. Luke revealed to me a few months later that you had to borrow money from your mom in order to complete the exact money for that one.

How generous do you have to be in order to do something like that? how noble? How loving? How selfless? You were always more than I deserved. I was supposed to be like an older brother for you, but it was always you who took care of me. I have Julie and Carlos, and I'm trying to be with them as you were with me. I had the best step sister in the world to teach me, and I hope I can do you justice.” Julie starts crying too after hearing his words, and resists the urge to going to hug him because she knows that they need their space to let go all the suffering that they carry.

“Second, my leather jacket.

When we started the band we made a 100% commitment to being rockstars. And a very important part is the look. You accompanied me on a walk around the city looking for the right outfit to literally go sing to the people who were lining up in front of the clubs.

Anyone could have left me alone on that for multiple reasons, not even these two wanted to face the trouble. But you followed me without thinking twice.

The afternoon was over and we still haven't found anything. Our feet couldn't take it anymore and we had 10 minutes to run to the club. But we stopped by a little store that had a black leather jacket in the window and you said, Reg, this is it.

You excitedly took me by the hand and when I tried it on, the rest was history.

Then I tried to get the whole band to use them but these two boys without fashion sense didn’t want to. You, on the other hand, supported me and wore your leather jacket during all the Sunset Curve performances we had, convincing me that they were our good luck charms and that if we both used them everything would be amazing. Oh god, I miss you so much.

And third, a star.

I thought you were a star when I heard you sing for the first time.

I thought you were a star when you and Luke managed to write the whole Sunset Curve album in 2 months.

I thought you were a star when you bought me my bass, when you made Alex feel better after one of his strongest attacks, when you filled Luke with love and support when he needed it the most.

And I believe it now that I know you are gone.

If you are in heaven, you have to be a star. And not just a star, the brightest star of all. I promise to look for your light every night to wish you sweet dreams. I will also sing you some country since you were the only one who appreciated my incredible sound, I hope it makes you smile.”

“That was beautiful, Reggie. I’m sure she loved it.” Julie finally reaches out to hug him as Alex prepares to be next.

“Hey. I don’t even know where to start.

I- I guess I should start saying I could never pay you all the times you were there to pick me up when I needed someone the most. I went back to dancing a little again. It's not the same without you, but somehow it makes me feel you close. I also met someone, oh Y/N, he’s so special, I'm sure you would have loved him and I would have loved the opportunity to introduce him to you. You were always there.

You were there to support me when I decided to learn drums to cope with my anxiety. You sang the song I was practicing over and over to keep me company and reassure me that what I was doing sounded good.

You were there to support me when I told you I like to dance. We spent hours choreographing different iconic songs and just laughing and enjoying creating more memories together.

Not shocking at this point but you were also there for me when I confessed to my parents I’m gay and you gave me strength all those times that I wanted to fall because they no longer saw me the same way.

You were always my safe place. And I regret with all my heart that I couldn’t be yours.”

Alex breaks down. She kept them on their feet during her darkest days and they paid her off by causing her the most horrible pain imaginable. Julie and Reggie surround her in their arms while sobbing. The last one of the band standing moves closer to the grave and drops to his knees.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so fucking sorry.” Luke tries to be strong, but tears start falling like waterfalls from his eyes, his face red in a mixture of despair, sadness and anger.

“I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone. Baby, I've been without you for only 1 month and I’m going crazy, even with the boys and Julie by my side. I don't even want to imagine what you must have been through those two years. My soul is shattered just thinking about it.

At first when we returned I imagined you were happy after having fulfilled all our plans with someone else. And I thought nothing could hurt me more than that, but obviously I was wrong. Because although it hurt me that I couldn’t be the one who was with you, thinking that you had been happy gave me the peace to be able to continue. Now that I know that life took away your opportunity, the only thing I feel is anger.

Anger towards me, anger towards destiny. Anger at not being able to be together even after death. Since we discovered where you are, I have only been able to think of cross over and finally be with you again.

