#i swear this is linked to what i wrote last week

[mike----wazowski]

sunday six hours..... thanks for the tags dears @four-white-trees @overdevelopedglasses

taggin the ppl i normally hit up @skysquid22 @passthroughtime @woundedheartwithin !!

not got much goin on today, just daigo beating up some fools lmao, writing's been hard this week

***

Asano stops the car by the side of the road. Daigo loosens his tie. “Stay here. Don’t follow me.”

“Y- Yes, sir.”

He opens the door and steps onto the sidewalk. Being just outside the city, this area is calmer, but ahead of him is a sight that Kamurocho is known for all too well. 

A group of men, crowding one helpless victim. One of them has a boot on the victim's back. Tears stream down the boy’s bruised face- he can’t be older than high school age.

Daigo rolls his neck, feeling a satisfying click. Next, he flexes his wrists. “Hey.”

His voice, tinged with the irritability of ever-present sleep deprivation, catches their attention.

“Step away from the boy,” Daigo says. “Now.”

“We got a big-shot here, huh?” One of them- a gang member, from the looks of it- sneers. “Look at that suit! Who the fuck are you?”

“I won’t say it again.”

“And who the hell are you to-”

Patience is a virtue Daigo struggles to practise these days. When you face yakuza patriarchs shouting over each other all the time, you learn how to cut through noise. Before the gang member can finish his sentence, he’s sent flying by a punch to the jaw.

[writtenwhalien]

jump then fall (into you) | part 1

banner by the talented @jimilter​ 💖

pairing ↠ jungkook x reader

genre ↠ cruise AU, fake dating AU, best friends to lovers AU | fluff, angst, smut

word count ↠ 52k (split into 3 parts | pt 1. 24k)

18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, drinking, sexual content: foreplay, oral m. and f., nipple play, protected sex etc.

summary ↠ bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

note. i'm backkkkk...?! with a disclaimer too:

I’ve been writing this on and off for pretty much two years so 1. it's not proofread bc i have not got the attention span to do that for 50k+ and I never got to read over what I previously wrote before working on it again so it might be a bit mismatched…?  2. I can’t say I’m hugely happy with this fic because it wasn’t a continuous workflow, it just doesn’t match the standards I have for myself but i tried and I’ll do better for the next ones which I’m excited about ;)

please interact and tell me how you find it! <3 it's been forever and i've missed you all 🥺

due to tumblr text post limitations, I’ve had to publish in three parts — links for part 2 + 3 can be found at the end.

 ↠ a part of the seven seas collab hosted by the wonderful yannie @ressjeon 🌊🥰 two years late but I made it :’)

part 1

“Gosh, Y/N, it’s a three week trip, you’re not going for a year!” 

The frustration in Jungkook’s voice has you whipping around, a pair of Valentino’s in one hand, Manolo’s in the other. “It’s Alex’s wedding cruise, Jungkook. Everyone and their parents are going to be there, mine included!” 

“Not mine!” he huffs, putting the last of your swimsuits into the suitcase open in front of him. You don’t blame him for being so frustrated, after all, he has been folding your clothes for the last hour while his single suitcase sits ready to go downstairs in the foyer. 

“Actually in case you’ve forgotten,” you start, stepping carefully through the piles of clothes in your massive closet to go towards him, “my mom has fed and even bathed you once after that time you wet yourself, so technically she’s as good as yours too.”

“That was one time, and I barely even remember it so it doesn’t count.”

“I do,” you smile, coming to stop in front of him. 

He sighs, looking down at the stilettos you’re holding. “We’ve been packing for hours already, you should’ve done this nights ago if it was gonna take this long.”

Now it’s you who’s sighing. “It’s been an hour not hours, besides we’re almost done now.”

Jungkook arches his brow, folding his arms in front of him. “Then what’re all your clothes doing on the floor?”

“They just need to go in one of the suitcases,” you smile. “See, we’re almost done.”

Unconvinced, Jungkook looks around at the mess but eventually nods. “Fine, but you can finish yourself, I’m going to eat—“

“No, wait, you can’t leave me!” you exclaim, reaching for Jungkook as your eyes go wide as a doe.

Telltale traces of a smile on Jungkook’s features let you know he was expecting this. He looks down at you, a loose curl hanging over his forehead. There was once a time when you were the taller one, but that only lasted a few years before Jungkook got in a good few inches between you. 

Both of you were just turning six when you first met although it always felt like Jungkook was a little younger to you in the first few years of your friendship, probably because of his naturally introverted nature which he more often steps out of when he feels comfortable to do so. But back then, he was just a wide eyed six year old who hid behind his mother as she came to work on her first day at the estate you call home. 

Knowing Jungkook was the same age as you and from a single parent household, your mom suggested that he could stay with you instead of his mom needing to hire someone to look after him while she worked. That was probably one of the best things that ever happened to the both of you. Jungkook became a better friend to you than many of those at your private school full of elementary school kids who wished they were ten years older than they were, and as the years went on there was nothing you didn’t do together. 

Naturally, your family got to know Jungkook well and being the little smartass he’s always been, Jungkook impressed your father so much that he helped him to apply for a scholarship position as you moved into high school. Of course Jungkook got in, and though it was only a partial scholarship, your father insisted on paying the rest of his fees which his mother found hard to accept but Jungkook promised your father to pay him back in the future. Fast forward a little more than a decade and Jungkook has paid back all of the fees thanks to being CEO of an affluent software company developed from his love of gaming. 

He struggles to fight his smile and you can see he’s contemplating going down or not, having to choose between food or you.  “What do you even need me for?” he asks, taking the smallest step closer, so small you don’t even notice. 

“Fashion advice?” you shrug, keeping an iron-like grip on his arms. 

He narrows his eyes. “You told me my fashion style is shit.”

“Was,” you correct, sliding your hands up his arms and down his chest with a satisfied smile. “Now is different though, I’ve rubbed off on you.” You glance down at his figure too, checking out his outfit. 

Jungkook chuckles as he follows your gaze. “Why would you need my help when you have yourself then, hm?”

Pouting at him, your arms slip around his waist and squeeze him in a hug. “You’re Mr Muscle, who else is gonna help me carry all this stuff?”

He pouts back sarcastically. “Is princess gonna break a heel if she carries her own suitcase?”

As you shrug, your brows remain furrowed. “Maybe, or a nail,” you say, letting one hand off his waist to show off a fresh manicure. As you wiggle your fingers ahead of him, he breaks into a smile. 

“You know you have a bunch of dudes in suits downstairs, just waiting to help you with this stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s their job.” 

“Yes, but they don’t give me fashion advice like you do,” you respond with a cheeky wink.

Jungkook takes the heels you’re holding off of you. “Here’s some advice — pack light.” He throws the heels behind him somewhere in your closet, earning a frown from you as your eyes follow where they land in the middle of your blown out closet. 

“Fine,” you sigh, looking back up at him. “I’ll lose the heels if you promise you’ll stay with me now.”

As a small smile grows on his lips, Jungkook’s arms find their way around your waist too. “Only if you promise you’ll make me a sandwich before we go?” His smile grows knowingly as he gives in to your charm — you’ve always found it’s easy to encourage Jungkook to go along with whatever you want, he just can’t seem to say no to you. 

“PB and J?” you ask with a smile that matches his.

He nods once, eyes shimmering as he still gazes at you. 

“Of all the foods you could ask for, it’s always PB and J,” you laugh.

He shrugs, letting go as you move to finish packing. “There’s nothing else I want.”

Arching a brow, you throw a few pairs of linen pants towards one of the suitcases in your closet. “We literally have a live-in chef, you know, Frederico, the guy you have a secret handshake with?”

“Yes, what of him?” Jungkook says huffing. 

“And you still want PB and J when he can make you anything?”

Jungkook steps towards your suitcase and picks up a pair of pants to roll. “I know that, but I just need some food in me and quick, so the simple option is best.”

Stepping forward, you take the pants off of him and roll them yourself. “If you would be patient enough to wait a few more minutes then you could have a sandwich that’ll fill you up for longer than half an hour.”

“And if you didn’t have more clothes than half the country combined then we would probably already be on our way to the airport,” Jungkook responds sassily, cocking his head.

“Don’t get smart with me or I won’t make your sandwich,” you sass back.

“I’ll just ask Freddie to make it for me and you don’t get Mr Muscle.”

Grumbling, you shove the rolled pants back into his hands as he laughs, taking them to place in one of the open suitcases. Not long after, all of your suitcases are packed and in the car, ready to go. 

The drive to the airport takes a little under an hour and upon arriving, the car takes you straight to the jet. Apparently you did take a little too long packing as your mom so pointedly lets you know after arriving, but luckily for you there’s a few others missing from the families you’re taking the jet with. With time to kill, Jungkook and you have a few idle chats with the others, most of whom you went to school with so the conversation comes easily but eventually you settle into the seats opposite your parents. 

“How was your drive here, darling?” your mom asks while closing her bag after a little skin TLC. 

“It was fine,” you answer, pulling out your own bag full of the skincare you deemed necessary to carry for the plane trip. 

“And how did you find it, Jungkook?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “It was good.”

“Lovely,” she smiles. “It’s going to be a wonderful trip.”

From beside her, your dad sighs, putting away his tablet. “Do we know how long the flight is to Marbella?”

“Oh, honey,” your mom frowns disapprovingly. “Don’t be such a grumpy lump before we’re even in the air.”

Jokingly, your father looks at Jungkook and you, and then gives your mom a side eye. “I just had a few important meetings that Chris accidentally scheduled for today so I’m wondering if I could still make them online.”

Dismissively, your mom waves her hand. “No work talk, we’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

“Alright, you’re right,” your dad concedes. “Maybe to start we could get a few drinks then, eh?” He raises his brow at Jungkook who approves with a big smile and both of them flag down a flight attendant. 

Once there’s a drink in everyone’s hand, your parents settle into conversation with Jungkook and you. 

“So are you excited to see Alex, Y/N?” your father asks. 

“Absolutely,” you smile. “Though I think I’m more excited to see Sophia and Alias, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to spend time with them.”

“Oh, Jungkook, you must be excited to see Sophia too,” your mom says with a bit of a cheeky smile.

Jungkook chuckles nervously, glancing at you though you’re sporting the same smile as your mother. “I mean, yeah, we’re good friends.”

“Well if you weren’t, things would be pretty awkward,” your dad laughs before helping himself to some food he ordered with the drinks. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook mutters, managing a small laugh.

“Oh come on, guys,” you laugh, nudging him. “She’s happy you’re coming too.”

He nods appreciatively before taking a sip of his drink. “It’s her parents I’m more worried about.”

At this, your mom laughs too. “Oh, Leon and Helena love you really, dear, it’s all just for a laugh.” She leans forwards and squeezes his hand with her usual tender smile. “Though if it really bothers you, we could have a word with them, without letting on it’s coming from you of course.”

Smiling, Jungkook shakes his head. “Thanks, that’s really sweet of you but it’s alright, I can take the daggers I get from them,” he chuckles. “After all, what I did was pretty awful.”

“You were sixteen,” you say, patting on the last of your moisturiser. 

He shrugs. “I know, but she’s their little princess.” He looks across at you and then glances at your parents. “It’s like someone doing that to you, your parents would be mad.” 

At that, your father hums in agreement.

“Heck, I’d be mad,” Jungkook adds. 

Looking at him, he shrugs again and smiles. Before you can say anything, he carries on. “Sixteen or not, I literally left Sophia on one of the most important nights of her life.”

“Yeah, it was pretty awful at the time,” you sigh, remembering the night as clear as day.

Almost ten years ago now, the night of both yours and Sophia’s entry into society, the debutante ball. For you, the night was a bit of a blur with it being the first night Alex and you made things official in your relationship, sealing it with a first kiss and many more that evening. It was a magical and whimsical night, and although Alex and you didn’t last, your love for each other still remains as best friends and you couldn’t be happier for him getting married to his dream girl now. 

For Sophia, the night went a little differently... She'd had a crush on Jungkook for a while since, being Alex’s younger sister, she’d seen him often with you. After he found out, he asked her to be her escort to the ball. She of course said yes and everything seemed to be going perfectly until the moment Jungkook was supposed to escort her down the stairs but he had completely disappeared. Sophia was left all alone and completely embarrassed, even after Alias, the ever caring older brother, stepped in and acted as her escort. Jungkook still hasn’t told you the reason he left so abruptly that night. All you remember is not being able to reach him the whole weekend, even when you tried going to his house he was never home. When you finally saw him, he told you he didn’t want to talk about it so you didn’t. 

Of course, everyone else forgot about the incident and even Sophia forgave him after he apologised profusely and endlessly, but Mr and Mrs Cirillo were less forgiving for a while, but after many years it’s just become a joke between them. The fact that he’s invited on the cruise just shows it’s all in the past now. 

However that doesn’t mean Mr and Mrs Cirillo ever pass up an opportunity to remind him of the past… 

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N, dear,” Mrs Cirillo says, bringing you in for a hug. 

Mr Cirillo stands behind her, taking your hand as soon as his wife lets go. “How was the flight here?”

“It was good, I slept for most of it really.” Stepping away, you turn to look at Jungkook as he approaches them with a meek smile.

Mrs Cirillo smiles back, her words carrying a playful lilt. “There he is, the heartbreaker.”

Jungkook lowers his head at that and you can see his nose scrunching a little. “That’s me, unfortunately,” he says, stepping into Mrs Cirillo’s arms for a brief hug. 

When he takes Mr Cirillo’s hand to shake, the older man shows the same playfulness as his wife. “Nice to see you again, Jungkook. My favourite and least favourite man on board.” 

Jungkook chuckles and Mr Cirillo pulls him in for a hug. “Stay out of trouble, yes?” 

“Of course,” Jungkook smiles, stepping away to stand next to you as your parents walk out onto the main deck.

Their eyes light up as the old friends all greet each other and you take Jungkook’s hand and slip away together before you get roped into a conversation. 

“You alright?” you ask casually as you scan the people all on the deck.

“Good, thanks,” he responds with a gentle squeeze of your hand. He knows that you know how he finds it a little tedious sometimes every time Sophia’s parents mention the past, but he knows he messed up so he doesn’t ever complain about it. In a way, it annoys you when the Cirillo’s always mention it but you know it’s not your place to say anything, especially if Jungkook hasn’t said anything. 

Looking around, you take in many of the familiar faces while scanning the crowds for Alex or one of his siblings. There’s no unfamiliar faces on this part of the deck, and seeing all the waiters walking around offering canapés and drinks, you realise the Cirillo’s must’ve rented out this part of the deck. The excited buzz amongst everyone extends to you as you turn to look out past the balcony towards the sea, stepping towards it and taking Jungkook with you. 

Taking a deep breath of the fresh sea, enjoying the warmth glowing from the sun as a steady breeze blows. Exhaling, you turn around to Jungkook beaming. 

It seems like he was already watching you, waiting as though he knows you’re gonna say something now. Seeing you smile, his corner of his lips turn too. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Very,” you nod, turning around to look out again, lowering the sunglasses from your head to stop from squinting. 

“Y/N!” A familiar voice calls your name and you turn around, breaking into the biggest smile when you see Alex approaching, his arms outstretched. “Jungkook!” 

You meet him halfway, excitedly skipping into his hug. He hugs you tight, releasing a sigh as he lets go and hugs Jungkook. “Gosh, it’s been so bloody long, I’ve missed you guys.” 

“Missed you more, buddy,” Jungkook smiles, patting Alex’s back before he lets go. “Congrats on the wedding too, we’re well excited to be here for you.”

Alex laughs, flashing his perfect pearly smile. “Honestly, I’m happier to have you guys here. Half of the people here haven’t even spoken to me in years.” He glances around before adding, “you know how it is.” 

“Mhm,” you nod, squeezing his arm. “You’ve got us though, we’re here for you every step of the way.” 

“Thanks,” he responds, taking two drinks from a passing waiter to give to you both. “You were allowed plus ones though, when do I get to meet them?” He looks across at both of you expectantly, though you see a subtle raise of his brow matched with a small smile that seems to hint he already knows the answer.

“Well, we didn’t really get the chance to ask anyone,” Jungkook answers, looking sideways at you. “So we just thought we’d come with each other.”

“Ah.” The smile on Alex’s lips grows. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know how busy we’ve both been,” you say, shrugging lightly before taking a long sip of your drink.

“Hm, that’s it,” Alex says quietly. 

“BOO!” Large hands tap your shoulders before the man himself jumps in front of you. 

“Alias,” you squeal excitedly, returning the hug he’s already given you. Slightly more wild albeit still as focused as his younger brother, Alias is the eldest of the Cirillo siblings and has become more of an older brother to you over the years.

“You look like you’ve grown,” he says, moving back and beaming as he pulls Jungkook in for a hug. “Both of you.”

“We literally saw you like a month ago,” Jungkook chuckles. 

“Really?” Alias raises his brows in surprise. “Damn, you kids grow fast.” 

“I could say the same thing about that moustache of yours,” you say. 

He smiles smugly. “Looks good right?”

Shrugging, you lean against the balcony. “I think you looked better without it.”

Alias frowns, hand coming up to stroke his moustache subconsciously. “Really?” he asks, looking at you in time to see you raising your glass to your lips to hide your smile. 

“I knew you liked it,” he laughs. “Apparently a lot of people do.”

“Ah, Alias, no one wants to know,” Alex grimaces at his older brother.

Before Alias can defend himself, Jungkook says, “I do.” Alex and you both look at him and he shrugs. “Might grow mine out.”

Alias laughs, throwing his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “C’mon buddy, I’ll tell you all about it.”

As Alias pulls him away, Alex steps to stand next to you and both of you watch them walk away with Alias talking in a hushed tone as though no one else can find out. 

As you watch them walk away with a fond smile on your face, Alex turns to you.  “So, how have you been?”

Still absentmindedly watching Jungkook and Alias, you hum. “Great.”

“How’s work?”

“Mm, I actually just secured a deal with Park Motors last week.”

Glancing at Alex, you see his brows raise. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, it was a pretty big win for the company and dad was proud of me.” 

Alex smiles. “And were you proud of yourself?”

As Jungkook’s head disappears from the crowd, you turn to face Alex too, taking another sip of your drink. “I know people think I’m just riding off my parent’s success, which yeah, it’s true for the most part, but after doing this all myself I was pretty proud.”

“Good,” he grins. “You should be. You may be one of the most princess-ed girls I know,” he adds with a teasing lilt, “but you’re also one of the most hard working.”

Laughing, you nudge him lightly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He leans against the balcony too, pulling down his shades as he turns towards the sea where the sun shines down on the horizon. “What about things with Jungkook?”

Shrugging, you take a small sip. “He’s good.”

Alex glances at you from the corner of his eye with the curve of his lips growing. “Hm, anything else?”

Levelling his face, you break into a smile. “Oh, Alex, you’re never gonna let this go are you?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Not as long as I see it’s there.” 

Straightening your expression a little, you tilt your head. “But there’s nothing there.”

“Y/N, there’s everything there,” he says, matching your tone. 

“Alex, come on,” you say quietly, traces of a smile returning. 

He shrugs. “I make a perfectly valid point.”

Turning towards the deck again, you sigh. “I don’t see it.”

“I do!” Alex almost exclaims excitedly. “And I have for the longest time.” Letting out a small laugh, he puts his arm around you and squeezes gently. “His big doe eyes used to torture me all the time when I was dating you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Jungkook does have doe eyes but you don’t remember seeing them often while dating Alex. 

“Seriously,” Alex says, fighting his case onwards. “I dated you for what, almost a year I think and I’ve never seen anyone sulk for that long.”

“He wasn’t sulking.”

“Listen, I’m almost a married man now, Y/N, and I can tell you all the looks of love…”

When you arch a brow quizzically, Alex sighs and continues. “That boy was sulking for weeks because he hated seeing you with someone else.”

“Oh come on, maybe he had a crush in the past but he’s a grown man now and has had plenty of his own romances.”

Now it’s Alex who’s looking at you with his brow raised. “Like who?”

It takes you a moment to think of a name but a few still come to mind. “Remember Alia, the intern from my dad's company?” you ask rather smugly, although Alex’s reaction shows no surprise. 

“The girl who he went out with like five times.”

You shrug. “That counts for something.

“It really doesn’t,” Alex says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, who else?”

“Hmmm… ooh, Rachel, that super hot secretary!”

“Y/N, that was a one night stand, it literally doesn’t count.”

Sighing, you rack your memory for more, and then comes the answer. “Valentina.”

Alex almost snorts, prompting you to frown at him.

“What?” you question. “That was a real romance, there were feelings there.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alex almost snorts again. “The most real thing about that relationship was the Chopard watch Valentina tried to use to bribe Jungkook back to her.”

Wincing, you remember the finer details of that supposedly real romance. You turn back out to face the horizon, pulling your own shades down. “Alright, I guess I see your point.”

Gently pushing his point, Alex carries on. “Not to mention that I was your last serious relationship, which was how many years ago now?”

You simply shrug. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

Alex hums thoughtfully. “Or you’ve already ‘found’ your someone.” This earns a glare from you but Alex ignores this. “He’s practically your boyfriend already!” 

“In what way?!”

“You do almost everything together!” Alex exclaims back. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had sex already!” 

“Alex!” Something in your stomach curls unbidden at the thought. “We haven’t had sex!” you whisper hotly, glancing around to make sure no one heard. 

“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, looking over his shoulder too. Luckily there’s no one nearby, everyone seems too busy engaging in their own excited conversations about the weeks to come. 

Everything you’re hearing now isn’t news to you, you know plenty of people have questioned the relationship between Jungkook and you, and you totally get why, but you’ve been friends since such a young age and that’s perfectly okay. Neither you nor Jungkook have made a move to take things further and maybe that’s just how things are meant to stay, despite what Alex seems to think. 

“Also, what friend agrees to come on a 3 week long cruise for you, knowing full well my father doesn’t miss a single opportunity to roast him.” 

“Here’s here for you, not me.”

“Actually,” Alex raises a finger, “I invited him before you and he said he would meet us in Italy because things were busy with the company. I invited you after him, and the next thing I know is Jungkook is calling me telling me he’ll be coming with you from the start.”

As your eyes narrow, you start to think of how that happened. After Alex invited you, you texted Jungkook straight away to ask if he’d come with you as a date to the wedding. As soon as he said yes, you started waffling on about how fun the trip was going to be and it must’ve been after that that Jungkook told Alex he’d come sooner than he previously planned. 

“Well, any best friend would do that,” you say simply. 

Alex pushes his lips out, brows raised. “I’m your best friend and I wouldn’t do that for you.”

“Hey!” You shove him hard but he barely moves. 

“Oh c’mon, you wouldn’t do it for me either.” Alex looks at you with a smile. 

“Yeah,” you relent. “I probably wouldn’t unless you really needed me.”

Just then, you see Jungkook walking towards you, holding a platter of something. He simply beams when you frown at him in confusion. 

From beside you, Alex raises his glass to his lips. “I’m telling you, the boy is whipped,” he says quietly before taking a sip. 

Jungkook comes within ears width before you can say anything.  “Y/N, look,” he holds out the tray he’s holding, “they have those little cracker things you like with capa, uh, capa-something.” He pushes it closer, gesturing for you to take one while looking pleased with himself.

Looking at the platter, your lips curl mindlessly into a smile. “Caponata,” you say, correcting him gently. 

It’s when Jungkook remembers the little things like this that his place in your heart grows and you’re grateful for having him as your best friend. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he smiles. “Here, I got them for you.”

Your brows furrow together as you look down. “The whole platter?”

“Well, yeah,” he says looking down too. “You like them and I’m sure there’s more going around for everyone else.”

From beside you, Alex starts coughing and you’re more than certain you hear the word “whipped” coming out of his mouth. One glance at him proves you’re right as he raises his brows before looking away. 

Jungkook, not having noticed the word Alex let slip, is eating one of the canapés before holding one out for you too. Smiling and thanking him, you take it. 

“Good right?” Jungkook asks, his mouth full as you also eat one whole. 

“So good,” you mumble, brows furrowed as you keep eating. 

Jungkook holds the tray towards Alex. “Want one?” 

“I’m good,” he smiles. “I’ll leave you two to it though, I’ve still got some guests I need to greet.” His smile seems weary though you don’t blame him, sometimes the supposed family friends in your circle don’t seem very much like friends. After saying a temporary goodbye, he takes his leave, leaving Jungkook and you to continue devouring the canapés. 

For a moment, you’re both quiet, save the sounds of pleasure from eating, then Jungkook speaks. “Sophia’s not coming with us by the way.”

Eyes wide, you turn to look at him. “What?!” you question, mouth half full. 

Jungkook takes one glance at you and chuckles. His thumb comes up and wipes something close to your lips. “She’s joining us later, from Nice.”

“Oh.” Your lips turn into a pout. “Who am I gonna hang out with?” 

“You-bo-me,” Jungkook says with his mouthful again.  

