#anyway what is living without having a strange relationship w your parents

[gutsfics]

i love you Characters With Strange Relationships To Their Parents

[hisbutler-problematic]

On the topic of Sebastian being completely enthralled about everything Ciel is, I personally love it so much more knowing manga context, because O!Ciel was the 'spare'. He was not supposed to carry the family nane and, frankly, people didn't think he'd be capable of it due to his poor health anyway (Remember Frances and Vincent's conversation in the flashback chapters? It's obvious O!Ciel was quite saddened by what he heard).

By all means, in a twisted way, Sebastian might just be the first person to regard O!Ciel as someone deeply capable, a shiny singularity that doesn't live in anyone's shadow. The adults around him were - tho not unrightfully - seeing his fragility first and foremost while his brother, despite seeing him as worthy, didn't wish for him to leave and forge his own path. R!Ciel's reaction came from childishness sure, but that isn't to say that it didn't feed into the idea that O!Ciel was 'his backup'.

Going off from this, Sebastian is also the one thing in his life and is irrevocably his. Again, twisted, but all O!Ciel built has been under another's name. The manor, the company, the engagement etc. None of them truly his, but his brother's. And the other servants? They are loyal, however ultimately their own people. Sebastian? In an entirely different spot. He'll be there until the end after all.

This is an aspect of their relationship that tugs at my heartstrings so much. It's so toxic and depressing yet strangely soft and tender somewhat at least to me.

Sorry, I just really wanted to pour my thoughts and I appreciate your posts. So here I am!

anon, i’m in love with you

i literally think about this all the time like. that conversation frances and vincent had? imo vincent just flippantly saying "i guess ill just have to give the estate back to the queen lmao" could be taken 2 ways which is: at face value OR (what i think is more likely) vincent just saying what he knows will piss frances off to get her to stop talking. tbh vincent seems like a good dad imo and like he doesnt super underestimate o!ciel (he seemed absolutely fine with the idea of o!ciel going off to london by himself and opening a toy store in the future), but he DOES know that o!ciel is frail and sickly, and it makes me wonder how seriously he considered the idea that o!ciel might inherent the title of the queen's watchdog.

honestly, i feel in some respects, r!ciel treats o!ciel more carefully than their parents. he very much has an attitude of "my baby brother NEEDS me, he cannot survive without me!!" (gasps and shock, to learn it is actually the other way around /s)

all this to say, whether you lean more towards my interpretation or yours, or a fun mix, or whatever, it is undeniable that all of o!ciel's relationships were 'tainted' (for lack of a better term) by his illness and the way it made others view him and treat him.

AND THEN COMES SEBASTIAN

sebastian, who takes one look at o!ciel, and goes "lmao what a fucked up lil dude. time for little a snacky". sebastian, who then sits down to forge a contract with said little dude only to realize Oh Okay So This Child Is Clever. And o!ciel being sickly does kind of come up when they're making the contract, but sebastian focuses more on the actual logistics of that and o!ciel says 'nvm we'll deal w it when it comes up' (which is hilarious imo. he really said a sudden chill can put me on my deathbed but thats a problem for future me).

and then it turns out o!ciel is hella sheltered. but also a huge bitch.

and at this point, all i can assume is sebastian is so bewildered by this experience that the fact that o!ciel is frail and sickly and fragile is like. just another thing about this kid. o!ciel has never made sebastian's life easy and it would be stupid to think he would start now, sebastian thinks as his young master suffers from yet another cold just bc it rained yesterday. "i never knew you had asthma" says sebastian, who has read every medical journal to date on chest colds. "you never asked," says the bane of sebastian's existence.

and the thing is you can say "sebastian is only worried about o!ciel bc if o!ciel dies, he loses his meal" which is true and accurate and tbh if i was sebastian and i had put up w that much, i wouldn't want to lose my meal to a mere cough.

BUT ALSO

then you see the way sebastian is so fascinated and intrigued and bewitched by o!ciel. i think to sebastian the fact that o!ciel is frail and sickly is just another contradiction in the sea of contradictions that makes o!ciel so fascinating. and i think sebastian is the only one who really sees all those contradictions, he's the only one who sees everything that makes up o!ciel. and he loves what he finds.

(not to mention the fact that sebastian is the only person o!ciel allows to see his every aspect. or, well, some he tries to hide, but only because he thinks sebastian will try to use something against him. either way, sebastian is still the only person who he lets see the most of him. because sebastian is the only person who knows who he really is, who he doesnt have to put up a front for. he doesn't have to pretend to be his brother, he doesn't have to worry about being the spare.)

[mc-lukanette]

Now that Wishmaker is out, how would you rewrite that chaos? The Lukanette need is strong.

"Did anyone else see me?" Marinette asked, her hands shaking as she put on the mask she'd made with her newly-given knitting powers. They were sitting down in a shadowed alley, free from anyone's curious eyes.

"No," Viperion replied, his voice breathless from the revelations he was having rather than the fly to their hiding spot. "Just...just me." He glanced down at his wrist, noting the unticked snake bangle. "...I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Marinette's gaze darted over to him, then to his miraculous. A flicker of understanding passed over her expression as she whispered a small, "Oh."

Guilt tore up his stomach, even knowing deep down that it wasn't his fault - the akuma had surprised them, giving no time for him to use his power - but he'd been brought in to use Second Chance in the first place, and yet...

Marinette's hand fell upon his wrist, making him look up. She smiled at him, her eyes reassuring.

"It's okay," she said, though her voice wavered. "It was only you who saw my face, and even if you'd used Second Chance, you'd still know anyway."

He could tell that she was still processing, but let the subject go for now and smiled back. There were more important matters to attend to.

They must've been on the same wavelength too, as Marinette pulled away and sighed, thinking aloud, "I have to figure a way to be Ladybug again. The akuma could just be destroyed, but I need Miraculous Ladybug to turn everyone back to normal."

Viperion nodded, briefly giving her a once-over. Her power and wings were useful, but unfortunately didn't help them with the current situation.

It was also distractingly cute, and he couldn't fight that way.

"Wishmaker said that he wanted people to live out their childhood dream," he murmured in thought.

Marinette brought a hand to her face, pinching her cheek in contemplation. "Maybe...maybe if I live it out then, I'll change back?" She considered it a moment longer, then groaned and stood up, starting to pace around the small area they were in. "But we don't have that kind of time! Yeah, my earrings aren't here so Shadow Moth can't make a wish, and I could definitely make enough of a living with my new knitting powers, but that would take years, and—"

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at him, catching Viperion briefly off-guard since he hadn't said anything. Her eyes scanned him up and down, mental gears turning in her head even if he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"...That's it!" she gasped, hurrying over to him. She knelt down, clasping his hand in both of hers as she rambled, "Maybe I just need to live out my dream to the fullest!"

He blinked in confusion, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Part of my dream was to eventually make a wedding dress and tuxedo for me and my future husband!" she exclaimed. "If I do that, I might turn back into Ladybug!"

"Ah—" He shut his mouth before anything else could come out. He couldn't deny that it was a solid plan, but he wanted to tread carefully given his feelings, not wanting to make her feel awkward. "That's a great idea." He tried to grin reassuringly, though it came off a little crooked. "Should I go find Adrien?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No, it has to be you!"

He gaped, his heart doing confused flips in his chest. "Why?"

"The guy I always dreamed of marrying when I was little," she began, eyes practically sparkling, "he was exactly like you!"

— — — — —

Marinette hadn't exactly caught onto what she'd said until it already left her mouth, but the way Viperion's face turned red had definitely given it away. Things had gone quiet after the fact, with him sitting a couple meters away while she knitted away at the tuxedo; the tuxedo for him.

She found herself blushing faintly at the thought and immediately forced it down, reminding herself that she didn't love Luka, but Adrien. They were made for each other, like everyone said, and she—

She closed her eyes and took in a steady breath, knowing that she was getting off track. Things were complicated enough with all her thoughts and fears about the future, especially now that Viperion knew her identity.

Though, strangely enough, she didn't feel as nervous about it as she thought she would've.

Her gaze darted over to Viperion, who was keeping lookout and patiently waiting for her to finish with her knitting. He thankfully didn't seem closed off from her at all, and it just served as a reminder as to how mature he was.

Without thinking, she found herself speaking up. "M...my parents..."

He looked over at her, his senses still apparently tuned for her despite his keeping watch. She averted her gaze to the knitting needles working their literal magic into the tuxedo.

"We saw a lot of movies where the girl gets the prince in the end, so they made sure to teach me that love wasn't about money or power or fame or anything like that." She bit her bottom lip, Adrien briefly flashing to mind. "So, I imagined me as the knitting fairy, and I'd make clothes for the whole world until I found him." She peeked up at him. "Someone who wouldn't laugh when I fell on my face. Someone who'd be there for me and think of me first. Someone who wouldn't scold me for everything I did or make me feel bad for it. Someone who'd see more than just clumsy, nervous Marinette."

As much as it hurt to admit, the description didn't fit Adrien. Unless they found each other by coincidence - something that actually happened today, oddly enough - he didn't go out of his way to spend time with her; it was her putting in the effort.

"And..." She trailed off momentarily, lost in her thoughts. "after we fell in love, I'd give up my powers and live happily ever after with him, because we didn't need powers to be happy and it wasn't my powers he fell in love with in the first place."

She'd finished the tuxedo at that point, courtesy of her knitting powers, but her hands dropped to her lap afterward, not making any further movements as her thoughts took over.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Viperion take a quick look outside the alley, then get up to move over to her. He sat next to her, picking up one of her hands and letting it rest in his palm.

"I think your dream is really beautiful," he told her gently.

She scoffed, blushing in embarrassment at what must've been fake praise. "Chat made fun of me wanting to be the knitting fairy."

"He was wrong," he retorted immediately. "Your dream might not be realistic, but that doesn't make it any less nice, and there's nothing wrong with dreaming of the perfect guy."

She met his gaze, the softness in them having not lessened even since their break-up, and found the strength to start working on the dress. Being with Luka - dating or otherwise - had always been so easy, excluding all the factors outside of just them being them. She could vaguely imagine her younger self clinging to Luka, claiming him as hers and insisting that he marry her when they grew up.

But things weren't that easy. Nothing was. Marinette had spent her whole life fighting for what she wanted, needing to prove herself to people in order to be accepted.

Fighting for years to smile against Chloe's bullying, because no one would do anything about it. Fighting to be acknowledged by her parents as someone who could do things and didn't need their protection. Fighting against herself to be the one who didn't make all the mistakes or have to be the one to apologize in the end.

After becoming Ladybug, her future became even cloudier and the fighting continued. Waking up in the morning was even harder thanks to late-night patrols, getting through tests seemed impossible due to having less time for studying, and even maintaining a romantic relationship carried the struggle of not being able to tell them her identity.

Marinette stared at the shimmering pink and white fabric beneath her fingertips, it shaping and forming to her will. The occasional sparkle or flash from a beam of sunlight that happened to shine through reminded her of the day at the TV station, where Luka had confessed and she could see only him for just a moment.

"I'm sorry."

Viperion hummed in confusion, raising a brow at her.

"I made everything complicated for you—us," she explained. "All the time, ever since we met. I even got you akumatized, twice."

"Twi—" He blinked rapidly, then leaned closer. His hand came in contact with her cheek as he directed her gaze back to him. "You mean Silencer? How was that your fault?"

"I challenged Bob Roth, and when he grabbed me, you got upset. It pushed you over to the edge."

"You were defending me and my music," he argued, a sternness in his tone that wasn't there before as he put his hand to his chest, "and my emotions are my own. I'm the one who gave into Hawk Moth, not you."

"But..." She sighed, conflicted. "Even later, I kept my identity from you when we were dating. I made us both miserable because of it. I was so upset that I ended up yelling at my friends and they all got akumatized, and then I went and gave my identity to Alya anyway."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, though he quickly schooled his expression for reasons she didn't know. His gaze strayed momentarily before he looked back at her, asking, "Would you be upset at me for feeling happy for a moment, knowing that you were just as miserable as I was?"

"W-what?" She shook her head; if anything, knowing that he'd also been miserable made her happy as well, probably in the same way as it was for him. It meant that they both cared about it. "No! Not at all!"

"Then I don't blame you for your emotions either."

She pouted at him, but he merely smiled in response. She knew this wasn't a matter he was going to budge on, but it was difficult for her to understand when she was so commonly blamed for things. That was Luka though, she supposed, always forgiving and able to see through her faults.

She remembered her dream husband again and tried to act like her full focus was on the dress so as to not give her thoughts away. She'd only drawn the unnamed man once or twice, and it was just occurring to her that he had black hair and blue eyes as well. Having not understood the concept of kids looking like their parents in their own way at the time, the child version of her had thought it'd be "fair," because then their children would look like both of them no matter what. It was strange, just how much the "simple" version of her love ideals lined up with the boy sitting in front of her now, even with his temporarily green eyes.

Friendship had become something very precious to her ever since the day she'd gotten her miraculous, maybe even more than love itself. Despite the complications and their brief time dating, she was friends with Luka above all else. No matter what happened in regards to the romantic aspects of their relationship, their friendship remained unchanged, like they really would be friends even if they had the worst break-up in the history of Paris. It was comfortable, to the point where she felt embarrassed for ever avoiding him in the first place.

She was reminded yet again of another stark contrast with Adrien. She hadn't been scared of starting anything with Luka, yet Adrien was a constant cloud of dread above her head, the fear of being rejected or being made fun of holding her back from doing what she wanted.

If her child self could see her now, she'd be confused. Marinette could hear her now, asking why her love - or at least, what she believed to be love - caused her so much stress. That was never what she'd wanted; in fact, it had been the exact opposite. Crushing on Adrien had done nothing but humiliate her, the little girl inside her covering her eyes from the sight. Her time with Luka, on the other hand...

"It looks beautiful."

Marinette jerked her head up to see Viperion's approving gaze, then looked down to the wedding dress in her lap. It was finished, pink with flashes of white and blacks; exactly the kind of dress she would've wanted when she was younger, though obviously with an older touch.

"Thank you," she hurried to say when she realized that she hadn't responded to him. He chuckled in reply, though it was good-natured.

He reached for the tuxedo she'd set aside, but stopped halfway as if realizing something. He looked to her, then the dress, then back to her, asking carefully, "Do you want me to keep watch while we put these on?"

It took her a moment to realize what he meant; that he - wearing a bodysuit - could easily slip on the clothes over it, but she didn't have that sort of luxury due to her dress. She managed to summon enough of her inner Ladybug to focus on the importance of the task over the potential embarrassment, giving him an appreciative nod.

She trusted him not to look.

As she went to the darkest parts of the alley to change, Viperion heading in the opposite direction, her mind drifted back to the past again. The little journey there, even if it'd been unwilling on her part courtesy of the akuma, had been a nice change from constantly worrying over her future. As important as it was to focus on what she wanted to do and plan accordingly, the past was equally as important. It shaped her into who she was now and offered insight on herself that she couldn't have gotten otherwise.

"...Lu—I mean, Viperion?" she called just as she finished putting on the wedding dress.

"Yeah?"

She turned to face him, then giggled when noticing that he still had his back turned to her. "You can look now."

He hesitated, then slowly shifted to face her. He was mostly dressed, but was in the process of buttoning up the tuxedo, his hands fumbling with one of the buttons as he took her in.

She approached, gently brushing his hands aside as she started taking care of the few remaining buttons. Not wanting to delay talking to him like before, she figured now was the best time as any to say what was on her mind.

"I still don't know what I want for my future. I feel like a lot of doors are opening and closing every day, and whenever I want to try one, there just ends up being more doors, or it's already closed when I get there. There are too many possibilities and I keep being afraid that I'll trip on the one I really want to go to." Her gaze left the button she was holding so she could meet his eyes. "I just know that I really want you to be there for all of it... i-if that's what you want." Wanting to make sure instead of presuming like she tended to do, she asked cautiously, "Do you?"

His face didn't show a visible reaction, but she heard the slight sound of him swallowing, synced up with a single blink. Afterward, he absolutely beamed at her, the smile more blinding than the light being cast against his back.

"I do," he replied,

In time with his words, the final button was slipped into place. Marinette felt a warm sensation run through her body, starting from her feet and then making her shudder as it moved its way up to her head. Her body was turning white, just as before when Wishmaker first shot her, though Viperion's tuxedo had joined as well.

There was a flash between them, and she found herself back as normal, wingless Marinette when it faded.

Viperion, now lacking what she'd made for him, still looked just as happy to see her.

"I-I did it!" she gasped, genuinely surprised that it worked. "We did it!"

She threw her hands up in the air in celebration, but snapped back to reality as she remembered that she still needed to turn back into Ladybug and take care of Wishmaker. She opened her purse, easing as she saw Tikki already munching away on a macaron.

"Marinette?"

She looked back up at Viperion, noticing that he still had something to say. "Yes?"

"I might not be able to make enough sense of your inner music to tell you what you'll want, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I know that whatever you decide to do is going to be as extraordinary as you are."

She stifled a squeak, blushing at the sudden compliment and thankful that Tikki was still chewing the last bits of the macaron. "A-ah, thank you. You too—with the extraordinary thing, not your inner music, because I can't hear that even though I'm sure it's really amazing!"

Had it been anyone else, she might've prayed for a hole to swallow her, but it was impossible to feel weird when he smiled at her the way he did.

Once Tikki had gotten her fill, Marinette transformed and they began to leave the alley together, though Ladybug stopped partway as she remembered something; something she'd done many times before and felt it time to get back to doing.

Viperion raised a brow at her sudden stopping, then stiffened when she leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. She flashed him a smile, noting silently that she missed these little exchanges between them, then leaped away to head back to where Wishmaker was likely to be. Viperion followed suit, but a split second behind his usual speed.

She was sure he'd be smiling back if she looked, but she didn't have to; they were connected, maybe not by some sort of magic thread or cosmic force, but by them and the relationship she hoped that they would continue to build in the future.

And whenever they got back to the fight, just in time to see Chat Noir allow himself to be hit by Wishmaker's attack, a few more doors would close and her future would start to look a little different than what she'd considered that morning.

Not necessarily in a bad way either.

[soupbabe]

Could I get the Bucci gang and Diavolo with a ghost sibling? (like the one you did with Dio and the Crusaders) I really appreciate your writing and you've inspired me to try to write my own reader stories sometime!

Ghost Sibling HCs: Bucci Gang Edition! (+ Diavolo)

Oh my god that's so nice of you to say!! I think it's so cool that I actually inspired someone!! Ily so much anon!! <3 My only impression of Diavolo just has been his fight w Bruno, so I just wiki'd everything for him. So I apologise if he's not entirely in character!! Also, I genuinely had nothing for Abbacchio so he's not in this one. I really hope you don't mind

Warnings!: Goes into how reader died, Spoilers for Part 5, and Mentions of abuse from Giorno's part! Please stay safe !

Bruno Bucciarati

You were an older sibling of Bruno and you also stuck around with your father when the divorce came along

You commonly worked along with your father and ended up getting murdered when the gangsters infiltrated the boat

While your father was able to survive, you died at the scene. Your soul set to haunt the surrounding dock

Although it was tricky trying to see you due to the lingering fear of potential gangsters, Bruno always managed to find a way to visit you

It was hard for the younger Bucciarati, he cared about you as much as he did his father

Almost every visit was paired with a somber undertone, no matter how normal you tried to make it

But you were proud of Bruno and the man he's become today and you two still keep in touch

I do believe that as he gets older, he'd look at this place with a bit more fondness. Replacing the tragic memory of you and your father with all the times you tried to be there for him

When he became Capo, Bruno made certain to keep tabs on the small fishing village, making sure your resting place is in pristine condition

He's well aware that you might not get to pass on and he just wants to do what can to get you the best

Giorno Giovanna

You were Giorno's older step-sibling, having there be a 5-8 year age difference between the two of you

You were well aware of your father's abuse and did what you could to protect your little brother

Of course, your father didn't take too kindly to your behavior and it only made your punishments worse

One night, your father took out most of his anger onto you and it ended up killing you

Your soul latched onto Giorno, wanting to keep on protecting him even in death

You were there for him through everything and you were happy that he was able to find better family through the gang

And even in the gang, you were able to find your own peace in a way

(mostly) everyone welcomed you with open arms and it was a nice change of pace from talking to only Giorno for the past 10 or so years

Pannacotta Fugo

You were an older sibling, praised by your parents and used as an example for Fugo to follow

He never really resented you because of it though. You were helpful when he had the toughest lessons and treated him with the care that your parents never gave

I can imagine Fugo accidentally killing you during one of his rages, you got too close and he lashed out at you

As if he wasn't freaked out and panicked over your murder, seeing your ghost wasn't any better

He ignored any note of your presence, leaving it up to some hallucination rather than a ghost of all things

It took him a while to actually accept the fact that you're still with him and it was really awkward for a while

It made his guilt about the situation worse tbh, like it's been too long that he can't really apologize for what he did to you

And I don't imagine you being too happy either. Spending your eternity with your murderer and have him deny your existence for a couple of months does hurt

It's just one of those cases where your relationship couldn't be repaired after death, leaving you both to spend each other's company with an awkward weight on each other's shoulders

Both of you were never well taught in emotions so trying to cope with something as strange as this is not likely.

