#asking for just *one* moment where he can be vulnerable. almost bargaining by saying that we can forget

[cervinae-canine]

thinking about tavish with mitski' class of 2013 i think im gonna lose my shit

[rightpastnowhere]

more thoughts on TLOVM season 3 episode 3. still insane.

PART TWO: that TLOVM perc'ahlia scene, mostly in terms of its TLOVM context, with some campaign 1 comparisons

spoilers below the cut for TLOVM AND campaign one moments that will likely happen this season lol

her initiating this fling is fascinating to me. we all know vex has a fear of commitment and being hurt by relationships right? EXCEPT!! except, i think this is her trying to deal with that. which is insane but it makes sense for her in TLOVM. To Me.

cause like. in the first two episodes we have MULTIPLE close calls with percy, which are technically happening all in the same day?? and you have vex, who's admitted to a creepy fey and herself that her heart is not her own, who takes these, processes these, and says, "thinking i lost him even now was awful; if i start a relationship with him, it will only hurt me 100 times worse in the end. so i'll just fuck him casually and pretend i have no emotions about it whatsoever."

which i think can have TWO possible explanations, yknow beyond the way she's afraid of relationships and considering herself a bad omen - explanations that explain why sex is a line she's willing to cross before emotional confession, almost instead of it, whereas in the campaign she won't cross either.

one: she's trying to convince herself that she can just. make it casual. force it into something different, choke the feelings down until they fade away eventually. i don't have as many thoughts on this idea but it DOES bring me insurmountable pain to think about.

two: she's basically struck a bargain with herself.

after two episodes of multiple close calls with percy, it’s almost like she’s trying to wrestle herself into a deal. she looks at her hungry heart which doesn't belong to her anymore, and is terrified of the decision it wants to make, terrified of the idea of a relationship with percy that will one day crumble, and she says, “okay. one thing. we can have one thing. we can have a casual fling, some friends with benefits, we’ll know what it’s like to kiss him and have sex with him and even wake up next to him but that’s it. we’ll pretend we’re asleep in the morning. we’ll distance ourself from him the next day. we’ll pull back, keep enough of a barrier to not let him any closer, but sex can be casual, right? it doesn’t have to mean anything. it won't mean anything. it's casual.”

and even then it’s only “casual” in the sense that they’ve agreed not to say anything about how they feel. they both know how the other feels, they’ve said it in every way you could without explicitly saying i love you. percy downright admits that he feels something and knows there is something between them and he wants emotional connection. vex says that she cares for him, that she can’t say what he wants to hear, and that everyone she’s ever loved, it ends badly - implying, all but directly saying, that he’s one of those people!! she ends up admitting it even more directly than he does!!!! this is so sad it’s almost hilarious. they’re both admitting and committing to the facade of a casual fling. vex because she’s terrified, and percy because he would do anything for her.

she would rather have a facade of a casual relationship, would rather ask percy to help her lie, help her pretend this means nothing, even as she lies there and admits that it does mean something but she's too scared to let it become anything significant. and even that statement, where she refuses to show vulnerability, is showing so much vulnerability. she's trusting percy with this fear she's kept close to her chest, she's trusting percy with her fear of trust. asking percy to hold that fear and keep it safe, hold it close to his chest, right where his heart sits. where her heart sits, now. the amount of trust it takes to do that. the way those words had to be clawed out of her, only when she was lying down, hurt, and couldn't run anymore. she trusts percy with this thing she's only trusted her brother with, if that - and at the same time, she can't even trust herself with loving and being loved without ruining it all.

it’s like. if she doesn’t get too close, it won’t hurt as much when he eventually, inevitably, leaves. whether he dies or walks away or makes a deal with a demon or a death goddess or whatever, he will leave, because they always leave, and the further she is, the less distance she’ll have to fall from. the softer the landing will be.

and then, if this is going the way i think it is, if we are building up to glintshore and the resurrection, then it won’t be soft at all. percy is going to die, and it is going to hurt vex so fucking horribly, and the distance will have meant nothing. all it will do is give her less memories to hold onto, now that he's gone. she will not hurt for the size of the hole in her heart, but rather for the lack of memory she has to fill it. a hole torn further open by the weight of the breadth of love unspent.

and then they're going to try and bring him back. and she will beg for another chance to do it right this time. she will give him her heart and everything she has, because she tried to do the casual distance, and she's learned that it hadn't done anything but hurt the both of them.

but she's not going to make that same mistake again.

[ganggangscenarios]

Bound by desire( Part 2/2)

Part 1

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Romance, comedy, dark, angst

Warnings: Dark Magic, mentions of sex

The days felt heavier without Jimin.

You tried to convince yourself you didn’t care—that his disappearance didn’t matter. But every time you glanced at the empty corner of your apartment where he used to linger, or when you passed a mirror and half-expected to see his teasing smirk over your shoulder, the ache in your chest deepened.

Had he given up on you?

The thought stung more than it should have. After all, he was a demon, wasn’t he? A creature of desire, not devotion. Maybe you’d been foolish to think there was something deeper beneath the surface.

Still, his absence left an undeniable void.

By the third day, Maddie noticed the shift in you.

“You okay?” she asked as you absently stirred your coffee, barely touching it.

“Yeah,” you lied, offering a faint smile.

She didn’t buy it but didn’t push. Instead, she patted your hand and said, “Whatever it is, it’ll work out. You just have to trust.”

You didn’t have much faith in trust right now, but her words stuck with you.

Far from the city, Jimin stood at the edge of a dirt path leading to a small cottage nestled in a field of wildflowers. The countryside was quiet, the kind of stillness he’d never known in his existence.

He hesitated before knocking on the door, half-hoping no one would answer. But after a moment, it swung open, revealing a man with dark hair and sharp eyes, his expression softening the moment he recognized Jimin.

“Well, if it isn’t my old partner in crime,” Yoongi said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jimin smirked faintly, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Can I come in?”

Yoongi nodded, stepping aside. “Sure, but fair warning—if you tracked any demonic nonsense into my house, my wife will kill you.”

Jimin chuckled despite himself, stepping into the cozy interior. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something freshly baked. A life Jimin had never imagined for someone like Yoongi.

They settled into the living room, Yoongi pouring tea as Jimin sank into an armchair.

“So,” Yoongi began, passing him a mug, “what brings you here? It’s been… what? Two centuries since I left?”

Jimin nodded, staring into his tea. “Yeah. And you’re still here. Still mortal.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t exactly planning to go back. Why?”

Jimin hesitated, his fingers tightening around the mug. “How did you do it? Become mortal.”

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened. “Why are you asking?”

“There’s someone,” Jimin admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “And I—” He paused, struggling to find the words. “I don’t want to be what I am anymore. Not if it means I can’t… really be with her.”

For a long moment, Yoongi didn’t say anything, just studied Jimin with an expression that was equal parts amused and sympathetic.

“Well,” Yoongi said, leaning back in his chair, “it’s not something you can cheat your way into. No rituals, no bargains, no shortcuts.”

“Then how?”

“Love,” Yoongi said simply. “Real love.”

Jimin frowned. “That’s it? That’s all it takes?”

Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head. “You make it sound easy. It’s not. She has to love you just as much as you love her. And it can’t just be words or promises—it has to be real. And when it is… well, if you’re truly ready to give up your powers, your immortality, everything… then, yeah. It works.”

Jimin stared at him, a mix of hope and doubt flickering in his eyes. “And… sex?”

Yoongi shrugged. “It seals the deal. But it’s not about the act itself. It’s about the trust, the vulnerability, the connection. If it’s true love, then yeah, it’ll make you mortal.”

Jimin leaned back, exhaling slowly. It sounded so simple, but he knew better. Love was messy, unpredictable. And the thought of you not feeling the same way—that maybe what you felt was just his aura, not him—was almost unbearable.

“Why are you hesitating?” Yoongi asked, watching him closely.

“Because I don’t know if it’s real,” Jimin admitted. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if it’s just… my powers making her want me?”

Yoongi smiled faintly. “You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.”

As Jimin made his way back to the city, the fields and trees blurring past him, he thought of you—your smile, your laugh, the way your presence softened the edges of his world.

If Yoongi was right, he needed to let you choose. To let you see him—not the incubus, not the demon, but just Jimin.

And for the first time in his long, immortal life, he felt fear. Fear of hope. Fear of love. Fear of losing you.

The sound of a soft whoosh broke the silence in your living room, followed by a familiar figure materializing out of thin air. You jumped, nearly toppling off the couch as tissues scattered around you like fallen petals.

Jimin stood there, his usual confident smirk absent for once. Instead, his expression was careful, his smoky eyes scanning your face.

“You’re back,” you said, your voice sharp but edged with something fragile.

“I—yeah,” he replied, his words uncharacteristically slow.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His gaze flicked to the mess of tissues around you, his jaw tightening slightly. Something in his chest twisted. Had he done this to you?

“Where the hell have you been?” you demanded, breaking the silence. Your voice wavered, betraying the hurt you’d tried to bury. “You just… disappeared. No explanation, no nothing. I thought—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard.

Jimin shifted on his feet, his usual grace faltering. He was quiet for a moment before finally saying, “I had… something I needed to figure out.”

“Figure out what?” you shot back, standing now, the anger bubbling to the surface. “Whether you should even bother coming back? Whether I’m worth it?”

His heart sank at your words, at the raw vulnerability in your tone. The truth was far more complicated than that, but he didn’t know how to explain it—not without confessing everything.

“You could’ve said something,” you continued, pacing now. “Instead of leaving me here wondering if you’d just given up. If your mission wasn’t worth it because I haven’t—”

You paused, turning to him, your cheeks flushing. “Because we haven’t… done anything yet.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, and Jimin felt his chest tighten.

“I didn’t leave because of that,” he said, his voice soft but firm. He took a cautious step closer, his hands at his sides. “And I haven’t given up.”

“Then why?” you demanded, your voice rising. “Why disappear? Why not just tell me what’s going on?”

Jimin hesitated, his throat tightening. How could he explain that he was terrified? That every second he spent with you made him question his purpose, his very existence? That he’d left not to run away but to figure out how to give you the choice you deserved?

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I was afraid I already had.”

You blinked at him, your anger faltering for a moment. “Hurt me?”

Jimin took another step closer, his eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t want you to feel like… like you didn’t have a choice. Like I was using you.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. The Jimin you knew was cocky, charming, and always quick with a flirtatious quip. But this Jimin—this quiet, uncertain version of him—felt different.

“Why would you think that?” you asked, your voice softer now.

“Because of what I am,” he admitted, his eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s what I’m made to do. To pull people in, to make them want me. But with you… I don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want it to feel like it’s not real.”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice cutting through your confusion and anger. “Jimin…”

He looked up at you then, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his gaze—something human.

“I just needed time,” he continued. “To figure out what I really want. And to make sure you have a choice. Because if this isn’t real—if you don’t really want me—I’d rather leave than take that from you.”

You felt your heart twist at his words, your frustration melting into something warmer, more complicated. You took a step closer, closing the distance between you.

“And did you figure it out?” you asked quietly.

He nodded, his gaze steady now. “Yeah. I did.”

“And?”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you thick but charged with something unspoken. Then you reached out, your fingers brushing his.

The air in your living room shifted abruptly, plunging into an unnatural chill. Before you could react, a thick cloud of black smoke coiled into existence, filling the space with a suffocating weight. The sharp tang of sulfur hit your nose as a figure materialized within the fog.

The man who emerged was tall and imposing, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His sharp suit seemed almost too modern for the otherworldly aura that radiated from him, and the way he sneered made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ah, Jimin,” the figure drawled, his voice smooth but laced with venom. “Still playing house with mortals, are we?”

Jimin stiffened, his body instinctively shifting to stand between you and the intruder. His relaxed charm was gone, replaced by a rigid tension you’d never seen before.

“Seongmin,” Jimin said tightly, his voice devoid of his usual playfulness.

Seongmin’s eyes flicked to you, a slow, deliberate grin spreading across his face. “Is this the reason for your… delay?” He gestured toward you with a mocking flourish. “I have to admit, she’s not what I expected. But then again, you always did like to stray from the script.”

You bristled at his tone, but before you could speak, Jimin stepped forward. “Leave her out of this.”

“Leave her out of this?” Seongmin repeated with a laugh, the sound cold and biting. “Jimin, she’s the whole reason you’re here. Or are you so distracted by playing mortal that you’ve forgotten your purpose?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jimin snapped, his voice low but laced with anger.

“Really? Because it seems to me like you’re stalling,” Seongmin said, his grin turning predatory. He took a step closer, his gaze narrowing. “You’ve been on Earth for weeks now. Weeks! And yet here you are, still in her living room, still… waiting.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“Ah,” Seongmin said, his eyes gleaming with mock realization. “So it’s true. You went to see him, didn’t you?”

Your confusion must have shown on your face because Seongmin turned to you with a sly smirk. “Oh, didn’t he tell you? Your precious Jimin paid a little visit to an old flame—a traitor, really. Yoongi, was it?”

You blinked, glancing at Jimin, whose face was set in a stony mask.

“You think you can pull off what Yoongi did?” Seongmin continued, his voice dripping with scorn. “You think you can abandon your nature, your duty, all for… what? Love?” He spat the word as if it were poison.

Jimin’s fists clenched at his sides. “Yoongi found a way. And if he can do it, so can I.”

Seongmin laughed again, the sound echoing unnaturally through the room. “You really think this little… infatuation is strong enough to break centuries of demonic bonds? That she’ll even choose you, knowing what you are?”

Jimin’s silence spoke volumes, and Seongmin’s grin widened.

“You’re a fool,” Seongmin sneered. “And worse, you’re wasting our time. Do you think the higher powers are going to sit around while you moon over some mortal? You have an ultimatum, Jimin. Fulfil your mission, or face the consequences.”

He stepped closer, his presence looming as the air grew heavier. “You have three days,” he said, his tone deadly serious. “Three days to finish what you started. If you fail, I’ll drag you back to the depths myself. And trust me, you won’t like what’s waiting for you.”

With that, Seongmin turned on his heel, the smoke swirling around him once more. But before he vanished completely, he glanced back at Jimin, his expression cold.

“Love,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What a pathetic excuse for failure.”

And then he was gone, the oppressive air lifting with his departure.

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned to Jimin, your heart pounding. “What… was that?”

But Jimin didn’t answer. He just stood there, his head bowed, his shoulders tense. For the first time, you saw something in him you never thought you would: fear.

The silence between you and Jimin was thick, his shoulders still tense from Seongmin’s visit. You stood there, searching his face for answers as your emotions warred within you—relief that he was here, fear of what had just happened, and something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Jimin… do you love me?”

He froze, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, he said nothing, his lips parting slightly as if the words were caught in his throat. The weight of your question pressed down on both of you.

“I…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. His hesitation made your chest tighten, but then he took a step closer, his smoky gaze steady. “Yes. I do.”

Your breath hitched, the room spinning slightly as the weight of his confession settled over you.

“But,” you started, your voice trembling, “how do I know it’s real? How do I know it’s not just… you?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You took a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Your powers,” you clarified, your voice growing firmer. “You’re an incubus. You said it yourself—you make people want you. How do I know that what I’m feeling is real? How do I know I love you and not just… whatever it is you do?”

Jimin’s expression softened, and he took another step forward, his presence warm and grounding. “My powers,” he said carefully, “don’t create love. They never could. Lust? Yes. Desire? Absolutely. But love?” He shook his head. “That’s not something I can control. Everything you’re feeling, everything you’ve felt… that’s all you.”

Your lips parted, his words washing over you like a tide. “So… everything I’ve felt—how much I care about you, how much I want you to be happy—that’s real?”

“It’s real,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours. “I promise.”

For a moment, the tension dissolved, replaced by a lightness you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. A small, elated smile broke across your face, and you reached for him, your fingers brushing against his. “Then I love you,” you whispered. “I really love you.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, his smoky eyes glimmering with emotion. He reached up to cup your face gently, his touch warm and steady. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.”

“But,” you said quickly, your tone shifting, “Seongmin, the ultimatum—how do we keep you safe? How do I keep you with me?”

Jimin’s gaze flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe, or fear. “There’s one way,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Tell me,” you urged, gripping his hand tightly. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the enormity of his next words. “If I become mortal,” he said finally, his voice steady, “they won’t have power over me anymore. I’ll be free. And I’ll be able to love you the way you deserve.”

Your heart raced. “How?”

His eyes locked onto yours, his expression serious. “It’s love,” he said simply. “True love. If you truly love me and we…” He hesitated, his cheeks coloring faintly in a way that made him seem more human than ever. “If we’re together—physically—it will bind me to this world. It’ll make me mortal.”

Your lips parted in surprise, your mind racing. “You mean… if we…”

Jimin nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. “But only if you’re sure,” he said firmly. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. This has to be your choice—completely, without any doubts.”

You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling. Love, fear, excitement, and determination all clashed within you. But when you looked at Jimin, when you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the answer became clear.

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady. “I want to do this. I want to be with you. And if it means keeping you here, safe and free, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For the first time since he’d arrived, Jimin smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything,” you murmured, holding him just as tightly.

You leaned up, your heart hammering as you closed the distance between you and Jimin. For a moment, he looked at you as if he couldn’t believe what was happening, his smoky purple-grey eyes wide and vulnerable. Then, you kissed him.

It started soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of something unspoken but deeply felt. His lips were warm, and he tasted faintly of something dark and sweet, like honeyed wine. Jimin froze for just a second before his hands slid up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that made your knees weak.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle, as though you were something precious and breakable. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, as if time itself had slowed to a halt.

When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling in the inches of space between you, Jimin’s eyes were searching, desperate, as though he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Jimin let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his forehead resting against yours. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice laced with both awe and yearning.

“I think I’m starting to,” you replied with a soft smile, your heart swelling with emotion.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jimin wasn’t the confident, flirtatious demon you’d met weeks ago. He was something more—someone who felt, who longed, who loved. And in that moment, you knew he wasn’t the only one who had changed. You had, too.

“I love you,” you whispered, and his breath hitched, his eyes glimmering with something raw and unguarded.

“I love you, too,” he replied, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled you back into his arms, holding you as though he never wanted to let go.

You lean forward to kiss him passionately, he sits up to meet your lips, his back resting on the headboard. He slips his fingers under your shorts and rubs your slit, coaxing moans from you. You grind into his hand and detach from his lips to kiss his neck. Feeling his fingers becoming wet with your arousal, he slowly dips a finger into you and you gently bite his neck. He grabs the back of your neck with his other hand and makes you look him in the eye.

“Does it feel good like this? Or can you be a good girl and take one more?” His hand travels into your hair, pulling at a few strands.

You had never seen him like this before, he was always so…nice.

You stare at him with your mouth open.

“Is my princess too slow to understand the question?” He pistons his finger faster into you.

You shake your head.

“I-I can but I want you to fuck me. I want you to be mine. I want to be yours forever .” You whine, sweat forming around your hairline.

Jimin tuts.

“Tsk tsk. “ he adds another finger into your sopping hole.

He curls his fingers up, making you fold in on yourself. Your head falls into his neck, breath hitting his skin.

You pull away from him, gaining the sudden confidence to take control. Pushing back onto the bed, you straddle him. Fingers eagerly reaching for his belt. But the nerves make your hands shake, he takes your hands in his.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven as Jimin hovered over you. His smoky eyes, those deep shades of purple and grey, held an intensity you’d never seen before. This wasn’t the usual teasing glint he carried, the smirk that promised trouble. This was… raw. Vulnerable.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a soft rasp, almost unsure.

You nodded, your hand reaching up to brush against his jawline. “I’m sure. But…”

His brow furrowed as he caught the hesitation in your tone. “But?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. “I just— I don’t want this to feel like… your job.”

Jimin froze, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, to your surprise, he laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “Trust me,” he murmured, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your temple, “this doesn’t feel anything like my job.”

You searched his face for any hint of deception, but all you found was a strange sort of tenderness. The usual cocky incubus facade was stripped away, leaving only Jimin, bare and genuine.

His fingers trailed lightly over your collarbone, and you shivered under his touch. “You’re nervous,” he noted, his voice soothing.

“A little,” you admitted.

“I can feel it,” he said with a small smirk, though there was no malice in it. “But I can also feel something else.” His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. “I want this to be perfect for you. For us.”

It struck you, then, just how far removed this moment was from his demonic nature. There was no overwhelming aura, no compulsion pulling you toward him. Just a connection—a human one, real and tangible.

When his lips found yours, the kiss was slow, unhurried. It wasn’t the fiery, lust-fueled encounter you might have expected from an incubus. It was soft, exploratory, as if he was savoring every second.

