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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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The Bad Batch: A Crosshair Analysis

Hello, Star Wars fandom! I have just completed watching—and loving—The Bad Batch, which you know means I now need to dump all my thoughts about the first season into the tumblr void. Specifically, thoughts on the complicated drama that is Crosshair. I have no doubt that the majority of what I’m about to say will be old news to anyone who watched the show when it came out (I’m slow...), but I’m writing it all out anyway. Largely for my own sanity enjoyment :D

I want to preface all of this by saying that the above is not an exaggeration. I love the show and I love the entire cast. My enjoyment in each of the characters is directly connected to my enjoyment of the season as a whole, which I say because I’m about to get pretty critical towards some of the characters’ choices and, to a lesser extent, the writing choices that surround those. Does this mean I secretly hate The Bad Batch? Quite the opposite. I’m invested, which is presumably just what Filoni wants. I’m just hoping that investment pays off.

But enough of the disclaimers. Let’s start with the matter of the inhibitor chip. I’ve seen fans take some pretty hard stances on both sides: Crosshair is completely innocent because he’s definitely been under the chip’s control this whole time, no matter what he might say. Crosshair is completely guilty because he said the chip was removed a long time ago and he chose to do all this, no moral wiggle room allowed. However, the reality is that we don’t know enough to make a clear call either way. The audience, simply put, does not have all the necessary information. What we have instead is a couple of facts combined with claims that may or may not be reliable. Let’s lay them out:

Crosshair was definitely under the chip’s control at the start of the series.

He was able to resist it to a certain extent, resulting in a pressure to obey orders coupled with a primary loyalty to his squad. See: telling Hunter to follow the Empire’s commands—which includes killing kid Padawans—but not turning his team in as traitors when they did not. It’s an in-between space.

Crosshair’s chip was then amplified to an unknown extent. I’m never going to claim I’m a Star Wars aficionado—I’m a casual fan, friends. Please don’t yell at me over obscure lore lol—but within TBB’s canon, no one else is undergoing that experimentation. The effects of this are entirely unknown, which includes Crosshair’s free will, or lack thereof.

Crosshair then becomes a clear tool of the Empire, hunting down innocents, killing on a whim, the whole, evil shebang.

In “Reunion” he’s caught by the engine and suffers severe burns to his face. One leaves a scar that covers precisely the place where the chip would have been extracted.

Removing the chip leaves its own scar behind. If Crosshair’s was removed, we can’t see that scar due to the burn.

After these events Crosshair seems to mellow a bit. He does horrible things under the Empire’s orders—like shooting the senator—but is still loyal to his squad—killing his non-clone teammates to give TBB a chance, saving AZ and Omega, etc.

Crosshair claims that his chip has already been removed. However, Crosshair is arguably an unreliable source if he’s been lied to or if the chip is still there, encouraging him to manipulate the team.

Crosshair claims it was removed a long time ago, which is incredibly imprecise. As we can see from just some of the events listed above, precisely when the chip came out—if it came out—makes a huge difference.

Hunter realizes this and presses for clarification, but Crosshair dodges giving it. Again, a legitimate belief that it doesn’t matter, or evidence that he can’t say because something else is going on? We don’t know.

Hunter checks Crosshair’s head and finds the burn scar which proves… nothing. As stated above, they wouldn’t be able to see the surgery scar one way or another: its existence or its absence. It’s useless data, as Tech might say. I’ve seen a few fans claim that Hunter was also feeling for the chip with his enhanced senses, but 1. I didn’t catch any evidence of that in the scene and 2. Even if we assume Hunter did that anyway, the chips are notoriously hard to spot. Fives and AZ couldn’t find the chip at first when examining Tup. Ahsoka had to use the force to find it in Rex. TBB themselves couldn’t find it at first in Wrecker. If machinery consistently fails to find the chip on the first couple of tries—it’s meant to be a hidden implant, after all—why would we believe Hunter’s senses could pick it up instantly? Maybe he missed it, or maybe it wasn’t there at all.

Crosshair appears to be struggling with a headache in the finale, just as he was at the beginning of the season and just like Wrecker was for the first half.

The point of listing all this out is to emphasize how ambiguous this whole situation is. I don’t want to use this post to argue one way or another about whether Crosshair’s chip is really out. I have my preferred theory (the chip’s still in, but only partially functional), but at the end of the day none of this is conclusive. The writing takes us in what I hope is deliberate circles. Crosshair says the chip is out? Crosshair is not a reliable source of information until we know if the chip is out. What other evidence is there that the chip is gone? A scar? We can’t see if there’s a scar. Hunter’s abilities? He only checked once for a canonically hard to find implant—if he actually checked at all. And why would the Empire want the chip out? Well, maybe it has to do with that push towards willing soldiers, but if that were the case, why leave Crosshair behind and have the “clones die together”? By that point he was one of the most willing, chip or not. Did they have to take it out because of the engine accident? Pure speculation. We just don’t know and THAT is the point I want to make.

Because it means the rest of the Bad Batch didn’t know either.

The core issue I have here is not whether the chip is in or out, or even how long it may have been in if it is out now. The issue is that TBB spent 99% of the first season believing that Crosshair was under the chip’s influence… and they didn’t try to do anything about that. They abandoned him. They left a man behind. Does this make them all horrible monsters? Of course not! This shit is complicated as hell, but I do think they made a very large mistake and that Crosshair has every right to be furious about it.

“But, Clyde, they couldn’t have gone back. It was too dangerous! Hunter had a duty to his whole team, not just Crosshair.” True enough and I’d buy this argument 100% if Hunter hadn’t spent the entire season throwing his team into dangerous, seemingly impossible situations to save other people. Crosshair became the exception, not a hard rule of something they had to avoid. They went back to Kamino for Omega, a kid they’d only had one lunch with, despite knowing how dangerous the Empire was. They went into the heart of an occupied planet to rescue not just a stranger, but one belonging to the Separatist government. They helped Sid when she asked and there was plenty of compassion for the criminal trying to take her place. Most significantly, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation to go rescue Hunter when he was under the Empire’s control, in precisely the same place. Every explanation I’ve seen fans come up with—Kamino is too fortified, they don’t know where Crosshair is, they can’t risk Omega being captured, etc.—also holds true for Hunter, yet there wasn’t a second of doubt about needing to at least try to help him. And his rescue was arguably far more dangerous given that TBB knew they were walking into a trap. Going after Crosshair would have at least had some element of surprise.

I think the problem with these justifications is most easily seen in “Rescue on Ryloth” and, later, “War-Mantle.” In the former, we do watch Hunter decide that going on a rescue mission is too much of a risk, only for Omega to talk him into considering it.

Hunter: “It’s a big galaxy. We can’t put ourselves on the line every time someone’s in trouble.”

Omega: “Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?”

Hunter: “It’s not worth the risk.”

Omega: “She’s trying to save her family, Hunter. I’d do the same for you.”

The arguments that sway him are ‘Soldiers should help people’ and ‘Soldiers should specifically help their family.’ So… what does that say about their feelings for Crosshair? They’re willing to put themselves on the line for the parents of a girl they met once at a drop site, but not their own brother? That’s the message the writing sends. “But, Clyde, the difference is that they had an advantage here. Hera’s knowledge of her home planet tipped the odds in their favor.” Yeah… and Crosshair is stationed on TBB’s home planet. Even more than them collectively having the same knowledge that Hera does, “Return to Kamino” reveals that Omega always had additional, insider knowledge of the base: she has access to a secret landing pad and the tunnels leading up into the city. That knowledge was given and used the second Hunter’s freedom was on the line, but it never once came up to use for Crosshair’s benefit.

“War-Mantle’s” mission puts this problem in even sharper relief. Another claim I’ve seen a lot is that TBB only took risky rescue missions because they needed to be paid. The guys have got to eat after all. Yet Tech makes it clear that going after Gregor will lose them money. They’re meant to be on a mission for Sid and deviating for that won’t result in a payment. He explicitly says that if they decide to do this, they won’t eat. They do it anyway. No money, no intel, a huge risk “on a clone we don’t even know.” But that’s not what’s important, the show says. All that matters is that a brother is in trouble. This time it’s Echo pushing that message instead of Omega. When Hunter realizes that they’re about to try and infiltrate an entire facility and they don’t even know if this clone is still alive, Echo points out that they took that risk once before: for him. “If there’s a chance that trooper is being held against his will, we have to try and get him out.”

Yes! Exactly right! So why doesn’t that apply to Crosshair?

“Because he tried to kill them, Clyde!” No, that’s the easy, dismissive answer. A chipped Crosshair tried to kill them. AKA, a Crosshair entirely under the Empire’s control. The only difference between his enslavement and Gregor’s is that Gregor’s chains were physical while Crosshair’s were mental. And again, the point of everything at the start of this post is to show that no one knows when or even if that chip was removed. TBB definitely didn’t have any reason to suspect that Crosshair was working under his own power until Crosshair himself said as much. We might have been able to make that case at the start of the season, but “Battle Scars” removes any possible confusion. The entire team watched Rex reach for his blaster when he learned their chips were still in. The entire team watched Wrecker become a totally different person and attack them, just like Crosshair did. The entire team forgave him instantly and had their own chips removed. So why in the world didn’t anyone go, “Wow, Crosshair has a chip too. He was no more responsible for attacking us than Wrecker was. We need to try to get him out, no matter how hard that might be, just like we had to try for all these other people we’ve helped.”

But they didn’t. No one even considered rescuing Crosshair. They only went back for Hunter and, when they realized Crosshair was there too, they didn’t change their plans to try and rescue him as well. He’s treated as a particularly threatening inconvenience, not another team member in need of their help.

The problem I have with how this all went down is that the team treated Crosshair like an enemy despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite Omega outright saying that this isn’t his fault, it’s the chip, the group seems to decide that he’s gone crazy or something and that there’s nothing they can do. “It’s fine,” I thought. “They don’t really get what the chip is like yet. They don’t understand how thoroughly it controls someone.” But then “Battle Scars” arrives and Wrecker is treated with such compassion (which he deserves!) only for the group to continue acting like Crosshair is somehow different. It’s easy to say, “But Crosshair shot Wrecker” and ignore the easy pushback of, “and Wrecker nearly shot Omega.” Up until Crosshair’s own accusations and Omega’s ignored comments, TBB’s understanding of the chip’s influence and the lack of responsibility that accompanies mysteriously disappears when the show’s antagonist becomes the subject of conversation. This is seen most clearly in how Hunter tries to frame things during his talk with Crosshair:

“You tried to kill us. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Can’t you see that they’re using you? It’s that inhibitor chip in your head.”

“You really don’t get who we are, do you?”

Hunter mentions the chip, but he acts as if it’s Crosshair’s responsibility to overcome it: “Can’t you see…” Of course he can’t see, that’s the entire point of the chip, the thing he currently believes Crosshair still has stuck in his head. But Hunter and the others—with Omega as a wonderful exception—never seem to have accepted this like they did for Wrecker. When Crosshair “tried to kill us” it’s seen as a deliberate act that he chose, not something forced on him like with Wrecker. When Hunter talks about their ethics, he subconsciously separates the team from Crosshair: “You really don’t get who we are, do you?”, revealing a pretty ingrained divide between them. Even Wrecker gets in on the action, the one brother who truly understands how much the chip controls someone: “All that time, you didn’t even try to come back.” What part of he couldn’t try is not hitting home here? Again, for the purposes of this conversation it doesn’t matter whether Crosshair was chipped this whole time or not. The point is that TBB believed he was chipped… and yet still expected him to somehow, magically overcome that programming, writing him off when he failed to do that. He’s consistently held responsible for actions that they were told (and, through Wrecker, saw) were completely outside of his control. Even when we factor in his claim that the chip was removed, TBB has ignored all the evidence I listed at the start. No one, not even Omega, challenges this super vague and strange claim, or seeks out proof because they don’t want to believe that their brother could willingly do this. There’s just this... acceptance that of course Crosshair went bad. Why? Because he was an asshole sometimes? Taking it all as written, it doesn’t feel like the batch considered him a true part of the team. Certainly not like Wrecker or Hunter. As shown, the batch will go out of their way, risk anything, forgive anything, for them. They have a level of faith that was never shown to Crosshair.

“Severe and unyielding,” Tech says and he’s absolutely right, but I’d seriously challenge this idea that any of the others would have automatically done better if the situations were reversed. It stood out to me that each batch member has a moment of doubt throughout the series, a brief glimpse into how they think the Empire isn’t that bad, at least when it comes to this particular thing. Basically, a moment that could lead to a very dangerous line of thinking without others to stomp it down. Wrecker announces that he’s happy working for whoever, provided they give him food and let him blow things up. Tech finds the chain codes to be an ingenious strategy and is clearly fascinated with their development. Hunter initially wants Omega to stay on Kamino, despite knowing that this Empire has already, systematically killed an entire group of people: the Jedi. Doesn’t matter. She’s still (supposedly) safer there than she would be running with the likes of them.

There’s absolutely no doubt that those three made the correct choice in defying the Empire, but I believe that their ability to make that choice is largely dependent on them having each other. They survive together, not apart, and it’s their unity that allows them to make the really hard calls, like setting out on their own and opposing such a formidable force. But if Tech’s chip had activated and he’d been left behind, would he have muscled through to escape somehow...or would he have gotten caught up in all the new technology the Empire offered him, succumbing to both his chip and the inevitability that if his squad no longer wanted him, why not stay? Would Wrecker have escaped, or been easily manipulated into a new life of exploding things? Would Hunter have been able to push through without his brothers, or would he have become devoted to a new team to lead? Obviously there’s no way to ever know, but it’s always easier to make the right decisions when you have support in doing so. Crosshair had no support. His team left him and yes, they had to in that specific moment, but the point is that they never came back. As far as we saw throughout the season, they never planned to come back. They all talk about loving the Crosshair who existed when life was easier, but they weren’t willing to fight for the Crosshair that most needed their help. When he says “You weren’t loyal to me,” he’s absolutely right. The same episode, “Return to Kamino,” gives Omega two powerful lines that the group rallies behind:

Omega: “[The danger] doesn’t matter. Saving Hunter is what matters.”

AZ: “You must leave.”

Omega: “Not without Hunter.”

The key word there is “Hunter.” Danger, stakes, risk, probability… none of that matters when Hunter needs help. Crosshair did not receive that same level of devotion.

Which creates a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. The group is upset that Crosshair isn’t rejoining them, but they fail to realize that he has no reason to trust them anymore. He’s not joining the Empire because he’s inherently evil and that’s that, end of discussion. He’s joining it because above all Crosshair wants a place to belong… and TBB has made it clear—unintentionally—that he does not belong with them. The horrible actions that Crosshair took under his own free will (theoretically) came after he realized that doing bad things while under the Empire’s control was, apparently, unforgivable. If it wasn’t, his team would have come back to rescue him. They could have at least tried. But they didn’t, so Crosshair is left with the conclusion that either what he did under the Empire’s control is something the group can’t forgive him for, or they can forgive that (like with Wrecker) and he’s the problem here. He’s the one not worth that effort.

“The Empire will be fazing out clones next,” Hunter says. To which Crosshair responds, “Not the ones that matter.”

He wants to matter to someone and events show he no longer matters to his brothers. So why not stay with the Empire? I mean, we as the audience ABSOLUTELY know why not. Self-doubt and feelings of isolation aren’t excuses for joining the Super Evil Organization. Crosshair, if he is under his own control, is still 100% in the wrong for supporting them, no matter his reasons. So it’s not an excuse, but rather an explanation of that very human, flawed, fallible thinking. He needs to be useful. He needs to be wanted. Crosshair is an absolute dick to the regs and I have no doubt that a lot of that stems from the harassment TBB has experienced from them (with a side of his inflated ego), but I’d bet it’s also due to Crosshair’s intense desire to be valuable to someone. He keeps pointing out the regs’ supposed deficiencies because it highlights his own usefulness. When Crosshair fails to find Hera, the Admiral says that soon he’ll get someone who can, looking straight at Howzer at the door. It makes Crosshair seethe because his entire identity is based on being useful, yet no one seems to need him anymore. TBB seems to no longer want him. The Empire no longer wants clones. Now even regs are considered a better option than him, the “superior” soldier. Everywhere Crosshair turns he’s getting the message that he’s not wanted, but he’ll keep fighting to at least be needed in some capacity, no matter how small. Even if that means overlooking all the horrors the Empire commits.

“All you’ll ever be to [the Empire] is a number,” Hunter says and he’s absolutely right. But to TBB recently, Crosshair hasn’t even been that. He’s been nothing. Nobody worth coming back for. To his mind, at least being a number is something.

I hope that all of this resolves itself into a conclusion that is kind to each side (preferably without a Vader-style death redemption), especially given the still ambiguous state of the chip, but from a writing standpoint I’m admittedly a bit wary. We’re obviously meant to believe that the batch all love each other, but as established throughout this entirely too long post, this season did a terrible job imo of proving that they love Crosshair. Or, at least, proving that they love him as much as the others. If this was really meant to be just a matter of miscommunication, with Crosshair making terrible life choices because he only thinks he was abandoned, then we as the audience would have seen the batch trying and failing to get him out. Or at least establishing a very good reason why they couldn’t take that risk, hopefully with entirely different side-missions so the audience isn’t constantly going, “So you can risk everything for Gregor... but not Crosshair?” I’m VERY glad that Crosshair was allowed to air his grievances to the extent he did, but the end result of that—Hunter continually denying this, Omega walking away from him in their rooms, neither Tech nor Wrecker actually sticking up for him and acknowledging the chip’s influence during at least some of all this—is making things feel rather one-sided. It’s like we’re meant to take Crosshair at his word and accept that he’s this garden-variety antagonist who joins the Empire because yay being on the winning side… despite all these complications that clearly have a huge impact on how we read the situation. It doesn’t help that the show has already embraced an inconsistent manner of portraying chipped-clones. We know every clone has one, we know only a couple clones are aware of the chip’s existence (and can thus try to get it out), we know they enter a “Good soldiers follow orders” mindlessness once activated… yet towards the end we see a lot of side character clones thinking for themselves. Howzer decides that he’s no longer loyal to the Empire, giving a speech where a couple other clones throw down their weapons too. Gregor was arrested because he likewise realized how wrong this all was. But how is that possible? Do the chips completely control the clones, or not? Are these clones somehow exceptions? Are the chips beginning to fail? All of that has a bearing on how we read Crosshair—what were his own decisions, how much he was capable of overcoming the chip, whether that changed at all during certain points—but right now that remains really unclear.

It’s details like that which make me wonder if all these other questions will be answered. Will the story resolve all those ambiguous moments surrounding the chip, or brush them off with the belief that we should have just taken Crosshair at his equally ambiguous word? Will the story acknowledge Crosshair’s points through someone other than Crosshair, allowing it to exist as a legitimate criticism, rather than the presumed excuses of an antagonist? I’m… not sure. On the whole I’m very happy with TBB’s writing—despite what all this might imply lol. Until my brain picks over the season and discovers something else, my only other gripe is not allowing Omega to form a solid bond with Tech and Echo, instead putting all the focus on big brother!Wrecker and dad!Hunter. I think it’s a solid show that does a lot right, but I’m worried that, unless there’s a brilliant answer to all these questions and an intent to unpack both sides of the Hunter vs. Crosshair debate with respect—not just falling back on, “Well, Crosshair is with the Empire so everything he says is automatically bad and wrong” take—we’ve just gotten the setup for a somewhat messy, ethical story. For anyone here who also reads my RWBY metas, I’m pretty sure you’re not at all surprised that I’m invested in going, “Hey, you had one of the heroes suddenly become/join a dictatorship and do a lot of horrific things, but within a pretty complicated context. Can we please work through that carefully and with an acknowledgement of the nuance here, rather than throwing the ‘evil’ character to the proverbial wolves?”

God knows TBB is leagues ahead of RWBY, but I hope things continue on in not just a good direction, but one that tackles the aspects of this situation that many fans—and Crosshair—have already pointed out. As much as I adore the cast—and I really, really do—it was discomforting to watch a found family show where 4/5th of that family so completely wrote off one of the members and crucially have, at least so far, refused to acknowledge that. I want complicated, flawed characters, but that’s only compelling when the storytelling admits to and grapples with those flaws. We have quite firmly established Crosshair’s flaws in Season One. I hope Season Two delves into the rest of the team’s too.

Aaaand with that meta-dump out of my system, I’m off to write TBB fic. Thanks for reading! :D

#The Bad Batch #TBB #Crosshair #Star Wars #SW #mymetas #do I take my life in my hands #by posting SW meta?#probably lol

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Be Very Afraid

This is the best story arc episode in season three and arguably the best written episode since The Great Tree, but it’s still season three so there are still issues with it.

Summary: When Zhan Tiri tells Cassandra she must destroy Rapunzel in order to wield the Moonstone's true power, Cassandra discovers that she can create, with fear, red rock spikes that cause fear and freeze their victims. Varian discovers the red rocks and teams up with Rapunzel to use his amber solution on them. Meanwhile, Eugene and Lance decide to throw a talent show to distract everyone from their fears.

Why Can’t Cassandra Control The Rocks?

The series never gives an actual explanation for this. She could control them just fine in Rapunzel’s Return, so what’s changed?

There is No Destiny!

There’s no prophecy, no oracle, no grand design nor master of fate to fight back against; the characters literally have no reason to do what they do. If you want destiny to be a goal then you have to establish what that destiny is first.

What does Cassandra want? How does this connect back to Gothel, Rapunzel, and the Moonstone? Why she just failing about like an idiot here? Did she not have a plan when she threw her life away for this stupid rock?

And of course Zhan Tiri is lying here, but why should Cassandra believe her? What does she gain by listening to a creepy ghost girl? This ‘destiny’ has not been established, so therefore there’s no hook nor bait for Zhan Tiri to trap her with.

Leading directly into “you should kill your bestie’ should logically put Cassandra off of Zhan Tiri’s advice for good because Zhan Tiri isn’t actually offering anything. Temptation requires the person to be, you know, tempted by what they want, but Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants so none of this makes sense.

The writing is desperately trying to make Cass sympathetic here, but all it winds up doing is making her look like a moron instead.

This Isn’t Consistent

Not only does this fail to explain why Cass could control the rocks previously but no longer can, but it’s also contradicted just a couple of episodes later with the incantation bullshit.

You need an established magic system in place in order for the character’s actions to make sense show!

This Ultimately Goes Nowhere

Ignoring how Varian should have been in season two and how translating the scroll should have led to freeing his father, which we’ve talked about previously; this subplot should have had more impact on the narrative than it actually did. Yes, Varian’s translation winds up driving the plot of Cassandra’s Revenge, but 90% of that episode winds up being utterly pointless, including the incantations themselves, so....

I Like This Sequence; Shame It Winds Up Being Undermined Later

Unlike the majority of dream sequences in this show, this nightmare has an actual point. It more firmly establishes Varian’s fears and gives the audience some insight into what happened to him back in season one. Something we were sorely lacking. It also becomes the core conflict and drive of Varian’s character development through out the episode.

Only for the episode to ignore Varian’s real issues and fail to adequately address anything. By series end this plot point will be completely forgotten. The show acts like bringing it up once and then never acknowledging it ever again just magically revolves Varian’s character arc. It doesn’t.

So How Come Quirin Isn’t Affected By the Rocks?

He’s right there next to them and he shows no reaction to them at all. You’re telling me the man who lost his home twice to these things, almost died to them, and nearly lost his only child because of them, is just not going to respond to new creepy red ones popping up?

Quirin would have a treasure trove of trauma to explore in his own right, that undoubtedly would connect back to Varian’s own issues, but we’re just going to ignore it and have Quirin off screen for the majority of the episode?

Are These New Character Models?

Are you shitting me!?

They built five new models just for a short two minute scene, one where none of the new characters are named nor given lines, only to never appear ever again!

What the fuck? Why did you waste time and money on this? What happened to all of the other background characters you already built? Did a bunch of season one models just get lost or deleted or something?

Also why are they all wearing green? Is it St. Paddy’s Day?

This Plot Point Wasn’t Established Enough Beforehand

Look, I’ll buy that there are people in Corona who still blame Varian for what happened in season one and for the Sapoiran take over. I mean they’re only getting half the story and were directly effected by his actions whether or not he intended harm to them. But we needed to see more of it beyond just this one scene.

No one was bullying him in Lost Treasure or The King and Queen of Hearts, so for all purposes he appeared to be integrated back into society, and now you’re telling me he’s not and that Rapunzel risked his well being by forcing him to interact with people who were hostile to him back in Lost Treasure?

And yeah you can’t really move Lost Treasure back any further than it already is cause that’d leave a giant hole in the wall of the throne room for over a year. Which also makes no sense either.

Or hey, maybe it’s just Feldspar being an asshole. In which case why should Varian or the audience care?

Eugene is Wasted

Look I understand that there’s only twenty five minutes to tell this story and that Eugene isn’t the focus of the episode. I also understand that the B-plot is meant to be comedic in order to relive tension from the A plot, but this wasn’t the best way to go about it.

The B plot swings too far wide in the other direction that it dilutes the tension too much. The A plot now has to work over time to keep the urgency going. I could understand it, if the show wanted start off with small fears first, but it needed to ramp up the drama as it got closer to the climax, not under cut it.

We never see Eugene freak out over anything other this this cowlick. In fact we never see him scared of anything else beyond this one scene, which undermines Rapunzel’s arc this episode as she’s suppose to be the only one bottling things in. What makes Eugene so special that he can keep a lid on it with out consequences, or are you telling me that a dumb cowlick is his only fear?

Either answer is stupid.

I Hope You Have Copies of the Map

You went through all that trouble to steal the journal for this very reason and now here you are prancing around without it like it’s not that big of deal. Way to undermined past story arcs.

It’s like the writers know that season one was their most successful season, and therefore try to make callbacks to it whenever they can, to make up for ignoring it in season two completely, but they still don’t want to actually acknowledge anything that happened during that season so they just refer to it in the laziest way possible, rendering the previous events pointless.

So Close and Yet So Far

I’m mainly posting this whole conversation so that you dear readers will have context for what I talk about next.

For you see, this scene starts out okay and it looks like we’re finally going to address the elephant in the room regarding Rapunzel’s involvement in Varian’s past trauma, only for the scene to immediately side step the issue all together and not resolve the conflict at all.

No! Don’t Interrupt; Listen!

Or at least go all the way and accept some of the blame yourself.

It may look like Rapunzel is comforting Varian here on a superficial level, but without her verballing acknowledging what she did wrong, this action just winds up taking the focus off of Varian and what he needs and places it upon Rapunzel, both narratively and physically.

So what happens is that, in universe, it comes across like she’s just consoling Varian for her own personal comfort rather than genuinely trying to help.

Why Would Varian Ever Think This?

Okay, first off this has nothing to do with what Varian was talking about previously. Why would he jump from discussing his trauma to praising Rapunzel? You know the woman who is responsible for said trauma?

Secondly, this switches the focus of the conflict off of Varian’s specific trauma and makes it about a generic “over coming fear” lesson mixed with an out of place validation issue. Which is not what’s actually needed for his character development; nor for Rapunzel’s for that matter.

Third, being the sundrop has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. Her being born with magical powers was an accident of fate, same as her being royalty. She’s not innately better than anybody else because of this and nobody has any narrative reason to assume otherwise. Especially since her powers are utterly disconnected from her actual personality, choices, and actions. All three of which have become unbearably unpleasant by the last season.

Finally, Varian, of all people should be the last person on earth to ever think so highly of Rapunzel. Them being friends again is already pushing believability. Him suddenly kissing her ass the same as everyone else this season is just flat out bad writing.

Varian knows better than anybody what an awful person Rapunzel is. He’s seen her at her worse. He’s seen her not live up to her hypocritical ideals. He knows the larger problems that steam from placing people in power on pedestals. As her former victim, Varian by all accounts should be the one person who can bring Rapunzel down to earth and poke holes into her ego, even while still being her friend. Especially while still being her friend. She needs that! Writing Varian as another blind Rapunzel stan is not only writing him out of character, but it also damages Rapunzel’s own development.

Also Varian hates magic. Why would he now worship someone just for having magic?

THIS AIN’T ABOUT YOU BITCH!!!

I literally yelled that at my tv screen when I first saw this scene. Those were my exact words upon the episode’s first airing. And believe it or not, I’m not one to usually scream obscenities at inanimate objects.

I understand what the writers were trying to accomplish here. They wanted Rapunzel to ease the tension by saying something funny and to make Varian laugh to distract him from his woes; thereby defusing the situation. But it doesn’t work because of season three’s tendency to make Rapunzel the most egotistical, smug, self-centered, abusive, self-righteous twat in the show.

It really boggles the mind just how unaware the writing is. Like, surely no one makes their protagonist this unlikable on accident. Clearly they meant for Rapunzel to be an ass on purpose right? They wanted Cass to have a reason to hate her so they decided to make her insufferable to the viewer in a misguided attempt to make Cass more sympathetic? Right?

Then where is the bloody comeuppance?

I genuinely thought this was all going to lead somewhere. That Rapunzel was going to learn to be a better person and I would have been fine by that. I would have applauded the show if they had turned her into an asshole intentionally so that they could teach a mature and nuanced lesson about morality.

But they didn’t, and here I am; still shaking my head in confusion over a year later.

Seriously what the fuck happened behind the scenes to cause this? How can processionals paid by the largest animation company in the world be so incompetent?

Having Trauma is Not the Same Thing as Having a Phobia

This is where Varian’s arc falls apart. Not only does the episode fail to have Rapunzel acknowledge her past wrongs for a second time, but it also completely mishandles Varian’s trauma because it equates it to being an irrational fear. One that can be overcome through pure force of will at that, same as Lance and everyone else’s fears in the episode.

Ok first off Varian’s fear isn’t irrational. He even just said so at the start of the conversation. Varian’s trauma is very real, it’s not a hypothetical unlike clown-spiders and cowlicks. Also has been given very little reassurance that it won't happen again. Varian has no reason to trust Rapunzel or anybody else in the show. They never owned up to abandoning him previously, and both he and the audience have little reason to believe that Rapunzel wouldn’t just neglect him again if it was convenient for her.

Secondly one does not simply ‘overcome’ trauma. Oh you can deal with trauma, you can manage it and learn to live with it. But it never goes away. It doesn’t magically disappear just because you ‘faced it’.

In fact confronting it head on is actually the opposite of what your suppose to do when going through something traumatic. Studies have shown that distracting your mind after a car crash or what have you actually helps with PTSD later on. And ‘dealing with it” doesn’t mean ignoring the problem out right, but rather learning how to function despite the pain.

But as the show acts like Varian’s trauma never even existed after this episode.

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything!

What does “being special” have to with fear? How does this help Varian with his trauma? Empty validation has nothing to with what we were just discussing.

Everyone gets afraid. Everyone has trauma of some sort. Are you telling me that my need for therapy some 20 years after being physically assaulted is just because I’m not special enough? Fuck you show!

Moreover, this doesn’t resolve the story arc from season one. Varian and Rapunzel’s conflict with each other has nothing to do with self esteem. It was about personal responsibility, conflicting needs, and abuse. Yes, self image and acceptance was a small factor in their motivations, but it was never the driving goal behind their decisions.

This is yet another broken narrative promise to the audience. There’s no closure to be had from this and leaves the viewer wanting, if not outright frustrated.

In order to justify this exchange fans have to ‘read between the lines’ and make shit up in order for any of this to make any sense. People who still defend season three do by doing all the heavy lifting that writers themselves should be doing.