“No,” you sigh. “I don’t got you. As soon as Alias is about, you and him turn into Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

A small laugh escapes Jungkook's lips and you frown at him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs again, placing the mostly empty tray down on a nearby table. “Look,” he takes your hands and squeezes them, “I promise I’ll stay with you, we can just hang out with Alias too.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say looking up at him. “It’s fine though, you can hang out with whoever you want. You don’t have to stay with me.”

Jungkook hides an amused smile. “I’ll stay with you, we can’t have our princess being alone,” he chuckles again, letting go of your hands to squeeze your cheeks. 

“Mm, my makeup,” you mumble, prying his fingers off your cheeks. “And you can stay with me if you really want to,” you shrug, hiding your smug expression. 

Jungkook scoffs, laughing as you put your sunglasses back on. “I changed my mind.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, and before you get another word out, Jungkook is laughing, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in.

“I’m joking, now let’s go say hi to the Morgan’s, they’ve been looking this way since Alex was here.”

“They’re probably just judging us,” you grumble. 

Jungkook smiles, turning you around and walking with you. “More reason to say hello.”

Most of the first day is spent the same way, greeting some families who you like and some who you don’t but at least you get to do it with a glass of champagne and Jungkook by your side. By the early evening, everyone is settling into their cabins and exploring the cruise ship which feels more like a palace. 

It’s well past midnight when Jungkook is walking you to your cabin which unfortunately is on another level to yours – Alex mentioned he couldn’t get your cabins closer since Jungkook was supposed to be joining later.

“I am so ready to knockout,” you yawn, pulling out the keycard.

“Make sure you don’t forget to take your makeup off,” Jungkook says as a gentle reminder.

Turning around at the threshold of your door, you look at him as he leans against the wall opposite. “I won’t, and you don’t forget to shower, you still stink of chlorine.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly, careful not to disturb any of the neighbouring cabins who are most likely asleep. Alias and him decided it would be fun to cannonball into the deck pool during prohibited hours and subsequently ended up running away from some of the cruise crew and you just happened to be with them even though you refused to jump in because it’s breaking the rules.

“I’m making you join us next time,” he says.

“That’s never gonna happen.”

Smiling slightly, Jungkook tilts his head. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Laughing, you step out of your room towards him. “I wouldn’t try, Jeon.” Raising your hand, you pinch his nose. “You’ll just fail.”

“Or,” Jungkook raises his brows, taking your hand into his, “it could be one of the best nights you spend here, plus running away is fun,” he grins. 

“You call that fun?” you laugh. 

“Tell me it wasn't.”

You shrug. “I have fun whenever I'm with you anyway.” 

Jungkook smiles, and so do you. It’s not hard to be honest around him, it never has been. That’s probably why you’ve been best friends for so long. “So all the time?” he says. 

“All the time,” you repeat, laughing. 

Lips still holding a gentle smile, Jungkook looks down at you and for a second you wait for him to say something but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he releases a small sigh and pulls you into a hug. 

You feel your body relax in his embrace, the weariness of today’s jet lag and socialising and cheeky antics slowly melting away as you breathe in the comforting smell of his cologne. Even though it’s tainted with chlorine, his arms around you seem to make it worth putting up with. 

His hands slide up your back, patting you softly. “I’ll see you in the morning, hm.”

“Just don’t wake me up before noon,” you mumble.

He laughs, pulling away. “Breakfast ends at 11.”

Groaning, you step towards your door again. “I wish Freddie was with us.”

Chuckling quietly, he starts to make his way towards his cabin. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night,” you wave, seeing him disappear from view as the door closes. You almost collapse onto your bed but manage to trudge to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and get into your pyjamas before finally sinking into bed and falling asleep.

Knock knock knock

Knock knock.

“Y/N?"

Knock knock knock. “Y/N!”

Grumbling, you pull your pillow over your head.

There’s a few more impatient knocks before you hear Jungkook. “Come on, or I’m going down without you.”

“Go,” you groan, tossing in bed. “I’ll eat later.”

Then you hear a series of whining outside the door. “It's already almost 11, it's embarrassing going by myself you have to come with me, please.”

With one final groan, you force yourself out of bed and open the door. “I said not before noon, Koo.”

“Please,” he says, lips forming an effortless pout. “I’m hungry.”

Well you can’t say no now. Sighing, you step aside for him to come in. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Jungkook slumps onto your bed, already dressed casually in a white tee and black shorts. “You have ten.”

With Jungkook rushing you, you meet halfway and manage to get ready in 15 minutes instead. It seems the Cirillo’s spared no expense and managed to keep an entire upper deck private for all of the meals served on sea days. There’s a breakfast buffet laid out inside but before you can even grab yourself a plate, you see your mom frowning at you from her seat outside. She raises her brows and points to her wrist, her not so subtle way of reminding you you’re late.

With a big smile, you mouth sorry and she just laughs to herself, shaking her head. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls your name. You look over at him and he’s already standing behind a few people up for seconds, waiting his turn. Walking over, you take a plate and glance down at the table ahead of you. 

“This looks good,” you think out loud. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jungkook says, glancing around. He frowns at something, moving his head to get a better look. 

“What? What’s wro–?”

His eyes widen and suddenly he’s crouching enough to remove the inches difference between you, hands gripping your arms. “Hide me.”

“What?” 

“Hide me,” he repeats, the insistence in his voice clearer than before. 

Putting your plate down, you push his shoulders lower. “I am,” you whisper harshly. “But why?” you say, glancing around. 

“No, don’t look,” Jungkook says, his tone becoming something like a whine. “She’ll come over if she sees you.”

“Who?”

Jungkook groans, eyes closing. “Why is she here?”

Ignoring his request not to look, you turn around and scan the room, looking for any familiar faces while your mind goes through a mental list of names of people who could make Jungkook want to hide before a whole breakfast buffet. Just as your name arrives at a potential suspect, the woman herself comes into your view.

“Oh.” 

Tall, glamorous and even graceful, Valentina Forero struts her preppy, perfect figure, dressed head to toe in designer and a handbag so small you’re sure not even her phone can fit in there. 

Immediately, you look away from her and down at Jungkook. He’s already looking up at you with a weary expression. Your lips form an apologetic smile and he sighs, a string of curse words coming out from his mouth in the form of a hushed whisper while he stays pressed against your side trying to hide himself from view.

Of all the things that could possibly go wrong, this has to be the single worst thing.

Valentina is Jungkook’s ex friend with benefits of almost a year. They met shortly after college at your grad party and they started off as casual and eventually there were some feelings involved but they never really bloomed. 

When Jungkook tried to end things after some months, Valentina had a lot to say and for some reason just didn’t want to let him go even though she wasn’t looking for something real. 

You don’t blame her, Jungkook attracts people like a magnet, but their relationship was a little more on the toxic side with some jealousy and so many stupid arguments no doubt stemming from the feelings that budded but never grew. It was better for both of them to call it quits, so they never made things official but to call Valentina anything less than an ex would be an injustice to some of the things they went through.

Stealing a glance at her again, you watch for a few seconds as she makes her way through the families, greeting each one with a bright smile.

As she moves, Jungkook moves too, trying to stay hidden from her view behind you. His head presses against your arm, cheek almost against your left boob.

“Um, Jungkook,” you say, smiling. “I get you’re trying to hide but uh, I don’t think this is a good look…”

“What?” he says, still distracted as he glances towards where Valentina is.

“We’re standing at a breakfast bar on a family cruise and your face is pretty close to my boobs.”

He looks up at you, eyes widening when he realises. “Oh, sorry.” He stands straight, turning to face the bar instead. 

“It’s cool,” you answer, picking up your plate again and nudging him to move forward. “”I’m sure we’ve given the Collins something to talk about for today.” Turning to your right at the eyes ogling you, you smile plastically at Mr and Mrs Collins.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters again absentmindedly as he slowly fills his plate.

“Jungkook,” you say, nudging him again as you fill your own. “It’s gonna be fine, there’s so many people here I’m sure you won’t see each other that much, and even if you do, you have me.” You’re already beaming when he looks at you, and his own eyes crease in the corners and he smiles too. “Thanks. I guess you’re right but please don’t ever let me be alone with her.”

“I won’t,” you laugh. “Although once she knows you’re here, I’m sure she’ll try to hookup with you at least once.”

“I hope not,” Jungkook sighs. “She’s not a bad girl but I just don’t wanna go back there, y’know?”

“Mhm, I know,” you say, turning towards the table your parents are seated at. “But what I don’t know is how we’re gonna get to sit without her seeing you.” You nod in the direction of your parents.

Jungkook glances around. “Let’s go sit with Alex and Thalia,” he says, nodding in the opposite direction.

Stealthily, the two of you make your way out onto the deck and approach Alex and his fiancee unseen.

“Oh, Y/N,” Thalia beams, leaning in for a hug as soon as she sees you. “You look beautiful.” 

You snort. “I woke up half an hour ago, I definitely look awful.”

“Absolutely not,’ Thalia says with a gracious wave of her hand before Jungkook gets up to greet her too. “You both look lovely and I'm so happy you’re here!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling at both her and Alex. “We’re even happier to be here and so excited for you.”

“Thank you, angel,” she winks.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Alex asks quietly, frowning as he watches Jungkook carefully. Glancing to your right, you also notice Jungkook is hunched over his food.

“You’re just drawing more attention to yourself like that,” you let him know before turning back to Alex. “Valentina is here,” you say with a small raise of your brow and both Alex and Thalia immediately let out a little “ah”.

Thalia winces apologetically when she glances back at Jungkook. “I do believe that may be on me. My mother is in the same club as her mother so it seems an invitation was deemed non-negotiable, unfortunately,” she adds, placing subtle emphasis on the last word.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, I was gonna end up seeing her again eventually at some point.”

Alex coughs, his expression changing. “I do believe that time is coming sooner than you want though.”

Jungkook frowns but you understand what Alex means, as does Thalia as you both look up just in time to see Valentina a few feet away, approaching your table.

With a smile that’s far too innocent for her, she stands at the edge of the table closest to Jungkook. “Well, hello there.”

Alex, being the sweetheart he is, is the first to respond to her greeting, and without surprise, Thalia follows quickly. “Thank you for coming,” Alex says as he gives her a quick hug.

“Thank you for having me.” Valentina steps to the side to greet Thalia too. “And congratulations, I’m so happy for both of you!”

“Thank you,” Thalia says with a genuine smile. As she takes her seat, you get up to greet her too. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Val,” you say as you meet her in a brief hug, although you can’t say you mean it but you hold no animosity towards her. 

“You too, Y/N,” she winks. 

Before she even releases you, Jungkook is getting up and already avoiding eye contact with her. “Hey,” he says, just as she leans towards him too. 

“Hello, Jungkook.” When she gives him a hug, it’s a little longer than your own but Jungkook doesn’t push away despite his expression looking like he wants to. 

Alex, Thalia and you have to fight to keep your smiles contained.

“Gosh, it’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Valentina says as she steps back and takes a seat. 

“I guess,” Jungkook says, showing little expression as he sits back down and resumes eating his breakfast. 

“Oh, come on, it’s been almost two years.” She gives him a knowing expression before flicking her hair behind her shoulder with a flamboyant flair that’s signature for Valentina. “I’m sure you missed me.” She leans her elbows on the table. “I know I’ve missed you.”

Seeing Jungkook’s constipated expression, you step in to help him out. “We all missed you, Valentina,” you smile. “It’s impossible not to.” That’s not a lie either, although she was a big personality to deal with sometimes, she still knew how to have fun and was great to talk to. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, returning your smile before turning her attention back to Jungkook. “You still look as good as you always have too, Kookie.” She leans forward and squeezes his bicep, maybe one too many times. “You’re still going to the gym I see.”

Jungkook stiffens next to you, meanwhile, your eyes are fixated on her hand on his arm. In a gesture of support, you discreetly slip your hand behind his elbow. 

Sitting across from you, your friends both notice this. Then, the cogs in the brilliant mind of Alexander Cirillo turn and he comes up with what can only be a genius idea. Perhaps it's all the romance he’s been experiencing recently with his own fiancee, but Alex is convinced that this can only have one outcome, the only possible outcome – the one that’s been written in the stars since Jungkook and you met so many years ago, he’s sure of it.

Beaming, Alex looks at Valentina. “Don’t they look so good together?”

She pauses then frowns. “Together?”

Your own expression matches Valentina’s as you glance at Alex too. 

“Yes, together,” he repeats as a fact, smiling at Jungkook and you before looking at Valentina.

“You’ve heard, no? Jungkook and Y/N are together.”

From next to you, Jungkook swallows hard and your hand subconsciously tightens around his arm. Both of you are staring at Alex and he just gives you a subtle raise of his brow. 

“Oh, my,” Valentina smiles, and although there’s some kind of genuinity to it, there’s more you can see but haven’t got the mental capacity to try to decipher right now when you’re still trying to figure out what Alex is doing.

 “I should’ve known this was gonna happen, you always were inseparable,” she says with somewhat of an eye roll. 

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, but he’s not stupid and he knows Alex isn’t either. This is one surefire way he can keep Valentina and any of her advances away from him for the next three weeks. All he has to do is pretend to be dating you… how hard can that be?

“Yeah, I guess it was meant to be,” he says, sounding a little stilted. 

You’re still sitting a little dumbfounded but Thalia also gives you an expression that tells you to improvise better. The most you can manage is a meek smile. 

Jungkook responds almost as awkwardly, putting his arm around you which makes Alex laugh.

“Oh, don’t be so coy,” he says, sneaking in a wink to you as Valentina’s eyes remain locked on you both. “It’s been almost what? Eight months?”

“Uh, yeah, almost,” you answer, suddenly feeling shy with the way Jungkook’s hand is gripping your waist. 

It’s not like he’s never had his hand on your waist before — his face was all up in your boobs only fifteen minutes ago — but the feeling remains. It makes your cheeks go warm, your heart races a little faster and your fingers go fuzzy. 

You’re sure it’s showing on your face but Valentina doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she must think it’s down to you finding this awkward. 

“Well, congratulations to you too then,” she says, wearing a smile that doesn’t actually seem anything less than genuine, but you’re aware there’s more to her words.

“Thank you,” Jungkook and you say in unison. 

Valentina nods, taking it as her cue to leave. “I’ll see you all around, and except for the engaged couple who get a pass, let’s keep the pda to a minimum please,” she adds airily, words directed to Jungkook and you as she saunters off. 

“Can’t promise anything with these two,” Alex calls out after her.

When he looks back at you, he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Thalia purses her lips in a smile that resembles a child trying not to laugh while they’re getting told off. 

Turning to them, you burst. “What the hell was that?” you say hotly, seeming more flustered than anything else. 

Alex shrugs. “Sorry, it was the best thing I could think of.” 

“It could be worse,” Thalia adds with a smile that’s supposed to be apologetic but the gleam in her eyes tells you she’s finding this just as amusing as her fiancé. 

Then, Jungkook shifts from beside you and only now do you realise you’re still holding his arm. “Well,” he says, briefly glancing down as you let go, “I guess we’re dating now.”

With a small raise of your brows, you shrug lightly and try not to show any signs of how flustered you’re feeling. “I guess so.”

When you meet his gaze, for a second you go still and think of what it means, how might you be expected to act with Jungkook — but really, it doesn’t seem that much different from how you already are now. Except of course, if you ever had to indulge in any public displays of affection, cheek kisses, lingering hugs, maybe even a peck on the lips…  

The thought of it all sets loose a swirl of butterflies in your stomach and only then do you realise that your gaze is still locked on Jungkook, and he too, is still staring at you. 

With those butterflies still swarming, you abruptly break away from his gaze and notice the tips of his ears are turning pink. You wonder if he’s thinking the same as you right now. 

“See, already believable.”

Alex’s voice interrupts your thoughts and when you turn to flare at him, he’s got a smug smirk on his face. 

“You’re supposed to be smart,” you say with a sigh, pushing down the butterflies that it almost seems like Alex knows all about. “Couldn’t have come up with something smarter?”

“This is smart,” Alex says with a hint of sass.

“How?” you sass back. 

Leaning back, he puts his arm around Thalia as his smirk grows into a smile. “You’ll see, just give it some time,” he sighs, punctuating his sentence with a wink. 

The end of the first night in Cartagena is celebrated with a formal dinner at a private venue with the most beautiful view of the coast. 

The Cirillo’s had a special menu created of authentic foods from the town and the dishes were nothing less than exquisite. So much so that Alias and you are both slumped on a hammock on the balcony with bellies full and happy. A few of the guests walk past and side eye you both, probably because Alias has ungraciously undone the top button of his suit pants but it doesn’t bother either of you. 

“Probably shouldn’t have eaten so much,” you mumble, looking up at the night sky.

“We’ve still got dessert,” Alias sighs, patting his belly. 

“Well sitting there isn’t going to help,” Jungkook’s voice says from behind you. 

Turning your head, you smile when you see Jungkook with two dessert plates in his hand. He comes and sits next to you, handing one to each of you.

Alias still manages to devour his serving in silence, but you take a little longer to eat, wondering if Valentina might be somewhere near now that Jungkook is here; you’re certain she’ll be keeping a closer eye on you both so you ought to be making a conscious effort to act more like a couple but you’re not really sure what else to do. Jungkook bringing you dessert seems couple-ish enough, even though it’s what you would do on a usual night anyway.

The three of you fall into a comfortable silence and you give Alias the rest of your dessert to finish as you collapse into the hammock again. As you do so, you feel Jungkook’s hand brush against yours and immediately you glance down at your hands, noticing how your arms and thighs are touching too. Again, it’s nothing unusual for you, but you start to wonder why it feels a little different now you’ve noticed it.

“Don’t look now,” he says, voice barely a murmur, “but she’s watching us.”

When you hum quietly in acknowledgement, his fingers brush the back of yours tentatively again and for some reason unrelated to the wind that’s blowing, you feel your skin prickling. Releasing a small breath, Jungkook curls his hand, fingers slipping between yours. The pads of your fingers press against him and you return your focus to the night sky above rather than the weird way your heart is beating now.

From your other side, Alias lets out a satisfied sigh before sitting back beside you. “So,” he says without missing a beat, “what’s up between you guys?”

“Hm?” You look at him with a small frown.

“You heard me,” he repeats with the signature boyish grin that he and his brother share. It’s enough to let you know that he knows.

“We’re, uh, together,” Jungkook answers.

Alias snorts. “You gotta sound more convincing than that, Jungkook.”

“I’d like to see you pretend to date someone,” you say, nudging his side.

Shifting to face you, Alias raises a brow. “That’s easy, watch and learn, lover boy.” He leans closer, arm moving across your chest to touch some hair behind your ears.

You get his point – Alias is close enough to lean in and kiss you if he wanted to, and the small action seems intimate enough since you’re almost laying down with him beside you.

His hand gently traces down your cheek and you giggle, finding it funny as he keeps glancing at Jungkook who shoves him back before he goes any further.

“Alright, I get it,” Jungkook says, somehow shifting even closer to you.

When you glance at him, you can’t help but giggle at his expression. He looks a little annoyed, and although you don’t think it, anyone else might think he’s crossed the fine line to jealous — Alias certainly does. 

“Alright, I know, hands off your girlfriend,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. 

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook mutters, “Yeah, whatever.”

Alias just chuckles, leaning back and resting his palm behind his head but unlucky for him, his moment of rest is short lived. 

“Oh for goodness sake Alias!” The hushed whisper of Mrs Cirillo has all of your heads turning. She appears out of nowhere beside the hammock, a look of shock and horror on her face. “Is there a reason you’re basking in the sunset with your trousers half undone?” 

“Actually,” Alias says unbothered, holding up a finger, “only the zipper is undone, so by the length of the trousers, mother, they’re nowhere near half undone.” 

Frustrated, she glances around. “People must be thinking all sorts.” She looks at Jungkook and you who smile awkwardly, sitting up straight as you hope not to get scolded. 

Mrs Cirillo is no stranger when it comes to teaching etiquette and given the many years of friendship between your families, she’s definitely not a stranger to teaching you a few things, and over the years, Jungkook too. 

She sighs when she looks at you. “Darling, you look beautiful. Jungkook, you too, please teach my son a thing or two.” She sighs again impatiently and Alias grumbles next to you as he does up his zipper. “Now, when you’ve made yourself decent, please come with me, your father wants you to meet someone,” she says, not waiting for a response.

Alias groans. “Who? I thought I had met them all.”

“Not this one,” Mrs Cirillo replies airily as she’s still walking away. “He’s just joined us tonight.”

Like the dutiful son he is, Alias gets up and follows his mother, though not without groaning about it some more.

Jungkook and you watch him go, but just like Alias, your moment of rest is short lived.

“Um, Y/N…” Jungkook’s voice sounds apprehensive and when you look at him, his expression seems the same. He’s stretching his neck and looking out towards the opposite direction of the balcony towards the main hall. “Is that… Valentina, with your parents?”

Standing up to get a better look, you realise that Jungkook is right. Valentina is mid-way greeting your parents, your mom leaning in to give her a hug. 

Looking down at Jungkook, you both realise at the same time – your parents don’t know about the two of you. 

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead – with zero regard for the high heels on your feet – he grabs your hand and rushes you towards them.

“Ow, wait, Jungkook, slow down!”

“Can’t,” he says, although you feel his pace slow down a little. “She’s gonna say something, of course she is.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong and the look on your parents face as you’re less than a few feet away from them tells you that Valentina has just said it. Your dad looks confused and your mom is frowning, her head tilting in the way it does when she’s not sure she believes something.

“Mom!” 

She turns her head to the sound of your voice, as does Valentina and your father.

“Dad,” you smile, catching your breath as Jungkook and you stop in front of them. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly next to you and you feel his hand go around your waist. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt…” he purposely avoids Valentina’s gaze. “We just, uh,” he glances at you, “we had a question.” 

“Well, so do we,” your dad starts, looking at you with the same confused expression. “What—”

“The dresses for the couple dance!” you blurt, knowing exactly what your father was about to ask. It would totally blow your cover if it seemed like your parents didn’t know about Jungkook so you need to come up with something fast. “We need to know the colours of the dresses for the couple’s dance, for the wedding.”

If your dad looked confused before, he looks almost dumbfounded now. “A couple’s dance?”

“Y/N, what couple dance?” your mom asks somewhat impatiently and you’re certain she wants to ask the same question your dad was about to, which is most likely about Jungkook and you.

“The one for the wedding,” Jungkook answers for you. “All the couples are doing a dance after Alex and Thalia, you know? At the wedding.” He squeezes your waist gently and you chuckle.

“Exactly,” you say, taking your mom's hand discreetly. “Since Jungkook and I are dancing together, well, he needs to know the colour of my dress and I’ve forgotten.” You say it with no hesitation but with the way you’re squeezing her hand repeatedly, your mom still seems confused.

She glances at Valentina who is now staring at Jungkook’s hand right around your waist, before glancing back at you. 

Taking advantage of Valentina’s momentary lapse in attention, you give her a subtle raise of your brow and hope that mother-daughter telepathy is a real thing. 

“A couple’s dance?” your father asks again. “Honey, I didn’t know about this,” he says to your mom. 

“Well, yes, I suppose I forgot to tell you,” she says, squeezing your hand back and you let out a grateful sigh of relief, as does Jungkook. 

“Y/N, your dress is periwinkle blue for the party,” she says to you before looking at Jungkook. You can see the apprehension in her expression though it’s only noticeable to you. “Jungkook, sweetheart, I’ll make sure your suit is matching with Y/N’s of course.”

“Thank you,” he nods, lips pursed. 

Together, you glance at Valentina who already seems bored. 

“Well, I’ll come find you later, Mrs L/N,” she says, already turning to step away. 

Your mom says a quick goodbye before Jungkook and you are left alone with her and your dad. 

“Is there a reason I didn’t know about this couple's dance?”

Letting out a small laugh, Jungkook pats your dad's shoulder. “Sorry, we made that up, there isn’t a couple’s dance.“

“There isn’t?”

“No, there isn’t,” your mom answers, her brow raises as she looks between Jungkook and you. “But what I would like to know is why we just had to lie and why on earth is Valentina congratulating your father and I about you two and your relationship?”

“It’s because of me,” Jungkook answers immediately which prompts a look of surprise from your parents. “I just wanted an easy way to keep away from Valentina and saying I’m with Y/N was the best way for me to do it.” He lowers his head looking a bit ashamed. 

“Well it was actually Alex who said it first,” you say, stepping forward. “He pretty much roped us into it with Valentina right there, we were clueless.” You take Jungkook’s arm and smile at your parents. “It’s just a little white lie and honestly as long as Jungkook and I are okay with it, then it’s harmless.”

“And you are okay with it?” your dad asks. 

“Sure.”

Your mother frowns, the apprehension still not having left her expression. “And Jungkook… you’re okay with it too?”

Jungkook nods. “Very okay with it.”

“Alright then, but just be wary.” Your mom glances between you both. She opens her mouth as if to say more but shakes her head instead. “Who else knows?”

“Alex, Thalia, Alias, and now you both.”

“Hm, if you want to keep it a secret then I would keep it to that. The more people who know the more likely it is to come out.”

“Yes, I agree,” your dad says, frowning as he thinks. “Although I do think it would make sense to tell Leon and Helena.”