His hands wandered, but never too far, always checking for your permission. You responded in kind, your own touches tentative at first but growing bolder with each passing moment.

“Jimin,” you whispered, his name barely audible against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “What is it?”

“Why are you holding back?”

His smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of guilt. “Because I don’t want to ruin this,” he admitted, his voice quieter than before. “I’ve done this a thousand times before, but never like this. Never because I wanted to, not like this.”

You reached up, cradling his face in your hands. “I want you, Jimin. Not the incubus. Just… you.”

He exhaled, his body visibly relaxing at your words. And then he kissed you again, deeper this time, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that one moment.

Your fingers hesitated as they reached for his belt, trembling slightly as you fumbled with the buckle. Jimin tilted his head i, an amused

smile playing on his lips as he watched your concentration.

"Need a hand?" he teased, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine.

"I've got it," you muttered, though the stubborn belt seemed determined to prove you wrong.

Jimin chuckled softly, leaning in so his smoky breath brushed against your ear. "I could make this a lot easier, you know. Just say the word."

You paused, glancing up at him with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"

His grin widened, that mischievous glint sparking in his gaze. "Permission to use my powers?"

Before you could answer, his hand hovered near yours, his fingers grazing your skin. The room suddenly shifted-an almost imperceptible flicker of energy-and in the blink of an eye, the air grew warmer, your clothes pooling around you on the bed.

Your gasp was immediate, eyes darting down to find both of you completely undressed, the sheer intimacy of the moment making your cheeks burn. "Jimin!"

He leaned back slightly, his smirk widening as he shamelessly drank in the sight of you.

"What? You said I could."

"I didn't say anything!" you shot back, though the laugh bubbling up from your chest betrayed your indignation.

"Well," he murmured, leaning closer, his lips grazing your temple, "your silence said everything."

You shook your head, unable to suppress your smile as you pulled him down to you, your laughter dissolving into a kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, carrying the kind of heat that left you dizzy, and you found yourself melting into him completely.

"Show-off," you mumbled against his mouth, your words swallowed by his next kiss.

"Only for you," he whispered, his voice so low it was almost a hum, before letting the rest of the world fade away.

Your hand drifted downward, fingertips brushing over the growing heat between his thighs. You found him already half-hard, your touch drawing a sharp inhale from him. With deliberate pressure, you teased him, coaxing quiet, guttural sounds from deep within his chest.

"That feels so good," he breathed, his lips hovering just above yours. He pressed into you again, his kiss urgent, igniting a fire that had smoldered for far too long.

His hand rose to cup your breast, his thumb tracing slow circles over your hardening nipple. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kisses.

You had waited for this-longed for it. And now that it was finally happening, every touch felt like a spark igniting something primal and unrestrained. His lips trailed from the corner of your mouth, down your neck, lingering at the sensitive curve of your shoulder as he tugged one strap of your dress aside. His kisses were warm, his lips soft but firm, and his hands roamed your body like they'd been made to hold you.

One large hand slid to your thigh, his fingertips brushing the delicate skin. His touch lingered just below where you craved it most, his nails lightly grazing the scalloped edge of your underwear. He shifted, spreading your legs wider, his dark gaze locking with yours. The silent question was clear.

You nodded, breathless.

His fingers glided up your thighs, hooking into the edge of your panties. He tugged them down with practiced ease, the damp fabric clinging to your skin before slipping away. A soft shudder ran through you as the cool air kissed your exposed flesh. His hand returned, hovering over your heat before a single finger traced the length of your slit, the touch featherlight but electrifying.

"I bet you could just slide in," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as your teeth grazed his lobe. "I'm so wet."

He groaned low in his throat, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me feel you."

The sun breaks through the curtains, painting soft golden lines across the bed. You stirred first, your body sluggish but warm, the comforter tangled around your legs. The events of the previous night replayed in a hazy loop in your mind: Jimin’s confession, his touch, his kiss, the overwhelming way he held you like you were the center of his universe.

But as your eyes fluttered open, the other half of the bed was empty.

A pang of worry tightened your chest. Did he leave? you wondered. Then you remembered: Jimin didn’t need sleep. He likely hadn’t even tried.

You found him sitting on the windowsill, gazing out into the quiet street below. His shirt hung loosely off his shoulders, the morning light catching the soft purple undertones of his hair.

“You don’t sleep, do you?” you asked softly, your voice still rough from sleep.

He glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No,” he said simply. “Never had to.”

You pulled the comforter tighter around you and sat up. “But you’re still here.”

“I told you I’d be here,” he replied, standing and walking toward you. The mattress dipped as he sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your face. “I didn’t want to miss this—waking up with you, even if it’s just me watching.”

You sit comfortably in silence until you could hold in your curiosity no longer.

“Do you feel… different?”

Jimin’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered your words. He stretched, flexing his fingers, his lips pressing into a faint frown. “Not really,” he admitted, his tone uncertain. “I still feel… like me.”

Your heart sank a little at his response, and you tried to mask your disappointment. “Oh. Maybe it just… takes time?”

“Maybe,” he replied, though the disheartened note in his voice betrayed his own doubts.

The two of you lingered in bed for a while longer, silent but sharing the same heavy thoughts. Eventually, you suggested going for a walk to clear your minds.

As you stepped outside together, the crisp morning air nipping at your cheeks, your neighbor, Mrs. Kim, called out from across the street.

“Oh, good morning!” she said with a warm smile. “And who’s this?”

Jimin froze mid-step, his eyes widening slightly as he turned to you. You blinked at her, startled.

“Uh, this is…” you began, gesturing toward Jimin.

“Jimin,” he supplied quickly, his voice uncertain. “Nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Kim gave him a polite nod before continuing on her way, leaving the two of you standing there in stunned silence.

“Did you…” you started, turning to him. “Did you want her to see you?”

Jimin’s brows furrowed as he shook his head slowly. “No,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even think about it.”

Your heart started to pound, a spark of hope igniting in your chest. “Wait,” you said, stepping closer to him. “Try teleporting. Just… see if you can.”

He gave you a doubtful look but closed his eyes, concentrating. A few moments passed, and when he opened them again, he was still standing in the same spot.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice laced with disbelief.

The realization hit both of you at the same time.

“It worked,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

“I’m…” Jimin began, his expression shifting from confusion to awe. “I’m mortal.”

A breathless laugh escaped your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, holding him tight. He laughed too, a genuine, carefree sound that you realized you’d never heard from him before.

The walk back to your apartment was filled with an unspoken joy that neither of you could fully put into words. As soon as you stepped inside, Jimin went straight to the coffee table, where the spell book still sat. He picked it up, flipping through the pages for a moment before snapping it shut.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Jimin looked at you, his smoky eyes now warm and bright. “Getting rid of this,” he said simply. He walked to the trash can, tossing the book inside without hesitation.

“But—” you started to protest, only for him to turn back to you with a playful smirk.

“If you want to learn Latin, I’ll teach you,” he said, stepping closer. “But no more summoning demons. Agreed?”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “Agreed.”

Jimin reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

“No,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “Thank you.”

For the first time, Jimin’s life stretched before him, limitless and free. And for the first time, he was truly alive—with you.

[thebeatles-world]

John lennon x assistant reader enemies to lovers imagine?:D

It wasn’t exactly your dream job to be a assistant , but when the opportunity came, you couldn’t say no. Working with The Beatles in 1964 was supposed to be exciting, glamorous even, but dealing with John’s sharp tongue and constant sarcasm was more than you had bargained for.

From the moment you started, he seemed to take pleasure in making your life difficult. Late-night calls, impossible errands, little comments under his breath—it all made you want to scream. Every day felt like a battle. You’d argue over everything, from how you arranged his schedule to the way you brewed his tea.

“Are you ever going to get it right?” he’d say, with that smirk that both infuriated and, to your dismay, intrigued you.

But there was one person who made the chaos of working for The Beatles bearable—Ringo Starr. From day one, he was always kind, always checking in on you when John was being particularly difficult. You often found yourself laughing at his jokes, enjoying his company far more than John’s relentless teasing.

Little did you know, Ringo had started to develop feelings for you, watching from the sidelines as you and John butted heads. But he never said a word, always hiding his crush behind a friendly smile and a supportive presence.

One evening, after a particularly rough day where John had given you more grief than usual, Ringo found you sitting alone in the studio, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“You alright, love?” he asked, his voice soft, filled with concern.

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s John. He’s impossible.”

Ringo smiled gently, sitting next to you. “He’s not all bad, y’know. Just has a funny way of showing it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Funny’s not the word I’d use.”

But before Ringo could respond, John himself appeared in the doorway. “What’s this then? Crying to Ringo about me, are ya?”

You bristled, ready to snap back, but something in John’s eyes made you hesitate. He didn’t look quite as smug as usual. In fact, there was a flicker of something else—something almost vulnerable.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an insufferable—” you started, but John cut you off, stepping closer.

“You think I don’t notice how hard you’re working? I do. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just don’t know how to say it without sounding like an idiot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, confused by his sudden change in tone. “Say what?”

“That you’re not half bad yourself,” he muttered, looking away.

You blinked. John Lennon, complimenting you? It was so far from what you expected that you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could gather your thoughts, Ringo stood up, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” he said, his usual warmth gone, though his voice was gentle. He gave you one last, almost wistful smile before walking out, leaving you and John alone.

The silence stretched between you, tense and awkward. You crossed your arms. “What’s this about, John? If this is some kind of joke…”

“It’s not,” he said quickly, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m not good at this—saying how I feel. But I think… I think I’ve been giving you a hard time because I’ve been trying to push down something I shouldn’t.”

You felt your breath catch. “And what’s that?”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the seriousness in his eyes. “I like you. More than I should.”

For a moment, you stood there in stunned silence. John Lennon liked you? After all the bickering and back-and-forths? You didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at him for putting you through all the stress.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you said, your voice softening despite yourself.

He gave you a sheepish smile, the first genuine smile you’d ever seen from him. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly smooth, am I?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “No. You’re not.”

But before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his hand brushing yours. “Maybe I can try something else then,” he whispered, his voice low.

Your heart raced, and despite all the arguing, all the frustration, you found yourself leaning in too. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but full of a passion that had been hiding behind every sarcastic remark and heated argument.

And though it felt right in that moment, there was still a small ache in your chest—a flicker of guilt as Ringo’s kind face flashed in your mind. He had been there for you when John wasn’t, always with a smile, always with patience.

When you pulled away from John, you smiled, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t forget about the drummer with the quiet crush.

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Only Friends Episode 3 - Who am I to you?

Of which Boston essentially ruins everything 😮‍💨🙅🏾‍♀️

Nick & Boston

We start with a montage of Nick and Boston having countless highly charged encounters. And while Boston is happy to maintain the status quo, we see Nick starting to question things, unsatisfied with the FWB/f*#k buddy label.

He asked the internet (and good on P’Jojo and P’Ninew to make a cameo!!!) and did not like the answers he was given. He also found TopBoston photos in their hook up room.

Not surprisingly, he starts becoming suspicious of Boston even while still being in love with Boston (urgh, I guess we cannot choose who we have feelings for, even if it’s someone as narcissistic and selfish as Boston 😮‍💨)

Boston/Nick relationship is on the verge of imploding (well more to do with Nick side, as Boston is currently unaware of it, and even if he does - I don’t think he cares, cause he has always treated Nick as hookup friend and nothing more).

Not to say Nick is an altogether innocent individual - remember he masturbated on Boston's selffie (while looking through a client phone plus putting his own topless picture in said phone), followed by snooping on Boston/Top social media and putting a spyware device in Boston's car (Nick, dearest - we call this stalking 🙅🏾‍♀️ And you can get into big trouble with the authority with this!!)

However, Boston definitely takes the award for being a shitty friend, his ego and pride is bruised when Top decline him, and just to get an up over Top - he used Ray's crush on Mew, putting doubt on both Ray and Top's feelings, trailing havoc and carnage to basically Ray, Mew, Top AND Nick's emotions.

I have the gut feeling the photo/video of Ray/Mew (of course I may be proven wrong with episode 4!) do not tell the whole picture - but the suggestive way he framed it to Top, well...we all know what happened next.

Again, I will reiterate, how creepy Boston is - taking pictures and videos without consent (I bet RayMew did not know their pictures/videos were taken on that day!).

Top & Mew

These 2 were adorable together when they went on the silent DJ date - I thought listening to your own kind of music with headphones and just jamming together is a fun idea!

But we start seeing cracks - Top had been so patient with Mew (acting all gentlemanly, playing nice with Mew's friends etc). And we can see he had refrained from going out on his usual hunts (I think the scene of him running in his old hook up buddy (with Mew!), where the ex basically insinuating Top has been missing from the scene and ignoring his msg/calls means to highlight this) - You can see Top appears uncomfortable with that scene, and while Mew is all smiley (and acting all oblivious), I suspect he clocks on this (but whether he chose to act on it, well, it's a different matter altogether).

And so, when Boston showed the RayMew picture, it hits on his vulnerability. Boston knows this - and he has always been good at exploiting on people's weakness. Do I think Top should have given in? Of course not (I mean, why can't he called Mew and asked for an explanation???, urgh...). But, this is a man who up until a few months ago, was having regular sex, using this as a substitute for insomnia and loneliness. Paired with the thought he may be the only one holding the end of his bargain, thinking Mew lied to him - well, in a moment of weakness, Boston pounced (and aptly the reason why he is call The Hunter on the first episode).

I'm sure this moment will bring regret to Top almost immediately after he has done the deed, and knowing Boston he will used this to further emotionally blackmail Top.

Sand & Ray

Look, these 2 are my babes. Not gonna lie. Every time they come on screen, I smile. Their banters are a joy to watch. Ray is a charming flirt (also I love his wardrobe, and so kudos to whoever styled Khaotung in those jackets, jeans, tops), and Sand sarcastic responses are always on point.

We already established Ray is lonely, even within his close circle of friends (who I don't think know him very well at all). And so, to find someone with the same taste of music, don't seem to be faze by his money and as a bonus, attractive and someone he finds sexually compatible, well, that's like a jackpot for him.

The way their friendship/relationship blossoms is great to watch - Sand is clearly struggling to keep his boundary with Ray, who is persistent and keeps pushing the right buttons on him. I don't think he ever stood a chance, especially after Sand told him in episode 2 "I can be you friend, you don't have to pay me." I think Ray basically took it as green light to do well, everything and anything - oh, both of them may want to keep it as "friends who had sex once" - but well, it doesn't seem to go very well from both end.

I have no doubt we are heading towards painville with this as well. Especially with Ray's alcoholism still on the horizon and Mew being in the picture - do I think Ray still love Mew? Yes - but I think he is slowly moving from looking at Mew as an unattainable bf/lover to just close friend. Mew has made it clear to Ray many times in episode 2/3 he sees Ray as a friend. And Ray (no matter how dysfunctional he is), has always respected Mew's decision. However, if Ray keeps dropping Sand for Mew each time, that's going to get old very fast for Sand.

(Also, I need to know what’s the beef between TopSand asap!! The middle finger 🖕 by Sand???? Classic 😂)

Namchuem and April

I wish we get more of this side couple. We barely heard April talk in the last 2 episodes. They seem so sweet together. But also Namchuem, we need to talk how oblivious you are with the other 3 boys in your circle of friends. I don't know whether she knows and just choose to ignore what's happening or she genuinely is oblivious.

Alright, now that I finished ranting, I am ready for episode 4 - is it Saturday yet?

27/08/2023

[indelibleevidence]

Broken Wings, chapter 4

Author's Note: Also on FFN and AO3. This one's a little bit shorter, sorry! I'm still adjusting the ending, so I wanted to buy myself another week. It should be two chapters more, at most.

*

Remi had gone quiet. Normally, he’d be relishing the chance to just hold her, stroke her hair, enjoy the moment, but Kurt couldn’t help but worry about what was going on in her head.

This had been the first time Remi had made love to him. Sure, they’d had slow, decadent sex before, but always because he’d bargained it out of her, in exchange for the wilder, more kinky encounters they had. But today…

Fuck.

She’d actually dropped her guard, at least most of the time. He could barely believe it, but she’d admitted that she loved him, in every way except verbally. He’d gotten more than he’d dared to hope for.

He wanted to know what came next, whether she’d come home for good, but he was too afraid to ask, not wanting to pressure her. Did his love add to her emotional burden, or ease it? Where could he start the discussion without alarming her?

Remi sighed against his chest. “You’re thinking too hard. Just say it.”

Despite his fears, he couldn’t help but smile a little at her directness. “You sure?”

There was a hint of discomfort in her voice, now. “As sure as I can be.”

He paused for a moment, choosing his wording. “If I asked you again to come home…would you want that?”

“This isn’t about what I want, Kurt.”

Kurt frowned up at the ceiling, not following her train of thought. “How so?”

“What I mean is… Jane fits here. In your home, in your life. I don’t think I can walk in her footsteps anymore.”

“That’s not what I want.”

Remi froze, and he realised she’d taken the words in the worst possible way. Tightening his arms around her before she could start to fight free of them, he elaborated, “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. You can just be you.”

She sighed, letting herself relax again, though not to the point she’d been before. Her voice was weary, despairing. “You haven’t been listening. I don’t know what that means anymore. That’s why I wanted the ZIP.”

Kurt tried to swallow the lump in his throat, wishing he could take away her uncertainty and pain. What could he say or do to reassure her, besides telling her he loved her, and wanted her in his life?

Before he could figure it out, Remi broke the silence again. “I don’t fit here. I won’t go back to the FBI—even if I wanted to, which I don’t, Reade will never forgive me. Zapata…I can’t forgive her for what she did, selling out Roman to the woman who killed him. Rich and Patterson… I don’t know what they even think of me now. And Allie? You can’t tell me she’d be thrilled to have me around your daughter.”

She’d really thought about this, in enough detail that it gave Kurt hope. She’d tried to imagine fitting in, back in New York. Part of her wanted that. Focus on that.

“Maybe the FBI isn’t where you belong anymore,” he started slowly, trying to work out the best approach. “But don’t count the team out until you’ve talked to them. As for Allie… Sure, she’ll have concerns. But she trusts me, and she knows I’d never put our kid in harm’s way. You’ve had the chance to hurt Bethany before, and you didn’t. Allie will get to know you better, over time.”

Remi was silent, and he thought back to what she’d almost said earlier. It’s not you I don’t trust.

That had been a huge revelation, one that had almost made her panic. But she’d fought her fear of vulnerability, and she’d stayed. He’d been honestly stunned that she had. Every time he thought he could predict her limits, she pushed out of her comfort zone. For him.

“If I don’t have a job, I don’t have anything but you. That’s not gonna work. It wasn’t working in Colorado—Jane already told you that.”

“I know. But you don’t have to commit to a new career right away. You can try different things—see what fits. Go back to school, if you want.”

Remi snorted. “I hated school.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn’t see him. “Are you gonna think about this, or are you gonna shoot down everything I say?”

 “Haven’t decided yet,” she retorted, an edge to her voice.

Kurt waited, breathing away his irritation. It wouldn’t help to provoke her even more.

With a sigh, she turned over onto her back, leaving his embrace. Scowling, she told the ceiling, “When I try to imagine my future, I just get…nothing. It’s hopeless.”

Despite her expression, there was a bleak note to her voice that made his heart ache. He took her hand, wanting to connect with her somehow, across the inches of distance she’d put between their bodies.

“Take that nothing, and put me in it. Me, and the apartment. Work, and the team, and Bethany…those things can all come later. Just start with me. With us.”

“You’re my starting point?” she murmured, a bittersweet smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

He rolled onto his side, kissed her bare shoulder. “Always.”

Remi turned her face away from him, as though not wanting to reject his advance, but feeling too emotionally raw to meet his gaze. “I underestimated how far the ZIP would go,” she admitted softly.

He stayed quiet for a moment, putting mental jigsaw pieces together. “You mean, how you’d end up after you took it?”

“How much Jane would let you in.” She shrugged. “When I get scared, I push people away. But Jane… She dropped her defences. She showed you her soul, without you even needing to earn it.”

She was drowning, just like you are now. She didn’t know who she was. Kurt swallowed the words, knowing any comparison between Remi and Jane was a sure way to aggravate her.

“When I came back to myself, I couldn’t believe how much of me you knew. How well you could sense when something was wrong. How many of Jane’s fears and doubts she’d trusted you with. You could have torn her apart and made her into your puppet. Part of me thought that was what you’d done.”

“I remember.” How could he ever forget those harsh words? She was a blank slate when she crawled out of that bag, and you made her into exactly what you needed her to be.