Narancia Ghirga

You were Narancia's twin sibling

you were just as loyal as him so you didn't bat an eye when he proposed that you both take Polpo's test

It's not like he would do it without you anyways, you two were a package deal

What he didn't take in account was you not surviving the stand arrow

It really did break Narancia seeing you dead and then seeing your ghost, looking like nothing happened

I feel like you haunting him furthers his denial of your actual death. That it doesn't actually matter since you're still next to him and able to laugh like nothing happened

It would be a combination of you and Bucciarati to help him with his grief, but he was still joyful to have you around

Even though you couldn't interact much with the physical world, he still invited you to his math lessons with Fugo and treated you as a valid member of the gang

Guido Mista

You were Mista's younger sibling that haunted his apartment

He'll admit that it was a bit freaky dealing with you at first, but he managed to adapt to it pretty quickly

He was able to live his usual carefree lifestyle, the added money from being apart of Passione was used for making the house a bit more comfortable

He felt bad that you couldn't leave and tried to make it more bearable

Plus he did it as an apology for all the times you cleaned up the pigsty that is his room

He also enjoyed that you were also free home security

He's made a couple of enemies in his time and having someone who can't be injured through typical means was helpful

He always enjoyed the occasional stories you told of the intruder's terrified faces at the fact that their guns and knives had no effect on you

But even if you were already dead, he'd ask for the faces of the idiots who disrespected and tried to kill to you.

Just because you're dead doesn't change the fact that you were still his family and he needed to teach those losers a lesson when you can't do it yourself.

Diavolo

Oh my god I'm so sorry for you

Listen, this man was not above attempted murder of his own daughter to hide his identity. You would've been one of his first targets

When he'd see that you never actually died, he would use whatever he had in his arsenal to get rid of you

But of course nothing worked, having to come to terms that you were a ghost

I don't think this could make his paranoia worse because technically you are gone and you can't go outside without him/Doppio, it's just a great inconvenience

He usually acts like you don't exist, yelling at you if you were to interact with the mafia boss

To Doppio you were only known to be a close friend of the boss and nothing else

He would happily chat with you, blissfully unaware that he was talking to a corpse

I think being anywhere near Diavolo in this state is a fate worst than death

Being around such a dark and negative energy already isn't good for the living, imagine how the dead feels

Plus not to mention the rough period of occasional murder attempts, all in new ways for Diavolo to get you gone for once and for all

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

HEY BESTIE ITS ME AGAIN! i was wondering if i could get a will request with angst. LOTS AND LOTS of angst about will and the reader seeming to always miss each other in sense of relationships and because of that the reader distanced themself from will so months pass by and they both are single then and they run into each other and eventually get into a fight bc he’s upset that they ghosted him and eventually have an angry love confession and happy ending?

thank u sm bff

YOU WANT ANGST, I"LL GIVE YOU ANGST...in a fairly decent amount cause this was hard to write for some reason🙃 sorryyyy @poulterfilms

~~~~~~~~~~

Why did life have to be so hard?

You watched as Will got ready for his date that night, giddy and excited to be going out, rambling on and on about how nice this person was, who he met a few days prior.

You just smiled and nodded along, pretending that your heart wasn't painfully throbbing with jealousy.

You hated this feeling, longing. It was strange, you never felt this way before with Will. You've been friends with him as long as you can remember, seen him have plenty of dates with other people. So why did you suddenly feel like you wanted him all to yourself? It wasn't like you at all.

"So, what do you think?" Will asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slowly spinning around to show off his outfit.

You plastered on that same fake smile that you unfortunately got into the habit of doing nowadays. "You look great, Will. You always do." You didn't mean to sound so sad, but it came out that way and you internally cringed.

Will cocked his head with a confused grin. "You okay?"

You nodded your head eagerly. "Of course!" You stood up from where you sat and quickly adjusted the collar of Will's shirt, struggling to pull away when he smiled at you. "I always have to fix that damn shirt collar." You chuckled weakly, forcing yourself to take a couple steps back.

Will copied your chuckle, turning around to do a once over in his mirror. "What would I do without you?" He joked, but you frowned for a split second before shaking your head.

"Well, don't wanna keep the lucky date waiting, right?" You patted him on the shoulder, maybe a little too hard since Will rubbed his shoulder with a grimace afterwards.

"You are absolutely right. I'll be off then, night, love!" Will placed a quick kiss to your cheek, heading out of his house, leaving you alone with the ghost of the kiss lingering on your cheek. The innocent, and most importantly, friendly kiss.

You looked around the living room solemnly, looking to your feet to see the two pups you were trusted to take care of while the owner was out of his date. Welp, at least I have his dogs to share my misery with...

You had no idea how you let this happen. You've always seen Will as a friend, and nothing more. You've both hyped each other up when one of you scored a date. Will has seen you off to plenty of dates and never had a problem with it, so why couldn't you do the same for him?

Unbeknownst to you, Will actually has had similar feelings. He didn't know how it happened, but he developed strong feelings for you. He clearly knew you didn't feel the same, and he had to sit idly by as he watched you be in and out of relationships with people who weren't him.

He's never been one to get jealous, but he'd definitely be lying if he said he never was jealous of your partners. He wanted to be the one to hold your hand, he wanted to be the one to open doors for you, to be the one you smiled at when he wasn't looking. He decided to move on, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But his respect for you trumped his lust that he felt at the same time, he just wished he could turn his feelings off.

You decided to hole up in your apartment after Will came back from his date, the date that went "extremely well." The "he'd definitely be seeing this person again" date.

You couldn't say you were devastated, for obvious reasons. You didn't want to tell Will you had feelings for him, and you didn't want to be selfish. You always felt selfish nowadays.

You just felt like a burden.

It was hard hanging out with Will, always having to hear about his new partner, how they're so nice and kind and caring and apparently so fuckin' amazing...it made you want to vomit. It made you not want to hang out with him as much anymore, but thankfully, that decision was made for you. Will didn't have time for you anymore, he really wanted to make his relationship with this new person work, more than he wanted to keep your friendship strong, you thought.

Eventually, you just stopped trying to initiate conversations. Will would text you, all the time really, he'd just be too busy to see you. Between acting roles and sending time with his partner, you'd only be with him through text messages.

An epiphany struck you one day: you deserved better.

You knew you were right, and that's why it made your choice to painful. You had to cut ties with Will, but you had no idea how you'd do that without breaking down.

You took the coward's way out, at least, you thought it was cowardly.

You simply just stopped replying to his text messages. But once he started to text you messages like "can we talk?" you thought you might give him a chance. You said you'd do it tomorrow, then tomorrow turned into the next day, then a week passes, then a month. You stopped thinking about it, you didn't want to think about it, because every time you did, the urge to contact Will got stronger and stronger. You wanted to move on. You needed to move on. But, you never could get him out of your thoughts completely.

Months and months go by, and before you know it, it's Christmastime.

You'd decided to travel around after cutting off contact with Will, mostly just couch hopping with friends, exploring the area to get your mind off how heart broken you felt. It was a good distraction, for awhile. But now that Christmas was soon, you had to go back to your home town; you did miss your family quite a lot. But you did feel that similar anxiousness after coming back home, thinking about Will and the "what ifs." Will always loved spending time with his family during the holidays, and you knew he'd probably be in town.

Just going outside to check the mail was nerve wracking to you, but you chuckled bitterly at your paranoia, it's not like he was going to show up at your house out of the blue. He wouldn't do that.

Your family really wanted a Christmas tree, a real one. You tried to use your allergies as an excuse to just stick with an artificial tree, but your parents were dead set on having a real tree. It wasn't exactly a lie, you used to get real trees, you just couldn't be around one too closely or else you get into a sneezing fit. But you really just didn't want to be out in the town, just in case.

But your family dragged you along to help pick out a tree anyway, in the freezing cold.

You idly kicked some icicles that were formed on the bottom of tree branches, smiling subtly to yourself as you heard the crackle of the ice hitting the concrete. You looked over to see your family still trying to decide on what kind of tree they wanted, and you remembered how indecisive your folks were. You were gonna be there for awhile...

"Y/n?" As if you weren't freezing enough, the voice that you heard from beside you made a chill go up your spine, causing you to sink down more into your coat.

You looked to your left, unluckily for you, seeing your former best friend beside you, an unreadable expression on his face. "Will...? Uh, w-what are you doing here?" You weren't sure if it was the cold that made you stutter, or just the pure nervousness and almost fear that you felt.

Will uncomfortably shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath before answering. "My, uh, mum wanted to have a tree this year. I'm guessing yours did too?"

You nodded curtly. "Yep."

The awkward silence made you want to curl up into a ball and throw yourself off a cliff.

"We should probably talk." Will said.

"Uh," You nervously rubbed your hands together, "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why not?" He asked bluntly, his expression turning cold.

You sighed. "I...well, I have to help my parents get this tree so..."

"Fine. I'll come by later."

"Wait-"

"See you tonight." And with that, Will walked away in a hurry, not giving you the chance to refuse.

You bit the inside of your lip hard, a coppery taste coating the tip of your tongue when you explored the small dent in your mouth that you created from stress.

You figured this day would come soon enough. Karma's a bitch, as some say. You thought you'd have a bit more time to prepare yourself for a confrontation, but the universe decided to be a jerk and sucker punch you in the face with your regrets.

You went home, feeling like a knife was twisting in your gut as you helped your family set up your Christmas tree in the living room, constantly glancing at the clock every chance you could.

Eventually, your family decided to leave the house once more, having bought tickets to a play that night, which you politely declined to go to. You weren't interested in yet another retelling of the Christmas story acted out by little bratty children who couldn't remember their lines half the time. No, you have somewhat decent standards.

You just sat on the living room couch with your family pet, staring at the clock, seeing the hands move slowly until it finally reached nine o'clock. You untensed for a moment, thinking that maybe Will decided to not come over. The loud ring of the doorbell quickly squashed that idea.

You opened the door, not surprised to see Will on the other side, his cold expression unchanged from when you last saw him.

You said nothing as you moved aside, opening the door wider for Will as he walked in.

The air felt thick, like there wasn't enough oxygen for both of you to be in the same room. It felt similar to whenever you pulled your blankets over your head when you were little and afraid of the dark, thinking that nothing can hurt you if you were completely wrapped up in the comfort of your duvet, but never getting enough fresh air to keep those blankets over your head, eventually having to pull the blankets off to breathe. You really wished you had a blanket now...

"Well?" Will broke the silence, looking to you expectantly.

You shrugged slightly. "Well what?"

Will chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "You know what, Y/n." When you didn't reply, he continued. "You stop talking to me all of a sudden, for months, not even telling me why. I need to know why, I deserve an explanation."

You sighed, looking anywhere but at him. "I just...needed some time away..." What a fucking lie...

"Some time away, really? That's your excuse? We were best friends, everything was fine, so what went wrong, huh? Why did you just up and leave everything behind without telling me?" You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself as his voice got louder with every sentence. "Are you even listening to me? Do you hate me now, is that it? I don't know what I did, please, tell me." He pleaded.

"Will..." You whispered, finally looking to him to see unshed tears in his eyes. "it was me, not you. You didn't do anything wrong..."

Will stepped closer to you, his arms crossed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt to be ghosted by the one person you thought cared about you the most? It really fucking hurt. And now, you're just standing here like you don't even care."

"I do care, Will." You said softly, reaching out to touch him but he quickly flinched away.

"Then why did you leave? I want the truth."

"I wasn't happy...with myself...with you." You started, walking over to take a seat on your couch. "I felt alone. You spent all your time with your partner, you rarely had time for me anymore."

"Wait, my partner?"

"Yeah...the beginning of this year, you started dating that person, I forgot their name..."

Will shook his head. "It didn't work out with them, I'm not seeing anyone, haven't for awhile. But that's not the point. Why didn't you just tell me that you felt alone? You know I would've made time for you if that's what you needed."

You felt like you wanted to scream, frustration starting to consume you, but you settled for a muffled groan. "It wasn't just because I felt alone..."

"Then what?"

Fuck it...

"Because I hated seeing you date other people. I absolutely hated it. And when you started gushing about how amazing this person was, I felt like I wanted to bash my head in with a hammer." Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated, but you got your point across.

"You didn't want me to date other people?" Will's heart beat rapidly in his chest, just the thought of why you possibly felt that was making him anxious to ask, "Why?"

You were scared to answer, afraid of his reaction. What if he hated you? That would be the worst case scenario, you'd rather die than have him hate you. But, you did owe it to Will to tell him the truth. The unfiltered, honest truth.

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember. We always told each other everything." You smiled weakly. "We'd always be happy for each other whenever we went on dates and found people that made us happy. But...there was a point where I realized that no matter how many dates I went on with other people, I never truly found happiness in those people. Because, I always thought about someone else...you." You looked up at Will. "You've always been the one person to make me truly happy. And I finally figured it out, it's not because you were my best friend, it's because...you're the one I always wanted to be with, Will."

Will took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to take in your words. "That night, when I was about to go on that date, you weren't yourself. You looked sad..."

"I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me." You wiped away a few fallen tears with your sleeve, sighing tearfully. "I was being selfish...really selfish." You frowned.

Will carefully sat beside you, looking straight ahead. The red and green lights placed crookedly on the Douglas fir being one of the only light sources in the room, illuminating your tear ridden face and causing a reflective shine to Will's glassy sorrowful eyes.

"I had no idea." Will said, being the first one to break the silence yet again.

"That was kind of the point." You sniffled, curling your knees up to your chest.

"...I'm sorry."

You furrowed your brows, looking to Will in confusion. "Why are you sorry? I'm the only one who should be sorry."

Will shook his head. "No..." He laughed sharply, clenching his fists in his lap. "It's funny."

"What is?" You asked, trying not to sound offended.

"I've spend years trying to get over my feelings for you, and you tried to do the same. Guess I'm not as intuitive as I thought."

You silently gasped. "Will? You...? Huh?"

Will smiled weakly. "I only started dating other people because I was trying to push away my feelings for you, and of course, it didn't work."

"Will, if this is some joke-"

"It's not. Have I ever lied to you?"

"...no. You've had feelings for me this entire time? And I punished you for it..." You said as you felt the tears well up in your eyes again.

"No, Y/n, no. You had no way of knowing, just like I had no way of knowing how you felt about me."

"I'm so sorry, Will. I never should've left."

Will quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You're here now. It's okay...we're okay."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Will smiled softly. "Of course. I've never been able to stay mad at you for long."

You frowned. "What if I deserve it?"

"No. No, you don't. It's all going to be okay."

You took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears again as Will pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "What now?"

"Maybe it's too early to ask but...we could go on a date." Will chuckled weakly.

You looked back up at Will, trying to hide your growing smile. "Really?"

"If that's what you want."

You looked at the clock. "It's getting a little late, I don't think that many places would be open right now. We could go out tomorrow?"

"It's a date." Will smiled.

You sighed. "I really wish I would've talked to you about this instead of running away..."

Will shook his head, bringing his hand up to gently caress your cheek. "I shouldn't have raised my voice earlier. So now we both have something we regret. But it's okay, Y/n. I felt like running away quite a few times myself whenever you went out with someone else...or just hiring a hitman or something."

You laughed genuinely, playfully pushing Will's shoulder. "I think my family is gonna be home soon."

"That's my cue to leave, I take it?"

You pouted. "I don't want you to."

"Well, hey, we'll see each other tomorrow." He smiled.

You walked Will to your front door, frowning as he opened it. "I never used to be the clingy type with anyone."

Will turned around to face you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm hug. "It's all going to be okay. We're gonna do this thing right."

You pulled away with a huff, looking deeply into his eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now." You giggled.

Will grinned, replying to your statement by leaning in, delicately brushing his lips over yours before fully placing them onto yours passionately. You could truthfully say that the kiss made you weak in the knees, it was everything you imagined it to be and more. It was intoxicating.

The kiss quickly got heated, and you didn't know if you'd be able to stop yourself. Will grabbed at your sides, trying to pull you even closer than you were already, eliciting a quiet moan from you when he gently pulled on the roots of your hair. But you finally forced yourself to stop, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry." Will quickly apologized.

"I didn't want to stop." You snickered, running your hands through your now tangled hair. "We haven't even gone on our first date yet and I already want to rip your clothes off."

Will blushed and grinned. "Guess we'll just have to save it for tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow it is."

~~~~~~~~~

I had trouble writing this, if you couldn't already tell. Ugh, I have no idea why the reunion bit threw me off balance so badly

[asterekmess]

Did you ever watch Buffy? The first episode where Anya was introduced was titled "The Wish" and all I can think about is if Scott McCall had ever run into a pure Sidhe where they offered him a wish. Instead of, "I wish Buffy had never come to Sunnydale." It would be more, "I wish I was never bitten to become a werewolf." But just like all feaye tricks, the outcome is more, his Dad ended up with primary custody rather than his Mom and he was forced to leave BH. And then Stiles ended up more friends with Heather and others. And while Scott's life is worse, when he tracks down the others he finds all of theirs are greatly improved.

I think about it a lot and how Scott never really dealt with the consequences of any of his actions, everyone else did, and how an episode or mini-arc could have fixed a flaw in the show's design. I mean, we were already dealing with a lot of Celtic lore, why not someone from the Sidhe courts?

I have no idea why this took me so long to answer, so apologies for that. <3 I did watch buffy! I've seen all of it, and all of Angel as well. XD

I remember 'The Wish' episode, and whoooo boy it gave me chills. I loved how big the butterfly effect was, how something that seemed so small, something that Genuinely seemed to be the cause of a lot of problems in Sunnydale, ended up being so important to how things had progressed. Because, yeah, you would think Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a Good Thing, right? Sunnydale didn't have all of these insane issues before she arrived. It was quiet, and nothing big or scary ever happened. Her arrival matches perfectly with when everything started going absolutely nuts, so whatever selfish ideas Cordelia had, her thought that Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a good thing, makes sense. Except that, as she finds out, she's entirely wrong. Buffy's arrival was a lucky coincidence, or fate, whatever your taste leans toward. She showed up right as things started going nuts, and she kept it from going SO MUCH MORE NUTS.

Now, moving on to TW, it is a fascinating mix of being the Exact same situation, and the exact Opposite. I'll add a Read More, cus' holy god is this a lot of Rambling.

Because Scott wishing not to have been bitten...yeah, the bite Did improve things. But it improved things for him. He would absolutely regret making the wish, just like Cordelia did, because he would realize how many good things the bite had brought with it. BUT, conversely, he would have to realize how many good things the bite had brought for him, not for other people, and how their lives either wouldn't have been affect, or might've even Improved without him being bitten. Without the bite, Scott wouldn't have gotten on first line, period. His health issues made very clear in the five minutes he had them that any kind of stamina based sport was just out of the question for him. If he is unable to walk through the woods at a moderate pace without needing to grab his inhaler and stop against a tree, he just plain cannot play lacrosse for two or three hours of running at high speeds and working a bunch of muscles in his upper body. He likely wouldn't have gone out with Allison, because he would have no convenient way to get her attention. Furthermore, he wouldn't have the extra senses that both impressed her on the lacrosse field, and told him about her 'family dinner' the night of Lydia's party. (I've discussed this before, but... While it's true, Allison would have still brought him the dog; that dog would likely have attacked him, and his chances with her would have been shot in the foot when they both got in massive trouble and he likely had to go to the ER for stitches or something. Without Allison or first line, he wouldn't have started hanging out with the 'cool kids,' and quite frankly, wouldn't have had anyone to help him study for the classes he was struggling with. It's true that he also wouldn't have had werewolf things to worry about, or even a girlfriend to distract him from homework, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a huge issue, but still.

If we look at other people's lives and how They would have been affected by Scott not getting the bite...well, let's talk about that.

Stiles didn't get on first line because of Scott, or because of a werewolf bite. Or even because of the werewolf bullshittery occurring in town. He was put on first line because of his abilities, and even after being taken OFF first line for missing the game, he was put Right onto the field in the next game, chosen OVER other players who were perfectly viable options. Which means, he still would've ended up on first line. Allison wasn't interested in dating before she met Scott, and part of her draw to him was based on how 'different' he was. He knew things she didn't know how he could know, he had a weird ability to calm a furious, injured dog, and he had charisma that was ALSO gained from the bite, since being on first line made Scott Much more self-confident. If she didn't end up dating him, it's likely she wouldn't have dated at all. Which would mean no hiding from her parents, no strange conflicts of interest, AND, interestingly enough --depending on her involvement in the murders, etc that would still be occurring in town--no night in the school that would scare her bad enough to ask Kate for extra help and tip her headfirst into hunter training. AND, even if she DID still end up getting those lessons from Kate? There would be no bitterness to fuel her behavior at the end of season 1.