If it’s not on screen, it doesn’t count.

If Rapunzel never apologizes on screen, then she never apologized. If Rapunzel never checked up on Varian on screen, then she neglected him outright. If Rapunzel never acknowledges her wrong doings on screen, then she’s never learned anything. The characters pretending like she has doesn’t make it so.

Why Does Cassandra Even Want a Destiny?

Yes, Zhan Tiri is lying, there is no destiny, but Zhan Tiri being a liar doesn’t absolve Cassandra of her own actions.

Cassandra herself believes in destiny and is looking for her’s, but why?

Why does she want a destiny? What is this destiny she’s after? Why does she believe such a thing exists? What does she believe it’ll gain her? Why is she willing to risk so much for such a vague goal? What does any of this have to do with the moonstone or her mother? How does this destiny connect back with her personal feud with Rapunzel?

It’s all disjointed and confused. Nothing lines up. It’s like the writers just had this dart board full of ideas for Cassandra’s villain arc, but couldn’t decide on which one to go with, so they just threw darts randomly each episode and went with whatever stuck for any given scene.

“Oh she want’s revenge for her mother during this scene, or wait no, she’s actually looking for destiny this episode?” “What destiny?” “Who knows. Now for this scene we need her to be sad because reasons...” “What reason?” “I don't care, make something up... Uuuuh, she’s sad cause she’s not a royal guard still” “But she became a guard during season one.” “Ignore that. Kids won’t remember. Now she needs to be angry and threating here” “Why?” “Because it’ll look cool.” “But why is she angry?” “Cause it looks cool Bob! Geez! Oh but she still needs to be sympathetic so give her a frowny face afterwards. Just have Zhan Tiri remind her how much she hates Rapunzel later, so as to egg her on and keep her doing stupid shit?” “But why does she hate Rapunzel?” “Do I have to think of everything BOB!!!???”

There, there’s my non-so-accurate behind the scene’s glimpse into the Tangled writer’s room when discussing Cassandra’s arc. I could be wrong. There could have been some intricate and complex plan thought out that just didn’t make it onto the screen for whatever reason, or maybe everyone involved was so far up their own ass that they just forgot to give their main villain an actual reason for being the villain. But regardless the over all effect is that Cassandra is handed the idiot ball for a whole freaken season in order to even have a conflict and that is never good writing; or rather she’s hit in the head with it repeatedly.

This Actually Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Zhan Tiri’s short term goal is to be released from her dimensional prison and apparently she needs Cass and Raps to fight into order to do this. This was never established before hand and goes against her disciples pervious plans, but whatever. One could argue that this is just a lie in order to get them to fight later...

However, this lie jeopardizes her long term goal. She eventually wants to wield both the moonstone and the sundrop herself in order to destroy Corona, but Rapunzel is the sundrop and you can only take her power during an ellipse, supposedly, which means if Cass actually succeeds in killing Rapunzel before then, then Zhan Tiri is up a creek without a paddle. Also if Cassandra did manage to steal Raps’ power with or without an ellipse then Zhan Tiri would still be out of luck.

This was wholly unnecessary; you didn’t have to go from zero to sixty in one fell swoop. Have Zhan Tiri claim that fighting Rapunzel will award the power to the winner or something. There’s no need to bring up the ‘kill her’ option. That should logically just drive Cassandra away and puts Zhan Tiri’s plan at risk.

The series wants to act like Zhan Tiri is this master manipulator, a chess master like Zantos or Palpatine, but she couldn’t even tie their shoes. Her plans make no sense and often contradict one another. They only work because the rest of the cast are reduced to imbeciles in order for them to work.

This Plot Point Contradicts Season Two

His fear of spiders was establish early on, and I’ll accept the clown thing as there’s nothing to contradict it, but Lance has preformed numerous times before now and has never show stage fright. He’s a huge ham and back in Return of Quaid he mentioned how much loved acting and preforming and apparently been on stage before, so where does this fear of singing in public come from? Heck he sung in public just a few episodes ago in Rapunzel’s Return.

If you have to sacrifice established character into order to make your plot work then you need a new plot.

This Song is Nice; It Just Needed to Be in a Different Episode

I’m glad Lance got a solo. He deserved one and the song is good. However it breaks the tension of the climax and gives the episode tonal whiplash.

More than a song, Lance needed an actual focus episode in season three. One that was fully his. If anyone else shared it with him it needed to be Red and Angry, not Varian and Cass.

Just imagine if this song came during an episode where he had to watch the girls. Imagine if he was singing it just for them. How much more impactful would that have been?

Now imagine that we had a Rapunzel and Varian duet in it’s place here. That would have tied the episode together better and helped to further their own stories. Glenn Slater can write lyrics far better than Chris can write dialogue. I bet you a thousand to one Tangled the Series would have solved like half of it’s problems had Menken and Slater been allowed write and actual apology duet between Raps and Varian.

Such a duet was proposed during Rapunzel’s Return but it could have worked here too, and you could have placed Lance’s solo in Day of the Animals or something, just leave Rapunzel out of that episode all together.

Nothing honestly needed to be cut music wise, yet for some reason season three has less songs than the other seasons, even when counting the reprises, and they’re mostly shorter too.

That’s mismanagement right there. Plain and simple. Someone at the top didn’t know how to balance the budget or resources and didn’t know where to the throw the money at.

You Have a 70 Foot Shield Made of Magic Hair, Rapunzel

You couldn’t think to just block those rocks instead?

Giving your protagonist a big hero moment doesn’t work if they placed the person the have to save in jeopardy to begin with show.

I Do Not Care About Rapunzel Right Now, Show

Yes, she’s the main character. Yes, her feud with Cass is the main conflict of the season and kicked off the episode. That does not mean that I automatically care about her personal feelings at this moment in time.

Rapunzel has kept such a tight lid on her real feelings for the whole episode that this just comes out of nowhere. I was never waiting with baited breath for her to confess her deep dark secrets or whatever.

It’s not even an interesting reveal. It’s just “Oh, see Rapunzel’s human too. She’s gets scared just like everybody else.”. I already fucking knew that, thanks. And what she’s afraid of isn’t even that compelling either; it’s a just a rip off of the prophecy dreams she had back in season one. The same ones that had no explanation and never furthered the story, so why should I care about this one?

You have to earn the audience’s investment in your conflict. The character’s likability, as little as that may be currently, will only carry you so far, you have to establish shit first.

Varian’s conflict has been the focus of the entire episode so far, and it’s a conflict that was set all the way back in season one, so of course that is what I’m invested in seeing get resolved. Rapunzel is once again just butting in and making it all about her when it’s not actually her story.

And if you wanted it to be her story then you should have made her the actual focus to begin with and had her learn something by the end of it.

This is Poor Choice of Words, Writers

I could be generous here and pass this off as Rapunzel not fully believing in this prophecy. After all Corona’s destruction is still a hypothetical at this point and Cassandra really has left already. Since the episode is about fear, Rapunzel is of course more afraid of losing Cassandra’s friendship as it’s real tangible possibility.

More than a possibility even, Rapunzel’s been dumped. Season three is a classic break up story, right down to the poor plotting and tunnel vision, hence why it’s so gay baity.

However, this reading only carries so far. For starters this is Rapunzel’s what, fourth prophecy dream so far? Haven’t the past three already came true, so why would she think this one wouldn’t?

Secondly, all that good grace goes right out the window once it becomes clear that, yes, Cassandra is indeed a threat; a threat that Rapunzel refuses to take seriously because she cares more about her own personal validation than her kingdom.

Even as Cassandra does succeed in destroying Corona, and no doubt harms other people while at it, Rapunzel still is obsessed with ‘winning Cassandra back’. Oh and make no mistake, this is not because she actually cares about Cassandra as a person and her needs or feelings. Nope. Rapunzel just doesn’t like being dumped.

Why Does Varian Need to Shove His Feelings Aside for Rapunzel’s Bullshit?

Rapunzel’s ‘confession’ has fuck all to do with Varian’s current issues. They do not connect in any way.

Varian is dealing with real trauma, trauma that she helped cause, while Rapunzel is only dealing with a hypothetical prophecy and one very shallow, self-centered fear. There’s nothing to relate to here. Neither for Varian himself nor the audience.

Yet for some undefined reason this is what gets Varian to ignore his PTSD flashbacks? What?

This is once again break the narrative promise. I was promised closure for Varian’s story arc and instead of that the writers just brush it up under the rug.

From the outside looking in this doesn’t come across as Varian ‘overcoming’ his ‘fear’. It looks like an abuse victim using learned helplessness to placate his abusers.

And yes, for the last time Rapunzel is Varian’s abuser.

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!!

And and even though he is no longer her ‘responsibility’, she is still neglecting him emotionally as his supposed friend.

Varian’s and Cassandra’s Stories Undermined Each Other’s

Varian stopped the rocks. Rapunzel had nothing to do with it. Zhan Tiri blaming Rapunzel for it steals agency away from both her and Cassandra.

However, if Rapunzel had used the hurt incantation to stop the rocks and Cassandra had felt it rom the other side, then you’d have something to back up Zhan Tiri’s claim and an actual point of real conflict to carry the rest of the season. Not to mention an actual tangible goal for Cassandra to work towards, survival.

Cassandra’s conflict with Rapunzel not only prevents the resolution to Varian’s arc from being satisfying, but Varian fulfilling his arc in turn winds up cutting off Cass’s story at the knees.

It didn’t have to be this way. Varian’s and Cassandra’s arcs should have complimented each other, but instead the creator decided to make them complete for screen time and relevance.

It is such an gratingly stupid and petty decision that winds up being a disservice for all the characters involved.

Cassandra’s motivation and goal should have been revealed back in season two. Varian should have been the sole focus of Rapunzel’s Return and gotten his big hero moment there along; with an actual ending to his conflict with Rapunzel that didn’t feel so lopsided and half assed. Then Rapunzel and Cassandra could have both been held accountable for their conflict in season three, instead of pretending like their shit smelled of roses the whole damn time.

Lance Got a Whole Crowd Cheering Him On For Singing a Song, Varian Just Gets One Asshole Giving Him a Single Line of Congratulations

Did I mention this show has an odd anti-Varian bias? Cause it does. For whatever reasons his own creators hate him and that’s just utterly baffling to me. Like why create a main character that you don’t like?

I look down on professional writers who treat characters they didn’t create poorly within their works, like with James Gunn and Scrappy Doo in the Scooby Doo Movie, Adric in the Doctor Who spin offs, or even the treatment of Doofus in Ducktales 2017. I don't care how much a character is liked or disliked by fandom, that shit is just tasteless and often unfunny. But at least I understand where they are coming from when they do it.

But I’ll never understand what compels a writer to sabotage their own work; one that they are getting paid to write no less. Especially when said character is super popular with their fans. And Chris knows this. He knows the ratings plummeted without Varian in season two. He knows the merch didn’t sell because there wasn’t enough Varian products. That’s why he hyped up Varian’s return a whole week before Season Three’s airing with a massive online campaign, but he wasn’t smart enough to treat the character decently afterwards?

I mean congrats, you convinced a just enough viewers to come back to season three to keep the show on the air I guess, but you left them all pissed off and have nothing to show for it to the higher ups a Disney.

And Chris wonders why he wasn’t asked back to work on new Disney princesses shows that are currently in the works.

That is Not Quirin. That is a Plank of Wood Pretending to be Quirin.

*Beep* *Boop*...*Dad Bot Is Proud. exe*

Quirin is such a pale shadow of his season one self that he might as well not exist. I genuinely don't know why the writers released from the amber so early if they weren’t actually going to use him until the season finale.

For the longest time I honestly thought that Rapunzel sucked out his soul with that decay incantation; what with that lyric about “setting the spirit free”. I genuinely thought that would be a later plot point, but nope, it’s just bad writing

Him just saying hi to son once and smiling blankly isn’t compelling and it’s isn’t fulfilling. It doesn’t actually resolve his arc. I mean he’s at least shown spending time with his son, but that’s not enough. We need to see him acknowledge past, we need to see him acknowledge his own flaws, and we need to see him being more attentive when Varian is in need. .

Season one Quirin would be trying to stop Varian from going near the red rocks, a post season one Quirin should logically go after his son to make sure he’s alright, even if he’s know longer trying to actively stop Varian like he once did.

There’s also that damn note and it’s secrets!

You know what? That’s it. That’s the problem. The focus is all wrong in season three. Episodes get pulled into to many directions trying to juggle too many characters rather than dedicating the needed time to each individual arc.

Season two’s finale should have been a three parter with Cass’s full motivation and goal laid bare before leaving.

Rapunzel’s Return should have been solely about Rapunzel and Varian’s conflict and resolving that arc fully

Either Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf or Day of the Animals should have been a Lance episode about him and the girl’s, no Rapunzel.

And this episode should have been about Quirin and Varian resolving their issues, with the Rapunzel and Cass stuff as the B plot not the stupid talent show

There, all fixed. You don't even have to cut much, just rework the focus and leave Rapunzel and Cassandra out of conflicts they have no business being in.

This Does Not Excuse Rapunzel’s Later Negligence Regarding Cassandra

Just because the red rocks was an accident doesn’t mean Cassandra should get a free pass for all the awful things she does later. Rapunzel uses this one interaction to excuse everything else Cassandra does in season three, as if she was just some poor lost baby and not a grown ass woman out to kill them.

In fact Cass showing hesitancy here actually makes her later actions even worse. This means that she fully acknowledges that what she’s about to do is wrong, but goes ahead and does anyway, even gleefully so at times. Then she has to gall to act baffled when people see her as a threat? 0.o

When fans say Cass isn’t redeemable or shouldn’t be redeemed, it’s not because he actions are so much worse than everybody else’s (even though they are), It’s because she doesn’t act like she wants to be redeemed half the time. The show doesn’t properly set up her ‘redemption’, instead it just lazily has Rapunzel yell at us how she’s ‘not lost’.

Like below for instance.

What Does Cass Need Saving From?

Cassandra is not in danger. She is the danger.

She made the conscious decision to leave taking a world endangering artifact with her, and she later makes the conscious decision to come back and be an asshole for no adequately defined reason.

She’s never shown to be in any physical danger from the rocks, the moonstone, or even Zhan Tiri herself. She apparently can take care of herself in the wild for over a year. She also has the capability of getting a job else where and just living out her life if she wanted to. Nothing is forcing her to listen to Zhan Tiri.

Heck, even her hurt arm, the one thing Rapunzel is responsible for and could potentially be a continued threat to Cass’s well being, is just completely forgotten about.

And no, mental illness and past trauma are not excuses as well. In fact it’s rather insulting to both people with mental heath problems and abusive survivors to suggest otherwise. We don't need ‘saving from ourselves’ and we aren’t automatically dangers to anybody. Nor do we get free passes if we hurt someone. A jerk who happens to have a mental illness is just a jerk who so happens to have a mental illness; coloration is not causation.

Conclusion

It’s better than Rapunzel’s Return, but this episode was still a disappointment. A small part of me whishes this was a two parter because it has so much untapped potential, but I know it’s just be wasted in Chris’s hands.

Anyways, I consider this to be the true mid-season finale of S3. Not only did the hiatus kick in after this episode, but it also clearly divides the season between the first half filler and the later Cass conflict. As such the next entry will be the mid-season recap. See ya, then.

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#anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-casandra #varian #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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uhgoodmoni · 3 years ago

Text

I’ll Sleep on the Floor | JJK

Summary: Eunjae (oc) and Jungkook aren’t really friends. Like, at all. Actually Eunjae hates Jungkook’s guts. The real issue is that they both are best friends with Seokjin, who wishes that they would just get over their seemingly petty hatred for one another. So to try and solve that Jin invites them to a trip in Greece. Should be fun in paradise? But paradise turns to disaster when a flight gets delayed... they need a hotel and... There’s only ONE bed??

Warnings: Angst cause I always have angst, some fluff ig, idk this ones pretty chill tbh, implied anxiety

(14,286 words)

Ao3 | Wattpad

With my suitcase trailing behind me, wheels scoring the tiles, I walk towards my gate. The first flight was easy up until the end. I napped restfully the entire time but as we came to Tbilisi International Airport in Georgia, the captain had announced that the descent would have rough turbulence because of the storm that was starting. Rough turbulence indeed, a few storage bins had opened up, allowing passengers belongings to fall to the cabin floor. My items were safe, luckily, but the woman seated in front of me had gotten a book to the face. We landed safely and that really was the only thing to be concerned about. Thunder echoed throughout the airport, the flash of lightning shining through the windows. This was bad, very bad. The second flight I would take, Tbilisi air to Athens air. Would it get delayed? I pray not as I walked towards the gate.

Seokjin and I had planned the trip to the T, the next departure an hour and a half after the time we’d land in Tbilisi. A shame we even had to have a layover but our last minute planning had cursed us with that.

I feel like calling Jin now that I have service. Or wifi anyway. So I pull out my phone as I continue my stroll. The airport here is not as busy as Incheon, but still bustling with more people than expected at 8pm.

“Did you make it?” I smile at Jin’s voice coming through the speaker of my phone, only seventy percent. I should charge it before the next flight.

“No, the plane crashed in a fiery accident and I’m calling from my deathbed.” I glance around, looking for a map, or a guide or something that would tell me if I was headed in the right direction.

“Ah, good to know. The beach is waiting here for you. The sun is setting now.”

I look out the window, “I’ve got bad news.”

“What?” He asks, his voice changing to worry after hearing the change in my own tone. “Has Jungkook’s flight not landed yet?”

I shake my head, “No, no. I don’t know where he is. I haven’t even got to my gate yet.” Looking for Jungkook? As if I could care if his plane landed or not. Hopefully it hasn’t and I can fly the final stretch to Greece alone. “There's a storm, it's thundering and I’m not sure if it is going to stick around or not. I haven't checked if our flight is on time.”

He hums, “Well figure it out and let me know.” I nod, seeing the flight list a little further down, just small enough in my vision not to see it yet. Jin stays on the line as I walk.

I glare up at the lit up sign. “Isn’t it supposed to be clear weather here.” I groan, red sign in Georgian, and next to it in English. Delayed.

“That doesn’t sound good? Delayed?”

I sigh, “Yeah.” I look towards where I think my gate is and see the correct number. A few attendants were talking to passengers. “I’m gonna go find out how long. I’ll call you back.”

He hums and hangs up first, he’s probably upset, he’d already been in Greece the whole day alone. He’d just have to wait. It’s not like I have any other choice.

The passengers are complaining of course, their nags getting to my ears before I am close to the desk. Their questions were “How long really is it?” and “you’re joking right?” But some of the other’s I didn’t understand because they weren’t speaking English or Korean.

I look around the gate, seeing that dreaded face sitting in the waiting area. He smiles at me, but only because he knows I’m unhappy to see him. I try not to let him get to me, and I walk towards him instead of the desk. Surely he already knows. Which I’m sure he does because his face turns to a frown as I get closer.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” he mutters as I reach him, standing up to face me. “But the flight is delayed.”

I shake my head. Yeah I already know that. “How long?”

He shrugs, “They haven’t said how long yet.”

“What?” I flip to the attendant at the desk. “How do they not know?”

Jungkook smirks, “It’s nice to see you by the way. And you look just great.” He says, and he’s being sarcastic. I glare and then remember to soften my face because I was sure I looked like a bitch to the poor attendant behind the desk who was already surrounded by Karens.

“Seriously?” I take a deep breath, holding in my feelings that are already about to explode. Fifteen minutes in the airport and only one minute in his presence and I was ready to punch him.

“All I said was that you look great and it’s nice to see you.” He shrugs, that smug grin never leaving his face. “And all you have to say is seriously? Can’t even greet me back?”

I ignore him, seeing an open opportunity to speak with the attendant and slip between the shoulders of two others. “Hi excuse me, this flight is delayed right?”

The person nods, “Yes I am so sorry.” But they don’t say anything else.

“Is it possible you could tell me when it’s going to take off?” I pursue further, but the attendant looks dejected, making me think Jungkook was right.

“Georgia isn’t a country where storms this bad come in. This is probably the worst storm they’ve seen this summer. We just don’t have an exact time right now.”

“You’re joking right?” I sigh to myself, and then cringe realizing I sound like everyone else who is surrounding them. “I’m sorry, actually is there any information that you can give me?”

The attendant frowns, speaking to all of us now. “It’s likely that this flight will be canceled within the hour.” They pull out a map of the airport from under the desk. “For rescheduling you’ll want to go here. They point to a dot on the far end, “It should be easy to get one within the next day or so.” My eyes widen. Day or so? I look back to Jungkook who looks equally as worried.

I thank the attendant and return to my luggage and Jungkook at the benches. “What do we do?”

He glances at the hoard of people heading away from the gate, “Try and get on a flight that’s open I guess.” He sighs, pulling up his phone and dialing for Jin.

I bite my lip, glancing and seeing that the people were all heading off to do the same thing. Our stress-free flight that was planned to the T was no longer in sight. And now the line of those trying to do the same thing as us, would make it take even longer.

“Hey…” I turn to Jungkook who sits back down in the chair. “They are advising us to find another flight. Something for tomorrow or the next day…” He’s talking to Jin, whose voice I hear on the other end. Much more upset than he was earlier. I try and listen in as I sit next to Jungkook, the nagging feeling that I should go get us a spot in line urging me to bite at the inside of my mouth even more. But the line would be long whether I went now or waited with Jungkook.

“Yeah I know… I’m really sorry Jin.” Jungkook says and then faintly I hear an ‘its not your fault’ and then an ‘room service here is good’ I smile at this, hoping that Jin would make the best of our late comings. “We are going to wait until they cancel it and then I guess see what kind of flights there are. I’ll call you then okay?”

I shake my head. He decided for the both of us. I open my mouth as he finally hangs up the phone but he speaks before I can.

“Listen Eunjae, before you get all gripey with me, I think we should wait because if we go and buy new tickets just to find out that this attendant was wrong and the flight doesn’t get canceled that would fucking suck.” My mouth shuts and Jungkook grins. For now I would listen to him.

Twenty minutes later the sign changed to cancel. Jungkooks defeat, not that it brings me joy. But if anything is going to make me smile in this situation it would be that Jungkook is wrong.

“What if they only have one seat?” I grin at the thought of this. “Can I buy the first flight out?” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Jin might despise you.” He retorts, dragging along one more smaller suitcase than me. I know he was right and stop thinking about the idea. Jin would be furious. Maybe more than Jungkook knew.

Before we had planned the trip Jin had come to me very angry, (as angry as he lets himself get) and very sad that his two best friends hate each other's guts. He had said it made him anxious and he wasn’t sure if either of us would stick around him because of the other.

Which had never crossed my mind. Of course I hate everytime Jin tells me Jungkook would be at an event or would be tagging along with us but I didn’t think that it bothered Jin. To be honest it looked like it stressed him out more than Jungkook and I. Which I understand. It is hard to be the middleman.

No, I never thought about not hanging out with Jin because of Jungkook. Well maybe I was lying. But it was never a permanent thought in my head. Rather it was fleeting in moments that I found out Jungkook would be coming and I didn’t want to go that night anymore. I always told Jin that there were ways to schedule us around eachother, and he’d pretend to listen. Which genuinely upset me, because Jungkook is an asshole. An asshole who I hate, and Jin should listen to how I feel too. But I never tell him that. Instead I agreed to go to Greece with the two of them. Jungkook completely unaware that this is basically a bonding experiment.

“The earliest flight I can put you both on together is tomorrow evening at 5 pm” Which is extremely disappointing. Regardless, we don’t have another choice, so we laid out some money for the flight. Now another decision would have to be made. To stay in the airport and sleep on the floor, waiting hours and hours on end, or to get a hotel just outside of the airport. “With or without you I am getting out of this place.” Jungkook groans, and for once I agree with him and in silence we find our way to the exit. “I called a hotel that’s pretty close.” I say putting the phone down, exhausted as we had just gone through security. “They said we are lucky there are two rooms open so last minute.” Jungkook only grunts in response, hailing a cab for us. I sigh, which is the most either of us lets out the entire car ride to the hotel except to thank and pay the driver.

Neither of us speak when we exit either, heading into the hotel side by side but far apart. Despite the silence so obviously caused by resentment towards each other, I don’t try to fix it. I’ll save my energy for the rest of the trip, while in Seokjin’s presence.

We check in, and pay our own separate ways. A two hundred dollar expense that I wasn’t expecting to pay, but because it’s so last minute the prices for just one night were high.

“Heres your key cards. Hope you enjoy your stay.” The receptionist has a small smile and ushers us along. We aren’t the only people checking in.

I finally break the silence. “I think my room is in the other direction…” I announce and he looks back at me with a curt nod.

“Well if you need anything you have my number.” He says before turning around. “Be safe.” is barely heard as I turn around too. I don’t mutter ‘you too’ back because he’s already walking off.

As I walk off towards my room I let out a deep breath of relief. Glad that the silence wasn’t forced anymore. I seriously don’t know what Jin was thinking. A week trip with just the three of us? It is going to suck, and probably for all of us. Maybe that’s why Jin’s destination is Greece, a place we could try and relax amongst agonizing company. Jin’s trying at least and, since he cares so much I’ll put in my effort. Or at least try to.

I text Jin that we finally got to a hotel and that I would message him before our flight tomorrow. He responds with a smiley and a goodnight. I smile, hoping that he was having a good night too.

By the time I get to my hotel room I am giddy with the idea of jumping in bed. My arm is tired from dragging my suitcase and my back hurts from the airplane seats. Not to mention my aching brain from the practically pointless conversations with Jungkook. Seriously did he not even care to at least make some small talk? He spoke things of such little importance. ‘You look great’ He could have asked some questions about how I was doing or something worth conversation. Or at least make it genuine. However, would it have been worse to hear him speak more?

I pull the card up against the slot, a beep and then a red light blinking. Red is never a good sign. And what do you know the door doesn’t unlock. What a joke. I look down at my stuff debating whether to leave it by the door or take it all the way back to the lobby with me. Then I decide that leaving everything on my person in a foreign country is stupid and I pull the luggage back.

“Hi what can I help you with?” It’s a different attendant this time, and I slide the card to them

“Hi, um I’m in room 128 and my key wont work.”

They nod a few times, taking the key and inserting it somewhere. She types up some things on the computer and then. “Mr Hamira?”

I shake my head. “No it should be under Ha, Ha Eunjae” They seem confused and double check. They shake their head.

“I’m sorry we…” they purse their lips, typing in something else. “I’m sorry one moment.” So I stand there wondering if the earlier receptionist was wrong. There weren't two rooms, and instead had given me a room that someone else was in. Fuck I hope not.

“Well, you’re name is there. I have your receipt here… but someone else already has this booked out as well…” I swallow. Damnit. I nod. “Are you sure?”

They frown and then reach for the phone. “I’ll call the room to see if anyone is in it.” So she dials it up and a moment later an answer. My heart drops. I’ll have to find another room? And if they don’t have one? Then I’d call another hotel. I don’t want to think about what I would do if there aren’t any open hotels for the night. Why’s it so damn busy at this hotel? “Sorry sir for waking you, we just wanted to check…” I open my phone googling a nearby hotel. “Is there any other rooms?”

The receptionist puts the phone down shaking her head. “Not tonight I’m afraid. I’m so sorry, do you remember the name of the person who sold you this room?” I shake my head, not really caring for them to get reprimanded. “I will refund your money right now.” I bite my lip. Damn, what was I going to do?

“Okay.” I mutter dialing the phone to the next closest hotel. They answer but no good news, they were booked out for the rest of the week.

“We have a festival going on nearby that’s why.” She frowns, “I’m sorry…”

I don’t really care, it’s not her fault, but as I call the next hotel and the next and the next all within an hours radius I realize there’s no hope. I could travel the two hours to the next hotel but… I find myself seated in the lobby head pressed against my suitcase. I feel like throwing up, crying and screaming all simultaneously.

Jin crosses my mind and for a moment I think about calling him, but I decide not to bother him. It is my own problem to deal with. Though I can imagine him saying something like “your problems are mine and vice versa.” Blah blah, he cares too much. I frown, thinking about how bad the trip is going to be. I wonder if Jin dreads it as much as me. Does Jungkook dread hanging out with me as much as I do him? He must. After all he thinks that ‘I’m a stuck up cunt’ and many other things I don’t feel like replaying. I frown, how misogynistic and cruel. But I don’t linger on his past words and instead his most recent flutter into my thoughts.

Well if you need anything you have my number.

So because I have no other ideas, I pull open my phone and search him up. There was nothing.

Fuck. Of course not, I never saved his number. I hate his guts. For a moment I hate my own guts. How stupid could I be, not saving his number? Any number of emergencies could have occurred where I might need to contact him.

I cave, realizing who I need to ask, and open our text messages.

‘you’re really asking for his number’

‘yes dont ask i just rlly need it oki???’

‘mhm, why don’t you ask him yourself ;)’

‘jin give me his number’

I roll my eyes, but another text comes and it's a phone number. I stare at it for a moment. Do I text or call? And then I think about doing neither, I could just bear with the two hour drive. I close the message. Honestly getting a cab for two hours would be expensive. But not more expensive than the time I’ll be stuck with Jungkook. Plus I’ll have to sleep on the floor. It would be rude to ask to take the bed… Fuck.

So I call a cab, the line ringing and my head buzzing with regret. How expensive would this ride be? Not to mention I’d have to get another cab back to the airport tomorrow? My teeth tear into the skin in my mouth, this time the taste of iron filling at my tongue.

“What are you doing out here?” I jump at the sound of his voice, turning to see Jungkook standing with his wallet in hand.

I don’t know how to explain but settle with “They sold me a room they don't have.”I stutter thinking how stupid I must look still sitting in the lobby with all my stuff. I was sure to look a mess, almost crying. He looks over to the receptionist who is speaking to someone else. I look at the clock on my phone, still waiting for an answer. It is almost eleven.

“Is there another hotel?” He mutters not even looking back at me.

“No, well. There is one but it’s two hours away.”

His eyes widen as he opens his wallet. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t be joking.” I say, my voice raising. I am not in the mood right now. He doesn’t respond. “I’m trying to call a cab.” I take the phone away from my ear as it goes to voice mail. The message is in a language I don’t know. “Fuck.” I hang up. Putting my phone on my lap.

“Did you already rent a room at the other hotel?” He asks, looking longingly to the vending machines.

My jaw clenches. “No.” I spit at him, “They won’t fucking take my money over the phone, because of this damn.” I choke, “This.. Damn festival.” I sniff, pressing my hands against my cheeks that were now rosy and warm.

“What kind of festival?”

I blink, a tear falling from my eye. “I don’t fucking know.” I almost yell, the receptionist looking over. A few more tears drip down my cheeks. I wipe them hastily away.

Jungkook takes a seat next to me. “I’m sorry… I didn’t ask to piss you off..” he sighs, “I wasn’t thinking.” he presses his lips together looking anywhere but me, “you’re not going anywhere, that’s stupid.” I wipe away more stupid tears as he continues. “It’s just one night you can come to my room…” He sighs, eyes falling to his hands.

“Really?” I sniff.

He glares at me even though I was really asking. “Yeah don’t ask again or your calling that cab.”

My smile is small while I stand with him, awkwardly following him to the vending machines and watching as he glanced over his options. He finally just chose a water bottle and some m and ms.

“Do you want anything?” He asks me, and I shake my head softly. Still a foggy mind from the anxiety attack I narrowly dodged.