Your mom agrees with him. “I suppose it does but it’s up to you both.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, brows raising. It’s not unusual for your parents to share something with the Cirillo’s, but when it’s something like this, a lie, you don’t imagine your parents telling them.

Jungkook shuffles awkwardly. “Uh, they’re coming over now.”

Your mom looks up, smiling as they come over. “Yes, Y/N, after all it’s not really such a big lie. Jungkook and you do everything together anyway, how much more different can this be?”

“Right,” you nod, confused by the sentiment those words make you feel — perhaps Alex isn’t so wrong, maybe you do do everything with Jungkook. It must be giving the wrong idea to people… 

Though that doesn’t matter now since you need to seem like you’re dating him. 

“Just who I was looking for,” Mrs Cirillo beams as she approaches, but instead of looking at your mom, she’s looking at you.

“Me?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yes.” She looks at Jungkook too. “And you.”

Jungkook shares the same expression as you. “Me?”

“Oh, yes, and don’t act so shy either of you.” Her smile seems rather cheeky, as does Mr Cirillo’s who stands beside her. “What’s this I hear about you two dating now, hm?”

“Oh.” Smiling hesitantly, you prepare yourself to tell them the truth as well. This feels a bit different though because you can see the excitement in Mrs Cirillo’s face, even in Mr Cirillo. 

“I mean it’s about time,” Mr Cirillo says with a deep chuckle, looking at your parents to agree. 

Jungkook looks rather pained as he looks between them both. “Who told you?”

“Alias, of course,” Mrs Cirillo says. “He said you’ve been keeping it a secret for some time though I don’t see why, this is wonderful news!” 

She waves her hand with the statement and with it, a part of you suddenly feels like you’re being let down by yourself. It’s odd to see them so happy for Jungkook and you, only for it not to be real. 

You don’t blame them though — you’ve only been pretending to date Jungkook for a day but you’re already starting to see Alex’s point a little bit more. Having Jungkook by your side just feels right. 

Come to think of it, if anyone else asked you to pretend to be their girlfriend for a few weeks, you’d definitely say no. It would be hard to act so close with someone not only emotionally but physically, whereas thinking of the way Jungkook was so close to your side just a little while ago on the hammock, fingers curled around yours, you feel yourself coil at even the thought of being with anyone else. 

That’s not unusual though, right? The only reason you can’t imagine it with anyone else is because Jungkook is your best friend. He’s the guy you’re most comfortable around and so you feel safe with him. Thoughts pausing, your gaze drifts to him as you briefly zone out from whatever joke Mrs Cirillo is making. 

Jungkook still looks on hesitantly and the way his bottom lip moves, you can tell he’s waiting to say something. As soon as he sees his chance and quickly gets a word in. “Oh, well, actually, Mrs Cirillo, it’s not really real.”

She looks towards him and frowns a little. “What do you mean?” There’s disappointment in her tone that you (for some unknown reason) can relate to.

“It’s more of a make believe relationship, if that’s one way to put it,” your dad answers albeit looking confused himself. 

Mr Cirillo appears to be on the same brainwave as your dad as he looks confused too. “That’s absurd. I believe it very much.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs Cirillo says, nodding. “Who wouldn’t?”

Pushing aside your own confused feelings, you help clear up this mess. “What we’re trying to say is that it’s not a real relationship.” You glance at Jungkook who looks at you and nods. “We’re just pretending to date.”

“Oh.” Their expressions fall, small frowns replacing the excitement in their eyes. 

“Why would you do that?” Mr Cirillo asks. 

“My ex is on the cruise,” Jungkook answers. “You probably remember her, Valentina?” 

There’s a few seconds of quiet until Mr Cirillo finds the name familiar. “Ah, yes, tall girl, Forero if I’m not mistaken?”

Jungkook nods, lips pursed. 

“So she’s the reason you’re doing this?” Mrs Cirillo gestures between Jungkook and you. 

Jungkook nods again. 

She sighs quietly. “Honestly, it all seems a bit fuddy duddy, Valentina is harmless. There’s better ways to keep someone away, Jungkook, wouldn’t it be better to just ask her to stay away from you?”

“That might come across as more rude than this,” you say with a shrug. “Also, we ought to mention that this was all Alex’s idea.”

“Alex?!” Mrs Cirillo exclaims. “Did he even ask you first?”

“Nope,” you shake your head with a smile having absolutely no qualms throwing your best friend under the bus. 

“Oh, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Mrs Cirillo turns and reaches for her husband's hand. “Leon, I do believe that boy is getting almost as troublesome as his older brother.”

Mr Cirillo laughs. “Oh, it’s just a little fun, besides, having Jungkook and Y/N pretending to play house can’t be all that bad.” He turns to Jungkook and you and winks.

You return his cheek with a smile. “It’s actually easier than it looks.”

“I’m sure it is,” he quips with a quick raise of his brow. His smirk seems telling but you don’t think anything of it at the moment as you feel Jungkook’s hand on your arm.

“Just don’t tell anyone please,” he says, chuckling nervously.

“Of course not,” Mrs Cirillo says. “I think Alex may have been onto something anyway.” She glances towards your mom and they share a smile. “Let’s get something to drink, hm?”

Your mom laughs, taking her arm. “Yes, please, I need one.”

Together, they walk off and to you it looks like they’re high schoolers sharing secrets again — you’re sure they’re going to have lots to talk about again today. 

Mr Cirillo chuckles as they go off. “Three guesses what they’re talking about,” he says quietly to your dad who shares a smile with his friend before they both turn to Jungkook and you.

“Well, I think I’m going to go and look for more dessert,” you say, slowly taking a step back to excuse yourself and Jungkook. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that too,” Jungkook says, nodding his head at your dad and Mr Cirillo.

“Of course, I’ll see you later on,” your dad smiles. His eyes fall to where Jungkook’s hand is holding your arm and his smile grows just a little wider but before you can think anything of it, Mr Cirillo makes a comment.

“That’s a nice suit you’re wearing, Jungkook.” He nods, looking visibly impressed.

“Thanks.”

Mr Cirillo continues. “I remember when you would wear your suits from those high street stores with the cheap labels but look at you now, kid.”

Pausing in your slow retreat, you blink. You’ve known Mr Cirillo all your life so you know that the comment really holds no ill intent, and also bearing in mind the fact that you know just how much he has come to admire Jungkook and cares for him as much as he does for you, but that doesn���t mean it’s okay for Mr Cirillo to make a comment like that.

Jungkook only smiles, though he doesn’t need to say anything for anyone to see that the backhanded compliment isn’t appreciated. He continues to step away but now you’re rooted firmly in the spot.

“Well with a personality like his and far more brains than most people combined, Jungkook has never needed material to make him look good, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Cirillo?” Your expression is friendly enough but your tone? Not so much.

He smiles awkwardly, immediately having understood his mistake. “Does that mean the opposite for myself?” he asks lightly.

“Oh, I’ve never thought so,” you say, smiling plastically. “Those words came from your own mouth.”

Mr Cirillo laughs. “You’re a sharp one, Y/N. That's why I like you a lot.”

“Likewise, Leon,” you wink, reaching for Jungkook’s arm. “Now we’ll be off.”

Mr Cirillo still chuckles and you catch your dad smiling at you as you walk away with Jungkook.

“Did you just call him ugly?” Jungkook asks with a small laugh once you're out of earshot. 

“I didn’t call him anything,” you shrug.

He laughs again, coming to a stop with you near the dessert table where you both browse the selection. “You know I could’ve answered myself though,” he says after a moment. 

Taking your pick, you turn to him with a small pout. It’s not the first time someone has made a comment about Jungkook that has annoyed you more than him, and you know that Jungkook prefers to pick and choose his battles wisely, unlike you always feeling as though you have to say something. 

“I know, sorry,” you wince a little. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles, taking a bowl of Eton mess. 

Together, you start walking towards the same hammock you were previously sitting at.

“I actually think it’s kinda cute,” he adds.

Your brows raise inquisitively. “Having me as your knight in shining armour?”

He shrugs, taking a spoonful into his mouth as you both sit down. “More like my princess with her many privileges.” His lips curl into a smile as he says it.

Laughing, you lean back comfortably into the hammock. “Well, of course, Mr Cirillo wouldn’t dare say anything to me.”

“And no one else other than you would insult Mr Cirillo to his face.”

Holding up your fork, you laugh again. “I only implied, there’s a difference.”

Jungkook hums, leaning back next to you. He takes a big spoonful into his mouth, eating this slowly while you steal some of his. Swallowing, he sits up a little beside you. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Do what?”

“Pretend to date me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

He shrugs. “If it makes you uncomfortable, or even if you just don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, sitting up with him.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, watching your expression for any signs of a lie. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you repeat.

With those words, Jungkook seems to relax. “Okay.” Faint traces of a smile appear on his face as he leans back. 

“The soap here smells amazing,” Thalia says, bringing her hands to her nose to sniff again a few times after drying them. 

Tossing your used hand towel in the hamper, you take a sniff too. “Mm, it does. I smell coconut.”

“And yuzu,” Thalia says, still inhaling the smell. 

Laughing, you pull her hands away from her nose as you walk out of the washroom together. 

The corridor is dimly lit as you walk back towards the restaurant but you’re very impressed by the interior, the burgundy and golden interior of this part of the venue complimenting each other well, especially with the many plants lining the corridors. 

“Where’s Alex?” you ask.

“Somewhere around here,” Thalia answers. “Honestly I lost him an hour ago after he went to check out the golf course here.”

“There’s a golf course here?” you ask, surprised. Though really you don’t know why you’re surprised, walking to the bathroom was a mission on its own, this place is huge. 

“Yeah they have everything, tennis courts, basketball, there’s even a riding school.”

At that, your ears perk up. “Are the horses available to hire?”

Thalia turns to you with a smile. “You wanna go for a canter?”

“Can we?” You ask, eyes lighting up too. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve been riding.”

“We’ll have to ask but I’m sure my dad could sort something out for us. Although we have booked a resort for when we get to Barcelona and later on in Malta too. They’re renowned for their riding instructors.”

Laughing, you walk around the next corner together. “How have you booked resorts while we’re on a cruise? I bet Mrs Cirillo had something to do with it,” you add, knowing that she always has to have everything and the best of it for her kids.

Thalia nods with a smile. “My mom and yeah, Helena. They’ve been planning this for a year, of course there’s going to be something for everyone.” 

“Strippers?” you ask, brows raising.

“Except that.”

“Hm, fair,” you say, frowning as you walk around another corner. “Anyway, I don’t really care for the instructors but it’ll have to be Barcelona. I just wanna ride, it’s been so long since I last went.”

Thalia agrees. “Sure, I’ll ask my dad, I’m pretty sure he’s already friends with the owner of the one in Barcelona so it should be easy.”

“Great,” you smile, excited by the thought, though your smile turns into a frown as you realise you’re walking by the same door you just walked out of a little while ago. 

At the same time, Thalia slows down. “Are we lost?” she asks.

Looking up at the women’s washroom sign, your frown deepens. “Yeah, I think we’ve just gone in a circle.” You look up and down the corridor, taking a few steps in the opposite direction from which you just came to follow a different path. “Maybe we should try going left from here instead?”

“There really should be a clearer exit,” Thalia huffs. “My feet hurt.”

Laughing, you glance back at her. “I don’t think anyone was taking into account the fact that people might be walking in 6-inch heels down these corridors– oh.” Mid-sentence, you bump into someone as you’re walking around the next corner. “Sorry,” you say, looking up at the guy as you feel steady hands on your arms to stop you from stumbling. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says at the same time, looking down.

Oh. 

His brows knit together before a smile breaks out on his face. “Y/N?”

“Lawrence!” A smile appears on your face embarrassingly fast. “Hi!”

He chuckles softly, taking a step back and taking his hands with him. You don’t know whether to appreciate the sweetness or be sad they’re gone.

Lawrence Goldman is one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on with a personality to match, and he was your high school crush for years. He was everyone’s crush to be honest, but even in uni, you never were able to stop swooning over him, but that’s all it’s ever been, a crush. For some reason, you could never let yourself take it further despite him showing interest a few times. 

“It’s been so long, my gosh, how are you?” he asks, eyes skimming your figure. “You look absolutely amazing,” he adds without a second thought.

“Hey again,” Thalia says, appearing beside you.

Lawrence gives her a smile, his attention quickly returning to you.

“I’m great,” you beam, “how are you? I’m surprised to see you, I thought you were working in Singapore?”

“I am,” he nods before looking at Thalia. “Well I was, but there was no way I was gonna miss this one’s wedding.”

Thalia laughs, putting her arm around him briefly. “Love you for it, Goldie.”

Lawrence rolls his eyes at the nickname and you smile. Thalia and Lawrence attended the same prep school before reuniting in college, and it’s through Lawrence that Thalia was introduced to Alex and the rest of you — your world is apparently a very small world so Lawrence being here really shouldn’t be a surprise to you, but with everything else going on, you may have forgotten about Lawrence. 

“I’ve only just joined because I had a meeting I couldn’t miss yesterday,” he adds, eyes skimming down your figure once more while he thinks you’re still smiling at Thalia but you definitely don’t miss it. 

“Ah, I see.” You can’t help it when you mirror his actions, noting how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, giving a peak of the chain he’s always worn since he Longbottom-ed — he clearly knows the effect it has. “So you’re joining us for the rest of the cruise?” When your eyes meet his again, his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Yes,” he nods. “I’ll be here.”

Noticing Thalia glancing between you both, you realise you ought to stop whatever weirdness is going on right now before she thinks there’s something between you, not that she won’t ask you herself anyway. 

“Well that’s great,” you smile, taking a step closer to Thalia’s side.

“Mhm, I’m looking forward to spending time with you,” he says.

Your response is on the top of your tongue — “so am I” — and you intend to say it with a flutter of your lashes, but before you can say anything, Thalia answers for you. 

“We all are,” she grins, hand winding around your waist where she squeezes with a light force when she says the next words. “Including Jungkook and Alex.”

For a second you’re confused but the mention of Jungkook sparks your memory and you remember everything that’s happened in the past few days.

Jungkook and you are dating — you realise now why Thalia interjected and she was right to do so, otherwise you might’ve made a silly mess by opening yourself up to flirting with Lawrence. 

“Oh, yes,” you answer, perking up. “Jungkook will definitely be happy to see you I’m sure, it’s been a while since we all met last.”

“Yeah?” Lawrence casually responds. 

“Of course,” Thalia says with a wiggle of her brows. “Y/N is his girlfriend, she would know of course.”

As you smile dutifully, you catch the confusion briefly show on Lawrence’s face before he quickly disguises it as surprise. “You and Jungkook?” he says, lips turning into a smile. It’s the kind of smile that could mean many things. 

“Yep,” you nod, lips pursed in a smile. 

Something resembling a sigh leaves him. “You guys will have to catch me up on that for sure,” he says.

“There’ll be lots to catch you up on,” Thalia grins, “but right now, can we figure out how to get out of here?”

Lawrence chuckles, stepping to the side. “Of course, I know the way.” He gestures towards the left, waiting for you and Thalia to pass. 

As you fall into stride with Thalia on one side and Lawrence on the other side, you can’t help but feel some kind of disappointment at Lawrence’s reaction, though what did you expect? 

Of course he’s not going to say or do anything differently, and as long as you’ve agreed to be Jungkook’s girlfriend, you shouldn’t want him to react any differently. You’re lucky Thalia stepped in when she did or you might’ve completely forgotten you’re supposed to be in a relationship with someone else and would’ve ended up blowing the story for Jungkook entirely. 

“Ah, here we are!” Thalia skips forward out into the late evening night.

The view on the balcony now is even more beautiful with fairy lights adorning the trees along its perimeter. Everyone you recognise seems to be congregating towards one area as it’s almost time to leave to board the cruise ship again. 

“Oh there you are.” Jungkook appears from the middle of the crowd, not seeming to have noticed Lawrence who’s more closely following Thalia. “We’re leaving soon, here.” He hands you your purse you left with him a while earlier. 

“Thanks,” you answer, taking it and checking you haven’t left anything else. “Sorry, we got a bit lost inside.”

“Mhm, that’s fine, I was just about to come look for you anyway,” Jungkook says, looking at Thalia and only then does he notice Lawrence. The lines expressing concern in his face deepen into confusion.

Seeing this change, Lawrence smiles. “Hey mate.”

In a split second Jungkook’s confused frown changes to a smile. “Lawrence!” Reaching forward, the two share a pleasant exchange. 

“It’s been a while, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad, yourself?”

Jungkook nods. “I’ve been alright.”

“Better than alright from what I hear,” Lawrence says, brow raising as he glances in your direction. 

Jungkook’s gaze follows and you smile with a little shrug, subtly nodding at Jungkook.

“Ah.” Jungkook chuckles, taking a step towards your side. “Well, yeah, better than alright,” he confirms with a very believable smile. 

Lawrence laughs, looking between you. From behind him, you catch Thalia standing beside Alex as they watch the interaction play out. 

“I think it’s amazing,” Lawrence says, patting Jungkook’s arm. “You two are great together.”

“You’ve only just seen us again,” you say with a smile. 

“Hm, I’ve seen it for years,” Lawrence replies with a nod of his head and a small sigh as he looks at you. He’s still smiling but when you look at him, the brightness in his eyes has faded. “Trust me,” he says quieter than before, “I was always watching.”

Pursing your lips, you smile but you still feel self conscious as his gaze on you doesn’t budge. “That sounds a little stalker-ish, Lawrence,” you chuckle. 

Laughing, he shrugs. “Might’ve been. I always was a bit of a recluse.”

“I wouldn’t say you were a recluse.”

He arches his brow, lips morphing into a cocky smile. “Then what would you say I was?”

Mirroring his expression, you scoff. “What d’you want me to say, huh? Tall, handsome and mysterious?”

“Took the words right from my mouth,” he says smugly. 

“Ha,” you laugh. Despite it being somewhat true, you respond to say otherwise. “You wish.”

Lawrence smiles. “Ah, I guess those words are reserved for this one, huh?” He nods towards Jungkook. 

“Hm…” you look towards Jungkook who smiles with his lips pursed. It’s not his usual full smile and behind it there seems to be a reservation that tells you he’s being more quiet than usual. Nudging him gently, you beam when he meets your eyes. “Nah, I’ve got better words for this one.”

He nods and chuckles quietly but only briefly. 

You wonder what’s caused the shift in his mood since he seemed so bright only a moment ago when greeting Lawrence. 

“Oh, you’ll have to tell me all about it, I’m interested to hear how things happened between you,” Lawrence says.

Humming quietly, you nod as your attention remains on Jungkook. “Some other time, I think we need to get moving now,” you say, nodding towards the crowd of moving guests ahead of you. 

“Ah, yes,” he answers, turning to look behind him. “I’ll see you around though, yeah?” He places his hand on your arm. 

You don’t pay much attention to it but feel Jungkook pull on your hand gently. 

“Yeah man, we’ll see you around,” he says, reaching to pat Lawrence’s arm. 

Lawrence nods, throwing you a smile before he turns and joins the rest of your party. 

As he walks away, Jungkook turns to you. “Shall we go too?”

You nod, allowing him to lead the way, hand still in yours. There’s a hum of conversation around you as everyone makes their way back towards the cars to take you to the port, but you’re grateful no one interrupts the two of you as you walk alone, a little behind the rest. 

“You okay?” you ask after a quiet moment. 

Jungkook answers almost right away. “Yeah. You?”

“Mhm.” You watch him as he kicks some of the sand beneath his feet with every step. “You sure though?”

He turns to look at you, a smile on his lips though his brows furrow a little in the middle. “Yeah, why?”

“Just,” you shrug. “I thought you seemed a bit quiet back there with Lawrence.”

Jungkook turns away and shrugs. “I’m all good, no reason not to be.” 

It’s not exactly convincing to you, but you take his word for it. If it’s something he wants to tell you, he’ll tell you in his own time if he wants to. Or, it’s actually just nothing and you’re overthinking this for no reason. After all, there is no explanation that you can think of for Jungkook to be upset with Lawrence, especially when he was so happy to see him just now. Yes, you’re just overthinking it. 

“Y/N, Jungkook, please be on time for breakfast tomorrow and not an hour late like last time,” your mother scolds airily as she waves her hand behind her. 

“Yes, mom,” you smile as she turns into her cabin. 

“Will do,” Jungkook nods, raising a hand to say good night to your parents. 

Once their door is closed, Jungkook continues to walk with you towards your cabin. 

“You better wake up earlier this time,” you yawn, pulling out your key card. 

Jungkook scoffs, coming to a stop next to your door. “Me?!” He rests his hand against the door frame, leaning closer. “You’re the one who was still sleeping when I came down.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You have no proof.”

He matches your smile, cocking his head. “Alright, I’m recording you tomorrow morning, don’t get mad at me when I get your bed head and dried dribble face on camera.”

“Hey,” you pout, leaning against the door frame. “I don’t dribble.”

Jungkook shrugs, smiling. ”Tomorrow I’ll have proof.”

You narrow your eyes at him, internally vowing to wake up early so you can be ready before he comes to you. “There’s no—“

“Oh, Jungkook, Y/N!” 

The sickeningly sweet cotton candy voice has your smile faltering. Jungkook winces, his face hidden from Valentina as she approaches from behind you. 

Slowly, you turn around to face her.

“Well isn’t this just perfect,” she beams, coming to stop beside you both. “We’re neighbours here!” 

Chuckling, you nod your head. “That really is perfect.” 

Valentine smiles again, glancing between the two of you before shrugging. “Well,” she sighs, opening her purse to look for her key card. “Don’t mind me, I was just grabbing a few things. You two enjoy your night.” She waves airily but doesn’t move. 

“Mhm, you too,” you nod. 

As she pulls out her key card, she’s just about to walk away before she pauses to focus on Jungkook and a delicate frown appears on her face. 

Glancing at him, you’re not surprised to see she’s frowning. Jungkook hasn’t said a word and he looks rather pained right now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” She tilts her head. “You look a little…” She steps closer, frown deepening as she moves until all of a sudden she stops. “Oh.” Her eyes widen, an apologetic pout appearing on her face. “I see, was I interrupting something?” She asks, pointing between you both. 

For a second you’re confused — yes, she interrupted your conversation with Jungkook and she knows that already — but then you remember that you’re supposed to be in a romantic relationship with Jungkook, and the expression on Valentina's face tells you she thinks she’s interrupted something else. 

Jungkook is obviously just as confused. “Huh?”

“You’re both going to bed now, are you not?”

He frowns. “Uh, yeah…”

“Yes, I thought so. Apologies then…” She glances down towards Jungkook’s crotch as the words that follow imply it — “oh, sorry, I must’ve put that fire out.”

A strangled noise escapes Jungkook’s throat and he looks relatively mortified. “What?— no!” He takes a step closer to your side while you somehow pull him closer to your side protectively in an attempt to hide him from her. 

Valentina doesn’t respond to the expressions on neither of your faces and only sighs disappointedly, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. “I remember there was a time when I was the one to ignite the fire in your loins.”

The same strangled noise comes from Jungkook and you have to stop from bursting out into laughter. 

“Val,” Jungkook says, “were you not going somewhere?”

“Oh, yes.” She perks up, smiling brightly again. “Well you two lovebirds go ahead.” 

Just when you expect her to walk away, she doesn’t. In fact she stands there waiting for Jungkook and you to go into what she thinks is your shared cabin. 

“We will,” Jungkook says with the fakest smile you’ve seen on him.

Valentina only nods, still waiting.

Jungkook is about to say something again but you know there’s no point. Unlocking your door, you pull him into your room with you. “Bye, Val.”

“Good night,” you hear her respond as the door closes shut. 

Turning around to face Jungkook, you look at him with an expression crossed between shock and amusement. “Oh my God, how did you ever date her?!”

Jungkook groans, collapsing face down onto the end of your bed. “I swear she isn’t that bad, she’s doing it on purpose,” he says, muffled into the sheets.

Humming, you sit at the end of your bed beside him. “I guess so.” You lie down so you’re level with him.

Lying beside him, it’s quiet for a moment as you replay the exchange in your head. “So, she must’ve really been something if she was igniting the fire in your loins.” You can’t help but snort after saying it and Jungkook laughs beside you too, head still buried. 

Now that Valentina isn’t here, you allow yourself to laugh at it and you’re glad Jungkook does too. By the time you’re done laughing at it, you’re wiping away tears.

Lifting his head, he shakes his head. “This isn’t gonna be easy,” he says. 

“Yeah, she really doesn’t make it easy,” you respond quietly. 

Both of you fall silent for a moment again, listening carefully to see if you can hear her footsteps. 

“I can’t hear her anymore,” Jungkook says.

“Me neither.” You turn to look at him. 

He props himself up on his elbows. “So what now?”

“Well, we could wait till she goes away and then you sneak out,” you think aloud. “But how are we gonna do that every night?”

Jungkook nods, understanding. “So I should just stay?”

“I’m cool with it if you are,” you shrug.

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, then he looks at you with a soft frown creasing his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“Totally sure,” you nod, rolling onto your side to lean on your elbow. “Besides, it’s not like we’ve made things easy for ourselves,” you add with a laugh. 