Allison was Traumatized after Kate showed her Derek on the grate. She was horrified, and didn't know what to do about it, and while we can ramble all we want about the morality of her not confronting her family (whom she's just discovered is willing to electrocute people) about it, the fact is that she pushed the thoughts aside to stop freaking out and went to that dance. Where she found out Scott was a werewolf, and was So fucking Betrayed that she was willing to help Kate catch him and Derek. No Scott, no betrayal, no willingness to help Kate recapture the miserable man who'd been chained up in a basement.

If we go back to that specific night, and try to unfold the events from there if Scott hadn't been bitten, things get a little complicated, but I'll take a few artistic liberties. Scott isn't bitten. Presumably, he just happens to get out of the woods in time, or he gets caught with Stiles by the sheriff, or doesn't go to the woods in the first place. These all change the possible outcomes of that night. If he hadn't gone in the first place, and Stiles went alone, would he have been bitten instead? Would Scott have been dragged into all of this anyway, but without the protection and boost of being a werewolf and cured of his asthma? If he weren't the one bitten, and he saw everything Stiles gained from it, would he still have such a hatred for the bite? Or would he want it, like Erica did, to cure him and make him powerful and cool? But, let's assume Stiles doesn't get bitten either. The second half of Laura's body still hasn't been found, and Stiles has no reason to fear running back into the preserve the next day, and no real punishment from his father as far as we can tell. So, does he go back to look again? If he did, he would run into Derek, because Derek would still be there after retrieving Laura's body himself. He would see Derek and still recognize him, and from there, things might spiral, still involving Stiles in the supernatural, and it's likely Stiles would try to involve Scott, and Again we get hit with "Would Scott want the bite, if he hadn't gotten forcibly bitten in the first place?" The answer is probably yes. He wanted to be cool, and popular, and on the lacrosse team. He wanted everything being a werewolf gave him. BUT if we're looking at this wish as similar to "The Wish," then no matter what, Scott won't be bitten. He'll be transported to a new world where it just never happened, and he'll be human, and forced to watch everyone around him be just plain different. Scott not being bitten would isolate him from Stiles, if Stiles got involved in the spn anyway. We SAW how Stiles cut off his other friends once the spn starting getting in the way. He and Harley? We have no clue how close they were. They were close enough for her to tease him about his crush on Lydia, for her to wander up comfortably to the locker and talk to them. And he cut her off as soon as the werewolf stuff hit. What if he cut Scott off? To protect him, if nothing else, like he did his own father. Once he realized the danger involved, I doubt he would be willing to put Scott in harm's way.

So, Scott would not only lose first line, lose his girlfriend, lose his popularity, lose his health and strength and heightened abilities, lose his 'importance' to the goings-on of Beacon Hills, but he would also lose Stiles, who seems to have been his only friend, unless he also had a relationship with Harley.

Okay, I've rambled enough about the what if's, so let's talk about the Reason why this wish would go so badly for Scott, in such a different way than it went for Cordelia. Cordelia, first off, wished that someone Else would not have/do something, rather than wishing for herself not to have done something. She watches how fucked up the world gets, and how much worse her life is without Buffy around to save the day. Scott wished for Himself not to have done something (even something passive, like 'get bitten') and would have to watch how fucked up his world gets, and how far behind he would fall. The other's lives might not necessarily get better, because Peter is still on the loose, and the hunters are still there, etc etc, but they would still Progress, while Scott would stay stagnant.

And WHY is that? Because Scott isn't important to the story. It DOESN'T start with him. That's the Whole Point of his character. He is supposed to be the 'everyman' who gets dragged into crazy shit and becomes integral to things that he wasn't ever meant to be a part of. The guy who wanders into becoming King or 'The Hero' that will save the world, even though he's just a small lad from a tiny town, whose highest prospects were "get on first line."

He was NEVER supposed to be Buffy, or if he was, it was done Very Badly.

But Beacon Hills WASN'T a quiet town before Scott was bitten; however much he might've said 'nothing ever happens in this town.' It was FULL of bullshittery and magic from the very beginning. There was the fire, and Paige, and the blinding of Deucalion, and the death of Alexander Argent, and the Nogitsune in the internment camp nearby. All of these things were around So much longer than Scott's bite, and they'd been affecting the world that whole time too. Because yes, in Buffy, the master was There before she was, but he was literally rendered inert by the situations he was in. And the things he'd done happened Centuries before, not six years. There is a difference. Sunnydale was Not Known for the insane number of weird deaths. Beacon Hills was. And aside from the Nogitsune, every single fucking thing that happened in Beacon Hills, was attuned to the Hale family in one way or another. Deucalion's blinding occurred during a meeting on Hale land, because Talia was known as a wise leader, etc, in the area and other wolves flocked to her. Deucalion biting Argent seems unrelated (if you even believe Deucalion did that, despite being a fucking pacifist before Gerard blinded him), but again, it occurs just a couple hours away from Beacon Hills, which is Hale Territory. The one who plays the Buffy role here? Who shows up at just the right time, and launches themself against an endless wave of evil, with slightly enhanced senses and a thorough need to do good and not back away from things that 'aren't they're problem'? The actual hero who is somehow tied to everything going on in ways even they don't understand? Was Derek. The guy who entirely unwittingly allowed Julia Baccari to survive, because he was trying to be merciful to his first love. Who entirely unwittingly was manipulated into giving up information that let a hunter kill his family. Who followed his sister back to town after six years of just trying to survive in New York, fell into a fucking tragedy, and decided to stop the bad guys anyway, even though he knew he didn't stand a fucking chance.

And as annoyed as some might get. The 'everyman' who stumbles onto the set and accidentally becomes integral to the saving of the world? The one whose ambitions are small and who expectations are smaller? Who is misunderstood, and has abilities that aren't recognized or appreciated, that doesn't really fit in, but tries their best anyway? The literal Angel to Derek's Buffy?

Is fucking Stiles. The son of the sheriff who just could not let it go when he discovered there was something funky going on. Who hung around on the edges, even though he wasn't really wanted, because he needed to help. Who ended up saving Derek's life over and over, and becoming so important as to be Derek's anchor? Who literally WENT DARKSIDE and HAD TO BE NEARLY KILLED, even though Derek didn't to kill him???

I know how it sounds, but JD SAID he took inspiration from Buffy. The issue is that his parallels are between DEREK AND STILES, and BUFFY AND ANGEL. Respectively.

Derek might act like the broody bad boy, but it is STILES' mentality that matches Angel's behavior, and it's Derek who matches Buffy.

I'm so fucking off track. Scott would be miserable if he ever managed to get a wish and used it to keep from having been bitten. And it would be sad. I would feel bad for him, had I watched something like that happen. Seeing him realize that most of the good things he had, he only got because of the bite. That Stiles would still be on first line, that Lydia and Jackson would still be the popular kids. That Allison wouldn't know he existed, or if she did would avoid him entirely. That Jackson would never have been turned into the kanima in the first place. That everyone else would move on and up in life, and he would still be standing at the bottom step. Because it wasn't his actual limitations that were holding him back, it was his refusal to accept them, to work with them, and to just plain stop Envying Everyone Around him, and start living his own fucking life instead of trying to steal other people's.

Scott wishes he were Cordelia, and I promise that would backfire too.

[ushiwakaout]

You can’t tell me Ushijimas love affirmation is touch but he hates being touched at random.

THIS BIG GOOF OF A MAN need touch but hates asking for it and hates it as a surprise....

When you had first touched him, it might have been in middle school. You tapped in his shoulder and he jolted just a little, “Sorry, do you have a pencil i can borrow?” He raised a brow at you, “You came to school without a pencil?” You shook your head, “I write with pen but it’s math and i always mess up.... So do you have a pencil?” That was the first of many of your shoulder taps, it went for six months until Ushijima arrived by just setting a pencil on your desk before you walked in.

At the last year you had become really close friends and shared love for volleyball (although you only watched him play). It was around the time he was supposed to get out of practice that you heard a small commotion of boys outside the gym gathering around. No more than three boys who where in your class, surrounding Ushijima, calling him a left handed freak. You thought it was strange, “Hey! Leave him alone five-head!” You chucked your backpack at the boy who verbally attacked your best friend. “Just because he uses his left hand doesn’t mean hes a freak. You’re the freak because i caught you eating your buggers during lunch you fucktard!” The two boys beside the bully began to giggle like school girls, before he stomped away.

You heard a faint laugh coming from ushijima, which was very rare. “What’s a fucktard?” He asked curiously, which made you burst into a fit of laughter. You’ve never heard him swear before either. “I don’t know, it’s just the first thing that popped in my head... Let’s go home, i’m hungry.” That was the first time you held hands with Ushijima. 5:30 pm on a spring afternoon

In highschool you got more touchy. Platonically holding his hand or jumping on his back with the intention of surprising him but Tendo always gave it away with his eyes.

The ushijima fan club hated you. Tried keeping you away from him until their leader faced you one day during lunch. “Can’t you see that he clearly doesn’t want you? Why are you always trying so hard? He hates physical touch and yet here you are smothering your hands all over him! Don’t you get it, he’s never gonna date you and he doesn’t love you.” It was a little surprising to hear those words. “I don’t want to date Ushijima.” You told the girl, she gave you a rude confused look. “He isn’t looking for a relationship, he’s so focused of being the best volleyball player he can be... So why would i want to ruin that for him. If you didn’t know that, than you shouldn’t even be the fan club leader. Wakatoshi-kun is my best friend... i know he loves me. He would have told me otherwise... He’s too blunt to have kept me around for so long. Now if you’ll excuse me, I id like to eat my lunch, with my friends.” Little did you know that a few doors down, hiding away from you, Ushijima and Tendo where on their way to find you.

It was Autum at 1:10 pm when Ushijima had slowly come to realize that maybe what he felt for you was more than a friendship.

The day he lost to Karasuno, something had just been off about him. He sat alone with his thoughts. Tendo was no where around and his dorm was empty. A knock came to his done and he sighed, Tendo must have forgotten his keys again. To his surprise red hair didn’t face his eyesight but the white wall of the hall, until he looked down and you peered up at him. “Tendo sent me.” Of course he did. You blushed him aside and made him sit back down on his bed before shoving a goodie bag into his hands. “Eat.” You told him. He thought he was a man of few words. “Have you eaten?” He asked you, opening up the goodie bag. You nodded and sat beside him. He took out the black bowl container and looked inside, “This is-”

“Hayashi rice... I made it from scratch. You mentioned it a few years back while having dinner with my family. I hope it’s still you favorite.”

He rose a brow, a few years back. The last time he ate with your parents was 10 years ago. How did you remember such a small detail? “It is...Thank you.” You smiled at him. “Of course Toshi.” You watched his eyes twinkle when he took the first bite, since the game you knew he was a little off. Your hand rested on his shoulder and replaced it with your head. “Are you okay?” You asked him. He cleared his throat, “I’m alright... What about you?” His question was hesitant, as if he wasn’t about to ask but asked anyways. “I’m alright if you’re alright. But you do know I know you better than you know yourself right?” You tilded your head an examinares his face, “Unclench your jaw-” You had skimmed under his chin, cupping his perfect bone structure, “-and relax... You don’t need to be so tense. You’re not in front of the team right now, you’re in front of me.” Ushijima didn’t understand what you meant, did you believe you weren’t apart of his team? Of course you are. You’re the sole purpose this team has been kept together so perfectly , Shiratowizawas perfect, smart, incredible manager.

“Earth to Toshi? Where’s you’re head at big guy?” You gave him a small smile. He could clearly tell you where worried. “I’m alright y/n, you don’t need to worry about me.” You scoffed, “Bull. I’m always going to worry about you, even if we get old and wrinkly.” Ushijima let out a dry chuckle. “You think we’ll still be in touch by then?” He asked. He could feel your hand tense under his chin as you gave him a smile but this time, the look in your eyes was sad. “I hope so. You’re my best friend, i wouldn’t want it any other way Tosh.” He smiled back at you, “I wouldn’t want it any other way either.”

���Good, now tell me what’s on your mind.”

That night, when Ushijima spilled his emotions to you- You could feel your heart race just a little faster than it usually would and when he walked you back to your dorm and patted your head the way he usually would, you couldn’t look him in the eyes because i’d give away how utterly and endlessly in love you where with your best friend.

When graduation came along, tendo had snapped a picture of you and Wakatoshi together, the way he looked down at you as you looked at the camera with desploma in hand, excited to move in with your life. His hand was on the small of your back, something he got used to doing through the years, while your small hand tried reaching to his hip.

The small touch meant a lot to him. You where the first person in his life to accept his bluntness, to accept him for who he really was and we will forever be greatful for you.

When catching up with the former shiratowizawa team, much to their surprise you and ushijima where still not together, romantically that is, but the two of you lived in the same apartment, together... alone.... with no one to bother you. Semi nudge your waist, “So no progress been made?” He asked in a teasing manner. You wacked him with your table napkin. “Keep it down, no one needs to know.” Semi chuckled, “Trust me Y/n everyone knows but Ushijima.” You looked around at the team, they all nodded and agreed, luckly Tendo had taken Ushijima out for a private talk outside. You rolled your eyes and groaned. “Really? Is it that obvious?” They all nodded as Semi laughed at your dipair.

Once Ushijima and Tendo came back from catching up, the new wing spiker for Adlers could tell that you didn’t make eye contact with him through the whole night and the walk home was probably more awkward than ever before. “Goodnight...” You muttered, removing your shoes at the front door and rushing to your room, leaving Ushijima without a word. He raised a brow and slowly made his way to your room but a small sniffle stopped him from turning the door handle. How long had it been since you’ve been since he’s seen you cry. To be exact it was probably when you where kids... but that memory was fresh in his mind because he never liked the sight of seeing you cry. It made him feel... useless.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, contemplating if he should open the door and hold you, or give you some space. Ushijima shoved his hand back into his pocket, he wouldn’t intrude into your privacy like that. But through the night, Ushijima tossed and turned. Why have you been crying? Why didn’t you come in and ask him to give you a hug the way you did back in highschool. He turned one more time before rubbing his eyes and sitting up on the edge, maybe a drink of water could help. He looked at his phone.

2:00 am

He sighed and placed it face down again on his desk before swinging his door open.

The harsh swing of the door scared you as your hand was ready to knock on the wood. He looked down at you and noticed the red discoloration that hid under your eyes while some moonlight shined on you through the window that sat on the end of the hall. Your eyes where wide and shock but your body turned around, and back into your room. Ushijima has never seen you move so quick before. “Y/n.” He called, putting his foot in between the door and the door frame. Even if you moved your fastest, ushijima was always two steps behind ready to catch up. You sighed and looked down at your feet before letting go of the door. “Sorry... you scared me.”

He scared you? That was new.

He looked down at your fingers, which twisted and twirled between each other. “Why are you awake?” You asked him. “I couldn’t sleep.” He answered truthfully. “Oh... yeah- um, me either.”

“Why where you crying?” Ushijima was as blunt as ever, which made you nerveous. “I wasn’t crying, w-who told you I was crying?” You where terrible at lying.

Ushijimas hand cupped your cheek as his thumb carressed so closely to your lower lashes. “You’re eyes are swollen, you’re more is pink... You’re voice is a little groggy... You may know me better than I know myself but i have a few tricks up my sleeve as well.”

“I’m fine Wakatoshi-” To mentally scolded yourself, calling him by his full name was such a dead giveaway. “You only call me Wakatoshi or Ushijima when i’ve done something wrong.... Have i done something wrong?”

You sighed... Maybe tonight would be the night. “No. You haven’t done anything- that, that’s actually the problem.” Ushijima rose a brow. “I don’t quite understand...” Hs stated, of course he didn’t. As much as he was blunt, you had to be blunt back or it would get through that giant head of his. “Toshi- can we do this tomorrow- please.”

“No.”

“I-”

“I’d like to know what you mean, y/n.”

You’re full name... How it sounded so good coming out of his lips instead of others. You sighed and looked down at your feed before fiddling with your fingers.

“idontknowwhenitstartedbutithinkitstartedinhighschoolbutitdoesntreallymatterbecause.... iminlovewithyou.”

Ushijima grabbed cupped your chin and lifted your head, “Look me in the eyes-” you where quick to follow his command, “-and say to me again.” You couldn’t tell of it was the tears brimming in your eyes or a blush slowly crept on Ushijimas cheeks. “Tell me you love me again.” Both hands cupped your face as you have him a light laugh, causing tears to roll down your face. “I’m in love with you...” Ushijima gave you a soft smile when you kissed the palm of his hand. “I am so, endlessly, hopelessly, in love with you.” You repeated looking him in the eyes. “And i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

This is something Ushijima thought he’d never get to experience. Being a hopeless romantic, and for his best friend none the less. You raised yourself on the tips of your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck before pulling him down for a kiss that had been long awaited.

The next morning, when the sun shined through the curtains of your room- you could feel the soft cool breeze that came through the open window you forgot to close. You clenched your hand lightly against soft skin that you could already recognize. Ushijima laid beside you in deep sleep, a white sheet barely covering what kept you so wide awake last night. You snuggled back onto his bare chest and took in his scent, something you had come to not be able to live without.

The way his hands roamed around your body last night was a large progress from the first day you met.

You poked his shoulder, which seemed to be enough to wake him. “Mmm, good morning.” His voice was much deeper than usual, it brought shivers down your spine. “Good morning...” He wrapped his hand around you again and caressed your naked skin as his nose was deep in your hair. “How’d you sleep?” He asked you, his fingers teasing around your waist. “I uh- I slept very well.”

“Tired?” He asked, plating a kiss on the crown of your head before you nodded. “A little...”

“Sore?” You slapped his arm lightly, causing him to let out a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes...”

“Stop it!” You whined, now hiding under your covers. “You didn’t seem to mind last night sweetheart... I would have slowed down if you did.” You’re blush grew deeper. “You’re so embarrassing.” You whine again, as ushijima pulls the sheet away from your face to pinch your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. He gave you a smile, “Would you want it to me some other way?” You eyes twinkled a little, before muttering, “No... I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: IM SO FUCKINGNIN LOVE WITH HIMS FUCK FUCK FUCK

[jj-lynn21]

Stellan interview

"Stellan Skarsgard Is Finally Seizing the Spotlight"

https://www.thedailybeast.com/stellan-skarsgard-is-finally-seizing-the-spotlight

With roles in “Dune,” the Star Wars series “Andor,” and “Hope,” the character actor par excellence has never been more popular. He talks to Marlow Stern about his stellar career.

Few if any actors have built a resume as impressive as that of Stellan Skarsgård.

After achieving teen-idol status in his native Sweden—even releasing a pop single—due to the TV series Bombi Bitt, Skarsgård transitioned to film acting. It was in the mid-’90s, with roles as a sadistic oil rig worker in Breaking the Waves, a fiery abolitionist in Amistad, and a haughty mathematician in Good Will Hunting, that the towering, stone-faced Swede would cross over into America, and establish himself as one of the finest character actors alive.

He’s since maintained a healthy diet of what he calls “experimental films,” including a total of six with Danish auteur Lars von Trier, and Hollywood studio fare, such as the Pirates of the Caribbean and Mamma Mia! films, the Thor and Avengers superhero extravaganzas, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Cinderella. And right now, at the age of 69, Skarsgård is at his most prolific. There was his Golden Globe-winning turn in HBO’s Chernobyl, the upcoming villain in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune, and a main role in the Disney+ Star Wars series Andor, which he’s filming right now in London. Oh, and he’s fathered eight children, including the actors Alexander, Gustaf, Bill, Sam, and Valter.

“There’s no competition, really,” the elder Skarsgård tells me of his talented brood. “There’s some joking competition at the dinner table, but I know they’re better than me, so I’ve given up.”

Skarsgård’s latest is the Norwegian drama Hope. Directed by Maria Sødahl, the wife of his frequent collaborator Hans Petter Moland, it is a heartrending autobiographical film about a long-married couple, Anja (Andrea Bræin Hovig) and her theater-director husband Tomas (Skarsgård), whose atrophying bond is put to the test when Anja develops terminal brain cancer. As they fight for Anja’s survival, the two reevaluate how their relationship went off-course, and why they fell in love in the first place. (The U.S. remake rights were quickly snapped up by Nicole Kidman and Amazon Studios.)

Anne Frank’s Stepsister: How Trump Reminds Me of HitlerNEVER AGAINMarlow Stern

In a wide-ranging conversation, Skarsgård opened up to The Daily Beast about his many great films, the controversy surrounding pal Lars von Trier, being a nudist, and much more.

How have you been passing the time during the pandemic?