Kurt had vehemently denied it at the time, but her opinion had worked into his mind like a splinter, irritating and painful. Part of him had always worried he was taking advantage of Jane’s confusion and need for connection, right from the moment he’d realised she had feelings for him. It was why he’d made such an abrupt exit from her safehouse, the night she’d told him he was her starting point.

After they’d become a couple, Jane had assuaged his concerns, pointing out that she’d been the one to make all the initial advances, and that her time at the black site would have wiped away any infatuation based solely on their power dynamic. But still, Remi’s barbed assessment had struck a nerve, especially since it had come from the lips he’d kissed thousands of times.

“Between that and Sandstorm’s fall, and then finding out I was dying…” She glanced over at him, then away again, and he caught a glimpse of shame in her expression. “I made you into what I needed you to be. An enemy.”

“You needed something to fight.” He’d always understood that. It was just part of who she was—Jane or Remi, or whatever blend of the two she’d become, she’d always hated being helpless.

Remi swallowed hard, her jaw set so firmly that Kurt suspected she was fighting tears. But if there was one thing he’d learned about Remi, it was when he should keep his distance and let her come to him.

He squeezed her hand, letting her know that he was there for her, but said nothing else.

After a minute, she gritted out, “If I move back in here, I’ll do it again.”

Her mind had gone somewhere he couldn’t follow, right when it was most critically important that he listen and understand. He was failing her, and the thought sent an instinctive, sick jolt through his system before he quelled it. “Do what again?”

Remi shot him a quick, impatient glance. “Make you an enemy. Fight you. Because fighting is the only thing I know how to do, and you’re the only one left.”

Oh, Remi.

He would have to tread so carefully. There was a high chance that she’d just laugh derisively and begin pulling on her clothes. But if she didn’t…maybe he could start to stitch this raw emotional wound, the way he’d stitched the gash across his name on her back, last year.

“You can fight without having an enemy.”

“What, you want me to shadow-box my way through life?”

Part of him was tempted to argue that she already was, but that would only piss her off.

“I’m not talking about swinging at the empty air.”

He braced himself, knowing this was the moment she’d start to build up all her defences again, but there was nothing he could say to prevent it. She’d see right through empty platitudes, and this was the only other thing he could offer.

“I’m talking about a perspective change.”

She glared across the foot of space that separated them. “I’m not going back to therapy, Weller.”

“I didn’t say therapy, unless that’s what you want.” It would make him the worst kind of hypocrite, given the way he’d wasted every mandatory session the FBI had thrown at him. “I’m saying, find something to fight for. Not something to fight against.”

As he’d known she would, Remi rolled her eyes. “To protect and serve, like you?”

He ignored her bait. “When you were in the orphanage with Roman, and you got into fights with the other kids, did you fight because you’d been planning to hurt them? Or were you were making sure they wouldn’t come after your brother?”

“That was different. I was a child, being held against my will.” She pulled her hand from his and sat up, avoiding his gaze.

Kurt’s heart sank. He was losing her, and he had no idea what he could do to bring her around.

“Back when you were under as Jane, and Oscar was giving you missions, did you do them because you thought it was right, or because you wanted to stop Sandstorm from killing me?” He pushed himself upright, too.

“I don’t remember,” she mumbled, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, then reaching for her clothes.

“Yes, you do.” He wasn’t completely sure of it, but it seemed likely that she’d regained those memories. “And this whole time you’ve been gone, you haven’t been running because you’re trying to hurt me. You’ve been protecting yourself. Fighting for yourself, not against me.”

She froze for the briefest instant, then pulled her shirt over her head. “You don’t know anything.”

“You already told me it was for self-defence.” He shifted across the bed to catch her eye, gently turning her face to his. “And right now, you’re trying to run because you’re doing it again.”

“I’m trying to protect you, you idiot,” she retorted sharply. “Not myself.”

She’d meant it as a rebuke, but he saw through the irritation to her sincere intent, and warmth built in his chest. “I love you, too.”

Remi rolled her eyes again, but he sensed she was close to surrender.

“You’ve hurt me. I won’t deny that. We’ve both said terrible things to each other, and we probably will again. But it’ll hurt way more to see you leave, not knowing if you’ll ever come back. It scares the hell out of me, knowing you’ll be out there alone, wishing for death while you’re fighting people who are trying to make that happen. If you want to protect me, protect me from that.”

Her shoulders sagged, and he caught a glimpse of the emotional weight that was dragging her down—a vast, dark weariness and sense of futility that she quickly masked.

“I’ll stay the night,” she said quietly.

It was a small concession to his fears, but under the circumstances, it felt monumental. As long as she was there, breathing, physically safe, he could deal with whatever she threw at him—or at herself. “Thank you.”

[invinciblerodent]

And now that I'm talkin' act 2, I'm very preoccupied today by thinking about how Iona (with her high charisma and crooked morality) had the innate potential to be such an incredibly toxic, deeply unsettling presence in the party -especially to Astarion-, without even meaning to be.

Like. She's a liar, and an accomplished one, a legitimate master of the craft (with her +14 to deception on even a bad day), who's had decades to hone her craft by living in her lie and not breaking (in both the sense of not breaking character and the sense of not breaking herself)- there's no two ways to spin that. But most of the party seems to be able to accept that she isn't going to turn this talent against them, and they seem to believe that their own conversations with her have either been honest, or close enough to it to count as such. She says nice things and is perfectly pleasant, she's generally kind and understanding towards them, follows through, and if she is uncomfortable with a question or a topic, she'll more readily tell them "don't ask, and I won't lie" than deceive them, so they mostly just accept that: they seem to be able to trust a liar that's at least honest about being a liar.

But Astarion? Sure, he's the most like her in the group, but the main difference between them is that she's not going off a playbook perfected by centuries of experience, she's just actually good at this, and there's little way for just how scary that is to take root in his mind until like... early- to mid-act 2.

Sure, she's spun many a pretty tale for goblins, cultists, zealots, and other assorted people desperate enough to believe anything before then, but his very own unexamined biases prohibit him from seeing those people as anything more than simple idiots. There's no harm, those people would have always been convinced by the obvious, bare-faced lies she had told with almost a wink and a smile in his direction. Hell, their very own little game of flirtation was conducted with a very subtle undercurrent of mutual understanding that their bullshit is bullshit, at least in part, and the give and take of it was trying to find the other's limits on where the bullshit ends, and the truth begins. She had him off-balance and forced him into going off-script for the first time in centuries, and while that's of course uncomfortable, it's also... kind of fun, in its way. Novel.

But then, once they get closer to Moonrise... it starts getting a bit intimidating.

She talks a mad drider into giving over his only means of protection and walking willingly into the deepest depths of the Shadow Curse.

She goads the surgeon into letting his assistants murder him by spinning it as teaching, and he dies with a smile on his face.

She bargains with a cambion for Wyll's soul, and comes out on top.

She talks an orthon into wiping out his followers and then killing himself, in part as a favor to Astarion specifically.

And while that's all profoundly impressive, there's still something in the way that tiny hint of an impish smile is still playing in the corner of her lips that just... makes his brain prickle with unease.

But in such a deeply vulnerable moment, as he's requesting her aid with Cazador, admitting feeling fear, weakness, damn near everything he loathes the most in himself, when he looks at her... He can see nothing but utter sincerity. She tells him "Of course I'll help. We'll hunt him down and kill him." as if it was the simplest damn thing on the plane, and he believes her.

He's stuck stewing with that odd feeling and trying to figure out what to say for the entire next day, distracted and oddly quiet. Either way, that night, before he'd know it or could stop it, I like to think that the words -however much he would prefer to stay cool about it- are just spilling from his mouth like that because he just needs her to understand that the game is over. He wants it to be over, and isn't over essentially admitting defeat, admitting that he's not lying to her anymore, that he hasn't been lying to her for a while now if he's to be really honest, and that he needs her to not lie to him anymore either. "I want us to be something real."

(I wish I could use the tadpole connection to let him into her head, AND hug him, AND say "we can be together without sleeping together" all at the same time tbh. But the hug will suffice for the scene, the rest can happen in just m'fic. <3)

[tommyshelbysrighthand]

Tried to post this once but I was not happy with it. Second attempt, here we go.

Anyway, I'm shamelessly using this idea to get over my writing slump, sue me. (Please don't)

But I hope you enjoy this, if you end up reading it!

Little things

Alfie always took pride in his ability to read people. More often than not, he was right about people and their intentions.

This skill was something he often found useful in his line of work. It was always easier to keep your allies loyal when you knew what motivated them to keep from going out there looking for greener grass, what fears to use against them and what to sell, what to bargain with.

All this was to say, he was rarely surprised by anyone, really. That was until he met the thorn in his flesh, and possibly the love of his life, mr. Tommy Shelby himself. Not that he would be saying that out loud anytime soon. The man in question was like a scared kitten when it came to emotions and vulnerability. The last thing Alfie wanted was to scare him off, now that they were making progress.

Slwoly, and not very surely, things were moving along. It all was very slow and tedious work, chipping away at the sky high walls he had built around himself.

They were at a point where Tommy agreed to step inside Alfie's home. Not only that, but he had stayed the night quite a few times by now. That was huge. The first time they kissed, Tommy had looked like he was back in the fucking trenches of France, before running off without a word and then ignoring Alfie for almost three months.

Needless to say, emotional and physical space alike, were a constant in this arrangement they had going on.

That is why Alfie was baffled, to say the least, when he was staring at a half naked, still sleepy Tommy Shelby in his bathroom doorway, leaning against it casually while Alfie himself was in the middle of taking his morning piss.

"Morning, Alfie," he said with a hoarse voice.

"Sure is, mate," Alfie replied out of habit, while trying to figure out what on earth was going on for this to be happening.

"You uhh.. alright there, treacle? Need something?" he asked, genuinely concerned that something wasn't right.

Tommy just gave him a slightly puzzled look, like Alfie was the one being weird right now.

"Need you to hurry up so I can go," Tommy replied flatly, like it was obvious.

Only then did Alfie snap back to the moment and remember what he was in the middle of.

"Right. Obviously..," he muttered to himself as he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up.

It wasn't often that Alfie found himself speechless, but right now he was genuinely at a loss for words so he just walked out of the bathroom, past Tommy.

"You're being weird, Alfie," Tommy helpfully commented as he made his way to the toilet.

Alfie was starting to think he was having a weird dream or something. Surely this man didn't just interrupt him taking a piss and then have the nerve to call Alfie weird? Once more, Alfie did not have anything insightful to add to that.

"Alright, well if you say so then it must be true," he replied.

Tommy didn't feel like the subject at hand needed to be discussed further so he stayed silent while continuing with the task at hand, seemingly not giving a singular fuck that Alfie was still within sight.

But Alfie, unlike some people, apparently, was a decent and polite person, so he closed the door and wandered off to prepare tea.

By the time Tommy made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, Alfie was over the whole ordeal, thinking it was just Tommy being tired and groggy still. Besides, it's not like it was a huge deal. It was just.. unusual. Alfie wasn't used to being surprised.

Tommy had already dressed up and was clearly planning on leaving as soon as possible. He produced a cigarette from his pocket while he sat down, opposite to Alfie.

"I need to go," he said and lit the cigarette, ignoring the look of disapproval from Alfie.

"Yeah yeah, I know this about you, don't I? The world needs Tommy Shelby or it ceases to exist, eh?"

There was no bite to his rambling and Tommy knew Alfie was just saying this because he would've liked to keep him around longer. Tommy cleared his throat as he finished his breakfast cigarette and stumped it on an ashtray that Alfie had generously stolen and placed there, just for him.

"I'll see you, Alfie," he said as he got up. But before turning to leave he hesitated for a second, looking at Alfie's eyes and then his lips briefly. Whatever it was he was contemplating, he decided against and pressed his hat on before walking out of the kitchen.

"Sure thing, sweetie," Alfie said, unsure if Tommy even heard it. It didn't really matter. Tommy was acting strange. So interrupting Alfie taking a piss is whatever, but kissing him goodbye is simply too much. Crossing a line there, truly.

The next incident that caught Alfie by surprise, was in a less domestic setting. Namely, in Alfie's office. There had been an unfortunate silly little argument that ended with Alfie being covered in copious amounts of blood. Not his own, mind you, but it was still a shame, his white shirt was basically useless now. It's not like Alfie enjoyed beating people within an inch of their lives, but there was a concerning lack of fucking discipline within his minions. That needed fixing, and that was how he was where he was.

In his office, dripping blood and considering calling it a day and going home. In the middle of his sulking, he was rudely interrupted by Ollie marching into his office to inform him that Tommy Shelby was here to see him.

"You didn't tell me we had a meeting today," Alfie accused Ollie and glared at the poor boy like he was considering jumping him next.

"You don't mr. Solomons, I don't know why he is here but he is insisting-..," Ollie tried to explain nervously.

"Yeah yeah fine. Whatever, let the man in, then. We'll see what he wants," Alfie interrupted Ollie's spiraling with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ollie scrambled off and Alfie tried to make himself somewhat presentable, at least wiping the blood from his face and hands. He was facing away from the door when Tommy walked in, looking for a handkerchief from one of his drawers.

"Alfie, what's all this talk about me not having a booked meeting, hm? Didn't realize I needed a fucking-.. oh," Tommy trailed off as Alfie turned around to face him.

"Yeah mate, 'Oh' is correct," Alfie deadpanned while still absent mindedly wiping his hands. His mood had significantly improved with the knowledge that Tommy was here, if he was being honest.

"Well then, out with it, eh? Don't look so-..,"

"Yours?" Tommy interrupted him while eyeing Alfie suspiciously.

"'Course it isn't mine. What is it with you today, eh? You've seen worse, mate, I know this for a fact," Alfie replied, secretly finding the poorly concealed worry adorable.

Tommy's squared shoulders relaxed and lowered just the tiniest bit at this, and he dug around his coat pocket for a cigarette.

"Alright then," he said, placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it. After that he proceeded to walk up to Alfie and snatch the bloodied handkerchief from him. He carefully cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek and the corner of his mouth. His beard was somewhat difficult, but he got it done.

Alfie watched Tommy while this was occurring, dumbfounded and once again, stunned to silencce. Tommy didn't seem to mind the quiet, focused on the task and smoking his cigarette while at it.

"There," he muttered and nodded slightly while eyeing his handywork and apparently being satisfied with it. He tossed the handkerchief on Alfie's desk and wandered off towards Alfie's cabinet.

"What-..," Alfie watched as Tommy opened the doors and started going through his stuff like it was his God given right.

"Can I help you with something there, doll?" Alfie asked, remembering he has legs and is capable of using them and therefore making his way to the gremlin digging away in his drawers.

"Where are your spare clothes?" Tommy demanded to know, turning to Alfie and curiously investigating some old documents he found buried at the back of one of the shelves.

Alfie snatched the papers from him. He was sure they were old and basically useless at this point, but it was besides the point.

"What are you talking about? I don't keep spare clothes in my office," he inofrmed Tommy, who now looked at him with distaste.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because it's an office, Tommy, you know what those are for, hm? And what are you still doing in my cabinet?" Alfie asked. Not accusingly, though, he was finding the situation rather amusing and was slightly struggling to keep the smile off his face.

"Come here, silly boy;" he said and pulled Tommy gently away from the shelves by his arm and cupped his face with both hands.

"You, mate, have become soft," he stated matter of factly and was no longer trying to keep his face neutral.

Tommy frowned and swatted Alfie's hands away, but there was no indication of him being actually offended.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied dryly, but Alfie noticed he was struggling to keep eye contact. The man known for his piercing and unyielding gaze, the infamous Tommy Shelby, was flustered.

"Aww treacle, don't be like that," Alfie chuckled and booped his nose just for the hell of it. He had got started and now found himself unable to stop. Maybe he himself had become soft.. fuck it, he wouldn't even try to deny that. "I'm a big boy, you don't need to worry about me, eh? Can't say I don't appreciate it, though, I do, truly. Come to think of it, how much would it cost me to have you as a maid, hm?"

One thing about Alfie was that once he started talking, he would not stop before either being told to shut the fuck up or getting punched to the face. Right now, it was hard to tell which outcome was more likely.

Tommy was glaring at him with a look that would have your ordinary man praying to his maker for a painless and quick death. But Alfie knew better. There was just the smallest hint of blush on his cheeks and a barely noticeable twitch to the corner of his mouth.

Alfie chuckled and patted Tommy to the shoulder. "There there, I'm just talking out of my ass. You know how I get when there's a pretty little thing such as yourself walzing around my office," he said in an attempt to calm down the little murder machine in front of him. It seemed to work.

Tommy cleared his throat and decided to move on from the subject.

"Well, if you're done being weird, I did actually have something to discuss with you, mr. Solomons," he said and invited himself to sit down to the chair across from Alfie's desk.

Alfie almost laughed. There it was again, the weird accusation. Oh well, he could live with being branded "weird" if it meant getting to see this new, carefully hidden side of Tommy Shelby.

"Why of course, mr. Shelby," he replied and walked to his own chair, sitting down and getting ready to hear out the man sitting across from him.

What had started as a bad day had quickly turned into one of the best days Alfie could remember. And all because the feared gang leader Tommy Shelby stormed into his office and made it his right to dig around Alfie's personal belongings. Life truly was weird and the Lord did work in mysterious ways.

i need an one-shot where alfie suddenly discovers that tommy has an almost absent understanding of personal boundaries cuz he grew up with siblings

[falling-pages]

Bend the Knee: Kyoya x Reader

Thanks @ouranbound for the idea <3

-

“I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present."

-

Sometimes Kyoya's betrothed needs help adjusting from their commoner life to one of splendor.

-

Kyoya Ootori x gn! Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship, arranged marriage, Commoner! Reader

Warnings: None

-

“Quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. You complain about that job every night, so just resign.”

You sit up on the couch, gasping to even begin to make the young heir understand how preposterous his words were. He barely even noticed, just kept his eyes glued to his novel as you were having a crisis. Just another normal Tuesday in this household. “I can’t quit just like that, without two weeks’ notice.”

“The other employees did.”

“But I’m their best,” you scramble, “I can’t bail while they’re still looking for two more people.”

Kyoya scoffed, licking his fingertip and turning a page. “Is that how they treat their best? Overworked and underpaid? They don’t sound like very good bosses to me.”

“It’s not that, it’s…”

It was that. It was exactly that, which made his smug smile all the more frustrating, igniting that fire under your nails to just punch his lights out. But then you’d have to admit it’s bothering you, and he would win, and even though you were engaged to marry this man, you just couldn’t have that.

You ran your hands through your hair, dropping back down onto the couch. His office futon wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, perhaps to discourage relaxation during work hours, but it’s what you dealt with in order to spend time with him in the evenings, a change you would certainly implement once your name was on the deed and in the will--a revamp of his working space was imperative.

But you supposed you couldn’t complain. It was your little life together, where he manages a multi-billion dollar empire and you whine about your job, where he pretends to not pay attention while you spill your guts. What was the sense in commenting when he knew you wouldn’t take his advice?

“I’ve worked hard for this position,” you settle on, closing your eyes and letting your brain do the work. “I’ve climbed the ladder and gotten promotions and I used to feel so important, and it isn’t my dream job, sure, but I’ve enjoyed the process.”

“Then it’s time to move on to something different,” he suggests, and his tone is softer than usual, though still careful to sound detached. “You know I have more than enough money to provide for you and our family someday. Is that not enough?”

You open your eyes when the voice sounds closer, right above you, and you see him kneeling down beside you on the couch. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back down, helping you stretch out your spine, shake out the stresses in your limbs. And when he takes your hand, drawing his long fingers over the arch of your wrist and against your palm, you were startled to see him at eye-level.

Kyoya Ootori bent his knee to no one except you, and only once, when he slipped that pretty gold ring on your finger. But here where you lay, your faces were on the same level, and you felt like an equal.

“The world I come from isn’t black and white, Kyoya,” you say, as he strokes the back of your knuckles. Such tenderness was seldom seen from him, but you revel in it, grasp onto it with dirty fists and brazen recklessness. To have him so attentive to your needs and listening to you was rare. It was a privilege, a standard you would soon be held to, as well. “To be just...launched into fame because my dad won the lottery is hard, I still need to adjust. It can all be gone in a second, so I can’t just drop something. I can’t...sever the safety net. They need me to keep the place afloat, and even as tough as it has been, I can’t leave on such bad terms. They need me. Just for a little bit longer.”

He sighs your name like the afterthought of a prayer, settling his other hand beside you on the couch. His fingers dig into every indentation, as if joining your discovery of its stiff cushions. The sheen in his glasses signaled he’d look into it, but there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

He remained silent, odd for a man with all the answers, but he continued to look at you, not like he was trying to drill a hole through your head, but like you were a puzzle he was just beginning to figure out.