The lines seem to have disappeared from Jungkook’s face but when your eyes search for some kind of clue to his feelings, you find something you can’t decipher hiding behind the brown of his eyes. 

He smiles, releasing a soft breath as he does so, and only now do you realise how close your face is to his. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me if you feel uncomfortable?” he says. 

Nodding, you lift your pinky finger. 

He raises his own hand and closes his own pinky finger around yours. 

“I will,” you promise him.

His smile grows and oddly, you feel your heart do a little flutter in your chest as a warm feeling spreads through you. You’re suddenly reminded of how you felt earlier on in the evening as you lay on the balcony with Jungkook… has he always made you feel this way? Before you can let yourself think about it, Jungkook is leaping off the bed and with him, the feeling disappears. 

“So, I don’t plan on having your mum tell me off tomorrow morning so I’m going to sleep.” He turns to look at you, placing his hand on his hips.  “Slight problem though, my clothes are in my cabin.” 

“Then go get them, duh,” you answer.

“What if Valentina is still outside?” he says, pointing to the door. “It’s only been a few minutes, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to eavesdrop on us right now.”

“Hmm…” you can’t deny he has a point. “Well I guess,” you say, dropping your voice to a whisper, “you won’t know until you try.”

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, grabbing his phone from the bed. 

You follow him to the door and you’re actually almost surprised when he opens it to reveal no one is there. Jungkook turns to look at you sporting a similar expression on his face and shrugs before stepping out. 

“I guess that makes things easier for us—“

You’re interrupted mid-sentence as Jungkook immediately turns back into the room with a slightly panicked expression, barging into you. 

“Jungkook!” Losing your balance, you feel yourself falling backwards with Jungkook stumbling forward. Your ass hits the floor first and you just manage to bring your arms behind you in time but your head still hits the carpeted floor behind you, and Jungkook who seems to fall in slow motion with you, eventually lands on top of you. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pushing himself up onto his forearms.

“That really hurt,” you groan, squirming on the floor. You’re grateful the floor is carpeted but both your head and ass still hurt. 

Jungkook looks down at you with concern replacing any previous features. “Where?” 

Rubbing the back of your head, you frown at him. “Everywhere. Why’d you turn back?”

“She’s right there!” Jungkook suddenly whispers instead. “She was practically having sex against the wall with some guy.”

Still recovering from your fall, you look at him confused. “What?”

Jungkook grimaces. “She was outside her room with some guy.”

“But we just saw her!” you respond in a hushed whisper. 

“I know! He must’ve been close by and they were making out like their lives depended on—” 

“Well, this is interesting.”

Rolling your eyes at the sound of her voice, you let your head drop back onto the floor while Jungkook scrambles to move off of you. Moving beside you, he reveals Valentina standing at the door, her lipstick smudged and her hair a bit messier than it was a little while earlier.

She narrows her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Foreplay on the floor is new to me, and leaving the door open…” She looks directly at Jungkook. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism.”

Jungkook visibly freaks out, getting up and pulling you with him. “No, gosh, it was an accident.”

Valentina frowns. “I don’t judge, Jungkook,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he replies almost exasperatedly. “But this was just an accident, we fell over.”

“Hm, okay,” she says with a shrug as she glances at the bed. 

You know she doesn’t believe him but really there’s nothing else you can say to make her think otherwise. Besides, you don’t really care what she thinks while your head still hurts. 

“Well, anyway, I’ve got to go.” She looks back at you with a smirk. “How about we both do our best to keep it down tonight, hm?” she winks before turning and fluttering her fingers. “Ta-ta angels, see you in the morning!”

As soon as she’s disappeared from view, you go shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood. 

“Okay, she is so doing it on purpose.”

“I know,” Jungkook agrees almost immediately. “I don’t get why though.”

“I know why,” you say, raising your brows. “She probably still isn’t over you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “If anything, she’s just not used to people moving on from her. Her exes were always all over her when we were together.”

“So she expects you to go crawling back to her?”

“Pretty much,” he shrugs. “She’s really not helping herself though. Maybe I should talk to her, tell her to just give me space…” He looks at you, raising his brow in question.

“You could, but I reckon she’ll just act innocent and pretend she has no clue what you’re talking about.”

“True,” Jungkook sighs.

“Look, it’s fine,” you say, walking over to the drawer. “It’s just Val, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Throwing a set of satin pyjamas on the bed, you turn around to face him again. “Besides, I’m tired now, my head hurts and I’d like to sleep.”

The frown on Jungkook’s face doesn’t disappear. “It still hurts?” he asks, coming over to you. 

“Yeah, you knocked me over pretty hard, my ass hurts too,” you pout.

Jungkook chuckles, hands coming to rest on your shoulders and he squeezes gently. “Want me to massage it?” he jokes.

“Ooh, good idea. Let’s leave the door open too,” you laugh.

Jungkook smiles, still giving you a shoulder massage and you feel yourself letting go slowly. 

“Mm,” you hum softly, head relaxing. Jungkook steps closer and you let your forehead rest against his chest.

You don’t realise as Jungkook’s hands stop working and gently make their way around your waist, holding you up as you get lost in the warmth of his embrace.

“Should we go to bed before you fall asleep here?” Jungkook says after a moment. 

Pulling away from him, you smile with tired eyes. “Dibs on the bathroom first.”

Jungkook obliges and sits down on your bed while you go first. When it’s his turn, he goes quickly since he has the most minimal night time routine, one of which you’ve always been envious of. 

You’re just finishing brushing your hair when he’s coming out.

“What time is it?” he asks, stepping out as he dries his face. 

“Almost two,” you respond, getting up to walk over to your pyjamas on the bed. 

Jungkook turns around without being told, facing the opposite direction. “D’you think I could go get my clothes from upstairs now?”

You pull on your pyjama bottoms. “Probably not. I don’t think I have anything that would fit you either.”

“What do I do then?” Jungkook asks, his confused tone making you laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t sleep naked half the time, Jeon.”

“Well when I’m alone, yeah. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“I’m not, don’t worry.” You clamber into bed, pulling the sheets up to your shoulders as you get comfortable. “Just get into bed.”

Still facing away from you, Jungkook shrugs before pulling off his top. You don’t realise you’re staring at him strip until he starts pulling down his pants.

Abruptly, you pull the covers up even higher so you can’t see him. You hear him shuffling and then he stops but you can’t feel him getting into bed.

“Really?” he says. “My abs offend you that much?”

You can’t help but laugh, still keeping your eyes closed as you move the sheets down but place your hand in front of your eyes instead.  “Actually, they make for pretty good eye candy.”

Jungkook gasps scandalously, still shuffling about the room. “Have you been checking me out, Y/N?”

Cocking your head, you smile. “Now what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t appreciate you and your God given looks, hm?”

“A terrible one.”

“Exactly.”

“So why are you covering your eyes?” he asks, his voice growing louder as you feel the covers move beside you. 

“Because there’s another friend of yours that I don’t think I should be seeing as your best friend,” you say, ignoring the way you feel your cheeks go warm when you say it, and especially the way Jungkook’s deep chuckle sounds as you notice the bed dip beside you.

“He’s covered,” he says quietly.

“Not enough.”

Jungkook laughs again and this time you can feel his body beside yours. “That friend is hidden safe and sound, Y/N. You can look now.”

Peeking your eyes open slowly, you see Jungkook right beside you in bed. He’s sitting up, smiling down at you with his abs eye level to you. You’ve seen Jungkook topless before plenty of times, but being this close and being in bed with him is new to you. You’re sure it’s the reason you feel your heart rate rising. 

“Good,” you say, turning away. “Now hide the eye candy please. It’s bedtime, I’ve brushed my teeth and I’m not trying to get a cavity.”

Jungkook laughs, sliding down further into the bed to cover himself up to his shoulders. 

“They’re that sweet, huh?”

“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t, all that time in the gym would just be a waste.”

“Now that’s true,” Jungkook says with a smile, shifting in the bed so he’s more comfortable.

You hum quietly, staying still as Jungkook moves. Only once he’s found his comfortable position, then you do the same, turning onto your belly facing him. 

Jungkook happens to be facing you too and he smiles sleepily as his eyes close. “Good night, Y/N.”

Your eyes remain open for a few seconds as you look at him a little longer. “Mhm, night Koo,” you whisper, smiling even though he can’t see you. 

He looks pretty when he sleeps. You take in every one of his features, unaware that there is still a smile on your face as you do so.

Catching you unaware, Jungkook winks an eye open. “What’re you looking at, hm?” he asks softly with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

You feel flustered, eyes going wide. “There’s something on your face,” you say quickly, brushing nothing off of his face. “Eyelash or something,” you mutter, subconsciously shifting away from him a little since the close proximity definitely isn’t helping. 

“Uh-huh,” he nods, hiding a smile. 

You’re not sure what it is about his smile that makes your heart skip a beat and your senses go fuzzy like they’ve done so more than once now because of Jungkook. It’s odd, he’s not doing anything different, yet you feel different. Mentally, you officially dub this The Jungkook Effect. 

There’s not much you can say to defend yourself so you press your eyes shut and fight back a smile yourself. “Well, anyway, good night.”

“You sure you wanna sleep?” Jungkook teases. 

“Oh shut up,” you say with a laugh, you pull one of the pillows out from behind your head and place it in the small space between your torsos. 

Jungkook lifts his own head off his pillow and looks down at it with an amused smile. “Is this really necessary?”

Lifting your own head and resting on your palm, you arch your brow at him. “I’ve read enough books to know what happens when two people who aren’t dating share a bed.”

Jungkook mirrors your expression and dares to move an inch closer. “And what’s that?”

Smiling like the little know it all you are, you answer, “They wake up in the morning with someone’s cute ass, which would be mine in this case, conveniently pushed up against someone’s dick.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirk on his lips is clear as day. “Ah, which would be mine,” he says, briefly looking down. His lips look wet when he says it and for some reason you find yourself wanting this conversation to continue on the same wavelength it is right now… but it’s also at this moment you realise you’re lying in bed and practically flirting with your best friend.

“Exactly,” you say, letting out a small breath as you fall back into your pillow, looking up to the ceiling.

Pursing his lips, Jungkook hides a smile. “Well I guess we definitely don’t want that to happen.”

You stifle a laugh as you lightly whack him with the pillow between you before putting it back in its place. “Shut it, Jeon.” 

He chuckles, falling back into his pillow. “Just kidding,” he murmurs, sliding further beneath the covers and getting comfortable. “Good night, Y/N.”

With a tired smile, you hum. “Good night, Koo.”

The stops at St Tropez and Nice both pass as quickly as the first few cities in Spain and before you know it, you’ve visited all the cities scheduled for France too. The stop in Barcelona has been your favourite so far though — the resort the Diamindis’ booked for the families on the cruise most definitely did not disappoint and the riding you got to do was just a big bonus, especially watching Alias struggling with his mare. 

The whole Jungkook situation has been pretty easy to navigate too. Now that the important people in your life know it’s not real, it makes it easier and Jungkook and you only need to behave as you normally do so you’re both happy. On top of that, you’ve noted that you haven’t had any more experiences with the Jungkook effect, though you’re not sure you can say that pleases you. 

It’s also been a while since you’ve hung out with Lawrence. He seemed to stay close in the first few days but you figured it must be his parents encouraging him to socialise with some of the other families since he’s not at home much. This became true enough when you saw him stuck at a table in some fancy restaurant in Nice with the Maddison’s. 

Although you did hope to get to spend some more time with Lawrence, at least for old times sake, you can’t say you care much, especially since Sophia has finally joined you. 

“Why don’t we go to the pool?” you say, raising your brows at Sophia. It’s almost midnight but you’re still lounging on a quieter deck with Jungkook and Alias. Since it’s a sea day tomorrow, you don’t need to be up early and it seems like it’ll be more fun than the last time now that Sophia is here too.

She perks up at that, turning towards you. “It’s closed right?”

“Yep, but that just makes it better,” you smile, ignoring Jungkook and Alias scoffing at your change in opinion — last time you were adamant that you should be following the rules. 

“Okay, let’s do it.” She looks at Jungkook and Alias. “You guys joining us?”

“Sure,” Alias hops up. “It’ll be fun to see Y/N break the rules,” he grins at you.

Sassing him, you get up too. “This time I’m pushing you in.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Alias tenses, flexing his biceps. “I’m 73 kilos of this,” he nods.

It’s no secret that Alias has an impressive figure, but unwilling to cave, you just roll your eyes and playfully swat his arm. “Whatever.”

“Alright, let’s meet at the top deck pool in ten minutes?” Jungkook says hopping up from the lounge. 

“Make that fifteen,” Sophia says. “I don’t know where I put all my swimsuits.”

Agreeing, you all head towards the upper decks, only splitting up to go towards your respective corridors to your cabins. Sophia and Alias go right towards the corridor where their family cabins are situated, while Jungkook and you still need to walk a little further to get back to your shared cabin.

Surprisingly, it’s been easy to share a cabin with Jungkook. Most days you come back from whatever activity you had that day and knock out easily since you’re so tired. On top of that, your pillow idea seems to be working perfectly and you haven’t experienced any awkward or uncomfortable moments. There have, however, been a few times you’ve mistaken the pillow for Jungkook and in the split second it takes you to realise it’s only the pillow, you can swear your heart skips a beat and your pulse races. The disappointment that follows is something you can’t seem to explain to yourself. 

“So Sophia comes and all of a sudden you’re Little Miss Daredevil, huh?” Jungkook says, as you walk together. 

You glance at him and note how handsome he looks today. After spending some time in the sea while in Nice, his dark locks are curled and framing his face perfectly. He walks with his hands in his short pockets and the linen material of his shirt blows in the evening air giving the occasional glimpse of his lean figure. It occurs to you that this is going to be coming off in a short while when you go to the pool—

Oop. You pause your thoughts, realising that the little flutter you just felt down south was definitely due to picturing your best friend topless. A part of you feels guilty wondering if Jungkook would be embarrassed, but you also know that Jungkook knows what you think of his physique. You pretty much said it all the other night and he’s caught you looking plenty of times before that, even making jokes about it when you did.

“She brings out that side of me,” you sigh, smiling as you descend the steps that lead towards your corridor.

“Alias and I aren’t good enough for you, huh?”

“Don’t take it personally,” you joke, and Jungkook just laughs quietly so he doesn’t wake up anyone as you walk past some cabins. 

Once back at your own, you quickly change into a bathing suit and throw on a hoodie and shorts so in case any staff see you, they don’t suspect you’re planning on going to the pool.

Alias is already waiting at the top deck and you can also see he’s brought some drinks along with him. He’s chosen not to cover up and is revealing his washboard abs for the whole world to see, and let’s not forget those killer thighs of his. 

“Beat you here,” he says without even thinking.

“Who was counting?” Jungkook says, bumping shoulders with him on purpose. 

“I was,” Alias responds, and quickly the two resort to their childish antics as Jungkook pulls him into a headlock. You choose to sit and watch, dipping your toes in the pool as you throw your hoodie to the side. 

“Guys, shut up, we can hear you from a mile away,” you hear Sophia’s voice from behind you as she climbs the steps to your deck. 

Jungkook and Alias stop mid-wrestle and you get up to pull your shorts off. 

“Huh?” Alias frowns, pulling himself free from Jungkook. “We?”

Once Sophia is standing on the deck, you see someone else coming up behind her. 

Lawrence. 

Sophia steps to the side as he steps up. “Yeah, we,” she repeats. 

“Hey guys,” Lawrence says with a harmless smile, glancing across at you all.

“Hey,” you smile back.

“Oh, hey man,” Alias waves. 

Jungkook smiles too with a nod of his head. 

“I saw Lawrence on the way so I thought I’d ask him to join us,” Sophia explains as she too pulls off an oversized hoodie. 

“I hope that’s alright,” Lawrence chuckles awkwardly.

“The more the merrier,” Alias says with a shrug. “So,” he looks at you, “who are we pushing in first?”

“You,” you smile. 

Alias spreads his arms, inviting you. “I’d love to see you try, babe.”

Glancing to his right, you subtly raise your brow at Jungkook who smiles back at you. In a split second, Alias is being lifted from the ground and tossed into the pool. 

Sophia and you jump into the pool right after, surfacing close to Alias.

“I thought we were friends,” he laughs at Jungkook splashing water towards him. “Gosh, I forgot how whipped you are.” 

Jungkook just laughs and shrugs. “Sorry, man,” is all he says.

“You getting in?” Sophia asks Lawrence as she joins you next to the pool, dipping your toes first. 

He nods. “I guess.” He glances around looking at the empty surroundings. This top deck is pretty big considering it’s wholly private.

“What?” Alias holds out his arms. “We’re not good enough for you?” he jokes. 

“Of course you are,” Lawrence says before he shrugs, lips curving into a smile. “I just think with all this space, we could do something more.”

“Oh.” Sophia raises her brows, intrigued. “Like what?”

She speaks for all of you as you all look at him.

“I risk sounding like a five year old,” he says with a small laugh, “but how about hide and seek.” He looks around again. “We’re on a ship, we’ve got plenty of hiding spaces.”

The rest of you glance at each other and it’s clear that you’re all in agreement.

Alias jumps out of the pool. “Alright, but it’s hide and seek chase.” He grabs a towel and dries himself off. “I’m it first,” he adds with a devilish smile.

“Even better,” Lawrence says, pleased that everyone is on board. “Are we splitting up or staying together?”

“I’ll go with Y/N,” Jungkook says, approaching your side as you get up from the side of the pool. The air is chilly to your wet skin but you quickly warm up as Jungkook helps you pat dry.

“I’ll stay with Lawrence,” Sophia says, walking over to his side.

“Alright let’s stick to the top two decks when hiding, but if I’m chasing you, we can go anywhere,” Alias says, pulling on a linen tee.

“Where’s the base?” you ask, covering yourself up too. 

“Here?” Sophia proposes.

“Or only inside the pool,” Jungkook adds to the suggestion with a shrug.

Lawrence nods in agreement, as do the rest of you.

“Alright,” Alias smirks. “Ready?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before starting to count down, “one hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight…”

The rest of you bolt immediately knowing that 100 seconds with Alias will only be 50, if that.

Sophia doesn’t even wait for Lawrence’s confirmation before running in the direction she came from but he follows her anyway.

With a tight hold on your hand, Jungkook pulls you in the opposite direction, already running faster than you can keep up with. 

“Slow down,” you laugh, squeezing his hand.

“C’mon,” he says without turning back and without slowing down. “We gotta get away first, he’s only gonna count to ten.”

Just as you suspected, even with the distance that’s been put between you already, you can hear Alias yell out for you all to hear.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

You’re just grateful there’s no cabins near here. 

It feels like you’re running for a mile, starting outside before Jungkook takes you through a door and down multiple corridors and even two smaller staircases you had no idea existed. He’s slower now which comes and a relief to you, but you’re still panting from all the sprinting.

“Koo, where the hell are we going?” you ask, tugging on his hand to make him stop.minutes, you find yourself on a part of the ship you’ve never been to before.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” you say, not really caring about being lost because you’re just glad Jungkook stopped running.

“No, I’ve been here before.” Judging by the way he’s walking, it does seem like he knows where he’s going. “We’re near our cabin.” 

“Really?” You look around, frowning at your surroundings. “I don’t recognise it.”

“Yep,” Jungkook takes your hand as he taps his pass on a door to go down a corridor which you still don’t recognise but from the smell, seems to be near the kitchen. 

“Wait, Jungkook…” you pause, looking back at a small sign above where Jungkook tapped his card. Staff only. “How?” you ask in bewilderment.

Jungkook just pulls you forward with a smug look on his face “Alias gave it to me. He got one for himself and Alex too.”

Of course he did. “He’s trying to get us kicked off, I swear.”

“It’s just for a little fun,” Jungkook grins. “Besides, this way, we can win the game.”

“Yeah, except Alias can get in here too then.”

Coming to a split in the corridor, Jungkook stops. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles. “Well, 

“Hey!”

Jungkook and you both turn on the spot to the sound of a voice from ahead of you. It’s a member of staff, the same one from the night Alias and Jungkook jumped in the pool. He seemed pretty mad at the time and seeing his expression now as he starts walking towards you, he seems the same. You don’t blame him, he was chasing you guys for the better part of ten minutes.

“Run?” Jungkook whispers, his fingers clasping yours tightly.

“Run,” you nod.

Before you know it, your legs are moving as Jungkook leads you down the closest corridor.

“Hey! Stop!” 

You almost feel bad about running away, but at the same time, you know that the guy is only trying to stop you to feed whatever power trip he’s on, so you keep running as fast as you can to try to keep up with Jungkook.

“Do you know where you’re going?” you huff, looking over your shoulder.

The guy is right behind you. 

“No,” Jungkook laughs, slowing down as he sees a corridor to his right. 

“Keep going,” you laugh too, pulling him down the corridor before the guy can catch up. 

“Oi, I said stop!” he yells.

“What d’you think, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, though he shows no sign of stopping. “Should we listen to him?”

“Never,” you respond, glancing back again. He seems to be slowing down but you don’t stop yet. This time, you take the lead and go down a smaller corridor which you realise leads to a staircase.

“Up,” Jungkook ushers you, letting you go first. Luckily it;s a short one and Jungkook comes up close behind you.

“Left or right?” you ask, glancing down the corridor. The left leads to a door which heads outside, the right leads to a door which seems to hide a dimly lit corridor.

Jungkook takes your hand again, going left. As he pushes the door open, you hear the guy is still coming close behind you. “Stop,” he yells.

You’re honestly surprised he’s still chasing you but you’re also tired now and really just want to stop. “Koo, I think I have asthma,” you breathe out, feeling your steps slow down.

Jungkoook chuckles, looking back at you. “Y/N, we’ve been through this before, you don’t have asthma.”

You would pout because you know he’s righ and you still want to stop but you also don’t want that guy to catch up to you. 

Still, Jungkook glances around while jogging as though he’s looking for something. “Ah, there!”

You’re too tired to ask what, only letting Jungkook lead you across the deck to a door which takes you back inside. As you enter, you see the staff still coming behind you. Gosh, he’s bothered. After only a few yards, Jungkook uses the staff pass to open a door on your right. Inside is a small room with a few shelves lining the walls and one big one in the middle; it’s full of rescue equipment.

“What the hell, Koo?” you laugh, letting him take you inside as he closes the door quickly. 

He takes you to hide behind the biggest shelf in the middle of the room. With your back pressed against it, he stands close in front of you so he can still see the door.

When you look up at him, you see a massive grin on his face and that mischievous gleam in his eyes that you love.

“You’re crazy,” you murmur, restraining a laugh.

“Shh,” he whispers, placing his hand beside your head as he takes the smallest step closer, one that’s enough for you to feel the warmth of his breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. 

The sensation makes you fall quiet anyway and you’re sure that even if you did speak, no one from outside would be able to hear you, but you’re rather enjoying the feeling of having him this close to you. The smell of his perfume – your favourite – fills you with every heavy inhale as you catch your breath too, and suddenly, you find this feeling familiar.

That damned Jungkook effect. 

Since you’re stuck here hiding for a few moments, you can do nothing but just embrace it as it comes. Apparently you’re embracing it a little too much as you don’t realise your eyes close and your head slowly moves closer to his chest. It just feels so good being this close to him – feeling his warmth, smelling him… his body is so close to yours, you wonder what would happen if you just took another step forward and–

“You okay there?” Jungkook’s voice comes out low with a humorous lilt.

‘“Hm?” Your eyes go wide as you realise your head was resting on his chest. “Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling your cheeks go warm. “I’m tired, it’s late.”

“Mhm, that’s okay.”

Looking up, you see the mischievous gleam in his eyes has changed to something playful. 

“You can use me as a pillow anytime,” he adds with a wink.

Scoffing, you poke him in the chest. “Well I gotta put these pecs to use somehow.”

He laughs quietly before poking his head out to the side. “Come on, I think he’s gone and we’ve got a game to get back to.”

You follow him to the door and find the corridor empty, thankfully. “Alias has probably already found the other guys.”

“That would make us the winners.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to get back to base first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jungkook pauses, looking around. “Where is the base from here?”

“Um…” Stopping beside him, you look around too. It’s hard to tell when it’s dark but there’s some parts of the deck which look familiar to you. “I think we keep going forward.”

“Actually, I think we’ve passed the way up.”

“What?” you frown, looking up confused. 

“Well the pool was at one of the top decks and there’s one way up which we missed, no?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jungkook looks down at you, his brows raised. “Really?”

“Really,” you say, taking his hand to tug him along, except he doesn’t move. When you look back at him, you see he’s got his brows raised with a smile, one that only spells a challenge. 

“Oh, c’mon, Koo,” you sigh. 

He shrugs before swinging your hand. “Let’s see who gets there first then,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

“Fine,” you shrug, already turning away from him. “Just be careful Alias doesn’t get you on your way.”

“I’ll be fine, just look out for yourself,” he responds as he already starts skipping back the other way. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to look at your surroundings. You’re sure there’s a small staircase somewhere near here that you’re supposed to go up which should be close to the pool. It’s when you’re glancing around now that you realise it’s actually quite scary being alone on an empty deck late at night with no company but the sea.

