#i banged my elbow really hard earlier and now 12 hours later

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

.,

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 1 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort level, and Gene’s libido, this situation must be rectified. Sexswap fic.

Notes: This has been on the backburner pretty much since the quarantine started. I really wrestled with posting it at all since it’s a weird premise, and most of my fics have a more realistic bent, but I decided that if it perked me up while working remotely, eating ramen, and feeling like I was back in uni in all the worst ways (when was I in uni? why, during the Great Recession!)-- then maybe it’d perk someone else up, too. So here we are.

           Gene really didn’t think too much of it at first when Paul vanished just after the tour. He didn’t take it personally, the way Peter did, and he didn’t get too quizzical about it like Ace did. The whole band was burnt-out on each other. The days where they had to share hotel rooms were gone, and the days where they wanted to share vacations were gone, too. Gene couldn’t pinpoint when it had gotten like that, and it made him a little regretful, sure, but it was just another inevitability. The Beatles had made it ten years before imploding, all those hurt egos just smushing together and screwing everything up. KISS had four years under its belt now, and already he could feel things faltering.

           So maybe Paul was trying to ease all that via his disappearing act. Spend his tour break at home, probably with a bevy of girls lining up at his front porch, and come back refreshed and ready for another nine-month stretch with only a wall between him and his bandmates, assuming Ace and Peter didn’t tear a hole in it on a drunken whim. It made sense. The first time Paul didn’t return his phone call (the tinny sound of his $400 answering machine the only response), Gene wasn’t concerned. The second time, Gene assumed Paul had gone to a disco, or was spending the night at some chick’s house. The third time, Gene immediately called up Bill, who said he hadn’t heard from Paul, either.

           That was cause for concern. Paul could, and did, blow off anybody but their manager. Still, Gene figured he’d give it one more day, and one more lay, before he started to investigate.

           That was the plan, until he got his mail late one morning. There was always a fat stack of it. The actual sackfuls of fan mail would end up at some office, where a poor secretary was stuck stuffing envelopes with their pictures and a canned response. Sometimes a real sleuth would find his address, and he’d open those out of sheer novelty, when he had the chance, only to be disappointed when the writer turned out to be a twelve-year-old who’d spent his paper route money on several books of stamps, and mailed the same letter out to every Gene Simmons in the greater New York phone book. Every so often he’d get the good stuff, like a saucy letter from a college girl, with photos and pubic hair taped inside. “See you next time in Sacramento.” He never wrote them back, but he’d put the photos in a separate album from his conquests. Almost a hope chest of photos, there.

           Gene thumbed through the newsletters and errant bills so quickly he nearly missed it. A glossy postcard, with Buckingham Palace on the front. It couldn’t have been a piece of fan mail, but he didn’t know anyone who’d bother writing him, either. He flipped it over out of curiosity. Weird.

           He recognized the scratchy longhand before he got to the signature. Not that it took long. Thee address was almost lengthier than the postcard message.

           “Gene—Do you know anything about curses? Write me back soon. Thanks, Paul.”

--

           He called up Peter about it that afternoon, still baffled. He didn’t really think Peter would have any insight on it—Paul and Peter hadn’t been as close as they used to be, though that went for everyone—but he surprised him.

“I haven’t heard from him. I figured you had.” Peter was chewing gum as he spoke. Gene could hear the smacks through the receiver. “Why the fuck would he send you a postcard? You live closer to him than I do.”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“Talking about curses…” Peter trailed. “Shit, I went over there last week. Didn’t call him up first, just thought I’d go over like I used to. I banged on the door and some chick came out and screamed at me to go away. I told her who I was and she just stared at me.”

           “Paul doesn’t pick girls for brains.”

           “It was kinda weird, though. Picky bastard usually gets blondes.”

           “What, was she a brunette?”

           “Yeah, real dark, curly hair—you don’t think he’s shacked up with her, do you? Some New Age type, turning him on to something funny? ’Cause he doesn’t usually want ’em sticking around, either, and I stopped by after lunch…”

           Evidently, Peter paid more attention to Paul’s habits with girls than Gene ever had.

“I don’t know. Was she cute?”

“Yeah. She had nice tits.”

           Of course she did. Gene rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

           “I’m gonna look into this. I’ll let you know if I can’t get in touch with him.”

           “Sure.” There was a slight hesitation. “Hey, thanks for calling me. I thought he was pissed at me or some shit. But I guess he’s pissed at everybody.”

           Gene privately feared it was worse than that. If Paul had gotten a girlfriend, one serious enough he was ignoring everyone and everything else, even the looming tour, for her sake… well, that didn’t make sense, not unless she’d conned him into something. There were still plenty of cults and communes all over the place, the leftover remnants of disillusioned hippies. They’d join fringe churches or create their own religions and live in tents on the side of the road. He didn’t think Paul would have fallen into something like that, unless the girl had spruced it up with a bunch of psychobabble and talk therapy. Paul dug astrology and self-help, but it wasn’t something he’d trade his lifestyle for. Was it?

           “I’ll find out. I’ll see you, Pete.”

           He hung up, then dialed his chauffeur. An hour or so later, he was pulling up to Paul’s.

--

           He told the chauffeur not to wait on him. If Paul was at his house, he’d make him drive him back. It turned out they weren’t Paul’s only visitors. Ahead of them, walking up the driveway, was a kid carrying two grocery bags, his bicycle parked in the grass.

           Gene didn’t normally have an issue making his presence known. But he held back, curious. He wanted to see who would open the door—that supposed live-in girlfriend, some other chick, or Paul himself. As the chauffeur drove away, he hung back a bit, tucking himself behind a tree at the edge of the front of the house, near the front porch. The kid didn’t seem to notice.

           He watched the kid—he was probably about eleven—ring the doorbell with his elbow. After a couple seconds, the door opened, a girl in a blue bathrobe walking out, shutting the door behind her. Gene recognized the bathrobe as one of Paul’s, though she filled it out better than he ever had. She wasn’t even wearing anything beneath it that he could tell, cleavage obvious, the loosely-tied bathrobe hiding none of it. Curly, dark hair—Gene wondered if this was the girlfriend, or bedmate, that Peter had seen earlier. No telling.

           “How much was it?” she asked the kid.

           “Eight twenty-five.”

           “You have the receipt?”

           The kid pulled out the receipt. The girl looked at it, nodded, then took a wallet from the pocket of Paul’s bathrobe, tugging out a couple bills.

           “Here’s nine. Keep the change.”

           “Thanks.” The kid paused. “I thought somebody famous was supposed to live here.”