Or at least go back to the night before everything turned into a nightmare. Fall asleep with you in my arms one more time.

I swear I even miss your snoring and you biting my cheek after your goodnight kiss, as you would say, in a gesture of love.”

“Hello again, my love.

I can't believe 25 years have passed. First of all, I want you to know that I'm okay. Or well, the equivalent for ghosts that are destined to haunt the earth alone for all eternity. I made a friend for several years, Rose. I told you about her, remember? I know you guys would have been good friends, she was a ridiculously talented musician. Since she died I no longer had the strength to go back to the studio, but for a long time I enjoyed her company in one of my favorite places. She promised to tell you that I'm waiting for you. I will wait whatever time is necessary, okay? I love you so much, baby.

You three are always on my mind, and I think I can finally accept that the pain is just never going to go away. But lately something super strange has happened to me, let me tell you.

Throughout these years, in the darkest days, I see you. But, they were always memories.

A month ago, I started to see you having other kinds of experiences and I honestly don't know how to feel about it. Am I going that crazy? I selfishly hoped that you too were ghosts for so many years. I looked for you 5, 10, 15, 20 years. And just as I decide to give up, my head imagines you all over the city.

The first time I saw you singing Reggie's jam on the beach. You guys looked so happy, love. It filled my heart with peace for a few seconds, knowing that somewhere up there you are enjoying life singing together all day.

Then I saw my beloved Alex with a cute boy. My heart melted, I can’t even explain how much I wanted to run to hug him and gossip about it.

Baby, he looked so peaceful. I always wanted that for Alex. I didn't know whether to be happy or cry because that didn’t actually happen, so I did both.

The penultimate time was a few nights ago when I was walking in front of the Orpheum and I heard your voices. How wicked my mind is, right? A knife to the heart would hurt less.

And now, I can't even get close to your grave because I'm imagining you all again.”

Y/N doesn't know what to do, if she gets close enough will they disappear? What If they don’t? Will she bear to see them up close? She has been dancing with their ghosts in her dreams for so many years, but It’s not the same as doing it when she is fully awake.

She is about to run out of there in fear when the silhouette of a fourth person catches her attention. She doesn't know why, but it immediately reminds her of Rose. Could it be that she is imagining her friend too?

Curiosity is stronger than fear, like all those times when she got into trouble with her boys. She walks carefully towards her grave which is next to her beloved Luke.

“I swear I even miss your snoring and you biting my cheek after your goodnight kiss as you would say, in a gesture of love.”

“I don't freaking snore, I told you a million times already... and now I'm talking with my imagination, great.”

The band turns in shock towards the fifth voice. That's when she can see the girl's face and realize who she is.

“Julie? But, how?”

“Y/N?” Alex whispers on the verge of passing out.

She starts to panic, just before the boys can do something about it, a new person appears behind her.

“Hey, you took a long time." She turns around and jumps into the arms of who has become her only friend in recent years.

“Phoenix, thank god.” Her body continues to shake but she clings tightly to her friend while crying uncontrollably.

To say the ghosts are confused would be an understatement. And apart from that, the guitarist is having many conflicts with the jealousy that he is feeling at the moment. They haven't seen each other in 25 years and when they finally do, she runs into someone else's arms and clings to him like her life depends on it.

What does that mean for them? Is it too late?

“Beautiful, what's wrong? Who are they? Oh, wait. You guys were at the club a few weeks ago, you're friends with Willie, right?”

Luke feels like dying all over again hearing him call her that. She continues to shake but finally lets go.

“What? You can see them?”

“Shouldn’t I?” He looks at her skeptical and shifts his eyes from her to the ghosts.

“I- Oh my god. I'm going to pass out.“

“Baby, look at me.” Luke’s voice is a mix between a plea and a demand. The terror of knowing that perhaps he has already lost her without having had the opportunity to fight for her clouds his judgment and tears begin to fall from his face again.

25 years. 25 years fighting not to forget his voice. 25 years having him only in dreams, in memories, in melodies. 25 years waiting for him. 25 years on her own.