In different ways. The first half of the year I was at our summer house on an island outside of Stockholm, and all my kids—who were also actors, most of them, and they weren’t working either—were all out there in two houses eating dinners together, having a good time, and seeing the spring inch-by-inch, everything grew, which you never get time to do otherwise. But this job I’m doing here now [in London], I was supposed to fly back and forth from Stockholm because I’m shooting this Star Wars series called Andor, and it would have been very convenient because it’s only a two-hour flight, but because of the quarantine I’ve been stuck here. For more than a month I’ve been alone in a hotel room staring into the wall.

Speaking of the Skarsgård household, I read a quote from your son Alexander who said that when he was a teenager, “Dad was always walking around [without clothes] with a glass of red wine in his hand.” Was that your vibe during the pandemic?

Not this time! Is it the wine that worries you? [Laughs]

Did the stress of the pandemic make you feel less… free?

No, I’m still taking off my clothes when I get home very often—and my kids also, some of them do. It’s not a big thing. We’re Swedes! And we have no God that says we can’t show our body parts.

What about it do you just find so liberating? I don’t go the full monty but when I go home, I do tend to take off my pants and let loose a little bit, because it is constricting.

If it’s warm enough you don’t need clothes, right? Unless you’re ashamed of your body—or taught to be ashamed of certain body parts. For me, it’s all upbringing. It’s cultural. Some cultures don’t care about what part of the body you show, and some cultures are very precious, and some cultures the women can’t show their faces.  

I’m curious what life was like in the Skarsgård household, because you’ve helped produce so many talented kids. Alexander described it as “bohemian,” similar to what you described during the pandemic, filled with dinner parties and a free-flowing atmosphere.

It’s always been a very open house, and the kids’ friends, it’s been easier to sometimes be in our house than their houses—especially during puberty, when conflicts arise—because we’re very relaxed and non-judgmental in our family. It’s really, truly pleasant. And my kids are more like pals to me. There’s no hierarchical relationship at all. It’s very nice. We just have fun!

It’s a very talented—and frankly, attractive—family. How did this happen?  

How did I make kids that look so good? [Laughs]

Is that something you’re particularly proud of?  

[Laughs] Well, the looks I don’t care so much about, but I’ve had two beautiful wives—and very smart wives—and that’s helped a lot. I’m not going to take much credit for anything. But what I’m proud of is, when I hear from other people in the business about Gustaf or Sam or Bill or Valter or Alexander, I hear that somebody worked with them and they were really nice on the set and totally cool with everybody, and how no matter what menial job anyone had on the set they were nice to them, then I’m proud. If they win awards it’s secondary to that, because that is a lottery anyway. Awards are sort of like reality shows.

They really are a popularity contest. Let’s talk about Hope. It could have very well been called Grief.

I thought it sounded bland to begin with, but in fact the film is about hope—and about love. It’s not a normal cancer film where it’s all about beating the cancer or fighting against it, but it’s about someone who gets a death sentence in a family situation with a lot of kids, like I have, and everything that was petrified in the relationship floats up again. It’s about how they rejuvenate their relationship, and through those horrible circumstances, find love again.

There’s one very powerful scene in the film that really encapsulates many elements and themes that it explores, and it’s the sex scene between you and your wife. It manages to capture the joy of reconnecting as well as the grief you’re experiencing.

I think it’s a great scene, because it starts beautifully—very gently—and it looks like it’s going to be really nice for both of them, and then her anxiety sets in, and things start to bad. And it does go bad pretty fast.

On another level, I’m an American and we don’t see sex very often in movies. And when we do, we don’t see it in the service of such complicated emotions.

With sex in film, it’s difficult, because sex is something that feels fantastic when you do it, and it looks ridiculous when you watch. Those humping movements like a dog? It’s not sexy at all! So, you can’t do a sex scene that looks like it feels, so they always have to be about something else. The sex scenes I had with Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves, it was about her curiosity, because she discovered her first penis, she discovered sexuality, and it was totally about the relationship. The sex was just there. And in this film, the scene is not really about sex but about something else. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sex scene that looks like it feels, and that can convey that beautiful thing that sex can be.

Really, in America, we get almost no sex scenes in movies. And it’s 2021.

It’s very strange. It’s not as bad as during the Hays Code, when you couldn’t let the lips meet for more than one second.

You just had a train going into a tunnel.

[Laughs] Yes, that very subtle image. But in America, you have a strong, strong tradition of bigotry or fear of sexuality. Only two years ago, in nine states in America, it was still illegal to have sex outside of marriage, and my American friends have told me that when they were growing up, it was even regulated how they could have sex—you couldn’t have oral sex or anal sex—so it is so ingrained in American culture that people’s sexuality is not a private thing, but something that everybody should interfere with.

Hope is also an exploration of mortality. Is that something you think about often? 

I’ve never been that interested in it. I’ve always been aware of it. It’s the only thing you know in life—you’re gonna fucking die. But already many years ago, I thought I’d had such a fantastic life that it would only be fair that I died, because I’ve already lived more than most people. So, I don’t feel any injustice in death. And I’m not afraid of death because I’m not religious, so I don’t have to worry about whether I’m going to end up in hell or heaven. But I have small children still, my youngest is 8, and I’m no spring chicken anymore, so I think about how I should stick around for at least another ten years until everything is set.

I read that you’d studied a bunch of religions in the wake of 9/11 and reached the conclusion that it was all sort of bunk.

I grew up with total freedom of religion—my parents weren’t religious, though my grandmother was very religious. It was taught to me without judgment, and it was a very tolerant upbringing I had. But I hadn’t read the Bible. And after 9/11, when I saw George W. Bush standing in front of TV cameras and claiming that God had put him there, I thought maybe it was time to read what they actually believed in. So, I read the Quran and I read the Bible. There are some fantastic stories—as fiction, it’s sometimes brilliant and sometimes boring—but the God in both the Quran and the Bible, there’s only one reason to really worship them, and that is fear. It’s a power that says, “If you don’t worship, you’re going to die—and not only die, but burn in eternity.” It’s a bit autocratic and dictatorial, I would say. It’s very hard for me to worship something under threat.

And if God put George W. Bush in the White House, then God has a very cruel sense of humor.

[Laughs] Yeah, he does. And the latest president said the same thing.

But he doesn’t believe in God. He only believes in himself.

Yeah. I think that if he had more appreciation from the liberals in America, he would have just as well gone populist-liberal.

I think so too. You know, I read that your Dogville co-star Nicole Kidman already picked up the remake rights to Hope for Amazon.

She’s picked up the remake rights, yeah.

Both you and your son Alexander have shared some pretty intense scenes with Nicole. There’s that dramatic scene in Big Little Lies where Nicole hits your son in the dick, and it almost seemed to me like payback for what you put her through in Dogville.

[Laughs] Yeah, I’ve done two films with her and Alexander just finished doing The Northman with her. But she’s lovely. I really like her. She’s so cool.

At least it was a prosthetic and not Alexander’s real thing.

Yeah… coward! [Laughs]

I gotta say, between Chernobyl, Hope, Dune, a Star Wars series, and even a Simpsons cameo as yourself, how does it feel to be at your most prolific at 69?

I’m just working! I’m doing my job and having fun doing it. I’ve been lucky and a lot of good projects have emerged. It goes up and down, you know, throughout life. And I don’t think I could have a better life than I’ve had. I don’t have any regrets. And I don’t have to be the star or be in something very successful, I just have to have fun.

Nice. Do you feel you’re underrated? I think you’re someone who’s so consistently great in everything that it can almost be taken for granted how great you are. I know you won a Golden Globe recently, and that was long overdue, even if it’s mostly bullshit.

I don’t know! I can tell you: it’s much better to be underrated than overrated. So, I’m very comfortable if I am underrated. But I’m a Swede with an accent—or most of the time I have an accent—and for being a Swede with an accent, I have been extremely successful internationally, so I can’t complain. When it comes to the big studio movies, and I’ve been in four or five gigantic franchises that have paid a lot of bills for me, their concerns are financial, and I’m not a ticket-seller. I’m a solid fucking actor, and I’d rather be an actor than a star.  

It gives you the mobility.

Exactly. The freedom I have. I can easily do small, experimental films and strange stuff—films that could ruin another actor’s career—so I’m in a good position.

I wanted to ask you about Breaking the Waves, because it’s the 25th anniversary this year and I consider it a masterful film. And it was Emily Watson’s first film, which is just extraordinary. How did you two establish such strong chemistry?

She’s British, which means she comes from a rather prudish society too, and to take on a role with an obscure Danish director—who wasn’t that famous at the time—and to take on a role with such explicit sex and nudity took enormous courage, but she was fantastic. My job was to love her, and that felt easy, but I think that she felt loved, and I think that she felt secure, which is essential for being able to do anything courageous. But she’s such a brilliant, talented, wonderful woman. I finally got to work with her again in Chernobyl. I mean, you just have to look at her and everything comes.

There’s this longstanding debate over whether Breaking the Waves is misogynistic or not, and I personally find it to be a misreading of the film. I’ve always thought of it as a biblical allegory of sorts about a desperate woman navigating a deeply sexist world.

Absolutely. Lars doesn’t have that in him. Those fantastic female roles that he has written, if you want to defend women in film, you’ve really got to take care of him because he writes the best roles for them. Those roles are very much him, and he definitely doesn’t have a negative attitude toward women. He loves them. There’s a plague of labeling people—not for what they’re really saying, but for what they appear to say. He was stamped as a misogynist and then he made a bad joke about Hitler at Cannes, and everyone stamped him as a Nazi, which is the furthest thing from what he is.  

Stellan Skarsgard and Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves

You stamp people as a “racist,” a “fascist,” a “communist,” I mean this fucking stamping is as smart as QAnon. It’s frightening. The fantastic thing about mankind is that we’re not one thing. We’re all capable of the most brutal and horrible crimes and we’re all capable of love. We do good things and we do bad things. There are nuances. The way of seeing people as “good” or “bad” guys is forcing something upon humanity that is really dangerous, because when you say someone is the “bad” guy then you’re saying you are the “good” guy, and it’s forcing you to not look at your own flaws.

I’m a huge fan of Lars’ films but I think one thing that’s really colored people’s opinion of him are the allegations that Bjork made against him on Dancer in the Dark. You didn’t have the biggest role in that film, but is it something you witnessed?

I’ve never seen him do anything like that. It’s not him. And if you talk to any of the other women who have worked with him over and over again, you will not get those kinds of accusations. But the Bjork and Lars conflict was enormous during the shoot, and it had very little to do with #MeToo. Lars, like all directors, in the end is a control freak, and Bjork has controlled everything in her career—from the music, to the costumes, to the way she sounds—and if two control freaks try to make a film, there will be conflicts. I got phone calls from Lars during the shoot where he was in tears. She left the set several times, and it had nothing to do with sexuality. She tore up her clothes. They had a very difficult relationship. But you’ve gotta pick your toxic males. You can’t put a “toxic male” label on everybody, otherwise it will be watered down, that label.

I’m so excited for Dune. What can you tell me about it? Denis Villeneuve said that your Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is different from the comics or the David Lynch film in that he’s not as much of a caricature but a calmer, more sinister presence.

The thing about it, and why I’m looking forward to this film as well, is because it’s Denis Villeneuve. Whatever he does, he creates an atmosphere that is dense, that you can touch, and you’re just sucked into it. You’re never bored—even if he does long, slow takes. The atmosphere builds up, and you’re in his universe. I think it will be the same with this one. He’s lovely to work with, and a beautiful man. I did eight or ten days on the movie, so my character doesn’t show up for too much, but his presence will be felt. He’s such a frightening presence where even if he doesn’t say anything, I think you’ll be afraid of him. And I’m extremely fat. I had eight hours in the makeup chair every day. And in some scenes, I look very tall because I levitate. You’re going to have a lot of fun with it.

The whole HBO Max day-and-date thing is weird, and I hope as many people as possible get to see the film on the big screen.  

Oh, definitely. I think they made a deal with AT&T—which owns Time Warner, which owns HBO, which owns my phone—that they cut a four-week deal where it’ll be just for the theaters, but I’m not sure. That could change.

I also feel culturally obligated to ask you about Andor, the upcoming Star Wars series you’re in. What’s that about, and who do you play in it?

As you know, they’ll shoot me if I say anything! I can’t even get a proper script. It’s printed on red paper so I can’t make any copies of it, it’s ridiculous! Of course I’ve seen all the Star Wars films, because I’ve had children in the ‘80s, and the ‘90s, and the 2000s, and the 2010s. I’ve had children in five decades, which means you’ve seen all the Star Wars films—and seen all the toys as well. But when I saw Rogue One, it had much more atmosphere and seemed a little more mature—and that was Tony Gilroy, who’s the showrunner on this one. So, hopefully this one will be a little more than little plastic people falling over.

Was a part of the motivation to do Andor to look really cool to your kids?

I do think like that sometimes! I’ll go and do a children’s movie for that reason. But also, I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

Plus, now you can give your kids action figures of yourself and say, “Play with me.”

Fuck yeah. Go play with dad. Don’t disturb him! Go play with him! [Laughs]    

I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

OK, this is kind of a silly question, but do you have a favorite movie death of yours? My favorite has to be in Deep Blue Sea, because in that one you get your arm ripped off by a shark, and then the shark uses your body as a battering ram to destroy this underwater facility.

I would say that is probably, in terms of inventiveness, my favorite one too. It was Renny Harlin. Yeah. I like it! Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend that much time on that stretcher—it was a doll. But it looked really cool! And the sharks weren’t CGI back then. It was mechanical sharks, and they were pretty dangerous. The little boy in me was very excited.

Another movie of yours that I love, for entirely different reasons than some of these other ones we’ve discussed, is Mamma Mia! Is it basically a vacation filming these? I imagine the cast parties are a lot of fun, because it seems like you all are having a ball.

Well, it is. I’m not a singer and I’m not a dancer so I was scared stiff, but the only way to make it work—because it’s not much of a story—is that we had fun doing it, because that joy is contagious to the audience. And we really had fun. It was very relaxed in Greece there on the beaches, and the parties we had there were very good too. It was a nice bunch of people to hang with.

When the cast of Mamma Mia! goes wild in Greece, who is the one that parties the hardest? Who’s the VIP?

It depends what you mean by partying! I usually get pretty drunk. Down there, Colin [Firth] and I were pretty good at it. And at those parties, we also had 50 dancers in their twenties, and they had much more stamina.

I have to ask: Will the gang get back together for a third one?

I don’t know! It took 10 years between number one and number two, so if it takes another ten years, I don’t know. Some of us may just be there in urns, with our ashes!

You released a pop single in the ‘60s, right?

Yes. When I was 16, I became extremely famous in Sweden. We had one TV channel back then and I did this TV series, and it was like being a rock star. But it meant also that all kinds of shady people thought they could make money off me. So, this guy calls me from Stockholm and says, “Stellan, can you sing?” And I said, “No.” And he said, “Well, try it!” And then I hear this guitar on the other end of the line, I go, “Ahh!” and then he goes, “Perfect! Come over to Stockholm.” I went to this very shady studio in the suburbs and we recorded it, and then the guy who was running the project said, “I listened to the tape now, and I think it’s better if I sing and you speak on the record.” So, I don’t sing on the record. But there were very cruel headlines in Sweden. One paper had a headline that read, “Stellan Skarsgård, who we loved on this TV series, we don’t like anymore.”

That’s so mean! In addition to Breaking the Waves, another film that really raised your profile in the United States was Good Will Hunting—which holds up remarkably well. Some of my favorite scenes in that film are the ones where you and Robin Williams are jousting. And I know he’s a wild card, so what was it like shooting those?

He really is a wild card because anything can come out of him, and he can say anything and do anything, and he has this urge to do it because he has these three parallel brains that are constantly working on finding something funny or interesting. Sometimes, even when we would do ten takes and everybody would be happy with them, he’d say, “I have to get something out of my body,” so we would do one extra for that. You didn’t know what you’d experience when the camera would start rolling—you just had to dance with it. And it was fantastic. He was such a lovely man and had no ego. He was just a volcano of creativity and ideas.

Do you ever think about your legacy? You not only have a bunch of talented children but also have amassed such a strong body of work.

The thing is with legacy: you won’t be able to enjoy it, so just forget it. No, I don’t. And it doesn’t matter. If you’re extremely successful, it takes a decade and you’re gone from people’s minds. You can only hope that your children remember you for a couple of years, at least!

Well, they’ll have the Star Wars toys, at least.

They’ll have the toys! That’s right. [Laughs]

[caxsthetic]

WEDDING BAND — Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Type: Standalone Movie (One-Shot Fiction)

Cast: Kuroo Tetsurou

Storyline: High school reunion was the best time to catch up with old times. But you could never be ready to meet him again, even after eight years already went by.

Genre: Drama, Slice of Life

You took a step backward, making him let out a sigh as he knew that he was reaching out for something that was never there. Hope, a second chance. Yet he said it, digging his mindless dream that maybe there could be something. Maybe not now, maybe someday.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened as you contemplated once again.

Was it a good choice to come here? It had been such a long time since the last time you met up with your high school friends, of course, you wanted to meet them. But you remembered a conversation on the group chat three days ago — when your friend suddenly brought up a name.

A name that was long forgotten, buried deep inside your mind.

Was it seven? Eight? You didn't count anymore how many years went by after graduation. After that fateful day where you decided to break it all off with him, you never once thought about him, feeling certain whatever choice you made was final and valid.

But somehow, you were not ready to meet him. It was not like you were still head over heels over that man, you didn't even bother to ask around how he was after you left, or what he was doing for his adulthood.

You already moved on.

Yes, you were. Those were the words that you chanted at the back of your head. You unlocked the car and got out in a haste. Your fingers skimmed the wrinkles on your skirt, smoothing it up a little before checking your hair one more time, wanting to make sure you look decent.

You have no one to impress, you do this for yourself, honey.

Blowing a kiss to your reflection on the window car, you smiled confidently before striding towards your high school's gymnasium, chin held high as you greeted whoever familiar faces that you remembered.

The second you walked inside the area, you felt a sudden blow of nostalgia knitting it's way back to your heart. You remembered how you tended to be here, sitting on the bench as you cheered your former lover every time he had a practice.

You even remembered the things that happened inside the locker room when everyone already went home. A little rendezvous filled with heavy pants and teeth clashing to each other — such hormonal teenagers, the two of you used to be.

Shaking your head, you decided to look around, wanting to see your friends that you only met daily through a video call. They were all screaming when they knew you were coming back, that you finally would live in Japan again after such a long time embarking on a journey in a foreign country.

It was such a miracle really, that you somehow could get a scholarship in one of the coldest countries in the world. You were not the smartest student on Nekoma before, but you applied anyway, filling all the requirements and wished for the best.

Three months later and you got a mail from the benefactor, you were so happy that you could make your parents proud, jumping throughout your house as you shouted that you were in, happy tears cascading down your cheek when you called your boyfriend with excitement lingering on your voice, telling him that you were one step closer to your dream.

And you still remembered how your smile faltered the second you heard his answer.

"Oh, congratulations."

Him and his unusual tone that was fall flat, hanging up the call before you could answer some more.

You knew it was the right thing to break things off. From the very first start, he didn't want to try. Ever since then your relationship with him was like leaves in autumn, waiting for the wind to make it fall to the ground.

And the graduation day was the time when the wind finally knocked things off.

Shaking your head, you flicked your own forehead not to let your mind wander, focusing on the task of finding your group of friends.

Your feet brought you to a bar that the committee set up right under the basketball ring. A familiar dark brown hair that belonged to your friend moved slightly as she gulped down a shot down her throat.

Always a heavy drinker, that friend of yours.

"Honey-pie!" She screeched the second she had a proper look at you. Her breath already reeked with alcohol, making you chuckle in amusement with how wasted she was (even though the reunion just started less than an hour ago). "Goodness, my dear! Look at you!"

She slurred a little, your other friends praising you and made your presence to be showcased with a spotlight. It didn't take long for the others coming around, asking how life was, how it was to move overseas, or even how many flings you had for around seven years in another nation.

"Oh, please, you know I am not like that." You hummed in delight after sipping a glass of cocktail that the bartender made for you. "I am a very loyal woman, never prancing around once my heart’s set for someone."

"Ah, a certain former captain?" Your drunk friend retorted, making you flinch a little as you understood her reference. Another one of your friends (who was the mature, and completely sober one) nudged her hips. "Fuck, sorry, forget I said anything."

You didn't know if it was because of the alcohol or the way his name was mentioned that your throat suddenly felt so dry. It was the alcohol, you reassured yourself, feeling certain nothing was going on inside your heart.

"I-I need a breather." So why did you run away? You couldn't understand yourself too sometimes as you drank the cocktail down your throat and left the scene.

It was immature for you to do that, you didn't mean to make your friend feel guilty. And you could only hope that they would understand, that whatever state you were in right now was solely because of yourself, no one else was at fault except you.

You ran outside from the back exit, catching your breath as you felt like you wanted to throw up. Running with alcohol in your blood and a full digestive system was a bad idea.

"Long night?"

And somehow a voice that slipped in your ear triggered it all.