He buys another water and hands it to me. We quietly walk back towards his room. The receptionist was staring, probably conjuring what kind of person would pick a stranger to stay in their hotel room. Little does she know, we actually know each other.

As we got to his room and he taps the key on the door, I will myself to speak again. “you didn’t have to…” but I only mumble the words.

He pops a chocolate in his mouth and looks down at me. “What? It’s just water.”

“No…” I frown as he kicks open the door. “letting me stay with you.”

He shrugs as we enter the hotel room. “I said don’t mention it, otherwise you’re back on the street.” Despite sounding serious I can tell that he’s not. I shuffle to the side of the room leaving my suitcase on the side.

“I can sleep on the floor…”

“Ew what? No, that's disgusting.” He shakes his head, and unzips his suitcase. He stands there a moment before pulling out some clothes. I stand there idle as he walks around me, closing himself off into the bathroom.

He is right, that is gross. But I don’t want to take his bed? Would he sleep on the floor? How annoying, I know that if it were the other way around I’d be pissed. I should have just gotten the other hotel. I could have napped on the drive and been fine. Although I wouldn’t want to be alone with some driver for two hours. It would probably be a man, and he might be creepy.

“Eunjae are you okay?” Jungkook has come out in sweats and a tshirt. I stare at him a second, but not for any reason other than he spoke to me.

“Oh, yeah.” I realize I’ve been standing in the same place since I got in the room and so I decide that I’ll follow in his footsteps, taking out a pair of shorts and a tshirt I had packed for pajamas.

He squints at me, walking around back to the other side of the room. “You’re being weird…”

“Sorry.” I mutter going into the bathroom to change. Although I knew I would look tired, when I found myself in the mirror I looked worse than I thought. My eyes are red and puffy from fatigue as well as crying. I roll my eyes at myself. It was a stupid reason to cry. I try not to think about the day that had gone wrong so I distract myself by changing. It is in the past now so it doesn’t really matter. But still, I don’t want to be on another flight tomorrow and I don’t want to be in this room, but I don’t want to be anywhere else either. I just want to be in Greece already. Drinking and sitting on the beach with Jin.

After changing I brush my teeth and wash my face. I am ready to pass out. I come back out to the room and Jungkook is playing some videos on his phone. He is laid out on the left side of the bed, already under the covers. Two pillows separate the two sides of the bed. It is only a queen sized bed, and Jungkook isn’t small so there is only just enough space for me.

“What?” He glares at me. And it bothers me because I’ve done absolutely nothing to him.

“N-nothing.” I say, plugging my phone in and stepping to the bed. Really I never did anything to him the entire time we had known each other. And yet he is such an asshole. I take a seat, but really I don’t want to get in the bed. It’s weird.

I hear Jungkook sigh as I stare at my phone. “We aren’t twelve you know.”

“I am aware Jungkook. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep in the same bed as you.” I shoot, back to my regular self.

He huffs, “For one night only. You’ll never get the chance again.” He winks when I turn staring daggers at him.

I ignore this and pull myself under the covers. If I ever am going to fall asleep tonight in the presence of that demon I will have to start getting comfortable now.

We both fall into a silence. The only sounds being the rain hitting the window, the air conditioner, and the tiktoks he's scrolling through. The light is still on so I don’t close my eyes yet. Instead I think about what Jin had asked of me. He won’t want me to fake it. No fake smiles, or being a bitch back to Jungkook after he’s been an asshole. I will have to genuinely be nice to him. How can I do that when he’s only being an ass to me all time? Be honest with my feelings? Hey Jungkook, that hurt my feelings. Ha, he’ll laugh in my face and then do it again… right?

I have never tried that before… and earlier when I had very obviously almost had a breakdown he actually apologized. I think it was genuine. I think that might have been the first time he had ever seen me cry.

“Jungkook.” I hated myself the moment his name came out of my mouth. Why had I spoken?

He rolls over slightly as he had been facing opposite me. “What?” He sounds annoyed, rightfully so.

I stare at the ceiling. “Why do you hate me?” And after I ask the question I bite my lip because it sounds stupid.

He scoffs, “Who told you I hated you?”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean? At the very least you dislike me highly. When have you ever shown any ounce of kindness to me?” Silence, and that sounds even more dumb because he had by letting me stay in his room “Y-you know what I mean.” I squint, realizing I am being a bitch and failing at even one step of pleasing Jin.

“I only treat you the same way you treat me.” He states blankly, my anger immediately blowing over.

“What?” I push myself up on one arm, Jungkook raising a brow at me. “Are you fucking joking? You’ve only ever been an asshole to me. I never did anything but deal with your shit.”

He blinks. “That’s not true.” My mouth falls open at his unwillingness to admit that he had done something wrong. “I only don’t like you because you don’t like me. No other reason.” He sits up, “You started whatever this is.” He scrunches up his face, “and don’t act like you didn’t because from the very beginning of our relationship, you acted like I didn’t exist…”

He shakes his head, hands clenching tightly against his phone, continuing; “and everytime I came into the room you’d look at me like I was some disgusting animal and then whisper to your friends. Do you know how that makes someone feel? All I ever did was say hi and you were so fake I could feel the bitchiness radiating off you. I didn’t do anything and you treated me like shit.” He looks me over. “You were awful.”

I wish I could have interrupted his stupid speech. He really believes that I am in the wrong? Does he really have no recollection?

“Liar.” I growl. “Don’t act like you dont know.” I sniff, “I only ignored you because you thought you had me figured out from the get go.” My frown becomes prominent and that feeling from earlier returns along with the redness in my cheeks and the water in my eyes. “You had met me one time Jungkook. One fucking time and had the nerve to assume you knew anything about me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He has a stupid look on his face, one that makes me even more angry.

“How can you not remember your great first impression of me Jungkook?” I feel a tear slip down my cheeks but it's more out of anger than sadness. “Eunjae seems like a pretentious cunt, I don’t know why Jin is friends with someone like that-” the tears fall freely now, “a- a whore and…” I clasp a hand over my mouth, stopping a sob. There isn’t really a point in continuing. That should refresh his memory enough. a whore and a gold digging bitch. Only friends with Jin for his money. None of which was true. Well maybe the pretentious part, only sometimes. The tears are dripping onto the sheets of the bed, embarrassing. So I push the covers off of me.

“I-” He shakes his head, shakes and shakes. “I didn’t say that. I never said that.” But I am not listening, I stand up and walk into the bathroom, unable to hear whatever it is he’s saying. I shut the door and sit on the edge of the tub, tearing at the tissue to blow my nose.

I had only told a few of my friends why I hated Jungkook. Only the ones that weren’t mutual with him. Even Jin always wondered. Why would I tell him that the young man he looks so highly of is a total douchebag? It only felt right to keep it to myself, I was sure, no, am sure that Jungkook had relayed that impression of me to all our friends. After all it was my friend who had told me she overheard him telling these things to Taehyung. I had met Taehyung that night and after that I thought I saw a tinge of disdain everytime we spoke. At present it is gone, but did he still sometimes agree? Does he think I am a whore? Do Namjoon or Yoongi think I am a golddigger? I am sure Jungkook thinks those things all of the time. Because he has always been an asshole. Always.

There is a knock at the front door, which I hear Jungkook answer. The door opens and I wondered what it is. It shuts again a moment later. Maybe Jungkook left. After gaining my bearings I rinse off my face and go to open the door. How am I meant to stay here after that?

Jungkook is standing across from the door, “There was a noise complaint.” He spoke quietly, scratching the back of his neck. I don’t respond, only try to walk past him back to the bed. “Eunjae, I never said that.” I close my eyes not really wanting to hear it. “I swear to you, I never said that.”

I pout, looking up at him, barely whispering. “I don’t believe you.”

“I- I really didn’t. I don’t know how to prove to you I didn’t. Why would I? I never have thought those things about you. I really would never say those things.” He stutters a few times and then gets annoyed. “Who told you I said that?”

I clench my teeth, “P-Park Iseul.”

He looks defeated, “I- I don’t even know who that is…”

He can’t defend himself which is enough for me. “You said all those things about me, to Tae…”

“No Jae… listen.” I scoff, “Really gonna try using a nickname on me now? You’re really-”

“Eunjae, I’m sorry.” He’s holding back his annoyance with me, “Why don’t you ask Tae then? Mhm?” He purses his lips, “I have never lied to you. Have I?” And I think for a moment. I can’t recollect a time when he had lied, but I’m sure there had to be at least one. “I didn’t say those things about you. In fact I thought you were really cool. Whoever may have said those things really is an asshole and they're wrong.” He flicks his hands up, “But it wasn’t me.”

“Then- then why have you been so mean to me?” Is all I could manage. At this point I’m not sure whether I believe him or not. This whole time of thinking that he had said those things only to be wrong?

“I told you. You made me feel like I was a parasite. Like I didn’t belong. I’ve been wondering why you’ve hated me for years, and figured that there was just something wrong with me.”

My frown is stuck to my face. I never wanted him to feel that way. No, I did, but only because he made me feel the same way. Because he is evil. But if that isn’t true and he never had been evil in the first place, then it was I who had been the evil one.

“I’m sorry.” I say softly, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling into his face, “I’m sorry too.” However, if he is telling the truth then there is no real reason for him to apologize. I had thought that Jungkook was reigning terror over me the whole time I had known him but it had actually been the other way around. I am the bitch he thinks I am.

“No really.” I wish I had grabbed a few more tissues because my eyes are leaking again, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so mean.” He doesn’t say anything. “I really thought that-”

“It’s okay.” He sighs, leaning against the wall. “If it had been the other way around, I might have done the same thing.” But something tells me he wouldn’t have. Despite despising him, the years and years of being around each other I knew Jungkook fairly well. The only person he acts like this around is me, and it is all my fault.

I fold my hands together, sniffing. “Jungkook I’m so so so sorry. I really am. I wish I could take it all back.”

He pushes himself off of the wall. “Please, it’s fine I promise you. If you apologize again I’m making you sleep on the floor.” He walks around back to the bed. “I wish I could take it back too, but it’s just the past.” He sits down. “And now we know it was a dumb miscommunication.” A miscommunication and an assumption on my part. And now I feel awful. And as if reading my mind he speaks again, “Don’t apologize again, really.”

“But I-” He shoots me a glare that stops me.

“Eunjae, I know you’re sorry. I think I know you well enough to know now that you mean it genuinely.” Which only made me feel worse knowing that I never have truly apologized for any of the mean things I’ve said to him. I wonder how often I made him feel sad. He didn’t really show it, instead he’d shoot some sarcastic thing back at me.

“I want to apologize for everything… anything I’ve ever said-” I continue… and he sighs.

“Well don’t. Just pretend that we were teasing each other. Most of it was teasing anyway.”

But he is wrong, “For you maybe. You teased me. I was just awful. I can’t imagine how you felt. I-”

“Yes you can imagine, because you felt the same way about all the things I said to you. So we’ll call it even.” He pulls the covers over himself. “Now let's forget about it and sleep. It's already midnight.” I stand in my place for a moment, before admitting defeat and going back to bed. After pulling the covers up to my shoulders, Jungkook switches off the last light, the whole room going dark as well as silent. The patter of rain on the window lulls me to fatigue but my brain doesn’t want to stop churning. Eventually my thoughts calm themselves and I’m able to fall asleep.

It was an awkward morning. Both of us were quiet as we tiptoed around each other, getting ready to head back to the airport. Showered, and freshened up for another 5 hour flight. We had slept in but still were tired, and my back still ached. There were almost six hours till our flight but checkout was at 11 and it was 10:45. I was hungry the last meal I had was back in Korea, and last night I hadn’t even thought about eating. We would hopefully pick up something on the way.

“Do you want to eat?” Jungkook asks as he gives the attendant his keycard. “I’m starving.”

It was the first thing he had said that morning and it felt weird. Our conversation from last night had ended abruptly. At least to me it had. There was so much left unsaid. I wanted to apologize again, in a moment where we were not in the heat of the moment. A real apology.

“Me too.” I say, and I try to smile. “We could go through the drive through with an uber?”

So that’s what we did. A quick sandwich place where the food was cheap and easy. The driver allowed us to eat in the car as long as we didn’t make a mess. The drive to the airport took longer than expected. There was traffic from the event the attendant spoke of last night, but thankfully the driver played music as Jungkook wasn’t talking much. What was he thinking?

He was probably thinking about how much he hated airport security. At least that was what I was thinking as we made our way through the airport. Conversation was the last thing on my mind while I walked through the metal detectors. By the time we were set free by the employees and back around to our new gate it was 1pm with four hours to kill.

“What do you think Jin is doing right now?” I spoke to him for the first time in what might have been an hour of waiting. Now we are sitting together on a bench, with several other passengers. It's not like we have much else to do. I can at least try to kill the awkward with conversation.

He sighs, “Probably eating a five star lunch with a view of the beach…” He leans back against the chair, stretching his neck, and pushing his hair back. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. His chest rising and falling softly. I look away and think back to Jin.

“I wish…” I pull out my phone, he is probably wondering what we are doing too. I dial his number, looking away from Jungkook.

He answers almost right away. “Hey Jinnie….”

“Hey are you at the airport?” He sounds more cheerful than he was last night. He is just as excited as we are that we’ll finally be in Greece with him.

“Yup, still got a while to wait though.” I say frowning, looking at the clock. “We are just sitting here… waiting. Waiting. Waiting.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry…” He sighs and then mumbles to someone off the phone. “I can't wait to see you… In like eight hours…”

I shake my head… “It’ll be late then, you should sleep.” He shouldn’t wait for us. It’s not like we are alone. We’ll be able to find our way to the hotel with eachothers help. I glance to Jungkook who looks like he could be asleep. His lashes were quite long. Just as long as mine, how unfair. He had such a pretty face.

“No, no it sucks that you guys got stuck and I want to meet you there. Don’t need you getting lost.” And I smile at this. He’s always like this. Caring for others. It sucks even more that he is alone though. Is Jungkook asleep? That same soft rise and fall of his chest. No he isn’t, His thumbs twiddle with the tag on his luggage.

“Alright… Then I’ll see you in eight hours… try and save doing the fun stuff with Jungkook and I. I think I have severe FOMO.” I laugh, picking at my fingers. I was a patient person but god this is a long time to wait.

“Me too.” Jungkook huffs, not opening his eyes “What’s he eating? How’s the food?” He groans, “I wanna be there and not here.”

I relay Jungkook's questions which Jin happily answers. “Oh you will love it. Everything is delicious. I don’t want to stop eating. It's so good.”

I smile, barely holding back my anticipation. “We can’t wait to be there.”

For a moment he’s quiet, “You’ve sounded weird… What happened? Did you guys argue or something?” He sighs, “Why am I even asking of course you argued.”

“What?” I purse my lips together. How’d he figure that out so easily? Am I that easy to read? Did I really say something that made it obvious? I didn’t think so. “What do you mean?”

“You’re being suspicious. What happened?”

I frown. What does he mean? Am I really being suspicious… No. “You’re suspicious… When do we not…” I look at Jungkook who’s still not paying attention. “seriously? When has there ever been a time where we didn’t…” I avoid saying the word fight. I don’t want Jungkook to know that we are talking about him.

“Well I asked you not to.” I can just see him crossing his arms, The way his voice has sped up, of course he's upset. “Man I can't handle this, if you guys are going to hate each other the whole trip. Seriously you can’t suck it up and have a good time? Once? Literally that’s all I’m asking is for this one time…”

I clench my phone tighter, “Jin. To be honest you’re a liar.” I try to speak in a cool tone, still not wanting Jungkook to be paying me any mind. “One time? really? No it’s been the whole time, all the times. Fuck.” I take a deep breath. “What about what I asked of you? Mhm? Yeah you didn’t listen to that.”

“Well I’m older than you so…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway because nothing happened anyways, Well, nothing like usual so you can keep your assumptions to yourself. Bye I’ll see you in Greece.” I hung up the phone.

“So what was it that you asked of him?” I look over to Jungkook who’s staring down at me. I blink, why was he eavesdropping? I am a fool to think he wasn’t paying attention. “You know you’re sitting right next to me and it’s not like Iphone speakers are very quiet. So what was it that you asked of him?” He crosses his arms, an eyebrow raised.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” I lean back in my chair, “it was before we figured out it was a misunderstanding.”

“I still want to know.” He’s acting like a child.

“Really? Why? We’ve already spent all day in silence and I’d rather you not hate me again.”

“We already covered that I never hated you in the first place.”

“Really Jungkook?” I roll my eyes. “Plus you’re the one who wanted to stop talking about it? So why are you asking now?”

He shrugs. “I wanna know.” A short breath comes from my nose while I contemplate what to tell him. It was cruel now in hindsight. But it was genuinely how I felt at the time.

I shake my head , “I asked him to make sure I never saw you again.” I almost laugh cause it sounds so stupid. “Like, literally all the time I used to ask that, but a few months ago I genuinely asked him to stop inviting me if you were going to be there. And that’s when he planned this trip. One last big event before I boycotted you.” He stares at me, “Does that make you feel better?” I grind my teeth. “Not that you probably didn’t feel the same way.”

His eyes fell to the floor, his face softening. “Sorry.”

I squint, looking him over. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who’s being a bitch… again.”

His eyes roll over to me. “No, I’m sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t hang out with your best friend.” He frowns, brows furrowed as he contemplates what to say. “That sucks”

“I’m sure you felt the same way…”

He shakes his head. “Not really. So, I’m sorry.” His eyes haven't left mine, and it’s making me uncomfortable.

“I-If I can’t apologize.” I swallow, sitting back in my seat, avoiding that burning eye contact. “Then neither can you.”

“I don’t think I did last night, so I-” he folds his hands together. “I’m really sorry for e-”

“No. You did apologize, so no more apologizing.” I pull out my headphones, “I forgive you so it’s fine.” And I plug them into my phone, shutting him out.

He blinks, shaking his head and turning away from me. Doing whatever. While I sit here and wait.

“Hey, we are boarding.” I blink, waking to Jungkook shaking my shoulder lightly. I yawn, grateful that I had managed some sleep, but knowing that I’d regret it on the plane ride. Planes are so awfully uncomfortable. We board slowly, waiting in line behind other people. I should have grabbed a coffee before we boarded, because now I feel so groggy. But maybe I would manage to fall back asleep. Four hours would be awfully boring if I didn’t. I guess I did download those movies though.

“Do you want the aisle seat?” He asks as we scoot down the aisle. I shrug as we reach our seats. We couldn’t get an outside seat, so we are stuck in the middle aisle. “It doesn’t really matter to me.” He mutters, reaching up and sticking his bag in the overhead storage.

“You’re taller, and wider.” I smile. “It’s fine I’ll take the middle.” He grins, “Who ever could have thought you could actually be nice to me.”

“I’m just being considerate.” I mutter, pushing my extra stuff into the storage as well.

He squeezes past me, “Well so am I.” He takes the seat over, some guy already in the other seat. I squint, wondering if he’s being considerate or petty just to keep me from being nice. Or am I being petty too?

I take my seat anyways, turning my phone onto airplane mode as the attendants go through the safety briefings. “But are you going to have to go to the bathroom?”

He shakes his head, pulling his hoodie over his head. “Nope, I’ve got a strong bladder.”

I take the hoodie as a sign he no longer wants to talk so I plug in my headphones and press on the horror movie I downloaded and brace myself for takeoff.

Halfway through the flight I notice that Jungkook was asleep. It had taken him a little while, likely because of the uncomfortable seat. Or the random stranger that is sitting next to him and their loud chewing. Or that he is in a hoodie and it is really hot.

Earlier in the flight I could tell he wanted to take it off, but for the sake of not bothering other people he left it on. For a while he watched an anime, but now he is sleeping.

His hair is in his face, his breath hitting one strand that flutteres over his lips. I feel like waking him up as he is about to be leaning on the random stranger, but that feels wrong. He is really peaceful when he sleeps. Those same pretty lashes resting over his cheeks.

The strings of a sharp violin jump up in my ear, making me jump and look back to my screen. I take a deep breath. What am I doing? I pause the movie. Maybe I can try and sleep too. I close my eyes, tucking my phone into my pocket. Ignoring whatever that was.

“Sorry, excuse me.” I open my eyes, Jungkook standing and attempting to squeeze between me and the chair. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, his tattooed arm reaching over my head. I furrow my brows, trying to press myself against the chair and out of his way.

He had taken off his hoodie now, a tight button up shirt that fit around his muscles very nicely. Why would he wear that under a hoodie?

“You look very beautiful.” My eyes scrunch up as I glare at him. Is he being sarcastic? What a weird comment to make? “No really. I mean it.”

I blush, why’s he saying this? On the airplane? While he’s hovering over all sexy like? What the fuck?

“Can I kiss you?” I stare at him, hands clenching the sides of my seat. What does he mean? I look over to the stranger who is surely as uncomfortable as me, but he is gone, as are all of the other passengers. It is just me and Jungkook.

I flinch upon his hand at my cheek. “I asked you a question…” he smirks, my heart skipping a beat.

I shake my head. “No, Jungkook? What the fuck?” I push him off.

“What the fuck? What’s that for?” I blink, seeing Jungkook still over me, back in his hoodie, the stranger sitting next to us staring. I look around, a couple of eyes staring at me. “I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”

I try to collect myself, was it a dream? I look up, catching Jungkook’s glare. “I’m sorry I-” He scoots out of the aisle. “I had a- a bad dream.” He looks at me in confusion before turning his head and heading down towards the bathroom. I sigh checking the time. So I managed to fall asleep… There is about thirty minutes of the flight left. What a relief. I pull the movie back out and decide the time will go by faster that way. Jungkook returns in no time, scooting back to his seat.

“So what kinda bad dream was it?” I turn my head to him, “You were pushing me pretty violently. Something traumatic happen to you that I should know about?”

I laugh light heartedly to hide my anxiety. To be honest or not? “Uh…”

Jungkook turns his eyes to slits, staring intently with a horrid grin. “You said my name. Ring any bells?”

I blink, “I- well. You tried to kiss me.” He laughs at this.

“Really? And it was that bad?” He crosses his arms. “I mean damn you really shoved me into the chair of the person in front of you. It was that bad?” He teases.

My mouth falls open, void of speech for a moment. “It’s awkward… It was weird.” I cover my face. “Wouldn’t it be weird if you had a dream where I tried to kiss you?”

He ponders this for a moment, “You know… I think I’d let you.” He smirks, “Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?” I lean over, trying to maintain my whisper voice, I had already drawn too much attention to myself. “Thats-”

He shrugs, “It’s not like it’s real. No big deal.” He looks at me, expecting an answer.

I fall back into my chair, “Well it felt pretty real so-” I fiddle with my shirt. “It’s not like you would know if it was real or not in the dream.”

“I guess you’re right.” He glances at his phone, the clock ticking oh so slow. He doesn’t say anything more. Leaving me wondering. Would he still let me? Why was that even a question in my mind? I press play on my movie, hoping for it to distract me.

The plane lands and it’s extremely dark outside, the city lights blinking around us. Now that we finally landed I was feeling giddy, excited not only to be there but also to see Jin.

The airport this time around was a lot harder to get around. Our baggage claim took twenty minutes in itself, poor Jin texting me from outside. But we were on our way out, needing to stretch and get some fresh uncirculated air.

“Hey!” I look up seeing Jin waiting for us with an Uber. “Welcome to Athens!” He stretches out his arms, me rushing to be the first to greet him.

“Jinniaahh.” I embrace him, missing his bear hugs. I reluctantly let go, giving Jungkook his turn as well.

“How was the flight here? Not considering the fact that it wasn’t the original one you were meant to take.”

Jungkook beats me to an answer, “It was good aside from the fact that Eunjae tried to claim I assaulted her.”

“No I-”

“It was embarrassing, everyone was staring.” He giggles, looking at me with a smile, and it isn’t meant to be conniving. He is only teasing.

I try to loosen up, not expecting him to be teasing so light-heartedly. He isn’t trying to be mean this time. Would I have to remind myself of that everytime he speaks? I smile, “Yeah it was embarrassing for me to.” I elbow him. “Everyone really was staring.” I pout at Jin, “I felt really bad.”

“Did you now?” Jungkook’s lips curl to one side. “Can we get coffee?”

“Coffee?” I look at the clock, “Are you crazy? It’s almost two in the morning.”

Jin looks at both of us, “What’s going on? Is this playful banter? Are you playing a prank on me?”

I look at him, “What’s wrong with playful banter?” I tease Seokjin, “Isn’t it everything you ever wanted?” The uber driver helps us get our luggage into the trunk.

Jin glares at me, holding the door open for me. “I-”

“Everything you ever wanted.” Jungkook winks at him, getting in on the other side.

Jin gets in the front seat, all of us in the car now. “Now I really think you’re faking it…”

I roll my eyes, turning an air conditioning nozzle towards me. “No Jinnie, just teasing you.” He hums and I can tell he’s not fully convinced. Not that I’m all that convinced either.

We get to the airbnb by two thirty, and Jin is ready to pass out. Jungkook and I however are pumped, finally out of the plane and ready to explore Athens, it is a shame that we arrived so late. Here's to hoping that our jet lag won't ruin the day tomorrow.

We pull our luggage into the little house and Jungkook and I are wide eyed. It is really nice, and I am sure it has to have five stars and incredible reviews. It is an open concept, the kitchen, dining, and living room are all connected, stairs at the door leading up to the three bedrooms.

“Thank god we don’t have to share a bed.” Jungkook says, starting up the stairs with a smile. I shake my head pulling in my suitcase behind me. Not only is the inside open, but it is a full fishbowl style, all the windows open towards the city below. We’re up on a hill, trees surrounding the rest of the house for moderate privacy. But the view is beautiful. I wonder what it will look like at sunrise or sunset.

“You guys shared a bed?” Jin asks curiously, opening up the fridge where he pulls out a water, tossing it to me and taking out another for himself.

“Yeah… Was kinda weird. But there was only one room in the hotel we were at. Very very unfortunate.” I huff, “But I guess Jungkook didn’t have to let me stay with him. It was better than being on the street.” I laugh.

“Mhm, is this why you’re being all buddy buddy?” He crosses his arms, taking a sip of his water.

I shrug, opening up my own bottle. “I guess you could say that. I don’t know, we resolved some things.”

“Well that’s a relief…” He sighs, “Why was it that you didn’t like him anyways?”

I look at the ground. “It was dumb really… I’m sorry Jin.”

“No no, It’s fine. I’m just happy you guys can be civil.”

I nod, “Yeah…” Civil. I still feel awful about it. Jungkook really had done nothing after all. He said it himself: We can pretend that we were teasing each other. Had he been teasing me? Playful banter that I returned with malice.

“You good?” I blink, Jin is still standing in the kitchen.

“Yeah… I’m going to try to sleep.” I hike up the stairs, luggage in hand.

“Goodluck,” He says following, and dipping into a far bedroom.

I sigh, I will need that luck. Jet lag, and not to mention the fact that I already slept on the plane. It would probably not be a successful night's sleep. Both doors of the other rooms are closed, nice; Jungkook couldn’t have left me a clue to which room he had taken?

I knock on the door, and wait for anything. No sound so I open the door, peering inside. With a sigh of relief I walk inside. Tugging in the luggage after me. The bed looks so comfortable and suddenly the energy I thought I had was gone.

“I claim this room.” I turn around, Jungkook barging in from behind with his suitcases in tow. I'm speechless as he hops onto the bed.

“I was here first.” I look back out the door, wondering what is so wrong with the other room that he abandoned it.

He raises his brows, looking over from the bed, “Well you didn’t claim it… I did.”

“That’s childish.” I look around, deciding the other room won’t be that bad. “And I’m not so…” I walk out the door so I can take the other room.

“You are childish.” He nags. “Hey, close the door.” To which I ignore him and move on to my room. Which, like I thought, isn’t that much different than the other one. I check the bathroom though, which doesn’t have a shower. I sigh, so that’s why Jungkook must have taken the other one. It’s not like he can stop me from using his, unless he wants me to smell bad. Maybe Jin’s room has a shower too.

I unpack a little into the small chest of drawers in the room, and plug in my phone. I make sure I have everything in order for tomorrow. What is it that we were doing tomorrow anyway?

The first day on our itinerary had been ruined by the unforeseen storm in Georgia, but it’s not like it was strict. We could go to so many different museums or historical sites. Hopefully the other two will be just as interested in those as me. Too bad our other friend Joon didn’t come along. He’d love the art.

Looking at the clock I decide it’s time for bed. I shut out my lights and tuck myself in. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but falling asleep is particularly tricky. What time were we waking up? Should I go ask Jin? No, he might have already fallen asleep. Surely we would sleep in? Jungkook might complain about going straight to the museums instead of something more exciting. What is it that he wants to do again? Surfing, oh yeah. But surely not on our first day after a tiring flight.

I fluff the pillow that is already too hot. My back hurts from the flight and the bed isn’t proving to be as comfortable as I thought it would be. I wonder if the other bed is more comfy. Why’d Jungkook have to go right ahead and take it from me? He’d probably sleep in later than me too. What if Jin’s bathroom didn't have a shower and we both had to use the one in Jungkook’s room? Surely that would be absurd, Three bathrooms and one shower. No way. Not with five star reviews. There should be a shower in my bathroom too. The architect sucks. Brain shut the fuck up. I sigh into the sheets. They smell good. At least I can be sure that they are clean. I bet the floors are clean. If there was only one bed here, we could sleep on the floor and it would be way less disgusting than that of the hotel floor.

My throat is a little dry. I push myself out of the comforter. Is the ac on or Is it my high level of activity that is making me hot? I flip on my bathroom light just to see around me. Where is the thermostat? Downstairs probably. I pick up my phone and switch my flashlight on, waltzing through the hallway and down the stairs. What a house. A chandelier's crystals glimmer from my phone’s light above the stairs. How much would it cost to live in a place like this?

I don’t consider it, it is far above my salary. The kitchen is grand, meant for entertaining, a bar overlooking the living room below. Wow I’d kill to live here, my simple apartment is half the square footage, and not a speck of glamour shines there. Unless you count the prints of someone’s art I bought off of etsy.

I scour the kitchen cabinets, finding lots of plates and dishes for serving. Ah yes, my hands find the cups which shine the reflection of my flashlight. The fridge dispenses ice and cool water which I down quickly. I sm more parched than I thought and I refill the cup a second time. Sipping on the second one I think about the bathroom again. Childish indeed. If I were as childish as he, I would have replied. I don’t see your name on it. But I didn’t… Though it was just playful banter. Did he really see it that way? Was he teasing me all those years? Certainly he did it just to spite me. Either way, it was out of spite of my malice when he had done nothing wrong. He didn’t mean all the little things he said? Was he really just joking? I never was… God I feel awful. Maybe I can hope that he thought I was joking. Which is unlikely.

“Is it hot in here or-” I jump at the sound of his voice, the glass slipping from my hand and onto the floor. It shatters in the dark, pieces glimmering in the light that still shine from my phone.

“Oh my god Jungkook!” I glare at him, yelling in a whisper, hoping that the sound of glass hitting the floor hadn’t woken Jin. What is his reasoning for creeping up on me in the dark? At almost 3:30 in the morning?

“Oh my god Eunjae.” His eyes widen, “You’re bleeding.” I look down to my foot, a piece of glass lodged into the side of the sole.