Taking a few steps back, you look down the way you came to see if Jungkook might still be there but of course he’s not – he’s probably running to make sure he gets back before you.

Sighing, you continue down the path that seems familiar to you, only to hear a small bang from somewhere in front of you. Immediately, you’re relieved to see Lawrence coming around the corner ahead of you.

He smiles when he sees you. “Hey,” he says, voice hushed. 

“Hey,” you answer, looking behind him. “Was that bang you?”

He looks back, confused for a split second before he nods. “Oh, yeah, I just jumped down the last few steps when I was coming down.”

“Right. Where’s Alias and Sophia?”

“Well Alias tried to get me just a little while ago but I lost him,” he says, looking proud of himself before he frowns. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“We split up,” you answer with a smug smile. “He thinks the base is back this way.” You point in the direction that he went in. “But I know it’s this way.” You point in the opposite direction.

Lawrence chuckles, looking at you somewhat endearingly though it goes unnoticed by you. “Uh, Y/N, it’s the other way.”

“Huh?” you frown, looking back. “Really?” 

“Yep,” he nods, hiding an amused smile. “I can show you the way if you like?”

Sighing in defeat, you agree to go with him. “It’s not like I have any chances of beating him now.”

“Ah,” Lawrence sighs as he falls into stride beside you. “Still got the competitive streak I see?”

“Me?” you laugh quietly, glancing at him.

“Mhm, you,” he says matter-of-factly, still sporting a smile.

Looking at him now, you note how relaxed and care-free he seems. You’re not sure whether it’s because his usually swept back hair is now falling freely, or if it’s because of the glow on his face from the light sheen of sweat from the humidity of the evening air. It’s nice to see him like this, even the smile is a difference – growing up he always seemed so mysterious and quiet which no doubt had to do with the pressure he faced as an only child and a big family name to live up to. 

“Well, it’s good you remember. I won’t be losing today either,” you say with a playful nudge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he laughs. “If we bump into Alias, I’m ditching you fast.”

“I hope so, you’re dead weight to me.”

“Hey!” He nudges you back as he still laughs, loosely running his hand through his hair.

“Mm, remember when we were kids?” you say, suddenly reminiscing. “We used to do this stuff all the time.”

Lawrence nods. “I do,” he says with a smile. “There was one Christmas, we all went up to that chalet in… oh, where was it?” he frowns, looking at you. “Courchevel?”

“Hm…” You shake your head as it rings a bell. “I don’t think so, there was only one year we celebrated Christmas abroad all together and it wasn’t in France.”

“Switzerland?”

“Yes!” You say, pointing your finger at him as you suddenly remember the finer details of the trip.  “At St Moritz, we had that massive suite at Kempinski.”

“That's the one,” Lawrence says with a smile matching yours. “D’you remember those nights we would always want to go out but our parents never let us? So we used to run around hiding from them.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I remember Leon and Helena would get so mad, even I was scared of them but their own kids never even cared.”

“My parents got mad too but we still did it every night,” Lawrence laughs, his walk slowing down as the two of you approach the bow. “I wonder how he were so brave,” he continues, “I bet it was Alias’s idea, all the fun stuff was always his idea.”

“Mm, actually, I think it was yours,” you say, tilting your head towards him. 

“Really?” Lawrence questions, brow raised as he walks closer to the ledge overlooking the tranquil evening sea though you can’t actually see much besides a distant glittering coastline. 

“Mhm, really,” you nod, coming to stand beside him.

Lawrence turns so he’s facing you, a thoughtful expression on his face but his lips are still curved in a smile as they have been this whole time. “I’m surprised you remember.”

You shrug. “I remember a lot of things.”

Lawrence opens his mouth as though to say something before closing it. 

“What?” you ask, turning to face him too. 

He shakes his head. “I was about to ask something but it’s probably gonna sound stupid.”

“Stupid questions are my favourite to answer,” you say with a smile. 

He arches a brow, his smile changing to something more timid. “D’you remember a lot about me or just everything in general?”

You laugh, not having expected that. Lawrence isn’t really the conceited type so you don’t think it’s coming from a place of vanity, and the shy hesitancy he says it with almost makes him seem cute — like he wants you to say him.

“Both I guess,” you answer honestly. 

He laughs too, one that reminds you of the days you spent daydreaming about him. It feels almost nostalgic, certainly not the same. If this was a few years ago you might’ve gotten butterflies from just hearing that laugh but now you only feel happy to see him letting his guard down and smiling which is a rare occurrence with him.

“Are you surprised?” you ask.

“Well, yeah,” he says, still with a shyness. “I thought I just went unnoticed in school.”

“Unnoticed? You were without a doubt one of the most popular guys in school.”

He shrugs. “Never felt like it.”

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, because imagine being the one to receive almost 100 cards on Valentine’s Day every year, not to mention the endless notes in your lockers.”

“Ah,” Lawrence laughs softly. “Okay I see your point.” He glances towards you. “Never got one from you though.”

“I was too shy,” you say, trying to hide the truth a little with a tone of sarcasm. 

“Probably would’ve said yes if it was from you,” he says with a playful smirk.

“Thanks for telling me this late,“ you laugh. “But wait…” You look at him in amusement, having just processed some of what he’s said. “So you’re telling me you had no idea that I had a crush on you in school?!”

Confusion is the first and only emotion you manage to catch on Lawrence’s face, the rest passing in a second. “I had no idea!” he says, half laughing while still in what can only be surprise. “You liked me?” He looks at you and you notice a tinge of pink colouring his cheeks.

“For a long time,” you laugh. “Though I don’t know why, you never paid me much attention until college.”

Lawrence doesn’t skip a beat when answering. “I had to! I’m two years older than you, any attention I wanted to give you throughout school might’ve just caused problems and I didn’t want that for you.”

“Well, how thoughtful of you to not want me to be the subject of stupid rumours, meanwhile I was left to pine over you,” you say somewhat sarcastically but still humourful. “If only I knew that you were being so considerate…” only now do you realise exactly what it is that Lawrence has just said… “Hang on.” You pause, brows creasing as you turn to look at him. “You what?”

Lawrence suddenly hesitates, timidly. “I had a thing for you,” he mumbles after a few seconds.

“You did?”

“Mhm, for a while. It’s always been there… still is.”

Your head is reeling… you could’ve had Lawrence. You still could have Lawrence – he’s telling you as much – but…

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask softly, still dumbfounded.

“I wanted to,” he admits with a small smile, just about managing to look at you now. “Your first year of college, but you seemed so carefree and I didn’t wanna be the older guy tying you down. Even though it’s just one year, everyone has fun in first year so I wanted you to have that too.” He purses his lips before releasing a small breath as he looks away. 

“I wouldn’t have cared about that,” you say quietly with a laugh. 

To your relief, Lawrence laughs too, albeit awkwardly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I tried again in my last year, your third.” He glances at you before shrugging. “I don’t think you cared for it though.”

It’s easy to remember what he’s talking about now — there’s no way you wouldn’t remember all the times Lawrence tried to shoot his shot with you, especially because you could never figure out why you denied it to him and yourself.

Lawrence continues in your moment of silence. “I always thought it was because of Jungkook.”

All the thoughts come to a standstill in your mind… 

“Now I know I was right,” Lawrence says with a wistful smile. 

Is this your answer? The reason you never wanted to pursue Lawrence even after having a crush on him for so long — because of Jungkook? 

It’s even crazier to you that right now, it doesn’t seem so bizarre. 

Jungkook has always felt right. Maybe you do care about him in more ways than you realised, maybe everything Lawrence is saying is true, and maybe everything Alex has been saying for months now is true. There’s obviously a reason you’ve started to feel differently around him, not to mention you’re always finding any and every excuse to be with him.

Lawrence continues, unaware of the thoughts unravelling in your head. “I just wish I’d had the courage to say something sooner, but it’s my fault.” He takes a step closer and the feeling of his hand brushing yours draws you back into this moment. 

Looking up, you meet his gaze to see soft eyes and furrowed brows. 

“Now it’s all out there though,” he says in a voice quiet enough to be a whisper, “I have to know…” 

His eyes search yours and he hesitates for a brief moment before you feel his fingers lace between yours. “It is too late, right?”

note. please interact with all parts and share your thoughts with me! <3 part 2 here

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, who delights in being a bit of a dick, and becomes even more mean on bad pain days, and who is constantly insufferably rightfully smug, Smart & competent reader being reduced to a wolf with heart eyes going AWOOOGA when they lay eyes on Viktor.

Word count: 7.8k

Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.

Notes: 1. Shoutout to my beloved buddies for helping me with this fic, AND the banner. You guys know who you are. 2. I hope you enjoy this very self indulgent piece about my take on Viktor as a professor in a modern AU. Keep in mind that this work is entirely spoiler free. Although it will be posted over the upcoming three weeks as arcane season two drops, I had no information about any of the leaks whatsoever as I wrote this, and did my utmost to avoid them. This iteration of Viktor was written with his season one character traits as a base in mind. 3. The science Viktor and reader talk about in depth in this fic is entirely made up and definitely falls apart under scrutiny. Don’t look too hard. Yes, I made up an entire hextech based scientific field specifically so I could carnally have this old man.

You know exactly what to expect from someone like Professor Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda. 

You’ve done your homework on the man: interviewed colleagues who’d taken his lectures as undergrads (scary — but great at his job had been the general consensus), and checked his ratemyprofessor profile. Which, by the way, had been a terrific read. 

Dr Sidorov-Svoboda is a very polarizing man, it seems. Reviews were either raving about his cogency, or saying they’d drive to his lecture without wearing a seatbelt in the hopes that death would take them before Sidorov did. There seemed to be no in-between, other than one review calling him a total DILF and rating him five out of five for that alone.

You digress. All sources had gotten across more than enough for you to understand what you were going to face once you’d step into his office: brilliant, tenured, independent, a no-nonsense attitude, and with a spotless track record of turning down TAs. 

Which you’re here to change — the last part, that is.

It’s not exactly a guilt-free affair. Dr Heimerdinger — the dean himself — had personally reached out to you, and requested you try to convince Sidorov-Svoboda to accept you as his TA. Should you succeed, you would be offered a generous wage.

That, along with the fact that Sidorov’s name is going to pretty up your CV something fierce if you somehow land this job, is reason enough to make you at the very least give it a go.

With a fortifying breath, you rap your knuckles on the oakwood of his office door.

“Yes?” A heavy accent makes itself known on the y.

You wait to see if he’ll open — five seconds pass — he doesn’t. 

Rude.

You take that as your cue to push the door open yourself.

Nothing could have prepared you for the man whose cat-like eyes pierce you from above rectangular silver reading glasses. He hadn’t even bothered lifting his head from what he’d been reading through; and when he finally does grant you the gift of being looked at, wholly, it feels the same way as having a painting stare back at you. In the back of your mind, you swear you can hear the horns of an orchestra blaring into a crescendo.

His gaze pierces you, in a way that borders on literal. It’s undressing — less erotic, and more terrifying, as a consequence of nakedness, of being read. Professor Sidorov-Svoboda looks at you with a kind of disinterest that screams I have you figured out, and it’s punching your heart down into your stomach in a lovely, terrible way.

The lines of his face are lovingly crafted. Dark shadows under hollow cheeks, golden eyes under strong brows, there’s something intrinsically statuesque about his face. You’d expect to look at something akin to Sidorov-Svoboda in a museum, carved in marble, not in one of the dusty offices at your university.

He cocks his head, exposing a long, swan-like neck dotted with beauty marks, as he waits for you to regain your wits. Which you do, before any of this crosses the threshold between awkward and downright embarrassing.

“Hello, doctor,” you finally manage. “My name is (y/n) (l/n), theoretical arcanism department, phD student. I was… hoping we could discuss a position as your TA.”

He cocks a brow, thoroughly unimpressed, before he slides his glasses off his face. He even takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee, deliberately slow in swallowing it, before he finally speaks.

“I believe you should already be familiar with the fact that I do not take assistants.” Sidorov leans forward in his chair a fraction, still poring over his book, and there is a marked pop in one of his joints that sounds nothing short of painful. He seems hardly bothered by it. 

“I am,” you reply. “Which is why I am here in the hopes of changing your mind.”

That finally makes him look at you properly again. It’s a delight. You wish you could savor it, instead of desperately trying to keep your wits about you.

“And why would you want to do that?”

The answer to that question has changed substantially since you’d first stepped foot into his office.

But you’re fortunately not stupid enough to tell him that.

“Your name is worth gold in the community, doctor. I would like it on my resume.”

He picks up his pen, squinting as he scribbles something in his book, before he hums with disinterest.

“Mm. I heard doctor Pididdly takes more kindly to flattery.” He brushes a grey strand of hair from his face, clicking his pen as he simply lets you stew in your own embarrassment and focuses on whatever he’s reading. When he speaks again, he does not award you the honor of feigning the smallest hint of interest. “And you can send doctor Heimerdinger my regards. Let him know I am still not looking for an assistant.”

He has you figured out, and it’s making you feel dumber than any advanced class has ever had the honor of doing.

“The dean? I haven’t spoken to him since—“

“Since last year, when you took his theoretical arcane force fields class? Or was it since he explicitly asked you to come to my office with this proposition?”

You’re not the only one who’s done their research on the other. Though it’s painfully clear that he was much more thorough in his pursuit.

“I’m… sorry.”

“For wasting both our time? You should be.” He does dignify you with one glance, and even sets his pen down, as he bids you goodbye.

—

You’re fortunately not a sore loser. The money and resume addition would have been nice, yes, but you suppose they still would not have made up for working with someone as sharp and cutting as Svoboda.

You’ll gladly take the loss. And you are.

He’s long gone from the front of your mind, though something about him — his gaze, his face, his voice — lingers and shrouds the back of your brain with a tempting distraction from your thesis.

The last thing you expect as you’re burning your retinas staring at the blue light of your laptop screen leafing through the countless open tabs on your laptop is a notification. It startles you out of your skin, the red dot next to the university portal app’s icon. 

Still, more curious than nervous about who could be messaging you at 11pm on a Saturday, you click.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

Good evening. Please come see me in my office on Monday. I would like to discuss the arrangements of your future employment as my assistant. Let me know what time would work best for you, within the limitations of my office hours.

11:32

…What?

You wonder what swayed his mind in your ultimate favor after you’d embarrassed yourself quite so thoroughly this week. But you're not about to complain — you more than certainly need the money, and his name on your resume.

Whatever turned the odds in your favor, you’re ever-grateful. And as much as you hate to admit it, you do double-check the message to make sure it’s actually real.

Me

Thank you for this opportunity, professor. I’m looking forward to working as your assistant, as well as broadening my knowledge and skills. Would 1 PM work for you?

11:34

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

Yes. That should be fine.

11:34

You think you should leave it at that. You know you should. But… you’re curious. You really hope this doesn’t cost you the job offer you’ve just received.

Me

May I ask what swayed your decision?

11:37

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

You may not. Good night.

11:37

So much for that.

—

You knock, but this time you don’t wait after being greeted with a yes? from behind his imposing office door.

“Hello, Professor Sidorov-Svoboda.”

You’re greeted with the distinctive smell of chicken stock and vegetables wafting from his office as you step in — a sore reminder of the fact that you’ve yet to procure lunch. Whatever he’s been eating, it smells tremendous.

His thermos squeaks as he screws it shut and sets it on the corner of his desk, gesturing for you to have a seat.

“Hello.” The faux velvet seat creaks awkwardly below you. “Thank you for your punctuality. I won’t take up too much of your time — we’ll discuss any questions you might have in further detail, but, to, eh… save us time, I’ve compiled a list of your responsibilities, and some personal preferences regarding grading papers I expect you to take into consideration when you do so.”

As he explains, you take a moment to take in his office. You certainly hadn’t gotten to it last time.

It’s mainly tidy, save for his large desk, which is littered with papers, a sudoku magazine, a disposable coffee cup from the campus cafe (though the cup is tall, roughly fit for a latte, if you had to guess… hm) and his dark blue, slightly beat-up thermos. Upon closer inspection, there’s a sticker on the cap.

It’s a small thing, worn like the rest of it, but the colours are unmistakable. Baby blue, pink, white — five stripes. 

As a million questions and half a million answers start flashing through your head, the rustle of paper snaps you out of your thoughts. 

There’s something analytical and vaguely, barely amused about how he looks at you when he slides the list across the table to you.

Contrary to what you expect, it’s not long. His main demand is grading papers, which isn’t your preferred kind of labor, but labor you will chew through, no less. 

“I expect fairness when you grade,” he clarifies. “Contrary to what some students like to say, I grade papers with utmost integrity. I am not lenient, yes, but I am not absurd, either. You will find further guidelines on how to strike that, eh… balance yourself on the list I’ve made. And don’t hesitate to ask, should any uncertainties arise when you grade.”

“Fortunately, it’s applied arcanism,” you reply. “Not much room for… uncertainties, I’d expect.”

“You would be surprised.”

Viktor gives a knowing smile. Something about the placement of his mole right above the corner of his mouth, where his chapped, pale lips thin out, has your vision tunneling. You damn near startle when he starts talking again — good god, you need to get your act together.

“I will direct students’ questions to you, from now on. Should you not have an answer, you are welcome to contact me — but keep it to a minimum. Especially since applied arcanism is, as you seem to think, such an easy topic. As for lectures, you may attend, but it isn’t something I’ll be expecting from you. You teaching said lectures does not come into question. I have standards — high ones. If anyone is to take over, it will be someone whom I am certain is qualified for the job, not a phD student.”

“I am still prepared to,” you say. “Should the opportunity… present itself.”

“It most likely won’t.” With that, he straightens his back out in his seat, cracking the knuckle of his right thumb as he leans back in thought, going over his mental list. “Do you have any questions for me?” 

His little smirk is magnetic, crows feet near his eyes creasing ever so slightly deeper as the corners of his lips rise. One of his dark brows lifts gently in a display of smugness that leaves you braindead enough to nearly miss the entirety of his next sentence. “Other than the one from Saturday night?”

Oh, damn him. Damn him.

And, as a matter of fact, you have about ten more. But none of them are even close to appropriate to ask — not now, or ever.

“No,” you lie. It somehow feels like he can see right through it.

“Very well. Thank you for your time.”

You thank him too. You’re not sure what for — his sudden generosity to offer you this position, or simply for the fact that he looked so pretty while he talked.

—

You, by now, know what optional really means in academia. Above all else, it’s meant to be an abstract line that separates two distinct groups: those who put in the extra effort, and slackers.

You don’t want Sidorov-Svoboda to know you as the latter.

Which is why you get a hold of his lecture schedule from Heimerdinger on the very same Monday afternoon, and plan on attending every single one of them that doesn’t overlap with something else in your schedule. Until he either outright tells you to stop, or until your contract as his assistant ends.

Much to your surprise, most of his lectures, save for Wednesdays and one on Fridays, do fit into your schedule as well.

On Tuesday, you are thirty minutes early waiting outside his office door.

And, as much as it shouldn’t be, it is a little funny how he startles when he groggily wobbles out of his office, keys in hand, and a cane in the other.

It’s a gorgeously designed thing; so much so it has you (stupidly) guessing it’s strictly in use for aesthetics the moment you first see it. It’s made of sturdy wood, with a dark finish and golden details down the length of it. The wood on the handle has gone light and matte with use.

But judging by how he leans on it as he numbly turns to lock the door of his office behind himself while he greets you leads to a different conclusion. And the stagger in his stride as he approaches you only confirms that he does, in fact, need it.

“Good morning, doctor Si—“

He raises his free hand slowly, like it’s heavy with fatigue. It’s enough to shut you up.

“Viktor,” he says. “Please. Just call me Viktor, from now on.” He pauses, looking you up and down with a fatigued sort of near-jealousy, before he shakes his head. “Why… are you here at seven thirty in the morning?”

“I want to attend your lectures.”

He sighs.

“And you picked the one at this hour?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” You can’t quite tell if he’s displeased or if he’s just really tired.

“Rough morning?” You ask.

“Aren’t they all…” 

It certainly isn’t your intention to let it become a habit — you’re his assistant, not his secretary, but you’ve learned that sucking up does get you forward in academia more often than not, so you offer: “Would you like me to get you some coffee?”

“I am getting myself coffee.” He attempts to stifle a yawn, but does not succeed. “But I would like you to accompany me.”

Your heart flutters. You tell yourself it’s because you’re getting coffee with one of the fathers of applied arcanism.

—

“A french vanilla latte, please. Under the name “A french vanilla latte, please. Under the name Viktor.”

Before you get to mentally clap yourself on the back and imagine a round of applause for your keen eye, you have to focus on not making a fool of yourself when you say your own order. The professor thankfully takes mercy on you, and leaves to take a seat at one of the tables — though probably for his own sake, rather than to spare you any embarrassment.

You decide the polite thing would be to keep him company as you wait for your orders. Reluctantly, you approach the table he’s picked, and, after a moment’s hesitation, pull out a chair for yourself.

“Professor Heimerdinger spoke quite highly of you.” 

It startles you, the sound of his voice interrupting the lull of the clanking of dishes and hissing of steam and hum of the espresso machines.

“Oh. I appreciate that he did.” 

“Hm.” For how blasé he’d acted until this very moment, it seems like you’ve said something that’s piqued his interest utterly. He hunches forward a hint, entwining his long, bony fingers over the top of the cane between his thin thighs. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

Uh oh.

“I’m sorry if it seemed that way, really, it’s not that I’m not flattered, professor—“

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “And you needn’t be. I do not care for, ah… false humility.”

Oh?

“False humility?” You question. 

“A mark of someone either too self-conscious to accept a well deserved compliment, or desperate for one.” He pauses, looking for… something in your expression. You can’t tell if he finds it, but you know his gaze feels cold, like being prodded at with a nitrile glove. “I prefer working with people who are capable of appreciating their own effort. It’s good to know you are one of them.”

There’s warmth that seeps through the metaphorical glove, sterile as it is. It feels good to be acknowledged by the likes of him, who’d been so ruthless to figuratively knock your feet out from below you just days ago. He must have done his research on you, must have asked around, read around, figured out — just like you had done to him.

Curiosity eats at you.

“Well… what else do you know, pr— Viktor?”

His eyes rest on you like you’re a particularly tricky equation. One he knows will yield a pretty result. Being looked at by him is electric, like squeezing an unstabilized hexgem in your fist so the current courses through you, tingling. 

“Don’t get cocky.” He smiles, he actually smiles, and it frays the space-time continuum just how much it youthens him. Salt and pepper hair and crow’s feet and frown lines be damned; as you watch the tip of his snaggle canine poke out from beneath his top lip, it becomes evidently clear that you are standing face to face with the man who stole illegal equipment to prove a point, the man who worked with highly explosive material for years to birth the very foundation of his scientific domain. “It is most certainly a good look on you, but it won’t bring you too far. You can ask Doctor Talis, I believe he should have a doctorate in arrogance by now.”

Is he…?

“French vanilla latte for Viktor!”

—

Listening to him teach might as well count as hypnosis. 

When Viktor steps into the room, silence ensues gently, gradually. He’s not feared by any means, but he is respected. By the time he reaches the teacher’s desk and pulls out the chair from under it, the class has gone fully silent.

He sets it by the blackboard, then, slowly, bracing himself on both his cane and the backrest of it, takes a seat.

“Good morning.” He positions his cane between his thighs, clearing his throat with… perhaps almost a hint of awkwardness. “Alright. Before we begin today’s lecture, there has been a small change that everyone should be made aware of. This is my new assistant, (y/n) (l/n), and they will be joining us today. You will be addressing all questions you encounter outside of my lectures to them, from now on.”

Whispers spread across the amphitheater like wildfire.

“Now,” just like that, when his voice sounds out again, most of the chatter dies out, “today we’ll be discussing Holloran’s equation, and its applications in arcanistic techmaturgy.”

It’s magical, the command he has over the room. Viktor is a meager man, especially with the backdrop of such an imposing room. The high ceiling dwarfs him, and yet, there doesn’t seem to be a single atom in the room that doesn’t move the way he wants it to.

You’d known Viktor to be an eloquent man — you’d experienced it at your own detriment — but this beats your expectations. His explanations are enticing, he uses his words like breadcrumbs, leaves them tactfully, just enough to guide you to the conclusions he wants you to draw.

You’d never found so much satisfaction in simply listening. In spite of knowing full well the intricacies of what he is discussing, you let his voice envelop you, you follow him where he takes you.

“Now that we’ve established how Holloran’s equation exponentially heightens the energy output of Hexcrystals without disrupting the LHC — the laminal hexeon cascade — as I’m sure some of you may be wondering, how do the basic principles play into it? Any guesses?”

The class falls silent. You would give anything to be among the students right now, raising your hand to enounce the right answer. To have him looking at you like you’re bright.

You await with bated breath to see who in the crowd of focused frowns and scribbling pencils will dare speak first.