“Have I really been so absent, my love?” he whispered, raising his hand to your face. One finger stroked along your cheek, slowly, lulling you into peace. “I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present. Please, forgive me.”

All of the air was knocked out of your chest as his gentle words, so soft that you almost didn’t recognize him. When your parents betrothed you, and when you fell in love with him, agreed to marry him, even, you knew that he would always be an Ootori, with every string attached. You were ready for the challenge, ready to be with this man no matter what--but his sudden kindness was unexpected, the poetic words unfamiliar in your ears.

“Kyo, you think I wouldn’t forgive you?” you ask, taking off his glasses.

He let you, and when you set them on the nearby stand, his dark eyes glittered with something you had never seen before. Deeper than love, deeper than compassion, a feral protectiveness mixed with sadness skating across his face. It was so rare you saw him without this shield of his, you had almost forgotten how his eyes were like galaxies, like the murky night sky, expansive, swallowing everything in its path.

“If I had been suffering so, I wouldn’t forgive my partner had they not noticed,” he said.

“I’m not suffering...”

“Mmm-mm.” He shuttered your lips closed with his finger, and you couldn’t help but return the affection and press a kiss to it. He smiled, softly, and you thought about how long it had been since you had seen that smile, and how long it had been since he’s seen yours, too.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing my feelings,” he said, and when you snorted, he rolled his eyes and leaned away. “See, this is exactly why.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, giggling. The feeling was foreign in the pit of your chest, drumming near your spine. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, softly wiping where you had kissed him, a repetitive, soothing motion. “I’m not the best at expressing my feelings. I’ve been raised to think that if you throw money at something, it will go away. It’s a powerful position to hold, knowing you can change everyone’s fates on a whim, but…” he swallowed, breaking eye contact, and you felt his energy shift into something vulnerable. “But you changed that. You make me feel...you make me feel. And at first I didn’t like it. I loved you, but I didn’t like what you did to me. I didn’t like how you made my world shift off-balance, until I realized my world was no longer my family’s company or stocks or what other stiffs thought of me. It was you.”

You tried to lean up and kiss him, but he grabbed your hands and held them in his own. “Please, let me finish, I want...I want you to know. We’ve been betrothed for so long, but I’d like to think we were only truly engaged when I bowed to you with that ring.”

“Okay,” you breathed, shallowly, taking it in, squeezing his hands to help him along.

“Because that took everything in me,” he continued, and his voice shook, his hands shook, and all you wanted was to gather him in your arms and hold him till he relaxed. “I was raised as a superior, but I’m not. Not with you. You are my equal, and I love you, and there’s no future with us if I can’t look beyond my own problems to see yours.”

Your stomach quelled in light of his confession. The life of luxury and fame you had so recently come to know was a blur compared to his childhood swathed in privilege. Only six years ago you were waiting tables to save up for college when your dad bought a lottery ticket for the hell of it. Now you were attending charity balls and engaged to the son of the richest man on earth.

He took a shaky breath and kissed your forehead, seeming to only find the courage once his lips met your skin.

“I notice. I swear I do,” he said. “I tried to act disinterested when you vent to me because it was a protection, it was a way to stay cold, because that was all I ever saw from my mother and father. They were separate people who happened to live in the same house. That’s not us. I’m not my father. I swear I notice. I notice your tired eyes and your tense shoulders and your fake smile and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how, so I clam up. I shut down. And I’m sorry. I truly am, my darling. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

It was an absolute miracle that you could even breathe at the end of his speech, panting almost as heavily as he was. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, this time he didn’t object, but pulled you even closer, shrouding your body with his, his sharp scent overwhelming your senses, clouding the air around you, even when there was no distance between you. His mouth was hot with passion, yet reserved, and though it wasn’t the first time you kissed, it was the first time you thought he meant it when he told you he loved you.

“Kyoya, I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I have for so long. I wouldn’t have stayed with you if I didn’t, no matter what our parents said.” He laughed, nipping your bottom lip lightly. “And I don’t want you to change for me. You’re under so much pressure, I understand why you act like you do. But our home isn’t Wall Street. My heart isn’t some business bargaining chip. You don’t need to fight your nature to love me. It’s one and the same.” One of his tears splashes down onto your face. “So just see me. Love me. Choose to be vulnerable. I promise it won’t scare me off.”

“I will. I promise.”

He kissed you again, burning his brand against your tongue, hard like a handshake to know he meant it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, like you were breathing the same air, using the same lungs, the same heart beating in tandem.

When you let go, his forehead remained pressed against yours. His eyes were slightly open, watching you, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He was so soft, like this. You wanted to hold him forever.

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper, trailing a hand through his hair. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He kissed your forehead, rubbing his nose against yours in compliance. “I’ll spend all the time in the world with you, beloved,” he sighed, capturing your lips once more. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

-

Kofi

[artemisvexing]

Lestrat's Red Flags

I'm binging Interview with a Vampire and I'm just listing shit things about Lestat, from episode 1 on.

*Spoiler heavy

Using Lilly as a bargaining chip to ultimately get Louis to have sex with him

Killing her to isolate/punish Louis for avoiding him afterward

(I gotta be honest, part of me wonders if Lestat made his brother jump to his death but he has plenty of confirmed red flags so I don't even need to add that. )

Approaching Louis who had literally done nothing but avoid him at his brother's funeral and making the comment "Believe me, your brother longed for that flagpole"

Killed priests where Louis had gone to confess about his sins and his involvement with them (aside from the murder, Louis was in a fragile state and did not need to be handled like that)

(I'm not convinced that he didn't put up more of a fight from Louis trying to see his family during the day because he figured it'd be better for him in the long run if Louis learned trial by error (with all the vulnerable, malleable emotions that came with. Allow someone to be hurt then you get to soothe it and they thank you for it).

His general unwillingness to process life altering events with Louis-Ep 2: Louis nearing got disintegrated trying to see he family and comes back Lestat's house. Lestat explains the things about the sun but then calmly starts preparing for bed, trying to convince Louie to join him in the coffin. Louis himself remarks "He rushed me headlong through the encounter as if it were something to get behind us." Louis lists the murder, the turning, the near disintegration.

Continuation of one above: Ep 2: Louis nearly eats his nephew, Lestat tells him to stop seeing his family and proceeds to try to convince him to go to an opera. Louis pushes back a bit before he gets caught up in the romance, exasperatedly repeating "I almost ate my nephew, Lestat"

The opera he takes him to requires Louis to pose as a valet to avoid racially driven conflict. My personal theory is that this was to enhance Louis's sense of isolation from the world around him (as he is already beginning to feel isolated from his family). Louis kinda backs this up in the interview, saying, "Lestat had this way about him, so that as i sat there, trying to practice restraint, stewing in my indignation, Lestat seized it as opportunity to disarm me." Lestat starts talking about his fear of loneliness and asks Louis to stay with him (You cause/worsen the feeling then you soothe it)

Calling back to the unbalanced dynamic. Louis states "In the quiet dark, we were equals." Daniel pushes back on that shit so fast.

Lestat using a sexual relationship with a woman to punish Louis for his eating habits. (Lestat's reaction when Louis asked if he could also fuck whoever he wanted tells us that it didn't matter who Louie fucked (despite Lestat later claiming his issue was the fact that Louis had history with the person he chose).

Lestat laughing at Louis's desperate, vulnerable "Am I not enough?" after he flirted/cheated on him in front of him

Inviting people into their saloon and saying "You can fuck them and I can eat them", potentially putting their secret (coffins) at risk, and in the heat of the moment handing Louie papers that stated his business was shutting down (stacking trauma on trauma, throwing fits and punishing him even when he set the terms).

Lestat using the backlash from the death of the councilman to get Louis to say that he enjoys killing. Louis states "Maybe you saw it coming and didn't stop me. Maybe you went quiet on purpose." Lestat doesn't deny this, only tells Louie that Louie killed the guy because he enjoyed it (rather than for his people as Louie had been proclaiming). He then goes on (once again not caring about Louie's distress) to state that they should make that day their anniversary.

He literally only wanted to make Claudia to make Louis stay

The way he handled Claudia about Charlie

Sarcastically asking Louis "what should I have done, put him in the coffin with her?"

Cheating with Antoinette after he told Louis he didn't see that happening again and Louis stopped seeing other people

Choking Claudia (multiple times)

Calling Claudia a mistake

How he acted like a whiny (cheating) child as Louis mourned the loss of who he considered to be his daughter

How reacted to Claudia after she came back

The actual fight (It was obviously not self defense. It was never going to be. Aside from whatever fighting skills Lestat has picked up or was taught, Louis was basically starving himself. He wasn't a threat. He just wanted Lestat off his kid.

Lestrat literally talks about how he seduces and preys on human beings when he's teaching Louie how to do it for feeding purposes. It makes sense that many of his actions are out of an abuser's handbook.

[chacusha]

Some half-formed thoughts I have about Quark and the way he expresses emotions:

One thing I like about Quodo is that both Quark and Odo are emotionally repressed / stoic, by which I mean that they have the tendency to quietly suffer rather than seek out help or do anything that might give away that they're suffering. This trait is more obvious with Odo -- his emotional repression and discomfort with showing any kind of emotional vulnerability is a major part of his character and he's easily recognizable as the stereotypically stoic type. Quark on the other hand is (on the surface) the opposite of stoic: he's very whiny and emotive -- the type to exaggerate how much he's suffering, really.

But I think there's a certain class of things where he'd rather cover it up than to let anyone know he's suffering. Like in 4x25 "Body Parts," after he's done everything he can to try to back out of the deal, he's just like, "Welp, a contract is a contract. Time to die." Or in 2x07 "Rules of Acquisition," he tries to play off his thwarted romance with Pel as no big deal and bounce back as if he's unaffected, although Jadzia sees through him. Or when he finds out about the extent of his mother's business dealings in 3x23 "Family Business" and that she has a higher net worth than he does (I love this moment because it is so devastating for Quark -- it means that in the same moment, he both finds out his mother is better at business than he is AND finds out that, if anyone discovers his mother's accounts, his legal obligations would bankrupt him), his reaction is a muted sort of "...I'm screwed." And IF you take the read that he has a crush on Odo but just never confesses this during all the times he's helping Odo out with his love life issues (even as he's criticizing Odo for being dumb for not just asking Kira out -- very "do what I say, not what I do"), then that also speaks to the level of emotional repression Quark is capable of. (I KNOW my shipper goggles are on tight, though.)

I kind of get the feeling that Quark and Ferengi more general tend to be emotive largely as a bargaining tactic -- e.g. "This oversight has caused me EMOTIONAL DISTRESS. So what are you going to do to fix it??!" -- entitled customer style. As long as they think that complaining will get them a better deal, they have no compunctions about being the whiniest bitches ever. I also generally get the feeling that outward-directed emotions like anger, outrage, and outright pleading are common among Ferengi men, but not so much more personal/vulnerable emotions like depression, insecurity, self-deprecation/self-hatred, etc.

And I think, for Quark, his personal natural reaction to encountering a serious setback or hopeless situation where bargaining won't help is numbness -- emotionally shutting down and collapsing silently in the face of it. Like, IIRC, Quark doesn't cry that often, even when his life is not going well and he's feeling sorry for himself. He more like silently broods. But he'll regularly plead and complain and show fear in front of people in other situations. I think that Quark is highly emotive almost as a form of play and so when things get REALLY bad, he's too upset to be playful in that way and his reaction is more of a muted/numb ":|"

It has the effect that the less serious the situation is, the more he displays emotion, but when the situation is serious, he gets emotionally numb and uncommunicative. That trait is fun for Quodo and pining, because BOTH Quark and Odo are the type of people who are like, "the stronger I feel about this / the more important it is to me, the less I can talk about it." Although I think sometimes Quark can get around some of his emotional repression and achieve some vulnerability in an indirect sort of way by reframing the situation as a belligerent/antagonistic/lodging-a-complaint sort of thing. IDK, maybe I'm just making stuff up here -- I haven't done canon review in a long time.

[sokayisaidiot]

Why Tommy is one of THE BEST written characters in existence.

Alright, that’s it

Here I give you my fuckin Take on why Tommy is one of the best written characters out there and can easily compete with best-selling Novels like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter. I’m sick of a trashing that doesn’t even make sense. So buckle up. Here I will tell you why Tommy has one of the best written characters in history of Books and Movies. Remember, I write this all in my perspective and take many examples of other character books as well

Before this all starts, I will also talk about the main characters of some series, since Tommy has the reputation of being a “main” character.

When I look at the books I’ve read, I see a large range of characters and there way of making the story interesting.

Now, to establish a good character, we need key points of motivations, to make them relatable and bla bla blub:

Personality

Part of the story

Their Powers

Flaws

Relationships

Prized Possessions

History/the backstory

The moral and story the character tells

First tho, I want to explain some words I’m going to use here!

Mary Sue/Gary Stu:

Those are characters who are flawless, have missing chunks of personality and mostly one way written. They are easy to achieve when you are trying to make your character look badass.

Examples in some Fandoms are

·      Rey Skywalker (Star Wars Sequels 7-9)

·      Hermione Granger (Harry Potter Movies)

·      Bella Swan (Twilight)

Tree-System:

Imagine a tree. You plant something small and soon you have something giant with many branches, roots and connections. You have the seed you plant and with caring and care you let it grow. Then you have somewhat a sapling. The tree grows with the care and soon you have a tree with many branches.

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

Personality

Negative:

Tommy’s personality is very brash and out of control = He’s barely containable in fights, going off to do his own risky plans and starting two or so fights. He can’t forgive a person very easily like Eret, who took it a long time to get forgiveness and Techno, as he shot Tubbo at the Festival. He makes decision that also cost his life like the duel because he hates losing

Tommy can be very lazy, giving the thought he wouldn’t have to do the hard work = Shown when he tries to steal the hearts of seas from Eret or potions from Techno, bargain with “drugs” by Puffy and Ponk or gives other people the work he doesn’t want to do like he did with getting cobblestone

Like a child, he often clings to close people and annoys others for attention = His desperate attempts to have company or someone praising him shows, when he tries to get Philza’s approval (or a pat on the back), constantly looking out, if Tubbo’s either okay or where his is,

He doesn’t like to wait or doing things in the long run = He constantly asks when something is finished, when they could go or in his exile, when he was allowed to go back to L’Manburg

He doesn’t show often his cooled down, scared and vulnerable side = He often overshadows his trauma with a facade of jokes and bad hidden hurt he brings out. When he talks about something bad, he’s clearly confused, not really knowing on how to understand it. Also he runs away from things he can’t control a panic attack like visiting the final control room or looking away from the holes in Logstedshire

He runs without head into a battle so often as possible = Only when they had their final showdown for the disc, Tommy was seen preparing in story, thinking it would be his last fight

---

Positive:

But as he has negative traits, his positive shows to many people clearly.

His unwavering loyalty to the closest of people = His loyalty to Tubbo, Wilbur And L’Manburg are, were and always will be a part of him. He stands against anyone who goes against that, even if it means pain in many ways.

Passionate about dear projects of his = You can see Tommy talking about his discs or see an video where he would spent days getting different discs. Those things are very known to be rare things, so for Tommy to possess it gives him somewhat power. L’Manburg was the same passion, even a bit more, as you can see he was ready to give up his most prized disk. The last and in the moment is his hotel

Bravery like no one makes him as one of the dangerous person on peoples hitlist = He stands up for others. He stood up to L’Manburg. He in the end didn’t care that he lost a life. When he sees a foe, he won’t stand down and submit, he will fight against the oppression and tell them that in the face. During the mission to get a visa, he stood against Schlatt, even if they were clearly in the loose of people and disadvantage. Or getting an apology of Sapnap for killing Niki’s fox. Fighting against 5 people with just one ally while the other is a hostage.

His leadership = There are not many people who can take it up, but Tommy is an exception. He can coordinate people with his loud voice and somewhat thought plans. He is charismatic, even if he’s not so good at it like Wilbur, he still can motivate people to fight for themselves or others. He’s seen to lead others into battle and taking in the fighting part a leading role

Unselfish. That’s one of the most arguable things about Tommy`s character = You can´t look at a kid and say he is selfish because he wants to get something dearly back. Especially Tommy, after he gave the things up, he cared about. But if something is happening again, he will lay it down to do the other thing. As seen by the egg, he had a hard time thinking what to do. He, in a long time, didn’t want to be catalyst for something to happen. Not when he in the moment could have stopped it. So doing this act for himself ones, was a good decisions, since they clearly weren’t ready for war

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part of the Story

Outside of the story:

Let’s all just get something “straight”. What would Dream SMP without Tommyinnit. Now. Don’t get me wrong. All the creators on the SMP are amazing. They are all wonderful and deserve every bit of Attention and fame they get. But just imagine.

We heard from Tubbo, he was the one, who got him into the SMP. Schlatt and Wilbur came because of a “visit”. Quackity was added because TOMMY said he was bored. And from that, we got somewhat of a tree system. As Tommy was invited and drawn into conflict by Sapnap (shoutout to best boy!), he got more people.

He also has the highest viewership and kind of shortest streams, since he is doing college next to Youtube and Streaming. He can’t give up his high viewers since all of those 200.000 (average) – closing 650.000 People (doing something like a big lore stream in prison or the disc final), choose to watch him.

Also a reminder again, Tommy has his storyline as does everyone else. When we saw Tommy and Techno during the partner up arc doing something with the dogs, they saw the start of the red vines arc BUT said they were on the wrong storyline. Tommy was asked by the eggpire writers if he wanted to be a part of the story and he said yes. Why do you think he nearly says nothing about the egg. He leaves it to the writers. Also, it was said by one of Wilbur’s Character descriptions, that Tommy was okay with others doing something with his character, while Techno was more reluctant with his.

Let me say it again, every creator is awesome and individual! Nobody should be compared to others. But with Tommy coming to the Dream SMP, there really was a change in the game.

Remember, that’s because we also have a BT (before Tommy) and AT (after Tommy) Timestamp in the wiki!

Inside of the story:

Now, with Sapnap, Alyssa, Ponk and Tommy in the first ever big conflict its shown the importance. People assume Tommy is one of the conflict bringers, even though he was dragged in it by having something stolen by Sapnap and then forced to fight with him, to get it back.

The Consequences he’s got where having his discs get stolen. This is what Tommy’s biggest character motivation was the first two seasons. Those discs are known on the server and when you think about gifting something to C!Tommy, it would be a disc.

Techno = Disc Wait

Badboyhalo = Disc Pigstep, Chirp

HBomb = Disc Pigstep, Wait

Tubbo = Stal

LazarBeam = Far

Tommy is a openminded boy who longs for funny little adventures and pranks, since he is just a young person. It’s in his nature.

So why, when he does something, are people looking on him?

Because the things he was and is a part of some of the biggest events. And him being so loud and brave and rash lets him stand out. If you look at the old (hah) Revolution of L’Manburg, who can you hear talking the most and the loudest? Tommy and Dream. They were the most outgoing about the war with Sapnap, Tubbo and Wilbur following. Fundy was more quieter (thankfully he has so much more lore now).

Tommy’s character is known to fall or be dragged head first in almost every conflict. He has connections to who? Mostly everybody. So of course he’s connected big parts to the stories.

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

Powers

Okay. Every “main” character or character with huge importance to the story has some kind of power. Looking at Dream, who is a “demigod” or Ranboo who I don’t even have to talk about. So what about Tommy?

Well. He doesn’t have any. Tommyinnit is one of the people, we get to have as an “human” character

Hannah = nature “Spirit”

Karl Jacobs = Timetraveller

Antfrost, Technoblade, Ranboo, Fundy = Hybrids

Dream = Something something green blob

Awesamdude, Puffy, Philza, Sapnap, Eret, Schlatt = Adding Features (wings, eyes, body parts)

Badboyhalo, Skeppy = completely different species apparently

Tommy has, as we know of the moment, a not confirmed power. The assumptions of the egg are not clear, since we haven’t seen those interact in a while. All we know is, Tommy didn’t get hurt, destroying a part and not feeling anything, while being in contact. That in canon considered.

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

Flaws

As talked before in personality and also in an assumption, we see the pattern of loyalty and brashness repeating.

Flaws are the most important parts of a character. It shows the struggle of their adventure and learning how to live with it.

Percy Jackson learned loyalty is nothing, if you don’t have someone to project it on.

Harry Potter and Luke Skywalker learned being a hot head didn’t really bring him forward and it’s important to have a plan

Frodo Beutlin learned that it is okay taking care of yourself and what attachment means

Anakin Skywalker learned fear is controllable and it shouldn’t be a remaining part of your life

Tommy learned over the time that his rashness could hurt others, loyalty couldn’t come back to him like he gave it out and he learns even more in the coming future.