“Oh my god.” I swallow, it is bleeding. Like a lot. “Oh my god…” I feel sick, blood pooling a little under my foot, I hadn’t even felt it at first, but now I do. “Oh-”

“Don’t freak out.” he says, his voice raised from his own panic. He looks around, flipping the lightswitch and blinding both of us. “Oh my god.” He’s spinning around the room, avoiding stepping on any glass. “Where’s a broom?” He says annoyed that he can’t step any closer.

“Oh my god. Jungkook it’s bleeding all over.” I cry, looking for a towel or something, but I can’t move anyways because little pieces of the cup are scattered over the floor. “Oh fuck.” I look up, avoiding looking at it. How big is the piece? Will it stop bleeding? Will I need stitches? How can this trip get any worse? What if this ruins it? It’s bleeding a lot, the blood sticky under my heel. It hurts so bad, the sharp feeling throbbing as blood seeps out of the wound. “Please help!” I whine and he almost growls at me, searching in an open closet.

“I’m fucking looking.” He runs around to the downstairs bathroom, eventually coming around with a broom and a dustpan. “Pick up your foot.” I shake my head, not wanting to move it. It hurts. He looks at me, annoyed and then more gently. “Please pick up your foot so I don’t accidentally touch it.”

I sit back on a bar stool, my foot coming off the hardwood like a sticker. My stomach churns as blood drips down my toes to the floor. Jungkook sighs, sweeping up the floor around us until no shards are seen glimmering against the lights.

“Oh my god I’m gonna throw up.” I whine, looking anywhere but my foot.

Jungkook frowns, “please don’t it’s just blood,” but I can tell he’s not pleased with the look of it either. He takes some paper towels and tosses them on the floor where I had left a bloody outline of my foot. He hands me a rag that’s slightly dampened from the sink.

“What?” I look at him in horror, “You think that I’m going to touch it?”

Exasperated, he shakes his head, “Do you expect me to? No, no. This is your foot. I’m not touching your foot.” “I- I can’t.” I look down at it, feeling queasy. And I feel hot tears run down my cheeks. “Please…”

His nose scrunches as he looks at it again, “Man you are such a crybaby.”

“Do you want to have the glass lodged in you!” I threaten, wiping away my tears. “This is your fault anyway.”

With a sigh he takes my hand, pulling up my ankle. “Just press the rag here.” He gently sets my hand at the base of my foot, soaking up any blood that was still dripping down. “You don’t have to touch the glass.” He presses my hand slightly, the sharp edge still cutting me. “Just for a second, I’m going to go look for a first aid kit. Or something.” He pushes his hair back taking a quick breath before leaving me in the kitchen.

The glass itself doesn’t seem too long. But without knowing how much of it is in my foot, I can’t gauge if I’ll need stitches or not. It is coming up about an inch from the skin. That is pretty long right? And it’s not coming right out if I move. Fuck. What if I can’t go surfing, or swimming or walking around for long periods of time because of this? I can’t forgive myself for ruining the trip not only for myself but for the other two. I’ll just be a burden.

Jungkook comes back with a smile, “look they actually had stuff!” A wrapping of gauze, medical tape, and some sanitary wipes were in his hands. “I didn’t think they would.”

I feel my heart racing, blood pumping to my foot, bleeding more and more. If it keeps bleeding it would need stitches. That’s how it works, right?

“You aren’t holding it tight enough.” He scoffs, taking the rag from me, and holding my foot more firmly.

“Ow,” I wince, wanting to yank my foot away from him.

“You’re just letting it bleed, dummy.” He frowns looking at it, and then whines, “Why does it have to be me?” He examines the glass, “And before you say anything, yeah I know it’s because I scared you so it’s my fault.”

“Sorry.” I mumble.

“Good you should be, butterfingers.” He reaches down for the glass, making me flinch.

“Are you taking it out?” I cry, making his shoulders drop.

“What else is there to do?” He looks annoyed, I’m one hundred percent getting on his nerves. But it’s not my fault. What if the glass is really deep? And what if the bleeding doesn't stop? “What’s wrong?” He asks and my eyes begin to water.

“There’s a glass in my foot.” I clench my fists. How does he not see what’s wrong?

He huffs, with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m going to take it out. I can tell that you aren’t okay with it and I’m just wondering why.” He tugs on another bar stool, sitting across from me, and setting my foot on his knee. “What would you rather me do?”

“I- I don’t know.” I sniff, wishing I had a tissue. “Just, what if it’s really deep? And it doesn’t stop bleeding and then we have to go to an emergency room and then I’ll need stitches. It’s four in the morning and we’ll have to wake up Jin.” I take a shaky breath. “And then the trip is ruined. Part two.” I grind my teeth together, “I don’t want to ruin the trip…”

Jungkook shuts his eyes, “God all that anxiety is all up inside you.” He nods, patting my ankle. “Yeah that might happen… but either way we have to take out the glass to find out.” Which is nothing but a fact, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried. “It’s gonna be fine, Eunjae. Things like this happen,” He smiles softly, revealing his little mole under his bottom lip. It had been hiding the majority of the trip, underneath a frown. “plus if the trip does get ruined, then you can blame it on me.” I smile through the pain, “yeah, that would make me feel better.”

“Figured.” He turns his attention back to the glass. “Now I’m going to take it out, please don’t freak out. Look away or something.”

I squeeze the counter bracing for the pain, “Don’t like, just rip it out.”

“Relax. I can promise you it’s going to hurt a lot more if you’re tense.” His voice is calming, even though I can tell that he's not exactly at ease himself. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. The glass shifts as his hands take hold. I tense despite him telling me not to. It pulls out fairly quickly and I can feel a gush of blood when it’s out. Jungkook cringes, and presses the rag against it. The sting worsens, and I can feel the throbbing throughout my whole foot.

“Is it out?” I look down seeing the glass in his hand, slick with my blood. He wraps it in paper towels and throws it out. “How big was it?”

“Like a third of an inch in there.” He shrugs, “that wasn’t that bad was it?” He holds tightly to my foot, the blood seeping through the rag. He lifts my foot, giving it some more elevation.

“We’ll see.” I say shakily.

“I’d say it was worse for me, since I had to touch your foot and take the glass out.” He sticks his tongue out, “feet are gross.”

I rest my chin on my hand, trying to not pay any attention to my foot. “Yeah they are.”

“Eunjae, will you relax?” He pokes my shin, “You’re stressing me out.”

“Were you really teasing me the whole time?”

He rolls his head back, “I didn’t want that to be our subject change. Really?” But it’s too late because my mind has been reeling all day. I just want to apologize, even if he doesn’t want me to.

“Because I wasn’t joking. And if you were… that’s so shitty.” I frown, “And you said, we could pretend that we had teased each other the whole time. Were you doing that already?”

He tilts his head, staring at me. “I don’t know, sometimes.”

I pout, “I thought you were just being mean.”

He shrugs, “I mean I wasn’t teasing you to be nice.”

“But you were teasing!” I look at him, and catch his eyes before looking away again. “I wasn’t. I was being mean to be mean.”

“This conversation is just going in circles, you know that right?” His hand rests on my shin, and he squeezes it softly. “You were being mean because you thought I was being mean.”

I scoff, “That wasn’t what I should have done. I should have been nice even though I thought you were bad. I should have always been nice and maybe we could have found out that it was a misunderstanding sooner…”

“Well that’s not what happened and it's too late to change it now-”

“I just feel so awful, Jungkook.” My tears are falling again. “And- and I said some horrible things about you and to you… I am just so sorry.” My hand lifts to cover my mouth. Jungkook lets out a deep sigh, his eyes staring off at nothing. “I thought we weren’t apologizing anymore?”

I speak through the tears, “I’m sorry.”

“Eunjae…” He rolls his eyes. “Come on. You can’t feel bad for the rest of our friendship.” But couldn’t I? “We both did things we shouldn’t have and now it's over. You’ve apologized, like ten times now and I forgive you. So please let’s move on.”

“I can’t stop thinking about how mean I was-”

“Well stop thinking about it because I don’t care.” He doesn’t let me respond and moves back to my foot, uncovering the cloth. I flinch at the fabric sticking to my skin. “Sorry.” he mutters, opening the package to the sanitary wipe. “See the bleeding has already slowed. We’ll just go surfing later in the trip.”

“How do you not care? Because I care so much… and I don’t know how to stop.” I settle my breathing, “I wish I could take it back.”

He breathes in through his nose. “I care. I just don’t care about the things you said because I know that you wish you could take it back. You would never say those things again would you?”

“No”

“That’s all I care about. Right now. That’s what matters.” He wipes the sanitary wipe gently around the cut. “I wish I could take things back too, but I can’t and I know that so all there's left to do is watch what I say now.” Carefully he wipes over the cut itself, and I clench my jaw. “So I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, that wasn’t my intention.”

“I know-”

“Let me finish please…” He says quietly, “I am sorry for calling you butterfingers, and stealing the bedroom with the shower.”

I almost laugh, “Really? You don’t have to apologize for that...” He glares at me, but I can tell he’s trying not to smile. “I’m sorry for returning your comments with snide remarks all this time. I should have known that you took them personally.” His face falls, “No, I did know that, I just didn’t care and I should have. So I’m sorry.” He looks up at me.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong. I shou-”

“Eunjae just let me apologize.” He whines.

I suck it up, nodding. “I forgive you. I-”

“Good good.” He interrupts, tossing the sanitary wipes away. “We both forgive each other and now we are going to be friends?”

“I can’t tell if that's a joke or not.”

He smirks, “I’m being serious.” All his attention goes to wrapping my foot in gauze. It uses up the whole wrap to keep it secure on my foot, he tapes it for the final measure of security, and sits up from his seat. “It’s so late, but I’m not tired at all.” I’m not tired either and it is already 4:30. Time is going by so fast.

“If we don’t sleep we won’t be able to wake up for tomorrow.” I say, watching as Jungkook cleans up the floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t sure if I could trust you not to throw up.” The clean up is over and I get a new glass of water. “Now I can find the thermostat, I was sweating up there.” On the side of the wall by the fridge it waits for him. “Please don’t change.” The voice he uses to read the note is naggy. “It’s so hot though.”

“Just don’t wear a hoodie or sweatpants.” I mutter, helping myself stand.

He looks offended, “What and sleep naked?” He shakes his head, turning off the kitchen light.

“That is not what I said…” I squint. “Why do you have to be wearing such heavy things?” We make a slow trek up the stairs, Jungkook only talking to me who limps up each step.

“Well normally I don’t really sleep with a lot of clothing on but this is not my own bed so.”

“Just wear a shirt then…”

“But hoodies are comfortable.”

I smile, “yes they are.”

“If I could I would wear hoodies all the time.”

“What about your tattoos? They would just be covered up all the time.” We finally get up the stairs, whispering as to not bother Jin.

“Yeah that’s true, I just really think hoodies are comfortable.”

I shake my head, “yeah I get it, but that doesn’t mean you have to burn up the whole night.”

He fake pouts, pulling up his hoodie, “Since we can’t change the temp, I guess you’re right.” He lifts it over his head, his shirt going with it up his abs. I roll my eyes. Did he really just have to flash me? “Anyway, here.” He goes into his room for a moment, coming back with a pillow. “Here’s an extra pillow, put a couple under your foot to keep it elevated.”

I take it from him, “Yeah I know…” My lips purse together, and I glance into my room.

“Try and get some sleep.” He smiles softly.

“Hey Jungkook.” I breathe through my nose, and he hums. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.” My door creaks as I push it open to leave.

“No- what?” He steps away from his room and toward me. Oh boy he’ll never let me live this down.

“It’s humiliating -I” A blush creeps up onto my cheeks out of embarrassment. He gets closer, trying to regain eye contact. “Jungkook.” I look away.

“Eunjae-” his fingers ghost over my chin, a hesitancy not hidden before his fingers clasp at my jaw. I swallow upon eye contact, his eyes scanning over my face. He winks, “Is this what it was like in your dream?” And then pulls away.

“J-” my brows furrow. “Why’d you do that?”

He raises a brow, “What were you going to ask me?”

I shake my head. “No, no you answer me first, Why’d you do that?”

He grins, “To tease you of course. Why else?” I glare at him, turning away. Not before he can grab my shoulder and flip me around. “No, what were you going to ask me?”

I push him away, “No you ruined it. You’ll never know.” His face drops into annoyance. “Goodnight Jungkook.” I smile, limping backwards.

“Eunjae I wanna know.” He whines as he always does, making me roll my eyes. “Please, I'd like to carry you around or something tomorrow… Just tell me.” He makes puppy dog eyes, hands folded together all prayer like.

“No you’ve embarrassed me enough.”

He groans, “I’ll buy your dinner too.”

I sigh, that is a pretty good deal. “I was gonna ask-” My shoulders drop, and I’m not really believing that I am actually saying it outloud. “I was gonna ask if we could hug.” I glare. “There.”

He stares at me for a second. “That’s what you were going to ask me?” He looks almost amused.

“See- I didn’t want to tell you.” I groan, my cheeks still flush. How embarrassing, why did I even say it out loud? “It’s stupid.”

“No really- is that what you were going to ask me?” He softly chuckles, “that’s cute-” I shake my head, turning into my room. “No really Eunjae-” He stops me. “Is that really what you were going to ask?”

“Yes!” I step backwards, my voice raised. “Why do you keep asking that? I just said it didn’t I?” Why does he have to humiliate me further?

He sighs, “Stop doing that thing where you misunderstand me and get mad.” He steps towards me again. “You’re yelling and going to wake Jin up.” I look towards the bedroom Jin was staying in. He is right. God he is right. “Yes we can hug that’s a dumb question.”

I frown, “It’s just- we never have before and-”

“Yeah I know.” He smiles, pulling me into his chest before I can protest. “It’s because you are so repulsed by me.” His voice vibrates into my hair. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

I shake my head, trapped in his arms. “No I- I wasn’t” I look up at him, brows knitted together. “I’m not.” The guilt is brought back up again. I don’t want him to remember that.

His eyes shine between those lashes, a grin plastered on his face. “Good.” his breath brushes over my face. “Cause it really sucked when I thought you did.”

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “It’s okay.” His eyes fall on my lips, is he thinking of actually kissing me or is he joking again? I blink, my eyes dropping to his chin. I could hug him tighter and say goodnight and then it would be over.

But his thumb drags against my cheek, pulling my eyes back up to his. Agonizingly slow, his head tilts to the side, his hair falling over his face. That tattooed hand sits against my back, holding me in his embrace. His heart is beating really fast, but it matches my own. Would he notice that? He takes a long deep breath, pressing his forehead against mine, my heart skipping a beat. Why isn’t he doing anything? Only his eye contact is consistent. I bite my gums, wanting to look away.

“I just want you to know that this time I’m not fucking around.” He whispers, leaning into my lips. His hand snakes around my neck, pulling me closer. His nose squishes against mine, lips soft and warm. The kiss I had missed in my dream. In an exhale he releases me from his tattooed arm. His eyes scan mine for a reaction.

I didn’t know what to say. “Good” is what comes from my mouth. Another dumb thing out of my lips. “I- I meant”

He laughs, “Thanks” he pinches my neck making me shrug away. Jungkook's lips meet my cheek.

“No I meant-” He shuts me up with another kiss, pulling me closer by my waist.

“Better than in your dream?” He smirks, eyeing me up and down.

“I meant that it’s-” Another kiss, his hand at the base of my neck, the other at my waist. He doesn’t let go so quickly this time. He smiles into the kiss. “Jungkook…”

“Okay,” he looks down at me, “go on.”

“I meant that it’s good that you aren’t fucking around.” I sigh, finally getting to breathe as well as speak. “I- why?”

“Why not?”

“I-”

He ruffles my hair, making me blush again. “I told you: I thought you were really cool. Mhmh. I do think that you’re really cool.”

“I didn’t think that was code for you wanting to kiss me.”

“You’re the one who had a dream about it.” he teases, “Now go to sleep, we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The next day:

“God did you guys like fuck last night?” Jin looks disgusted at the two of us. I choke on my orange juice. Looking wildly between the two of them.

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” I say staring deep into my breakfast. Did he have to make it more awkward? I barely even knew what to do next after last night. What was that? Are we going to date? Is it going to be casual? Will it never happen again?

Jin squints, “Well, the tension in the room. I’m used to it with you too. But DAMN, it's never been so sexual.”

Jungkook snickers, swirling around his drink “No. No we did not. Just first base.” He winks and my mouth drops.

“Jungkook!” I throw a piece of toast at him, he really is going to expose us just like that?

He flinches, smiling. “I’m actually not sure what the bases are…”

Jin runs his hand through his hair, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“Good.” I huff, biting into my breakfast. “All you need to know is the directions to the Acropolis.”

Like this? This is a one shot from my A Year of Fics with Han series found

here

Happy Jungkook day everyone !! :P

Greece is on fire click here for more information

y’all pls follow me 😭 i’m posting for joons bday as well and then i’m in a fest rn for bts abyss fest which will be on ao3!!

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 5 years ago

Text

sleeping on the blacktop

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, blood, gore, mentions of death, vomiting, medical terminology (that i know absolutely nothing about !! i am not a doctor or an emt—almost all of my knowledge is from an anatomy class or tv so—don’t come for me pls), my ramblings about fate and free will, i also gave the baby a name (sorry if you don’t like it :( i just hate having y/d/n, ya know? too much work)

word count: 8.5k

synopsis: while harry is away on tour, his wife and baby get into a car accident

author’s note: please, be mindful of the warnings and don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned and sorry for the sort of rushed ending... other than that, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

“You don’t need to do that,” Anne says from behind her, and Y/N flinches, nearly dropping a plate. She got lost in her thoughts, staring out the window in Anne’s kitchen.

“You cooked. It’s the least I can do,” she says. Anne grabs a rag and dries some of the dishes. Gemma is keeping Rhiannon occupied in the next room, and from the peals of laughter, it’s the happiest she’s been in days. Y/N sighs, wiping her pruned hands on a paper towel. If she’s being honest, she’s not doing too well; Rhia has had a hard time adjusting to not having Harry around all the time, causing a varied sleep schedule and more bouts of fussiness in general, and Y/N struggles keeping up.

“How’re you doing?”

Y/N hesitates. She contemplates lying. She doesn’t need one more person worrying for her, and she doesn’t want people to think that she can’t take care of her own child by herself. Harry already worries enough, even though she’s assured him many times that he doesn’t need to be.

She knows that he feels guilty for not being there all the time, but she would never force him to stop touring and doing what he loves, partly because she’s afraid he’ll resent her. Despite him being across an entire ocean, she never feels like he is far; he’s always willing to stop anything when she calls, and he tries his hardest to talk with her twice a day. She always keeps him as involved as possible, sending daily updates and photos.

“It’s tough,” she admits, “but it’s getting better, no need to worry about me.” She offers Anne a weak smile.

“Can’t help it,” she says, pinching her cheeks lightly.

Noticing the dimming sky, the sun sinking below the line of trees in the yard, Y/N sighs.

“We should probably go,” she mutters, slipping into the next room. Despite how tired she is, she can’t help the smile that takes over her face when Rhiannon looks up at her, showing her gums.

“Time to go, bug,” she says, light and lilting. Rhia kicks her legs, making her almost lose her balance. She’s too confident for her own good, like her father; she’s only just started sitting up on her own and thinks she can wiggle around without falling.

“You sure you’re okay to drive, love?” Anne asks from behind her. Y/N rolls her eyes, yet smiles fondly at her protectiveness.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes away.”

Ever since Harry left for tour, Y/N has been staying in their lake cottage to be closer to Anne. It’s only a quick 20 minute drive away, which has been helpful during the days when Y/N needed to catch up on sleep, and Anne is always happy to help. She didn’t like to do that very often, feeling like she was taking advantage of her mother-in-law.

The cottage was a cute little thing, perfect for just the two of them, and Y/N was glad to get out of their shared home; it was too big and empty for just her and Rhia. Harry was always able to liven up any place they were at, but now that he’s gone, it felt hollow and dismal.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room,” Anne tries to convince her one last time. As much as Y/N appreciated her worrying, she didn’t want to impose, and she’s sure that Anne wouldn’t want to listen to a fussy baby, even though she would deny it to the end of her days.

Y/N puts Rhia in her coat with little resistance, which is surprising, but she only had a short little nap that afternoon, and they had a busy day.

“I know, Anne, but I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N says. “Besides, Rhia sleeps better in our bed, and you need all the sleep you can get, don’t ya?” She tickles her daughter’s little bloated belly, making her giggle sweetly. Once she’s strapped in, the baby stretches and tries to put Y/N’s fingers in her mouth.

“You know I worry about you,” Anne sighs, kneeling next to Y/N.

“No need to worry,” Y/N smiles. Anne tucks the woven green blanket under Rhiannon’s legs. It’s the same blanket Harry had when he was a baby, barely held together with a few threads and love. Y/N stands, hoisting the carrier up to her hip.

“Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“Course,” she says, pressing a kiss to Anne’s cheek.

When they’re settled in the car, Anne stays out on the porch, watching them until they’re safely on the road, offering a wide smile and an air kiss. Y/N is so thankful to have her shoulder to lean on.

It’s a clear night, which Y/N is thankful for, no fog or rain, which isn’t an often occurrence. She stops at a sign, brakes squealing slightly. She stays there for a second, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion behind her eyes. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Da, da,” Rhiannon mumbles. Y/N reaches behind her, barely able to reach her on the opposite side of the back seat, and she grabs onto her fingers.

“I know, peach,” Y/N sighs, “Miss daddy, too.”

She never considered how fragile life could be until she met Harry, not in the sense that death is an imminent and constant force, more in the sense that everything, her goals, her view on life, and her priorities, shifted when she met him. He became her influence, and she was willing to go through hell or high water just to be with him.

In summation, it takes all but five seconds for your life to completely change, for better or for worse.

There are dozens upon dozens of tiny events that build up and push you toward that one big moment that will change your life. Nothing is set in stone; different choices lead you down different paths, and your paths are constantly changing, either for better or worse, and slowly but surely, you’ll finally reach the top of that mountain. Every choice you questioned, every sacrifice you made, will come together in due time, just know that you’re working toward a greater purpose.

Y/N has never been a big believer in fate, that everything is beyond your control and that everything is already set in stone, but perhaps there is some truth to it. Fate could have pushed her to leave home when she was young. Fate could have put her on a safe and stable path when she went to university that landed her a good job when she was fresh out of her internship, and fate could have brought Harry into her life.

But she will never claim fate as a sole guide to her life. Fate is not responsible for her success nor her mistakes; that was all because of her hard work and integrity, her youth and ignorance. To her, fate is simply an excuse. People want to put blame on something, and when things seem out of their control or when they make bad decisions, they don’t feel quite as guilty. They’re willing to take credit for good things that happen but won’t when it affects them negatively.

Say, perhaps, that fate brought Y/N to that intersection, then maybe it was fate that planted the trees that obscured her vision; perhaps, it was fate that made the lights in the post go out that evening.

If so, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

If not, why wouldn’t fate give her any time to react before the impact?

How could fate be so cruel?

—

Working as an EMT, there are always certain risks you accept when you are on the clock; not only are you surrounded by an unbelievable pressure, there is always the ominous cloud looming overhead, a thin thread between life and death threatening to break at any moment, and it’s your job to keep them stable until they arrive at the hospital.

Not too hard, right?

Being able to save people from the brink of death and reuniting families makes almost everything worth it, but there are always scenes that stick with you for the rest of your life, and for Leslie Greene, this is one of them.

What stands out the most is the sound of a crying baby.

She’s seen some very horrific accidents: cars that have been reduced to nothing more than a ball of cheap scrap metal, with blood coating the shattered glass, to DOA’s, where the impact made them look unrecognizable. She has seen a lot of unspeakable things and had a lot of good people die on her watch.

But never has she ever had a baby present at any accident scene. That’s new.

Those cries will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I didn’ see ‘em,” the man slurs from the police car. He has a bloodied lip and a slight bruise forming around his neck from the seat belt. The stench of rum rolls off him with every breath. He sits back, eyes dull and hooded, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

Another EMT meets with her half-way to the other vehicle, lodged against the ditch across the way.

“Driver side sustained some serious damage. The baby has no discernible injuries, but another ambulance is a minute out to take her.”

From the driver’s side, Leslie can see the baby on the opposite side of the backseat, the car seat still tightly in place. The baby flails about, legs and arms kicking with strength. The car is twisted and mangled, but most of the damage is on the driver’s side, the door latched closed. Shattered glass cracks beneath her boot.

When they’re finally able to get the car door open, the woman, barely even mobile, opens her eyes slightly, but she flinches back at the bright lights. Blood drips down from her hairline, bruises already forming on her eyes from the impact on the steering wheel. Blood pools on the leather seat as she shifts with discomfort.

James, a newbie who has never been to a scene with this much damage, breathes out shakily. Leslie turns to see his lips curling, close to dry heaving.

“Go get the baby, yeah?”

He nods quickly, pale in the face, and scurries to the other side. The baby is soothed only momentarily before her wails continue. The woman’s eyes snap open fully this time, panic clear on her features. She tugs fruitlessly on the seat belt, a pained groan leaving her when she moves too quickly.

“Please, don’t move. My name is Leslie. I’m here to help.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the woman’s racing heart. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she grits out, her eyes fluttering dangerously. From how she reacted to the lights, she probably has a concussion. Leslie cuts the seat belt, and glass falls onto the blacktop, clinking musically until they settle, like they’re sleeping. Through the gloves, she can feel how warm she is, sweat beading down from her forehead. Glass has settled in the divots of her wool sweater, but not before cutting her skin, caking the pearl necklace peeking from the neckline in blood.

“Y/N, I need you to turn a bit. I need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Leslie says softly, inching her slowly onto her side. She sighs as more blood pools, gushing down her back and soaking her jumper further. It’s from a rib that broke through the skin. She can only hope that they didn’t puncture an organ.

“Does that hurt?” She asks as she puts pressure on the skin.

“No,” Y/N whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. When they get her on the stretcher, with minimal blood loss, she stirs with life again, her trembling hand reaching onto the sleeve of Leslie’s shirt, painting it red.

“Rhiannon—my baby girl—is she…” She swallows back tears.

“She’s fine.” Leslie knows that it’s unwise to lie to a patient; perhaps, she’s not entirely lying, but it’s never a good idea to give a victim a sure diagnosis without actually knowing anything. There may have been no physical signs of trauma to the baby, but internal problems are a very real possibility that they won’t know of until they get to the hospital.

She knows that she shouldn’t lie. It takes seven minutes to get to the nearest hospital, but it’s time that Y/N may not have; despite how quickly they were able to get her into the ambulance, she’s losing a lot of blood.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighs in relief, clutching onto her hand. Her wedding ring nearly cuts through the gloves from the pressure.

“Of course,” Leslie says, easily putting her on an IV.

“My husband,” she gasps suddenly, her arm jerking about. “Harry—he—he’s gonna be worried. ‘M supposed to call. He has to tell her goodnight—“

“Y/N, relax,” Leslie coos. “We will contact your husband. You need to focus on yourself, yeah? Don’t close your eyes, Y/N.”

Leslie can see the fear in her eyes; it’s something she’s grown very familiar with, but it’s not just fear for her own survival. She can see how scared she is for her family. She struggles to keep her eyes open, resilience and weakness fighting for power. Like any mother, she’s fighting for her family. She’s fighting to be able to hold onto and kiss them one more time.

She is trying so hard to fight for her family.

But at the same time, it’s so easy to give in.

“If I don’t make it,” she slurs, breathing quickly out of her nose. The blood from her nose slips down into her mouth, making her cough.

“Don’t say—”

“If I don’t, I need you to tell Harry that I love him, and that…” She lets out a pained whimper, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault, love.”

Her lip quivers, teeth chattering.

“I’m just sorry for everything.”

Leslie knows exactly what that means. She’s making amends, apologizing for not being able to fight. A lone tear slips from her eye, but Leslie wipes it away.

“I will.” She promises, gripping her hand tighter.

Only two more minutes.

Y/N gives her a thankful nod, and as if she has finally made peace with the world, she falls limp, the light leaving her eyes.

—

Harry has always enjoyed New York, and it’s not very often that he is able to stay for longer than one night. There is just something about it that’s completely different from London or L.A. that he likes about it; He couldn’t imagine actually living there, with the massive crowds and fluctuating weather, but it’s a nice place to visit, very different from what he’s used to.

He’s halfway through the tour for his most recent album, and New York is the last stop before he gets a short break to go home. He has a show tonight at Madison Square, a radio interview in the morning, and then, he’s home free. He’s been looking forward to this break before the tour even began. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing and meeting fans and traveling the world, but now that he has a family, it gets more and more difficult not being there for the people who need him most.

“So, I heard,” the interviewer begins, smiling widely.

Sadly, Harry has already forgotten his name. The interview was supposed to be a short little thing for social media, only supposed to take 20 minutes, so he could prepare for the concert that evening, but it’s been nearly an hour, and there are no signs of stopping any time soon. Harry holds off yet another yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before washing over him. He’s having trouble focusing.

“You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Yes,” Harry beams. Even though he wants to keep his baby out of the limelight, he can’t help the excitement that fills his chest whenever she's mentioned. He can easily go on and on about how wonderful and sweet and perfect she is. He tugs on his pearl necklace, biting on his lips to keep quiet. He and Y/N agreed that it would be best for Rhia to grow up as normally as possible, which meant only posting about her on his private social media and avoiding busy places so as to not be seen, but some things were simply unavoidable, like interviewers trying to get him to let something about her slip to get their five-minutes-of-fame. It seems rude of him to completely ignore their questions, so he just sticks to very short, vague answers.

“How are you adjusting to fatherhood?”

“Uh,” he laughs, fiddling with his wedding ring. “It was a struggle to begin with. I will admit that, but it’s getting better. We’re still learning how to adjust to everything.”

He says it like he’s actually there, actively helping Y/N, even though he's on the other side of the world. He hasn’t seen his daughter in nearly two months; video chats have absolutely nothing on the real thing. He isn’t helping Y/N put Rhia to sleep when she’s feeling particularly fussy or feeding her at two in the morning, so Y/N can finally get some well-deserved sleep, and he’s not there to play with her or comfort her.

It feels like he’s lying.

He’s a sad excuse of a father. That’s what he really is.

The thought makes the smile fall from his face, but he’s quick to force another one; if there’s anything that he’s learned after years in the public eye, it’s how to fake emotions. The interviewer gives him an understanding smile. He’s older, but not too old, only having a few years on Harry, age wise, but the wrinkles beside his eyes and the nicked ring on his finger suggest years of familial experience.

“I completely understand. I have three boys of my own, and—”

“I am so sorry,” Jeff, Harry’s savior, says suddenly from behind the camera. “D’ya mind if I borrow Harry for a second?”

The interviewer nods.

“No problem. Take 15?”

Harry feels a twinge of guilt as he stands quickly from the chair, happy to finally have a break.

“Thanks,” Harry sighs, brushing past Jeff to the refreshment table. “‘M exhausted. Maybe it’s ‘cause of Rhi, but every little thing wakes me up. Swore I heard her cryin’ last night.” Jeff is quiet, fiddling with his hands nervously. Harry doesn’t notice how quiet the man has gotten, and he opens a bottle of water, rifling through his bag.

“Isn’t it almost 3? Y/N should be callin’ soon.”

“Harry,” Jeff says again, stronger this time. Harry still doesn’t notice how his voice breaks slightly, wobbly and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Harry drinks nearly half of the water, not sparing a glance up. He fishes for his phone, only to remember that he left it in the car. He sighs and turns. That’s when he finally notices how shaken up Jeff is, pale and nervous.