He was frantic when you suddenly threw up, making him run back inside the gym to grab you a glass of water. This was not the reunion that he thought he would have.

With you still gagging out some alcohol, forcing it out of your stomach, you felt a familiar hand resting on your back. Gentle palm went up and down on the surface of your shirt, trying to ease you from another urge of nausea.

Funny how he was probably the main reason why you threw up in the first place, yet the reason why you calmed down too.

You straightened your posture as you felt that you were alright. He immediately retracted his hand away, stepping aside a little to give you some space. This was not the reunion that you thought you would have.

There was no intention for you to talk to him. It was clear that he wanted nothing to do with you when you never received any messages from him. You tried to reach out, once when you came home for a few days, but he never answered back, he never let you in again.

"Goodness." You muttered softly, calming down your heartbeat while taking a few deep breaths before finally dared to take a look at him. "Thank you, Kuroo."

He grimaced a little, making you raise one of your eyebrows in confusion. Was he feeling that cringe when you called his name? Should you just not acknowledge him at all? You pondered as you waited for his response, a few seconds felt like an eternity.

"That feels strange." His hand went to the back of his head, sighing as he fixed his composure.

"Huh? What strange?"

"You called me by my last name." His words made you wonder, making a pout to slip on your face. "I know it's been years," and 'us' was long gone. "But it's still strange, you know?"

You blinked, didn't expect him to casually act buddy-buddy with you. Shouldn't you be angry that he acted like you were still friends? Where was he when you tried to reach out, he was never there. And he had the audacity to make you feel that you were still in high school all over again.

"O—kay…" But you shrugged off the feeling, trailing your words as you bit your lips before the both of you fell to an awkward silence.

Awkward was something that never existed when the two of you were together. At least it never did before, and you were not surprised it was here right now. This was how it was supposed to be, right?

When two former lovers see each other after cutting ties for years, the awkwardness was normal. You wanted to just run away, get back to your friend, or go anywhere since you thought other places were better as long as you were not with him alone.

But as you were deep in thought, you didn't know when he took off his blazer. You were too busy thinking of an escape plan that you didn't realise it until the blazer was weighing on your shoulder, resting there to shield you from the night breeze.

This was unfair.

The way he dropped his blazer without thinking, tugging it on your shoulder, and patted your back before pulling away once again,

He was being unfair to your heart.

"W-what—"

"How was America? You were in California, right?" He asked nonchalantly as if he didn't just give you his blazer to warm you up. "Heard it was kinda freezing if it was not summer, and I know you are someone who couldn't handle cold."

You subconsciously gripped on his blazer, sniffling the familiar scent that even now — still made you feel at home.

"Yeah, it was cold most of the time." Chuckling, you tried to just enjoy the moment. Finally surrendering to the position you were in right now. "But it was alright, I have a heater in the dorm. So it's fine! I like it there, the scenery, the cafe, and I met someone there too, maybe you know him—"

The night wasn't supposed to be like this. You chat with your former boyfriend, catching up on all the years that went by as if there was never a huge gap separating you and the black-haired man.

It was so easy, all the words and laughs poured like a broken dam. Inching closer and closer, not even one realised that the two feet gap now turned into none — as your shoulder brushed with his, and both of you just let everything unfold.

Maybe if he leaned in, you would do the same.

"I didn't expect you here, to be honest." The laugh that you shared had now died down. "You moved overseas, and I am pretty sure you wouldn't come back." His voice sounded so restrained as he just looked forward, didn't glance at you that was standing right beside him.

You eyed him carefully, swallowing a huge lump as you could feel all the longing feelings started to come back to the surface. You couldn't, you couldn't let it happen. The reunion was to have fun, not to rekindle the love that could never work.

But it was already happening, right now, even maybe since he had his palm on your back to calm you down.

"Yet, you came back." The restrain on his voice now changed, turned into a melancholic tone. "It took you eight years. Eight years was actually not a long time when I think about it." You knew you should have bid farewell right now.

Now, before the dam breaks completely and couldn't be mended anymore.

"I should have waited for you, you know?" No, no. "Eight years was nothing when it came to someone who's in love."

You took a step backward, making him let out a sigh as he knew that he was reaching out for something that was never there. Hope, a second chance. Yet he said it, digging his mindless dream that maybe there could be something. Maybe not now, maybe someday.

What he said was something that he should have buried, knowing the circumstances.

But he didn't regret it. As he turned his head to face you once again, even though you were standing one foot apart from him with eyes that screamed how dare you, he could see how at the same time you wanted to run up to him, circling your arms around his neck to crash your lips on his.

He knew, he could see it because it was the same look that you gave to him all those years ago when you and he were just young, stupid, teenagers.

"Tetsurou, I—"

"Hey, (Y/n)!"

Both of you jolted when a familiar voice of your friend rang from the door. It was all gone in an instant; the magic, the love that aired once again before, it dissipated into thin air. And neither you and he were ready to come back to reality.

But maybe it was for the best.

It was for the best.

"Sorry if I disturbed you, but hey, Kuroo! I am gonna steal her for a sec, a photo group!" You chuckled softly at how your friend flailed her arms, begging you to join her. "I will run back inside to inform them that you are in!"

She was like a firework, reminding you of Kuroo's best friend from another school. One that you remembered was now a professional volleyball player.

"I-I will go back inside." You said softly under your breath, averting your gaze as you took off the blazer that still wrapped around you. So slow as you wanted the warmth to last. "See you around, Kuroo."

It was back to square one as you gave back the black fabric. Clutching on it a little too tight before bowing your head to give some respect. This was for the best, either you or he knew that. So he didn't stop you, he didn't stop you from slipping away once again, knowing for sure that there was no way you would come back to his arms — not after what he did.

But he didn't expect you to turn around once again, facing him as you played with the bag strap on your chest. He let out a small chuckle under his breath, knowing how you didn't change at all, always playing with your bag strap or clothes when you were nervous.

He stood there in silence, wondering what you were going to say as he wore his blazer again. Fixing up the button slowly as he waited. You finally parted your lips, closing them before opening up once again, eyes locked with his.

"If I choose to stay back then, do you think we would have a chance?"

The question knocked the air out of his lungs. Of course, of course, you and he would have a chance. It would be so much easier, he would go to your university every now and then, catching up would be so easy, it would last, the relationship that you have with him since the first year of high school would—

"Maybe, maybe yes and maybe not." He shut his heart, using his head to answer your question instead. "We will never know, I guess. It wouldn't happen, so don't dwell too much with it, okay?"

He said it for you, and for himself.

Both of you were an adult now. Not everything could be changed by I love you anymore. It was the real world, no one could go back to the past as much as they wanted to. And his firm answer made you smile, slowly locking the memory with him back to the deepest part of your heart, in hope that you wouldn't have to find it ever again.

"Then," You cleared your throat, smiling so wide as if you didn't just ignore the love that you harboured towards the man in front of you. "Farewell, Kuroo."

And he nodded, giving you a salute. As if he didn't just shed a tear (one that he immediately erased with his thumb subtly) as he knew it was a farewell to his first love. No, to his love.

Both of you just stood there in silence, neither of you willing to avert each other. He tried to remember this, painting the moment to keep forever. How you smiled for him — just for him — how it never changed even after years went by.

And you, you noted how much he had grown. That life sculpted him to where he was right now. He lived a happy life, he stayed in the volleyball world, his passion. He was successful, this was something that you wanted to believe was enough for you.

Your eyes met with his, smiling there like an idiot, capturing the moment one last time — before both pairs of orbs fell to the left hand of each other. The two of you met with a truth, a reminder that life must go on, even though sometimes it was led in the unwanted direction.

Such a simple warning, mute, and stayed still.

Yours was silver, and he was gold.

"Farewell, Iwaizumi-san."

MASTERLIST

“And It Cracks” Taglist:

@roseestuosity @mistypoison @samanthaa-leanne @tycrackculture @cactuski6 @aomineavenue @tris-does-stuff @tremblinghearts @too-many-lanes @sunflwrsandprettyskies @ntimacy @ch4jime @tsukkiboii @oikawoahh @hoefor2ds @edvigelacivetta @playboygeniusphilanthropist @wompwomphq @himichii ​ @chibichab​ @shoyomeow​ @miyayane​ @shinhiromi @p0taytoes @lilolpotato @tetsuskitten @shrimpypenis @pharvhs @ilhy2003 @kuro0luvr @mrs-kuroojinguji

Strikethrough couldn't be tagged! I am sorry, please provide me with another url or check the setting!

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack, smut.  explicit.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities. 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020.  12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show.  How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice.  It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter. 

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.  

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,”  you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola.  It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry.  I’ve been so busy.  Things have just been—”  Crazy?  Out of this world?  Some kind of wonderful?  “—hectic.”  He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek.  It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind. 

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants.  “It’s fine , Jay.”  The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help.  “I know you’re a busy guy.  Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks.  You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances.  A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts. 

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying.  Not at first, anyway.  But when he does?  He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter.  So you were a little bit better than him.  “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”  

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self.  He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.  

“You’re mean,”  he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it.  “And yet you love it.”  

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice.  He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?”  You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his.  It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago.  “I’m good, yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You sure?  I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.  

“Yes, Mom .”  

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!” 

“Do you even know how old I am?”  Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.  

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged.  They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages?  Where you grew up?  Your real names?  That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen?  Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?”  You’re chuckling at your own genius.  He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve .  Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him.  It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing. 

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”  

It’s a joke.  Obviously , it’s a joke.  He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry.  It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too.  “I have something to tell you.”  There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity.  Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push.  “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.”  A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted.  You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent.  He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening.  “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…”  How does he start?  “I’m not just… some guy.”  Okay, that sounds bad.  He’s backtracking.  “I mean, I’m a guy.  I’m normal.”  This is going so poorly.  His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip.  “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy.  I’m actually like, uh...”  

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly.  He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.  

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart. 

“Jinny?”  It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation.  Still, nothing.  He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way.  “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own.  You’re trying to be serious, he thinks.  “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?” 

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.”  A beat.  He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission.  “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”  

Dammit.  Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault.  It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!”  He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”  

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.”  He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice.  Somehow, it feels different.  Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity.  “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?”  Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”  

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him.  “Of course not.  You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this.  He’s a million miles over the moon.  You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.  

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ?  Didn’t you hear what I just said?”  There’s no venom in your words.  “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.”  There’s that unabashed need to hear his name.  He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.” 

“Is your real name Jinny?”  He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin.  Jinny’s just my nickname.”  

“Well, Jinny—”  He says it dragged out and silly.  “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first.  He snorts.  “I live in Seoul .”  

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked.  It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”  He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more.  At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020.  10 PM.

Does he smell bad?  Should he have showered first?  Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail.  They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?”  Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.  

“Are you nervous?”  Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face.  He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.  

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring.  “Of course he is.”  Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!”  The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.  

“Shouldn’t you get going?”  It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet.  He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on.  The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room. 

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love.  He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.”  You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it.  It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet.  There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun.  His heart stutters in his chest.  He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance.  It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.  

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband. 

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are.  It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist.  You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.  

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed.  He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.  

“I’m so sorry,”  he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.  You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.  

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume.  Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home.  You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips.  Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw.  He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”  The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence.  They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head.  He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas.  It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district. 

“Your laugh is even better in person.”  You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.  

“Yeah?”  Can you see the hearts in his eyes?  He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils. 

“Yeah.  But don’t let that get to your head, mister.” 

“Already has - sorry.”  

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. 

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.  

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red;  how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty.  He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour.  You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny.  You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down.  You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.  

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face.  There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him.  You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on. 

“Open up!”  

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough.  He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting.  He probably looks stupid as hell.  

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound. 

“Too hot?”  You coo, feigning surprise.  You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you.  “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing.  It burns on the way down.  “You eat one now.”  He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.  

“I don’t like squid,”  you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours.  You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago.  He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.  

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food.  You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen.  He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover.  You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?”  You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip.  He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you.  “Of course.” 

“I won’t post it anywhere.”  

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t.  Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth.  You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,”  you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose.  “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his.  You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb.  It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.  

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp.  “No need,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you.  He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

“We’ll see about that,”  you return, equally as soft.  

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.  

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again.  It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.  

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills.  He should’ve booked you something later in the day.  Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea? 

“Right.”  He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides.  He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now.  The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move.  It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart. 

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.  

“Did you have fun?”  He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab.  You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.”  There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,”  he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back.  It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.”  There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection.  Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall.  Mozart would be proud. 

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud.  The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening.  He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.  

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard.  “I know.”  

“You do?”  He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.”  You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin.  “Can I kiss you?”  Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.  

“Hm.”  The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.  

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined.  It’s better than his wildest dreams.  It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful.  You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River. 

“I’m sorry.”  It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet.  “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”  

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation.  He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this.  He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible.  Needs it like he needs air - or more of you.  Either or.

“Thanks.”  

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers.  He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down. 

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor.  You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours.  He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.”  A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.  

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020.  2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior.  There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else.  No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.  

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival.  Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away.  You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,”  Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily.  “You haven’t even been inside.  Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back.  It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.  

“It’s a candle,”  you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.  

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”  

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots.  “What for?  Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has.  I know your birthday.”

Right.  Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge. 

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical.  He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear. 

“I had them before I met you.” 

“Right.”  It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him.  This is how the two of you are.  Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity. 

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?” 

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold.  If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.  

“Fine, fine.  Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride.  It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him.  You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary.  There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him.  There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece;  there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground. 

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space.  Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti.  A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should.  Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact.  There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen:  limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise). 

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?”  He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles.  You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank. 

“Maybe.” 

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork?  Really?” 

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up. 

“What’re you doing?”  You join him even as you ask.  He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.  

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”  

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer.  He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?”  Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure.  It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love.  You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm. 

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?” 

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd.  He doesn’t mind, though.  He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.  

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube.  He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?”  Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows. 

“No.”  Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.  

“Why not?”  

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear.  It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.”  He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle.  He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves. 

“Better?”  You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world. 

“Much,”  he hums, unashamed.  

“Welcome home, Kook.”  The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest.  He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.  

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet.  There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room.  It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game. 

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game.  He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in.  He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew. 

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.”  He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.  

You don’t move.  He wonders when the last time you slept was. 

“Jinny,”  he repeats himself, a little louder this time.  There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions.  “Do you want me to take you to bed?”  

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,”  you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”  

“Nothing, nothing.”  You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations.  It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of. 

Get it together , he scolds himself.  In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No!  Not yet.”  You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly.  It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.  

“You want to sleep out here?”  He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.  

“No!”  A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face.  You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely.  There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch.  He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair.  “I have a gift for you.”  

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.  

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken.  He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes.  He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?”  You’re looking at him with the strangest expression.  He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does.  It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him.  “I do.”  

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart.  It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.  

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.  

When he kisses you this time, it’s different.  It’s urgent but not rushed;  he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations.  His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours.  You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw.  Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose.  He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach.  Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.  

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.”  You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most.  He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap.  “You’re my dream girl, you know that?”  The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in. 

“You’re not too bad yourself.”  You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands. 

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind.  You really could read him like a book.  He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.  

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,”  you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,”  he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.  

“Show me how sorry.”  

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south.  He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.”  The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you. 

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan.  “Seriously - dream girl.”  

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church.  They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh.  His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.  

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?”  He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile. 

You’re impatient though - always have been.  “Straight down the hall.  Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight.  Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen.  He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,”  he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.”  You say it a lot.  He wonders if you really know. 

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea.  It’s not enough, though.  He wants to show you - needs to show you. 

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious.  “Are you sure you know?”  The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes.  “Maybe?”  You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do.  It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?”  He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach.  It’s like a switch has flipped.  For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour.  A force to be reckoned with .  “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer.  You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?”  You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen.  But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one. 

“Yes,”  you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted.  There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed.  You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,”  he says simply.  It’s gone before you can think twice.  Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”  

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was.  The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.  

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist.  “Please don’t hide from me.” 

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?”  He means your tattoos, of course.  They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream.  There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink.  Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green.  Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows.  He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.  

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.  

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion.  You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.”  He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out.  “My mom’s a big gardener.  She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?”  The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?”  That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way.  You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,”  he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,”  you retort - or try to at least.  You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with. 

“ Nicer , baby.”  

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close.  He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily.  It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening;  it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say. 

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat. 

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong.  He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds.  He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth.  He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.  

“Can you do that for me?”  He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.  

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting.  “What?”  

“I said—”  It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain.  He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries.  “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion.  It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.  

“Kook.”  You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life.  Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.” 

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him.  Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought.  You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—”  He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.   

“What do you need?  Ask nicely.”

“M-more.  I need m-more .”  A hiccup.  “Please.”  

“Like this?”  You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat.  “Or like this?”  The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times.  “Maybe like this?”  

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.”  Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system.  He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.  

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,”  he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb.  Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him.  He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.  

“Give me another, okay?”  

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit.  The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers.  There’s too much stimulation.  You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook.  Jungkook .”  His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips.  He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot.  He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving. 

“Come on, baby.  Let go.”  The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut.  You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort.  “That’s my girl.”  

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you.  He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest. 

“You did so good.”  

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.  

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.  

“I want you.”  

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest.  “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.  

“I know what you meant,”  he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately.  “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep.  Patience is key, remember?” 

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there.  It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed.  “Fine.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.”  It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave.  “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly.  “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs.  He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.”  You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more.  Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly.  The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place.  “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes.  the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic).  this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it.  i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple.  as always, let me know your thoughts.  xo

tag list.  @letmebeyour-sun​ @teawithbucky​

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Part 4

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: depression

Words: 2.2k

Summary: to everyone she knew, [y/n] was a peasant, destined to be a servant just like her parents. To Zuko, however, she was his best friend. After losing his agni kai and being exiled, [y/n] was devastated. She thought she would never see him again. Three years later, she almost wished he never came back.

A/N: here it is! I finally got it out after a busy few weeks :)

Part 3 <- Part 4 -> Part 5

Series | Masterlist

[Y/n] clutched at her chest. Her breathing suddenly became short and shallow. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest.

“W-what?” [Y/n] croaked. Her face contorted in confusion and shock.

“I know. It’s just horrible, isn’t it?” Azula lamented.

[Y/n] was speechless, but her mind rambled rampantly. What happened to him? How did he go missing? Was he taken? By who? Where would he be? She had so many questions, but it wasn’t her place ask any of them.

“But it’s strange,” Azula continued, putting a long, sharp fingernail to her chin, “the day Zuko disappeared, he wrote Mai a break up letter. It’s almost like he left on his own accord, like it was planned...”

But...why would he leave? [Y/n] was puzzled, and Azula, as perceptive as she always was, knew exactly what she was thinking.

“We called you here because we hoped you knew something that we didn’t. You are his best friend, of course. But, according to what you said, he didn’t give you any notice that he was leaving. What a pathetic way to treat his best friend,” she remarked.

“I’m so sorry, Princess Azula and Firelord Ozai. I really wish I could help.”

Azula turned her back to [y/n]. “Father, is there anything you’d like to say?”

Firelord Ozai silently shook his head. He never spoke a word, yet [y/n] felt terrified by the man, and the silent gesture sent shivers down her spine. Azula turned back around to face [y/n]. “You’re dismissed.”

On her way home, [y/n] did her best to hold herself together and remain calm. Some tears managed to escape. But once she got home, she collapsed. Streams of tears coated her face and neck. She choked on her sobs. She felt so many emotions, but, most of all, she was in utter disbelief.

Zuko was gone. Again.

This time he left on his own. But why? Was he really that unhappy? He had so many wonderful things: royalty, honor, prestige, riches and wealth, his lavish home--a royal palace--and a beautiful girlfriend among so many other things. Was it not enough?

Regardless of the reason, [y/n] felt just as devastated as she did three years ago. Only this time she blamed herself for being so upset. Not only did she push him away over something completely stupid, she also took their friendship for granted.

Zuko was [y/n]'s only real friend, and, despite being royalty, he was always so kind to her. She wanted to kick herself for not spending time with him that one day. She should've accepted the offer. She should've gotten over her dumb feelings.

Now, once again, [y/n] didn't know if she would ever see him again.

Days passed. Then, days turned to weeks. And weeks to months.

Like three years ago, it was hard to get out of bed, it was hard to eat anything, it was hard to focus on simple tasks. Some days, she felt sadness. Other days, it was anger. On rare occasions, she felt content, until grief would knock her down like a tidal wave.

[Y/n] kept the letter Zuko wrote to her under her pillow. It was the only thing she had left of him...a relic of a recent past, a brief reunion, that felt so long ago. At night, she would gingerly trace the paint brushed characters with her finger. And when she cried, she made sure her tears never touched the ink so that she could trace them again the next day.