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

Relationships

Tommy’s relationships is a mess of strings. Some are badly knotted and some are very clear.

A characters connections is an important part for the character himself.

Relationships in life are

·      Enemies(-figure)

·      Rivals(-figure)

·      Friends(-figure)

·      Family(-figure)

·      Lover(-figure)

·      Complicated family(-figure)

·      Complicated friend (-figure)

Relationships are a part of everyone’s life. Not with everybody is a good relationship holdable. Either it’s because their hurting each other or another person. People change and that’s a part of life.

Tommy realized, even tho it hurt, that Techno wasn’t good for his mental state and health. It went against everything Tommy ever stood for.

And Tommy and Tubbo’s relationship wasn’t really that broken. It’s normal for friends to fight. Normal for them hit their heads in. Tommy and Tubbo were surrounded with people who were, at the time, a terrible addition to their mental life.

The Dream SMP doesn’t talk it out, hell the talking club was just destroyed because they preferred fists over words. So why do you think everything is going out with a fight, if it’s all they learned.

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

Priced Possessions

Every character has to something a connection.

Might it be Percy Jackson and his sword

Might it be Harry with his glasses, broomstick and wand

Frodo and his stupid ring

For Tommy we all know it’s his ender chest inside and secret chest. He keeps many belongings in his chests and always has been one for those things. He kept flowers, compasses, Friendship signs and most importantly, his discs.

The care for something of items are important. Might it be a teddy, old photo or jewelry. People get protective over it, because it holds sentimental value to the person.

If you ask me, to let go of my teddy bear, I will show you my middle finger. Probably beat you up too.

You can’t just throw out your memories into a fire or pit of lava. This is just showing you never had a care and everything you had a memory with it before would have been gone.

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

History/Backstory

We don’t have much here, but still something to work with.

A Hero doesn’t have an easy live. And it’s an said thing that every Hero needs an origin Story.

Tommy, said not really anything about his past.

All we know is that Tommy didn’t have anyone, presumably an Orphan, he knew the sleepy bois already a long time ago and he never learned on how to ride a bike, saying he never really had a family.

Signs that he didn’t even leave half a good life are:

·      his knowledge on stealing and preferring this over working for it

·      Liking to live in weird spaces like carved out holes in sides of hills (his hobbit hole or the basement by Techno) or living in his tent over a hole house

·      His liking of cobblestone and dirt, which are easy gettable blocks

·      Holding his goodies and friends close to him

·      Craving for attention or contact in general

And now for the part with the dream SMP.

We saw how it changed him. We saw his trauma and all the bad things that happened to him.

And that’s why we say his actions came from those past experiences and things. We are NOT excusing them, but showing. Past trauma CHANGES a person. It brings experience and a heavy amount of pain and anger. ESPECIALLY at a young age, you will change due to your experience in life. You will grow worried and anxious. Tommy did that. He grew more anxious, angry, scared and also experienced.

Stop saying trauma doesn’t explain it. Yes. It does. His lashing out came from his past and negative experience. Imagine growing up in a world where this is the norm. War and banishing. As well as death. Tommy has reasons why he is acting and does stuff.

Understand it. You don’t have to forgive him or anything. But understand it.

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

The moral and the story the character tells us

When we see Tommy, we see a boy who went nearly through it all. Mental/Physical Abuse, Abandonment, War, Suicidal thoughts, betrayal, Death, etc…

He doesn’t show forgiveness for his abuser. Still has signs, that he fights with the past abuse, but he tells us a story of learning from past mistakes, that even in the darkest hours, there’s a way out. Things will, can and be ugly and those are dark hours, but in no way should you think that it’s over. Life is more than one way and can always turn into a new direction.

Life takes something old away from you. Life gives you something new. You lose someone, you find someone new. Friends can turn into enemies. Enemies can turn into friends. You can meet the weirdest people. You can meet the most amazing people. You can be alone and in the next second, you’re not. You will often lose, but you also can win if you give everything.

Life can be weird and that’s okay.

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

My Fazit (that’s german)

The thing is, he is very real for many viewers such as myself. He acts like how many teenagers his age reacts.

He doesn’t be “baby”, because he shows the “ugly” sides of trauma. He shows that attachments are good and you shouldn’t forgive your abuser. In no way. He shows that acting out and lashing out are two things that happen, when you have been in wars for many times and nearly just know that.

He has many flaws and mistakes but those make him even more real. He is showing how he is growing.

As a person, friend, (pseudo-)family.

He is real to many of the viewer since he doesn’t have any powers that are existing in our world to solve their problems. He knows that nobody would have helped him and Tubbo against Dream if he didn’t pay others.

Also that you can’t be friends with everyone and that it’s okay that not everybody likes you.

Tommy´s character is the most human and realistic character in a way of how we would react. We are humans who are lashing out and who are having ugly sides.

And also please stop saying that, since I really can relate to Tommy and I don’t want to be feeling like a “bad-written Character”…

And Don’t even get me started on Tommy’s acting dude!

He is one of the best actors and that one livestreams! In from off 200.000 – 600.000 People!

On the face cam alone is so much to see…  

·      You can see his face with each emotion shifting,

·      when something funnily weird happens, he looks dead eyes in the camera

The voice acting…

·      His breathing,

·      the stuttering in his voice,

·      THE GODDAMN EMOTIONS IN HIS FACE

HIS MUSIC CHOICE!

·      He changes the music fitting for the situations as in fighting scenes or funny moments.

·      He also has some funny bits with his music.

·      Like a goddam DJ!

The ingame character

·      His movements and head stares

·      The jumping around when he gets overactive

·      Long stops when he thinks or is sad!

You can see, I am a person from Tumblr and saw way too much bullshit around tommys character.

Stop critiquing him so badly.

You could say, I woke up and chose violence

>:D

[danielxricciardo]

Hi love the writing! Could you do something angsty around 26 or 35 with max??

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

26. “Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?”

35. “What will you do if we break up?”

'Max is looking at you' you read what your best friend Anthony, an engineer at Red Bull Racing, wrote.

And you worked at Red Bull Racing too, you decided with Max Verstappen, your boyfriend, that this is the best way for you to travel with him. You didn't have a complicated job. You dealt with filtering the negative ad on the team and then you gave it to Victoria to deal with the articles as she knew.

'Okay, let him look,' you write on the piece of paper that Anthony wrote quickly on.

You were at a meeting with all the Red Bull Racing employees, to your bad luck. Being in the same room with Max Verstappen was the last thing you wanted at the time.

Sure, your relationship was beautiful, or it had been anyway. He was whatever you wished from a man and more. He looked like a bad boy but he was the cutest and most thoughtful man you knew and he made you feel safe even when you couldn't see him.

His words still resonate in your mind and you had to make a supernatural effort not to cry.

You knew Max Verstappen loved you. He told you that every day and showed you through the gestures he made. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you didn't look for scandal either.

But every time you saw her, a lump appeared in your stomach. Without wanting to, you became careful around you, looking for her or Max. When you saw them talking, you looked for any excuse to go near them.

But your fear was unfounded, wasn't it? Max loved you, you were together for two years and you were fine.

But you also looked at her. She had also had a long-term relationship with Daniil Kvyat, a relationship of almost three years and they have a little girl together. There can be nothing between them.

Anthony has told you several times that Max and Kelly have been spending a lot of time together, at least lately, and you said you weren't worried. Why would you be?

But last night all your worries and fears came upon you at once. Anthony told you he saw Max leave the paddock with Kelly and didn't come back for about three hours. He didn't want to pay attention to this thing but when Anthony went to the driver to show him some sketches he noticed a small bruise on the backside of his neck.

"Really?" he tells you laughing. "How old are you to leave hickeys on your skin? Only teenagers still do that."

You felt all the color drained from your face. Hickey? You never left anything like that on his skin.

Anthony probably realized that what he said was not about you.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry..."

"It's ok," you say and smile at him even though you wanted to die at that moment. "I need a little bath, I'll be right back," you say and get up from the chair.

You started crying in the bathroom. You were disappointed, scared, disgusted, and shocked. To learn that someone you trusted unconditionally had been lying, cheating, and had developed an emotional bond with another woman behind your back was not registering in your brain.

Yes, you weren't a model, you didn't look like one, but Max always told you that you were perfect and that no other woman compares to you.

You literally could not wrap your head around what was happening...

You hoped that your darkest thoughts would never come true, but they did. Max and Kelly. Together. Behind your back.

It feels like every nerve in your body has either frozen or left your vessel completely. Your body literally enters a state of shock; adrenaline. You are absolutely stripped. Vulnerability. Disbelief. Disgust. Horror. Anger. Confusion. Shattering, crippling, traumatizing heartbreak.

Trust, honesty, and respect are necessary for a relationship, and Max just shattered all three at once. You have been the victim of an emotional crime. You ask yourself, how could this person fuck me over like this?

I trusted them.

I loved them.

I was loyal to them.

I kept my end of the fucking bargain.

How could you emotionally manipulate me?

What was I lacking?

Am I the problem?

Truly sickening, reality-twisting, mind-fucking stuff. You just couldn't believe that this was happening to you. Infidelity is something you hear about quite often, in books, movies, the media, or to other people, but not to you. This was somebody you loved with all of your heart, who told you he loved you, who had never shown the slightest inclination of dishonesty or moral transgression or disloyalty.

"Y/N, are you okay?" you heard Anthony behind the door, the fear and worry present in his voice.

"I'm fine," you say, though no one would have believed you. "I'll be there in a moment."

You splashed some water on your face, looked in the mirror, and bit your lip. You looked like hell. The eyes were red, the small veins that irrigated the eyeballs were broken, the face was red, in a combination between the violent crying crisis and the anger you had.

What were you going to do? Will you pretend you didn't know anything? Will you tell him you knew? Were you going to break up with him or were you going to wait for him to break up with you to be with Kelly?

You finally came out of the bathroom and Anthony was waiting for you at the door. He hugged you tight and assured you that everything would be fine. But he had no way of knowing that. It was nothing more than his simple hope that his best friend would not lose her fucking mind.

The phone starts ringing. Anthony lets you go and he goes to see who's calling you. He gives you a worried look. You immediately realized that it was Max who was calling you. Tears began to flow down your cheeks again and Anthony took your reaction as an invitation for him to answer the phone.

"Hey, man," he replies, and you don't hear what Max is saying. "No, she went for a coffee and left her phone on the table. Okay, I'll tell her. Okay, bye."

You approach him after he's finished the call to make sure you don't hear Max's voice.

"He said to go to his room."

"I don't want to see him."

"I realized that. Let's go, we'll deal with this problem later."

You went for a walk. The fresh air calmed you down a bit, but you had all kinds of thoughts in your mind.

How many times has this happened? Did you really want to know that? You really wanted to know how many times he kissed her and then he would come to you and tell you that he loves you.

If Anthony hadn't seen the hickey, how many more times did he planned to cheat on you?

Did he love her? That would have hurt you the most, knowing that you failed to give Max the love he needed and had to look for it in the arms and bed of another woman.

"Just know that I understand your feelings. I've been through this myself." Anthony breaks the silence and you look at him. "To be cheated on, it's a feeling of helplessness and zero self-worth. You feel as if you didn't do enough for that person which is why they reached out for someone else sexually or romantically. You blame it on yourself half the time. You dig for answers in your memories to try to figure out where you went wrong, where things started to go in a different direction. You hope that it won't happen again. You hope that the saying "once a cheater, always a cheater" it's just a myth. They broke your trust, how could you ever trust them again, right? You become paranoid when they go out at night or they don't answer your phone calls by the first ring. You find yourself having more down and depressed days than happy days. And a lot of questions will always replay in the back of your mind. Why? Why now? Why with them? How could this be happening to you? No matter how many times you get an answer, it won't be enough. Day after day, it'll get better but worse at the same time."

After two hours you returned to the paddock. You were immediately notified that Max was looking for you everywhere and he was worried he couldn't find you. Ironic, isn't it?

"Y/N!" you hear Max's voice.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Anthony asks, standing in front of you to block your image of Max.

"No, it's okay. I'll handle it somehow..."

Anthony nods and leaves, staring angrily at Max.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere. Are you okay? Your eyes are a little red." he asks and if you didn't know better you'd think he cared.

"Let's go somewhere private."

You went to his room. You sat on his bed and thought about what you could say. You were thinking about what Anthony told you when you walked together.

Max hands you a dose of Red Bull and you take it, feeling your throat very dry.

"We need to talk," you tell him and you feel your eyes start to sting. It was not yet time to start crying.

"Okay? Is something wrong?"

"Is it true what Anthony told me?" you ask and you see that Max doesn't know what you mean; how would he know? "Is it true that you and Kelly spent some time together?"

His face went blank for a moment as he tried to understand.

"What you mean?"

You reach out your trembling hand to the collar of his polo shirt to lower it where Anthony told you it was the mark.

And Anthony was right. There was, in front of you, the hickey Kelly made on him.

Max didn't expect that. He looks at you with wide eyes and you hear his heart start beating harder. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He looked away from you, numb. You discovered his secret. You didn't know if he was afraid of your reaction or sorry you found out his little secret.

"I didn't intend to hurt you," he says, and you realize he's telling the truth.

He had a guttural voice.

You smile at them. A broken smile that hid the primordial desire to cry and hit him with all your best.

"I don't care about your intentions. They're irrelevant. You didn't intend to hurt me? Well, you didn't intentionally try to keep me from harm either."

You don't know where you had the strength to look into his eyes and not cry. Max looks crushed. Because you found out? Because you're breaking up? Because he has to put an end to the affair with Kelly?

"How long was it actually going on before I found out?"

You see Max trying to think of an answer that doesn't affect you so much or destroy you at all.

"For less than a month," he answers.

One month? Where were you a month ago? In Spain. Did something happen there? Did you notice anything strange about him? To his behavior? No. You didn't notice anything.

Was he really that good at hiding his mistakes?

That, of course, if he considers the relationship with Kelly a mistake.

"Did you ever think of me when you were with her?"

He did not answer. You didn't even know if you wanted to know the answer to that. What would it be like to answer that he never thought of you and that his mind was soaked in serotonin that only Kelly could think of those moments?

"I never stopped loving you."

"I don't believe you loved me while you were cheating on me. Love and betrayal are incompatible. I don't feel safe with that kind of 'love.'"

"So? You're breaking up with me?" Max asks.

Although you still had so much to say, you no longer had the power. You were so mentally and physically exhausted that you just wanted to be alone and cry.

"There's nothing else to do, is there?" you say and leave his room.

Anthony was waiting for you. He noticed that you had no tears on your face and frowned.

"What happened? Did you guys make up?"

You hug Anthony hard and cry. At that moment you gave up being strong. You gave up pretending, even in front of you, that you were fine.

Fuck it, you weren't fine. You were far from fine.

You looked back at Christian Horner, who was presenting something on the video projector. You lost the whole meeting with the crew. You had no idea what was being said.

Honestly, you don't even care what they said. You only worked there because you were Max Verstappen's girlfriend. But for eighteen hours, this was no longer true. So what's stopping you from going to Christian and telling him you're resigning? What keeps you from going home and forgetting about Max, forgetting the last two years of your life and starting over?

"That's it for today, thank you very much, friends, and let's get back to work, yeah?"

Everyone gets up from their seats. Anthony draws your attention and beckons you to look at the garage door.

You could faint then and there. No one and nothing ever prepared you for the emotions you were experiencing then. Kelly Piquet was at the garage door, waiting for the meeting to end. She was staring at Max, but he was just looking at you.

"Can we talk a little?"

You nod to Anthony that you're fine and he can leave. You look at Max and you see that he doesn't look very good. He had dark circles and you're sure he didn't sleep last night either, just like you.

“Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?” he asks, looking down at his shoes.

"Yes," you answer categorically, looking at his face, waiting for him to raise his head so you can look him in the eye.

“What will you do if we break up? You will leave here or-” you interrupt him.

"Not 'if I break up with you,' we've already gotten over it," you say and Max looks at you with wide eyes. "We already broke up last night. I'm still here because I haven't had a chance to talk to Christian yet to tell him I'm resigning."

"Are you leaving?"

"I have nothing to do here. I came to Red Bull Racing for you."

A tear runs down Max's cheek.

"What can I tell you to stay?"

"There's nothing left to say. Now go," you say and you feel a lump in your throat. "She's waiting for you."

Max turns to the garage door to see who you're talking about.

"I gave her a text message last night and told her it was all a mistake between us."

You smile at him. "Goodbye, Max," you say then you shout for Christian.

[quillsandtypos]

Who you callin boyband?

Summary: anon requested calling the sunset curve boys a boyband and Luke reacting. Based off of Carlos calling then a boyband in the show.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: none

Pairing: luke patterson x reader

Sorry I'm late to the anon who requested this!

...........................................

Their band had sounded amazing, as per usual. When Julie asked you if you could come watch to see if their song felt good enough for their next gig, you happily agreed. Though truthfully, you weren’t certain what she was worried about, they always sounded amazing and of course today was no exception.

“That was amazing you guys!” you chirped.

“Really?” Julie asked uncertainly.

“Definitely, I think that’s actually one of my favorites that you’ve made so far,” you assured her.

“See I told you guys she would like it,” Alex remarked from the back. You could tell from the phantom’s faces that there was a story behind his comment, but you didn’t bother asking.

“What do you guys say to some pizza to celebrate?” Julie suggested.

You agreed but you weren’t entirely certain Julie could even hear you over the boys chanting. Julie finally turned to you after they had quieted down.

“Yeah, I’ll take some,” you laughed.

“Great! I’ll let my Dad know,” she said, as she headed back up to her house. You watched her go, but your attention was soon diverted to the boys.

“You guys have to be the most pizza loving people I’ve ever met,” you teased.

“Then, you clearly have been hanging out with the wrong people,” Reggie commented.

You shrugged, “Maybe so, but you guys and pizza have more chemistry than Luke does on stage.” You took delight in the momentary look of shock on Luke’s face as you took a gulp from your water bottle. You almost thought you had him until the shock turned into a slick smile as his eyes flicked down towards yours.

“Does that mean you’re checking me out y/n?” Luke hinted. You could hear Reggie let out a oooooh in the background, but you choose to ignore it. Luke could recover quickly, you had to acknowledge that.

“Hate to break it to you Patterson, but I’m trying to manage the whole band. Not just you,” you slyly remarked.

His smile became more apparent. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

“He’s not wrong,” Alex pointed out. Reggie did finger guns towards him in agreement.

You crossed your arms and desperately hoped they didn’t realize how embarrassed you were. You leaned off the couch slightly and looked over to where Reggie and Alex were sitting. “For your information boyband, I was not checking Luke out,” you scoffed. You hoped they bought it, but that was evidently not the part that Luke was stuck on.

Luke tilted down so his arms rested at his knees, so he would be at your sitting level. “Wait, who are you callin boy band?”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe the boy band in the room,” you said, as you gestured at them.

Luke crossed his arms too, sporting a pouty smile. “We are not a boy band.”

“You are boys. In a band. How are you not a boy band?” you argued.

“Y/n’s got a point there Luke,” Reggie agreed.

You pointed to him, “See, at least someone who’s logical is here.”

“Hey!” Alex started.

“Not you, that was directed at Luke,” you informed him.

“As you were,” Alex gestured at the two of you.

It wasn’t until you looked back at Luke that you realized your closeness to him. He couldn’t have been more than a foot away from where you sat. You cleared your throat, and you quickly tried to dismiss the thought from your mind.

“So boy band, why did you guys think I wasn’t going to like your new song?” you asked. They all exchanged seemingly panicked looks.

“Well it’s not that we thought you weren’t going to like it,” Alex trailed off.

“But like more of a general standpoint,” Reggie continued.

“Because it’s new,” Luke finished.

You suspiciously looked between the three. “Alright, what are you guys hiding?”

“Hiding? Us? Psssh,” Reggie scoffed. “I mean, it’s not like Luke-” He was cut off by Alex pressing a hand to his mouth.

“It’s not like Luke would’ve known whether you would like the song or not, is what Reggie was saying,” Alex offered as an explanation. The stink eye that the two were giving Reggie would’ve killed him on the spot if he weren’t already dead.

You were about to ask what was so important of a secret that

Reggie needed to be tackled, but Julie walked in.

“Did I just walk in on the middle of something?” she asked.

“Nope, just the boyband and their secrets,” you assured her with a slight smirk.

“Boyband, that’s new, I kinda like it,” Julie added.

Luke turned to head to the side with his mouth slightly agape as you bit down a laugh. “Thank you, that’s what I said.”

Julie was picking up on Luke’s annoyance and decided to play along. “Maybe I can get Flynn to change our name to Julie and the boyband,” she suggested.