            “You thought wrong.” The girl took the two bags of groceries and turned back towards the door, trying to use her elbow to turn the knob. The kid was already back on his bicycle. As he kicked the stand up, he called back out to her over his shoulder.

           “Hey, you gonna need groceries next week, too?”

           “I hope not.” She set both bags on the front porch. The kid nodded, waving as he started down the driveway. The girl didn’t wave back, busy opening the door.

           Now was Gene’s chance. He stepped out from behind the tree and walked to the front porch as the girl picked up one of the grocery bags again.

           “Hey.”

           She turned around immediately. Her eyes got big.

           “Shit—Gene!”

           She recognized him. That didn’t narrow it down. She looked familiar, somehow—she wasn’t a Playmate, Gene always recognized those—maybe a model, or a groupie? But Paul didn’t bring those home. Gene raised a finger to his mouth.

           “Shh. Look, I’m here to see Paul. Is he in?”

           “Wh—no. No, sorry.” A tense, quick smile. Definitely not a model. Only Ali MacGraw could manage to make it with crooked teeth.

           “Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

           “I have no idea. I don’t know where he is.”

           “So he just left you over here?”

           The girl set the bag down, folding her arms. Something about the mannerism made an eerie feeling prickle down the back of Gene’s spine.

“Are you telling me I can’t be here?”

           “No!�� Gene pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t care who he’s with. But we’re supposed to go back on tour in a couple weeks and—”

           “I know!”

           “That’s great. So maybe it might be nice to know where he is beforehand.”

           The girl bristled.

           “I told you, I have no idea! I just—can’t you leave me alone?”

           “You’re living in his house, wearing his bathrobe—that wasn’t even your wallet, was it?”

           “Hey!”

           Gene scrambled for it. The girl was fairly tall; he probably only had about five or six inches on her, but she wasn’t quick. He grabbed her shoulder with one hand, then jammed his other hand into the bathrobe’s pocket, starting to tug the wallet out. She clenched his arm, nails digging in roughly, not nearly hard enough for him to drop the wallet.

           “Stop it! Let go of me, you goddamn idiot!”

           She shoved forward, stomping on his foot. Gene couldn’t feel that much of an impact, given the thickness of his boots. He kept a grip on her shoulder as he got the wallet fully in hand, opening it up as she screamed at him.

           “You don’t understand, Gene! It’s not what you’re thinking!”

           Unsurprisingly, Paul’s driver’s license photo was the first thing staring back at him from the see-through plastic card slot. Eisen, Stanley B. (God, the guy still hadn’t legally gotten his name changed) printed across it. Beyond the license was a handful of credit and business cards, as if Gene really needed to thumb through them for any further confirmation.

           “You stole his wallet.”

           “I didn’t steal it!”

           She had a lisp, Gene noticed out of nowhere.

          “Like hell you didn’t. Where is he?”

           “I told you, I don’t—”

           She jerked back abruptly, digging her nails deeper into his arm. He didn’t let go, but his hand shifted, accidentally yanking the bathrobe down at the shoulder. The girl’s eyes got huge. One of her breasts was exposed, which would’ve been plenty distracting enough, under normal circumstances, but for once, Gene’s eyes went to her bare shoulder first.

           More specifically, the rose tattoo on her bare shoulder.

           It wasn’t possible. It had to be a coincidence. He only saw the tattoo for a second at best, before she smacked his hand away and yanked the bathrobe back into place, covering her shoulder.

           It didn’t prove anything. But in a nice, W.A.S.P.y neighborhood like Paul’s, how many chicks had tattoos? And how many would have one like that, a Lyle Tuttle tattoo, when Lyle’s shop was clear across the country?

           She looked pissed-off. Scared, too. Something about the tight, sour way her lips were pressed together seemed weirdly familiar. The way she was acting didn’t add up. She’d called him by his first name on automatic. No deference or starry-eyed behavior. This girl didn’t give a damn about him being a rockstar. Those caustic responses made it come off like—like she really knew him.

That prickly feeling down his spine was only getting worse, even as he tried to dismiss it as impossible. If Gene was right, what he was about to do was incredibly cruel. If he was wrong, he’d just owe Paul Stanley’s latest chick a sincere apology. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

           But he had to know. He let go of the bathrobe and quickly shoved his hand through the girl’s tangled, curly hair, starting just at the temple, lifting it up to fully expose the right side of her face. The abject horror in her dark brown eyes might have been confirmation all on its own, but the damage was already done. He’d already pushed back enough of her hair to see what he’d only ever been told about before.

“Gene, y-you fucking asshole!”

Not an inch past one wispy sideburn was a stub of cartilage where her right ear should have been.

           He wasn’t dealing with Paul’s girl of the duration. He was dealing with Paul.

[fallintosanity]

four dudes on a camping trip with very limited funds, sharing tents, campers, and hotel rooms, is gonna lead to some Awkward(tm) situations

those situations are a lot funnier ten years later when you’re telling the story to someone else

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16

By the time they got to the little metal shed, Prompto was sweating under his borrowed wool mantle, and he was pretty sure he was starting to get a sunburn. Or heatstroke. His head ached from the heat and his throat was painfully dry, and he reached for the door of the shed, hoping to get inside and away from the relentless sun. 

But Future Prompto beat him to it, catching him by the shoulder and pulling him away. “Hang on,” he said, then banged hard on the metal wall beside the door. The sound rang across the desert and Prompto flinched, but his future self leaned in closer, his eyes unfocusing as he listened for something inside. Finally Future Prompto nodded, mostly to himself, and shoved open the door. “C’mon.”

“What was that about?” Prompto asked as he followed his adult self into the shed. The interior was dark after the unforgiving glare of the desert sun; the only light came from the sunlight leaking around the edges of the door and through a single dirt-crusted skylight in the middle of the ceiling. Squinting, he could just make out a hand pump in one corner and a narrow pipe on the wall behind it, capped with a calcium-encrusted showerhead. The floor was hard concrete, slanted unevenly inward to a rusted drain in the center. 

“Voretooths,” Future Prompto said. He pointed up toward the ceiling, to uneven gaps where the metal walls didn’t quite connect with the slanted roof. “I’ve never been sure if those holes are supposed to be for ventilation or if it’s just bad construction, but voretooths can sometimes wiggle through ‘em. They can smell the water in here. But once they’re in, they’re too dumb to get back out. Learned that the hard way the first time I opened the door and got jumped.” 

He grinned, as though getting jumped by freaking wild animals was amusing. Prompto stared at him. His future self’s grin widened and he thumped Prompto lightly on the shoulder. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Really.” 

Prompto glared at him. “Getting mauled by voretooths isn’t bad?” 