“Wouldn’t the caveat be that Talis’ fourth principle states that 30% of the energy output is converted into heat?” A young woman in the audience attempts. “Holloran’s equation operates based on the notion that the crystal is at a constant temperature.”

“Precisely. Very good,” Viktor praises. Excited, he turns to the blackboard. “Right here…” he underlines the equation, “is where Morichi’s constant comes into play…”

But you’ve long lost him.

The words twist in your head, turning into something sultry and intimate.

Precisely.

Very good.

Right here.

You find yourself staring at the groove of his pale neck, where it swoops into the line of his shoulder, hidden beneath the collar of a dress shirt and a brown wool vest.

You wonder what it’d smell like, to tuck your face in there. To have the pulse of his neck thrumming on your lips, to mouth at the mole on his jaw when he tilts his head for you, willing. 

You wonder how many more are below the collar of his shirt. Dotted line on a treasure map, to guide your touch, your kiss, your tongue. Use them where he needs them, use them where his skin begs you to. Use them until his tired spine bows, use them until tattered joins are oiled with pleasure—

What is wrong with you? 

—

Viktor disappears after his lecture. You hope he’d grace you with another conversation, another smile, something, but he is gone surprisingly fast. He bids you goodbye once his lecture is over, telling you he has matters to attend to, and that is that.

Overall, it’s an uneventful day otherwise. A few students end up messaging you, most with questions on what Viktor had taught that day. Others nitpicking what would and would not be a part of the upcoming midterm (whom you simply dryly referred to the syllabus). Two people, however, did message you to ask you how you’d landed the job.

You’d ignored them.

On Wednesday, you see none of him. You drop by his office after class, but there is no response to your knock, and the door is locked. He must have gone home.

On Thursday, you wait for him outside his office thirty minutes early for his 3PM lecture, but he doesn’t show. So you decide to go straight to the amphitheater, and do find him there.

He looks worn. No less graceful than the last time you’d seen him, but his cane has been ditched in the favor of a crutch that’s tucked under his arm. The creases in his checkered dress shirt and face seem deeper now, the pale indigo under his eyes is richer, darker.

He gives you nothing more than a curt greeting before class commences.

And yet, he never blunders. Never loses himself, his diction is as concise as the day you’d first met him, carrying himself with the grace of a swan as he talks and his chalk glides over the board. But his numbers slant, the loops on his letters are looser, the rows on the blackboard curve downwards to the right; just barely at first, but as the lecture advances, it becomes more obvious.

He cuts the class shorter by fifteen minutes. 

The students know better than to linger. Nobody comes to address any questions, and they leave the room surprisingly quick.

Once the amphitheater is empty enough that even the thump of his crutch reverberates on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the desk, you finally dare speak.

“Is… everything alright?” 

“Don’t start,” he cuts back, resting his crutch against the desk before bracing himself with both hands on the flat surface. He sighs, and does a futile attempt of relieving some of the tension in his spine by rolling his shoulders.

His joints crack, and you can see his sharp shoulder blades moving under his shirt, wings on a flightless bird.

And you’re not sure what to say.

“Sorry,” he finally adds, the harshness of his reply catching up to him. “Not… a good day.”

“Got off on the wrong side of the bed?” You attempt weakly, and, much to your utter surprise, he does actually smile.

“Mm. That might explain the past two decades or so.” He does finally look at you from below droopy eyelids, and though there’s not a doubt about him being tired still, there is more gentleness to it. As though woken out of a dream. He takes pity on the confused look on your face, and adds: “My bed is in a corner.”

Ah. 

“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get you?”

“A new spine,” he jokes, hunching forward to crack his back, before he does his best to stand up straight once more. When he speaks again, his playful lilt is sorely missing. “Why are you here?”

“I want to attend your lectures — as many of them as I can, at least.”

Viktor shakes his head, mutters something both a little desperate and a little bitter in a foreign tongue. 

“You don’t need to do that. From now on, you can simply tell Cecil you were here. And I will confirm it, should he ask. But I do not need… a babysitter. I’m sure you have better things to do as well.”

What? Why would he think that?

“I…” you falter, “Heimerdinger didn’t put me up to this.”

He scoffs, not particularly at you, but it’s surprisingly hurtful nonetheless.

“I thought we had moved past the stage where you felt the need to lie.” He sighs. “I know he worries. There is nothing to worry about. In the unlikely event he does find out you haven’t been following me around as he asked, I will take full responsibility.”

That alone makes you worry. Had Heimerdinger neglected to tell you the full picture? What was there that warranted the dean himself worrying?

”I came to your lectures because I wanted to see you teach.” The last word is more of a lie than anything you’ve said thus far. “I admire your cogency. I want to absorb as much of it as I can.”

Viktor looks thoroughly unimpressed. “We also discussed how I feel about flattery, did we not?”

“It’s not flattery,” you argue. “I came here of my own volition because I think that there’s a lot I can learn from you, professor. Now, if you don’t want me here, you can simply give me the word, and I will act accordingly.”

He mulls it over for a long second while he shuts his leather briefcase. 

“Perhaps that would be best,” he finally decides. “For now, continue with your assigned duties. I will let you know if there is anything else I need from you.”

He practically scans you for a reaction, lays you out paper-thin on a glass slide, and slides you under his most potent microscope lens.

You don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for, because he doesn’t look long. He slings the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder, and turns toward the exit with renewed, but undoubtedly spiteful vigor.

“Have a good day.”

“You too, professor.”

—

“Oh, if it isn’t one of my favorite phD students!” 

The dean’s mustache curls almost comically with the over-the-top, but somehow still sincere smile he gives you.

“Hello, doctor Heimerdinger,” you greet, letting the smell of laquered wood and floors wash over you as you step into the pristine, impressive office. As opposed to Viktor's, the ceiling is higher, the windows bigger, and there are only sterile messes to be found in the room. A stack of books that is not as neat as the rest, a cactus that doesn’t look all too swell on the windowsill, and documents that are scattered over his workspace in a way that’s still neat.

“What can I do for you? I hope the first week of your collaboration with doctor Sidorov-Svoboda has gone smoothly.”

“That… is actually why I’m here.” You clear your throat awkwardly, and take a seat on the plush chair that faces his desk. Whatever it’s stuffed with, it’s comfortable, it has you sinking.

“I see. I know he can be… a tad, well, peppery at times,” Heimerdinger giggles at his own choice of words. “Give him some time. Once the two of you manage to find some common ground, I can assure you he is wonderful company, and an incredibly bright mind.”

“I don’t doubt any of those things.” You start kneading your hands in your lap, digging for the right words. God, social chess was never your forte. “I’m actually here because there has been a bit of a misunderstanding between the two of us that I was hoping you could clear up.”

“Oh.” His smile drops. “I’m listening.”

“You see, when… well, when I attended his lecture today — the second one I’ve attended — he seemed… very displeased with my presence.”

“Ah…” Heimerdinger falls silent for a long moment, gears turning in his bald head. “That… well,” he laughs awkwardly, “I’m afraid that might have been because he might wrongly assume I told you to do so.”

You nod curtly. “I know. He told me as much.”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding. I will try speaking to him, but—“

“Actually, doctor, that isn’t why I came to you,” you cut in, “he told me more than just that. He said you’d put me up to this because you were… worried about him.”

At that, the smile on Heimerdinger’s face is entirely gone.

“Naturally, that also got me… quite worried. I came to you because I wanted to know the full picture of this… arrangement I’ve gotten into.”

“I see,” Heimerdinger sinks in his seat, folding his hands in front of his blond mustache as he picks his words carefully. “Well, since you have been made aware of this fact, I suppose there is no harm in admitting that I do, in fact, worry about Viktor. Him and I have history, so to speak. I’ve known him for many years, and, though he has remained the same bold, ambitious young man within, I sometimes fear old age may be catching up to him. But! That is not something you need to concern yourself with. The sole purpose of hiring you was to create a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your resume will certainly benefit from his name, and as for him, I wanted to simply… lighten his workload. But that is all I expect of you.”

“I understand.” And you do, to some degree — but Heimerdinger’s whole speech has done nothing but raise more questions than provide any real answers.

“Would you still like me to speak to him on this matter?” He asks.

“No.” With renewed courage and curiosity, you rise from the comfortable chair. “Thank you, professor. For this, and for putting in a good word for me with professor Sidorov-Svoboda.”

“Of course,” he smiles — genuinely, this time. “Though it might sound quite absurd to you now, considering the current circumstances… the two of you are more alike than you may believe.”

You’re not sure what to make of that, either. So you just smile back.

—

On Friday night, as you’re poring over your thesis with a warm mug of tea as a panacea for your racing thoughts and lack of inspiration, you receive an email.

Apologies

From: v.sidorovsvoboda@uofp.edu

To: me

Good evening.

I wanted to formally apologize for what happened on Wednesday. Accusing you of something you hadn’t done was unjustified and unprofessional of me. You are always welcome to my lectures, should you still wish to attend. 

I was also hoping to speak to you in person on Monday. Would 1 PM still work for you? Let me know.

Thank you.

VSS

It comes as a surprise, to have someone in his position apologize so… willingly. You wonder if Heimerdinger had talked to him after all, and if so, what he might have said to turn the odds so terribly in your favor. Again.

You write a fast reply: you thank him too, above all else. You consider saying you hadn’t expected and apology, but you fear that might come off wrong, so you ultimately ditch that part.

And you tell him yes. 1 PM would work for you.

—

You attend his 10AM lecture on Monday, but this time, you don’t wait for him at his office. Though eager and enthusiastic, you fear your initial approach of waiting for him thirty minutes early might have been too stifling.

So you wait outside the lecture hall. He shows up ten minutes early, crutch under one arm, coffee in his other.

There is just a hint of foam on his upper lip, where grey-brown stubble shows. He licks the milk away before he even sees you, and you’re thankful for it — being caught staring at the pink of his smart tongue darting over the curve of his top lip considering the current circumstances would not have been a good look.

“Good morning,” he greets. Though he’s still using the crutch, he seems to be in an improved mood as opposed to the last time you saw him. “I must admit… I did not expect you here already.”

“If you’ll have me, I want to come,” you say. 

Something about that catches him off-guard, the swell of his Adam's apple bobs and his eyes widen just a hint. But he’s fast, always is, and he straightens up and clears his throat before you get to analyze him the way you wish you could.

“Ahem. Well. I’m happy to hear that.” He gestures to the door as if he’d almost forgotten he was holding a coffee, because it sloshes just a hint too loud. Fortunately, there are no victims to the small droplet that spills from the plastic cover. Viktor frowns, most likely with frustration at himself, before he turns to you. “Alright. After you.”

You step into the lecture hall first, per his request. The room begins to quiet when the students see you, but as you turn around to hold the door open to him, it gets worse.

You do not care for the curious, gossip-hungry glances that rest on you.

—

“I appreciate your openness regarding the discussion of this matter,” Viktor begins, shutting his office door behind himself. “Coffee?”

He dips his hand behind an old but trusty looking coffee machine that sits on the table next to the door. You hadn’t noticed it the first time you were here.

The hint of a frown as his fingers roam the space between the back of the machine and the wall is doing… something to you.

“Yes, please.”

“I must warn you,” his voice lilts again in that pleasant, playful way, like a cat twirling figure eights between one’s legs, “it is significantly less… fun than the ones at the cafe. I only have sugar.”

He finds the switch on its back, finally, and there’s a little pop as he flips it, before he retreats his hand.

“Works for me,” you assure. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Mainly, I wanted to eh… extend my apologies to you in person.” His glasses ride further up his nose as he pinches the bridge of it, rolling his shoulders, as if to draw courage. “And to put my… reaction into some context, should you be willing to hear it.”

You hope it’s not outwardly visible that your heart starts vibrating. 

He has been on your mind much more than you would like to admit, tangled in questions, in guesses. You unfortunately have the mark of a true scientist — nothing scratches an itch in your soul quite like having your questions answered.

“I would.”

Viktor retrieves a stack of single-use cardboard cups from one of his drawers, sliding out two, which he positions under the coffee machine. He presses the same button twice, then gestures to the chair that faces his desk.

“Have a seat.”

You do.

He lingers beside the coffee machine, resting the backs of his thighs against the edge of the table it’s on as he starts to think.

Just now, it strikes you that maybe social chess isn’t always his forte, either.

“People tend to… underestimate me,” he begins. The coffee machine whirrs, clicks, whirrs again — and then coffee starts to trickle. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his slacks in what attempts to be dejection, but clearly isn’t. “And while that is an advantage in a competitive environment, it’s not something I appreciate coming from my colleagues.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I know that. Now.” He clears his throat, then, with a show of surprising dexterity, slides his hand from his pocket and grabs both cups with one hand — one tucked between his index and middle finger, the other tucked between his middle and ring finger. You reach out to offer your help, but he sets down both cups on his desk, then hobbles around it, and finally takes his rightful seat on the opposing side. “I unfortunately can’t say the same for Cecil. He does try, and more often than not, he is tactful about these matters, but there is the occasional… slip-up. I try to understand; him and I… have history, as he likes to say.”

You would love to know the exact implications of said history. From what you’d heard, there was the consensus that Viktor had been something of a protege to Heimerdinger, twenty or so years ago, before he’d made it big and co-created the field of applied arcanism. 

“I’ve taken up some new responsibilities lately,” Viktor adds, “and Cecil, though worried as ever, has… overstepped some boundaries of mine. You were caught in the crossfire of that, which is hardly fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“Was he the one who convinced you to hire me?”

Viktor shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Eeeh… partially.” 

“I think I understand your issue with his… overstepping. To some degree.” You take the cardboard cup, blowing the steam away, before you take a sip. “I would also have preferred to be hired by you because you wanted it, not because you'd been talked into it, but… well, I’m glad it ultimately still happened, I suppose.”

“Rest assured that the decision was still mine alone,” Viktor replies. Smart eyes watch you over the rim of the cup as he takes a sip himself.

Silence settles. A telltale sign you should get going — but you don’t want to.

“You mentioned some extra responsibilities,” you attempt. He’d shut down your curiosity before, but you’ll be damned if that’s going to deter you from trying again. “Within the university, or… personal?”

“Within the university.” Viktor sets the cup down, sharp joints jutting out as he intertwines his fingers around the circumference of it, hands resting on the table. There is a mole on his left ring finger, right under the knucklebone. “I have been trying my hand at independent research.”

You only notice the fact that you’d leaned in closer with interest when a tiny smug smile ghosts over his face. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is just about all I should be telling you.”

Oh, come on.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

His brows raise with surprise, and for the very first time since you’d known him, Viktor seems genuinely stumped.

“Your… research,” you clarify. “And I could show you what I have for my thesis so far.”

“Oh. Alright, I will, eh… bite.” Taking his paper cup with him, Viktor leans back in his seat, and watches you like a cat watches birds. Not necessarily on the prowl — but with great interest. “Tell me.”

“Me first?”

“You suggested it,” he smirks. “It seems only fair, does it not?”

Uncertainty halts you. You have to wonder if Viktor Sidorov-Sviboda is the kind of man that would steal an idea.

You’ve heard he’d gotten the short end of the stick in his partnership with Jayce Talis — though he’d contributed greatly, his name was sorely amiss from all the terms, laws, anything Talis had coined in their domain.

He must know what it’s like to be cheated out of well-deserved credit.

You suppose he wouldn’t propagate the cycle — but in the off case he does, you have a handful of professors who could vouch for your idea being yours, on account of having vaguely, barely, helped with your thesis. None had been too keen on such a touchy subject as the one you were breaching, and were resistant to offering their opinion.

You hope Viktor won’t fall into that same category.

Part of you already knows he doesn’t.

“Alright.” Though you’re not exactly excited to have your own strategy used against you, you can only hope he’ll hold up his end of the bargain. “My thesis is on the hexionic model. Within and outside the context of a matrix.”

Viktor scoffs with amusement, rather than plain mockery. But there is a taste of it in there, somewhere, in the curve of his lip. “You theorists and your hexionic models. Any attempt at a new hypothesis is no less flawed than the last.”

And it’s thrilling. To be challenged, instead of praised, or dismissed. It makes something in you catch fire, every word itches behind your teeth, like you need to tell him.

“That’s exactly why I’m proposing an entirely different hexion model in my paper.“

His pupils widen so much his eyes go dark. Like a cat about to pounce. 

“Oh? Tell me.”

“If we accept that the very core of a hexion’s energy release is based on entropy, on the desire for disarray, and we apply that to a hexion’s very structure… I believe there’s something to be made of the whole mess we are currently facing.”

Viktor had been holding his breath. You notice, because it sounds just a tad sharper when he finally draws a reluctant inhale, and, gears in that mind of his turning fast, sharp, steady, he finds another way to refute your point. 

“Like Pididdly’s hexion model?”

“No,” you say. “Though I bet Pididdly will wish he could come up with what I have. Can I have a pen and some paper?”

You have him now. 

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Viktor tugs the drawer of his desk open so hard it thunks, digging for a scrap of paper and a pen. When you take it, holding the paper between the two of you, he leans in, too, enough for you to be able to smell his aftershave — the aquatic spice softened by flowery vanilla.

It’s intoxicating enough to have the storm of ideas in your mind going quiet, buzzing. You manage to untangle them before you make a fool of yourself.

“My model is proposing disordered order, so to speak. The hexion is split up into different parts as Torek suggested in his hypothesis. But I think she was too small minded in her approach. For my model, I use the concept of something I’m calling areals. Different areals for different component particles. I believe particles will never be in a fixed, certain place.” You draw the centrion — though hypothetically an ochtahemiocyahedron — as a sphere for simplicity’s sake, surrounded by three vaguely defined layers. Viktor rests both elbows on his desk, sharp chin on intertwined fingers, watching with a tilt of his head. Your mouth’s gone dry. “These areals are… spaces where, if you were to look, at any given moment, the likelihood of you finding a specific hexion particle in its assigned areal is high — but never 100%. They are constantly moving, oscillating, vibrating —  within their areal. Like I said: disordered order. And this theory also holds up in the context of matrices — for the most part. There are some kinks I need to iron out, but… this is the gist of it.”

At that, he lights up. 

“Extraordinary,” Viktor mutters. It’s music to your ears, rolls down your spine in a wave of dopamine, tingles all over. He taps his finger to the schematic  diagram, then stares into your eyes so thoroughly you wonder if he can see into the depths of your amygdala. There is maybe a palm’s length between your faces, a gap you itch to breach. He says the next thing like a solemn secret. “This could be beyond revolutionary.”

“Thank you.”

Viktor doesn’t miss a beat when he says: “I would like to help you with your thesis. Should you require it.” 

Now that knocks your knees out from under you. You’re lucky you’re sitting.

One of the founding fathers of applied arcanism wants to read your thesis? Wants to help you?

“I…” You can’t remember to breathe, your mouth’s gone thick and cottony and swallowing is a distant dream and he is looking right at you, young and hungry and alive underneath the barely composed shell of himself. “I’d be thrilled.”

He grins, the top of his lip a mere thin line over his teeth. 

“I already am,” he lilts. You watch the way his mouth moves — the curl of his tongue against the back of his teeth as he rolls his heavy, thick r, the plush purse of them on the m.

And when you remember to look into his eyes again, you catch him red handed.

He’d been staring at your lips, too.

Startled with the reality, the puzzle-piece-click of knowing, the both of you retreat into your seats. With a shaky hand, you pick your cup back up, and take a sip from your coffee. It’s gone lukewarm.

“I’d like to ask you to print it, if possible.” His voice is bridled again, steady, certain. Normal. He tugs on another drawer, and retrieves something shiny, metallic. A key. He lays it on the table, sliding it towards you. “You can use the printer in my office, if need be.”

“I can print what I have so far this evening, and leave it for you here. Would that work for you?”

”Yes.” 

You look at the clock on his wall — it’s entirely later than it should be. You have a lab you should be getting to. 

“Could you spare some time on your lunch break tomorrow?” Viktor asks, clearly having read your mind again, somehow. “I think I should have it read through by then.”

“Absolutely, but… you don’t even know how much there is to read through.”

He smiles. “If you write with the same enthusiasm you talk, rest assured I will tear through it.”

[thenameswinterfics]

THE BLUE BUTTERFLY

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 5 Summary: The summary sucks, but I'll try. After returning from Datchet, Sihtric spends some free time with you, and a group of blue butterflies catch your attention. Word Count: 4K (sorry-) Warnings: Fluff, missing moments, mention of word "whore". There are some minor spoilers from "The Lords of the North" book, so if you're planning on reading them I would advise against reading certain parts. A/N: After being a silent reader for a while and enjoying every exhistent fics on this character, I've decided to write one of my own. The inspiration comes from this post, and after weeks of venting on my terrible writing and fighting the urge of deleting everything, I wrote this! It came out different from what I had imagined, but I'm slightly satisfied. A special thanks to @sihtricfedaraaahvicius, the owner of the linked post, who gently passes me the whole passage from the book, and to @whitedarkmoonflower , @lord-aldhelm and @sylasthegrim for being my amazing beta readers and cheerleaders. I love you, really.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header by @whitedarkmoonflower Dividers by @saradika-graphics

READ IT ON AO3

“She says she loves me, lord,” Sihtric told Uhtred in a quiet voice, careful not to raise it too much as they slipped into the forest in the middle of the night. 

The air grew cold and thick, the full moon rising brightly into the sky, its pale rays faintly illuminating the surroundings as they filtered through the thick bank of fog that enveloped the area like a heavy blanket. The silence of the night was occasionally broken by the chirping of crickets, the hooting of an owl and the sound of leaves and trampled wood. Felted footsteps crossed the woods, a sign that Uhtred and his men were quietly approaching the village of Datchet.

Everyone was silent and cautious, except Sihtric, who was strangely absent-minded and rather distracted, the thought of your gentle smile and soft touch staining his mind like a woodworm eating the pulp of wood.

"Of course she says that," Uhtred replied quickly, hoping that his disinterested answer would quell Sihtric's desire and return his focus to the mission. But it didn’t have the desired effect; on the contrary, it encouraged Sihtric to speak again.

“I swear. She says she loves me!” the Dane retorted, his voice slightly raised as if he had found the courage to defend his feelings against his Lord, to whom he had sworn his life and his sword, for the very first time.

“Sihtric, she’s a whore,” Uhtred said, a hint of irritation could be heard in his voice.

“No,” again, Sihtric raised his voice, which grew brighter as he continued. “She’s past that,” he added with a newfound confidence, words that were far from a lie.

Sihtric had never been loved, nor had he ever felt it, an emotion of which he knew only the name and little of the meaning. How could he ever have understood such a noble thing when he was born and raised in an environment where there was no love? When the only person willing to give him love had been taken from him by a father who wanted nothing to do with him?

He lived in Dunholm, a fortress that was more of a prison than a real home. Kjartan had never felt a shred of compassion for his bastard son: to him, Sihtric was nothing more than an expendable life, a useless existence to be thrown to the dogs, as he had done to his mother, had Tekil not pleaded for his life and taken him into his servitude.

Sihtric had felt his mental chains crumble on the day he offered his life and sword to Uhtred, and vanish on the day Kjartan died, shattered by the endless blows Ragnar had dealt him while taking Dunholm. But of all the emotions that overwhelmed him that day, the void, the emptiness that the absence of love had brought him was hard to assuage. A void that he tried to fill by paying women for pleasure, hoping that one of them would step forward and mend his wounded heart, feeling that love he was craving for almost all his life. And it was in one of his nights of seeking affection from women that he found you.

When you first approached him, he was completely overwhelmed by the way you carried yourself: your ethereal beauty, your soft voice, your long curls and your big, shining eyes, which drew him to you like a moth to a flame, made him wonder why a woman as beautiful as you had chosen this kind of work. The aura that surrounded you both attracted and intimidated him, and Sihtric thought he was looking at Freya herself instead of a mortal woman. 

You took him in your room and both made love that night, soon to be followed by many others, and each time it was the purest of experiences. His rough and trembling hands were soothing against your body while his lips explored every inch of it, savouring you with the utmost respect and devotion as he saw how surprisingly responsive your body was to his touch. Soft kisses and whispers of love parted as your naked forms joined as one, two seemingly different souls in a desperate search for each other, feeding on a love you both sought by others. You desperately clasped at each other when you both reached your high, the bliss of the act made you both dizzy and satisfied. 

Sihtric fell in love with you that night and already thought of you as his wife, and when on a cold winter's day a soft "I love you" escaped your lips while reaching your peak, the Dane warrior asked for your hand, tearing you away from the job that robbed you of the dignity you deserved.

“What she loves is your silver,” another voice, Finan, joined the conversation, and soon a chorus of jokes and laughter from the other warriors followed, mocking the naivety of the young Dane. But Sihtric was not to be deterred, and with the most serious expression his face could show, he looked at Uhtred and spoke again, his words echoing in the silence of the forest.

“I wish to marry her.” 

Again, Uhtred chose to ignore his words, making Sihtric’s impatience growing inside him. 

“Lord, the lady said…” 

"The lady said she loves you, but she seems to be making good use of all the silver I gave you." Uhtred blurted out, not raising his voice too much. He could not see him, but could feel Sihtric's jaw clenching and his eyes almost looking down at his feet, as if he had been caught in the act and was awaiting punishment. 