“What’s up? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs, downing the rest of his water before tossing it in the bin.

“Harry,” Jeff says again, soft and somber, and it makes Harry stop. Dread settles in his stomach, deep and heavy. Jeff has never been one to be the bearer of bad news, and he tended to beat around the bush. “Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff tries to guide Harry over to the cheap stool in the corner of the room, but he rips his arm from his grasp.

Harry has never been one to let his mind run wild; he’s the calm one, who looks at reason and logic. He's the one to tell everyone that everything’s going to be fine; he’s the one who takes everything in stride, like water rolling down his back. Bumps in the road are nothing. He’s the one that comes up with solutions and executes them with ease, but with the way Jeff is treating him, his heart races.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jeff says slowly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

It takes a second for Harry to process his words, but when he does, he stumbles back.

His mind automatically tries to reason with itself, that maybe it has nothing to do with him. Perhaps, something went wrong at the venue, and they would have to postpone, lengthening his stay for only a couple more days. Maybe, Mitch got food poisoning and will be unable to play that evening. There are dozens of reasonable explanations as to why Jeff pulled him aside, but Harry knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t have such a mournful look in his eyes, if it isn’t anything less than very serious.

Okay, fine, there was an accident. That could mean so many different things. An accident doesn’t even necessarily mean that they are in grave danger; they could be walking away unscathed.

“W-what? I-i-is it Gem? Mum?” Endless scenarios flicker in his mind, each one worse than the last. The one thing that he doesn’t even consider is it being Y/N or Rhiannon. His mind refuses to go down that road; if it did, there’s no way of knowing how he would react. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of them being in trouble. He hates how long Jeff is taking to tell him, as if holding off will soften the blow. Irritation starts bubbling below the surface, and he finds it hard to keep calm.

“Harry,” he says, shaking his head. “Anne called me. There was a drunk driver, and they’re headed to the hospital now—”

“They?”

His heart stops for a second, and it feels like his chest collapses in on itself. His body feels like it’s reacting to a stressful situation, with adrenaline and fear and anger, but Harry isn’t thinking with a grieving mind; it’s cloudy and slow, delusional, even. He shakes his head.

“No,” Harry mutters, taking a step forward. He can feel tears burn in his eyes, and he makes no move to wipe them. “It wasn’t…” Harry can’t finish the question. It makes him nauseous. Jeff nods solemnly, which, in any other circumstance, would have been answer enough. “Say it,” Harry snaps.

It’s unreal, like a dream. This didn’t happen to him, not his family.

They’re safe. There’s just been a mistake. That’s the only reasonable explanation to everything. Someone made a mistake. Maybe a fan thought it would be funny to pretend to be his mum, and they somehow got Jeff’s number. It had to be a horrible, awful, repulsive joke to get some attention or something; as implausible as that seems, it’s the only thought that makes sense to him because he can’t possibly understand the weight of the truth. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

His girls are fine.

They have to be.

“Harry—” Jeff tries to calm him down, seeing a bright red flush to his skin, frustration seeping through every pore. Anger isn’t becoming of Harry; Jeff has only seen him angry a couple of times, but never to this extent: red in the face, words shaky, eyes glassy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“It was Y/N and Rhiannon.”

That is the absolute last thing that he wanted to hear.

Even though, deep down, he knew that they were in trouble. From the first moment Jeff said his name to how sickly he looked when he told him to sit down, Harry knew, deep in his heart and mind, that his family is in trouble. He just wasn’t willing to accept it or even think about it, as if that could change reality. Until Jeff said those five words that confirmed his worst nightmare.

And he feels his world come crashing down, but he’s stuck, frozen, mind not moving nearly as fast as it should be.

“My—my…” He stutters, throat closing. “My girls?” The ache in his chest increases tenfold, and he holds onto his, feeling the racing of his heart and his quick breathing. “You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs, rage building. He shakes his head with denial. “What kind of fuckin’ prick—”

“I wouldn’t joke about—”

Harry knows that. Y/N and Jeff are close. Hell, they even considered making him their daughter’s godfather. Jeff would never joke about something this serious, and Harry knows that, but he isn’t willing to accept the reality because the reality is nearly too much for him to comprehend, to carry on his already weak shoulders.

“No, they’re not,” Harry closes his eyes, hands slipping through his hair like it normally does when he’s anxious. He tugs on it, but the pain is nothing compared to the sick feeling in his stomach or the crack in his pounding heart. He honestly feels like he’s going to be ill or pass out, feeling his mouth dry up, his hands clamming up, and he begins to feel light-headed.

“Y/N’s just about to call me. It’s Rhi’s bedtime.” He rambles, not listening to Jeff.

They can’t be going to a hospital. He talked to Y/N just this morning when he couldn’t fall asleep. He spoke about his worries and doubts and guilt that he felt for being so far away from them, and Y/N soothed all of his fears and reservations, reminding him why he does what he does. Before she left, she told him that she loved him, and he could hear Rhi babbling away in the background, content and happy and safe.

“There’s a plane leaving in a half an hour—”

“And I sing to her. That's the only way she’ll sleep through the night. She hasn’t been sleepin’ very well these past few days,” he says, lost in his thoughts. His words begin to slur.

“Harry, listen to me,” Jeff says, holding onto his shoulders, trying to keep him grounded, from falling apart. Harry doesn’t get anxious often, but when he does, everything comes to a startling halt; he’s not used to it, and he lets it overwhelm him until he can’t function. That’s the last thing anyone needs.

“No, no, they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re—” He swallows, and like a wave, realization dawns on him, drowning him. His family is in the hospital, and he’s not there with them. “Oh, god,” he cries, feeling bile burn his throat. He sinks to his knees, hand pitifully covering his mouth to keep from vomiting. His vision darkens. It feels like the walls are crumbling down, and he’s stuck, frozen and alone, with no one coming to save him.

Just like his girls.

“Harry, you can’t shut down, not now,” Jeff says, kneeling beside him. “They need you.”

He knows that. He needs to be strong for the both of them, so he wipes away his tears, clenches his jaw, and pushes everything down, even if it feels like he’s choking. He has to be strong for the both of them.

The drive to the airport is a blur. He swallows back his tears until his head feels like it’s going to burst and holds his breath until he can see black spots in his vision, but most of all, he’s numb. A small part of him is still trying to convince himself that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but the larger part, the part that’s screaming the loudest, tells him he’s being irrational and selfish.

It takes 7 hours to get home; he has to travel across an entire ocean to get to his family.

How unfair is that?

He wants to blame the world, God, fate. He wants to curse whatever force existed, but behind all of the hate and accusations and judgement, he is nothing more than a guilty, broken shell of a man.

He’s angry with himself, mostly, with the choices he’s made, with how selfish and greedy he was, and how inconsiderate his actions have been for the past few months. He can’t believe that he could be so self-centered, taking Y/N for granted. She’s his wife; they’re supposed to be partners, equals, and he treated her like she was disposable while he traveled the world, living out a dying dream.

He wishes he was there, to not only prevent it, but also to tell her just one last time how important she was to him and tell her of the pain that would spread in his chest at the possibility of losing her or their child; he wants so badly to show his love for her. In four days, they would have been celebrating six years together, and in that time, he has never doubted his love for her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she was meant to be with him until the very end. They were soulmates.

Now that he might lose her and his baby, he feels like his soul is being ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping, painful void.

Jeff sends him a link to Twitter and a message: Harry, take all the time you need.

The post says: Due to a personal emergency, Harry will not be able to make the show at MSG this evening, and all tour dates from this moment forth will be canceled until further notice. Know that he wishes he could be with you all, and please, respect his privacy in these trying times.

He calls his mother shortly after, but she doesn’t answer. When he tries Gem, she picks up after a few rings, shaky and winded. He sighs, trying to quell the tremors in his hands. His lips quiver.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Gemma explains what happened to the best of her ability, that Y/N just left to go back to the cottage after eating dinner And that Anne received a call from the hospital, after he didn’t answer his phone (that part stung to hear).

“Please—” He begins, but his voice teeters and breaks at the end. He can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks. Exhausted and weak, he finally cries. He cries for his wife, his child, and himself. They’re not heart-wrenching sobs, where he’s keeled over, grief and anxiety spilling out of every pore, but they leave him breathless, chest aching.

“Please, tell me everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Her silence is answer enough. She can’t promise him anything. It’s too early to tell, and she’s not going to lie to him, either, not when his wife and child’s life is in the balance.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Gemma admits, “but I will call you as soon—”

He hangs up before she can finish.

—

Rain thunders onto the broken concrete, a flash of lightning brightening the dull sky. Despite the rain, the earth nearly brimming with life, the hospital is dead. There’s not a soul going in or out. The lights flicker eerily in the corner of his eye. It’s four in the morning, so it’s not much of a surprise, but the sight of it being so lifeless just feels wrong.

His mind is moving quicker than the world can keep up with, it seems, and he feels like it goes against the laws of nature. It’s a strange feeling when you feel like you’re falling apart, but the world continues on; most people on the street wouldn’t bat an eye or even pay any notice to him as he’s deteriorating before their very eyes.

As irrational as it is, it feels wrong. It feels wrong that everyone else is able to go on while his life is crumbling.

He called Gemma when he landed, and there were still no updates on their condition. He broke dozens of traffic laws to get there, and now, he stands outside the entrance, still wearing his wool jumper from the day before, smelling like an airport, with rain soaking his hair. Droplets slip down his cheek and jaw, livening the dried tears from earlier, and they seep into his mouth; he can taste the salt.

He’s just staring at the flickering sign.

He can’t move.

Well, that’s not really it; he can move, he can feel, and he can see, but he doesn’t want to move.

How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t want to go inside. Despite all of his fears, and his longing for answers, and his need to see his family, he can’t move.

Because that would make everything real.

If he goes inside, if he pushes past those doors and sees the doctors, he can’t deny it anymore. When he goes inside, he has to face the very real possibility that he could lose his wife and daughter. He isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to handle it.

He’s being selfish. He knows that. He should be running inside, yelling at doctors and nurses to tell him what they’re doing about his family. He should be trying to do something, anything to see his wife and daughter.

But why is it so hard to move his feet?

And why does he still feel so numb?

He breathes in the cold air, burning his tender throat.

When he finally opens those doors, past the point of no return, he’s welcomed by a blinding light and the scent of antiseptic. The inside is just as lifeless, with dull white walls that leaves his head throbbing and dingy carpet that scrapes against his boots. He follows the signs, leading to the waiting room.

A new round of tears fills his eyes when he sees his mother’s familiar figure. He hasn’t wanted to just completely collapse into her arms, crying, in years, but now, he just wants to be in the comfort of her presence, to forget the world.

But he can’t, just like Jeff told him, he needs to stay strong, for them. He can’t shut down. He breathes out deeply, raises his head, and calls out for his mother.

Anne turns around, and when he sees Rhiannon pressed tightly to her chest, safe and sound, he feels more of his strength return, like he can breathe a little easier. He feels his knees weaken, but he keeps moving. He doesn’t feel quite so empty and broken and numb, a small ray of hope filling him for the first time in hours. He cups the back of her little head, thumb caressing the soft baby hairs. They’ve gotten thicker since the last time he saw her.

“She’s fine, Harry, just a little shaken up,” Anne says, smiling slightly.

His happiness is short lived when Gemma stands from behind Anne.

“Y/N’s in surgery right now. All we can do is wait,” she says, her eyes ringed with red, mirroring his own.

“Da,” Rhia says, and he smiles, a single tear running down his cheek. He wipes it and sniffles.

Y/N pretended to be upset when that was Rhi’s first word. She said it only hours before he had to leave. They were in their home, and Y/N was helping him lug his suitcases out of the bedroom when he heard it. It sounded like another babble, but it became clearer until—

“Da,” she squealed, bouncing in her little jumper chair. “Dada.” She hit a little plastic toy ring on the tray

“Y/N,” he called out for her and knelt down in front of his baby. She rushed out of the bedroom.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Say it again, peach, show mummy,” he cooed, and Rhi repeated it, again and again, reaching for her father.

“I carry her around for nine months and feed her out of my tit,” Y/N whined, “and this is the thanks I get?”

They laughed, nevertheless. It was a bittersweet moment, as he looks back on it now. He was so happy that Rhiannon was growing and learning, but she was growing up too fast for his liking. He lifted Rhi up out of the chair and pressed a gentle kiss to her chubby cheek, tears stinging behind his eyes.

“She’s just daddy’s little girl. Aren’t ya, peach?”

She left a slobbery kiss, well, her version of a kiss (which was more tongue than lip) on his nose. He scrunched up his face, and her features pinched together in return, mimicking him.

“See, jus’ a little mini-me you are,” he said, tickling under her chin.

And when she called out to him after saying their final farewells in the airport, it made it even more difficult for him to leave.

Maybe it was a sign that he shouldn’t leave.

He should have listened.

He’s knocked back into the present when his baby girl looks up at him, eyes lit up with innocence, completely unaware of the dire situation they’re in. They’re not in their London home, and Y/N’s not there with him. His lips wobble, nose burning. His chest hurts, whether from unshed tears or from the thought of actually losing the love of his life, he doesn’t know.

He cups his baby girl’s cheek.

Rhia has Y/N’s eyes. He loves her eyes. When she first opened them, as he held her for the first time, bundled tightly in his arms, he cried big, fat tears until they were all dried up. He felt nothing but love for this little human because she was a perfect mixture of him and Y/N. He loves Rhiannon’s eyes, but now, they serve as nothing but a deathly reminder of his wife, who could possibly not survive these next few hours.

She gives him a gummy smile, her little tongue slipping out over her lips. There’s some white peeking through her gums, and his heart aches. He wipes some drool from her chin, and she reaches for him, but he backs away.

His stomach sinks, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His mother looks at him softly, not a shred of disappointment apparent on her face, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own daughter. His throat closes.

How could he be so weak?

Rhia’s smile drips down, but she lays her head back on her Nana’s shoulder. Anne cups the girl’s head, wrapping the thinly woven blanket tighter around her; sadness and pity present in the air.

“‘M gonna check in with the nurse, see how Y/N’s doin’,” he whispers, backing away, and he stumbles down the hallway, following the signs until he sees the nearest nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs. Even though he’s sure the nurse expects him to look nothing less than distraught, he smooths down his clothes and clears his throat, trying to quell the cries building, lips quivering pitifully.

“Do you have any information on Y/N Styles?” His voice is watery and broken.

The nurse looks at him with sad eyes, warm and understanding, like his mother’s. How does everyone else know what he’s feeling besides himself?

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and he simply nods. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset or press her anymore. The heaviness on his chest building, he doesn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just wants to wallow, curl up and cry until he’s finally able to wake up from this nightmare. He hates the feeling like he’s just given up, accepted that Y/N may not come back from this.

He wants to fight, but all of the fight he has left him as soon as Jeff told him the news.

“Thank you,” he whispers, heading back to the waiting room. He sits down silently on the chairs next to Gemma, the worn wood squealing from the sudden weight. Anne paces in front of them, rocking Rhia back and forth, like she has been for the past few hours; call it a nervous tick or a mother’s instinct, but holding Rhiannon calms her.

Gemma glances at him in the corner of her eye, unsure of how to comfort him in such a situation. He can see her

“I can’t hold her, Gem,” he says weakly, and she looks at him, finding his gaze held on the small little bundle in their mother’s arms. She sighs. “What if—” There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He covers his mouth with trembling hands, trying to push back the cries swelling in his chest.

“What if Y/N dies?”

It’s one thing to think about it, but saying it aloud breaks his heart in two.

Y/N has been a constant in his life for six years, and in that time, she became his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his stability, who held his heart so close to her. Then, he thinks about his baby girl, who has had her mother for barely seven months, just to have her ripped away so easily because of some drunk who didn’t know when to quit, and he thinks he’s going to be sick again.

It takes only one mistake to set off a series of irreversible events.

Exhausted, he doesn’t fight the sob that comes out, his shoulders shaking as more and more. He heaves for breath, curling into himself. Gemma wraps an arm around him, and he cries into her shoulder. He feels useless, sinking further into the endless pit in his mind. He’s never considered the possibility of Y/N never being there with him, holding his hand through the fire, and now that possibility is very real; he can’t face it.

When he’s run himself dry, he finally looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks.

“If she dies, I dunno if I could even look at her,” he admits. “To see her eyes...” Gemma just listens. She knows that there’s nothing she could ever say to make the situation any better. She holds her brother’s hands tightly. “I should have been here,” he says, nodding softly.

“Harry, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s that prick’s fault, not yours,” she says angrily. She’s trying to keep calm, for everyone’s sake, but it’s difficult when it feels like her family is being torn apart.

“I would’ve been driving,” Harry insists. “I would be the one in there, not her, and they would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Gemma argues softly. She’s never seen him like this before, but that’s to be expected in the situation they’re in. He’s normally such an optimistic person, and to hear him degrade himself is almost too much to handle.

“If she does make it—”

“When she makes it,” Gem snaps.

“She’s gonna hate me. I know it.”

“She has never blamed you for anything, not when fans gave her shit, not when paps would follow her, and especially not when you had to leave. There are some things that are simply out of our control, and she understands. She understands that you can’t be there all the time. She understands that this is your job, and your job has made you who you are today. She won’t blame you for this either, so don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. It’s true. She does not understand what he’s gone through. She doesn’t know what it feels like, but she knows that the damage is already done. There’s no use in looking back and analyzing everything to see what they could have done differently.

“I should’ve been here.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“Harry?” A shallow, unfamiliar voice speaks from behind him, making everyone raise their heads.

Anxiety spikes in his stomach. He wonders how anyone could have recognized him, since there is absolutely no one else in the hospital, and how insensitive they would have to be to come talk to him while he’s in such a state. Anger bubbles within him, his skin turning hot as he turns to face the woman.

The blood on her uniform makes him pause.

“My name is Leslie. I was one of the first people on the scene.”

“Do you know anything?” She shakes her head sadly.

“But I was with your wife in the ambulance. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and…” She coughs, hesitation clear on her features. “And not to give up.”

She probably doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words because when he stands and tugs her into a hug, she tenses, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. Again, like when he saw his baby girl, hope warms him, blanketing and strengthening him.

It’s like Y/N is speaking to him through her.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering her a weak smile. Just as they part, an older woman rounds the corner. Everyone sits up a little straighter, the air becoming a little tenser, when she gets closer to them.

“She’s resting, now, but she should be up in a few hours,” the doctor smiles.

Harry wants to crumple to the ground as a weight lifts from his chest, and he can finally breathe. He’s run ragged, a broken cry slipping out of his blubbering lips. He tugs Gemma into his arms, who returns the embrace wholeheartedly. Such relief and warmth fills him that he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.

“There was some pretty severe internal bleeding, but we got her stabilized. She also had a couple broken ribs, nothing that time and care won’t heal. After we do some more tests, she should be released in about a week. I can show you to her room, if you’d like?”

“Yes,” Harry cries.

When they reach Y/N’s room, Harry pauses outside and turns to his mother. Her eyes, noticing the confliction in his eyes, are soft and understanding. He never thought about seeing her in such a state until now, but least she’s still with him, his little fighter, just like Rhi.

“Mum, can I, uh…” He nibbles on his lip, holding his arms out.

“Course,” Anne says, moving the baby in his open arms.

“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling. She sleeps contentedly, her features relaxed. His heart twinges as she burrows herself into his chest, and he wraps the blanket a little tighter around her.

“We’ll go to the cottage and get some extra clothes for you all,” Gemma says, knowing that Harry needs this time alone. She tugs her mother, who hesitates but soon follows.

He expected her condition to be poor, but that doesn’t stop the burning in his eyes when he sees her, hooked up to what seems like dozens of machines, her face swollen, and stitches along her hairline; she looks so fragile, so broken, but her heart beat is strong, breathing steady. As if sensing her father’s discomfort, Rhi burrows further in his arms, snuffling lightly.

He settles in a chair next to Y/N’s bed, one hand holding hers while the other arm cradles his baby.

“Gave daddy a scare earlier, peach,” he coos. “Daddy’s sorry that he wasn’t there with ya.”

He promises her many things, that she’s safe, that nothing will ever happen to her, and that her mum is safe, too, but most importantly, he promises to be there for her. He cries silently, careful to keep the tears and painful jolts of his chest from waking Rhi. He just can’t help it. After the dust settles and the smoke is cleared, the gravity of the situation weighs on him: he could have lost the two most important people in his life, and he would not have been there.

A nurse stops by to bring a bassinet for Rhiannon and to check on Y/N, who is doing wonderfully, especially after such an invasive surgery.

Y/N wakes after about an hour, just as the sun peaks beyond the horizon. Harry is still up, of course, watching his girls, finding comfort in the heart monitor. He pushes the bassinet back and forth with his foot.

“H?”

He beams when he hears her voice, gravely and worn, but it’s her voice nonetheless, comforting and warm. He wishes that he could hold her and kiss her until his love heals her wounds, but he has to settle for holding her hand and kissing her forehead for the time being.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, tears slipping past her swollen eyes. “It happened so fast.”

“What are you sorry for, lovie? You did absolutely nothin’ wrong,” he says, brushing back her hair.

“You had to leave because I wasn’t being careful enough, and I—”

His heart aches, eyes glazing over. He hates that he made her feel like his job was more important than her.

“No, none of that,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. Listen, this was not your fault, and as far as tour goes, it’s not nearly as important as you two. I would drop everythin’ if you needed me to. There is nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right? You both are my life, now; I made that promise the day we got married and the day she was born. You both are my number one priority, and I haven’t been treating you like it. For that, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry—”

“It was selfish of me to think that I could live in the past and the present, live the life that I used to while trying to be a father and a husband. It wasn’t fair of me, and I am so, so very sorry, babylove.”

He kisses her, careful of her bruises, and she sinks further into the bed, comforted by his warm words and tender touches. Her eyes, fluttering with exhaustion and filled with tears, refuse to close, as if she’s afraid that he’ll be gone by the time she wakes. He runs his thumb along her cheek, mindful of the swollen areas. For the first time in what feels like years, his mind is calm, basking in the feeling of happiness as he’s finally able to feel and see his family, safe and within his reach. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and as he sees her nodding off, he presses a quick kiss to her knuckles, whispering.

“Rest, lovie, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

She falls asleep with a faint smile.

Perhaps, fate isn’t cruel as many think. Just like anything, it can be merciful and loving for those who are worth mercy and love.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes angst #not my gif #credit to owner

1K notes · View notes

dayseternal-blog · 4 years ago

Note

If you ever finish answering all of yours awaiting asks...

45 questions for you 👀

https://myaekingheart.tumblr.com/post/650107314353897472/fic-writer-ask-game

Lolllll BADLUCKBREBIS, you are so funny.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

It looks like I started writing in 2017. I've been reflecting recently on how there are so many regularly active writers now compared to in 2017-2018. It was the tail-end of some of my fave writer's activity within fandom. Utsus was posting less and less. The Tumblr NaruHina fandom seemed to disappear, a whole community of writers left for other things (matchaball, nekomamoru, magmawrites, cherryjutsu, spyder-m, tenney-shoes, eliphya, among others). 2018 was a very quiet year, but! I avidly read katarinahime and bunnyhoodlum's works! In 2019, quirrrky restarted things with NaruHina Week!

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

Recently I’m primarily a reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because there's so many writers now!!!!!!!!

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

Yeah, let’s list them. “A Special Friend” by agitosgirl inspired “Nightdreams. “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake inspired “White Lilies. “Torch Song” by @mmmbuttery inspired “About You.” The language in “Unless the World Were to End” by @bunny-hoodlum inspired the language in “That was the plan.” “In Between Drinks” by @peppercornpress inspired “In Between Drinks NH.”

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

“Operation: Bring Home Naruto” by Dragonwannabe - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata's been assigned the mission of getting Naruto back home safely after his last dangerous assignment. But can she handle the undercover identity as his girlfriend that she’d been given without revealing her true feelings for him?

“The Mission” by Lunawraythe - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It wasn't that Hinata never expected to work with Naruto, just never on a mission quite like this.

“The Loving Type” by @peppercornpresses - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A few years have passed since the Fourth Shinobi War, in which...Rookie Nine steadily advances in rank. Naruto gets engaged. Hinata leaves Konoha. And Kakashi schemes for days.

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

ahhh. I do have quite a few pet peeves. If the fic is Canon-Compliant or Canon-Divergent, I expect Naruto and Hinata to behave like Japanese people. Say what you want, but the Naruto Universe is definitely Japanese in my book. So that means no shoes in the house. Nothing rattles me more than reading Hinata taking her sandals off before climbing into bed. Like, what? she was wearing her outdoor shoes indoors this whole time??

mmm... another pet peeve is when the writer describes Hinata in a kimono, but it sounds like an American Halloween costume, like the slutty version, instead of an actual kimono.

mmm... and the other big pet peeve I have is when it’s Hinata’s first time eating ramen because Naruto is showing her the wonders of ramen. lol. why. how. in what world would a Japanese person make it to their teenage years without ever eating ramen.

I have a bunch of other little pet peeves regarding Japanese culture in fanfics. But in general, it doesn’t stop me from reading the fic if I'm already in the middle of it. I’ll continue reading it and will probably recommend it to other people anyway. If I can tell based on the summary, then it's not for me, and I don't read it. If this makes anyone feel nervous about writing fanfiction, that's not my intention! I would also be happy to be a sensitivity reader if necessary.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?

I primarily read fanfics on AO3 and ffnet. I find new ones by constantly checking the Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto tag on AO3 or looking into a writer’s favorites list on ffnet.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

Short fics.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

I reblog pretty often. I don't comment as often as I used to😕 I used to comment on every fic I liked.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

Uhh?? Idk. I think recently the writing group here is pretty tight, everyone seems to know everyone.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Naruto fandom and NaruHina.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

I usually take it from words used in the story or from the prompt.

12. Tell the author your favorite fic title of theirs (not the fic, strictly title). Author: what’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

I think...maybe "Tell Me of Forevers" or "Nightdreams." I like those because they aren't taken word-for-word directly from the story, but touch on a theme in the story.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

Yes, I outline. They wouldn't get a headache, I think. It's usually just a summary.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Nope. I didn't know people do that.

15. Tell the author your favorite fic of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite fic continues to be "It's No Secret."

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching?

Yes, I do. I've done historical and folktale research for "Little Samurai." I did area/location research for "Last Chance." I did historical research for "About You." I did fairy tale research for "Catskin." I did a ton of astronomy research for "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl." And I did lighting research for "Inspo." I go pretty deep.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

I don't. I usually have something else I need to do or I go to bed.

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie?

I actually think I can finish all of mine if I just try.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I always edit before posting to AO3. Anything I post directly on Tumblr might not be edited.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Posting!

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Starting a new chapter.

22. Do you take fic requests? If so, for what characters and why?

On occasion. If someone sends me a request, I'll think about writing it. Sometimes I do write and post it, sometimes I leave them in my drafts for a better day.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

From what I already have posted, probably friends-to-lovers, secret relationship/forbidden love, or high school au. I don't think I have an intentional favorite.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

Public humiliation / public degradation.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

No, not usually.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Tumblr feed, all the pictures to scroll through mindlessly.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random?

lol, whatever is fine.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

Well, pressure to update is not a big deal to me. I do this for fun, so I don't think I unnecessarily pressure myself too much. With negative comments, I don't get too many of those, and I think I do my best to avoid situations where I might get negative feedback.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it?

Yeah, I like the events. My favorite was NH2020, the year-long one last year. I also enjoyed the Secret Santa last year since @badluckbrebis was my giftee.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

haha😈

Ecstasy slides through his veins, blooming over his mind, cocooning him in pleasant sensations, cum shooting out in eager twitches against hot, milking flesh.

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Naruto Uzumaki, always.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

Top 3 faves in order:

That was the plan: "She shifts in his arms, and cloth and cleavage come pillowing up to his face, and he’s certain that she’s scooped from the same puffy stuff his adolescent daydreams were made of."

Tell Me of Forevers: "What he wouldn’t do to inspire every blush, every smile of hers for an eternity when such moments already only speak “forever” to him."

White Lilies: "Whether at his feet, in his eyes, ears, mind, if not reaching his heart, she never landed anywhere. (It’s okay.)"

I consider "White Lilies" to have my technically best writing, so it was kind of hard to choose just one line from that fic! But I decided that one's my favorite line from the whole story.

33. What do you like writing better: one shots or multi-chapter stuff?

One-shots.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

A lot of my life experiences are in my writing. Hmm, I think readers probably think I'm...hmm...either empathetic or really perverted?

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

I spend a lot less time on real-life social media than before.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of?

I'm kind of embarrassed of "Honeymoon at the Hot Springs" lol. It's fine.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

My current WIP is that A/B/O fic I started for February Smut Month Prompts: Sweet as Candy or Love Bites. I'm going to title it "Sweet As," and it'll be about how Naruto and Hinata become Alpha/Omega mates. It's really kinky, really smutty, and totally what I would want to read.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

uhh???? a 1?? I've never once thought of my writing process as chaotic. Ahh, then I think of bunnyhoodlum's multiple drafts for the same chapter, and I realize that there exist types of writing processes that I would not be able to handle...

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

My smut.

40. How did you come up with the idea for [x fic]?

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)?

Idk about Tumblr,,, maybe White Lilies got the most attention here. My most popular fic is Nightdreams on AO3.

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related (like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) - have fun!

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

I will always remember how people congratulated me for finishing White Lilies😭 Also, when peppercornpresses made that FIRST art of my story, I just, I just stared at it all day.

44. Rant about something writing related.

hmmm, I don't feel like ranting about anything. I just recently ranted about my pet peeves above.

45. Fic specific questions - if you have any weird questions about specific works, here’s your shot to ask them!

I did them all! Nice questions.

#anon #*anon*#fic writer ask game #i will send these questions right back at you

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shreddedleopard · 4 years ago

Text

Twelve-million more reasons Historia and Levi are part of the Endgame. With Pictures.

You can read the first post I made on this here:

10 reasons it would make narrative sense for Levi and Historia’s character arcs to end together.

(This is the mega-evolved version.)

Okay, I’m going to put this out there now, and before you judge me, please just read the posts. You don’t have to agree. This is just an idea. But it makes a stupid amount of sense, at least to me. So here's your fair warning (and now I'm being bold): If you don’t want to potentially be spoiled, Do Not Read On.

Here’s the Theory:

Historia Reiss will give birth to a half-Ackerman child, and together with Levi, from the ashes and ruins of the world Eren destroyed, they will welcome the dawn of a new age for humanity, where Ymir’s curse and the power of the Titans is extinct.

I know. I sound like some crazy, Rivahisu nut. Granted, I am, but I’m not mad enough to make a claim like this without a shit-ton of evidence, because it’s such a damn twist it feels like it can’t be true. But just humour me.

Here’s the theory, then we’ll look at why it makes sense and how it might have been foreshadowed. Please note: I have less clue how this will tie in to Eremika endgame, so I haven’t mentioned this as much, but obviously that will be the other very important side of this coin.

10 months ago (In Japan, full term pregnancy is counted as 10 months), at the banquet celebrating completion of the new railroad, Levi and Historia, having had 3 and a bit years to bond over their shared experiences and become close, may have gotten carried away together and shared one night of being a bit more than friends. She’s well into her 18th year at this point, just to clear that up. This resulted in Historia getting pregnant. Okay just stay with me; I know. I know. I sound crazy. But hear me out. So this pregnancy, contrary to the belief of the MPs and rest of the damn world, was the complete opposite of planned. Historia tells Levi, and Levi immediately panics. Because, to steal Kenny’s famous line, Levi thinks to himself ‘I can’t be some kid’s dad.’