Future Prompto made fingerguns and mimed shooting something in the face, then blew imaginary smoke from his fingertips. “Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “You’ll get used to it.” 

Prompto was still trying to come up with a response to that which wasn’t sputtering indignation or screaming horror - really? Get used to being attacked by monsters? - when his future self squatted beside the hand pump and gave it a cursory once-over. “Good to go,” he pronounced. “I’ll take first shower, unless you want it. First has better water pressure, second’s usually cooler ‘cause the water’s coming up from deeper.” 

“Sure,” Prompto said. Cooler water sounded great. He’d been hoping for some relief from the heat inside the shed, but while they were out of the direct sunlight, it somehow felt even hotter inside. The air was heavy and still, difficult to draw into his lungs, and sweat was pooling in all the hollows of his bones. At least outside there’d been a light breeze to draw the heat away from his skin.

Future Prompto started working the pump, throwing his whole body into the first few motions until water began spurting from the faucet and the handle started to move on its own as the water pressure took over. When the stream had steadied into a constant flow, Future Prompto fiddled with a couple of turn handles on the side, and the flow diverted from the pump faucet up to the showerhead on the wall, spraying the center of the shed with water. Prompto hopped back out of range, while his future self stripped off his Kingsglaive jacket, gloves, and vest, plus the black undershirt beneath. Without bothering to remove his pants or boots, Future Prompto leaned forward into the spray, eyes closed against the water. 

Prompto took the moment to study his adult self. Lean muscle rippled through his shoulders and arms, under skin even more sickly pale than that of his face. Scars marked his torso: a thin line along the top of his right shoulder; four jagged parallel lines that were obviously and horrifyingly claw marks curving around his left hip to vanish beneath the waistband of his pants; and a single round scar, roughly the size of a grape, just under his left shoulder blade. Without the gloves and jacket, his own barcode tattoo was clearly visible on his wrist, the black ink unfading, as vivid as it had been for as long as Prompto could remember. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Future Prompto remarked as he straightened out of the spray, shaking his head and sending water flying around the shed, “I missed the sun like fuck these last ten years, but boy did I forget how hot it gets in Leide in the daylight.” He turned to face Prompto, absently snagging his vest from where he’d draped it over the pump and using it to wipe his face dry. 

Given how scarred his back was, Prompto had half-expected to see more scars on his chest and stomach, but to his surprise there was only one: a small round rough patch on his left pec, directly opposite the grape-sized scar on his back, right over his… 

Prompto blinked, his stomach plummeting. 

Right over his future self’s heart.

The little round scar on his back wasn’t the size of a grape. It was the size of a bullet. 

“That’s…” he whispered. 

Noticing the direction of his gaze, Future Prompto glanced down at his own chest and flinched, his expression darkening. His left hand rose to wrap around his right wrist, over the barcode. “That’s how I learned never to turn my back on anyone,” he said softly. “Even people I thought were my friends.” 

He’d said earlier that everyone knew about the barcode, what it meant, but he hadn’t said someone had—Prompto’s stomach roiled and he leaned forward, curling his arms around himself as everything from the last twenty-four hours hit him in a sudden awful rush. 

Yesterday he’d been nothing more than the weird kid at school with a passion for photography, a tattoo he couldn’t explain, and the friendship of the Crown Prince. Now he’d been kidnapped by daemons, rescued, and swept outside the safety of the Wall by his future self. He’d learned he was an inhuman freak, a lab experiment meant to be turned into a daemon and harvested to power MTs. Such an empty little thing, Izunia had said last night. Prompto wasn’t a person, but an enemy weapon, something to be exterminated with a bullet to the heart. Someone had tried on his future self. Someone supposedly his friend. I’m surprised you care. There are so many more where it came from.  

The panic attack Prompto had managed to stave off last night roared back in full force and he staggered, would have fallen except his adult self caught him and held him up. He buried his face against Future Prompto’s shoulder, shaking, wanting to scream except he couldn’t get enough air. “I can’t—I’m not—I—” he gasped, and the words snapped something inside him and he wailed, “I want to go home!”    

His adult self didn’t answer, but the arms wrapped around him tightened. He didn’t need his future self to tell him he couldn’t go home, not anymore. Even if Prompto returned to his house, it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

They stood there for several minutes, until Prompto’s sobs eased and he was able to stand on his own again. He scrubbed an arm over his face, acutely aware of how much of a mess he was and feeling all the worse for it. Noctis would never break down like this. Ignis and Gladio would probably laugh at Prompto if they saw him right now. He’d always been worthless and this just proved it. 

Future Prompto, though, just nudged him toward the still-running shower. “Water’s safe to drink, if you want,” he said gently. 

Prompto hiccupped, nodded. Cupped his hands under the spray and splashed his face with water, then filled his palms for a drink. The water was cold on his skin, soothing to his parched throat, and he stuck his head directly into the spray and drank until he felt slightly less like a disaster.

When he came up for air, his adult self said, “It sucks. Not gonna pretend otherwise. But… there’s still a few good people out there. And Noctis needs you.” 

Prompto shuddered. “I’m not anyone,” he whispered. I’m not even human, apparently, and he didn’t have to say it; saw the thought reflected in his adult self’s eyes. “Why me?” 

Future Prompto gave a soft, strange little laugh, turning away to stare up out through the dirty skylight. “He told me once he doesn’t make time for any old loser. I guess if the Crown Prince - the King - says you’re good enough, you are. No matter what anyone else thinks.” 

Prompto opened his mouth and closed it again, not sure what to say to that. His adult self looked down again, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, and jerked his chin at the shower. “Better take that shower before the well runs dry,” he said. 

“...right,” Prompto whispered. He shivered again, not from cold - it was still baking hot in the little shed - but from all the emotions pounding beneath his skin. Pull yourself together, he thought. “Yeah, okay.” 

Blue crystals sparkled in Future Prompto’s hand, forming into a bar of soap he tossed to Prompto. “I’ll dig up some clothes, too, when you're done.”

“Thanks,” Prompto managed. He started to tug the wool mantle from his shoulders, then stopped, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. Logically, there was no reason to be embarrassed to strip down in front of his adult self - there was literally nothing about his body Future Prompto hadn't already seen. But while Prompto wasn't fat anymore, he wasn't much happier with his knobby knees and bony elbows, and still had no desire to be naked in front of anyone. He looked back at his adult self - but Future Prompto had already turned around, humming under his breath and bobbing his head as he pulled on his black undershirt. Prompto almost laughed. Of course his future self would know he was uncomfortable. 