“I will help you find a wife,” he told the Dane in a lower voice, never looking over his shoulders, “For now, I wish you to kill Danes and survive the night.”

Then a piercing scream from some of the villagers broke the silence of the night. Finan, the first in line, raised his hand to signal a halt, and Uhtred, Sihtric and the other warriors followed. They spotted two Danes resting by a makeshift campfire behind them, and having successfully neutralised them, Uhtred ordered them to hide and wait, not to attack until they were given the order. Sihtric stood near a huge tree, his back pressed against the rough wood, clutching his weapons and fidgeting with the hilt of his sword as he felt the adrenaline of battle coursing through his veins. 

The night was long, and the threat was far from over, but he was indeed following his lord’s advice to survive the night.

Because he knew that after this battle, he would return home, and would find a safe place in your arms.

A new day dawned and winter quietly took its leave of the Saxon lands. The pale rays of the morning sun warmed the earth like an embrace, peeling away the layers of snow and allowing nature to be reborn, blooming with all its colourful vegetation and the intoxicating scent of plants and flowers. Even the animals awoke from hibernation and the warmth of the spring sun allowed them to roam freely in the wild, hunting to feed their young, exploring new places to settle or simply returning like the flock of birds in the sky. 

Spring came to Coccham too, and soon the village enthusiastically welcomed the arrival of the new cycle of life. And you celebrated it by sitting by the river, enjoying the warmth of spring, closing their eyes and feeling the wind dance around them, gently ruffling their long curls. The scent of the lake, a mixture of musk, wet wood and grass, filled your nostrils and you let out a long sigh as the bare skin of your feet dipped into the water. This was the time of day you free yourself from your chores and spend some time with your thoughts. 

When you first set foot in Coccham, you never felt the struggle to find a home of your own, as Sihtric insisted on welcoming you into his own house, which soon became your little love nest. Uhtred had not yet given you his blessing to marry, but in Sihtric's eyes you were already his lovely wife. He used to spend his silver at the village market, buying you all sorts of jewellery to adorn your pale skin and enhance your beauty. And when his silver ran out, he gave you his arm rings and spoils of war, a reward Uhtred gave him when he thought his services worthy. 

The time you spent together was sadly short, as his lord always managed to fill his days with arduous tasks or sending him out on patrol, but as evening fell and you waited for him to come home, he never failed to show you how empty his day was without you. You could read all the love and devotion he felt for you in his timid, mismatched eyes, looking at you like a goddess descended among mere mortals. His calloused hands would always find your soft cheeks, brushing your flesh and lower lips with his thumb before giving you a desperate kiss, feeding on your lips like a hungry predator after a lean day. 

And when there were evenings when Sihtric came home, haunted by the thought of leaving you behind while he was on the battlefield, he would sit by your side by the fire, his forehead pressed against yours as hot tears crossed his sharp face, and kiss every inch of your exposed skin as if it were the last thing he could do before reaching Valhalla. You would spend the night cuddling in bed, crying in each other's arms before sleep took you both, and you would wake in the morning with emptiness wrapped around your arms. 

Uhtred had left weeks ago, taking Sihtric and the rest of his warriors and sailing to Datchet to secure the Thames for King Alfred. You would usually spend your time in Gisela's company, helping her with the household chores and keeping an eye on her children. But the restless night you were facing had left you with a throbbing headache and a bad mood, and you didn't feel the need for human companionship as much as the immaterial one of your thoughts and emotions.

You had learned over time how stressful and heartbreaking it could be to live with a warrior,  and watch him slip silently from your embrace at the crack of dawn. Loneliness had become your silent companion during those long waits, leaving your heart bleeding with pain and your mind filled with imaginary thoughts that would eventually haunt you in your sleep, tossing and turning as false scenarios formed in your mind, your breath itching in your dreams as you saw Sihtric lying lifeless on the ground, no weapons in his hands in your worst nightmares. 

You were jolted from your thoughts by two strong arms wrapped around your waist and a soft gasp escaped your lips. Your bare feet came out of the water and were soon planted on the floor, and before you could react the same arms wrapped around your waist, enveloping your petite body in a warm embrace, your back pressed against a broad chest. 

Fear clouded your mind as you thought you were trapped under the clasp of a filthy man who wanted nothing from you but the pleasure your body could provide, but when you felt the man's head pressed against your shoulder, you shivered as you recognised the touch of his soft lips pressed against the side of your neck. 

"My love," the soft and familiar voice called to you in a sweet chant, soon loosening its grip to allow you to turn around. And it was then that you recognised him: his lean face and sharp jaw, decorated with scars that crossed his forehead and one of his cheekbones, his dark hair cut short at the sides and combed in three braids, the kohl liner around his eyes that seemed to harden a tender and watchful gaze, and that unmistakable tattoo that ran from one side of his head to his neck. All features that could only belong to Sihtric, the Dane warrior who stole your heart from the first moment he laid eyes on you. 

You jumped on him, wrapping your neck around your arms and pecking his face with small kisses. Your sudden move caused him to step back, struggling to find the balance and not fall ruinously to the ground.

“You are back!” you happily stated, stepping back a little to admire him. “And without a scratch!”

“I will always find a way back to you,” Sihtric spoke quietly, a small smile forming on his lips as he rested his forehead on yours, allowing his lungs to fill with your scent, a mixture of myrtle, rosemary and wild flowers. 

“I looked for you all over the village, I thought I would have found you there,” he continued, taking one of your hands and pressing his lips on your slender fingers, enjoying the softness of your skin.

“I was in no mood to spend my time in the company of others,” you confessed lightheartedly, locking your gaze on his. "Besides, where could a defenceless lady go but to fantasise about her lover warrior by the lake?" 

Your witty reply made Sihtric chuckle and shake his head, grabbing your tiny waist with his large hands and pulling you close to him. But when your foreheads touched, too intoxicated by your inviting scent, his smile fell and two dark, troubled eyes extinguished the light they had every time he was near you. A long sigh followed, and you could tell that his mind was tortured as well. 

"Sihtric?" you called quietly, the light touch of your fingers on his cheek bringing him out of his thoughts. "Is something troubling you? Are you hurt?"

"No," was his quiet reply, whispered so softly as to be almost inaudible, and before you could question him further, he wrapped you in a long and desperate embrace, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breathing became shallow and erratic, and judging by his slight trembling, he was on the verge of tears.

“No other woman will be able to replace you. No one,” the Dane thought aloud, preventing you from replying back when his trembling lips captured yours in a needy and desperate kiss, storming your mind with questions you fear there can be no answers to. 

Later that day, the sun was high in the sky and a cloudless blue expanse rose over the village. You could feel the sun's rays hitting your skin with an unpleasant heat, but you were glad that there was a soothing breeze in the air, its cool touch like a balm to your skin, which had become slightly red from prolonged exposure to the sun.

Everyone was busy welcoming King Alfred to Coccham, followed by Lord Odda, some soldiers and thengs, and his small army of priests and monks. When they retired to the main hall to discuss urgent matters, you took the opportunity to release Sihtric from his duties, as his presence was not required at that moment, and hand in hand you walked through the gates of Coccham, approached the small harbour and rested on the grass. 

When you went outside, Sihtric finally gave you all the answers he had been unable to give you before, too overwhelmed by his emotions: he told you of his mission and the time he had spent in Datchet, and of the many times he had asked Uhtred for permission to marry you, only to be met with indifference or veiled refusal. He even told you how he had proposed to arrange a suitable marriage for him, and the very thought of it made you both feel sick inside. 

It was no surprise to you that both the Daneslayer and his warriors frowned upon you; your old profession was a stain on your character that was difficult to wipe away. You were aware of the mischievous glances and veiled comments they made whenever you sat at the same table outside their tavern, to which you always responded with stiff lips and restraint, unlike Sihtric, who, dulled by the alcohol that brought out his dormant impulsiveness, threatened to make the square to anyone who dared offend you. It was your task to calm him down each time, assuring him that it was a temporary situation and that everyone would get used to your presence. But deep in your heart you knew it wouldn't be so.

You sat back in the grass, Sihtric's head in your lap, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the light breeze caressing his face. You stroked his uncombed hair gently, giggling at how soft his hair felt to the touch, while your eyes continued to scan the surroundings, focusing on the men coming and going from the small wooden dock, busy unloading goods from ships or docking others. Then you took your eyes off the water and sighed as you spotted a group of ducks swimming happily in the water, followed by a small group of adorable ducklings squawking loudly.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to a small group of butterflies fluttering along the shore, slowly dispersing into the air, creating a spectacular display of colour. Your jaw dropped slightly, mesmerised by the delicate dance these insects were performing in the air, some allowing the wind to gently transport them from the nearest flowers and feed on their nectar, others resting gracefully on the grass and stretching their bright blue wings a little before continuing their dance. A pleasant warm spread across your chest, feeling a sense of peace and happiness crossing your face. 

“They are a beautiful sight,” a kneaded voice brought you back to reality, feeling Sihtric slightly shifting from your lap. His brown eye was open, looking at the butterflies, while his other one was covered by his forearm.

“Indeed,” you spoke softly, gently pressing your lips on his forehead. You could see his cheeks flushing with the brightest red. “They truly are.” 

One of the butterflies left its group, approaching you. Sihtric leanend one of his arms, stretching one of his fingers to welcome the insect. He chuckled lightly when he felt your curious gaze over him, and soon his mismatched eyes were locked into yours.

“I have heard stories saying that blue butterflies are meant to bring luck,” he explained quietly, his gaze now shifted again on the insect, which stood in midair, watching his finger. “The longer it stays on your finger, the longer your luck lasts.” 

Sihtric waited for the butterfly to pose on his finger, a hint of impatience growing in him as he secretly begged the insect to rest as long as possible and bring you both luck. But it chose not to rest, spreading its wings and turning its attention elsewhere. He let out a frustrated groan, which was greeted by your delicate laugh. Your voice was a melody to his ears. 

"Then I guess you have no luck," you said, a slight grin forming at the corner of your mouth, your hand continuing to rub Sihtric's hair in small, circular motions. Your reply caused Sihtric to move from where he was sitting on the grass and look at your face: his dark, loose hair seemed to soften his features, his two-toned eyes lit up at the sight of your smile, making his heart pound in his chest and his breath quicken. His trembling hands rested on your cheeks, rubbing them with the utmost care, afraid that you might break under his rough touch. 

"I am lucky, my lady," he whispered, resting his forehead on yours. "A little butterfly may not have given me luck, but the gods have given me you, a far greater blessing than any fleeting luck could provide." 

He slowly drew you closer, rubbing the tips of your noses and waiting for your permission. When you nodded softly, sighing at his soothing touch, he locked his lips to yours in a tender kiss, a light touch soon followed by deeper contact. He placed his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing urgently against it, rubbing your exposed flesh in slow, circular motions, his sudden movement making you tremble and a soft moan escaping your throat. 

As the kiss deepened and the heat of pleasure engulfed you both, you felt a gentle tickling crossing your hand, causing you to break the kiss. You looked down your hand and a gasp escaped from your lips.

"Sihtric, look!" you called, shaking his arm without hurting him too much, and when you were sure his gaze was fixed on you, you gently raised your hand to reveal the same butterfly as before peacefully perched on your finger. Words were superfluous to describe the surreal moment, and you both stood still, watching in amazement as its shiny wings closed and reopened, both of you secretly telling the insect to rest as much as it could. In this silent exchange of glances and thoughts, it was as if nature had intervened in your path, whispering promises of future serenity and joy amidst the chaos of the world. 

You felt Sihtric raising off the ground urgently, and without uttering a word he approached the gates. You gave him a puzzled look, stunned by his sudden move. “Where are you going?”

“To lord Uhtred,” Sihtric turned around and looked at you, a wide smile crossing his face. “I will ask his permission to marry you again.” 

“But lord Uhtred already gave his decision,” you replied back, slightly raising his voice as you saw him approaching the gates. 

“The blue butterfly.” he replied in a cheerful voice, pointing to the small insect still in your hand. “We have been blessed by luck. I will marry you, my love. I swear I will!” 

And it was at that moment that you saw his figure cross the gates and slowly disappear into the distance, leaving you alone. You let out a long sigh, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile, and fixed your gaze on the butterfly, which awkwardly spread its wings, leaving your finger behind before rejoining its group and disappearing into the air.  

That butterfly brought you luck. That was what Sihtric thought, while you continued to believe that Gisela's help was behind it all, when Uhtred finally gave his permission to marry you, on the condition that he complete a task for him. Sihtric came back to you, showering your face with soft and urgent kisses, his heart heavy at having to leave you again, but his spirit lifted at the thought that after this mission you would finally be his and his only. 

Fortunately, Sihtric didn't keep you waiting too long, for he returned from Skald's Hall a few days later, and by mutual agreement, a small and intimate wedding ceremony was held on Frigga's Day, according to Sihtric's religion and beliefs. His eyes could not stay in contact with yours for too long, your dazzling beauty sending shivers down his spine and dulling his senses, for he could still not believe that the gods had allowed him a glimpse of happiness by sending you on his path. After the exchange of your wedding rings and Sihtric's promise to be the devoted and loving husband you deserve, clutching his Mjolnir pendant in his hands, a kiss sealed the much awaited union, witnessed by the few present and the watchful eyes of the gods.

And when the two of you would sit in the same place years later with your stomach fertile with new life, a blue butterfly would rest on your outstretched finger, bringing good fortune and prosperity to your happy union for years to come.  

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

better off without me ◦ . ◦

synopsis: Aventurine thinks he knows what's best for the both of you. a/n: angsty oneshot I wrote based off of a prompt from here. tags: angst, aventurine, aventurine x reader, sad ending

ao3 link here!

You watch as the blond gambler saunters into the house, acting as if his very presence didn’t make your heart bloom and wilt simultaneously. 

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?”

The last few weeks blur in your mind. All those days and nights anxiously watching your phone, waiting for a text. A call. A note. Anything to let you know he’d be back, or that he was doing fine, or that he was thinking of you. Maybe even an “I’m missing you” but, clearly, for the gambler that was too much. 

You thought he had changed. You thought maybe there was something blooming, between the long nights and the expensive gifts. 

With the way the gambler was acting, as though nothing had changed, despite not returning any of your messages for weeks, there was nothing.

You ball your fists, tears stinging your eyes, as you rise from the living room couch and come to stand a couple feet away from him.

“Where were you?” you demand, trembling. “Where were you all this time?”

You see a hint of an emotion pass through his face. Could swear that it was guilt, sadness, pity. Even self-hatred. But just as soon as it had come, it was gone, and he was back to his strange grin.

“Don’t you remember? I told you I was going on an assignment before I left.”

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls? Or my messages?” Hot droplets trail rivers down your cheeks, pitter-pattering on the ground. “You could’ve let me know you were okay. Or alive.”

“I was busy, darling. I couldn’t—”

You smack him across the face. 

“Busy? Too busy for me?” You practically scream at him. The impact of your hit knocks off his serene mask, and now he’s looking at you with a stunned expression. “You didn’t have time for just one text back. Just one!

“Just one would have been enough,” you sob, pulling away and clapping a palm over your mouth as though you were trying to stem an open wound.

Aventurine looks away, and this time the expression of guilt doesn’t fade away when it comes. You stand there, waiting for an answer or an explanation, or even an angry insult. Anything. But the gambler doesn’t say anything.

“Do you even care about me at all? Did you ever care, all those nights? All the times we hung out? All those gifts you sent me?” The tears blur your vision now, and you wipe them away.

The gambler still doesn’t respond. 

“Say something!” you yell.

“No, you’re right,” he says, and if your heart was already broken it felt as though he ground the pieces into the dirt with his heel. “You’re right. I’ve been terrible to you.”

“No, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” you say, almost too choked up to speak. “That’s not what I want. I want you to apologize, tell me you’ll try harder next time.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t deserve me,” Aventurine says, looking at you. “You should move on.”

“No!” you yell. Why was he just giving up so easily? “I want to save us, why don’t you understand? Why won’t you try to hold on to us like I am?” 

Aventurine goes quiet again, and you can’t handle it anymore, your body wracking from each sob you let out. 

“Fine. Leave. Go. And never come back again.” The words are barely perceptible in between your cries.

Aventurine freezes for a moment, looking at you as if to verify that this wasn’t a joke. When you don’t respond, he moves towards the door, and you watch him. Just before he leaves, he pauses, looking back at you for a long time, as though committing your form to memory.

And then he’s gone.

You crumble to the floor, crying and sobbing and wailing until you’re exhausted and empty.

♤♤♤

Aventurine looked at the text you sent.

How’s your assignment going? I miss you.

He sighed. It had been five hours since he touched down on this planet, and here you were, checking up on him.

He didn’t hate it. In fact, he loved it. It’s took every ounce of his strength not to reply to you. 

But that was precisely why he couldn’t let himself reply.

The arrangement was meant to be temporary, noncommittal. He’d drop by for a night or two, then move on. Two nights became three, an afternoon became an evening, and a quick text became an hour long conversation. It wasn’t long after that he’d begun to shower you with gifts and affection throughout the day.

During one of your conversations over text, he’d typed in that’s what I love about you into the text bar.

Love? No, this was never supposed to turn into love. 

But one thought turned into another, and suddenly he was recounting all the things he loved about you in his mind. I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love when you pout because something hasn’t gone your way. I love, I love, I love.

And then the thoughts of everything between the two of you flooded over him. The way he bought you gifts, the way you smiled at him, the way you checked on him throughout the day, the way he loved curling up with you at night. 

Disastrous. No one was ever supposed to love him, least of all you. He was a hot mess of a man, distrustful and beaten and broken through and through. He was hateful, and awful. Unloveable.

He hit backspace, erasing what he had written. Replaced it with lol yeah. And decided then and there and he would slowly start to end things. 

To protect you from himself.

So he’d text you a little less throughout the day. Stopped giving you gifts. You didn’t notice it, because it was only a week and then he went to his assignment, where he decided he would cut it all off, then and there. 

He watched as you texted him, and then didn’t respond. Watched as your texts turned from joyful, to confused, to sad, to desperate. You didn’t stop texting him, though. You texted him almost everyday. Ironically, Aventurine realized what the full extent of your love was as he was cutting you off, but he couldn’t turn back now. It was better this way, he told himself. You were better off without him. 

But when he came back, he realized he couldn’t keep himself away from you. He had to see you one last time.

So he paid you a visit, deciding to act as though nothing was wrong, just to twist the knife a little. To make sure you would absolutely hate him. And then when you told him to leave, he left. But not before giving you one last glance, memorizing your form in his mind, your tearstained cheeks he could kiss every day for the rest of his life, your wet eyes he could stare into forever. The anguished look on your face he desperately wished he could turn into a smile.

But there was no turning back now.

You’re better off without him. Yes, that’s what he tells himself as he lays in bed tonight and holds his phone to his heart, your past text messages displayed on the screen. That’s what he tells himself as a single tear falls from his lashes, wetting the pillowcase beneath him. 

You’re better off without him.

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs and comments appreciated!

[weareapackofstrays]

Come Light Me Up // Ji Changmin

Genre: Non-Idol college au, classmates to lovers?

Pairing: Changmin (Q) x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Masturbation. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: 3,305

A/n: Loosely inspired by a dream I had last night. Wrote this one quickly so there will probably be some mistakes. Graphics by @saradika-graphics!

It was the start of a new semester. While the first day of classes made some students nervous, you looked forward to it. Everything smelled like fresh books, paper, and ink. There were only two more semesters left until graduation and you couldn’t contain your excitement. A few of your classes this semester were completely online, which was convenient for you since you had to take on a few extra shifts to pay for this year's books and labs. 

After clicking the zoom link to start your first class of the day, you scan over the 20 or so faces blinking back at you for anyone familiar. While you recognize a few students from previous classes, one unfamiliar face grabs your attention most. Your eyes fall on a man who you had not seen before. He is dressed in a simple black t-shirt and grey sweats. You notice he is sitting on his bed as if he just woke up and his ruffled dark hair definitely looks suspiciously like bedhead. He was too casual and it irked you. While you weren’t a perfectionist, you still felt like how you presented yourself on the first day of class set a precedent for the rest of the semester. You force your attention away from him to focus on your Professor’s greetings. 

As class progressed you kept catching yourself staring at the student who you learned was named Changmin. He seemed so uninterested in class and it looked like something was distracting him off camera. It annoyed you and you weren’t sure why. Did you find him attractive? Of course. Changmin was very good looking, but he gave off douchey vibes so you did your best to pay him no mind. A task that would prove difficult.

The days pass by and you still find yourself totally bothered by this guy. Your eyes kept finding Changmin on the screen every time you attended class. And to make things worse, even though he never seemed like he was listening to the lecture, he still got every answer correct when the professor asked. It was starting to piss you off. I’m sure if anyone was watching you they could visibly see your annoyance and unbeknownst to you, someone was watching. Sometimes you would catch Changmin’s eyes staring right into the camera and you could swear they were looking back at you. But there was no way…right? 

If there was anything he was paying attention to, it was you. Changmin noticed you on the first day of class too and every time you popped up on the screen he would look you over. He found it amusing the way you would be dressed up, make up done, even for a Zoom class. Like today for example, your hair was in a half updo, clipped back with a large pink bow. You were wearing what he assumed was either a blouse or dress with puffy white sleeves that only annoyingly teased your cleavage. He couldn’t tell if you had lipstick on, but your lips looked particularly glossy…and delicious. Changmin could tell you were the type to be a teacher’s pet and the idea of corrupting you started to quickly creep into his mind. He watched every facial expression of yours, noticing how excited you would get when you knew the answer to something and the way you’d grow agitated every time he beat you to the answer. Your perfect facade faltering before him. He especially loved the way your lips would pout when you were trying to concentrate. It drove him crazy. He could no longer hold back so he decided to take a chance.

-

During the third week of class, your Professor announced that there would be a test coming up this Friday. You tried to remain calm, but the thought of a test so soon gave you anxiety. A ding from your zoom chat pops up interrupting your thoughts. It’s a private message from a classmate. You squint at your screen to see who the message is from. Surely, you must be misreading. It was from Changmin?! 

Changmin: hey, wanna study together? 

You have not actually interacted with Changmin before, in fact, you're not even sure you have ever exchanged words. The extent of your interactions was usually him saying something that bothered you and you rolling your eyes at him several times throughout the class. You continue to stare at his message. Hesitating for a few more moments, you finally start to type. Changmin watches you intently, anticipating your reply.

Y/n: Why do you want to study with me?

Changmin smiles while reading your message. 

Changmin: because we’re probably the only two in this class who actually give a shit 

You snort, forgetting your audio is on and quickly rush to mute yourself. Changmin watches your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and laughs. Even though the conversation is private, you still look around at the other classmates nervously wondering if they know what’s going on.  

Changmin: you’re cute

You bite your lip to hold back a smile not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Changmin watches you roll your eyes at him, as you usually do, and it ignites his hunger further. 

Y/n: Fine.  Changmin: i’ll zoom you tomorrow night? Y/n: Sure, 8pm tomorrow then. Just ping me. Changmin: 8 is kind of late, no?

You glare at him briefly before responding.

Y/n: I get off work at 7:00 so I will need some time to get back and change. Changmin: sounds good. I’ll call you at 8pm sharp. Can’t wait!

Ignoring his last message, you turn your attention back to the Professor. Changmin can’t erase the grin on his face for the rest of class.

-

The next day you rush home after work to hop in the shower. Butterflies start to dance in your belly, but you do your best to shoo them away. You consider dressing up like you usually do for class, but worry Changmin will think you’re trying too hard. Ugh, why do you care what Changmin thinks, Y/n? You settle on a t-shirt and shorts with some cozy socks. Looking at the clock on your laptop, you start to feel the nerves as the time approaches 8pm. You continue to look at the clock and your watch every few seconds until finally the Zoom call notification pops up on your desktop. Shooting up from your chair, you quickly take a look in the mirror one last time to check your appearance before answering. 

“Changmin.” You say simply, lacking any emotion.

“Y/n,” he responds with a hint of amusement. 

You grab your textbook and open it. “I figured we could start from the beginning to refresh our memory first before diving into the most recent lectures.”

Changmin smiles, placing a pair of black rimmed glasses on. He looks good and he knows it. “Whatever you say.” He reaches for his book as well and opens it to the first chapter. “I’m all yours.” You grimace and give him a pointed look. He laughs and you watch the way his Adam's apple bobs on his long neck. He crosses his arms in front of him and your attention shifts to the curve of his biceps. Changmin is wearing a white t-shirt and what look to be his usual grey sweats. He notices your attention and tilts his head curiously. “Are we going to get started?” Your eyes dart up to meet his realizing you’ve been caught looking at him. You clear your throat and thumb through a few pages. 

Changmin actually turns out to be a decent study partner and you're shocked at how thorough his notes are. After about 20 minutes into your study session, Changmin decides he’s bored and wants to change the subject.

“Why do you get dressed up for every class?” You look up from your note taking and cock an eyebrow at him.

“I could ask you the same.” 

“But I don't.” 