She turns slowly to meet those honey-green eyes she craved for so long to see, a painful smile from Luke makes her smile through tears.

She carefully lifts her right hand and gently draws it to his cheek, almost exploding at the feel of it.

“You came back. Oh my, It’s really you.” She jumps to the guitarist, entwining her legs at his hips, her arms tangled with all her strength around him, her head buried in his neck inhaling his scent. Tears coming out as if to drown her, all the pain and suffering that she faced all these years finally leaving her body.

Luke wraps her tightly in his arms, still unable to process what’s happening.

Alex and Reggie begin to smile without fully assimilating what is happening, while Julie begins to jump of joy.

“Babygirl, I'm sorry to ruin the moment but I have to rush to the club. Will you be okay here?"

“She's always safe with me." The guitarist growls, and Y/N starts laughing when she hears it.

"The jealous, protective baby in the beanie is right, don't worry Nix. I’ll go and find you later."

Phoenix nods with a smile and disappears. Julie begins to scold Luke while Reggie and Alex approach to touch the cheek of their best friend, still in the arms of the guitarist who does not seem to have any intention of letting go.

“We should go home to catch up. Reggie and I will accompany Julie, it seems that you two should speak alone first." Luke doesn't think twice and disappears with her in his arms.

“Good things happen to good people.” Reggie whispers as he hugs his friends and they start walking home.

Luke and Y/N reappear in the studio and they are both shocked for a few seconds. The girl trembles again in fear of dreaming.

“Hey, come here baby. Shh, I’m here, I promise.”

“Don’t leave me ever again, please.” He can see that it is very difficult for her to understand that is really happening, and to think that she lived without him not 2 but 25 years makes him want to cry again.

“I won’t. I promise, beautiful. Never again.” Luke wraps her in his arms, but she lifts her head from his chest to push her lips against his. The kiss is urgent, but they both instantly recognize each other and fit in perfectly. Luke picks her up again and gently lays her down on the couch, both desperate to feel the other, to recognize every inch.

“I missed you so much baby, I love you more than anything.” Luke whispers between kisses, not willing to have her an inch away from him.

“I love you my love. I love you, I love you, I love you.” She says while kissing the love of her life, happy for the first time in 25 years.

Before things get to escalate, the rest of the band shows up in the studio followed by Julie who clearly walks through the door.

"Let go of her man, it's our turn!" Y/N gets up quickly from the sofa while her boyfriend complains and she throws herself at both of them who pick her up as best they can and spin her in the air.

They put her down and Julie and her stare each other, both raise their arms and meet in a quick but sweet hug.

“You said my name back there, how?” The question that she has stuck since she met her finally coming to light.

“I met your mom many years ago when I came to visit the studio and realized that she could see me. We were friends for many years and I had the opportunity to see you grow up, but I always made sure to be upstairs when you came in in case you could see me too.”

“Well, now I understand how Carlos felt when he found out that we lived with ghosts. And It sounds like mom watches over us both from heaven.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she does.” Both girls smile and hug each other once more.

“I can't believe I endured 25 years without having those beautiful arms around me.” She whispers as they both lie on the couch, Luke has her completely cornered in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It breaks my heart that you have suffered that much for so many years.”

“It was not your fault. You lost as much as I did that night. Besides, I always knew that you would find me sooner or later. We belong together.”

“We do. I, I k-know we have way more to talk about but, who was the dude from the cementery?”

The insecurity in his voice is evident and Y/N can't help but smile. His emotions are complex, real, and nothing can make her happier than that.

“I’ll tell you all about my friend later, okay? For now... dance with me? I want to dance with the real deal.” He smiles and they both stand up, hugging each other as they slowly move through the studio as they did many times before life separated them.

The Luke in her arms is her Luke, the same one she has been waiting for so many years, finally back in her arms. And just as she thought when she lived, she will dance with his ghost for all eternity.

Thank you for reading✨✨

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[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us. 

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics. 

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...