Well, Prompto could at least try not to make a bigger inconvenience of himself than he already had. He stripped off the mantle, his borrowed boots, and then his pajama pants, draping them over the pipes as Future Prompto had done earlier, and stepped into the water. The cold felt good on his overheated skin, washing away the tears on his face and easing the puffiness of his eyes. The soap smelled harsh and utilitarian, but worked just fine, and Prompto scrubbed off the dirt and blood from last night. The bruises on his torso were already a spectacular riot of purple, black, and blue; he could clearly see the imprint of the hand of the daemon that had carried him.

He didn't want to know if there was a bruise in the shape of Ardyn Izunia’s hand on his throat.

The water pressure had faded to a trickle by the time he finished. He eyed the pump, trying to guess how to turn it off properly, but his future self saved him. “I got that,” he said. “Gotta refill the water bottles anyway, or Iggy’ll kick my ass.” He crouched beside the pump, fiddling with the dials again until the water came out of the faucet instead of the showerhead, and began filling Kingsglaive-issue bottles he pulled from the armory. 

While he did that, Prompto stepped off to the side and tried to scrape the remaining water from his body with his hands. Without a towel, it didn't work well, and eventually he gave up and just shook himself, then squeezed the water out of his hair. For a couple of seconds he almost felt cool despite the shed’s oppressive heat, as the bone-dry desert air evaporated the last of the moisture from his skin. 

“Here,” Future Prompto said, and Prompto turned to see him holding out a bundle of tan and red cloth, though he was still looking away. “They’ll be a little big, but workable. The underwear’s clean, I promise,” he added. “Trust me, you don't want to go commando in those pants in this desert. I have no idea how Gladio stands it.”

Prompto nearly dropped the clothes into the water pooled on the floor. “You—Ugh!” he sputtered. “That’s more than I ever wanted to know about Gladio. Why do you know that?!”

“We lived in each other's pockets for a few months after the Crown City fell,” his future self said with a shrug. “You learn a lot about each other doing that.”

Prompto yanked on the clothes as fast as he could, trying very hard not to think about the fact that it was someone else's underwear. Was it really someone else if that someone was him in the future? “You guys know about this thing called ‘privacy’, don’t you?” he asked.

His adult self laughed. “Oh, we know. You learn real fucking quick to knock before entering the tent or hotel room if you aren't one hundred percent positive where everyone else is. Even if you think you are one hundred percent positive.”

It took a second for Prompto to realize what he meant. “Titan’s balls, dude!” he swore. “That’s so wrong!”

Future Prompto waggled his eyebrows. “Not Titan’s balls.”

“Ew!” Prompto buried his face in his hands. “That is more than I want to know about any of them.”

“Get used to it,” Future Prompto said loftily. “You make friends with the Crown Prince and his retainers, you get to learn all about the royal… assets.”

“My future self hates me,” Prompto announced dramatically, hauling his borrowed boots back on - though the protest was somewhat weakened by the fact that Future Prompto had included socks with the bundle of clothes so Prompto wasn’t barefoot inside the combat boots anymore. “You’re trying to kill me with embarrassment.” 

“C’mon,” Future Prompto protested. “I can give you all kinds of dirt on the guys. Did you know Ignis shaves his—”

Prompto clapped his hands over his ears. “No, I don’t, and I don’t want to!” 

“You sure? It’s good blackmail material next time you want to get Iggy to go to Kenny Crow’s instead of making stew for the hundredth time—” 

“I'm leaving now,” Prompto announced. He scooped up his pajama pants and the borrowed mantle and stomped out the door without waiting for a response. “You're disgusting.” The brilliant sunlight blinded him and he flinched back before catching his balance. 

Future Prompto followed, eyes sparkling, until the sun hit his face and he actually stumbled against the doorframe. “Ow. Sunlight. Right.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and blinked a few times, then set out toward the haven. “Okay, here’s one that’s safer for your tender virgin ears—”

“Ugh!”

“Did you know Gladio can sing?” Future Prompto said. “And I don’t just mean carry a tune - guy has pipes. If he hadn’t decided to be Noct’s Shield he could’ve been a headliner at the Altissia Opera House.” 

“Seriously?” Prompto asked in surprise. He didn’t know Gladio all that well yet, not nearly as well as his future self clearly did. Gladio had started accompanying Noct everywhere last year, as part of taking on full-time Shield duties when he turned twenty, but stayed in the background and didn’t talk much around Prompto. Prompto’d thought it was because Gladio disapproved of the Crown Prince’s friendship with a nobody. 

“Seriously,” Future Prompto confirmed. “Get a little beer in him and he’ll break your heart with the best rendition of ‘Every Day Gone By’ from Beloved you’ve ever heard. A few years back, he was visiting Hammerhead when this group of hunters passed through. One of ‘em was an ex-opera singer, and someone talked her and Gladio into doing some fancy piece from this two hundred-year-old opera. My Altissian’s not good enough to understand the lyrics, but they sounded fucking incredible.” 

“...Okay, that’s pretty cool actually,” Prompto admitted. 

“Told ya.” His adult self grinned. “There was this other time, shit, way back in Insomnia. Probably would’ve been this summer for you. Me ‘n Noct were out at the arcade, and Gladio was tagging along ‘cause, y’know, Shield, and…” He kept talking, telling stories about first Gladio and then Ignis and Noctis as they made their way across the desert, and by the time they reached the haven, Prompto was laughing. The horrors of his origin and what had happened to his future self still sat like iron weights at the back of his thoughts, but he could face the others now without risking another breakdown.

[brokemultidotexe]

Unexpected Pt.14

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You never expected your trip to Seoul to end up like it does. You didn’t expect to step off the plane and have coffee pour down your shirt. You also didn’t expect the guy to offer to show you around the city. You notice things about him that don’t quite make sense, like how he shows interest but will only see you when he has the time which is at random hours during the day and night. Who knew your only friend in Seoul would turn out to be an international star and just how difficult things could get.

Word Count: 4k

Warning: None

Genre: Romance/Friendship

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 6.5 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 10.5 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 14.5 |

You looked at the building and then back at your phone making sure that you had the correct place. JK had begged you to come to one of their tapings of some weekly series they did. He had sent you the address and you had given it to the Uber driver, but now you were second guessing the address since you were standing in front of something that looked almost like a small warehouse. You pulled out your phone and decided that calling him would be the better option before letting the driver leave. You put up a finger to ask him for a second and you dialed JK’s number.

“Hello beautiful, are you here?”

Your face flushed, “Umm. I think so? Does it look almost like a warehouse?”

“Yup! I’ll meet you at the big red door to let you in.” he hung up and you put your phone away and gave the driver a thumbs up and he pulled away leaving you there and hoping that JK was telling the truth and you were in the right spot. You saw a door open on the side of the building and a mop of brown hair appeared around the side of the door. He waved you over signaling you to follow him inside.