Like three years ago, [y/n] faced reality and came to terms with what happened. Maybe her and Zuko were never meant to be. Or maybe the universe gave her what she wanted all those months ago: distance from the prince to kill her love for him.

Another evacuation of the city was ordered. This time, [y/n] had no idea why. She didn’t speak to her parents as often as she used too, and, with what happened recently, her mother was extra cautious about gossiping around her. [Y/n] didn’t expect anything crazy to happen anyway. They would leave, they would come back, and that would be it.

But when [y/n] and her parents marched through the streets back to their apartment, they saw something incredibly unusual. Messenger hawks were cawing and soaring all across the skies, and people in different colored clothing were bustling about all over the city. It was like they stumbled into a whole different world.

Groups of people wearing shades of green were earthbending to repair burned buildings. A few people in shades of blue were gently waterbending on people who appeared to be injured.

[Y/n] was amazed. She had only heard about other forms of bending; this was her first time seeing them with her own eyes. She had also never seen such beautiful garbs either. All of her life had been spent living in the Fire Nation, which was like living in a bubble. She genuinely had no idea what the rest of the world was like aside from what her parents had told her, which was not a lot.

[Y/n] was also confused. What’s going on? Why are they here? What happened? She wasn’t the only one who was puzzled. Her parents and all the other Fire Nation citizens looked just as confused as her. Particularly, the nobles seemed frustrated. Perhaps it was best not to question it.

As [y/n] and her parents quietly made their way to the apartment, they overheard lots of chatter...

“...Ozai imprisoned...” “...Sozin’s comet...” “...burn down Ba Sing Se...” “...Avatar Aang...” “...Azula should be next...” “...the last airbender...” “...just a group of kids...” “...this is treachery...”

And when they reached their home, they were met with a messenger hawk perched on their window. Her father removed the letter from the hawk’s leg. After a quick glance, he smiled widely and handed the letter to [y/n].

“It’s for you,” he told her cheerfully. [Y/n] raised an eyebrow and took it. She unrolled the parchment and, immediately, her eyes widened. She recognized the handwriting.

Dear [y/n], I hope you’re well. I’m so sorry for disappearing without saying anything. I can explain, in fact, I have so much I want to tell you! Before I do, I want to invite you to my coronation ceremony. Yes, you read that right! I’m going to be the next Firelord! If anyone should be at the ceremony, it should be you. I hope to see you there! Your friend, Zuko

[Y/n] stared at the letter, jaw slacked.

“[Y/n], sweetie, are you okay?” [Y/n]’s mother delicately placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I can’t believe it...” she shook her head at the letter. “Zuko is back, and he’s going to be Firelord!”

A long, scarlet red tunic draped over [y/n]’s body. The ends of the fabric trailed behind her through the air. Her shoes clacked on the marble flooring, sending echoes down the hallways of the palace. Her [h/c] hair was coiled into a bun and held together with a single, long, gold colored pin.

For the first time in a long time, [y/n] held her head high and stood straight when she walked. She did a complete 180. Her best friend had returned and she was more than excited to see him again. Today was Zuko's coronation ceremony, as well as a second chance to tell him how she really felt.

Sure, Mai and Zuko had a brief relationship when he first returned, and maybe that break up letter was just a way out. But what if it wasn't? And besides, [y/n] was tired of being sad and pathetic. She wanted to tell him. No, she needed to tell him, she had to get it off her chest, and she was not going to waste this opportunity.

The reception was held in the palace ballroom. It was a grand room, perfect for the size of the large crowd that appeared at the ceremony. Paper lanterns and drapes of all colors hung from the walls and ceiling, giving it a festive atmosphere. A small band played soft, up-beat music in the background. Some people danced, some mingled and others ate food that [y/n] could smell from the moment she walked in.

[Y/n] searched the sea of green and blue for red. It wouldn't be hard considering how few of her own people attended the coronation (so few, they stuck out like sore thumbs). Then, she spotted him, the new, young Firelord, speaking to a group of people that appeared to close in their age.

“[Y/n]!" Zuko called, waving his hand. "I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Of course, I made it. I would never miss your coronation,” [y/n] said, hugging Zuko before continuing more quietly, “especially after you disappeared again.”

“I know. I’m sorry, [y/n], I had to do it. But I should’ve told you. You of all people deserved to know,” he quietly responded in her ear.

Zuko tightened his embrace before pulling away and looking at [y/n] apologetically. She gave him a nod and small smile. [Y/n] didn't have the full context of what happened, but she knew her friend was sincere in his apology (though, that didn't diminish the pain she had felt).

“There are some people I want you to meet. These are my friends.”

Zuko gestured to the group of teens and kids he was just talking to. A Water Tribe boy and girl who were siblings, two Earth Kingdom girls—one with lots of makeup on and one who was blind—and, of course, the Avatar himself.

“It’s so nice to meet you all, especially you, Avatar Aang. It’s an absolute honor,” [y/n] said, bowing respectfully. Aang beamed and bowed in return.

“Soooo, Zuko, is this the girl you were talking about?” The Water Tribe boy, Sokka barely whispered, nudging Zuko with his elbow.

Zuko chuckled, “yeah, this is [y/n]. We've known each other for years. Now, if you'll excuse us,” Zuko spoke to his friends before turning to [y/n], “I believe we have some catching up to do.”

“Oh, yes we do!” [Y/n] said with glee.

Together they departed the group and walked out onto the balcony.

Outside, the sun was setting, radiating gold and orange hues, which merged into the deep blue sky up above. Only a few of the brightest stars in the sky sparkled. Down below, Caldera City glittered with lanterns, outlining the streets and houses of their people.

[Y/n] admired the view. It certainly wasn't often that she got to see the city like this. Then, Zuko began talking.

Three years was a long time, and this conversation proved it. It was long overdue. Neither of them realized how much time had passed, but, to them, it felt like they talked for hours outside.

Zuko explained everything as promised: the hundred year war, what banishment was like, what the outside world was like, how he really felt when he came home, when he realized that his father was an abusive, cruel leader and that his destiny was to help the Avatar, how he escaped, and all of the incredible adventures he had with his new friends, including the historic defeat of Azula and Ozai during Sozin’s comet.

[Y/n] was flabbergasted. “Wow...that’s...just...I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Zuko asked, leaning his forearms on the balcony railing.

“Yeah. I had no idea we were such a horrible country. We've been lied to and sheltered this whole time. It all makes sense now.” Zuko hummed in agreement.

“You’re so brave for leaving and going against your family. It must’ve been hard and really dangerous.”

“You have no idea.” Zuko looked into the distance and slowly shook his head. “But it all worked out, and I’m back—for good this time!”

"Well, you have no idea how glad I am about that!"

Zuko smiled and placed his hand on [y/n]'s shoulder, giving it a gentle rub.

"So, there's something I want to talk to you about," Zuko continued in a more serious tone. [Y/n]'s head perked up.

"Okay. I actually have something I want to tell you too, but you go first," [y/n] said. Her heart already began to race in anticipation.

"Well, I was thinking. You've been my best friend for a really long time…"

Suddenly, [y/n]'s palms sweated and her heart picked up the pace. She gulped.

"So, I was wondering if you'd like to—"

“Zuko! There you are.”

[Y/n] turned toward the doorway. She felt Zuko immediately retract his hand from her shoulder at the sight of a woman. A tall woman wearing a beautiful, wine colored, silk robe, whose dark hair was bunched up into two buns.

Mai.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” Mai walked up to Zuko’s side and wrapped her arms around his bicep.

“Sorry, Mai. I was just catching up with [y/n],” Zuko replied.

“I see.” Mai turned to [y/n]. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, um, it’s good to see you too.” [Y/n] couldn’t tell if Mai was being genuine or not. Likely, she wasn’t.

“Well, I hope you don’t mine me stealing Zuko from you. He promised to dance with me tonight,” Mai said, cupping his cheek. The two smiled at each other.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten," Zuko said. "[Y/n], we’ll talk later, okay?”

“Yeah...”

And she watched the two walk away, arms linked.

[blu-joons]

DATING GOT7 HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴ Choi Youngjae

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Youngjae is very shy with his affection, he uses it to create a safe space for him around you. He loves to cuddle you and spend as much time as possible as close to you as he can, it’s his happy place, and it’s where he wants to be.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

Everyone could see that Youngjae had quickly taken a liking to you by how shy he became. Even his laugh was a lot quieter than usual as he didn’t want to do anything that would make you think he was strange. All of the members, especially Jackson, were pushing him to speak to you, always assuring him that he had to trust in them, and you.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

With the boy’s words in the back of his mind, eventually Youngjae approached you. He instantly relaxed around you as you wondered what was wrong, judging by the shy smile on his face. As he began to confess to you, you couldn’t help but smile. It was a moment you had secretly been waiting for, for quite some time, having also spoken to Jackson in private before to see if Youngjae felt the same way, which now you knew, he did.

D ⇴ DATES

He was very spontaneous with your dates, he never planned too much into them because neither of you ever really knew where you’d end up. He loved to go on long walks with you, and Coco, exploring around the city. He was a lot more chill than some of the other members, he wasn’t a massive fan of physical things that required a lot of energy, he much preferred to relax with you at the cinema or the theatre. He also loved to gift you things on your dates, particularly little songs, or melodies he’d come up with thinking about you.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

Youngjae had been too shy to ever really approach a girl before, he was the softest human who was so scared of rejection. He’d opened up to you plenty of times about his concerns with this being his first relationship, he never wanted to do anything wrong or upset you. Luckily for him, you were very understanding of the fact this was his first relationship, and you always put in plenty of effort to encourage him that you were happy.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

He was far too sensitive to every really fight, if there was one member in the group who hated confrontation, it was Youngjae. You’d be able to tell if he was upset because he’d go silent, the room would have a horrendous tension as Youngjae just sat with his own thoughts. Rather than shout, the two of you would sit and talk. Arguments effected Youngjae a lot more than they did you, whilst you weren’t afraid to shout if you needed to, there was never a chance because Youngjae wouldn’t allow it.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

His family was fairly big which was slightly overwhelming for you, but Youngjae was quick to welcome you in. He knew that you loved being around children, so he used his nieces and nephews to his advantage, which also allowed his parents to see how caring and sweet you were, whilst also seeing how happy you made Youngjae too.

H ⇴ HOME

Since moving out of the dorm, he’d gotten used to life being him and Coco, but he couldn’t deny that he loved the company you brought into his life. The two of you spent a lot of time together from the start of your relationship, so it only made sense for you to move into his place after a couple of months seeing as you practically lived there anyway.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

You were actually the first to say, ‘I love you,’ one evening when Youngjae was feeling particularly sensitive. He’d had the day from hell, and you were struggling to find a way to comfort him. It broke your heart seeing him so upset, and the only way out seemed to be telling him exactly how you felt, as he was told he was loved by a girlfriend for the first time.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

Again, Youngjae is the softest boy, and jealousy is a feeling he often recognises. He has many insecurities that you’ve been helping him with, his confidence isn’t as high as other people’s which often feels him leaving a little left out. You can recognise instantly when Youngjae isn’t feeling himself, you won’t hesitate for a second to excuse yourself and return to Youngjae’s side. He’ll always apologise for feeling how he does, but yet again you always assure him that the feeling is only natural, and he hasn’t done anything wrong.

K ⇴ KIDS

Having spent a few years around his nieces and nephews, Youngjae can’t wait to start a family of his own. As excited as he is, he knows there’s a few years left before he can think about it. The two of you will talk about your future family quite often, imagining what your kids would look like, how they’d behave and all the changes you’d have to make to the apartment in order to accommodate your family.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

I challenge you to find someone with a laugh as infectious as Youngjae’s. It is your favourite sound in the world, and by far your favourite thing about him. There’s been plenty of occasions when you’ve heard him laughing before you’ve even put the key in the front door to unlock. He loves to laugh and being around you always brings a smile to his face. When you’ve had a bad day, he’ll stick by your side and laugh until he can no more in the hope it makes you happy again, knowing how much his laughter can brighten your mood.

M ⇴ MISSING

He’s a wreck when he’s away from you, there’s no other way to describe it. He doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s alright because he knows he’s not. He’ll call you most days, even if it’s just for a few moments so that he can hear your voice and see your face. You’ll often get messages from the other boys too to let you know he’s coping, if at all. The day he comes back from tour feels like Christmas to him, he refuses to leave the apartment for a good few days so he can make up for all the time that he’s been away from you. It’s overwhelming for him being back with you both, a special time that he wants to savour for a while.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

You’re hugely in love with his cheeks, so you tend to call him ‘squish,’ because of his adorable dimples. For Youngjae, he’ll often call you, ‘jagi,’ it’s his favourite nickname for you, which makes it your favourite too.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Just like you are with his, Youngjae is obsessed with your laugh. Being around you really is a safe space for him, and nothing makes him feel safer then when he’s with you and able to hear you laughing about anything.

P ⇴ PDA

He’s far too shy to ever do anything over the top in public, but he certainly won’t allow there to be a distance between you both. No matter how red his cheeks are, he’ll always keep you close and protected in his side one way or another. Rather than PDA, the two of you much prefer to mess around and tease each other to see who can laugh the most.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Youngjae turns a lot to you to boost his confidence, he’ll ask for your opinion on a lot of things. When you can tell he’s feeling insecure you’ll be right there to answer his questions and comfort him.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACT

A lot of people know that he wears his two rings as they were gifts, but what very few people know is that he also has a bracelet that he refuses to take off, from you. It’s often hidden under his jackets or shirts, which he loves, but he does get caught in interviews from time to time playing with it. No one ever knows where the bracelet came from, aside from the two of you, but he likes having a part of you with him always.

S ⇴ SEX

The softest human being in the world, the two of you are equals always, very affectionate, and incredibly cuddly. He doesn’t tend to dominate, and neither do you, you just follow your intuitions and understand each other’s likes and dislikes. He’s shy often, but sex is where it peaks, he never quite knows what to do when you compliment him or tell him he’s doing a good job, he’ll just giggle and look away from your eyes.

T ⇴ TEXTS

He doesn’t text you often as he much prefers to hear your voice, so if he does text you, it’ll usually be a Coco update. Youngjae very much sees you as Coco’s mum, aside from Mark, so he’ll always send you photos of her throughout the day,

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

His confidence has never been so high since he started dating you. You helped Youngjae learn a lot about himself and teach him how precious he is. Without you, he’d never value himself as he does today.

V ⇴ VACATION

Going on holiday is a very rare experience for the two of you, Youngjae is quite a homely person, and between your schedules, you never really have the time. If you do have time for a holiday, you’ll tend to let Youngjae organise it as he needs to relax much more than you do, whatever he decides, you’ll know you’ll enjoy it.

W ⇴ WHINING

He doesn’t tend to whine a lot, if something goes wrong or he makes a mistake he’ll kick himself more than anything rather than involve you.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Youngjae kisses you all the time, especially when you’re in your own space, but equally, you kiss him often too. Whenever he’s feeling down or a little bit insecure, you know kisses are the way to pick up his mood. He’ll try and brush you aside and hide his smile, but as soon as he feels your lips press to his cheek or chin, he won’t be able to hide it any longer. They’re what reassure Youngjae the most, something you very quickly learnt.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his biggest fan, you supported him through everything which he was so thankful for.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

Despite his light snores and sleep talking at night, you love to cuddle up to Youngjae at night. Most nights, the two of you will wake up in the exact same position the following morning, having slept too comfortably to move.

---

Masterlist

[tiaragqueen]

Would you be comfortable writing 16 year old yan!Dazai with perhaps someone a year younger (and a civilian)? If so, can I request prompts #7 “I know you better than you know yourself...” and #9 “Try that again, I dare you.”

Puerile

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Teenager! Dazai Osamu x Teenager! Reader

✂ Word Count: 856

✂ Trigger Warnings: Implied murder, confinement, mention of manipulation

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

***

Ouch, I can't even begin to imagine just how dark his mind is when he's a teenager.

7. “I know you better than you know yourself…”

9. “Try that again, I dare you.”

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“Where are you going, where do you go? Tell me, where are you going, where? Let’s go.” - Where Are You Going? [Dave Matthews Band]

When you felt the undeniable frigidity seeped from the back of your skull, you knew that you were doomed – literally and figuratively. You’d never hold a gun before, didn’t know what it felt like against your clean hand, but you knew this was it.

Dazai was a mafioso, after all. It’d be strange if he didn’t have a gun with him at all times.

“Try that again, I dare you.” And somehow, his voice managed to sound colder than the muzzle. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to choose between being shot or listening to him. “Go ahead. Let me see just how desperate you are.”

You hadn’t heard him opening the front door, let alone entering your room, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered when you were seconds away from death, especially when you had no backup plan to convince him of something so blatant.

“D-Dazai-kun…” You wanted to face him, but he simply pushed the gun further as though he wanted to drill it into your skull. He’d cornered you against the window, diminishing any chance for you to escape.

Was it possible for you to feel claustrophobic from being near someone? You felt like you could die from his presence alone, the menacing aura he emitted overwhelmed your lungs more than the cigarette smoke.

Cocking his head, he cooed. “What’s wrong? Are you scared? Don’t tell me you’re going to back down now. We’re just getting to the good part, you know?”

“D-Dazai-kun, I…” What were you going to say now? Should you ask for his pardon? But that felt so wrong. Why should you apologize to someone who had robbed you of your freedom? Why should you apologize to someone who had manipulated you into living with him without the slightest guilt?

Should you lie to him, instead?

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to–”

“You weren’t going to what?” The urge to cry had never been this strong ever since the homesickness hit you at night. He was only a year older than you, but he looked like a forbidding parent. So tall and imposing, his face ran cold yet his anger burned hot.

Then again, what kind of a parent would shoot their own child, anyway?

“You weren’t thinking about fooling me, were you, [Name]?” You flinched at the lack of affectionate suffix that he usually attached. He continued, his voice felt like steel grating on your ears. “I know you better than you know yourself, so don’t even think about humoring me with your pathetic lie.”

The tears finally spilled.

“I just… I just want to meet my family.” you sobbed. You were aware of how ugly you looked right now, but you prayed for him to pity you. Just for this once.

Dazai squinted. “Oh, you want to meet your family? Okay, then. I’ll take you to them.”

Putting the gun back to his pocket, he snatched your wrist and dragged you outside. He fished out his phone and called someone, asking for a pickup. Very soon, a sleek black car appeared. You didn’t get a chance to see who the driver was - not that you'd know his identity - before Dazai pulled you inside and made you sit beside him.

The ride to your house or that was what you expected, was tense. Neither of you spoke, and the driver stayed silent too. It was the most awkward moment you ever had with him since he usually filled the lull with suicide jokes or flirtations.

And honestly, you weren’t sure if you still wanted to talk to him after this.

But when you noticed the car passed the direction to your house, you knew that you needed to speak up.

“Dazai-kun, w-where are we going? You missed the turn…”

As expected, he didn’t respond immediately. He sat silently for another minute before he graced you with an answer that unsettled you even more.

“I’m taking you to your family, of course.”

Maybe they’d moved out? It’s been a long time since you saw them. After you asked their permission to have a sleepover in his apartment (they didn’t know about your relationship and they’d never met him, either), you began to steadily lose contact with them.

It started with Dazai ‘begging’ you to stay for another day, then buying some new clothes, and eventually, you were duped into living with him. Somewhere along the way, your phone had mysteriously disappeared too, leaving you to rely on him and the news to stay updated on the outside world.

He never truly answered your questions regarding your family, either. And you, foolish you, had concluded that they were okay.

At least, that was what you desperately hoped.

But you finally understood now, why he always gave a vague reply. You didn’t want to admit it, yet the sight of the cemetery sign that loomed over the car was enough proof to your growing suspicion.

And when Dazai led you to a bunch of graves, carved with certain names that would surely haunt you forever, you knew that they weren’t, and had never been, okay.

[tikki-tok]

It’s really strange to me how much this show means to me thematically- mainly since it’s a cartoon and I’m an adult (even though I know that you can like what you like) and I guess I was holding off on saying my feelings because I felt a bit embarrassed in that way, but seeing everyone else say their piece helped me feel more comfortable myself.

I don’t wanna get into personal stuff too much, since this is the internet fkdjdjs but I never really had the best relationship with my siblings and parents. I have to raise the youngest and my parents and I hardly talk despite living in the same home. I guess ducktales kinda hit different because,,, seeing such healthy and good relationships among family was something I had never gotten myself, and it helped me see that maybe my home wasn’t as good as I thought. Again I feel really weird saying that cause it’s a cartoon, but it really is what helped me open the dialogue with myself about what was wrong with my current family situation.

It felt good and cathartic to see family explored in so many ways and getting to see happy and healthy sibling and parent dynamics. The messages on found family- especially with how they wrote Lena- really hit close to home, and it gave me hope of finding that love and acceptance myself when I really needed it most.