Levi does what he always does best, and shuts down into business mode, telling Historia she will need to cover it up somehow. Historia does as he asks, probably reluctantly, because she really has developed very deep feelings for him during the timeskip, and finds some farm hand to take the blame, likely saying she made a silly mistake with some random and the father doesn’t want anything to do with the child, and so she needs a father for the child not to be illegitimate. Which is her worst nightmare, because of course, that’s what she was. Levi watches the exchange hidden in that famous hood, feeling very conflicted, because although he cares about her, he thinks it best if no one knows that it was him that got the Queen pregnant, and of course, he’s duty bound, with a vow to fulfil, so he has no time to be worrying about a family. (Silly Levi!)

How ironic this conversation would be if this theory were true. Remember, Historia was completely willing to eat Zeke if needed. Instead, she got pregnant, unplanned, nothing to do with any plot or selfish wishes, just the result of a spontaneous act of love by two people who’ve grown to care for one another a lot. ANYWAY.

Because we know Levi actually has a good heart, he feels immensely guilty for all of this; he's just a product of his upbringing and thinks he doesn’t know the first thing about families, so it's better for all involved if he not be. See where this is going? The old cursed history repeating? Making the same mistakes as our parents? Plus, Levi is bound by his duty. He is incredibly important to the military still, and he cannot just abandon this for any of his own selfish wishes. He’s supposed to be the one to vanquish the beast titan.

Cue ten months of Historia looking hella depressed and hopeless, and Levi being even more of an asshole than usual to everyone, and not really wanting to say too much at all, as well as making some terrible workplace decisions (lol) poor boy be distracted.

Look at his face 😭

Yes Levi. A month. Which means Historia is now due and you’re still stuck with beardy, without a solution and pretty soon no reason for the MPs not to turn the mother of your child into a Titan.

That’s what that face is. I thought he looked a bit weird first time I read these panels 🤔 He didn’t know about the wine. We see that later. Anyway, I keep getting distracted, stop. I’ll come back to this.

But fear not; Levi will have a choice to make.

So this is where it gets a bit more iffy for me, because I'm not sure how it would work, so this could be a way off, BUT. I believe it will come to light that the combination of Royal and Ackerman genes will somehow cancel out a person’s ability to turn into a titan and connection through paths, thus making them truly ‘free.’

The founding titan has the ability to change Eldian physiology, according to what Zeke learned from professor Xavier.

EDIT: Okay so here’s where I’ve had to tweak this a bit in light of there latest chapter. So we just had Zeke in PATHS. With none other than our second resident genius, and as proclaimed by Eren, the saviour of humanity: Armin. What do our boys have a conversation about? Reproduction and the importance of the small moments in life - it’s these little moments which matter, regardless of the desire or need to recreate. Interesting how both the leaf and baseball link back to what their ideas of ‘family’ became. If Historia and Levi were to be in the same scenario in PATHS, what would their items be? What truly means family to them both?

Perhaps Armin and Zeke realise what is needed to lift the curse of the titans - maybe a blueprint for genes which can cancel out the connection to PATHS and the founder? If only they had a child with a new type of Royal-Ackerman DNA which might fit the bill ...

Here’s Levi’s moment. He, with Historia, has created such a child - completely by accident, because of one of those ‘moments’ that both Armin and Zeke mention - moments that are simply just about enjoying what you have with no sense of how it might relate to anything bigger - a real rarity for both of them, considering their roles and constantly being asked to think about the good of humanity as a whole. What a beautiful irony, that in the moment they chose to be selfish and, to use freckled Ymir’s own words, really live for themselves, they set a chain reaction in motion that would ultimately save humanity.

Where does this leave Eren and Mikasa? Good question. I believe Eren will die once the curse is removed, because tragically he is the character that has been forced to choose humanity over his own personal relationships. As Isayama has said before, Eren is a victim of the story. Mikasa will be the last thing he sees, hence the original dream at the start of the manga, where he wakes up crying. Something like this. But probably a lot better. Yeah.

Out of the ashes of the old world, a new one will be built, but through Historia’s kindness and love, and Levi’s guilt and understanding of what was sacrificed in the past, society will not repeat the same mistakes. The final panel could be Jean holding his child, perhaps with Mikasa, if she ever manages to get over losing Eren. That would be vague enough so that Isayama was able to show it to us already without spoiling much. Or maybe Jean’s dead and it’s not him at all. I don’t know. 😭

Right. Okay. So now you’re going, sweet story, but uh, there’s no way Levi could be the father. He’s so much older. Isayama wouldn't write a moment of romance like that. Not with him and Historia. YOU’RE JUST CRAZY.

Well this is where it get’s interesting. LET ME SHOW YOU. It’s foreshadowed literally everywhere. Right under our noses.

There is so much symbolism.

Dedicate your heart to what? has been Levi’s question recently. What are they all fighting for? What is he fighting for? How will he give meaning to his dead comrades sacrifices? Is killing Zeke really the extent of it? Is vengeance the true meaning of their sacrifices? Or is it something a lot more hopeful?

The answer is shown to us in the opening credits. And the ending credits. Several times.

Levi says so himself - he keeps messing fulfilling the vow up - why? Why is he so worried about killing Zeke?

Eren has the same questions to consider. Which PATH is the right one to take - revenge and violence with the rumbling, or love ... with Mikasa. We are literally shown what their choices will be in two virtually identically designed panels, which I’ll show you. Tragically, Eren’s choice is taken from him. He is a victim to the story - he must chose the path that saves humanity. Levi and Eren have been bound together through the theme of choices, and taking the ones which leave you with the least regrets, throughout this entire manga.

The upcoming anime episodes literally plot out the timeline of Levi and Historia’s changing attitude to one another, and then Historia’s pregnancy, it’s just so cleverly subtle. Isayama even tells us when/ during what event her child was probably conceived by just dropping dates in from other, seemingly unrelated plot lines.

Zeke gives pointed comments to Levi constantly - every other line of his is either a different jab at Levi about Historia’s pregnancy, a veiled question, or a reminder that he’s under the pressure of a 10 month time limit to do something about him, or Historia will have to eat him once she’s given birth. We start to see Levi unravel because of this, and make mistakes over and over.

It’s in official art. It’s in the soundtrack. Its in music videos. There’s interviews from Isayama that, when read in light of these ideas, suddenly take on a whole new meaning.

Isayama even trolls us. He’s laughing in our faces, the madman. Like, gotchu 🤣 suckers. While we’re all on Reddit and Twitter like, ‘Levi’s character has become so stagnated! He’s making such poor choices or not giving anything to the plot at all. All that’s left for him now is to give up and die! Be at peace, your story is over.’ OOF. Or, ‘Historia has just been forgotten! She’s become such a pointless character. Isayama just got bored with her and sidelined her.’

I’m going to try and write stuff up in the rough categories below, but these might change. I’ll link them when I’m done, and then pin this post. I’m a bit of a rambler so heads up - this may take a while 😅

There’s also a ton of people I have to mention who have contributed to this - I didn’t spot it by myself. I’ll tag them in the finished post too.

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 1

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 2

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 3

Ackerman-Royal Bloodline and Levi’s Choice Pt. 1

Levi’s Choice Pt. 2

Suns, Moons and Songs

Akatsuki No Requiem - Right theory, Wrong guy

The Farmer and The Cattle Farming Goddess, or WHAT’S IN A NAME.

Mistakes of our parents and breaking the cycle

Memories from the future & Levi’s Guilt

Watch this space. And hold on to your pants. If I’m right, I’m getting very drunk.

#shingeki no kyojin spoilers #shingeki no kyojin manga theory #historia pregnancy #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #historia reiss #rivahisu

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kaitycole · 4 years ago

Text

twenty-four hour heartbreak

Summary: A recount of the last 24 hours of your marriage with a few memories sprinkled in.

Word Count: 2464

Pairing: Daichi x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst. Pure Angst.

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death and Cheating

Song Choice: Walking Blind by Aiden Hawken

You aren’t sure when exactly it happened, when you had decided to be unfaithful to one of the most loyal people in the world. Sure, there had been several small events that led up to you being in bed with one of your husband’s best friends, but for some reason you had always assumed when people chose to cheat there was some big life altering event that occurred. Either you were wrong or a huge event was necessary for everyone.

You had assumed that after the first time, you’d feel repulsive or sick to your stomach when you looked in the mirror but you didn’t. You felt free from the repetitive and dull relationship you found yourself in. It wasn’t until nearly five months into your sordid affair, after waking up to the soft peppered kisses on your bare shoulders, were you asked to finally leave your husband. The thought had crossed your mind, but so did the thought that once you were available your affair would end. That thought hurt you more than the idea of your marriage ending, but it was quickly dissolved when your lover pulled you into his arms reassuring he wasn’t going anywhere.

15 hours ago – 3:41 AM

You’re curled up, your back against your lover’s chest as his lips softly traveled down your neck and across the top of your shoulder. It had been a long day, for the both of you, and the comfort you found in his arms was softly melting away your worries. You felt his arm snake around your waist before whispering in your ear, assuming you were asleep.

“I love you.”

To his surprise, you turn in his arms, faces just inches apart, “I love you too.”

The room’s silence was broken by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Whose calling this late?” He checked the time.

You shrugged as you answered.

“Is this Sawamura-san?”

“May I ask who’s calling?” You sat up, pulling the blanket to cover you as you listened to the voice on the other end.

Your phone dropped from your hand, the word’s ‘hospital’ and ‘accident’ ring through your head as the man behind you picked your phone up.

“Y/N? Who was that? What’s wrong?” He’s on his knees in front of you, placing a comforting hand on your thigh as you looked at the ground.

“There was an accident. Daichi’s in the hospital.”

The man in front of you started to panic, he threw on his clothes that had been previously scattered on the hotel room’s floor. He gathered yours as well, placing them next to you before the shock wore off just enough for you to burst into tears.

“It’s all my fault. This is my fault!” You sobbed as he pulled you into his arms, making shushing noises to calm you down.

“It was an accident, Y/N.” He may have sounded convincing but he wasn’t convinced himself because deep down he knew it was his fault. “It’s Daichi, he’ll be fine.” He has to be, right?

After a few moments, you quickly grabbed some clothes, throwing them on before you both ran outside.

24 hours ago – 6:35 PM

You were sitting on the couch when he walked back into the living room. He had just gotten out of his post-run shower, the same run he goes on every day before work. His gym shorts hung low on his waist as he dried his hair with a towel.

His set-in stone schedule had allowed you to continue your affair without being caught, could you really be the only to blame for this? You’d left your phone unlocked and opened to messages to and from your lover, but his unending trust for you kept him from looking.

Your doting, always faithful, remarkable husband. The man you swore you’d love forever and who swore it back and had remained unwavering after all these years. It should be tearing you apart to do this to him, to tell him about what you’ve done, been doing, but it doesn’t. It almost makes you sick, almost.

He smiled at you and you smiled back, the same way you had been for months; a polite smile the kind you give a friend or stranger, not the man you’ve been married to for three years.

“Hey baby.” He leaned down to kiss you, but it landed on your cheek after you turned away.

“Daichi.” Your tone was low, your eyes slowly meeting his. “We need to talk.”

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He sat next to you, his hand wrapping around yours for comfort. Something felt off and he couldn’t put his finger on what hurts him the most. The love of his life wasn’t okay and he didn’t know why.

“I want a divorce.”

His eyebrows knitted together as he felt himself stiffen at your words. Yesterday if someone asked him, he’d have said he knew you better than himself, but today that could no longer be said.

“W-why?” His voice broke, tears quickly filled his eyes and that sight on any other day would’ve broken your heart, maybe even made you cry. Today it didn’t.

“I’m having an affair.”

He shook his head as he stood up, backing away from you. His eyes landed on the things around you as if he couldn’t even look at you. Several questions ran through his mind, trying to figure out when and where things went wrong. But there were only two questions that seemed to repeat enough to slip out.

“H-h-how long? W-with w-who?” He was crying, wiping his face with his forearm trying to compose himself. In the last 8 years he never thought you would be someone who could hurt him this badly.

You took a deep breath, “Would knowing that really be best?”

“How long?” He cleared his throat, his tone more forceful like it was back in his volleyball days.

“Five months.”

You saw him take a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “With who?”

You knew the next word out of your mouth would be the final blow. That alone should’ve made you rethink how you told him, changed the tone of your voice, but you don’t.

“Asahi.” Your tone was ice cold.

Everything that Daichi had ever known completely shattered. Everything that he thought about one of his best friends and his wife were lies and somehow, he missed out on all it. He turned and walked towards the bedroom.

Ten minutes passed before he walked back into the living room, wearing his work uniform. How awful were you to tell him this knowing he still had to go to work after this? Knowing that he’d have to work through all of this while still trying to do his job.

“A few weeks ago, when we…” It looked as though he might throw up. “Had you also been with him?”

You nodded, knowing exactly which night he was talking about. You watched his face twist in an almost disgusted expression knowing that his wife had been in his friend’s bed and then in his. That his hands had caressed the same places his friend had just hours earlier.

You watched as he gathered his keys and phone, grabbing his work bag before he left. He glanced at you one last time before the door shut, a broken expression was the last thing you saw before he was gone.

13 hours ago – 5:12 AM

You had been in such a hurry that you hadn’t noticed it was raining until your clothes were soaked. Neither you nor Asahi could seem to calm down enough to think, seemingly standing outside lost. Finally, you hailed a taxi, the two of you cramming into the backseat, Asahi rambling off the hospital’s address. Your cold shaking fingers scrolled through your phone, finding the contact you needed to reach.

“Y/N?” A yawn came from the other line.

“S-S-Suga?” Your voice broke trying to find the words.

“What’s going on?” You managed to relay the message you had previously told Asahi before breaking down. Asahi pulled you into his side as Suga tried to comfort you on the phone. He promptly told you that he’d meet you at the hospital and hung up.

“He’ll be okay, Y/N.” Asahi told you, pressing his lips to the side of your head. All you could do was nod, the both of you refusing to let yourselves think what would happen if he wasn’t. You closed your eyes, resting your head on Asahi’s shoulder, letting your mind wander to the day your affair had started.

Five months ago

You checked yourself in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. You smoothed down your hair before spraying some of your perfume on you in hopes to cover the cologne that clings to your skin. The traces of Asahi still clung to you, his touch still ghosted your body even after a 30-minute drive home from his hotel.

You’re surprised when you hear your husband in the kitchen as you walk down the hallway; you were positive that he had work. He turned around when you called out his name, a huge smile on his face, before walking over to kiss you.

“I thought you had work?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, “I switched shifts. I know that I’ve been super busy lately, it’s just that I want to make sure we’ll be okay when we start a family.”

You smiled at him, that was just like your husband, to shock you by being the most thoughtful person. Once the topic of a family came up, he had started picking up extra shifts whenever he could; wanting to make sure you’d be okay if he took time off once your family grew.

This was why you had fallen for Daichi in the first place. His thoughtfulness, his compassion, his ability to make you smile no matter how rough the day was. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He pulled you closer to him before he peppered your face with kisses.

Daichi was one of the last good men around, you had been constantly reminded about that fact whenever people met him. You know that he is, that he’d move the sun if you asked him to, but even with all of that, you still couldn’t help but be drawn to the man whose cologne filled your memories.

12 hours ago – 6:21 AM

You ran into the hospital, your clothes dripping from the rain. Running up to the front desk, you told them who you were only to have them tell you to sit and wait. Suga’s comforting voice called out to you before you had the chance to find him.

“Y/N.”

“Suga, have you seen him?” He shook his head, telling you that they wouldn’t tell him anything until you got there. His expression grew confused when he saw Asahi coming into the waiting room.

“How did I get here before you, Y/N?” He looked to his former teammate, “And how’d you get here so fast? From Tokyo?”

The both of you just looked down, neither wanting to confirm what you were sure Suga had already figured out. But you were spared from his questioning when a voice called out your name, the three of you heading towards the man in the white coat with an almost unreadable expression on his face.

Four years ago

The two of you had moved into your first apartment together and today you were spending the day at the park nearby. Daichi had packed a picnic and set it up under a cherry blossom tree. You were sitting there, laughing when Daichi surprised you with an engagement ring.

He had this long drawn out speech ready but as soon as he said your name and you say the box, you repeatedly said yes, tackling him back on the blanket. All he could do was laugh as he slipped the ring on your finger as you beamed up at him with nothing but love.

12 hours and five minutes ago – 6:26 AM

The doctor looked at you, confirming you were Daichi’s wife before continuing with the news on your husband. Suga scoffed when you called yourself Daichi’s wife and it wasn’t missed on you.

He cleared his throat after introducing himself before giving his condolences and explaining that they had done all they could but it just wasn’t enough.

A sob ripped from your throat and you found yourself in Asahi’s arms but for the first time in months, it felt off. He tried to console you while tear fell from his own eyes.

Suga’s eyes glared at the two of you, waiting for the doctor to leave before going off.

“Does…did Daichi know?”

You nodded, Asahi’s arms still around you.

“For how long?”

“I…I told him before work.” You looked down. “Today.”

“This is your fault. You did this. You caused this.” He motioned his finger between you and Asahi before storming out of the waiting room.

Four months later

You sit under a cherry blossom tree in the park that was just a five-minute walk from the first apartment you and Daichi rented together. It’s the same one that he had proposed under not that long ago. Sometimes when the wind blew it felt like he was there with you, but you know you don’t really deserve that.

You tilt your head back onto the tree, taking in a deep breath.

I’m so sorry, Daichi. Tears stream down your face and you can’t seem to wipe them away fast enough.

It feels wrong to miss him, to wish he was still alive, especially when you had spent the last five months of his life in someone else’s arms. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth when you wake up forgetting that he’s gone or when you swear you’ve heard his voice. Some days you swear you seen him around town, at the store, even mistaking someone in the uniform he used to wear as him.

A warm breeze wraps around you, comforting you in a way that reminds you of when Daichi would pull you into a hug after a long day. Or how he’d bring your favorite tea when he knew you were stressed, even if you hadn’t told him you were upset.

Your hand gently rubbed over your barely showing stomach. I don’t know what hurts most Daichi, knowing it’s probably not your baby or wanting it to yours more than anything.

“There you are. Are you ready to go?” Asahi gently pulls you up, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You look at the man in front of you, smiling, “Of course.” I really want it to be yours, Daichi.

Masterlist is here.

#sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #tw: character death #tw: cheating #hq angst

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ibethalantyr · 4 years ago

Text

To His Most Radiant of Lathander, Kelddath Ormlyr, Governor of Beregost

Your Excellency,

Please find enclosed with this letter extracts copied from my personal papers detailing the incident we discussed last month. Sincere apologies for the delay: I have found my papers to be in an odd state of disarray owing to an (unrelated) magical problem. This manuscript was created approximately three days after the incident described, during which time I had undertaken further investigations, the fruits of which are also recorded here. I assert, on oath as you instructed, that no material has been altered or omitted within its continuous length, making said length wholly your own fault. The absence of personal names is consistent with the original, a practice I have adopted in all similar papers as a defense against magical surveillance. No post facto alterations have been made. “The gnome” refers to that individual whose name I disclosed to you at our earlier meeting.

I hereby consent that you or your appointed representative inspect the original to confirm my sworn assertions above, with the stipulation that such an inspection take place within the walls of the High Hedge House, as we discussed earlier discussed.

***

The old conjurer is convinced that there are few things easier than for a wizard to go bad, and few things worse than a bad wizard. The gnome, unfortunately, is just the latest proof.

Upon reading this line, he is discomfited to discover that it sounds like the product of some Athkatlan zealot pamphleteer rather than a long practicing conjurer with some professional pride. As such, some clarifications are needed before he proceeds further.

There are “few things worse than a bad wizard” because wizards hold considerable power for making their plans and desires a reality, and so when those plans or desires turn toward the selfish, the callous, or the hateful, the scale of damage a wizard then creates is larger than the average creature. Powerful wizards can - and do - kill, enslave, and mutilate for no reason at all, or for no reason other than that they want to. Even the gnome’s peculiar penchant for petrification is not unique, although the power to do so is unique to wizards. But while the power to do certain kinds of damage is unique to us, it is not uniquely large: a bad king, or a bad merchant, or a bad priest can leave a trail of damage at least as long behind them.

Even when writing “there are few things easier than for a wizard to go bad,” it is not the old conjurer’s intention to assert that there is anything inherently corrupting about either the study or practice of the Art. Years of honing and exercising power - whether arcane or otherwise - simply make it fit comfortably in the hand, and may (not to say must) bring out the worst parts of a practitioner’s personality. Magic - or better, power - will not make a person bad, but it may make a bad person worse.

The gnome’s first letter arrived a little more than a year ago. He was a very pleasant correspondent: a fellow conjurer (unusual for one of his species) who was pursuing a research project, a project on which he had hoped for some assistance. He was interested in a refinement of the monster summoning spell which would allow for the conjuration of a specific type of creature - a greater basilisk. Both the specificity of the summoning and the power of the creature involved would represent significant advancements to the classic form of the monster summoning genre, making this a very exciting project indeed. To be invited to contribute to such an undertaking was extremely flattering.

What prompted the first letter (or so the gnome claimed at the time) was a treatise that the old conjurer had written many years before, dealing with the bound loyalty of summoned creatures. This is a topic about which most specialists show little interest, but which was especially interesting to the old conjurer due to its relevance to his old favorite question (creation vs. summoning). The gnome’s interest was more practical. Unless the loyalty of a summoned basilisk could be assured with the same level of certainty as for other objects of a monster summoning, the spell itself would be nearly suicidal to attempt. Flattered by the approach and (to tell the truth) lonely for professional conversation, the old conjurer was only too happy to reply.

And so the correspondence began. Every few weeks, a new letter would arrive, full of compliments for the old conjurer’s insights and with new questions, born (it would seem) from the gnome’s ongoing observations of the basilisk’s life cycle. It made for a pleasant diversion from the often mundane work of a magical shopkeeper, and reminded the old conjurer of his younger, more ambitious days.

Then, about a month ago, a letter of a different sort came. Still full of effusive praise, but this time with a request rather than a question. Could the old conjurer create an item - an amulet or a ring perhaps - incorporating some of the techniques they had discussed? Such an item would be an invaluable tool for studying basilisks in the wild, and potentially provide an essential proof of concept for the loyalty portion of the planned spell which, from the sound of it, was nearly complete. Excited by the prospect of contributing, even in a small way, to such a breakthrough, the old conjurer readily agreed, and set a date for the gnome to come to his stately house and collect the item in question.

The meeting - their first and only in the flesh - had started out quite cordially, though in hindsight there had been a number of danger signs even then that the old conjurer should have recognized. The gnome had been immoderately pleased with the ring, which he expected would serve only too well. When the old conjurer, who had planned a number of experiments to test the efficacy of the new and innovative enchantment, heard this, he expressed considerable surprise. How could the gnome be so certain? He smiled chillingly, and in a voice I will never forget, replied,

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

The gnome then began to cast. Based on the wording and structure, it was a gate spell of some sort, though modified and radically simplified, probably castable as a sixth-tier working. At the end of the incantation, the gnome spat out an object, probably the scale of a greater basilisk, given that that is what appeared in the middle of the old conjurer’s sitting room. Before he could recover from the shock of this, the gnome brandished his new ring and ordered the beast to turn the old conjurer to stone.

By happy accident, the old conjurer was prepared for such an attack. Expecting to see a controlled version of the proposed summoning spell in action, he had prepared a contingency spell that would protect him from petrification in the event that a basilisk or similar creature came within 60 feet of him. While the old conjurer had been caught unaware, the spell had not, and so he was protected from the attack even before it was ordered.

Unfortunately, he had lost valuable time, and the gnome at least had come prepared for a fight. Magical duels general follow a classic form. First, cast spells of defense, generally an illusion or a direct abjuration. By the time the old conjurer had gotten to his feet, the gnome was already mirror imaged. A low level defense, but a wise one on the whole. As a fellow conjurer, he knew only too well that his opponent had made no study of the sort of major divinations that provide the most direct countermeasure. He had also guessed rightly that I would be unwilling to destroy my own house with a fireball, and a mirror image provides more than adequate protection against more precise forms of offensive spell casting. It also frees up higher tier spells for offensive use.

But not quite yet. For, before moving on to physical harm, most mages will first make an attack on the minds of their opponents, a gambit that is both defensive and offensive, in that it undermines the ability to attack and defend simultaneously. Enchantment spells are the most common choice in such situations. The gnome had instead begun a spell which used heavily necromantic vocabulary. Horror, then: lower level and quicker to cast than most offensive enchantments, but correspondingly easier to resist. With a mirror image in place, successful disruption would be very unlikely, even if the old conjurer had prepared for a duel. He had not. He is a shopkeeper, and had been expecting a pleasant conversation with a colleague and then a normal day’s work.

But one must work with the materials to hand. Having been planning to finish brewing a stock of potion, the old conjurer had a spell of lesser invisibility prepared. Even with the gnome’s head start, he would be able to cast it on himself before the horror spell was complete. He did. Barely.

Luckily - or perhaps not; fear had been the old conjurer’s frequent companion for years - he was able to resist the spell. Even more luckily, his invisible state meant the gnome had no way of knowing that. This was not the sort of fight for which he had prepared. In all likelihood, the gnome had expected either to turn his host to stone at once or else to engage in a lengthy and intricate spell duel. Given the low level opening moves, he had probably reserved his higher level preparations (which would be at least sixth-tier, judging by the gate spell) for breaching spell defenses and dealing maximum punishment afterward. A game of cat and mouse with an old coward was not at all what he had been expecting.

He said as much, and more besides. That the old conjurer was an self-absorbed fool, so easy to flatter and manipulate. That he, the gnome, had only ever been interested in controlling basilisks and that the method had not concerned him. That he had already worked out the gate spell before writing for the first time, having been living for some time at a basilisk’s nest in the barrens east of town. That he had only ever wanted a control item, and had been feeding the old conjurer the information - and the simpering flattery - that he would need to complete it. He had discovered the treatise later and thought it would be the perfect way to start an acquaintance, and that the old conjurer would be the perfect mark. Real mages, after all, aren’t soft-skinned school boys interested in books and minutia. Real wizards seek to be as powerful as possible for as little effort as possible, so that they could do was they pleased. And that what pleased him was to take possession of this comfortable house and mount its previous owner on one of the turrets as a gargoyle.

How much of this is true, the old conjurer cannot be sure. He is a fool, certainly. No question of that.

But one does not live to be an old fool without learning a thing or two. He had known fear and danger, and he had known magical duels aplenty once upon a time. In that time, the old conjurer had discovered - like many greater wizards before and since - that winning such a contest has less to do with sheer power than many mages would like to think. At least as important, perhaps even more important, is timing. The most powerful mages can hurl swarms of fiery meteors capable of devastating whole towns. Such castings take time, however, and in the time that a great archmage is rattling off the necessary incantation, the greenest apprentice can shoot off a single magic missile, breaking his counterpart’s concentration and wasting the whole effort. And if that apprentice has brave friends with weapons, that may be the end of that.

As he crept invisibly around the sitting room, listening to the gnome rant and watching him pocket various valuable items, the old conjurer was trying to work out the timing. Presuming he did nothing more vigorous than creep, the invisibility spell would last a full day. He could try to escape and raise the alarm, but he was unwilling to leave the gnome alone in the house, with so many valuable and dangerous weapons with which to arm himself. (Truth be told, he was also unwilling to confess to others the depth of his ego and his blindness, an unwillingness he still feels). Perhaps he could simply leave the room, grab his staff and a few scrolls, then return to the fight on equal footing? But the gnome seemed to be thinking along similar lines, for he quickly ordered his pet monster to block one door, and was now busily looking for any others. As it happened, there weren’t any secret passages out of the room, a problem to which the old conjurer should tend soon.

So, it would come down to timing, If he simply waited, the mirror image would wear off in a matter of minutes, leaving the gnome vulnerable to attack. But any such attack would reveal his presence not only to the gnome but to the basilisk as well. How long the monster would remain was impossible to say. Summoning spells generally expire after about an hour, but this wasn’t a traditional summoning spell. How long could he afford to wait?

The gnome was getting more and more frustrated. He began to cast again, this time an enchantment. The old conjurer steeled himself, ready to fight off an intellectual or emotionally attack. But then he recognized the spell: the greater malison, designed to weaken his magical defenses. His impatient house guest wanted this over as quickly as possible, and intended to make it more likely that whatever dire or spectacular working he attempted next would be the last he would need. But what would he choose?

Creeping closer, the old conjurer watched as the gnome pulled from his pocket a single black pearl. As he crushed it to dust, the conjurer moved too. Picking up an empty potion bottle, he smashed it to shards against the table. The gnome, who had just begun the death spell incantation, flinched at the noise, and at his enemy’s sudden appearance within arms reach of him. He did not break his concentration, however. The conjurer began an incantation of his own: feeblemind. The spell was complex, though less so than the death spell. He should be able to complete it before the gnome could complete his. Then it would be down to whether the gnome would be able to resist. Seeming to realize this, he split into a mad grin. At the same moment, his mirror images flickered and went out, leaving only the real gnome, still mid spell.

And the old conjurer cast. But rather than casting at the gnome himself, he aimed his spell squarely at the ring on his finger.

The old conjurer is a shopkeeper, and he knows a thing or two about magic items. One thing he knows is that properly enchanted items remain receptive to magic for a certain amount of time after the completion of the spell. The ring was still within that receptive period, and by design. The old conjurer had not yet cast the spell that would make it’s basilisk-control powers permanent, wanting to be sure first that the experimental spell was effective. Instead, he added the feeblemind spell, because of something else he knows. When enchanting items, it is possible for the items to “resist” receiving the spell, much as a person might. An items ability to resist is always tied to the enchanter’s own magical resistance, resistance that the gnome himself had attacked. So, by targeting the ring rather than the gnome himself, the old conjurer had greatly diminished the ability of the gnome to resist the spell.

The fact that he sits here writing about it attests to his success. The feeblemind spell attached itself to the ring and badly damaged the mind of the casting gnome. His death spell died on his lips, though the look of shock and incredulity that he wore suggested that his mind was not so damaged as was usually the case. The basilisk, too, linked to the mind of its master, simply stood stupidly in the doorway of sitting room.

Knowing the importance of timing, the old conjurer set about removing his guests, both wanted and unwanted, as quickly as possible. Given the hasty construction of the gate spell - the old conjurer suspects that the gnome had opted for such a simple conjuration as a time saving measure - he surmised that a simple “dispel magic” would dispatch the basilisk back where it came from. Stuffing the basilisk scale back into the gnome’s gaping mouth, the old conjurer focused his dispelling on the creature. Both it, and its master, vanished without a trace, leaving the old conjurer with a bleeding hand (he’d needed the glass for his spell), a wrecked sitting room, and a sick, empty feeling.