Once you got to the door he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into a hug and dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. It seemed to be a normal occurrence now, so you didn’t become as flustered like you did in the beginning. But there was no denying that it still made your heart race. You’d really fucked up the whole ‘don’t catch feelings’ thing, but you really didn’t care because as long as he was in your life you were happy. He put his hand on your lower back and ushered you through a hallway and you walked up into a huge area painted in blinding white. Whoever designed for Big Hit had a thing for white.

“So what exactly is all of this? You were pretty vague when I asked questions.” you glanced up at him and he shot you a cute smile.

“I didn’t really have specifics, but basically we get together every week to film a small webisode for our fans. Each week we do something different and since this will take up a majority of my day, I wanted to see you. Since I can bring you with me to some things I decided to take advantage of it.” You shook your head smiling. It had only been yesterday that you had met with Bang PD and JK was given the okay on letting you come around to things. JK, like always, didn’t waste any time.

“So you’re dressed up….why?”

He shrugged, “They hand me clothes and I put them on, I don’t really ask questions. They do a pretty good job at making us look good.” he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “but on occasion they put us in really weird shit and we have to shut up and deal with it.”

“Well you look good,” you blushed when you saw Jimin walk up beside JK.

“What about me? Do I not look good?” he gave you a teasing smile.

“You all look good Jimin.” you laughed.

All of them were dressed in dress pants and a button down while some had ties JK had a bowtie. You could say with complete confidence that they looked really good. You wanted to find the stylists and thank her on behalf of all of their fans because...damn.

“But I look the best right?” he put his arm around JK and looked at him and then looked to you.

“Isn’t that like choosing a favorite child?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He patted JK roughly on the back and JK elbowed him in the stomach causing him to grunt in pain but still laugh. “Glad you’re here Y/N, he can stop complaining now.” he quipped before walking off.

You raised an eyebrow at him and moved your gaze to JK, “I saw you yesterday.” you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“Your point?” he asked shamelessly. You shook your head at him but couldn’t help but smile, “but really...i look better than all of them, right?” you rolled your eyes.

“Yes JK, you look the best. I’m pretty sure most of the fans will have fantasies about you after watching today’s episode.” your face flushed crimson when you realized what you said.

“Oh really? I must ask...are you a fan?” he was smirking and the urge to cover your face and curl into a ball was prevalent as he stepped closer to you.

“All members need to come to the floor so we can start shooting.” you heard someone say through what sounded like a megaphone.

“Duty calls.” you said in relief of not having to continue that conversation.

He grabbed your hand and brought you towards the area where the camera’s were set up. Someone walked over and did a quick fix of his hair and touched up his makeup. “I set up a chair over there if you wanna sit, but stay out of trouble and don’t wander off.”

“Yes sir.” you said mockingly. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and you realized exactly what you said and realized that he would take it in a sexual manner. His dirty mind was in overdrive lately. “Sorry guess it’s the power of you in a suit.”

He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact. He placed a quick kiss on your head and pointed towards the seat. You smirked knowing that you’d made him flustered. It was nice to be the one causing it instead of being the one doing it. You walked to the chair and sat down. You watched the guys as they all stood there around a small tables with cups of water. The producer told everyone to be quiet and explained the premise of the episode. They would be doing different things but the first would be holding water in their mouth while the others tried to get the person to spit out the water. He made sure to comment that almost everything was fair game within reason.

Jungkook went first so he sat in the chair and filled his mouth with water. All the boys seemed to be very excited to be able to torture their maknae. The boys tried everything to get him to spit out the water, they tried tickling him and even tried pulling him off the chair. By the end of it the producer called it and JK looked accomplished. Jimin was pointing at you and saying something to the director but you couldn’t quite hear it. Jimin started waving you over and you noticed the camera’s stopped rolling. You were confused but walked over to the group anyways.

“Y/N, do you think you could make Jungkookie spit out the water?”

“Ummm….what?”

“Well we all tried and we’ve made a wager. Jungkookie has agreed that if he spits out the water at whatever you try he has to take a punishment. He doesn’t think you’ll be able to, but the rest of us disagree.”

“Hmmm...what's the punishment?” You couldn’t help but be intrigued, you knew the both of you were competitive. JK was more competitive than you but you felt pretty confident that you could make him spit out the water.

“The hyungs have decided that if he loses, he has to come clean on some song writing.” JK’s semi cocky demeanor changed at the mention of their punishment. He was glaring at them but none of them paid it any attention.

You’d been asking him about the new album and all he would tell you is that they were finishing it up and that he helped write some of the songs. So you agreed, “Sure. I’ll try.”

JK looked at you determined and you could feel the competitiveness radiating around him. “So you don’t think I can make you spit it out?” He shook his head and you walked around to the back of the chair and rested your arm on his shoulder as you leaned down, “Are you sure?”

JK nodded and you smirked to yourself thinking back to a bit ago on what got him flustered. You bit your lip and cupped your hand and put your mouth by his ear so only the two of you would be able to hear what you were about to say, “Based off our conversation earlier, do you like it when I call you sir?” you felt your cheeks flush a little bit.

JK spit out the water and started coughing and you couldn’t help but feel a little accomplished at being able to do something his hyungs couldn’t. The other members were laughing while Jimin and Tae were hanging on each other they were laughing so hard while the others were clapping while they continued to laugh.

You bent down beside JK since he was still coughing, “Are you okay?” you were genuinely worried.

“You’re evil.” he was able to get out between coughing fits.

“I have to know what she said.” Hobi called out from beside the two of you.

“No you don’t.” JK was able to catch his breath as his coughing fits came to an end.

“Oh yes we do.” Tae said once he was able to stop laughing.

“You lost within seconds, I really need to know.” Jimin said as he was bent down beside you with his elbow resting on your shoulder.

JK didn’t answer them he just got out of the chair and walked away and grabbed a paper towel and started cleaning off what water did get on him. You chewed on your lip thinking maybe you’d gone too far and pissed him off. “He’s fine, don’t worry. He’ll thank us later.” Yoongi said softly from behind you. You turned to look at him, “whatever you said, I can assure you he’s not mad at you.” It took you off guard hearing him talk like that. You hadn’t had much interaction with him and he seemed a little distant so you thought maybe he wasn’t that accepting of the idea. Maybe you misread him and he’s not like that at all.