“Oh my gosh, wouldn’t that be just perfect!” you exclaimed, being sickly sweet.

“You two are evil,” Luke said, as he threateningly pointed at the two of you.

You delightfully smirked. “What can I say Lukas, it’s my speciality,” you taunted. Reggie’s eyes went wide at the mention of his full name and Julie and Alex exchanged an amused look.

“What was that?” His grin was becoming more predatory by the second. He stood up to look down at you, and you took that as your cue to hop off the couch to face him.

“Did you miss what I said, Lukas?” You made sure to put extra emphasis on his name.

“No, I didn’t sweetheart,” he taunted back. You saw Julie raise her eyebrows from behind Luke’s shoulder. On one hand you hated that nickname but on the other hand you couldn’t tell if the growing heat on your face was from embarrassment of the name or the fact that Luke Patterson was calling you that. But you knew that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Mhmm, no we are not doing that,” you asserted.

He moved his face close enough to talk, you weren’t certain the others could hear him. “Well then don’t call me Lucas,” he bargained.

The words slipped from your mouth before your brain had a chance to realize what you were doing. “Make me,” you insisted.

You wished you could have disappeared in that moment, but alas you were stuck watching this as much as your three other friends were. When you finally opened your eyes to see what horrors you had in store for yourself, you first made eye contact with Julie; she looked rather surprised but almost a tint of impressed. You heard someone behind you clear their throat, and you turned around.

“I think we should go check if the pizza guy is here, right Julie?” Alex suggested.

Julie’s eyes went wide in realization of what was happening. “Right! Yep! You two stay here and hold the fort down!” She told you and Luke before practically sprinting out of the studio. You turned back around to see Reggie still standing there.

Alex quickly poofed back in and grabbed him as he incomprehensibly mumbled something.

Luke turned his attention back to you. “Make me, really y/n? That’s like the best you could come up with,” Luke crossed his arms.

“What would you prefer me to say?” you questioned. Something in Luke’s demeanor broke for a moment. His infamous smirk faltered, revealing something far more vulnerable behind it. “Luke, what are you guys hiding?” The puzzle pieces started to click into place about the day’s practice.

“Do you really want to know?” he timidly asked. You hadn’t seen him as nervous as he was at that moment.

You intently nodded your head.

“The guys were trying to keep it a secret, but I wrote that song myself about someone,” he shyly explained.

“Luke! That’s really cool, I knew there had to be a reason why I liked it so much.” You playfully bumped his hand.

Your response puzzled him. “You don’t want to know who it’s about?”

“Luke, your friends are not very good at keeping secrets,” you laughed.

“Are you serious?” he dumbfoundedly asked.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. “Reggie accidentally told me last week,” you admitted.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Luke muttered, but you could see his lips twitching upwards.

“But he kept my secret, because he didn’t tell you that I like you back.” The last bit of your sentence was slightly mumbled as you tilted your head to the floor in embarrassment.

He softly grabbed your jaw and pulled you back up to his level.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch the last part.” And just like that, his smirk had returned.

You forced yourself to look up into his sparkling hazel eyes. “I like you, a lot, Luke.”

As he heard your words you swore you saw the fire in his eyes grow brighter. “I like you a lot too y/n.” His face was mere milimeters away from yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Your eyes flicked from his lips back to his eyes. “Of course Patterson.” The gap closed between the two of you and it was like two worlds collided. His lips were slightly colder than yours as they softly melted into yours. You felt his one hand clutch your cheek softly, as the other held to the back of your neck. Your hands instinctively went to his hair as your kiss developed into something deeper, until the both of you had to swim to the surface for air.

As you caught your breath you realized that there were three very shocked occupants at the studio door.

You saw Reggie and Alex silently hand Julie ten bucks. “So do we have to watch you guys have eye sex still or are we good now?” Julie teased.

“Jules!” you groaned.

“She’s not wrong,” Reggie said as he walked past you.

Luke chuckled at your flustered state, “Yeah, I think we’re good now,” he responded, sending a wink in your direction that you rolled your eyes at.

“Great cause we have pizza!” Alex announced.

“Oh yay!” You were grateful for the attention being taken off of you.

“So does this mean that you were checking me out during rehearsal?” Luke asked, as you took a bite.

You rolled your eyes, but you decided to indulge him. “Yes, Patterson, I was checking you out.”

Alex grimaced. “Ohhh big mistake, he’s gonna hold that overhead for at least a month,” he warned.

You turned to Luke who clicked his tongue and finger gunned towards you in agreement. You resisted the urge to groan at your newest annoyance.

“But you’re stuck with me now,” Luke said with a mouthful.

“Luke, really?” Julie commented.

“Sorry,” he said, with his mouth still full.

You grinned at him, and despite his previous threat, you couldn’t be happier that you were finally stuck with him.

[shysneeze]

good enough (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

Good Enough

Draco Malfoy x fem!Slytherin!Reader 

*based loosley on the song ‘line without a hook’ by ricky montgomery*  

Request: can I ask for Draco x reader where the reader is sassy, but also kind Slytherin (like one of the kind Slytherin)?? And Draco has a huge crush on her? Super fluffy? ~ @lennylangdraws 

Warnings: low self-esteem, angst, smidge of house stereotyping, i don’t know the meaning of fluff im so sorry 

Authors note: you asked for fluff and I have no excuses for how this turned out except this song has been stuck in my head for weeks now. I hope you like it anyway despite the angst... i tried to make it fluffy make up at the end?

Also, I’m not saying this is a prequel to vulnerable love, but it kinda fits... pretty sure it makes vulnerable love hurt more though.)

.

Draco wasn’t sure it was possible to want back what he’s never had.

He never knew being stuck in the awkward phase of being an ‘almost couple’ is something he could miss, that he’d ever long to feel the heat that would creep up his cheeks when their eyes met, to feel the nauseating butterflies flap in his stomach when she smiled at him or the jolt of nervous energy that would rip through him whenever their fingers accidentally grazed each other’s under tables or in corridors.

Yet now that those little things are beyond his grasp, he’s desperate for them again, desperate for her. It might be easier to miss her if she were gone, rather than just sitting at the other end of the Slytherin table, or across the room during classes, it would be easier not to see her, the constant reminder of what he’s allowed him self to ruin.

They weren’t supposed to get along, every conflicting personality trait dooming them to a life as enemies. Everyone knows her, the ‘nice’ Slytherin. It’s a title given to her by her classmates, the too-cocky Gryffindors who can’t see past Slytherin’s bad reputation as bullies and snobs, a bad-reputation fuelled by Draco Malfoy himself.

No one could have expected them to end up the way they did, dates in Hogsmeade or hushed conversations by the common room fire in the early hours of the morning and afternoons spent by the lake. No one could have expected them to get along so well.

Draco knows that everyone has expected this though, for them to fall apart before they’ve even had the chance to begin. It’s what they’ve expected of him all along after all, to break her heart.

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got the right to be looking for her like this, seeking her out desperately to get her back, once again deluded into believing he ever had her in the first place. He’s the one who called it off in a moment of certainty that it was the right thing to do, a selfless act. And so it’s wrong for him to be here right now, back in their secret spot.

She’s exactly where he assumed she would be, curled beneath the tree she was always affectionately calling theirs. His entire body tenses painfully at the sight of her, face hidden in her palms and body shaking, not from the cold, but from the trembling of barely silenced sobs.

He wonders if it’s his racing heart that she can hear that alerts her to his presence and has her looking up from her hands, teary eyes meeting his in surprise. Then, she pulls her brows into a well-justified scowl and a lump forms in Draco’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow.

“What are you doing here?”

An incredibly valid question for which Draco can only provide selfish answers. It seems silly to tell her that he’s hear to win her back, and futile given her growing anger. Yet he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t, miserable without her.

“I miss you.” He gulps honestly. “Truthfully, I’ve been a mess without you.”

“Merlin, Draco.” She gasps out a laugh of disbelief. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you started ignoring me. Frankly, that isn’t really my issue.”

“I know.” He sighs apologetically. “I know, I didn’t mean-“

“Just get it over with, Draco.” She rolls her eyes. “Say your piece and leave me alone.”

He nods, taking hesitant steps forward towards her, the frost coated grass crunching under foot. She avoids his eyes as he takes a seat beside her, staring determinedly at her lap and making a conscious attempt to hide the quickly accumulating tears.

“Aren’t you cold?”

She lets out a loud exasperated sigh and refuses him an answer. He agrees with the sentiment of it, regretted the stupidity of it the minute it left his lips. Still, he leans forward to pull the Slytherin scarf from his neck and twists himself to allow him to wrap it loosely around hers, fussing with it until he’s reassured that she’ll be warmer for it.

“You looked cold.”

“Tis’ the season.” She mumbles sarcastically.

Her sarcasm is another thing he’s missed from her, and it draws a momentary smile to his face. Then, the moment is over, and his eyes have fixed on the tear stains painting her cheeks, proof of his own fatal mistake.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

She scoffs.

“Two weeks overdue.”

“I know.” He agrees sheepishly. “I know, (Y/N).”

“Then why are you only here now?” She questions. “Why did you do it in the first place? You can’t just act like you have feelings for someone then disappear and ignore them for weeks!”

Her voice wobbles and cracks at the end, much to her own dismay, and each breath she takes is jagged in the way one’s always is when trying to conceal tears. He watches her press the balls of her palm to her eyes in frustration, letting out a small whimper that has every inch of him aching with remorse.

Part of him, a self-preserving part, tells him to lie. It’s a side of himself he’s grown to hate recently, the side that pushed him into this mess in the first place, and so he knows better than to bargain with it again. So, with a deep breath, he chooses to tell the truth, he chooses to be vulnerable.

“I’m not good enough.”

Although exhaled in a whisper the revelation is startlingly loud. Perhaps its due to the serene quiet always felt on crisp cold days like today, where the sun hangs low in the sky and the lake lies unimaginably still, or perhaps it’s the raw honestly in the statement that makes it seem so alarmingly bold.

She blinks at him, lips parting in surprise and brows furrowing in confusion or concern, Draco isn’t sure. He can hear his pulse in his ears, a slight trembling in his hands that he knows has nothing to do with the chilly breeze. He’s done something profound, terrifying even, and opened that vulnerably part of himself to someone, with no control over what happens to it next.

“What?” She manages.

“Everyone knows it, (Y/N).” He explains nervously. “I’m a terrible match for you.” 

“Who the hell is everyone” She frowns. “Since when did they matter?”

There is a certain protective edge to her voice that he doesn’t deserve, but it replays itself in his head over and over, clinging to it for hope. It takes him a moment to let it go again, to push it down and answer.

“They’re right.” He sighs. “You’re too good a person for me, I’m too Slytherin.”

The concern instantly leaves her eyes, she sits forward with an urgent look of disbelief and another of her signature scoffs. She’s giving him an inspective look, trying to figure out if he’s serious, or if he’s suddenly picked up a new, strange sense of humour.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He isn’t quite sure what to say and his silence fuels another disbelieving shake of her head.

“I am a Slytherin, Draco.” She exclaims. “No matter what those big-headed Gryffindors are always saying, I was sorted into Slytherin and I’m proud of it- you’re supposed to be proud too, not agreeing with those stupid stereotypes.”

“It’s different.” He exhales in frustration. “I am those stupid stereotypes!”

Draco Malfoy has never been considered modest.

Self-confidence isn’t a trait earned in the Malfoy family clan, but rather inherited between generations, a birth right bestowed upon them the minute they are old enough to understand. It’s a confidence Draco has always been comfortably protected by, unwaveringly sure of his own self-importance gifted to him by his ancestors

Yet something about the infamously kind (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has him constantly falling apart at the seams with the need to be good enough for her. He’s never met anyone like her, no one so capable of making him question the unwarranted self-importance he was raised on as a Malfoy.

Even now, wrapped unceremoniously in his scarf, late falling orange leaves lying in her hair and her cheeks stained with tears, he’s never felt so undeserving of a person in his life. She’s a lady, and he’s just a boy, he’s heartbreakingly inadequate.

“I just want to be someone you can be proud to call yours.”

With his eyes solemnly fixed on his lap, anywhere other than her reaction, he jumps slightly at her cold fingertips on his hand, prying them from the tightly curled fists he has no recollection of clenching and slipping her fingers into his.

“Draco, look at me.” She pleads softly. “Please.”

He does so slowly with her encouraging squeeze of his hand, she’s smiling at him, sympathetic, but unpatronizing.

“I am proud.” She states softly, but confidently. “I don’t want some perfect golden boy, I want you, Draco.”

Three words he never knew he needed from her, ‘I want you’, and they fill a space in his chest that was gaping for reassurance. She’s amazed him again as she always does, she has a talent for making him speechless than no one else has ever mastered.

“You’re so harsh on yourself you haven’t even realised how much you’ve grown, Draco.” She informs. “You’re not the bully you used to be, you’re not the carbon copy of your father anymore, and I’m sorry that no one has allowed you to move on from your past to see your present.”

She smiles sheepishly at his dumfounded expression and gives him the moment he needs to collect his thoughts and process it all. Then, slowly, he’s shaking his head in surprise, letting out a soft sigh.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” She jokes. “I think I straightened that misconception out already.”

“No but- you’re just so…”

The heat burning his cheeks is worse than ever before, he feels almost overwhelmed by it all, her compliments, her smile, that genuine look in her eyes that convinces him she’s unwaveringly sure of every word she’s said.

“Thank you.” He blurts finally. “Especially after I- well I ruined it all.”

“Yeah, I won’t lie, you really fucked up.” She admits. “But you’ve made an honest recovery…”

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” He exhales gratefully. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I was going to tell you to piss off after the ‘are you cold’ bit to be honest.” She chuckles. “Stayed because you gave me your scarf- which I’m stealing by the way.”

“Take it.” He urges, a smile finding his lips for what he’s sure is the first time in two weeks, since his misguided decision to end their almost-relationship. “Take whatever you want from me, it’s yours.”

She lets out a shaky breath and gulps. She purposely drops her gaze momentarily to his lips before retuning them to his eyes again, a gesture that has his eyes widening and the tips of his ears turning scarlet. Slipping her fingers from between his, she tentatively cups one of his cheeks, fingertips grazing the red colour blossoming on his pale skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I-“ He chokes. “Yes.”

She smiles nervously, reassuring him that he’s not the only one flustered. Then, curling her free hand around the lapel of his jacket, she pulls him closer with eyes shut. Their lips are cold when they meet, and slightly chapped by the cool air, but neither care. Draco places a hand on her waist, pulling her somehow closer as their lips begin to move hesitantly together. She lets out a soft content sigh, sending a breath of warm air into the kiss and causing him to positively melt inside. She’s done it again, completely incapacitated him with such a simple thing as a kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He exhales.

She lets out a giddy laugh as she pulls back, forehead still pressed to his and eyes still shut.

“There are worst ways to go than my lips.”

He knows, he’s very quickly decided that’s the only way he ever wants to go.  She presses her lips to his again for a split second before pulling back completely, he aches for the feeling again, greedy for it now that he’s felt it once.

“Next time, talk to me.” She pleads. “If you ever feel like you’re not good enough, I’ll be there to convince you otherwise, but don’t just disappear.”

“I won’t.” He assures. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know that, Draco.” She smiles sadly. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me.”

“I do.”

The hard part, that initial step, is over. He’s leapt into the unknown, flung himself into the terrifying depths of vulnerability, and there is no going back, but he never wants to, he never wants to leave her again.

“Also if I ever hear you speaking shit about our house again I swear to-“

She’s cut off by his lips once again on hers, startled only for a minute before she’s grinning, grateful to see his confidence returning. She can feel his own grin on her lips and the vibrations of a light laugh before he’s pulling back again.

“Consider me warned.”

“Good.” She exhales. “Or I’ll be confiscating your tie next.”

. 

(Authors note: its not my favourite but if i rewrote it one my time i was flinging my laptop out my window... its not particularly proofread.)

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Eleven

“...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment...”

― Plato, The Symposium

tw: Death

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

April 25th, 2000, 12:06pm

It’s been a long, long few months for Roni.

Today is one of the first warm days New York has experienced in a while, and it’s one of the first times Roni has felt strong enough to actually leave her house without breaking down and sobbing.

Still, she’s aware she isn’t exactly at peak performance either.

Presently she finds herself at the supermarket, bare-faced and exhausted. She reaches up to rub at her eyes, which at this point burn permanently with how often she’s been crying over the past few months.  She’s sure she must look a mess as she walks through the building, searching numbly for the few items her grandmother had sent her for.

Her grandmother, sweet and more than mildly concerned for Roni’s well being, had thought it would be wise for Roni to get out of the house for a bit.  Over the past few months, Roni has gone on a few walks here and there, but each time she’d returned home looking more wilted and devastated than she had when she’d left.  It was disconcerting, to put it lightly, but of course the older woman had comforted Roni through every minute of it.

That being said, however, she’d wanted to push Roni to make the effort to get out of this funk (or at least up and over the hump that stood before her), and although it makes Roni feel strange and disgustingly vulnerable to be out here among other people like this, she can’t say she blames her grandmother for trying.

Besides, there’s something that’s been on her mind for ages now, and she thinks today is the perfect day for it.

She has to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand first and foremost-- although she can’t for the life of her remember if her grandmother needs 2 percent milk or skim--, because God knows she wants this grocery store trip to be over as soon as possible.

She runs a hand through her hair, realizing dismissively that it’s a bit greasy and overdue for a wash.  When was the last  time she took a shower?

Ultimately, Roni decides on skim milk (she figures her grandmother will forgive her if she’s wrong) and plops it unenthusiastically into the shopping basket that hangs heavy on her arm.  She scans the basket, mentally checking off everything she sees and searching her foggy brain to determine if she’s missed anything.

When she’s absolutely certain she’s gotten everything on her grandmother’s list, she takes in a deep breath, turning on her heel and walking--almost robotically-- to the next area of the store she needs to go to.

The little section of less-than-fresh flowers is located directly next to the produce section, right where it’s always been, and it’s a place that Roni has visited multiple times in her life since her mother’s passing.  The task of picking out the prettiest flowers is one that Roni has never taken lightly, of course, and this time is no exception.

Because this time, she isn’t going to visit the grave of her mother.  She’s going to find Harry’s.

There’s a pressure on her back mixed with a tinge of anxiety as she scans the colorful flowers in their colorful wrapping.  It would be doing Harry a disservice to pick some that are anything less than perfect, but then none of these seem suitable at all.

Roses? No, too dark. Violets? Ironic, but still no.

Roni is startled out of her thoughts when she hears someone behind her clear their throat. ��Expecting to be asked to kindly move out of the way, she shifts quickly to the right,  preparing to offer whoever this person is an apologetic smile.

But then she hears her name.

When she turns she is met by none other than Oliver and his sweet, smiling face. Her heart sinks impossibly deeper into her stomach at the sight.

“Hey!” he greets, as pleasantly as he can manage.  “I thought that was you but I wasn’t sure!”

Oliver looks good, save perhaps for the dark circles under his eyes that mirror Roni’s own.  He seems far more well put together than Roni for sure, and she’s almost embarrassed by her own appearance. His dark hair hangs limp on his head, and the scent of his aftershave tells Roni that he’s probably just taken a shower before heading over here.  She wants to hug him, purely for selfish reasons, but she thinks maybe that isn’t the best idea right now given the circumstances.

He seems to feel the same way, because he holds his hands awkwardly at his side— as if wanting to go to her, but unsure of how to go about it.

So Roni simply smiles.  “Oliver,” she greets. “It’s so good to see you!”

And she does mean that. His face is an oddly comforting sight at a time like this.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ron! How have you been?” He asks this question quietly, as if he already knows the answer, but there isn’t a single trace of judgement on his face. That was something Roni had always loved about him, in fact.  He never judged.  He was always a much better person than she felt she could ever hope to be.

Still, it feels like a loaded question. One that she doesn’t quite feel prepared to answer in the slightest.  How does one explain to their ex boyfriend of several years that they’re doing absolutely terrible?

So she shrugs, offering him a half-hearted laugh.  “I mean, I’m here.”

Oliver laughs, a sympathetic smile on his face that tells her he feels the exact same way. A wordless sentiment is shared between the two in their smiles, and he nods when she giggles. “Same,” he says. “I’ve been better but… ya know.”

And god, Roni does know.

She gestures at him. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Been working out a lot. Changed my diet a bit. Just trying to be like, you know, healthier and stuff.”

Roni nods. “That’s amazing, Oliver.”

She really does mean it. He does look great, especially compared to the last time she’d seen him. Fresh out of their breakup, running on a maximum of three hours of sleep per night, wordlessly helping Roni pack up her things into boxes and moving them, along with her grandfather, back into her grandparents house.