In the time since he has tended his hand with bandages and the feeling with research (the room will have to wait until his hand is better). This is what the old conjurer has discovered so far. The “summoning” spell the gnome created was in fact a modified gate spell. He was able to cast it at the sixth tier rather than the usual ninth because of his deep knowledge of basilisks and, more importantly, because he had hidden the basilisk nearby, in a small cove on the coast. The sirines had told him that they had seen a gnome matching his guest’s description anchoring a ship there for the last several weeks, most recently unloading a large crate. Disturbingly, it was one of several. The rest were not onboard when the ship returned for its addled master a few days later. His mind was apparently intact enough for him to operate the ship, though not successfully. It wrecked a few miles to the south. The whereabouts of the gnome himself are at this time unknown, but inquiries continue. Hopefully, his mind is now too damaged to perform further magic, or at least magic at the level he once practiced. It would be foolish to take too much for granted, however. And to judge by his horrific actions so far, a diseased mind did not stop him from being a mage before I intervened, so there is no reason to expect that it will be so now.

It is far too easy for a wizard to go bad, whether out callous greed or ego and loneliness. A lesson learned.

***

Well, that’s the worst of it. I suspect he’s hiding somewhere northeast of town, but it would probably be best to wait for him to come to us rather than place a bounty on his head. If he remains in possession of his powers and his monsters, he will be a more formidable foe than most around here can manage, and if we are to fight him ourselves, I would prefer to have the advantage of defense. But then, perhaps I am a coward after all.

-T

#an old conjurer's memoirs #bg1 #baldur's gate #wizard #mage #this took forever #and i cut so much #and it's still so long #ugh

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jawritter · 4 years ago

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The Arrangement

Part 17

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, fear of flying, anxiety, social anxiety, some fluff in there, I think that’s everything.

Word Count: 1472

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

"Baby, you get the chargers?" Jensen yelled at you from the bathroom where he was doing his hair, getting ready to head to the airport to fly out to California with Jared and Clif. Jensen had booked a hotel room for the two of you, sort of away from the fray of California. 'Where the two of you could relax, and spend time together.' he had said.

That part of it you were looking forward to, even if you were nervous about leaving the state of Texas for the first time. Jensen had reassured you enough that he would be there to take care of you, and that nothing would happen to you; that you had actually gotten a little excited about going to Califiorna to spend some time with Jensen.

It was getting in the plane, and going thousands of feet into the air, where if anything went wrong there was only one way to go, that was what scared you, that bothered you the most.

Jensen said more people died in a car accident than they did in an airplane. That didn't really help to sooth your fears.

What did help was the fact that Jared had a private jet, and you wouldn't be flying commercial. That cut down on your time at the actual airport going through security and all that hassle that you weren't really looking forward to either.

The one downside to that was that you were going to be stuck on a plane with Jared, a man that literally hates your guts, for several hours with no escape.

Your last meeting face to face was when you had gone over to his house right after you and Jensen had gotten married, and that hadn't exactly gone over well. So you were a little worried about being trapped on a plane with him to say the least. You had packed a book and some headphones, hoping to distract yourself enough to stay out of his way, and just let Jensen entertain him for the flight.

The sound of the front door slamming made you jump. Jensen, knowing Jared was on his way, just stuck his head out of the bedroom door and yelled down to Jared and Clif who were waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"We will be down there in just a second. Clif, all the bags are packed and put by the door if you want to load them into the car?”

Shutting the door Jensen, crossed the floor to where you were standing, putting your purse over your shoulder.

"You okay sweetheart? Are you ready to go?"

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him, everything in you just wanted to tell the men downstairs to go away, and crawl back into the bed with Jensen and sleep for the rest of the day, not having to deal with anything.

You knew that wasn't possible though, so you just nodded and attempted to smile at him when he kissed your forehead lightly, before grabbing your hand in his, and making his way toward the door with you in tow. This was going to be a long trip for you, you just knew it.

The drive to the airport wasn't as bad as you expected it to be. The boys all chatted while you sat quietly, and watched the Austin scenery flow by your window. Jensen's hand was still wrapped tightly around yours, squeezing you occasionally, letting you know that he was right there should you need him.

It was still very early in the morning, and the traffic hadn't gotten horrible yet, so there was very little to halt, or slow your trip to the airport down.

Even for early in the morning, the airport was crowded, people standing in long lines, waiting in one way or another,standing around talking on cell phones, and sitting on the floor waiting on their flight numbers to be called. You were shaking slightly as you held tight to Jensen's hand, making your way toward Jared's private plane that was awaiting you all, fueled up, and ready for it's trip.

Jensen leaned down and put his arm around you, pulling your tightly to him as he saw a group of young yours, probably teenagers, making their way towards your little group. He hadn't let anyone see you, even though everyone had found out that you were married by now. He still hadn't really posted any pictures or anything on social media, and since he had no projects really going on right now, no events where in place you where required to attend. There was no real reason for you to make an appearance.

Something told you that you were about to make your appearance to the "fandom" for the first time.

Your stomach knotted up even more than it already was, and you regretted your choice of Jensen's oversized black and white plaid shirt, black undershirt, black knee length leggings, and black flats; with a ball cap to match. You were sure you looked horrible. You had very little makeup on, and your hair brushed straight down your back, the way Jensen liked it.

"Oh My God!! Jensen!! Jared!! I can't believe it's really you!! You guys look great!! Can we get a picture with you!!" The tall blonde was pretty much bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement, her more observant friend was looking at you with a sort of smile on her lips as she noticed yours and Jensen's hands entwined together.

"Jensen, is this your wife?"

Jensen looked down and smiled at you after posing for the picture with the two women.

"Yes this is Y/N." he said, pulling you close to his side, and kissing the top of your forehead lightly as he squeezed your shoulders.

"OH!! Can we get a picture with you too!!" the blonde said excitedly.

Jensen looked down at you, almost apologetically.

"That's up to you sweetheart." he said.

You could feel Jared's eyes on you, watching your every move. You knew that this was part of being married to Jensen, and you knew that this day would come eventually. You didn't want to disappoint him.

"Sh...Sure... Uh Okay..." you stuttered out and they got on either side of you, and Jared snapped the picture quickly for them, then Clif started to usher them away from your little group.

"Okay ladies we gotta get going!" Jensen said, pulling you close to him again,wrapping his hand around yours.

They thanked you all again gratefully, and you made your way quickly to the airplane. You were thankful that you were safe inside of it, which was surprising to you. You never thought you would be happy to be on an airplane, go figure. Your hands were still shaking from your first encounter with the fans.

"You did great baby." Jensen said, pulling you so that your head was down on his shoulder.

"Yeah Y/N, you did really well." Jared said, surprising you even more. He thought you did well. Maybe you could do this after all.

The plane started to make it's assent, and you grabbed onto Jensen's hand tightly as he pulled you to him, kissing your head like he had developed a habit of doing every time he knew you were uncomfortable or nervous about something. Before you knew it, the plane had smoothed out, and you were in the air.

"So Y/N Jay said this is the first time you've ever been outside of the state of Texas. Are you excited?"

Was he really trying to make small talk with you? That was new.

"Yeah I guess." you said shortly, and curled up closer to Jensen, who said nothing, just started playing with your hair and settled himself for the flight.

"You know Jensen, they said on the phone last night, that if we all agree to do this, then we will be filming in Vancouver again." Jared said, seemingly excited.

Jensen took a deep breath and just nodded. You knew he still wasn't completely on board with this whole revising Supernatural thing, even though you told him you would be there and support him every step of the way.

Jensen was afraid he would lose you through all this, that it would be too much for you, and you would leave him. Your mind was made up; you weren't going anywhere. No matter how hard or different this was. You needed to learn to live a little, not be such a coward.

You lay there on Jensen's shoulder, him playing with your hair as they chatted between each other about the show, and the people they worked with that they haven't seen in a long time. You started to doze off,content with Jensen's strong arm wrapped around you.

'You can do this Y/N..." You thought to yourself as you drifted off to sleep for the rest of the flight.

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Tag List: @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen series #jensen fanfiction #dean winchester #x reader inserts #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #jawritter #jawritter 1k celebration #the arrangement

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goofygomez · 5 years ago

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Family - A TLOU fanfiction

Description: Set seven years after the events of The Last of Us Part II, Ellie must confront her past in the most unlikely way.

Wordcount: 3584

A/N: Hey guys, just wanna say a HUGE WARNING that there are (obviously) spoilers for The Last of Us Part II in this fic, so read at your own discretion. Also this is my first time writing for this fandom so I hope I got it right. Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated, and enjoy!

Ellie hated Clickers.

Even twenty-seven years after living in this godforsaken world, one of the scariest things she could think of was a Clicker. Their bat-like senses alerting them of every slight movement, the rattling sound they gave off that told you trouble was brewing. It was enough to make her skin crawl. Over the years, she had developed systems to keep her cabin safe from infected or otherwise, but every now and then, a few stragglers would wander into her vicinity. Today was one of those days. She could hear the unmistakable clicking noise coming from somewhere within the forest.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and stepped out of the back door into the wilderness. For seven years, this had been her home. Secluded in the middle of a dense, overgrown forest, it was the best location she could have chosen to be completely isolated from the world. Trails leading up to the cabin had been blocked or simply dissipated with time, so Ellie was the only person capable of traversing the woods around her easily.

The afternoon sun shone over her, the tops of trees cast odd shadows on the ground. Heaving a sigh, Ellie ventured into her usual route toward the traps, looking over her shoulder at the cabin. It was a small thing, big enough to house a bedroom and a semblance of a kitchen. She hunted most of her food, so there wasn’t much else she needed anyway.

A gentle breeze blew past her from her left, making her shiver. She pulled her jacket closer to her. Winter was rapidly approaching. Tommy, who was the only person from Jackson who even knew about her whereabouts – and even then, only by accident – would be passing through soon to provide her with canned goods she might need during hibernation season.

“Hope you bring some beans,” she mumbled to herself, longing a nice hot plate of them.

She followed the clicking noise to her right, weaving through large pine trees and walking straight into a small clearing, where the sun shone freely over the barren ground. In the middle of it hung three writhing bodies from ropes tied to the higher branches, their screeches and groans permeating the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the forest.

It was two Runners, one of whom had seemingly given up the struggle, and a very angry Clicker. One of the Runners spotted her and tried to claw at her, yelling at the top of his lungs while his companion barely reacted. The Clicker had become oddly silent when Ellie came into the clearing, moving its head around in search of prey. Sighing, she walked over to the Runners and easily disposed of them with her switchblade.

When the second one hit the floor, the Clicker’s head turned rapidly in her direction and began drawing its rattling breath as it attempted to locate her. It emitted a high-pitched screech, which made Ellie have to cover her ears, and then lunged at her, missing her arm by inches. She walked around it slowly, making sure not to step on any dead leaves, and plunged her knife into the Clicker’s throat. It made a guttural sound as blood poured down Ellie’s arm and onto the ground.

“When will you guys go extinct?” she asked it, cleaning the blade on her jeans.

She looked around, straining her ears in case any more of them showed up. For a moment, it was all quiet. Birds chirped overhead and the leaves on the ground rustled gently with the autumn breeze. The next moment, a loud yelp coming from somewhere on her left startled her. She could hear the moaning of infected, maybe half a dozen of them, but one voice was definitely different than the rest. It was human.

Breaking into a sprint, she dodged and weaved through the trees, getting ever closer to the yelling. She came across a narrow path, one of the only ones that she hadn’t covered off. A figure was bounding its way down it toward her. It was a boy, panting and heaving breaths with wide eyes. He had a cut on his forehead and blood trickled down his face as he ran.

“Over here!” she called, waving her arms trying to get his attention. It worked. The boy’s head spun around and he spotted Ellie. Rather apprehensively, he looked over his shoulder, where Ellie could already see at least five Runners barreling toward them.

Shaking his head, the boy ran to Ellie and followed her through a different path, much thicker and less easily traversable. She looked wildly around her as they ran, searching for signs that would let her know where they were.

“They’re getting closer!” the boy said, panting heavily.

She saw it as soon as he said it. A large red cloth was wrapped around a very old, decrepit-looking tree. “This way,” she said, pulling him by the arm to the left of the tree and shoving him past a felled trunk beside it.

“In there.” She pointed to a large opening in the ground, just big enough to fit both of them. Again, he hesitated. “Hurry!” she hissed. The sounds of the infected were getting closer, their stomping footsteps like a ticking clock.

He obeyed and slid into the hole, followed closely by Ellie, who moved a large piece of bark over their heads. It was almost pitch black in the hole, where barely a single ray of sunshine penetrated, illuminating Ellie’s face. She pressed her finger to her lips, and the boy did the same, nodding. They kept quiet as the groans of the infected passed them by, their bodies tense as a particularly loud one stopped for a moment by the trunk. Eventually, the noise subsided.

“I think it’s safe,” she whispered, slowly removing the piece of bark and letting in the sun. “Yeah, come on.”

She helped the boy out of the hole and finally let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. To her left, the kid did the same, leaning against a tree as he massaged his side. He was short in stature, with shoulder-length messy black hair. His brown eyes studied her much like she did him. She had a creeping sensation he’d seen that look before, but couldn’t quite place it.

“Thanks, by the way,” he said, recovering.

“No problem,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You should come with me; let me take a look at that cut before you head out.”

The boy pursed his lips and looked around. Everywhere they turned, foliage overwhelmed the space. She could see his apprehension, but he must have figured there wasn’t much choice, so he nodded.

“Okay, thanks,” he said.

Offering the boy a weak smile, she turned and began walking toward the cabin. She looked over her shoulder every now and then, checking the boy was following her. Despite keeping a respectable distance from her, he didn’t run away. Probably lost, she thought.

The sun was beginning to wane by the time they got back to the cabin, quickly replaced by gray clouds, the last tendrils of sunlight seeping through the half-open window. She opened the door for him and he slowly walked inside, never taking his eyes off her. The blood on his forehead had dried out, a thin line stretching all the way to his chin and part of his neck.

“Here, take a seat,” she said, pointing to a small makeshift chair that had taken her the better part of her first months there to make. It wasn’t much, but it was sturdy as hell.

He sat down, breathing deeply. Ellie rummaged through a box by her bedside table and took out a bandage and some alcohol. She was running low on the latter. Gotta ask Tommy for some if he can spare it, she reminded herself.

She dabbed the bandage with a few drops and rubbed it gently over the boy’s forehead. He flinched slight but otherwise kept still as she worked on the cut, taking deep breaths.

“What brings you by here?” she asked conversationally as she began wrapping the bandage around his head a few times.

“Just passing through,” he said warily. “I got lost and then those fuckers jumped me.”

“You were lucky you only got a cut on your head,” she said. “I took out a Clicker just before I found you.”

The boy shivered. “I hate Clickers.”

“Hear hear,” Ellie said with a chuckle. She looked out the window, where light rain had begun to fall. Droplets raced each other across the surface of the glass, replaced by fresh ones as the rain picked up. “You should crash here for the night, at least until the rain passes.”

“Really?” the boy said, apprehensive. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s okay,” she argued, waving a dismissive hand in the air. Despite what her survival instincts were telling her – namely that it’s a stupid idea to invite a stranger to stay the night – she couldn’t with a good conscience leave him to fend for himself in the rain.

“Thanks, I guess,” he said, suppressing a yawn.

“All done,” Ellie said tightening the bandage over his head. “That should hold until tomorrow. It’s not very deep, you might just live.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re very welcome,” she told him, bowing her head slightly with a smile. “Now c’mere, you can sleep in my bed.”

“Where will you sleep?” he said as she heralded him to the bed, which was really just a few planks tied together with a rather skimpy comforter and a blanket for good measure. Needless to say, winter was Ellie’s least favorite season, for more reasons than one.

“I’m not tired, don’t worry about me,” she assured him. The boy nodded his bandaged head and lay down on the bed, testing its springiness, or lack of it. “Sorry about that, I know it’s not a 5-star hotel.”

“It’s fine,” he said, offering her a rather genuine smile. “I’m not really tired either.”

But as he said that, he lay back down on Ellie’s questionable pillow and promptly closed his eyes. Barely a few minutes later, he was already snoring. She made her way back to the chair and slumped back, sighing heavily.

As the kid gently snored, Ellie picked up a book that sat on the table. She had scavenged it from some Runner’s backpack a few months ago, and she hadn’t been able to put it down since. It was about a treehouse that took these two kids on all sorts of adventures. Unfortunately, it appeared it was part of a larger series, and she had been unable to procure more than the two she’d found in that backpack. Talk about cliffhangers…

“Now I’ll never know,” she said to herself in an undertone as she flipped through the final pages.

Her eyes were getting heavy, and the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against the walls and roof was making her sleepy. She made a conscious effort to stay awake, but her exhaustion won over in the end. Right where she sat, she was plunged into a deep sleep. For a moment, it seemed quiet. Then, the inevitable happened.

Another nightmare. She was used to them by now. It was odd, though. They had been getting better and were occurring less frequently lately.

She was standing in knee-deep snow, facing the backside of a large wood mansion. The sliding glass door was ajar, its surface cracked and frosty from the cold. A warm glow came from a window on the second floor, probably from a candle. Slowly, she walked toward the door.

She opened it the rest of the way and stepped inside, grateful for the warmth that kept the biting cold from the blizzard outside at bay. She couldn’t quite place where that warmth was coming from. It seemed to emanate from the room itself. Before she could develop this theory further, she heard a scream.

Her nightmares usually went this way. Calm and beautiful until his screams pierced her ears and the mounting dread that came with them. This time, however, something didn’t sit right with her. They weren’t a man’s screams. They were a woman’s.

Frowning, Ellie rushed down rickety wooden stairs that led to a magnificent kitchen, lined with age-old appliances that must have been quite impressive back in the old world. She turned to the right and stared down the staircase that led to a white, wooden door. Beyond that door, she could hear the woman’s piercing screams, like she was being beaten and could no longer take the pain.

Apprehensively, she began the descent as the screams got louder. She picked up the pace. The stairs seemed to go on forever, the door always too far away to reach. Then she heard the woman’s voice, more clearly than before, utter one word amidst the incessant screaming.

“ELLIE!” she yelled, and Ellie knew that voice. It couldn’t be…

She ran faster, taking the steps three at a time, panting heavily by the time she got to the door. She turned the handle and burst inside, where a faceless person had pinned the woman to the ground and had their hands around her throat. Ellie looked down and her eyes went wide, panic coursing through her veins.

“Dina!” she shrieked, rushing forward and tackling the person, whose features were blurred, either because of the dream or Ellie’s tears, she couldn’t tell. She punched the faceless being once, twice, thrice. Her knuckles were bloody and sore, but she couldn’t stop. Blind rage filled her every bone as she lay into their face, now a mess of blood that covered the floor around her.

“Ellie…” she heard Dina croak out from somewhere to her right. Suddenly, the person beneath her had vanished, their only remains the blood that stuck to Ellie’s hands. “Ellie, please…”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Ellie panted, desperately crawling to Dina’s side. “Dina, it’s me.”

“Ellie,” Dina repeated, her eyes looking straight through Ellie as if she were not there. She was clutching her side, and Ellie could see why. A large gash extended across Dina’s abdomen, staining her orange blouse a deep crimson.

“No no no no,” Ellie stammered, pressing down on the wound with both hands, bloodying them even further, but to no avail. The blood kept flowing, and Dina’s face looked paler by the second. “Dina, no. You can’t die.”

“Take…” Dina breathed, shivering wildly. “Take care of…”

“Of who?” Ellie pleaded, fresh tears welling in her eyes, falling freely over Dina’s now unmoving body. “Dina? Dina!”

There was no answer. Dina’s eyes were wide open, the spark that Ellie had always loved in them gone. The smile etched on her face almost mocking her.

“Dina, c’mon,” she begged, shaking the woman softly. “Don’t do this to me, babe. Don’t do this to me…”

She sat there in the cold, damp room, clutching Dina’s body, weeping through closed eyes for a long time. It could have been minutes, or hours, or entire seasons, but all she wanted was to be there, with her. As she sobbed, her breathing became ragged and hitched. She tried opening her eyes but as she did, the image of Dina’s body dissolved, and Ellie was thrust back into pitch darkness.

Ellie woke up with a start, almost falling backwards from her chair. Feeble rays of morning sun shone through the window and onto her face, making the mixture of tears and sweat that clung to her face shimmer. She clutched her chest, attempting unsuccessfully to qualm her heart rate.

It was just a dream, nothing more, she told herself. But it had felt so real. She could still feel the fabric from Dina’s bloody blouse in her hands, as though its ghost remained in her grip. Shaking, she clutched the side of the table and pushed herself up. Her legs almost gave way as she took one step, but stopped in her tracks when she heard a voice.

“You mumble in your sleep,” the boy said from her left. Jumping, she turned to see him sitting on her bed, cross-legged and fiddling with his thumbs, as if expectant.

“God, you almost gave me a heart attack,” she said. “How long have you been up?”

“About ten minutes,” he replied, shrugging. “You were talking pretty loudly.”

Rubbing her eyes, she groaned. “Sorry about that,” she said.

They stood in silence for a few moments while Ellie opened a can of peaches. She offered some to the boy, who gladly accepted it, munching on it as if he hadn’t eaten for days. Knowing these woods, maybe he hadn’t.

“You want a glass of water?” she asked, grabbing two metal cups.

“Sure,” he said eagerly.

“So,” she said as she turned to him and stretched her hand, “you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“Oh, it’s Jesse,” the boy said nonchalantly, taking the cup from her hand. “Everyone calls me J.J. though.”

It was as though time had frozen still, and the muscles in Ellie’s body had turned to lead. Her ears were inexplicably ringing and her mouth hung half-open. She blinked a few times. Her grip on the cup slackened and the metal container slipped onto the ground and splashed water all over her sneakers. She barely registered this as she kept staring at J.J.

“Uh, you okay?” J.J. asked timidly. She noticed the way he held his hands together, his right clutching the ring and pinky finger of the left.

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She did it again and only a feeble, “yeah,” came out.

“Do I… do I know you?” the boy asked, raising an eyebrow.

What a loaded question, Ellie thought bitterly. Did he know her? After all, seven years was a long time, but then again, did his mom not have any pictures of her? Had she never told J.J. about her? A surge of emotions she couldn’t even comprehend rushed through her system until she landed back on earth and blinked once more.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, “but I know you.”

J.J. stood up. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing here?” Ellie asked. “Shouldn’t you be with Dina?”

The boy took a step backwards, frowning. “How do you know my mom’s name?”

That question broke Ellie’s heart; not because the boy didn’t recognize her, but because Dina had clearly never mentioned her. You did break her heart though, a little voice in her head said snidely. Why would she tell her son about the woman that abandoned them?

“I… knew her a long time ago,” she settled for, sighing. “I used to live in Jackson. Back before you were born.”

“Oh,” he said simply, almost anti-climactic. “She never told me about you. What’s your name?”

Did it even matter at this point? She wanted to desperately to jump out at him and embrace him, but that would have been weird. What was he even doing this far away from Jackson anyway? The hopeful voice in her wished he had been out there looking for her.

“Name’s Ellie,” she said simply.

“I’ve heard that name before,” J.J. said, igniting that spark in her once more. “Sometimes, my mom –”

His train of thought was cut off by a voice yelling just outside the cabin. Ellie instinctively reached for her knife in her right pocket. A shadow passed one of the windows, slowly moving toward the front of the cabin.

“Stay away from the windows,” she urged the boy. J.J. did as he was told, standing behind her. “Were you followed here?”

“I don’t think so,” he whispered. “I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

The voice, unmistakably a woman’s, spoke again. For a moment, Ellie didn’t want to believe her ears. She definitely knew that voice. She hadn’t really heard it in seven years, but the sweet timbre of Dina’s voice still sent shivers down her spine.

“Jesse!” said Dina, desperation clearly etched in her voice. “J.J., are you here?”

Silence fell after her words, the only sound the chirping of birds in the forest. Ellie’s hands shook so hard she almost dropped the knife. Was she scared? Worried? Even she couldn’t tell. Dina’s footsteps echoed ominously on the cabin’s porch; almost eerie.

One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. Ellie’s heart was thumping harder than ever as she reached for the doorknob with her left hand. Her missing fingers itched… somehow. Taking a deep breath, she turned it and slowly opened the door.

Dina stood on the front door, holding a revolver in her hands, cocked and ready to fire, aimed straight at Ellie. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, just how she’d always loved it. Thin crow’s feet lined her eyes, which she probably found horrible, but Ellie thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her gorgeous brown eyes, so unlike the glassy ones she’d stared into in her dream, were staring back at her.

Ellie tried blinking the tears away, but they just got replaced by fresh ones.

“Dina?” she managed to croak out, shivering despite the sun hitting her square in the face.

Dina’s face was inscrutable for a moment. It was almost as though she couldn’t believe her eyes. her mouth opened and closed like she couldn’t decide what to say. She swallowed hard.

“Ellie?”

#tlou #tlou2 #tlou2 spoilers #ellie williams #dina #dellie #angst #fanfic #I love them sue me #story continuation #time skip

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scrawnydutchman · 3 years ago

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MCU Fan Theory: Edward Norton and Terence Howard are Variants

SPOILERS for the following MCU movies/shows ahead: The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 1, Loki

So as followers of the MCU since early phase 1 will recall, the otherwise IMPRESSIVELY tightly knit marvel cinematic universe has two glaring errors in it’s overall continuity from the very beginning: Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, was recast from Edward Norton to Mark Ruffalo and James “Rhodey” Rhodes, AKA War Machine, was recast from Terence Howard to Don Cheadle. Obviously each of these actors have their reasons for leaving the MCU after having already acted in their roles.

but what if there was a canon explanation for why both Bruce Banner and James Rhodes suddenly look different in their next appearances? The answer may lie in the Disney Plus mini series: Loki.

in the series, Loki gets involved in a mind bending adventure across time and discovers that there can exist universes beyond his own, complete with alternate versions of himself known as “variants”. But in order to preserve the “sacred timeline” and prevent a multiversal war, the Time Variance Authority (or TVA) tracks down variants that create “nexus events” (moments where their choices that were never supposed to happen cause a rift in the timeline and create an alternate branch, possibly leading to another multiversal war if left unchecked). Once apprehended, one of two things happens. These variants either have their memories suppressed and are then recruited to the ranks of the TVA, belieiving themselves to have always been there, OR these variants are “pruned”, I.E. sent to the very end of time along with all the other events dubbed as “cosmic accidents”. where they are fated to be the lunch of an angry cloud. Meanwhile their split timeline is reset and it’s like their deviation never happened. (yeah, if you haven't checked Loki out yet, you seriously should. It is wild.)

Back to Norton and Howard. What if they were versions of Bruce Banner and James Rhodes who HAD existed in the MCU timeline but were since pruned or recruited to the TVA due to some violation against the sacred timeline? What if our focus THEN turned to versions of these characters that had never made such offenses (Ruffalo and Cheadle)?

In order to be in violation of the sacred timeline, they would have each had to be responsible for some sort of nexus event. Perhaps the both of them did something between stories that we don’t know about? or maybe there’s a hint to what they did WITHIN the MCU films and movies?

Admittedly, it’s pretty hard for me to pinpoint exactly what they would have done.

But what if they aren’t necessarily the variants who caused the timeline shift? what if they were mere symptoms of it, and some other variant MCU character is responsible for the nexus event that would have inevitably resulted in the pruning/recruitment of THAT variant and the resetting of that timeline, along with Norton-Banner and Howard-Rhodes in it?

A nexus event is merely going off script for the marvel universe . . . so maybe a plot hole is a nexus event? some action that doesn’t line up with the rest of the continuity of the MCU? Who then is responsible for the disappearance of Norton-Banner and Howard-Rhodes?

our first suspect would be Loki, because . . . Loki is literally the cause of nexus events 99% of the time as demonstrated by the mini series. Maybe everyone in that timeline was sadly erased due to whatever the hell Loki was up to at that time. But Loki had not yet made an appearance in the MCU at that point so it’s impossible to say for certain.

whatever it is that happened, they would have needed to happen AFTER the two movies where Norton-Banner and Howard-Rhodes show up. so Howard-Rhodes would have had to be pruned/reset after the events of Iron Man 1 and Norton-Banner would have had to be pruned/reset after the events of The Incredible Hulk, which according to the MCU timeline and a recent episode of What If . . . ?, happens around the same time as the events of Iron Man 2 and Thor. So Howard-Rhodes would have been removed earlier in the timeline than Norton-Banner.

anyway, it’s just a fresh theory for now for the fun of it. I’ve been actively trying to search for anything in the early MCU from Iron Man 1 to Avengers 2012 that may give some clues as to what happened to them (but who knows? maybe there are clues much later than that?). I invite anyone who’s interested in expanding on this theory to have fun with it. Remember that it’s just for fun, like many other theories (such as Peggy being in the TVA or Stan Lee being the watcher) and don’t take it too seriously.

#marvel #mcu #mcu memes #mcu fanfiction #hulk #war machine #loki #loki (marvel)#fan theory

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yetanotherramblingfangirl · 4 years ago

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Carson/Hughes for the shuffle ask?

You're a good woman and a good friend / You've got a good heart, even when it's busted and bent - “May Your Kindness Remain” by Courtney Marie Andrews

[This is set after Mr. Bates’s trial. This also went way more melodramatic than I originally intended, but here we are. It’s also like 2000+ words long, so I’m putting it under a cut.]

Elsie leaned back against the closed door, her eyes drifting shut for a brief moment. The day had hardly started and already she was ready for it to be over.

Opening her eyes and releasing a deep breath, Elsie decided a walk was definitely in order. She wasn’t fit for company. She just didn’t have the patience for it at the moment. Slipping on her coat as she slipped out the door, she was careful to close it as quietly as possible. She paused for a moment to pull her gloves from her coat pocket. She worked her fingers into the lined leather, flexing her fingers to adjust the fit. Satisfied, she folded her arms over her chest and set out across the courtyard at a measured pace.

The air was cold and crisp, not at all unusual for January. A steady wind tugged at her hair and stung her cheeks. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky. The bright cheeriness of it did little to brighten her mood.

With no real destination in mind, Elsie found herself heading toward the folly. She usually didn’t take that path. Perhaps that was precisely why she’d gone that way today. The others weren’t likely to go looking for her there. It was the perfect place to think, especially about things she didn’t wish to discuss with either Mrs. Patmore or Mr. Carson. And this feeling of failure, this horrible gnawing guilt, was one she didn’t wish to discuss with anyone.

Frustrated with herself, she kicked at loose bits of gravel. It surprised her how much satisfaction she gained from sending the small stones sailing through the air. A distraction from her troubled thoughts, that’s all it was. Something to focus on other than that so often suppressed inner voice that questioned whether she’d made the right choices.

She veered from the path, the grass soft beneath her feet. She missed having something to kick at. Despite the lack of distraction, she did not increase her pace. To do so seemed unnecessary. Time was immaterial today. The family was away and the others had been given the day off. She had work to do, but it was nothing that wouldn’t keep. She didn’t often have free time. And if she decided to spend what little she did manage to find pitying herself then that was her prerogative. However, that didn’t mean her practical nature wouldn’t rail against the very notion.

“Just stop thinking about it. You made choices, choices you cannot change and cannot fix,” she said under her breath.

Had anyone else been around, she would have been mortified. She wasn’t usually one to talk to herself. But this needed saying, and as she couldn’t talk about it with Mrs. Patmore or Mr. Carson, that left only herself to do the talking. She wished for her mother. If she was there she would have someone to not only tell her she was being ridiculous, but someone who would also offer kind words and a hug. She felt very much in need of a hug.