I also can’t go without mentioning that this show was how I met my boyfriend, one of the most important and wonderful people in my life. Had it not been for our shared interest, we may have never met, and while my interest in the show would come and go as hyperfixations do, getting to share the excitement and fun with him brought me so many memories I’ll be treasuring forever

I’m really bad at keeping up w the duck tales community since I became less active on my side blog @hubert-makes-your-head-hurt but if any of y’all know me from that blog, have mutual friends with me, or really just like the show and wanna say hello- my inbox is always open! You guys are awesome, and even enjoying the fandom from the sidelines and just as an uninvolved viewer of art and fics and stuff really made this show something special for me. Anyways- I hope moving forward that we can remember this show and all of the great things it was, and I hope that the kindness and acceptance this community has shown stays with all of y’all as you move on to other adventures. Thank you guys for the past 4 years. It’s been amazing <3

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Tango: Daniel Michaelson

CW: Noncon kissing/touching, referenced noncon/dubcon, references to violence/abuse, intimate whumper in the extreme from whumper’s POV, pet whump and dehumanization

Tagging Danny’s crew: @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps

Takes place the first Christmas after Danny’s captivity begins. This is set before the Dubcon Drabble.

They didn't know he was watching them.

"I, um, I told you, Nate, I can't fucking do it!" Red laughed, hard enough he bent over nearly in half in the middle of the living room, and his laughter bounced off the walls and the roof.

It was lovely, natural laughter, the kind that died in his throat when Bram walked into the room - so he stayed hidden, for now.

He wanted to see more of the sad shining light in the puppy’s pretty face. He’d have that light for him eventually - once he gave up, once he truly accepted that this was forever. Bram wasn’t in a rush - they were alone here in the woods, and he never hurried a work of art. "I've stepped on you three times! I can't do it!"

"Well, you're p-probably used to l-l-leading, so I'm taking that argument w-w-with a grain of s-salt." Nate had a soft, dry humor in his voice. His humor didn't always leave when Bram walked in, Nate loved him just like he should even if Red wasn't quite there yet.

It was still early.

He had plenty of time.

"Bold of you to assume I knew how to dance before I came here," Red said, still leaning over with his hands on his knees, with the flickering light of the fireplace behind him, the Christmas tree in the corner all lit up with Bram’s favorite, all the colored lights he’d been able to get ahold of, boxes and boxes of ornaments he’d picked up in thrift stores. There were wrapped presents under the tree, things he had gotten for them and a couple of things he’d allowed them to pick out for each other.

There were even presents for him, from them.

It was fucking storybook picture, and it was almost everything Bram had dreamed his life could be, missing just one piece. The most important piece. Ashley wasn’t here, it wasn’t time for her to return yet… but everything else was here.

Red was still in his loose white t-shirt (dream boy on the front, some assembly required on the back - Bram had given it to him for his birthday back in the summer) and pajama pants from the night before. The only visible scars were on his face and around his wrists.

Nate had a plain black shirt and pants - they hadn't left the cabin at all since the big snowfall, three feet of snow burying them in the little clearing. He and Nate had snowboots to wear, waterproof coveralls to pull on, to go out and get the firewood. The puppy had nothing.

He wasn’t going anywhere, anyway.

It was firewood Bram had gone outside for, and he’d told them he was walking traps, too… he’d left them an hour or so ago, and they thought he was still out in the woods, that they'd hear him come back. He had made sure they didn't.

"You g-g-grew up r-rich, though, r-right?" He was so, so good, his Nate, the perfect partner he'd made out of rough edges and fighting. He’d been hard, at the beginning, difficult and lovely, but he was just perfect right now.

Bram loved his life. He loved the cabin with its flickering warmth from the fireplace and picturesque Christmas tree, he loved the trees and the animals he hunted, he loved Red and his scars and the way he still had to grit his teeth before he did what Bram wanted… and he loved Nate most of all.

His true love, his black-haired prince, his perfect man.

"I… yeah, I guess. I, um, I didn't think about it that way, but, um… yes." Red shook his head, shaking his hair over his eyes. Bram wanted to walk in and push it back, tuck it behind one ear where the longest bit was and see the puppy jump and force himself to hold still… but he didn't want the moment to end.

“Rich kids never t-think they’re rich.”

“That’s probably true.” Red rolled his eyes. “But it’s not like I chose to be rich, they picked me up at a group home. I’ve only been rich since I was, um, five.”

"And you didn't t-take dancing l-l-lessons? I thought all rich kids took those."

"Nah. I said no. My, um, my parents didn’t… didn’t care. My brother did, though, he's a great dancer. He could do this with you, he wouldn’t even need to practice. Ryan is graceful as fuck."

"He c-c-could, but I'm h-here with you. I want to dance with Danny."

Red's head jerked up, eyes wide with sudden panic. “Nate, don’t,” He said uneasily, his eyes looking to the window outside and then back. Bram felt his mouth go a little dry at the gorgeous lick of fear he could see run up the puppy’s spine, the way it settled into the air, like the smell of dinner cooking in the crockpot after a long day out in the woods.

He’d done that; he’d trained him to be afraid of his own name. It made him want… a lot of very dark things, all at once.

“Abraham said that’s not my name now,” Red whispered. “I’m n-not allowed to have it. My, my name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner… I don’t want to go back into the-”

“It’s fine, D-Danny. It’s j-j-just us here r-right now.” Nate leaned closer, rubbed a thumb gently over the still-healing scar on his nose, dug even deeper than it had been before, then both thumbs across the marks on his cheekbones and the deep scars that painted each side of his jaw.

Bram watched the puppy relax, slowly close his eyes, moving his head forward to make it a little easier for Nate. “That feels really, um, really good, when you do that.”

“I know. D-D-Danny,” Nate said in almost a whisper. “I’ll s-say it over and oh-over. Danny, Danny, Danny. Your n-n-name is Danny M-Michaelson-”

“And your name is Nathaniel Vandrum,” Red said, and he smiled, just a little bit, nervously.

His name is Nate Denner now. Or it will be.

“Right. When it’s j-j-just the t-two of us, we have our n-n-names, still, r-right?”

“Right. We had names, before we, before-” “We still have them, Danny."

Bram raised an eyebrow, but thought he’d let it slide for now. Nate was good for the most part, and they thought they were alone. He wanted them to rely on each other, they'd be less able to ever attempt another escape that way.

Nate would never leave Red here, knowing he'd be killed or worse in the aftermath of Bram's grief at losing his partner, his best friend, his greatest love… and Red wouldn't leave Nate again, no, not knowing he'd go right back in the muzzle when he was caught. Not after running right into the trap the first time he’d tried.

It’d be forever, this next time, he’d wear the muzzle so long he’d forget what it was like without it.

No, Bram hadn’t been the smart twin, when they were alive and young, but he wasn’t stupid, either. He'd made sure Nate was the only solid ground the puppy had left - and he’d knew Nate was too broken to ever even think about leaving again.

"Thank you," Red said softly. "Thank you for my name." The words were nearly automatic - he'd finally learned how important it was to say thank you for every gift he was given, even if he’d had to learn the hard way.

There was defiance still that lit the puppy up, even if he knew better now than to do anything with it. He could see it sometimes in the set of his jaw, in a fire that would start back up in his warm blue eyes.

Nate loved the puppy's eyes, and Bram didn't mind. He wasn't jealous - he'd wanted them to be three in the bed, the way it was supposed to be. Bram liked that feeling at night, the way Red would try to pull away and he would pull him right back. He liked watching him crumble when he did, watching him fight all the defiance left within himself to let himself be kissed good night. Those blue eyes were never warm for him.

With him, Red was scared and worried, not quite eager to please, exactly, just trying to predict him so he could keep his voice.

Bram was a good man, he wasn't soulless. He was a good partner to Nate, he was good to the puppy. He wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t.

He wasn’t a monster. He simply needed to eat, and needed Red to learn and to understand how to behave, to not run away again. To hold still for him. To let him feed.

He had declared him good enough to earn his voice again two weeks ago, an early Christmas gift, after six weeks of silence. Before that he was allowed out only at mealtimes and to shower or a few other times, where Bram made it clear that there were always going to be strings attached to every piece of freedom, that the puppy would have to earn it by giving other parts of himself away.

Some days he chose to keep it on. Other days he nodded, willing to do whatever Bram wanted if it bought him a little time to take a deep breath.

Each day that Red was kept silent, distant and strangely disaffected, was a day Bram felt a little more affection for him, felt more and more the rightness of his choice. Red was going to be perfect one day, just like Nate.

The six weeks had been a gift, to help him understand.

Nate had not appreciated that it was a gift either. He’d changed, a little, been cold and angry about it being too long and too cruel and inhuman. He'd even tried to tell Bram no one night (just once, and he hadn't tried that again), but they had moved past it. They'd gotten past every other bump in the road of their relationship, after all - even Nate killing Ashley and running away from him they had gotten past, in the end.

When it had come off, the puppy had been smart enough to thank him, in a stumbling, hoarse voice. His eyes had still been mostly lost wherever it was he went in his mind when the muzzle was on, but he'd come back once Nate spoke to him, sat him down, made him a mug of tea to sip and asked Bram, if a very soft voice, if he didn’t mind leaving them alone for a while.

He'd heard the puppy starting to cry before he even made it outside, and he'd gone out to chop firewood whistling 'Camptown Races' with a smile on his face and gone through a whole round of chores, stayed out for nearly three hours. By the time he’d come back in, the puppy was asleep in the bed and Nate was sitting at the table drinking tea by himself, and he’d looked up to Bram and smiled, automatically, like a puppet on strings.

Perfect.

It had taken Red a week to start speaking again without looking to Bram first to see if he could. It had been nearly two weeks before he said more than the bare minimum, really. It had taken until tonight - and a lot of Bram's good whiskey - to get him laughing again.

He'd told them to drink the whiskey - and they'd taken this order, at least, to heart.

"I l-l-like your n-name," Nate said with a smile, reaching out to grab the glass on the side table and finish what was left in it before he turned back. “I always liked your n-name.”

“I don’t even know who named me. Do you think my, um, my birthmom gave me a name?”

“Maybe. It d-d-doesn’t matter, I l-l-like it, anyway. We can have it, just between us. He won't care, if we d-don't use it with him."

He cared a little - but they were so good together, right now, and the more they liked each other the less they could ever, ever leave him.

Tonight, he hadn't hooked Danny back up to the wall before he left for chores, he'd pretended to forget. And they hadn't tried to plan an escape. Instead, his true love held out his hand to the puppy, and after a hesitation, Red took it, straightening back up.

They looked good together. A set just for him, handpicked and perfect. And they didn't know he was here, so he got to see how they were together when they weren't always watching him to see how he would react. He liked that they looked to him first; they should, they belonged to him, after all. But… still.

He liked that they looked at each other, too.

"We'll practice," Nate said reassuringly. The DVD on the TV was paused right at the beginning of the song, so all you saw on screen was the crowd of dancers in the darkened theater, with a man in a red vest and a woman all in black just beginning to move.

"We're too, um, too drunk," Red protested, words slurred only the slightest bit, leaning too much into Nate. "I'm all left feet, I always have been, and we are too fucking drunk!"

"You're never t-too drunk to t-t-tango," Nate said, and pulled the puppy closer to him. Bram smiled, letting his head tilt. They were too wrapped up in each other, and normally he didn't let that stand, but tonight… well, it was Christmas, and they were being so sweet.

Just like he wanted them to be.

“I can’t dance like them,” Red said, eyes glancing towards the movie and back.

“No one’s asking you to dance like that. I just w-w-want you to learn the b-basics." Nate took Red’s hands and shifted them, bent at the elbows and facing up, palm to palm. "B-Ben and I t-t-took dancing lessons for like two and a hah, half years, back h-h-home, I’m pretty good at stuff like this. Now, we'll p-practice some more without music, I'll hum to help you. Then we play the scene. Put your head up. Head up, shoulders back, spine strong. Here, arm out like this. Got it?”

"Got it. You… you stopped stammering.”

“I do th-that with you, sometimes.”

“Right.” Red did his best to get into position. “So Ben was your boyfriend? Before?"

Nate let his eyes cut away, over the wide open room where they'd shoved all the furniture, the couch and side tables and the armchair, to the walls. They'd even rolled up the giant rug, leaving bare wood. "Yeah," He said, still looking off to the side, even as he didn’t drop Red’s hands. "For three years. He broke up with me, actually, six months before I, uh, I m-m-m-..."

"You don't have to say it," Red said softly.

"Met Bram and A-Ashley," Nate finished as if he hadn't spoken. "Th-that's why we were at th-the bar. My r-r-roommate was always t-t-telling me to d-drink it away."

“I, um, tried that with someone once,” Red said, with a wry smile. “You see how it didn’t work so well with me, look, um, where I am now.” He laughed again, a little bitterly this time, and it pulled at the still-healing raw cuts across his nose and each side of his jaw. When he winced, Bram felt a spike of need, the way he felt when he made the puppy hurt and saw him flinch back into Nate’s careful, gentle grip before he set his jaw and made himself be good, be whatever Bram wanted.

“We b-b-both went to b-bars to meet guys and met him, in the eh-end.” Nate sighed, and Bram loved the sound of him sighing. They nearly looked his way, and he shifted subtly back behind the still-mostly-closed door to the kitchen. “I thought I was s-safe, so far away, after s-so long, Danny, I’m s-sorry-”

“It’s, um, it’s okay.”

“No it’s n-not. I used to th-think it was j-j-just bad luck.”

“What do you think now?”

Nate shrugged. “I th-think I was a-a-always just waiting for him,” He said softly. “For both of them, but… but for him.”

Right answer, lovely.

“You weren’t,” Red said quickly. “You weren’t. Life could, um, could have been something else-”

"N-not for me."

"This doesn't have to be it, Nate!"

“It does and it is. I had b-b-before them, and I have after them, and so d-do you and there isn’t anything else. Stop talking that b-b-bullshit or he’ll hear us and he’ll put it b-back on you,” Nate snapped, and Red flinched, pulling his hands back and away, looking down at the ground.

Nate looked at him, and some of the tension went out of his face. “Shit. D-Danny, I didn’t mean- S-s-s-suh… I’m s-s-”

“I know you are. No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said- we’re not supposed to talk about leaving or there being anything else, it’s my fault, I-I was-... there is no life before Abraham, there isn’t anything after him, I'm not supposed to-”

“Hey.” The puppy raised his eyes again, and Nate leaned in close. “It’s oh-okay. There’s just us. You g-g-got it?”

Red swallowed, and then slowly nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. Listen to me. J-just don’t think about l-leaving, it’s easier if you don’t. We’ll think about d-dancing instead. Always make yourself th-think about something else if you start to think about leaving. I… I don’t want you to l-leave me again.”

“I don’t want to leave you either,” The puppy said, softly. “I won’t. I won’t leave and I won’t think about it anymore. We’ll th-think about dancing. There is no life before Abraham.”

“The trick is that you do slow, slow, then quick, quick, slow. I’m leading.”

“You tend to,” Red said, hesitant but almost teasing, and there was a voice Bram had never once heard used with him. No, this voice was for Nate alone.

“Sh-shut up or I w-w-won’t be able to do it. Fuck, my f-f-aaa… face is red. Okay, so I’m g-going to go forward, once with my left and then with my right - then with my left. Then we go to the right, then put my feet together, left to right. Did that make sense, Danny?”

“Not at all,” Red said, and laughed again. “I told you, I’m too drunk for this.”

“Y-you’re not, I promise. If B-Ben could teach me, I can t-t-teach you. You’ll do backwards, once right and then right, then again with your right, then to the left, then put your feet together. I’ll count for you. Don’t think about the steps, or numbers. Just think about how it feels to move with me. Okay?”

The puppy opened his mouth, then slowly closed it again and nodded.

Eventually, with practice and a little more whiskey the puppy got the hang of it. He watched them go through the steps over and over, with the movie still paused, quiet except for Nate’s humming and Red’s occasional laughter when he stepped on a foot or simply tripped over himself.

“Are you r-ready?” Nate asked, looking to the TV and back.

“As I’ll ever be.” Red raised his head high, shoulders back, and there was an inherent ridiculousness in the look of him being led by someone shorter than him, but the sparkling life in him was so beautiful. It made Bram want him, want to snuff that life out until he was back to meek and scared, in pain and quiet and curled in on himself in the bed, waiting to see what they’d do to him.

He felt his fingers twitch, just slightly, and told himself, wait. Not just yet.

Bram watched Nate grab the remote and start the movie back up. The violins kicked in, an insistent rhythm, and a man began to sing in a hoarse, rough voice, a cover of a song Ashley had liked, when it came on the radio.

Nate counted out loud, moving the puppy slow, slow, quick-quick, slow, keeping to the rhythm of the music. Nate's left foot dragged only the slightest bit, the cold was always hard on that leg.

On the screen, the actors and actresses did a more complicated dance, but in front of the fireplace and the Christmas tree, sweet little Red and Nate kept it simple.

Bram remembered this movie, vaguely. It’d been one of the few newer films in the body’s collection. Something about a prostitute.

Both of them were so focused on each other that neither noticed Bram slowly stepping into the room.

His eyes upon your face, crooned the lead actor in the movie, someone Bram vaguely recognized but couldn’t remember the name of. His hand upon your hand.

He kept to the edges, along the walls, placing his steps with absolute care and quiet, just like hunting in the woods.

His lips caress your skin... it’s more than I can stand…

Bram grinned. He wasn’t the jealous type, but he liked the way the notes went all sour and off-key together in this song.

"I'm doing it!" Red said brightly, as the chorus started up again.

"Right, congratulations, you can tango now," Nate said, and there was warmth in him that he usually reserved for Bram. However much they had grown to like each other, they would like him more, in the end. He’d make sure of it.

They had all the time in the world now.

No rush.

Just a lot of knives and endless, perfect time.

Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow. Simple, clean, easy steps. They were so goddamn beautiful and they were his.

“G-getting better,” Nate said, encouragingly, pausing when the music went slow and quiet, the hoarse-voiced man speaking again, berating the vaguely familiar actor. “How do you f-f-feel? Like you’ve got it?”

“I think so. I think I’ve… let’s, um, let’s keep going. Don’t stop dancing.”

The violins hit a high pitch and they moved again as the music crescendoed, Nate speeding up the steps to move with the music and Red struggling to keep up with him. Meanwhile, Bram moved around close to the wall, watching the two of them.

Right as the song went discordant and unsettling, just at the end as the actor Bram couldn’t remember the name of was wailing you’re free to leave me, but just don’t deceive me, Nate dipped Red backwards to his clear and absolute drunken surprise.

The two of them burst out laughing, and Nate slid one hand over the red marks along the puppy’s jaw on his left side.

"Please," Nate breathed out, an inch away from Red's face, "believe me when I say I l-"

Bram coughed, and Nate jerked backwards in shock, dropping Red unceremoniously onto the floor on his back.

He landed with a thunk, gasping out a cough as the impact stole the air from his lungs and he rolled onto his side, but Bram had caught the shift from his open, bright laughter for Nate to the terror when he’d realized Bram was there and had heard what Nate was saying and it nearly undid him. By all the darkest, oldest gods, Bram loved the fear.

“B-Bram, y-y-you, you’re back,” Nate said hurriedly, helping Red back up. He looked right at Bram, but the puppy kept his eyes down and away, over towards the Christmas tree.

"Finished up my work in the smokehouse. Thought I'd come back and see what my boys were doing without me."

The two men shared a look, just a half-glance, and Bram felt his smile shifting, widening. That's perfect. Trust me, love me, be afraid of me, and it'll be happily ever after, I’ll hurt you forever.

"J-just, we-... we were just-"

"Ssshhhhh," Bram said, moving over to them, taking his time. "Don't." He stopped by the side table, pouring himself some whiskey into Nate's empty glass. He picked it up - and the puppy’s glass, still with at least an ounce left - and walked over to them. "Finish this, Red. Never leave good whiskey to rest too long."

Red nodded and took his glass, still not looking at him, taking it with the edges of his fingertips to avoid touching Bram. He knocked back everything, barely wincing at the burn down his throat. "Th-thank you, Abraham," he said, and his voice shook a little, and Bram's mouth went dry. “Thank you for giving me something to-to, um, to drink.”

He reached out to trace the line of the puppy's jaw with one finger and watched those blue eyes close tightly as he held very, very still.

"Hey, beautiful," He said, and watched the breath catch in the puppy's throat as his fingertips found the red scar, so long after the second time. Taking so much longer to heal. He traced the vertical slash on that pale skin up the side of his cheek, over the cheekbone where the newest scars were, over to his nose, up over the bridge and down the other side. A line you could read in his face and see exactly what had been done to him. "No one else will ever want you like this, will they?"

“No.” The response was a whisper. The puppy knew the right way to answer questions now, too. It never took all that long to figure that part of things out - not with Nate there to teach him what to do.

“Exactly. You’re damaged goods, now.”

"I-I know," the puppy said, barely moving his mouth, but he didn't pull away. "I know that."