The first few days of the new year had been awful, to say the least.  Roni had hardly spoken, hardly eaten, hardly done much at all except for cry; overwhelmed with sadness and a tinge of guilt— not only for leaving Harry, but for her sudden lack of feelings towards Oliver. And Oliver, the angel that he is, stood by her. Constantly worrying, making sure she was at least drinking enough water, and trying to coax her into telling him what was wrong.

The breakup had not gone at all the way Roni had expected. But then, when do breakups ever?

It was on the 6th day of January, when Roni found herself so completely buried in her grief that she couldn’t stop crying, even for five minutes, or bring herself to step foot out of her bed.  Oliver had tried everything, and was obviously growing impatient himself. When he threw his hands up and exasperatedly told Roni he was taking her to the hospital, that’s when she’d done it. She’d blurted out that she couldn’t be with him anymore.

The look on his face was enough to shatter what little bit of her heart remained intact in her chest.  He’d asked for clarification, then asked again, then again. When his tears started falling, that’s when the cycle of grief started for him. Denial, bargaining, anger.

Roni, of course, couldn’t tell him everything.  She couldn’t tell him about the time travel, and about Harry.  She couldn’t tell him anything, really.  All she could do was cry.

And cry she did.  She cried so hard she got sick, and poor Oliver, through his own tears, called Roni’s grandparents because he didn’t know what else to do. Even in the days that followed, where Roni stayed in the care of her grandparents, she couldn’t give him a straight  answer.  She wasn’t sure where she would even start, she only begged him to understand that this was the right answer for both of them.

And all the while, her heart had ached.  It had ached for her mother, and for Harry.  It flooded with overwhelming grief and guilt as Roni constantly wondered if she’d done the right thing leaving 1925.

It had taken a while, but it did get a bit easier after that.  Two weeks later, Roni and Oliver ended things-- officially-- both with clearer minds and hearts.  Oliver helped Roni’s grandfather move the rest of her things from her and Oliver’s shared apartment back into her grandparents’ home, and she and Oliver talked things through-- as best as they could.

The official reason Roni had given Oliver for their breakup was that she didn’t know who she was on her own and she needed to figure it out; which wasn’t a lie.  She had told him, in more or less words, that she was feeling misunderstood and needed to really find out who Veronica Elliot was.  After all, they’d been together for nearly ten years.  Ten years of her adult life in which she’d done so much growing up, but with him.  She needed to grow up on her own.

And Oliver had understood that as best he could.   It didn’t make the breakup hurt less by any means, but it made enough sense. All he wanted was for her to be happy, which she appreciated more than she could express.   So once she’d gotten settled in with her grandparents, she and Oliver hadn’t spoken again.

Until now.

Oliver nods his head in Roni’s general direction, bringing her from her thoughts.  “What’s the occasion?”  he asks.

“Hm?”

“You’re shopping for flowers,” Oliver explains with a laugh.  “For something good I hope!”

“Oh.”  It dawns on Roni that Oliver may actually be able to help her, or at least somewhat understand her current situation.  “Yeah.  Kind of.”  She shifts her weight to her other foot.  “Actually… Oliver, do you remember Mr. Styles?”

Oliver furrows his eyebrows.  “Who?”

“Mr. Styles.  You were assigned to spend time with him in high school.  Right before you graduated.”  None of this seems to ring a bell to Oliver, so Roni sighs.  “You knoooow,” she tries again.  “He gave you the advice?  About asking me out?  You brought me to meet him?”

Oliver’s confusion only seems to deepen.  He shakes his head.  “No, I don’t think--”

“He died like, shortly after I met him,” Roni says, growing a bit more impatient.  “You went to his funeral!”

“Roni,” Oliver says slowly,  “I think you’re confused.  I was assigned to Mrs. Brown. Mildred Brown. You met her, but there was no one named Mr. Styles.”  

Roni shakes her head. “No,” she says.  “No, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” Oliver insists, then chuckles.  “I would’ve remembered someone with a name that cool.”

“But Harry-- Mr. Styles… he--”

“I knew pretty much every resident in that place,” Oliver says.  “There was no one named Mr. Styles. At all.”

Roni lets out a breath, blinking as she tries to process exactly what Oliver is telling her. Of course there was a Mr. Styles. She remembers him vividly, both in his youth and in old age.  “No…” she says slowly.  “No, there definitely was.”

Oliver shakes his head.  “Roni, I’m not lying to you.  I knew everybody there.  There was nobody with that name.”  

Roni is only halfway listening to him as her thoughts run a million miles a minute.  “He… no, because...” She trails off, finally blinking confusedly up at Oliver.  “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”  Oliver watches her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  After a beat, he speaks again.  “You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just… I could’ve sworn--”

“Is that who you were planning on getting the flowers for?”  Oliver’s confusion continues to show on his face. “Why?”

“I just--”  Roni isn’t even sure where to begin.  She sighs.  “I just thought… he really meant a lot to you.  I wasn’t at the funeral.”

“You’re thinking of Mrs. Brown,” Oliver insists.  “I loved that woman.  But I haven’t thought of her in years.  I’m shocked you even remember her.”

“Apparently I don’t,” Roni jokes half-heartedly. Oliver laughs.

“Where did you come up with that name anyway? It doesn’t even sound remotely familiar.”

Roni, still confused, shakes her head. “I don’t know. I must have heard it in passing or… something.”

“Yeah probably.” Oliver nods towards the flowers. “Anyways. If you’re wanting to get some flowers for Mrs. Brown, she loved lilies.”

Roni glances back towards the cheap bouquets. Lilies. Those might be good.

Her confusion only fogs up her brain more than it already is, and try as she might to hide it, it projects very easily onto her face.  Oliver eyes her, as if wanting to touch her but unsure of whether or not he should.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ron?”

“Yeah,” Roni says quickly, realizing she must look strange. “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just… brain fart I guess.”

Oliver chuckles. “I know how that goes. Had a ton of those the past couple months.  Things have just been like, weird? I guess? That’s the only way I can describe it.”

“I know,” Roni agrees, a tinge of guilt striking her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Oliver says quickly. “Seriously. I didn’t say that to like, make you feel bad or anything.  I’m just saying.”

The air is thick with tension all of a sudden, and Roni clears her throat, trying desperately to will it away. Oliver laughs awkwardly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you or anything. I’ll let you get back to your shopping.  But it was really good to see you.”

The way he’s smiling at her makes Roni instantly relax, and any awkward vibes in the air fizzle away. She smiles. “It was good to see you, too. Seriously.”

There’s a brief moment of charged energy between the two, before Oliver decides to just bite the bullet and move.  He reaches forward before Roni can really even process it and he wraps her up in a hug.

It feels ridiculously comforting in a way that Roni would have never expected, and she surprises herself when she feels her eyes grow misty.  She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a hug  just in general, and she definitely hadn’t thought the most comforting one would come from Oliver himself.   She relaxes into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him a gentle squeeze in return.

They stay like this for a while, and Roni realizes that Oliver probably needs this just as badly as she does.  She feels him take a deep breath in through his nose, burying it in her hairline and sighing quietly under his breath.  He’s missed her.  And Roni can’t lie and she hasn’t missed him, it’s just different.

She can’t go back to him.  She absolutely cannot.

“Please take care of yourself,” Oliver mumbles, before finally pulling out of the hug.

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, Ron.  Go easy on yourself.  Please.”

His words touch Roni’s heart, and she smiles.  “Oh.  You too.”

He smiles right back at her, and there’s a long moment where she feels like he might say something else.  Ultimately he decides against it, and he nods in finality.  “Right,” he says.  “See ya.”

He’s gone before Roni has even finished saying her goodbye, and she’s left feeling empty and somewhat melancholy.  How is it possible to feel so simultaneously relieved, as if some unexpected closure has occurred between the two, and yet so hollow, as if far too many words were left unspoken?

Roni’s stomach churns and she clears her throat, trying to re-center herself.  

Flowers.  Harry’s grave.  Right.

She knows what Oliver just said, and it confuses her to no end, but she isn’t going to give up that easily.  She’s certainly not just going to take his word for it; she has to see for herself.  She believes the finality of seeing Harry’s grave-- if there even is one-- will grant her the strength to push forward.  To know in her heart that what she had with him is long gone.  Otherwise, she fears she’ll never be able to shake the feeling that there is lingering unfinished business between them, and it will continue to haunt her until she knows for certain.

Even if Oliver insists Mr. Styles never existed.  She has to try.

So Roni sighs, reaching for a bouquet of white lilies that seem to be the least wilted out of all of their counterparts, before making her way to the checkout line.

———————-

The cemetery is somber, but it brings a peaceful sense of calm over Roni as she steps through the gates.  It’s colder and cloudier than it was this morning, and Roni finds herself wishing she’d brought a jacket.  She takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed as she scans the many headstones before her.  Finding Mr. Styles’ grave is going to be far more difficult than she’d anticipated.

She takes a step forward along the gravel road that winds through the expansive cemetery.  She hadn’t realized it was going to be such a large place, with headstones covering the hills everywhere she turns.  It’s only the slightest bit disheartening, but Roni is no quitter.  If she can’t find his headstone today, she’ll return tomorrow; and if necessary, every day after that until she finds it.

Oliver’s words echo in Roni’s mind as she walks, scanning each headstone for the name she wants so desperately to see.  Why didn’t he remember Harry?  Surely she hadn’t dreamt that entire day in which she met the elderly gentleman; she has vivid memories of Oliver calling her cousin’s house where she was staying the day of the funeral and telling her how upset he was. That was real.  The books on his nightstand were real.

Harry was real.

In the distance, someone sits on the balcony of their apartment and plays guitar.  It’s a melancholy song, and although Roni knows they’re just practicing and this has nothing to do with her, it feels strangely fitting.  Roni smiles to herself, enjoying the music, as she continues her way down the path.

It feels silly in a way, to be here without any knowledge of the location of Harry’s gravesite or if it’s even in this cemetery at all.  In hindsight, she feels, she could have done just a bit more research.  She could have called around, done some inquiring about Harry.  To be fair, though, she had called his old retirement home only to find that it was no longer a retirement home, but a preschool; a fact that she found quite odd.  The circle of life, so to speak.

As she scans the headstones, she reads each name quietly to herself. She figures it may be best to take the cemetery in sections; a section or two today, another tomorrow. It makes the task feel far less daunting and besides, she could use some more peaceful walks like this in her daily life.

She runs her fingertips along the rough top of a headstone, soberly realizing that there are caskets beneath her very feet at this exact moment.  Realizing that everyone ends up here in their lives, and that one day she too will end up here.  The thought of Harry being somewhere beneath this grass, however, makes her stomach churn.  She hates that she’s here, and she knows it’s too late, but she’s hoping it will give her some type of the closure that she’s aching for.

Roni sighs, muttering a gentle “where are you?” under her breath as she scans the headstones.

She continues along the dirt path, shyly chuckling to herself at some of the names (and immediately feeling guilty for it).  She switches the bouquet of flowers from her right hand to her left and wipes her sweaty palm along the thigh of her jeans.

As Roni continues her walk, she grows a bit colder than before. She wraps her free hand around her stomach, as if it’s going to help, and sniffles when the wind tickles her hair across her nose.  Today had started out so misleading with such beautiful weather, and now she’s shivering against the chilly wind.

It’s about thirty minutes later when Roni happens upon a headstone bearing a name that draws her attention.  The name isn’t exactly the one she’s been searching so desperately for, but it does interest her.  She goes to it. turning off the gravel path and walking along the moist grass.  As she approaches, she reads aloud from it.

“Mrs. Mildred Brown. Beloved wife and mother. Born October 12th, 1899.  Died June 6th, 1990.”  Roni sighs as she continues, reading the passage from the Bible written in script along the bottom.  “‘Well done thou good and faithful servant.’  Matthew 25:21.”  

She shakes her head.  “I don’t understand,” she mumbles, squatting down beside the headstone to get a better look.

It all checks out, as far as Oliver’s story goes.  She regrets not asking him for more information while she had the chance, however.  How did Mrs. Brown die?  What was it like the day Roni supposedly met her?  Had Mrs. Brown been interested in time travel?  Why is none of this making sense in Roni’s brain?

As Roni processes all of this, she suddenly gets the unmistakable feeling that she’s being watched.  It isn’t a threatening feeling by any means, but she can practically feel a pair of eyes on her out of nowhere, and it is somewhat unsettling.

Of course, her logical brain thinks, she is at a cemetery. There are other people here, no doubt, visiting loved ones.  She tries to brush off the feeling, running her thumb over the carved indentations spelling out  Mrs. Brown’s name.

Roni notices a rock atop the headstone, indicating that someone has been here to visit Mrs Brown’s grave recently. She feels it would be disrespectful to touch the stone, so she refrains.  Instead, she just looks at it, wondering who could’ve left it-- someone in Mrs. Brown’s family?-- and why she can’t, for the life of her, remember this woman.

She can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched, however, and she glances over her shoulder subtly to see if she can see anyone.  She waits a moment, and just as she turns back to observe the headstone once more, she swears she hears her own name.

“Roni.”

The voice is feminine and foreign yet so familiar all at once, and Roni isn’t even sure she’s

actually heard it when she stands up.  She turns to her right slowly on her heel, expecting to see someone and feeling slightly disturbed when she doesn’t.  She licks her lips, feeling her heart rate increase.

“Who--”

She hears it again, closer now and coming from the other direction, and she turns to her left.  Instantly, she is relieved when she realizes who the voice belongs to.

There, standing against a tree with that beautiful, all-knowing smile, stands Violet.  Dressed as if she’s just walked straight out of the 1920s.  

Perhaps she has.

A million thoughts run through Roni’s head; how did Violet get here?  How did Violet know she’d be here?  Violet nods, as if reading Roni’s mind.  

“Hello, dear.”

Realizing she hasn’t said a word, Roni laughs lightly.  “Violet!”  She walks over to the mysterious girl, smiling wide.  “God, it’s so good to see you.”

As she approaches, she wonders if it would be polite to give Violet a hug. Are they at that level of friendship? Do they know each other that well? Is it weird?

Violet doesn’t allow any more time for Roni to overthink, instead taking charge and pulling her into her arms for a warm embrace.

It’s so ridiculously comforting,  and Roni hadn’t even realized just how badly she needed this.  When Violet pulls away, she continues to hold Roni at arm’s length, scanning her face.  “How have you been?”

“Well…”  Roni trails off, then shrugs.  “I mean.  Not great.”  She laughs.  “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” Violet replies, voice calming and warm.  “My, but it’s good to see you.”

“It’s so good to see you too, Violet.  What are you doing here?”

Violet smiles, something subconsciously shifting in her tone, though not in a bad way.  “I had a feeling I would find you here,” she explains.

“But how?”  Roni asks.  “Why today?  Why right now?”  She leans in.  “Why me?”

Violet doesn’t directly answer Roni’s question.  “I’ve come to bring you something,” she says, reaching into a satchel that rests on her hip.   “Something that might be of great value to you.”

Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up that this gift has anything to do with Harry, but it’s too late.  “Something of great value?”

“Sentimental, if anything.”

Roni can’t help but to deflate.  “Oh.”

Violet finds whatever it is that she was looking for and retrieves it from the satchel.  It seems to be a folded piece of paper, and she holds it out for Roni to take. Roni hesitates, eyeing the paper cautiously, before taking it from Violet’s hands.

“Read it,” Violet prompts.  “It might make you smile.”

Slowly, carefully, Roni unfolds the paper.  Her heart starts pounding as her mind runs through all the possibilities of what this could be.  Before the note is even fully opened, she stops when she recognizes her own handwriting.

“I know what this is,” she says, looking up at Violet slowly.

“You do,” Violet says, nodding. “Read it.”

Roni swallows down the lump in her throat, casting her eyes back to the paper and reading silently to herself.

Harry-

If you’re reading this, it means that I left.  I am safely back where I came from, proving you wrong-- just like I knew I would.  However, it seemed rude to leave without a proper goodbye.  So here it is.  I know I only stayed one night with you, but you’ve been really great. I hope your new year is “swell” or whatever it is you’d say, and that all your hopes and dreams come true. Thanks for letting me stay with you. Sorry about the black eye. Take care.

-Roni

Roni looks back up at Violet, swallowing down the lump in her throat.  “I wrote this the day after I got there,” she says, as if Violet didn’t know.

Violet nods again.  “You did.”

Roni shakes her head, feeling tears prickle at her eyes.  “I don’t understand,” she admits, shrugging in submission, as if Violet is about to play some trick on her.

“Harry’s kept it,” Violet explains, and the way she speaks of Harry in the present tense makes Roni’s heart pound.

“He’s…?”

“Kept it,” Violet repeats.  “Yes.  He found it under his bed a few days after you left.”

“Is he…” Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up, so she hesitates to ask. “I mean, are you... have you—“

“I have seen him since you left,” Violet answers, smiling knowingly. “Yes.”

Roni swallows the lump rising her throat as the wind whips her hair lightly against her cheeks. “Is he alright?” The question comes out in a whisper.

“He is alright.” Violet nods. “He misses you.”

For some reason, Violet’s words completely overwhelm Roni. She can’t stop her eyes from welling over with tears immediately , and she lets out a little choking laugh. “God,” she says, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “Does he?”

“Yes, darling.”

“I miss him so much,” Roni says, only half-heartedly attempting to stop her crying. “Can you tell him that?”

“I can.”

Roni laughs again through her tears and steps closer to Violet. “God, I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess. I just can’t believe you’re here, and I…” She trails off, looking down at the paper in her trembling hands. “It’s real,” she says, almost as if reassuring herself. “He was real. This is real.”

“It is real,” Violet says. “You didn’t imagine him.”

“I’ve felt so…”  Roni gestures vaguely as she searches for her words.  “So stupid, I guess.  I don’t know.  I haven’t been able to tell anyone the truth.  I’ve started doubting myself. I-- I mean it all just seems so crazy, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t.”  Violet shakes her head.  “Not to me.  Though I can understand the hesitation to share your experience with others.”

“And I broke up with Oliver, you know,” Roni continues.  “Oliver, my boyfriend. We were together for so long and I… I didn’t love him.  I mean I did, but not the way I love Harry. Or… loved Harry.  I guess. But I--” she laughs.  “God, I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I have in the past like, four months, and I-- I can’t even begin to tell you how good it is to see you.  To see… this.”  She gestures at the letter, then speaks again; quieter this time, as if to herself.  “Fuck, I miss him.”  

“Your feelings are completely understandable, Veronica.  And justified.  You have been through so much.  It’s only natural to feel confused.  And the connection you have with Harry transcends time itself.  But these are odd circumstances, and certainly not a situation that anyone should be expected to know how to navigate.  You are not stupid for feeling this way.”  

“No,” Roni laughs, almost bitterly.  “No, I am.  I know I am.  It’s just… god, you’re helping me so much just by being here but I--” she sniffs, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, “I don’t know.  I know I need to move on.  I know I can’t go back to him but I want to.  More than anything else in the world.”

“What would you tell him if you could?”  Violet asks, cocking her head to the side.  

“Oh god,” Roni says, dabbing at her teary eyes.  “I would say…” she trails off, really considering  what it is exactly that she would say to Harry if given the chance.  She sighs shakily.  “I would tell him he’s the love of my life.  I would tell him he is the greatest thing that has ever and will ever happen to me in this lifetime.  In any lifetime. That I regret leaving him more than anything I’ve ever done. That I miss him.  That I love him.”

Roni doesn’t notice the way Violet’s eyes flicker behind her, because she’s still going.  “And it’s silly,” she continues, “but I have never stopped hoping he’ll come.  I cant…” she sniffs again,  “Can’t bring myself to stop. Even though I know he isn’t coming, I’ve never stopped looking for him.  I don’t know if I ever will, you know?”  

Violet smiles like she knows something that Roni doesn’t, but before Roni can even question it, a voice comes from behind her.

“Well,” it says, slow and deep. “The funny thing about that is, he’s never stopped looking for you either.”

It takes Roni a full ten seconds to even process what she’s hearing, and Violet’s all knowing smile only deepens.  Roni whirls around on her heels slowly, her feet still feel frozen into the muddy, damp ground.

And there’s Harry, as young and as handsome as ever, if not a little bit older than the last time she’s seen him.

He smiles, tears welling in his own eyes as he takes a step towards her. “In every timeline,” he says, and takes another step, “in every lifetime. He’s never stopped looking.”  He stands only a few mere feet away now, and Roni notes the single tear rolling down his cheek, contrasting his unwavering smile.

“I’ve kept my promise, bunny.”