You felt a warm hand against your lower back and looked over to see JK standing beside you. Yoongi apparently felt like that was his cue to leave so he gave you a quick smile and turned to go to the others. You turned fully to face JK, “I’m so sorry if that was too far. I wasn’t really thinking about everyone else being around. I didn’t even think I could get you to s--”

He grabbed your face and you abruptly stopped talking, “I’m not mad.” he dropped his hands now that he had your attention. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say something like that. I have to do the penalty and I wish the hyungs would stop meddling, but I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you.” You wrapped your arms around his middle and he gave you a tight hug before letting go. “But I do need to get back to shooting, everyone’s waiting on me.”

You nodded and he completely dropped his hold on you and you walked back to your seat. You watched the rest of filming and when they boys did get breaks JK would come over to talk to you and most of the guys followed and you would all talk until they were called to start filming again. You enjoyed watching it and sometimes your stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and the fact that you had to try and keep yourself from making any noise made it hurt even more. The producer yelled cut and that they were done filming for the day. Everyone clapped and even though the boys were rushing to leave they still made sure to be polite and bow to everyone who bowed to them.

JK walked out from the room they had off to the side after changing and he was dressed in jeans a black shirt and a beanie��the beanie that you bought him. The other members followed behind him and he smiled at you when he got closer. “So my schedules are done until tomorrow, wanna go to the river with me?”

It was now dark out and the temperature outside was probably a little cooler than before and you weren’t wearing a heavy jacket since you knew you’d be inside. “I didn’t bring a thicker jacket.”

“It’s okay, I’m pretty sure I have another hoodie in my managers car.” You nodded and said okay as the others walked up beside him.

“We’re headed back to the dorms...well most of us. Yoongi is headed to his studio.” Jimin looked at you, “It was fun having you here Y/N, I can truly say that things have gotten better with you around.”

You fought a blush that was trying to creep up, “Thanks.”

Jimin turned to JK, “We expect a report from your punishment.” JK didn’t say anything he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding.

Everyone left leaving you and JK standing there, “Ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded and he put his arm around you and the two of you headed to his managers car. JK handed you the hoodie that was in his managers car. You slipped off the light jacket you had and pulled the hoodie over your head. It was a little big on you but not by much. JK’s eyes lingered before requesting an Uber. He slipped his mask on and you felt a sense of  nostalgia. He had taken you to the river the first night you met him. It was crazy to think that was months ago and everything that had happened since then.

The two of you stood outside and he stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders and his chin resting on your head. “You really are the perfect height. I don’t even have to hold my head up, you can do it for me.”

You stepped away quickly causing his head to dip down in surprise. You smirked and he just grabbed the sleeve of the hoodie and pulled you back to his chest and rested his chin on your head again, “see, perfect.” he gave you a light squeeze and you couldn’t help but lean back into him.

The Uber picked the both of you up and took you to the Han River. You tried to convince JK to let you pay half the fare but he laughed you off and just grabbed your arm pulling you to him because you weren’t watching where you were talking and almost walked into someone. You sighed at his stubbornness. “I’m capable of helping JK, you don’t have to pay for everything. I’m not expecting you to start paying for everything because of your status.”

He stopped walking and pulled you from the walkway so the two of you weren’t blocking it. “First off, I don’t think you do. I’m doing it because I can and because I want to. So stop being so sensitive about me thinking that you’re using me, because I know you aren’t.”

You huffed, “Of course I'm sensitive about it. I don’t want you ever thinking that because it’s not like that.”

“I know.” he put both hands on your shoulders so you would look directly at him, “You almost completely cut me out because of who I am and what I do. If that doesn’t scream ‘I’m not using you’ then I don’t know what does.” you nodded mutely. “Come on.”

He put his arm around you and the two of you walked along the river. You pulled the hood up because of the light breeze and JK pulled you closer trying to keep you warm. You walked in a comfortable silence, although JK did seem to be more fidgety than normal. You put your hand over his because he kept messing with the fabric on your shoulder, “Hey. You okay?”

He nodded, “Let’s take a seat up here.” he nodded towards a secluded area, the same area from the first night. You had no idea what was going on but you said okay and the two of you took a seat away from the few people that were actually there. He pulled up his hood and looked at you for a moment before saying anything.

“So the penalty from today was to talk to you about songs I've written, well more specifically a certain song.” he let the statement hang there.

“Okay?” you weren’t sure if he was waiting for you to say something or if he got lost in thought.

“We’ve talked about a lot of things, but I'm still very guarded about some things and I don’t want to be. When I have problems saying something I normally write lyrics. I find that I do this a lot when it comes to you because I have so many things I want to say that are difficult for me. I suck at conveying my feelings just like I suck at talking about them. I don’t normally have that problem with you but there are some things that are just hard to put into words or I'm not ready to talk about them yet and writing lyrics helps me with that. Who I was before you is different than who I am now.”

You didn’t take your eyes off him because you knew that whatever this was about had him nervous and he was opening up in a different way than he normally did with you. The two of you spent many nights talking until the early hours of the next morning and just when you think you know everything you could about JK he surprises you with something new.

“When I came to Seoul I was young and I knew what I wanted to do. So I worked really hard, I was constantly at the studio practicing or squeezing in voice lessons when I could. My love for music and performing kept me going for the longest time, but that was all I ever did. That first night we met you broke me out of my constant cycle. My plan was to go to practice and then practice for a few more hours after everyone else left. But for some reason, this girl I had just met made me want to break this cycle I had been in for so long. Each time I hung out with you I wanted to hang out with you again and for even longer.”

JK took a deep breath and continued, “You interrupted a cycle that people saw from me for years. I slowed down some, I wasn’t spending all of my time at the studio. Instead I would go see you and even though we couldn’t really go out and do things that much it was still the highlight of my day every time I saw you. When you live with the same guys for as long as we’ve lived together they notice things and my demeanor changed. When I finally took the mask off and was able to share more of myself with you it was so overwhelming and things only got better. You were the one thing I looked forward to. Performances used to be the one thing I looked forward to, and I still do look forward to them but not like I how I look forward to time with you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up but you didn’t want to interrupt anything so you didn’t move, you let your cheeks redden and continued to listen, “Before you found out about who I was I was sitting in my room one night after hanging out with you and started thinking back to how things were before you. I was on autopilot and almost like I was dead inside, I became so focused on my goals that I never let myself be distracted and it came to be a very isolating lifestyle. You changed that, suddenly it would feel so lonely when you weren’t around. It always felt wrong when I didn’t see you for that day. You saved me from so many things and I didn’t know how to say it, so I wrote it. I wrote the lyrics to ‘Save Me’.” It took a minute for your brain to catch up to the last bit of what he said. The song that you loved so much, was written about you. You were trying to make sense of it all. “And since my hyung’s like to meddle they’d been pushing me to tell you for awhile.”