"But we still want you. Don't we, Nate?"

"Yes," Nate replied automatically, not even hesitating, eyes dancing back and forth between them, trying to read the situation, figure out if Bram was mad, or sad, or happy, so he could adapt to it. "We still w-w-want you, R-Red."

“That’s right. We’re the only two people in the world who would still want you after I’ve made you like this for me. No one is looking for you, now. No one wants you but me.”

The young man swallowed, hard, and Bram watched his jaw move, the flash of the fight still in him flickering in his eyes like candlelight. He knew exactly what was going on behind that face - the puppy was thinking about his fucking brother, the one person he refused to let go of.

He had dreams about the brother, woke up crying and Bram would lay there and watch while Nate held him, joy rolling through him in waves, satiated and fed by how intensely and thoroughly the puppy grieved the loss.

Well, it was only a matter of time, anyway, before even the brother was gone... and Bram could wait. But that fight was still in there, inside of him, and he wanted to cut it the fuck out.

“No one,” He repeated, scratching a little at the scar, making the puppy flinch. “No one but us will ever want you.” He wouldn't be able to make it through opening the presents, not at this rate. Not if they were both going to be so sexy like this. "It’s okay, though, isn’t it? You’re just fine with us here. You were dancing with my Nate, after all," Bram said softly. "I saw you dancing."

A red flush went up the puppy's face, nearly as red as his scars, his hair, his name, as the blood that had come out of him when Bram cut him open the first time in the backseat of his own car, somewhere on the side of the road in Oregon. "You s-saw?"

"You're not a bad dancer, Red. Need some practice, though. Next time do I get to watch?"

Red shivered, and Bram moved even closer to him. “If… if you want to, Abraham…” He smelled like fear, like prey, something to be hunted again and again and again, torn open, skinned and laid bare.

Metaphorically, of course.

“I do want to.” How could any red-blooded… well, not man, but his blood was still reasonably red, so it counted... be expected to just ignore something like this? Did other people, out there in the world, see someone so frightened and not just want to claw into that fear and drink it and drag it into bed?

He didn’t love the puppy, but he was getting there with every little shiver like this.

"Hey," Nate said, moving to him, putting a hand on his arm. He turned to look at his true love, trying to get between him and Red, tilting his head the way he knew Bram liked, moving closer. "H-hey, I, uh, Red said he's got a thing he m-m-made for dessert in the f-fridge, we could, we… c-could eat that and do presents? Or y-you and I could g-go into the bedroom." A little more between them, blocking the puppy off from him. He watched Red’s shoulders start to relax. "Just us?"

Nate was trying so hard, and he was so good. Always trying to put himself in front of Bram, to take being hurt so Red wouldn't have to be, interceding on his behalf. Always slipping him extra food when he thought Bram wasn't looking. Arguing with him about the muzzle, about making Red chop wood when his leg was still bruised up. Standing up for him.

He hadn't been so selfless when they'd first picked him up. He’d been wasted potential, all that beauty hidden behind his bullshit argument with his roommate. No, he'd made his love into this, he and Ashley. He wasn't a monster at all.

He'd made Nate a better person by making him a Denner.

He was making Red a better person, too, bit by bit.

This was the best possible place to live. No one asked questions when he went into town. No one had missed the previous cabin’s owner, no one was suspicious when he said he’d bought the cabin. No one cared about what he did out here, so long as he kept his business to himself. No one could hear Red scream, on the nights Bram wanted him to. No one ever heard you scream in the wilderness, and Nate knew that already but Red had had to learn.

It was so wonderful here, and the only thing missing was Ashley. But she would wake up, one day, and come find him, and they would be a family again.

“Dessert sounds great,” He said, and watched the relief in Nate’s face, so easily read. “What’d you make us, Red?”

The puppy jumped to look up at him, nervously. “I, uh, my… my family used to have a cook, and she made us this cake every year for Christmas, so, so I found a recipe in one of the dead guy’s-”

“Body,” Bram interrupted. “They’re not people, Red. They’re bodies. Try again.”

“Right. Sorry, I’m sorry, Abraham, I’ll, I’ll try harder. I found a recipe in one of the body’s cookbooks for the same, um, kind of cake, and I’m, um, I’m better at baking than I used to be. This cake… Ryan hated it, but I always liked it actually - so did, um, my mom. So it’s, so I made-”

“What did you make? I didn’t ask for your goddamn life story. You’re not supposed to think about life before me, are you? What’s your rule?”

“There is no life before Abraham! Sorry, no-... no, I’m not, I know, sorry, I’ll be good, I’m, I want to be good, I remember,” The puppy said in a frightened rush, and Bram grinned at him. They were so different when they were alone, compared to how they were when he entered their minds and made himself right at home. The difference between Red’s laughter trying to dance, or those curses he used to spit at Bram in the first few days, and the way he’d folded into himself now was night and day, and the sound of his voice was better than music.

He was so good now, and all it had taken was a year here. Bram loved people and he knew them so well, knew all their teeny little cracked spots that you could chisel open into wounds, into damage they could never recover from, never undo or take back.

Even if there was a world where the puppy went free, he’d be damaged like this forever, because of Abraham Denner. There was no better way to feed than to know you’d turned someone into something else entirely, and they could never, ever get themselves back.

For a moment, he fantasized about letting the puppy go back to his family, about what it would be like the first time that fucking brother he cared so much about tried to hug him and he pulled away in fear, or when they put food in front of him and he waited to be given permission to eat it, or flinched when one of them raised a hand to touch his hair...

Then coming back to take him again, and seeing all that fragile recovery and hope crumble to ashes. He could live for years on that moment alone.

“It’s a chocolate gingerbread cake,” The puppy finally said, rubbing at his left arm with his right hand, looking nervously at Nate, who kept his eyes on Bram, still trying to read him. “I made frosting-”

“Then go fucking get it.”

The puppy jerked into motion, walking quickly hunched over towards the kitchen, and Bram briefly looked at the some assembly required written on his back.

Wasn’t that the fucking truth.

They took a lot of work, his boys, but they were worth it in the end.

“You d-don’t have to be mean.” Nate crossed his arms in front of himself. While his voice was still low and submissive, the words weren’t, and Bram fought a glimmer of annoyance. But that was part of being in a relationship, really - sometimes you had disagreements.

There were bumps in the road in every love story, and he and Nate had their bumps, too. But they’d gotten over them all - that they hadn’t met under the best circumstances, that Nate had been a fighter at first, that he’d run away a few times, that he’d stabbed Ashley to death, that he’d started seeing someone else behind Bram’s back…

Bumps in the road. Water under the bridge. Bram knew how to have mature adult disagreements with his true lover, after all. You just talked it out, and if that didn’t work, you fucking broke Red until Nate understood the argument was over.

“Yes, I do.” He smiled, tilting Nate’s chin up with one finger. “I heard you call him by his old name, baby.”

“I f-f-figured,” Nate said softly. “When I saw how far in the room you were. Y-you can be m-m-mad if you want.” He leaned forward and kissed Bram, took the initiative and took his sweet time about it, and that wasn’t fair, now was it? He knew Bram liked it when he did that. “Just be m-mad at me, not him. H-he didn’t do anything wr-wrong, did he?”

“He’s always doing something wrong.” He slid his arms around Nate and felt the other man pause, hesitate, and then put his arms around him, too, and all the anger in him melted away. Nate was so fucking perfect, now. “But fine. Just for you, I’ll be nice to him tonight.”

“Th-thanks,” Nate said, with real sincerity, tucking his forehead against the side of his neck. He was still drunk, most likely, and he was always better and more affectionate when he was drunk - always had been - but Bram wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The puppy came back in with the cake balanced on a silver-colored serving tray Bram had brought back from a supply run a few months back, walking carefully until he set it down on the coffee table they’d pushed against the wall. “I, um, I wanted you to see it before I cut it up,” Red said, and Bram just blinked, shocked.

It was a circular tall cake made of at least eight layers stacked on top of each other, frosted up the sides with a cream-colored frosting and topped with tiny little plastic toy pine trees stuck into it, dusted with that fake snow glued onto them.

Off to the side was a little toy deer, just under one of the trees, and on the other side there was a little army man holding a rifle.

“Is that me?” Bram asked, and just… stared at it. “Is that me hunting?”

Red stood back up, rubbing at the back of his neck, smiling a little off to the side, shyly. “Y-yeah. Because you- you hunt deer, and I found some old toys in the d-... the body’s storage shed. So that’s you, and that’s the deer. I-I had ones for Nate and me, too, but I didn’t-”

“Put them on,” Bram said insistently. “Put the ones for you and Nate on. Now.”

The puppy nodded, quickly, moving over to where he still had a mat on the floor, although he never slept on it any longer, he slept in the bed with them nearly every night now. He dug something out from underneath it and crouched down by the cake, adding two more little toy people. One was made of Legos and was just a little man with a shirt and pants and black hair stuck on top. The other was a tiny plastic cowboy. He put the two others behind the hunter, standing right next to each other, then looked up at Bram, who already had his phone out.

“Smile,” Bram commanded, and the puppy did as he was told.

He took six or seven photos, of the worried smile the puppy put on for him, not quite sincere and a little fake and frightened, stretching his scars and pulling at them. He kept the flash on, just so he could make sure the red would be as bright and vibrantly painted on that pale skin as possible when he looked at the photos later.

You spent six weeks with your voice locked away, and you’re so scared I’ll take it from you again, Bram thought. If the way his heart fluttered thinking about that wasn’t love, then what was?

When he was done, he slid his phone into his back pocket, grabbed the puppy by the arm, and pulled him up, hands on either side of his face, to kiss him.

Nate flinched and moved as if to come towards them, but Bram pulled back just long enough to snap, “Stay,” and Nate froze.

The puppy wanted to fight - he put his hands up, palms flat, against Bram’s chest as if he would push himself free. “You even try to get away from me and I’ll put it right back on you,” Bram murmured into his mouth, and all the resistance simply melted away, Red’s pulse a rabbit-fast beat in his throat and he opened his mouth for Bram well enough, then.

Not perfect, not yet - but he was closer every day, and he’d get there.

Bram wasn’t in any hurry at all.

“Thank you,” Bram said softly when he finally pulled away, kissing the corner of the puppy’s mouth. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” The puppy said, shivering for a whole different reason than before, shifting just a little away from him, and Bram let his hands trail down the sides of his neck, over his collarbone, down his sides. Just proving that he could, that the puppy couldn’t do anything to stop him, wouldn’t dare. “I just, I wanted to make you something, because-”

“Because I’ve been so good to you,” Bram supplied, leaning in to kiss the end of his nose. “Because I still want you, Nate and I, even though no one else ever will.” He kissed each cheekbone, over the red marks. “Because I made you damaged just the way I like you.”

The puppy hesitated - he’d been clearly about to say something, probably anything, else - and then slowly nodded.

“Cut me a slice of cake,” Bram said, nuzzling into the side of Red’s face, against the red line of the scar along his cheek, trailing his lips across it. “We’ll have cake and then it’ll be time for presents, won’t it?”

“Y-yes,” Red said, his voice breathier than before, slightly hitched. “Can you… can you let me go, for a second, please, Abraham?”

He tightened his grip on the puppy, just for one moment, just to remind him that he didn’t move until Bram wanted him to, and that no matter how much he and Nate liked each other, his true love would never stop him from doing what he wanted with the puppy, either - and then he let him go and sat on the couch, watching the puppy move back to the cake with half-lidded eyes.

Nate sat down beside him, still nervous and tense. The puppy gave them their slices of cake, sticking the little people that represented them on the top with a thin half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When he went to sit on the couch with his own plate, Bram shook his head and pointed, in silence, at the floor between Nate’s legs.

“Y-yeah, okay,” Red said softly, scrambling to settle himself with his back against the couch, one of Nate’s legs on either side of him.

He had a bite on the end of his fork when Bram leaned forward, just slightly, and said, “Hey. You forgot.”

“Forgot what? I didn’t-... Oh, I’m, um, I’m sorry.” Red’s face burned again, flushed bright red, and he wasn’t looking his way but if he had, Bram knew he would have seen it again - the fight, buried under the puppy’s attempts to convince himself not to. But it would still be there in his eyes - all that defiance and cursing and spitting and fighting was still there, ready to be locked away piece by piece until all of it was gone and he was finally, finally perfect. “Th-thank you for letting me eat with a fork, Abraham.”

“You’re welcome. This is good shit. I’m proud of you. Good boy, Red.”

The puppy jerked his head down to the floor, but he could see the edge of his jaw as it tightened at the humiliation in the words and he only nodded, curtly, and ate his own cake like it was made of ashes.

The cake was perfect, and the company was perfect. It was all so perfect. He slid an arm around Nate’s shoulders, felt him make himself relax against him, looked down at the puppy’s shock of bright red hair as he kept his own eyes carefully on the TV as the end of the movie played.

Perfect.

Everyone was here, and it was so fucking perfect.

He couldn’t wait for presents. He was very good at gifts, after all, and he couldn’t fucking wait to see Nate and the puppy’s faces when they saw what he had gotten them.

Abraham Denner looked at his warm, cozy living room holding everyone on Earth that mattered, and he thought, Merry fucking Christmas to me.

[kayliemusing]

30

1: Name - Kaylie

2: Age - 23

3: 3 Fears - Spiders, failure, loss

4: 3 things I love - Reading, writing, Taylor Swift

5: 4 turns on - Kindness, nice hands, humor, someone who has a really warm heart.

6: 4 turns off - Arrogance, moustaches lmao, narcissism, basket ball shorts *shudders*

7: My best friend - Her name is Megan (but also my mom lmao)

8: Sexual orientation - Heterosexual

9: My best first date - I have never been on a date.

10: How tall am I - 5'2

11: What do I miss - My childhood mostly

12: What time were I born - 2:45 pm

13: Favorite color - Red, but sometimes a nice summery, pastel yellow

14: Do I have a crush - no

15: Favorite quote - I have so many that I can't say my utmost favourite, but one that I always think about is from Richard Siken "He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand." I'm not even sure how this is supposed to be interpreted, but I just love the detail of this. Of someone looking at the moon and pointing at it, but you're looking at their hand because you're that consumed by them and also they're like your moon. anyway-

16: Favorite place - My house lol

17: Favorite food - Cheesecake

18: Do I use sarcasm - Yes, but very dryly

19: What am I listening to right now - Nothing actually. I'm just sitting in the quiet.

20: First thing I notice in new person - I used to think it was physical, like eyes or their smile, but I think it's actually their demeanor. i.e., confidence, if they're laid back, talkative or quiet, etc. Or even just how they handle things. Like when I'm at work and I meet a new co-worker I'm always noticing how they are with people.

21: Shoe size - 6.5 US but I can manage a 7 US too.

22: Eye color - Grey

23: Hair color - Ashy blonde, but I usually get it highlighted to be a brighter blonde

24: Favorite style of clothing - I'm super into the French girl vibe right now (elegany, classy, ribbed sweaters tucked into high waisted jeans or dress pants, a blazer thrown over and a nice gold necklace) but I'm also really into a summery boho look (flowy maxi dresses and skirts)

25: Ever done a prank call? No

27: Meaning behind my URL - On this account, it's just my name and then 'muses' because this account is just me talking to myself tbh. My main account is called autumnsletters which is just a combo of my fav things: autumn and handwritten love letters, and finally, my embarrassing taylor swift account is called sixteenavenue which is a lyric from her song I Think He Knows where she mentions her heart skipping down sixteenth avenue.

28: Favorite movie - I feel like i don't have one answer bc I always have a different answer to this question lmao. I think it's called A Christmas Carol (the 2009 version w/ Jim Carrey). It just makes me feel cozy and warm inside. Also: Clueless.

29: Favorite song - All Too Well by Taylor Swift I think.

30: Favorite band - Of Monsters and Men

31: How I feel right now - I actually feel really happy today, which is a change lol. I had an awful week last week, but over the last couple of days I've just felt more creative and happier.

32: Someone I love - My mom

33: My current relationship status - Single

34: My relationship with my parents - Excellent.

35: Favorite holiday - Christmas

36: Tattoos and piercing i have -0 :'(

37: Tattoos and piercing i want - I want to get my ears pierced again bc the holes grew over. Low key want a nose piericing and low key want a tattoo on my collarbone (or somewhere around there)

38: The reason I joined Tumblr - Because everyone else had it and I felt left out LOL

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? - I don't have an ex

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? - No

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? - No i've never been kissed rip

42: When did I last hold hands? - never but it's ok bc i can hold my own hand

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? - Depending on what I'm doing. If I showered the night before and I'm just doing a very low-maintenance look, roughly 15-20 mins. On a normal day in which I shower in the morning and am trying to actually be presentable, roughly an hour.

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days? - Have YOU shaved MY legs? No. Have I shaved my own? Yes

45: Where am I right now? - My room

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? - Most likely I'm not drunk, but IF I WAS, it would be my friend, my mom, or my sister (my sister would probs make fun of me and film me tho tbh)

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? - Loud if I'm jamming with nothing else to do but sing along. If I'm trying to do something, I'll turn it down bc I can't focus with loud music (especially if I'm trying to write something/talk to someone/text someone)

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? - My mom bc my dads dead

49: Am I excited for anything? - My sister and I are going to Banff in about three weeks so I'm excited for a getaway.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? - No

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? - I work in retail so

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? - I don't know. I think I hugged my mom at some point this week lol

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? - Bye bye babyyyy

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? - my cat

55: What is something I disliked about today? - I had to go to work

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? - Taylor Alison Swift baby

57: What do I think about most? - Probably Taylor Swift.

58: What’s my strangest talent? - I can make stomach gurgling noises with my mouth closed.

59: Do I have any strange phobias? - Nah, pretty generic ones

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? - Behind the camera

61: What was the last lie I told? - Some lady asked if a product was good and I said yes so I wouldn't have to help her find another one

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? - Neither what the hell

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? - Neither

64: Do I believe in magic? - No

65: Do I believe in luck? - No

66: What's the weather like right now? - It's calm, but a little cloudy. It was really warm and sunny earlier, but it's gotten a little grey.

67: What was the last book I've read? - I just finished this series called The Winner's Curse by Marie Rutkoski and it was so good but so stressful omg. Still 5/5 stars.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? - Yes

69: Do I have any nicknames? - Not really, but sometimes my coworkers call my Kayls

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had? - Oh my god when I was like 10 I fell during grounders and the bar hit me right on the cooch. Most painful event of my entire life.

71: Do I spend money or save it? - Spend it bitch

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? - No

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? - yes!! my blanket!!

74: Favorite animal? - I love hippos and I don't know why.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? - Reading on my phone to avoid sleeping so I could prolong not going to work

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? - Devil. Kind of like Satan The Devil is his full name

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? - Shake It Off

78: How can you win my heart? - Learning Taylor Swift's entire discography for my sake

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? - tbh I really don't know

80: What is my favorite word? - Wonderstruck

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr - n/a

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? - stream fearless taylor's version

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? - no

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? - Healing

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? - N/A

86: What is my current desktop picture? - it's a misty forest

87: Had sex? - no

88: Bought condoms? - no

89: Gotten pregnant? - no

90: Failed a class? - yes

91: Kissed a boy? - no

92: Kissed a girl? - no

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? - no but it's a dream

94: Had a job? - I've had two so far

95: Left the house without my wallet? - Yes, sometimes I do it on purpose so I can make my mom pay for something lmao (chill i'm talking something small like candy)

96: Bullied someone on the internet? - no

97: Had sex in public? - no

98: Played on a sports team? - no

99: Smoked weed? - no

100: Did drugs? - no

101: Smoked cigarettes? - no

102: Drank alcohol? - yes

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? - no

104: Been overweight? - I feel overweight, but technically no

105: Been underweight? - No

106: Been to a wedding? - Yes

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? - Yes, but not since I was younger. I'm mostly on my phone now.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? - Oh yeah lmao

109: Been outside my home country? - No

110: Gotten my heart broken? - Yes

111: Been to a professional sports game? - No

112: Broken a bone? - No

113: Cut myself? - Yes

114: Been to prom? - Sort of. I'm Canadian so I had grad.

115: Been in airplane? - No

116: Fly by helicopter? - No

117: What concerts have I been to? - Jonas Brothers when I was about 10 lmao and Marianas Trench when I was 15

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? - No

119: Learned another language? - Tried to

120: Wore make up? - Yes. I do work at a makeup store.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? - no

122: Had oral sex? - no

123: Dyed my hair? - not a funky color, no

124: Voted in a presidential election? - Sort of; I voted for a prime minister

125: Rode in an ambulance? - Yes

126: Had a surgery? - No

127: Met someone famous? - No

128: Stalked someone on a social network? - No

129: Peed outside? - No

130: Been fishing? - No

131: Helped with charity? - Yes

132: Been rejected by a crush? - No bc I never fessed up to any crush lol

133: Broken a mirror? - No

134: What do I want for birthday? - A jewelry box