In a whirlwind, Roni is rushing to him. She trips and stumbles a bit on the mud, falling directly into his arms. She doesn’t even bother standing upright, melting instead into his embrace and wrapping her own arms around him. He does his best to straighten her on her own feet, his arms wrapping tightly around her back, but he loses his own footing and falls ungracefully onto his back.

Neither seem to care about their tumble, and Roni crawls up his body— kissing every possible inch of visible skin she can get her lips onto.  Her tears blend into Harry’s own, and he laughs joyfully against her lips as he wraps a supportive arm around her back.

“My god,” Roni sobs into his neck. “My god, my god, what are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Harry says, not even worried about the way his voice cracks. “I never stopped looking. And I found you.”

Roni giggles a wet, teary giggle, squishing his face in her hands and fastening their lips together in a clumsy kiss. He willingly kisses her back, stabilizing her with his hands and squeezing her as if he can’t hold her tight enough.

“Harry,” she sobs, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kisses her teary cheek. “So fucking much.”

Roni presses a few more haphazard kisses to his lips, as if terrified that she’ll lose him the second she stops. She pulls away after a moment, scanning his face through her own blurry eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “how did you get here?”

Harry beams. “Some people have the gift. Some do not.”

“And you have it?!” Roni asks. “You had it this whole time?!”

Harry laughs at the urgency in Roni’s voice, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess so. Violet helped me.”

“Violet!” Roni says, suddenly remembering the witchy girl’s presence. She turns to where Violet had just been standing minutes before, and is surprised to see that she is no longer there.  Harry and Roni both scan the graveyard, but Violet is in fact nowhere to be found.  Roni furrows her brows. “Where did she go?”

Harry doesn’t reply, instead he tilts Roni’s face towards him for another smiley kiss. Roni needs absolutely no persuasion, melting right into him and sighing contentedly.

“I’m so happy,” she cries against his mouth. “So fucking happy.”

“Yeah?” Harry pulls away, tears still streaming freely down his smiling cheeks. “Me too.”

“This feels like a dream,” Roni giggles. “Genuinely. And if it is, I hope I never wake up.”

Harry giggles. “It’s not a dream, sweet girl. I’m here. And I’m staying.”

Roni scans his face for any sign of sarcasm, taken aback by his words. “You’re… staying?” She asks. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but God the thought of Harry being hers forever makes her heart pound in her own ears. “Are you serious?”

Harry beams brilliantly at her, letting go of her back to shrug. “Better be prepared to teach me a thing or two about the future, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

“Oh my god.”  Roni slams her lips into Harry’s, so much so that their teeth clank together, and he chuckles lightly into her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, lips hardly moving from hers.  “I love you so fucking much.”

“I don’t understand,” Roni says, pulling back but still holding Harry in her arms.  “How did you figure it out?  I mean like, the fact that you can time travel.  How did you--”

“Trial and error,” Harry explains.  “Violet wanted me to wait a while.  She said that it would be difficult to learn if I tried right after you left.  The broken heart would make it more devastating if we failed.”  Harry smiles.  “Smart girl, Violet is.  But I couldn’t wait very long.  About a week later, we started working together to get this all sorted out.  We worked on exercises.  We worked on visualization.  We did everything.”

“And then?”

“It took some time.  Obviously.  Went to a few different places.”  He grins. “The 18th century was a lot of fun.”’

“You went that far back?”

“Sure did. Almost didn’t want to leave.”  A playful twinkle glistens in Harry’s eye. “Some old Victorian broad showed me her ankle and I was ready to propose marriage.”

Roni slaps his arm lightly.  “Shut up.”

Harry laughs, finding himself so hilarious. “M’joking,” he says.  “Of course that didn’t happen.”

“Where else did you go?” Roni asks, then softens.  “What took you so long to find me?”

“Wanted to make sure I had the technique perfected,” Harry explains.  “Wanted to be sure I knew how to control where I was going.  The first time I traveled was only to 1899, and it was quite unintentional.  The second time, I was experimenting a bit.  That’s how I ended up in 1778.  But there was a catch.”

“Which was?”

“It was a different 1778.  Not one that you’ve heard of.”

Roni looks confused.  “But… how--”

Harry grins like he knows something Roni doesn’t.  “Ever heard of parallel universes?”

Roni can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips. “Well holy shit.”

“I take it you’re familiar with the concept?”

“I am,” Roni says. “You were the one who told me about it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, then immediately furrows them in confusion. “I did? I don’t remember—“

“As an old man,” Roni explains. “I met you when you were like… 90 something.”

“Oh.” Harry’s confusion softens. “No kidding. That’s neat.”

“No but… that would mean...” Roni trails off, confusion etched into her features, as she processes everything that’s going on.  “I saw you… you were old…. you died. And Oliver said you… you always talked about this girl from your past... That would have been me, wouldn’t it?”

“I tapped into something even you couldn’t tap into.”  Harry seems proud of himself, and he flashes Roni that smug grin she’s missed so much.  

“What do you mean?”

“Alternate realities,” Harry explains.  “Shifting into another dimension.”

“But how does that--”

“In another universe, yes. Somewhere in time, your memories are true.  I was old.  I was unsuccessful in finding you. In that universe--” he gestures vaguely around the graveyard, “--I’m six feet under somewhere around here.”

Even he seems to be hit with the somberness of his words.  He takes a moment to let that sink in, and then he’s right back to his normal, cheery self.  “But!” he says.  “I shifted.  Into this reality.  With the help of Violet, I created a separate timeline.”

“At the cost of--?”

Harry sighs.  “I mean.  At the cost of some of the people I loved most back home.”  He shrugs.  “But that’s what alternate universes are for, I suppose.”

“Why couldn’t I have just… created my own alternate universe then?  In which I could have kept my mom alive AND stayed with you?  Why didn’t Violet give me that option?”

“You could have,” Harry explains.  “But there wasn’t a guarantee you could have both.  Plus, once you leave one, it is extremely difficult, if not entirely impossible, to get back. You weren’t willing or ready to make that sacrifice.  I was.”

“So we’re in a parallel universe?”

“I am.  You’re not.  You’re in your regular timeline.”

“And you--”

“Shifted into it.  Changed the fate’s design, so to speak. It did shift your timeline a bit, as far as my own existence goes. You remember me being old.  You remember Oliver attending my funeral.  But Oliver doesn’t.  No one has any memory of me, in fact.”

“So who are you to everyone then?”

“That’s the beauty of it.”  Harry grins.  “I’m whoever I want to be.  For all they know, I’m a famous singer from the UK who moved here for work.”

“Oh my god,” Roni giggles, leaning in to kiss all over his sweet, teary face once again.  

Harry smiles that dimpled smile, obviously over the moon and basking in the way she’s loving on him.

“My sweet boy,” Roni says, lips smushed just below his ear.  “My sweet, sweet boy.”

“Missed you,” Harry says quietly. “Couldn’t go on in a world without you.”

Roni bumps her nose tenderly along Harry’s. “I missed you so much.”

Harry laughs quietly to himself.  “Can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was when I ended up here.  Cried with happiness.”

“How long have you been here?”

Harry’s eyes dart up to the sky as he thinks, doing a bit of mental math in his head.  “Two days.  Give or take.”

Roni feigns offense. “And you didn’t come find me right away?!”

“Tried.  Couldn’t.  Didn’t know where you’d be.”

“But how did Violet know?”

Harry smirks.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know how she knows anything. But it seems she knows everything.”

Roni chuckles.  “Apparently so.  God.”

Harry hums, brushing Roni’s hair behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her nose.  “God, I love you,” he says.  

“I love you, too, Harry.  Thank you for finding me.”

“Promised you I would,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  “Was so hoping more than anything that you’d be waiting for me.”

Now Roni frowns.  “You had doubts?”

Harry shrugs.  “No.  I mean…” he trails off, eyes scanning the sweeping hills of the cemetery as he considers his words. “No.  I don’t know.  I was hopeful.”

“But…?” Roni presses, leaning into him.

“But you lived in the future.  You had--” he trails off, eyeing Roni carefully.  “--have…. A boyfriend?”  His statement turns into a question, and the look on his face makes Roni giggle.

“Had,” she answers.  “We broke up.  Very shortly after I came back.”

Harry frowns.  “M’sorry to hear that.  Was it… you know...?”

Roni shrugs.  “I was hopeful, too,” is the only answer she offers him.

“Hopeful for me?”

“Yeah.”

“You knew I’d find you.”

Roni kisses Harry’s cheek. “I hoped you would.”

“Poor bloke though. I know how hard it is to live in a world without you.”

“Somehow I think he’ll manage.” Roni giggles. “No, actually, I saw him this morning. When I was—“ She trails off, suddenly remembering the bouquet of flowers she’d bought that now lays forgotten a few feet away. Harry seems to notice them at the same time she does, and he turns back to her. He doesn’t push for her to finish her thought, he instead strokes her hair and admires the way it looks in the wind.

“I was going to put flowers on your grave,” Roni explains, sheepishly.  “I don’t know what I was thinking was going to happen.  Maybe… like, closure or something.  I don’t know.”

“Closure,” Harry repeats, smiling. “Wanted rid of the haunting memories of me then?”

Roni rolls her eyes but she giggles that giggle that Harry has dreamt about every night since she’d left.  “No, god, of course not,” she laughs.  “It’s just that living with the weight of how much I missed you…”  She trails off again, and Harry can see the gears turning in her head as she immediately processes another thought.  “I still don’t understand,” she says.  “I never believed you when you told me.  You as an old man, I mean.  I’d brushed it off.  I hadn’t thought it was realistic.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to feign offense.  “As realistic as time travel.”

“I know,” Roni giggles again.  “It’s just that you were old when you told me.  I didn’t know you.”

Harry grins now.  “Was I a handsome old bastard?”

Roni’s giggles turn into full belly laughs.  “I mean, I was like, sixteen.  So I didn’t think so, no.”

“Bollocks,” Harry curses, and Roni snorts.

“This is insane,” she says, shaking her head.  “I’m talking to you about… well, you… but as an old man. Memories I have of you, that you didn’t even exist for.  But you did.  I don’t know.”

Harry nods.  “It’s an odd thing,” he agrees.  “An odd situation we find ourselves in for sure.”

Roni hums in agreement, and a moment of comfortable silence falls between the two. She giggles after a moment, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her fingers and kissing his lips again, slow and smiley.

“God,” she says, when she finally pulls away. “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

Harry pulls that cheeky look of his that Roni’s missed so much, wiggling his eyebrows.  “You want me to pinch you, honey?”  He squeezes lightly at her sides and she squeals, wiggling out of his grasp.  He beams at the sound, wrapping an arm around her quickly and pulling her right back into him before smooching all over her cheeks and her nose.  “C’mere,” he growls playfully.  “Not getting away from me that easily.  Never again.”

She continues to giggle, submitting completely  to him as he tilts her head and kisses her.  They laugh into one another’s mouths, their giggles dying down as their kisses increase in intensity.   His tongue trails along her bottom lip, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Roni grants him access to her own tongue.  She’s missed his taste more than she’d ever thought it possible, and she can’t help but to moan when her tongue slides along his.

“Fuck,” she whispers, completely unaware of the fact that she’s crying again.

“Hey,” Harry coos, pulling away and cupping her face with his hands.  “Stop that.  No more of that.  No more crying.”  He swipes at the tears under her eyes, stroking her cheek bones as lovingly as he can. There is no way to convey exactly how he’s feeling right now; he’s just so in love with her and so relieved to be holding her again. Seeing her cry, indicative that she feels the exact same way, makes his heart both sink and soar, and his eyes well up with tears all over again.

They both realize he’s crying too at the exact same time, and they laugh at how silly they’re both being. Harry, still holding Roni’s face in his hands, continues to wipe at her tears while she reaches up to wipe at his.  They continue to laugh and cry and kiss, holding one another as close as they possibly can and forgetting about the entire world around them.

After a little while, Harry pushes himself to his feet with a little grunt. Roni immediately misses his warmth, which is pathetic, she knows.  She can’t help the little whine that escapes past her lips as she reaches for him, and he chuckles as he takes her hand in his. “I’ll be right back, honey, I promise.”  He gives her hand a quick squeeze before turning on his heel to go retrieve her discarded bouquet of flowers.

Roni watches him, so completely enamored and in love with him as he walks.  He’s dressed sort of funky, not quite in his 1920s style but definitely outdated by today’s standards.  He isn’t wearing his cap that she’s missed so much, but his curls are styled messily-- which isn’t helped at all by the wind.  He looks so handsome. So soft.  So him.

Her Harry.

She still feels like she’s dreaming in all honesty, and as she keeps her eyes glued to him she revels in the fact that he’s here. This person that she’s quite literally ached for for months now, the person she didn’t think she could possibly live without, the person she never thought she’d see again— he’s here. He found his way back to her because he loves her. It simply doesn’t feel real.

Harry picks up the bouquet and buries his nose in them, taking a big inhale and smiling to himself with the cutest dimpled smile.  He looks back to see Roni— his sweet Veronica sitting there on the grass, wind whipping her hair and a silly, sweet smile on her face.  He’s overwhelmed, really, and he walks quickly to close the space between him and his girl.  

When Harry arrives by Roni’s side he plops right back down beside her, kissing both cheeks and the tip of her nose. When he pulls away, he’s smiling softly, and he nods down to the bouquet in his hands. “These were for me?”

“Yeah,” Roni says, somewhat bashfully. “I mean… for your grave. So. Yeah, for you but like… not? I don’t know.”

Harry chuckles, humming as he nods. “Mm.”  He reaches into the cheap paper that holds the bouquet together and fingers lightly at a petal. “These are lilies.”

Roni, impressed by his knowledge of botany, smiles. “They are, yeah! How’d you know?”

Harry laughs. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Veronica, for heaven’s sake,” he teases.  “In fact, I was born….” Harry scrunches his face, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “About a hundred and one years ago I think!”

“Holy shit,” Roni says, doing the math in her own head. “So you’re… old.”

“Technically, I suppose,” Harry chuckles. “But also, not actually.”  He kisses her temple,  then reaches into the paper bouquet.  Roni wonders briefly what he’s doing, until she sees him snap a lily off of its stem.  It looks so delicate between his fingers it makes her shiver, and she hardly has time to register what he’s doing before he’s tucking it gently behind her ear. He moves slowly, his thick fingers brushing lovingly against her skin.  

Harry’s eyes scan her face, and in this moment Roni has never felt more loved. He cups her jaw and runs his thumb along her cheek, his green eyes still wet with tears. He hums, his mouth looking so irresistibly delicious, and Roni holds his eye contact with bated breath, waiting for him to do something.

“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, almost more to himself than to her. “My beautiful girl.”

“Your beautiful girl,” Roni repeats, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for finding me.”

“I’ll always find you, Veronica.”  Harry drops his hand from her jaw and wraps it around her smaller hand that’s placed in her lap. “In every timeline,” he leans in and kisses her forehead, “in every lifetime,” he kisses her nose, “I will find you,” her lips, “and I will love you with everything I have to give until my heart stops beating.”  He kisses her lips again, slower this time, before resting his forehead to hers and allowing his eyes to close.

They sit like this, silently drinking in one another’s presence, and when a tear slips down Roni’s cheek neither of them mention it.  Harry presses velvety kisses to Roni’s lips every few seconds or so, and even he’s crying after a bit.  

No words are spoken, but no words are necessary.  In fact, it doesn’t feel like there would be any words to even begin to describe the happiness in both of their hearts presently. Roni swallows down a lump in her throat and giggles, sniffling a bit.

“God,” she says, “I think I’ve cried more in the past few months than I have in my entire life.”

“Well we’re fixing that,” Harry says, pulling away and wiping at her tears. “Effective immediately. No more tears. From here on out.”

“You promise?”

“Only happy ones. I promise.”

Roni licks her lips, then leans back in to kiss him again. “I like the sound of that.”

They stay like this for a while, disregarding the way it’s getting colder by the minute and the way that the tiny bit of sun that’s peeking through the clouds is beginning to dip behind the treetops. Roni catches him up one everything that’s happened in her life since she’d left him, and Harry tells her all about all the adventures he’s had while trying to find her. They laugh, and they continue to cry on and off (which makes them laugh harder) until Harry finally notices Roni shiver subconsciously at a gust of wind.

“Getting colder,” he observes, then adds “perhaps we should get out of here.”

Roni hums in agreement. “We should.  You’ve got to meet my grandparents.”

Harry’s face changes into somewhat amused confusion. “Already?”

“What?” Roni says, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her jeans. “If you’re going to be staying with us you’re going to have to meet them eventually.”

“Yes, but….” Harry rises to his feet as well. “Don’t you think we ought to do this right? I mean, they don’t know me, you’ve just broken up with your long term boyfriend, they’re going to think I’m a creep.”

Roni giggles. “They won’t. I promise. I’ll say you’re a friend from college who’s recently moved to town. We caught up today and you needed a place to stay for a bit. They won’t care.”

“They won’t think it’s… I don’t know, improper?”

“You’ve never met my grandparents,” Roni says.  “They’re like the chillest people ever.”

When she’s met with only a look of pure confusion on Harry’s face, she laughs again. “You’re in the twenty-first century now, Harry. It’s your turn to adapt.” She lightly pinches his side, causing him to laugh.

“Suppose so,” Harry giggles, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers.  “Lots to learn.  I have a feeling you’re an excellent teacher, though.”

Roni smiles, swinging their hands as they fall into step, walking along the gravel road winding through the cemetery.  “Well, I’ll do my best,” she says.  “It’s the least I can do for you after you bent the laws of time itself to come and find me and all that.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, nodding.  “Although I won’t lie to you, Veronica, I’m a bit nervous to get it all sorted out.”

Roni gives Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze.  “Don’t be,” she replies.  “We don’t have to have it all sorted out. When have we ever had anything sorted out?”  She laughs quietly to herself.  “I’ve come to find that life is much better unplanned.”

“Yeah?”  Harry squints, eyes scanning the vast hills as the wind whips his curls messily.  “Well, I’ve come to find that you’re right about most things.”

The silence that follows is comforting and soft, but both are thinking the exact same thing.  Sure, it is a bit terrifying to start a life together--properly--like this.  Harry is here to stay, and as wonderful and exciting as that is, they both know it’s going to be hard work.  He’s going to have to adapt, and it isn’t going to be easy.  He’s starting from scratch.  No job, no house, nothing.

But he does have his honey by his side.  And somehow that’s enough.

They exit the cemetery, hand in hand, and Harry tries his best not to look so clueless as he observes the world around him.  Roni is patient and gentle with him, answering any questions he has and giggling when he makes jokes.  They’ve fallen into their comfortable swing of things that they’ve both missed so deeply, and Harry reckons that with his Veronica holding his hand, he can conquer anything.

As they approach Roni’s grandparents’ house, however, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach begin to act up.  His hands grow sweaty and he hopes Roni doesn’t notice.  (She does.)  He wipes his free hand on the thigh of his trousers and swallows, slowing the pace of  his walking until he stops altogether.

He looks up at the big house, daunting but quaint and surrounded by a completely innocent looking white picket fence, and he can feel Roni watching him.  She’s nervous, too, he knows it.  She gives his hand a squeeze before letting go, and his hand falls dully to his side.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Roni asks quietly.  “I mean, are you sure this is what you want?  To be here, in a different time, re-learning the world and the people in it?”

Harry turns to her now.  “Of course this is what I want,” he insists, almost defensively. “I just… it’s a bit more scary close up, isn’t it?”

Roni knows he isn’t talking about the house.

“It is,” she says slowly, after a beat.  “But, if I know anything for sure, it’s that you and I make an excellent team.  Whatever the circumstance, we can navigate it together, even if we haven’t got a clue what the right answer is. Somehow I know we’re always going to figure it out.”  She lowers her voice, stepping in closer to Harry.  “You’re the bravest, most wonderful man I know, Harry.  You’re going to be fine.”

He turns to her, smiling as he swallows down the nauseous feeling in his throat.   She beams.  “You’re going to be just fine,” she repeats.

Harry reaches forward, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to each of her knuckles.  “Alright,” he says quietly.  “I’m ready.”

Roni smiles, squeezing his hand again and taking a deep breath in through her nose.  “To our new life,” she says.

“To our future,” Harry adds.  “To… forever.”

Roni nods.  “Forever.  Yeah.”

With deep breaths and trembling fingers, Harry and Roni step though the little gate surrounding the yard of the house and make their way onward.  Into their future.  Into the intimidating uncertainty of navigating a life brought on by such unique and odd circumstances.  Two souls, interwoven and transcending time and space itself for the chance to be together, taking on the new set of challenges that await them because they have each other.

No matter where they end up in any lifetime, together or apart, they will always find one another somewhere in time.