���Wow…” you were speechless, which didn’t happen often. “I’m not really sure what to say.” you felt yourself getting emotional for a lot of different reasons. This was the most open he’d ever been with you. Knowing the lyrics of the song and hearing that it was about you made you chest ache, but in a good way. You couldn’t really form words so you just wrapped your arms around him and he pulled you closely before laying back and taking you with him. You both laid there in silence and you could hear his heart hammering in his chest. You knew he was probably dying for you to say something.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, “You changed a lot of things for me. I didn’t really expect much in coming here. I thought that I would experience Seoul and probably go back home in a month, but here I am months later and I'm still not sure when I'll go back. When we started hanging out more I became hesitant because I was becoming so close with someone that would end up oceans away when I went back home. But even with that being said, I didn’t like not seeing you. It came to the point that the apartment felt weird if you weren’t there, even when you’d only visit a few hours and then leave. You’ve become this staple in my life and I wouldn’t change it for anything. When making decisions or plans, you come to mind. Whether it's deciding what to get from the grocery store, to if I want to go to a movie with Jackson or not because you’ll be free in a few hours. Jackson even knows he takes a back seat to you, and it feels awful to agree with it, but it’s true and it’s been that way for awhile. When I found out who you were a large part of me needing time was trying to figure out how I would fit into your life like that. Suddenly it wasn’t just me and you, I was sharing you with a whole fandom and it freaked me out. I know your fans mean everything to you and what if somehow they found out about us being friends and they didn’t like it, would you drop me? I--”

“No.” he cut you off. “I wouldn't drop you. Yes I love my fans, but I would hope that they would take my happiness into consideration and see that you make me happy.”

AN: Welp, there it is. It’s weird using a GIF as the header image since I’ve only used images until now. But i figured if someone hasn’t seen the run episode then this will give them a better idea. Save Me lyrics can be found here and I hope everyone thought this chapter was worth the wait. This kind of gives an idea to where both of their heads are at, but a JK POV is probably coming up soon i’m just not sure where i want to place it yet. I’ve got the rest of the story mapped out and there are only 11 chapters left before this sucker is done. Still up in the air on the trilogy thing so I’ve written two endings (yes the endings are already written lol). Anyways, hope you enjoyed! To all who reblogged the last chapter I thank you. Much love to:

jungkooksstarryeyes

panda-luminary

busansidehoe

*requests are OPEN*

[aint-no-baby-mama-drama]

Kolvina prompt fill

Basic Prompt: Kolvina- Include these phrases- "Come back with me" & "I can't stand my own reflection" & "You don't mean anything to me".

(Also, huge Kudos to my Beta, @bonkaiqueen . You are THE best)

Kol moved slowly up the steps, avoiding the familiar spots that he knew would creak, and wiped his hands across the legs of his jeans as he neared the bedroom. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pressed the pads of his fingers against the wood, pushing open the unlocked door and stepping in. The fan in the corner of the room was set on high simply for the sound. It was something that he had had to adjust to once they got together, the sound of the fan while they slept, but the past few days it had been miserable to sleep without it. There was an oil diffuser on the nightstand, that was currently casting a soft green light throughout the room.

Kol walked slowly, careful not to drag his feet as he approached the bed in the center of the room. Davina was asleep, which was a given considering the time. She shifted slightly in the bed, moving her hand up to just under her chin as she continued to slumber. He squatted by her side of the bed, steadying his breath as he observed her. She looked peaceful and well rested. Which was such a contrast from the last time he had seen her, with tears streaming down her face as she screamed in his direction, demanding that he leave immediately. He swallowed hard at the memory, rested his elbows on his thighs to maintain his balance, and tried to decide what he was doing there and why he had come. The light from the diffuser changed to the next color and a blue glow radiated across the room.

It all boiled down to her, he needed to see her. Davina had been smart enough after the first day to block his number when it became obvious that he wasn't going to respect her wishes and stop trying to call and text. The five days since he had last laid eyes on her had been torture.

Kol stood, moving around the bed to the dresser, pausing in front of it as he reached out, gently lifting the gold framed photo and letting a small smile touch his lips. It was one of the only wedding photos they had, and it was taken from Rebekah's cell phone. They had a professional photographer, but all of the photos had been lost when the rain started pouring. The report that Davina had obsessed over all but promised clear weather, but about halfway through the reception the clouds rolled in and the skies opened up. Kol shut his eyes as the memory flooded in.

Davina's mouth popped open as the first drop of rain hit against her bare shoulder. Her head whipped to the left as she searched for Kol, irritation filling her as a few more drops fell down. The day had been perfect so far, the wedding was held at a small plantation on the edge of New Orleans. It was an intimate gathering that reflected nothing but peace and love.

But now a sense of panic filled the air as the guests all stilled. Everyone had their eyes to the sky. Within moments, a clap of thunder erupted and the rain began pouring from the clouds in bucketfuls. The dance floor cleared quickly as everyone moved to get out of the rain. Davina just stood in the center, a smile stretching her lips as the irony of it all hit her. Kol appeared in front of her, a smile on his face as he took her hand.

"May I have this dance, Mrs. Mikaelson?" he asked. She nodded once and stepped closer to him, the smile never leaving her face. And they began dancing, to no music, as the world around them bustled to get out of the rain. Once the rain had soaked every inch of fabric on either of them, Davina pulled away and slid her fingers into his.

"Come here," she requested, tugging him past the chairs and towards the enclosed porch. They were both soaked and laughing with each other as the final step up brought them under the cover from the porch. She turned to Kol, grinning ear to ear as water dripped down her bare shoulders and grabbed his cheeks, sliding to her tiptoes to press her lips against his. Rebekah snapped the photo at that moment, capturing the rain in the background and the love in the air.

Kol opened his eyes, holding the photograph a few moments longer before setting it back in its place on the dresser and turning to face the bed. He stood by the end of the bed for what felt like an hour as he watched her sleep, trying to figure out where it had all went wrong. It was his fault, he knew that. He always knew she was too good for him and had been waiting since day one to mess up bad enough that she wouldn't love him anymore. And when the day came, he couldn't have even acted like he didn't expect it.

Kol stayed quiet in the living room while his wife moved around the kitchen, the house silent aside from the occasional opening of the refrigerator and beeping of the oven. He was on edge, gently tapping his fingers on the edge of the couch. He knew the fight was coming, in fact he could almost predict how it would all go down.

It was one they'd already had countless times in the last three years of their marriage. Children.