Finally she reached her destination. The wind had been steadily increasing in strength as she neared the folly. Her ears were very cold and she knew her cheeks must be quite pink. She wished she’d grabbed her scarf before coming out here. But it was too late for that now. Lowering herself carefully to the ground behind a pillar, she was relieved to find that it provided a break from wind. However this relief was not very long-lived. The damp chill of the stone seeped through her coat and dress into her body. An almost violent shiver ran through her, but she refrained from moving. If she just waited a few moments she would adjust.

Then there was the fact that the thought of going back to the house before she sorted herself out made her queasy.

It seemed that nothing was going to keep her from having these stupid irrational thoughts. The only thing to do was to wait them out. So, head in hands, she leaned against a pillar and allowed her thoughts free reign. It was only a matter of moments before the first tears began to fall.

The tears didn’t last very long, just long enough to release the pressure that had slowly been building within her. She still wasn’t happy and she still felt an almost overwhelming guilt, but at least she no longer felt like an exposed nerve. Pulling a handkerchief from inside her sleeve, she wiped beneath her eyes. A few more minutes of quiet reflection would be enough time to mentally prepare herself for her return to the house. If she was circuitous in her route it might also be enough time for her appearance to return to normal.

Elsie wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she heard the first tentative footstep on the stone steps behind her. Startled, she froze. No, no, no. She wasn’t ready for company. She might no longer feel like a woman on the verge of emotional collapse, but she certainly wasn’t ready to speak with anyone either.

“Mrs. Hughes?” the butler’s voice called. He hadn’t seen her yet. She sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t venture far enough into the folly to find her. She was in the middle of promising never again to indulge in such ridiculous behavior when Mr. Carson came into sight.

He turned his head to the left, his eyes lighting on her immediately. A look of relief flashed across his features before quickly transitioning to confusion. “What are you doing sitting on the ground?”

His confusion was almost enough to make her chuckle. At least he hadn’t ventured upon her while she was in tears. The poor man would have been completely at a loss for what to do. That thought did make her chuckle as she attempted to stand. Unfortunately, the cold had made her limbs stiff and her body refused to cooperate. She wavered unsteadily before falling back to the ground with a soft thud. Before she could attempt to right herself again, Mr. Carson was at her side, kneeling and offering her his hands in support. She was absolutely mortified.

“Thank you, Mr. Carson,” she said after he had helped her to stand. She could feel a fierce blush spread up from her chest, spreading across her face. Knowing that her face must be practically incandescent only served to further add to her embarrassment and thus fuel her flush. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. She brushed the back of her coat and looked down at her trembling hands to avoid his gaze. “I do apologize for appearing so undignified.”

He waved aside her apology. “Are you quite alright? How long have you been out here?” he asked softly, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. A large part of her was touched, but an even larger part of her was embarrassed.

Elsie could feel his eyes upon her and silently prayed he wouldn’t badger her into telling him what was bothering her. She couldn’t tell him. He would think her ridiculous, and that was the last thing she ever wanted. God, this was awful. Clearing her throat, she looked just over Mr. Carson’s shoulder. “Yes, perfectly. I can’t have been out here for very long.”

The last part was a bald-faced lie. She knew it, and she knew that he knew it. But he seemed content to leave her alone, at least for the moment. She nearly sagged under the weight of her relief.

Mr. Carson watched her as she readjusted her coat and gloves. “Shall we head back?”

She offered him a weak smile. “I suppose we should.”

He returned her smile and gestured for her to lead the way. She did as he bade, hoping they could walk back in companionable silence. Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t either.

She should have known better.

Several minutes passed in blissful silence. Elsie took great comfort in Mr. Carson’s presence at her side. Her shoulder bumped lightly against his arm by mistake. She shot him an apologetic look, which he answered with a small smile. They continued on.

The next bump was his, but it was no accident. Elsie could tell. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He was offering his arm. Wordlessly and without his usual grace, but he was offering all the same. Elsie’s heart skipped a beat. She wrapped her arm around his and allowed herself to be drawn closer. He was so solid and warm. And, in his own particular and often infuriating way, sweet. But he also didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” he asked a moment later, his gaze flitting to her before returning to the lawn before them.

There were many things Elsie could admit she loved about Charles Carson, but his inability to leave her be when she most wanted him to was not one of those things. She tried to formulate some sort of response that would reassure him that she was fine. The problem was she just couldn’t bring herself to do it this time. Not today, not when she felt this gnawing consuming guilt. So instead of offering paltry assurances, she remained silent.

Mr. Carson pulled her just a fraction closer. “Because you know I’m on your side. Don’t you?”

Elsie looked up into his face. “I do know that,” she said, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

He stopped walking and stared at her. She grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny, but she refused to fidget. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. He doesn’t believe you. He thinks you’re lying.

It felt like an eternity before he spoke. “I know what it is to regret a choice, Mrs. Hughes. To blame yourself for events you couldn’t possibly have predicted and which would have carried on without your involvement regardless. And Mr. Bates would very likely tell you the same thing.”

She dropped his arm and backed away. Tears welled in her eyes. This was absolutely mortifying. It only got worse when the first few tears trickled down her cheeks. Her breaths were coming in shorter and shorter gasps. Mortified at the display she was making of herself and incapable of stopping, she buried her face in her hands.

Elsie Hughes, you’ve brought this upon yourself by listening at that grate. Mam always warned you that your curiosity would bring ruin, she thought bitterly. Her shoulders shook with effort not to sob outright. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

It surprised her when Mr. Carson rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. But she couldn’t stop her stupid tears. She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t do this. It was all too much.

“It might not seem it, but you’ve done nothing wrong,” he whispered.

“I failed Mr. Bates and because of that I failed Anna,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. What else could she say at this point?

“You’ve failed no one as long as you told the truth. And I know you to be nothing if not honest.”

They stood there for several silent moments as Elsie slowly regained control over her emotions. She swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks. Sniffling, she said, “You must think me ridiculous.”

“I could never think that.”

“I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Well, I believe I should be the judge of what I think is ridiculous.” He said it with such an air of authority that it drew a short laugh from Elsie. “Ah, that’s better.”

Though it did little to improve her mood, the laughter at least allowed her to regain some of her footing. “Please forgive me, Mr. Carson. I’m so embarrassed.”

Mr. Carson let his hand fall back to his side before taking a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her. “You’ve done nothing for which you need to be embarrassed.”

She took the proffered token, using the soft linen to wipe away the last of her tears. She offered him a watery smile. “And yet I am. Please accept my apology and let us head back to the house.”

#ask meme answers #music shuffle prompts #emiline-northeto #carsonxhughes #chelsie #melodrama warning #i was in a mood today #and it was the mood to produce melodrama apparently #anyway #i highly recommend the song that inspired the melodrama #because it's pretty great

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dabistits · 5 years ago

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im super conflicted abt hawks atm but i was thinking abt his parallels with shigaraki and i was wondering kinda why there's a difference between wanting 'redemption' (i dont think this is the right word but i cant think of a better one 'want better' maybe?) for shigaraki but not for hawks? is it bc he made a permanent decision to kill twice as essentially an agent of the state?

Just to preface, I don’t think I’m objectively right for just wanting Hawks to eat shit immediately in the next chapter. I’m just complaining because a lot of people who “love both Hawks and Twice” and “think Hawks was wrong, but…” are hard to get away from without going in the other direction toward a group of people who have shitty fandom behavior, whose opinions about the Hawks/Twice situation are (unfortunately) much closer to my own. I don’t think there’s necessarily a “correct” way to feel about Hawks, but I feel differently than a lot of people I see around (who, ironically, are the ones insisting that there’s a “correct” way to feel about Hawks), and that’s frustrating. I want to be done with Hawks. I don’t want him to get any more focus in canon, I don’t want to see more posts about how Hawks committing murder is an indication of inner turmoil instead of him choosing a side, I don’t want to keep running into posts that tack on “but Hawks is also sad/a victim” in discussing what’s pretty clearly a tragedy for Jin and the LOV that Hawks was completely and 100% solely responsible for.

But, yeah, sure. I’ll also explain what I think is the difference between Tomura and Hawks:

1. Part of it is emotional and not logical for sure. I love Jin a lot. He embodies the person who has faced incredible adversity, and still comes out on the other side ready to love and open his heart to others, moreover to protect others. I’m not like that at all, but I think it’s very admirable. So in that sense, it hurts on a personal level to lose him over anyone else, and I can’t not associate that with Hawks, since he’s the killer.

2. Jin is a significant death. The nameless minions that Tomura has killed (many of whom were active “Quirk supremacists”) don’t mean anything to me compared to Jin, and?? Through the lens of narrative, I think that makes Tomura more forgivable, because I genuinely have no interest in there being any plot “resolution” with, like, the dead anti-mutant cultists, because I just do not care about them.

3. Tomura, especially early Tomura, has threatened to go places that are unforgivable, like leaving All Might’s students dead and forcibly bringing Bakugou over to their side (whatever terrible procedure that may have entailed). The difference is that the narrative never actually allowed him to cross that line by actually killing the kids, who we do care about as characters, so while the intent in itself is pretty awful, he was never allowed to complete the action that would take him over to the point of no return. Hawks, however, did cross the line by killing someone who we care about and who is narratively established as a “good person,” who even Hawks concedes is a good person.

3. a. I don’t like the MLA ideologically and I don’t like the decision to have the LOV team up with them. But, again, their takeover plan has been stopped in its tracks, which I’m actually fine with to prevent the LOV from crossing the moral event horizon, but that’s, like… completely irrelevant to me thinking Hawks shouldn’t have killed Jin.

3. b. Though there’s still a chance for Tomura to cross the moral event horizon, and I’m not going to convince myself that it won’t happen. If it’s going to happen, I think it’s highly possible that it might happen in this arc, because now Jin is dead and we know how Tomura and the LOV have historically responded to their friends getting hurt. I, and many others, have called Jin the “heart” of the LOV (his name is also literally written with the kanji for “benevolence”), and now without him, there is no remaining heart nor goodwill.

4. Although both Tomura and Hawks are, on one level, fighting on behalf of the ideals that they were “raised into,” their fights happen in very different ways. The MLA arc in particular made clear that the villains are, in part, fighting for their very survival in ways heroes just aren’t. The threat that the LOV were living under was constant—when it wasn’t heroes or other villain groups, it was trying to find money and shelter and essential upkeep. Hawks may not be “free” from the HPSC or the occasional villain attack, but he’s free from those constant material struggles. He’s not an “underdog.”

4. a. Tomura is also, in part, fighting to protect his marginalized friends. It’s for sure not on behalf of every marginalized person, but it’s certainly more than we’ve seen any pro hero fight for. The people Tomura is surrounded with are people who have never been protected nor cared for before, because they were not deemed “innocent” enough to deserve that care and protection, and Tomura continued to care for them even when it was troublesome for him to do so, when they disagreed with him, when they threatened him, and when they fucked up very, very badly.

4. a. i. Eri is an example of a victim who the heroes fought for, but she’s an easy case to want to love and protect: Overhaul was inarguably an abuser who wanted to elevate the yakuza, she was being used in extended torture-experiment sessions, she killed her father on accident, she’s a child, she’s innocent, she’s selfless, she’s well-behaved. It’s basically not even a question whether or not she “deserves” help.

4. b. It’s people who are difficult who get overlooked. Hawks and hero society are completely unprepared to protect and care for people who don’t behave as they’re supposed to. Hawks did not care for the LOV who didn’t personally befriend him. For the one he did, when Jin didn’t cooperate the way Hawks wanted, he went for the kill. It’s either being easy and “manageable,” or die.

4. b. i. Tomura has specifically spared two people who tried to kill him or actually succeeded in killing his ally, people who he explicitly hated or did not care for. So make of that what you will, I guess.

5. From a leftist perspective, it’s just impossible not to account for the fact that Hawks helps maintain a social structure that creates so much suffering. The question isn’t really whether AFO’s teachings to Tomura are better (they’re not, and I want Tomura to break away from them), but it can’t really be ignored that Hawks is enforcing an ideal that’s wildly popular. Why this matters is that Tomura doing the wrong things will be roundly condemned, and he’ll probably be “punished” for them; but heroes are very unlikely to be punished or held accountable for committing murder, especially if it’s “justified.”

5. a. This is problematic because it allows heroes, and the state, to define what a justified “emergency situation” is, and who can die in those emergencies. The people who are deemed killable “in an emergency” are usually those who are already marginalized; hence heroes can wait until those marginalized people get desperate enough to commit villainous acts, and then they can swoop in to arrest or kill them to widespread public acclaim.

5. b. Heroes (and law enforcement IRL) don’t address the roots of crime that lie in overarching oppressive structures like misogyny and capitalism. They don’t prevent theft by bringing people financial stability; they arrest people who were desperate enough to steal, and use those people to send a message to poor people everywhere. They make these conditions of desperation more permanent by punishing the most vulnerable people when they slip up, while doing absolutely nothing until the slip-up happens.

5. c. Heroes are punching down, and villains are punching up. That may not be the case with AFO, but I believe it with the LOV specifically, and I believe this matters because it’s exemplified between Hawks and Twice. Hawks targets someone who reached out to him, despite being hurt over and over again by types like him, who has dealt with poverty and fantasy mentally illness completely on his own, and kills him in defense of the very society that allowed all those things to happen to Jin. Hawks was given a choice: sympathize and relate to Jin, and acknowledge his well-founded grievances toward a dysfunctional society, or prioritize the safety and security of that dysfunctional society by permanently removing Jin from the equation. The choice he believes in is the choice he made.

5. d. In order for Tomura to make the same choice with the same implications, they’d have to be living in an alternate universe, in the Kingdom of AFO, where Tomura is a respected noble who infiltrates a rebel group who were going to “commit atrocities,” kills the one person who offered him a way out of AFO’s control, and possibly screws the rebels altogether, but everyone is happy that the rebels are gone. Even if you think Tomura is capable of that, it’s irrelevant because canon!BNHA has completely different power dynamics. Because Tomura’s violence will always be unpopular and persecuted, rather than justified and glorified by the state, he physically cannot replicate a choice like Hawks’. Tomura can approximate it, but even if he does, he’ll be hunted down by heroes for doing so. The circumstances and consequences for making such a choice are totally different.

So. That’s why I don’t think Tomura and Hawks can be equated. Suggesting that this is a level playing field is essentially believing that criminals and law enforcement exist on level playing fields, and they absolutely do not at all. Hawks is particularly abhorrent because he’s already followed through with his choice. He holds power by being part of the policing class, and regardless of how he came into it, he behaves exactly the same as everyone else who “freely” joined, and in his position of power he made the choice to eliminate someone who was socially powerless.

#ask #commentary #long post /

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 6 years ago

Text

She

Frankly, they didn’t start on the best term.

He met Y/N during a photoshoot for a certain famous magazine. She was assigned to grace the cover of said magazine with the photograph of the world’s most it couple, Harry Styles and the supermodel who gained the universal acclaim for ‘taming the baby Mick Jagger’.

It was all fun and pretty until Y/N accidentally stepped on the girlfriend’s polished toes.

“For fuck’s sake!” Harry screamed at Y/N as the supermodel girlfriend suddenly started limping her way to Harry, asking for some sort of first aid.

Y/N couldn’t stop muttering sorry, offering ice blocks, even kneeling next to the supermodel girlfriend begging for forgiveness. The creative director, the crew, the editors—the whole studio apologized countless times for the tiny slip as the girlfriend pouted, complaining about the unbearable pain, causing Harry to hit the ceiling.

He yelled at Y/N and refused to go on. Y/N, knowing her inferior position in the equation, could only look down as the apologies continuously rolled out of her tongue. To be fair, everyone in the studio (except the lovebirds, obviously) knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Y/N was capturing Harry’s solo session while the girlfriend fixed the hair and makeup. She was up next for her solo session and then it’s a wrap. Of course the photographer would move around; every supermodel should be aware of the fact that angles were plenty and it took treads to actually find the right ones. Y/N was constantly moving, camera on hand, eyes on the viewfinder, then suddenly the ‘big accident’ occurred.

Y/N was barefooted, she wouldn’t even be able to squeeze a hard turd if she ever stepped on one with that wonky heel of hers. There was no way she’d had caused the girlfriend that much pain. And nobody blamed Y/N as they all witnessed how the girlfriend walked on set with her eyes on the phone, hitting Y/N first. Nobody but the girlfriend and Harry Styles, of course. So they all just watched in silence as Harry cursed and threw a fit on innocent Y/N.

The power couple didn’t want to continue unless Y/N was replaced. The crew had to comply no matter how irrational the demand sounded. And on top of that, suddenly Y/N was plastered on the internet as the girl who assaulted the world’s biggest supermodel and Harry Styles.

She would never forget the overwhelming uneasiness caused by the sudden rave of negative reviews about her, all from people who endorsed and supported her in the first place but decided to be the footnote of the Hollywood sweethearts’ testimony: ‘awful to work with’, ‘nothing without the connection’, ‘a mediocre photographer who got lucky’, and ‘talentless’.

And she still couldn’t wrap her mind around that dreaded event. She had heard tremendous chivalry and gentlemanlike attitude when it came to Harry Styles yet somehow, he was nothing but a certified dick who put her job on the line that day. Some friends who remained loyal to her speculated that the girlfriend was the bad influence. Some even were convinced that he was voodooed. She didn’t care about either, all she believed was that he’s an absolute wretch with an extraordinarily thick mask. A media trained monkey was the term she occasionally used after a few tequila shots.

“That witch is his Yoko Ono, I tell ya,” the creative director told her during their final meeting—the meeting to let her go, of course.

She just shrugged. All she wanted was her old life back. And if Harry Styles and/or that supermodel got into some terrible misery in that comeback, that would definitely be her cherry on top.

She still got a few gigs, just not as much and definitely not with big profiles like she used to. For Pete’s sake, she was deemed a promising photographer by those fashion executives! She was only getting started. She would have never imagined that with just a short answer during a talk show’s truth or dare game—who’s the one person you’d never want to work with ever again?—the power couple could diminish her entire life’s worth of hard work.

Within the next few months, she’s back to square one. Every morning she tried to contact some old clients who would perhaps still deign to be affiliated with, according to the world’s biggest supermodel’s words on that talk show, ‘the rudest effin’ bitch I’ve ever seen in the industry’.

And after countless unsuccessful attempts, she went back to the cafe she used to work at when she’s still starting her career, not to network like she used to but to pour some coffee for other people again. She’s back with the apron and the napkin and she couldn’t stop being cynical over some hopeful youngsters who got signed right in front of her eyes, on the table she just wiped.

Her cameras were laid unused on top of her rack and the mini darkroom she built in her apartment became a storage room. Believing she had failed miserably in life, she found herself no longer had hopes on anything. All she knew was to get by the day.

It was a cold December night. Everyone else went home to celebrate the holidays so she decided to do the shift. She’d be paid double plus she wouldn’t have to face her family, which would go eerie in this state of her life, so it was the better choice.

Having had just finished cleaning the whole cafe, she put on her coat. She was ready to come home to… nothing. Her mind raced back to this time last year, where she was fully booked and couldn’t wait to come home so she could recharge herself for an exciting tomorrow. Her life had become exceptionally dull and it was painful to go on.

An abrupt banging on the door halted her train of desperate thoughts.

“We’re closed. Can’t you see the time?! It’s almost midnight!” she snarked, back facing the intruder.

“S- Sorry, love…” the hoarse voice was paused with a couple of hiccups. “‘m just completely devastated…”

She rolled her eyes as she turned around and she almost had a heart attack. There stood the man who destroyed her life, terribly wasted out of his mind. He could barely stand straight without holding onto the doorknob.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she rolled her eyes, asking some deity entity if there was ever one.

“Hey! I know yeh…” Harry tried to get to her but his legs just gave up.

Falling face first, Y/N really wanted to leave him on the street. But of course she had that little voice of reason inside her that constantly screamed, “If you abandon him, you’re nothing better than him!” She was a decent person and she really hated it this time.

“Come on up,” she pulled Harry up and lingered his arm around her shoulder to help him walk. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t k- know,” he giggled. “I can’t remember, love…”

“Try,” she slapped his arm when he almost fell off yet again.

The snow was pouring down and they stood by the empty crossroad. Harry wouldn’t even remember his own name by now and she didn’t know how to get to his house. There was no other choice than to bring him home to her place.

It was nothing short of hard work to carry a man twice her size to her house on foot since there was not even a single cab around. It was even harder to hear him tell a story about his first imaginary friend during that wobbly trip where he tumbled more than five times and she had to pick him up every time. But it was the hardest when she had to take off his shoes so it wouldn’t mess with her couch—he didn’t want to take it off, nagging her with numerous ‘Go away, Mum!’s.

When she finally got to lay on her bed, she was too tired to even think of what just happened. She literally did some cardio workout bringing Harry home safe so unlike her usual nights, she fell asleep quite fast this time.

It was around four in the morning when she felt a body of weight sunk into her side. She turned around to face his uninvited guest sound asleep, legs tangled over hers like a knot. She quietly removed her legs and tried to get up. She needed to move to the couch, or anywhere far away from this invader.

This is my fucking house, why am I the one sleeping outside, she thought to herself. Anger boiling at the top of her head as her movement was stopped by his strong hand.

“Stay here…” he slurs.

He didn’t seem conscious to her. Maybe he mistook her as his girlfriend.

“I’m not—“

“I know,” he cut her off while still sleeping. “Just stay here for a while. It’s cold out there.”

She sighed and laid back down. Stiff and uncomfortable, but obviously exhausted, she closed her eyes as Harry’s arm pulled her closer to him. She could only hope the night would soon end or better yet, this was all not real.

When Harry woke up, he found a sticky note on his forehead.

‘You were hammered last night, didn’t know where you live so I took you home. Nothing happened, you just sorta burst into where I work around midnight so I kind of had to not abandon you. Don’t make yourself at home because this is my home.’

He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting blind drunk after gulping those spirit shots but what happened after that was redacted. His surrounding was unfamiliar and there was no other sign of life other than him that morning.

After splashing his face with cold water, he looked around the apartment. It was modest but very personal. There were random film rolls hung by the ceiling as Harry made his way to the living room. He put on his shoes by the couch as he observed the vinyl shelf at the corner of the room. It was filled with 60s-70s biggest musicians, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Morrison—which grew his curiosity of the owner. There were books that he also read, and the series of psychedelic photographs framed by the doorway was the biggest tic that made him wonder: how did he end up in this hippie’s safe haven, one that he actually wanted to live in when he was young? Did he get so hammered that he traveled back in time? His head hurt too bad to even think of the possibilities, all he knew was there was something about the owner that felt familiar and he ought to know them. He had to.

Harry rushed to shower at his home and got some aspirin. After running some overdue errands, he immediately went back to the apartment. He knocked on the door a few times to no avail so he decided to wait by his car outside.

Y/N was relieved when there was no sign of Harry when she got home that night. She would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit worried of him considering he could absolutely die that night if he went to the wrong place, but then again he was the guy who ended her career so she couldn’t care less.

She picked Nick Drake’s Pink Moon from her vinyl collection and put it on the turntable. Relaxing by the couch that still reeked of alcohol and him, she ignored the constant knock on the door. It was usually her crazy neighbor looking for his nonexistent cat.

It was the sixth track that she finally got up and opened the door, hoping to end the annoyance of her peaceful evening.

Her eyes bugged out when she saw the figure by her door. It was him again.

Harry, with his furrowed eyebrows and lanky feet, looked just as surprised as she was. He clearly remembered who she was and somehow, not even Nick Drake’s soothing voice could calm her down. Filled with rage, she slammed the door right in front of his face.

Harry was shocked to see her. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever meet her again, moreover lodged by her. He wanted to thank her but he knew she’d probably throw a glass of water to his face. But he could not just leave.

So he did the tackiest trick in the book. When the track from behind the closed door hit Free Ride, one of his favourites, he began singing along as loud as possible. Some neighbors shushed him, some even scolded him but he didn’t stop.

She heard him loud and clear. She ignored him at first, but then she received a noise complaint call from the super. Upset, she thumped her way towards the door.

“Stop it!” she gritted her teeth as she opened it.

He stopped. “May I come in?”

“What do you want?” she barked.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” he muttered low.

“You’re welcome. There,” she slammed the door again.

There was nothing he could do so he decided to leave for now.

He came again the next day, this time saying there was something he needed to give back to her.

“What now?” she wasn’t as upset as the day before, but was still unfriendly as they just stood by the door leaf.

Harry handed her the sticky note she left on his forehead the day before.

“You can keep it,” she said as she closed the door.

No slamming door. A progress, Harry thought.

He came back again two days after that, carrying a limited release Fleetwood Mac record signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

“Got Stevie to sign it. They don’t have this at the stores anymore,” he presented it as if he was doing some product placement scene.

“Look, Harry Styles,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what the hell do you want from me but I really don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“Yes, about that…” Harry scratched his forehead. “’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she pushed the door but Harry was quick to hold it open.

“I’d help you make things right again,” his green eyes were desperate for her answer.

She let out a heavy sigh and moved aside as if cuing him to enter her little bubble. Harry entered immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in the outside world.

She was listening to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, to which Harry sang along gently. She could hate him all she wanted but he really sounded divine especially within close proximity.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, anyway?” she sat on the far end of the couch.

He put the record on the coffee table. “Where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Some talk show to say some shit about me with the girlfriend perhaps?”

“Look ‘m really sorry, I truly am,” he sighed. “And ‘m not with her anymore…”

He then explained everything. How he fell in love for the first time in his life with the supermodel who was perfect, beautiful, smart, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. How he was so sure of her but she didn’t feel the same so he tried to show it with everything he’s got—grand romantic gestures, going public (which was personally hard for him since he was a very private person), and siding with her on every kind of problem even if it meant hauling over an innocent photographer’s coals. He also explained how he felt awful most of the time since he’d changed so much for a person who didn’t even love him back and he began to feel lost. It all then culminated a couple nights ago when she decided that it was all still not enough and broke up with him over a phone call. That’s when he went crazy with the liquor and ended up wandering around.

She felt sorry for him and although she knew he could be lying, she could understand his pain. So, she decided to accept his apology. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for her but at least she wouldn’t have to carry around so much hatred in her life and he could also move on with his life, not haunted by the guilt.

He promised to help her gain her reputation back. The two planned to make some exclusive photoshoot of Harry himself.

They began meeting every now and then. At first, they would talk about all things professional and did photoshoots. She started receiving positive feedbacks especially after Harry gave her the shoutouts—it didn’t take a split second for his loyal fans to swarm her online profiles. With her raising popularity she started getting bigger gigs again, even bigger than her old gigs. She quit working at the cafe and her darkroom was occupied yet again.

Then, they would spend even more time together. He would make up excuses to meet with her, like he needed to see how she developed her rolls or coming by with a batch of eggs saying he was worried she ran out of eggs. Y/N knew Harry was just feeling lonely after the breakup so she always let him in. Nobody wants to hurt alone, she always thought.

He soon didn’t need any more excuses as he had become an extended roommate of hers. He always said he wanted to live in the 70s and her apartment was like a dream home for him. She just brushed it off, saying it’s because of her hidden interior designing talent. And with each passing day, as they grew closer, her hatred dissipated and was replaced with something strange yet pleasant inside her heart.

She learned the depths of him that no one else knew and it all became the little things only she understood. She felt privileged to gain the limited access.

Sometimes he’d show her the sneak peak of his newest song and she would give notes as she watered the many plants around her place. Sometimes they would play board games while discussing the possibility of living on Mars. Some other times, Harry would lay his head on her legs, not saying a word while Karen Dalton’s magnificent voice filled the air.

Her favourite moment with him had to be when they did the impromptu picnic under the stars. With a bottle of cheap wine, portable turntable, and shared blanket, they laid by the garden as they talked about their fears and desires. That was the first time in such a long time she could open up to someone and he said that made him feel so special.

Of course he was special to her. That’s why she still tiptoed around him from time to time, avoiding conversations like her love life because she didn’t want him to think that she’d like him when actually the growing feelings inside her heart had begun to suffocate her.

The way he spontaneously baked for her (and snobbishly told the infamous ‘I was a baker’ story), the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his eyes sparked when they were dancing around, the way he snored a little when he’s sleeping, the way he called her name—she wanted to just sink herself into his warmth and never let go.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt the same way too. The frequency of the supermodel’s name mentioned in their conversations has since reduced to almost never, but she still felt a sting in her heart as she knew she could never replace her. She was, after all, his first love. And don’t get her started on the physical prowess which she obviously lacked in compared to the supermodel. She didn’t dare to ask Harry whether he’s really forgotten about her, afraid that he’d find out her true feelings for him. So she remained the same. At least, he would be still by her side.

At least, there would never be any rejections.

The city was already blossoming when she realized that Harry had left traces of himself on every corner of her place. The hung film rolls were filled with his silly expressions, so was the polaroid collections stuck on her walls. He had installed a pile of pants by the corner of her living room so that he didn’t have to bring any change. And of course her bathroom now had a pair of tooth brushes. It rocketed her hopes but still, her doubts crept inside her mind every so often.

That lazy Saturday night, she went home from grocery shopping to find Harry asleep on her couch. He looked so soft and warm and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his smooth hair. She nervously came closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead.

She got up immediately, afraid to wake him up. To her surprise, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What was that for, love?” he asked.

He didn’t even have the bed face he usually had, which led her to believe that he wasn’t really asleep.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” she pulled away.

Harry stood up just as fast and within seconds, he wrapped her in his hug. He placed a kiss on top of her head and slowly traveled down to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. His lips roamed over hers as he slowly pressed them. It wasn’t heated and full of lust but rather deep and passionate as if he was taking his time.

It didn’t take long before they made their way to the bedroom and undressed each other with no rush. There was no spoken words, no roughness, just two people tangled up in heated infatuation.

When she woke up, he was still there. And it was beautiful.

It was still beautiful the next few months when they became a couple. He was her world and everything else was just background noise. He made her feel like the only person that mattered, as if everything that happened before ‘them’ was unreal. That this was the only real thing and it was all too good to be true.

Y/N should know better though, that life came just like a full circle. She just didn’t expect to actually be put back into the circle so soon.

They were invited to an afterparty of a fashion line Harry was strongly tied to and Y/N was more than proud to be by his side when he was introduced to be the muse that season. He was having the time of his life and so was she. The two held hands the entire time as they talked to everyone.

The belle of the ball, Harry himself seemed overwhelmed with the amount of love he received. He occasionally pressed her hand a little tighter when he was nervous, to which she’d respond with stroking his hand with her thumb. The simplest gestures that they’d developed overtime as they grew accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies or as Harry said, the good stuff about you.

That was until he saw a glimpse of her in the middle of the crowd that he suddenly let go of Y/N’s hand as if he was afraid that she would see him with Y/N. It would have been a little over a year since she last saw the supermodel and almost a year since Harry last met her.

All this time, Harry constantly convinced her that her insecurities over his love was nothing, that he only wanted her. And yet, he never even said those three words to her.

She knew now why he never did.

All this time, it wasn’t doubt that kept haunting her. It was a hunch.

The music was blasting but for Y/N, everything was silence. It only took a few seconds before she realized the look in Harry’s eyes. As if it was never truly her his eyes set on. That she was just a company to pass time. That she was the one he wanted just never loved.

She was never the one.

She tried to grab his hand before he’d be gone for good, and could only let out a faint ‘Please, don’t.’

But he could only mutter a little ‘Sorry.’ as he let go of her grasp and made his way through the crowd, trying to get to her, while leaving Y/N drowning in the sea of human who celebrated the man that she loved.

Part two.

Part three.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #tinayoufatlarrdd #harry styles fanfic

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