Davina wanted them badly. She had always seen herself being a mother, barefoot and pregnant on the porch with a few dogs. The ultimate down-home dream. At first she had pushed him to consider letting them look into a sperm donor, which she quickly dropped because it was a big deal to him that she wouldn't be pregnant with some other man's child. But then when she brought up adoption, he was just as quick to push it to the side, claiming every excuse in the book. And the fights progressively had gotten worse. They got louder, they lasted longer, and the aftermath was torture. She had begun to go literal days without actually speaking to him. And he had no idea how to handle it.

Earlier that morning, they stood in line for coffee and a small child in front of them kept turning in his mother's arms to face them. Davina had smiled and gone out of her way to make faces for the child, to make him laugh and pass the grueling time waiting in line. The child's mother had noticed and began to make small talk, even offering to let Davina hold the child. She had, eagerly, and blew raspberries on his cheeks until he giggled.

Then the mother had asked if they had children and the familiar stone face Davina put on appeared. Kol knew the fight would come again that day. And it had, as soon as they left the shop and he began talking to her she closed up. The entire day she was silent and was now preparing dinner in the kitchen. Leaving Kol to fester in the living room, waiting for the storm to hit. And hit it did.

Halfway through dinner he was fed up with the silence.

"So how long are you planning to be mad at me this time?" he snapped, the guilt for the venom he heard in his voice rushing him immediately. She jolted up from the table with fire in her eyes and that's how it had started. The fight escalated until they were screaming across the room at each other.

"Just let the damn kid thing go, Davina!" he shouted, slamming his fists down against the table. She jumped at the splintering sound accompanying the bang.

"You just don't get it," Davina sobbed, raking her sleeves over her face to catch the tears as they escaped her eyes. "We are too different, we want different things. The Kol I married was rational, the Kol I married loved me and wanted a future with me. But you?" She paused a moment, sniffling, her body tense. "You aren't him. You don't mean anything to me. You need to get out, now."

He had looked at her in disbelief. She simply pointed to the door, her hand visibly shaking. "And don't bother calling me when you realize what you've done. We need some time apart and I think we are done," she finished.

Kol turned and stalked out, slamming the door so hard behind him he heard the wood crack on impact.

That was the last time they spoke to one another, almost a full 12 hours later, Kol had cooled off enough and regretted everything. But he couldn't do or say anything to elicit a response from Davina and eventually she blocked his number so he couldn't even try to contact her. After two full days of trying to catch her at the house he gave up, deciding he just needed to give her the time she needed. But the more time that went on, the more he was afraid that they really were done. He made it four whole days without her, and then hit his breaking point about halfway through number five.

Kol shuffled over to her side of the bed, wanting one last look at her before he left. He wasn't exactly sure where he would go, but knew that anywhere else would be better than this town. Biting the inside of his cheek as he watched her sleep, he fought the urge to reach out and move the dark curls from her face so he could see it fully. Eventually he caved and bent by the bed, reaching out and allowing his finger to brush across her face and tuck the hair back. Her soft skin enticed him and Kol gently rested his fingers against her cheek. Two steadying breaths passed and her eyes blinked open wide, surprise crossed with fear as her hand flew out and he found himself flying backwards across the room from some whispered incantation.

She swung her legs out of the bed and sat up as he scrambled back to a standing position. They stared at each other, the room thick with silence for a few moments before she spoke.

"Why are you here, Kol?" she asked, a sliver of guilt running through her as she thought about how hard he had just cracked his head. "The whole point of 'I need some time to breathe' means just what it sounds like. I need some time to breathe without you." She crossed her arms over her chest as she directed her eyes anywhere but into his.

"Davina..." Kol's voice was a whisper. "Please look at me. Please, darling." He stepped closer to her and dropped down to his knees in front of her, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before she looked away. He rested back on his calves and gently brushed his fingers against her thighs, looking up to her face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice soft and cracking with emotion. Davina swallowed hard and willed herself to look forward, refusing to let him see how close she was to crying.

"I do want the same things as you." He told her, moving closer so her knees were against his chest.

"No. you don't." She shook her head and finally shifted her eyes to meet his. Three heartbeats passed before either said anything and tears began streaming down Davina's face. Kol nodded his head and reached forward quickly, swiping the tears from her cheeks and leaving his hands there as he spoke.

"I do, I do want the same things. I do want children with you, I do want a bigger house we can fill with children. I just..." He paused for a moment, looking away from her eyes as he dropped his hands from her face and onto the bed on either side of her. "I'm not good enough, Davina...I'm not even good enough for you but somehow I got you to marry me. I can't stand my own reflection lately." He shook his head, his last sentence bitter, and a silence took over the room for a few minutes as both processed what he had just said.

"All of this is because you think you're a bad guy?" Her voice was soft as she spoke, and laced with a doubtful tone.

Kol merely stared at the ground. She reached down and cupped her hands on his cheeks, tilting his head up so he was looking at her. "Do you really think you're that bad?" she asked. He nodded almost instantly, avoiding her eye contact. Davina felt the tears threaten to fall from her face again. She really loved this man, this beautiful and self loathing man.

"Kol, look at me" she said, her voice trembling with emotion. A beat passed and he turned, locking his eyes with hers. "You are not a bad guy anymore. You're a good guy. You're the kind of guy who loves me and cares about me. You're the kind of guy I really don't deserve." She stroked her thumbs along his face.

Kol's eyes began to sting.

"Kol Mikaelson, I married you knowing your flaws and downfalls, and I love you despite them. That's what marriage is, it's a give and take, and...I'm sorry." She paused a moment. "I shouldn't have kicked you out just because we fought. Come back with me?"

Kol shook his head, breaking free from her grasp. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't need to get that angry with you. I could have just given you my reasons and talked it through instead of dodging the subject."

Davina pushed away from her spot on the bed and crawled into Kol's lap on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and sat on his bottom fully. The couple sat in silence a few moments and Kol began to wonder if Davina had dozed back off before she pulled away from his chest and put her hands back on his face, cradling it as she pressed their lips together. Kol returned the kiss, gently grabbing the back of her head to hold her in place, fingers tangling in the soft curls there.

An hour later found them both in the bed, a thin sheet of sweat covering their bodies as they rested in the aftermath of the best make up sex. Davina rested her head against Kol's chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart as it slowed back to a normal pace.

"I love you, Davina Mikaelson" He whispered. She turned her head to press a soft kiss against his chest.

"And I love you, Kol Mikaelson" Davina responded, curling herself into his side. A few moments passed in silence as Kol lifted a hand, gently moving it across Davina's hair and her eyes drifted shut.

"So... kids?" he asked. Davina hummed a bit and cuddled herself in closer.

"Hmm...sleep first," she murmured after a pause, content to stay in his arms for as long as possible.