“Exactly.” You throw him a sarcastic smile. He smirks in response.

“So…?” He’s waiting for your answer. You sigh and place your pen down. 

“Because I can.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

“Why do you care?” you ask, resuming your writing.

Changmin places his thumb and index finger on his chin to ponder. When he doesn't immediately reply you look back up at him. “I suppose I just find it interesting when the rest of the class are practically in pajamas or off camera. Are you trying to impress someone?”

“Maybe I just like looking my best.”

“But right now you look pretty casual.”

You look down at your attire and internally curse. Maybe you should have dressed up. As if reading your thoughts, Changmin quickly adds, “Not that you don’t look good. I like the way you look tonight too.”

You’re not sure how to reply to his flirtation attempt so you try to get back on task. 

“I think the Professor is definitely going to have chapter 3 on the exam. He dedicated two of our lectures to it so I think we should review our mutual notes.”

Changmin pushes back on his chair, balancing on the back legs. He places his hands behind his head. “Mhmm,” he simply hums in agreement. You look up from your book and notice Changmin’s shirt has ridden up, exposing his midriff. His stomach is taut and toned. You try to continue your thought, but end up stuttering over your words. He reaches down and rubs his abs and that’s when you notice the veins leading down his stomach disappearing into his briefs. Changmin’s legs are slightly parted, giving you a full view of his lean body.

“Um,” You try to compose yourself, but struggle. “We..um..page 46…” Words fail as you start to imagine where those thick veins lead to. 

“What was that, Y/n? Didn’t quite catch what you said.” You look at him and frown. He’s teasing you and you know it.

“What are you doing?” You ask, impatience in your tone. 

“I see the way you watch me in class, Y/n.” Pleasure shoots down your spine and you shiver. 

Attempting to feign ignorance, you turn away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yes, you do. I watch you too. Every time I see you roll your eyes at me I think about stuffing my cock down your throat to teach you a lesson.” You drop the pen in your hand. 

“Wh-what did you just say?” 

Changmin leans into the camera. His eyes shift down to stare at your mouth. “I think about the way those pretty lips would feel wrapped around my dick.” He closes his eyes briefly and moans as if imagining it right now. “Drives me wild. I look forward to seeing you every class. Thinking about ways I can piss you off.” 

“Changmin…you shouldn’t say these things,” you squeak.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to.” He leans back in his chair again and crosses his arms. The veins on his toned forearms poke out and you gulp at the thought of them around you, his hands gripping your neck. You shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. Changmin smirks and meets your eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” He palms his groin and you realize he’s hard.

“Fuck,” you say to yourself. Changmin places a hand around the outline of his dick and starts to stroke himself. You bite your lip as you watch him, feeling yourself growing wetter with each stroke. His eyes are on you as he slowly rubs up and down. A low groan escapes his throat.

“No,” you finally say.

“No what?” His voice is hoarse. 

“No, don’t stop.”

Changmin pushes his sweats down slightly to give you a better view of his hard dick and for better access. 

“Like what you see?” You nod enthusiastically and he chuckles.

“Does baby wanna see my cock?” You nod again.

“Use your words, Y/n,” he says sternly.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“I can’t hear you, baby.”

“Yes, I wanna see it.” Your voice is more confident. 

“And what will you give me in return?” 

Meeting his eyes, you ask, “What do you want, Changmin?” 

“Take your shirt off.”

Completely committed to whatever this game is, you agree to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you just in your pink lacy bra. 

“Mmm so pretty. What type of pants are you wearing?” 

You tilt the screen of your laptop to give him a view of your whole body. You’re in a pair of sleep shorts. Pushing your desk chair out of the way, you stand. Changmin looks you up and down, finally getting the chance to admire your full form.

“Take your pants off, sweetheart.” 

You shake your head. “Your shirt first.” 

Changmin considers refusing you, but he thinks your demanding tone is hot and does as you say. His body is chiseled. You’re surprised at how tiny his waist is and it makes your mouth water. Starry eyed and mouth agape, you stare unabashedly now as he resumes touching himself.

“Y/n, take your shorts off.” He is growing impatient with each touch of his hand. You stand and drop them to the floor, revealing a matching pink lace thong.

“You got all dressed up for me, baby?”

“No…”

“I bet you wanted to show it off. Hoped this would happen, huh? Fucking slut.”

You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.” Despite your words, you can feel how aroused you are. Feeling bold, you sit on the edge of your bed and spread your legs, giving him a view of your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, Y/n.” He starts to stroke himself faster.

“Take your pants off, Changmin.” 

“Ooh, say my name again, baby!” he moans.

“Please Changmin,” you whine as need starts to take over you.

He stands and slides his sweats off. The head of his cock is peeking out of his briefs and you lean towards the camera a little for a better view. You want to touch yourself, but still feeling shy, you resign to rubbing your thighs instead. He sits back down, keeping his legs spread for you.

“I want to see your boobs.” 

You chuckle and unhook your bra without hesitation. You're horny and want this as much as him now. He watches it fall to the ground. You move closer to the camera so he can see your breasts better and now his mouth drops. You smile at the way his body reacts to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Y/n. I just want to wrap my lips around your tits. Swirl my tongue until your nipples are hard.” You suck in a breath trying to hold back a moan. “Are they hard right now?” He wonders aloud.

You gently rub over your nipple knowing full well they’re erect. “Yes,” you say.

“Fuck I bet they taste amazing.”

“I wanna taste you, Min.” His eyes widen, surprised by your candor. 

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill your mouth with my come?” You nod eagerly.

“Let me see you,” you demand.

He shakes his head. “Need you to earn it, baby girl. What do I get in return if I take my cock out for you?” You take a moment to think, then sit back on your bed. Leaning on your hands, you spread your legs wide again and dip your fingers into your panties. A breathy moan escapes you at the contact. Changmin groans in response. “Yeah, baby. Touch yourself, like that.” You toss your head back at the feeling of your fingers on your sensitive clit. “Don’t take your eyes off of me, Y/n.” You face him again and continue to rub while he stares. 

“Well?” You moan out. He nods understanding your question. Changmin lifts his waist and pushes his briefs off. His cock springs back, slapping against his abs while precum dripples down the sides. He looks so hard and you can tell he needs relief. You lick your lips at the sight of his long cock. “Touch yourself too, Changmin. Get off with me.”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He spits in his hand and starts to fist his cock, squeezing his red tip with each pump. You pick up your pace, the sounds of your arousal and his slick fist echo around you. Your breathing starts to quicken and you can’t stop the moans that leave your lips. “Stick your fingers inside and pretend it’s me.” You do as you're told and try to reach your sensitive spot.

“Mmm not enough. I need you, baby,” you whine.

“I know, I wish I was there with you. Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah, next time I’ll come over and fuck you for real.”

“Come over now then.”

“But you look so pretty touching yourself for me.” He tries to match your pace as you push in and out of yourself spreading your wetness back over your clit.

“Feels so good, Min. Wish you could have a taste.”

“Oh, fuuckkk. Baby, have a taste for me.” You pause momentarily, never having tasted yourself before, but you want to please him. Removing your fingers, you insert them into your mouth and sigh at the taste on your tongue. Changmin curses and starts to pump faster.

“Such a, fuck…such a good girl.” He can’t hide his moans anymore and you're surprised at how high pitched they are. It turns you on further so you return your fingers to your clit to rub harder. “I’m close, Y/n. So fucking close, but I wanna come with you.”

“Wait.” Impatiently, you take your panties off giving him a full view of your pussy. Changbin bites his lip as he looks over your body, watching the way your face contorts as you pleasure yourself. His orgasm is fast approaching.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. I’m going to destroy you.” His words help bring you closer to your release, pleasure building with each bump to your clit. Your ministrations increase and you can feel the band about to snap. 

“Min, I’m, I’m-” tears start to spring at the corners of your eyes. You’re so close. “Ah, ah, ah, ah.” Your cries increase. 

“Yea, baby, fuck! I’m gonna come too.”

“I’m…Changmin, I’m��coming!” You gasp. Changmin shouts your name as he comes with you, spilling white hot liquid over his hand. He continues to pump himself through his orgasm and you do the same. Moaning and rubbing until your thighs start to shake. He looks into your eyes as the two of you try to recover your breathing. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. 

“Y/n, you’re so beautiful,” Changmin says suddenly. The compliment makes your heart flutter. He looks down at his covered hand, amazed at how hard he came. 

“If I was there I’d lick you clean,” you say.

“I bet you would. Guess you’ll just have to show me next time.”

“Next time.” You agree. 

Changmin walks off screen to wash his hand so you put your shirt and shorts back on. When he comes back, you sit back in your chair at your desk. Changmin notices how flushed your cheeks are. His attention makes you feel hot all over. You both sit in silence. He struggles to think of what to say next and you giggle at how nervous he suddenly seems. 

“Not getting shy on me now are you, Min?” He rolls his eyes at your teasing and you both laugh.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Not sure if this study session was too helpful…” 

Shaking your head, you chuckle before giving him a wave. “See you.” 

“Good night, Y/n.” Changmin returns your wave.

“Good night.” You both smile at each other before closing out the zoom. 

End.

xx

[seeingivy]

sofia

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: champagne problems by taylor swift, when emma falls in love by taylor swift, and minor sofia by clairo insinuation (+ the name of the chapter)

“Can I ask for a favor?” Eren asks. 

You look up to find Eren and Armin standing in front of the dining table, both leaning on the backs of the chairs. The first whiff you get is a mix of sweat and deodorant, and you instinctively push your notebook closer to you and nod. 

You hate that Eren and Armin work out together. 

Not really, of course. You’re glad that Armin was able to find some type of segway that felt comfortable enough for him to interact with Eren, that they were slowly building back whatever it was that they lost. 

You just hate that Eren always wears that stupid headband to keep her hair back and insists on wearing a tank top – or no shirt at all –  for the five mile run they do at the end. 

You’re lucky that today is the former and not the latter. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” you ask. 

Eren places the little glass bowl in front of you, before giving Armin a nod, and sliding into the chair across from you. Armin takes his leave with Annie at his side, before giving you a passive wave over the shoulder. 

The first thing you note is that Eren’s fish tattoo is on display. It’s one of the few moments that you get to admire it – the physical reminder of you inked on to his arm – since the makeup team is always covering it up or he’s wearing a jacket. 

And the second is that Eren doesn’t really fit in the chair – because his legs are overstretched and hanging against the sides of the legs – and he nearly falls back when he moves a little too much. 

It’s crazy to think that there was a time that you and Eren would have your feet dangling in the air from how high the chairs used to be. 

You eye the little bowl, before reaching forward for it, and taking it in your hands. There’s only two little requests left, though you swear yesterday that you only had one left – which was Eren’s. 

“I know I technically already have a request in there. But could you please do another one for me?” Eren asks. 

“Sure. Which one is it that you want me to pull? The green slip or the pink one?” 

“Oh, no. It’s a separate request. I need you to write a song about Mikasa for me.” Eren responds. 

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” 

You reach forward into the bowl anyways and pull both of the slips out but Eren’s quick to reach forward and snatch them from your hands, much to your dismay.

“Hey!” 

“I just asked you to write a different song. Why did you take both of these out?” Eren asks. 

“Why are you in such a rush? I already have a song about Mikasa somewhere in one of my books, I just need to find it. I’m more curious about who added a request yesterday because there was only one left last night.” you respond. 

“It’s part of my gift for Mikasa. The wedding is next week, idiot.” 

Shit. You had yet to plan what you were going to give Jean. 

Eren looks back at the little slips, before tucking the green one closer to him and handing you the pink. You take it in your hands and find Sofia’s name scribbled over the top and open the slip. 

“It’s Sofia.” 

You pale when you read the slip. 

write a song with historia about how she said no to ymir’s proposal. (please!!!! if you can!) 

You hand it over to Eren who reads it before setting it down on the table. 

“Just don’t sing it at the end, especially if Ymir is there.” Eren responds. 

“I…do you think I should? From my very limited information, I think Ymir would hate it if Historia wrote another song about her.” you respond.

“That information is very limited because you refuse to talk to Historia. And Ymir won’t talk about it unless you ask, which you won’t.” Eren responds. 

You slouch back into your chair. 

“I’m not refusing to talk to her. I’m just in my nice….ignorance is bliss bubble. I like Ymir and Sofia but I also like Historia. I don’t want to get all complicated with the feelings if I know everything that happened.” you respond. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“You’re already mentally siding with Ymir because you know that Ymir got on her hands and knees and begged Historia to be with her after she said no to the proposal. And because you like Sofia.” Eren responds. 

“Can we go back to when you weren’t calling me out on my shit? What gift are you getting, Mikasa?” you ask. 

Eren smiles, before leaning forward. 

“For the record, I…I sided more with Ymir and Sofia too. Or did originally at least. I feel like you’ll run into the same thing as me, but we can’t really hold it against Historia. She just has different priorities than us and picked differently than we would have, but it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. And I’m making Mikasa an edited video and I want the song in the background to be about her. Preferably written by her best friend.” Eren responds. 

“Do you think Historia will hang Sofia at the stake for requesting this?” you ask.

Eren shrugs. 

“I’m positive that Sofia just requested it because Historia’s been making lots of snide comments to Ymir all week. And saying stuff about Sofia that she eventually finds out about. Everyone’s been telling her about how the songs and stuff have been helping them with their own situation, so she might have just seen it as a segway. Just don’t tell Historia who asked for it and  make it seem like it’s your idea. I don’t think Sofia meant ill will.” Eren responds. 

“No. No, I don’t think she meant anything malicious either. She’s so sweet. And she must feel awkward since we all grew up together and she’s the other woman, or something” you respond. 

“Yeah, she is really sweet. She kind of reminds me of you, sometimes.” Eren adds. 

“As if. She reminds me of you – she literally has the same dimples.” 

Eren scoffs. 

“Lots of people have dimples. I would look like half of the people on the planet by that logic. She actually reminds me of you, when you first got here. She’s just so…” Eren responds. 

“Normal.” you respond. 

Eren sighs. 

“Yeah.” 

 You choose to withhold your comments about how you're not that type of normal anymore. And it sours all together – because that was one of the things that Eren really loved about you when you first started dating. 

Eren gives you a smile before making his move to leave. But he stops before he retreats to his room, his hand is warm on your shoulder as he squeezes. 

“Still the same in all the ways that matter. To me, at least.” Eren mumbles, before walking off. 

You sigh. 

If Sukuna was still here, he’d call you hopeless. And you’d have to agree with him. 

--

You find Historia on set, intently watching Eren and Armin while they’re filming. You take the seat next to her, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder and catch her attention, as she shuffles to the side and makes space for you. 

“Hi Hisu.” you whisper. 

“Is the Y/N L/N finally gracing me with her presence?” Historia responds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Shut up.” 

You feel a tiny smack, before you turn around to find Levi glaring at the two of you. And the guilty culprit – the pencil he projectile launched at the two of you. 

“You two shut up.” Levi warns, before walking back to where he was standing at the viewfinder, with Hange. 

You both smile, like you’ve been caught passing notes by a teacher, before looking back down at the script to the scene that they were filming. 

“So what did you think?” Armin asks. 

“About what?” Eren asks. 

“About Y/N?” Armin asks. 

You lean forward, tucking your legs close to your chest, as you watch them. 

“The makeup team did really well with the hair.” Historia whispers. 

“Yeah. It almost looks like he still has the man-bun.” you respond. 

“Which hair was your favorite?” Historia asks. 

You pause. 

“I like the length it’s at right now. But, I kind of liked his short hair, like from before. Sometimes I feel like when his hair is too long it kind of drowns everything else out, like his eyes and stuff.” you respond. 

“Imagine thinking you’re not in love with the guy but talking about him like that.” Historia grumbles, as you reach to shove her in the side. 

“Who said I think that?” you respond. 

You watch as Historia’s eyes widen and you turn back to the two of them. 

“Do you think she’ll be able to forget about you and live happily with someone else? Just like you wanted.” Armin asks. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Well. Who knows?” Eren asks. 

Armin reaches forward and punches Eren in the face. You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from flinching, as you turn to your left to find Reiner and Connie shoving their faces into their own scripts to avoid distracting them with their laughter.

Reiner and Connie never got over laughing at immature stunts. Like punching each other. 

“The hell kind of answer is that? I still haven’t forgiven you! How do you feel about the fact that you ignored Y/N’s feelings?” Armin screams. 

You bite down on your lip. The deja vu feels uncanny. 

“Y/N risked her life and only ever had eyes for you. Did you really think you could say forget about me and it would be just that?” 

Sometimes you wonder if Eren’s a sadist for writing scenes like this into the show. You’re positive Levi must have insinuated the same when he suggested the entire thing to him. 

“At the very least, Y/N should forget about a heartbreaker like you and find happiness. She might find a good guy sooner than you think and hit it off with him.” Armin responds. 

It comes out quietly – Eren’s voice. Almost like a whimper. 

In all honesty, you had almost forgotten he was there for a second, with Armin’s screaming. But when you look over, you find Eren sitting there in the water, with tears streaming out of his eyes. 

“No. No, that would kill me.” Eren responds, his voice breaking. 

You press your hands to your cheeks, letting your fingers block out the periphery as you watch the two of them, and feel your chest compress. It’s almost like you can feel everyone else looking at you – Jean and Mikasa, Historia at your side – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“I don’t want her to find someone else. I want to be her one and only for the rest of my life! And after I die, I want her to pine after me for at least ten years!” Eren responds. 

Armin pauses, lifting his hands to tousle his hair. 

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d say something so…pathetic…” Armin responds. 

Eren sighs, shoving his palms into the sockets of his eyes to still the crying. 

“Don’t tell Y/N any of this. I want her to find happiness. I really do…I don’t want to die. I can’t leave Y/N…or any of you.” 

Armin crouches down, hands heavy on his shoulders, as he pleads. 

It’s enough to make the wave of discomfort bubble up in your throat – because it’s the exact same as last time. And even in the fictional version, Eren won’t heed anyone’s advice. 

“Eren! Let’s keep trying! Let’s find another way!” Armin screams. 

You can’t watch them anymore. You reach for your script, giving Historia a smile, before you retreat to the dressing room and give Levi a wave as you pass. You can tell that he shoots you a concerned look, which you shake off, before you settle into one of the makeup rooms at the back and slam the door behind you. 

“We don’t need you till later.” 

“Yeah, I…just needed a breather from out there. Do you mind?” 

The stylist shakes her head as you shoot her a smile and settle into the chair. You lift the script again, still open on the page that they were just shooting out there, as you pause. 

You focus more carefully this time on the lines. You had read this scene when Eren wrote it – way back when, when he and Armin were still fighting. But Eren had given you the second half – about meeting each other in hell. 

You never read the part that he just said because Eren never wrote it. The only line that he was actually in the script was the first one, about how it would kill him. 

He had improvised the rest. 

It was like a lingering thought that was in the back of your mind at all times. 

Now that your previous excuse, that you needed everything to be settled before you could even think about Eren, was virtually gone. 

You had done the awards show, you had given your performance. And as annoying as it was, Eren was right. The heaviness of letting go was because now you had to move forward, because that chapter of york ife was sealed now. Danny and Sareen, Scott Clarkson and Hyla, Ricky even – they were always just going to be a footnote from here on out. 

Which is why you spent all three days of the break that Levi and Hange gave you thinking about Eren. About what would be the right way to approach him again. And every idea that you came up with seemed horrible, not good enough to bring him back. 

Deep down, you knew that Eren wanted you. That some part of him still loved you, and that if you made the move, he wouldn't reject you. 

The fear was what came after that. What if your relationship wasn’t the same? What if you two had changed too much, that there was just too much baggage that you both came with, that it would eventually drag you down? 

Then you’d really lose Eren forever. It almost felt safer to keep it the way it was now. 

But that came with its own mess. Because Eren wouldn’t wait for you forever and if you had to watch him move on with someone like Sofia, the same way Historia had to watch Ymir, you’re positive that you would handle it worse than her. 

There’s a knock on the door and it’s almost like you’ve summoned her by thinking about her. Because Historia’s peeking into the room, gesturing for you to follow her out. And you oblige, as the two of you quietly march back to the townhouse, arm in arm. 

--

Historia takes you straight to her room. And you note the sign scribbled on the door, how Historia’s crossed Ymir’s name out as you walk in. You both settle into the sheets, Historia throwing the throw blanket over the two of you, as you stare up at the ceiling. 

It’s quiet. And the thoughts are racketing around in your brain like a pinball machine. 

“I’m getting deja vu.” Historia states. 

You laugh. 

“Tell me about it.” you respond. 

“Can I tell you something that won’t help in any shape or form?” Historia responds. 

“Please.” 

“He improvised all of those lines.” Historia responds. 

“I knew that already. I realized it when I went into the stylist’s trailer.” you respond. 

“Well, he kept going after you left. He’s either down horrendous or he really wants to win an award.” Historia responds. 

You smile. 

Eren probably would win an award for this. And if he was lucky, he’d win Actor in a Leading Role – and actually get to celebrate it this time around. 

The thought of getting to win a triple threat again crosses your mind, but falls dead in its tracks. No one’s ever gotten it twice. And it was insinuated enough that it was more of a…lifetime achievement award, so your chance was already out the door. 

“So. You said no when she proposed to you?” you ask. 

She doesn’t respond. You look over to find her staring at the ceiling, her eyes almost blank. You reach for her hands under the blanket, following her lead instead of asking again. 

You can only imagine how agonizing it must be to watch someone as…nonchalant as Ymir beg on her hands and knees. 

“I would have married her.” she whispers. 

You feel your chest tighten, as you pinch your eyes shut. This is exactly what you didn’t want to hear. 

“I-I really would have, I swear. I just wasn’t ready.” Historia repeats. 

The retort is on the tip of your tongue. How were you not ready when you’ve loved Ymir since you were kids? 

But then again, you’ve loved Eren since then you were kids too. And you have yet to muster up enough courage to go for him, when he’s standing right in front of you basically waiting for it. 

“It was really perfect. She had invited everyone to fly out and come watch us, after I was done touring. Levi and Hange were there, Sasha and Jean, even Erwin was there. And they were all watching from afar and…and she…” 

Historia pauses. 

“I…I was already crying when she started by saying my dear, Historia. I could see the little box in her hand and I knew what was coming. And then she….she dropped to her knees.” Historia starts. 

She shakes her head, almost like she’s trying to rid herself of the mental image. 

“I always had this stupid running joke, ever since we first got together, that Ymir would never humble herself to propose on her knees. That…that was never really her style, to do something like that even though I’ve always wanted someone to propose to me like that. I’m more traditional and…and Ymir really hates that type of shit, so I just figured she wouldn’t do it when the time came.” 

You sigh. 

“I only knew the answer was no when she actually got on her knees and asked me. Because…because if it was me, I…I wouldn’t ever do that for her.” Historia adds. 

“What?” 

“I wouldn’t do that for her. If getting on my knees and proposing wasn’t my style, I wouldn’t get on my knees and propose. But…Ymir would, for me. And I know it’s fucking stupid and not that serious, but I just…” 

Ymir loved Historia, more than Historia loved her.

“I couldn’t say yes in good faith… because I wouldn’t give something up for her like that. Or…or for anyone, at that time. Even if it was something as trivial as where you stand while you’re proposing.” Historia states. 

You pause. You can tell what she’s trying to get at, though the comparison is hardly fair. 

“Well, your career is hardly trivial to you. But in all honesty, I don’t think you’d lose your career if you were a popstar who was gay.” you note.

Historia sighs. 

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I know that…that a lot of you don’t and that…that I must seem stupid but. But –” 

You hear her sniffle, turning your side to note that there’s tears flowing out of her eyes. 

“I’m not a bad guy for wanting to keep my career the way it is now. I’m not the villain for saying no to her proposal and not wanting people to know that I’m gay. Getting to make music, being in shows like this – it’s what I love. You know that most things like this are…are temporary anyways. I still need something I can fall back on.” she responds. 

You deflate. There was a small part of you that was hoping that she would deny it. That this wasn't really the reason that she said no. You lean closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder. 

“No one thinks you’re the bad guy, Historia. And you’re not the villain for wanting to keep your own life private. We…we just don’t like that you think you can’t be a popstar and be gay at the same time. There’s….there’s so many people who are successful. Just look at Hange.” 

Historia shakes her head. 

“Hange…doesn’t count to me. I had even tried to talk to them about it, but…it didn’t really apply. They even agreed with me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hange blends in more than I do. Then Ymir and I would. They’re dating Levi and...if you didn’t know, you would think they’re a straight couple. On the outside, when they walk on red carpets together, they still look normal to people. But if Ymir and I…” 

“It would be different. There would be no question.” you respond. 

“You know that Hange gets overlooked for certain opportunities, right? Imagine if it were me. I’m not charismatic like Satoru Gojo and…and maybe I don’t want to have to forge my own path. I get that it’s glamorous to do things like this to some people but…it feels unfair that everyone else gets to do things normally but I have to be some trailblazer just to get to the same place.” 

You don’t know what to say. Because it makes complete sense to you. And she had checked you on what you had been thinking yourself. 

That Historia was insanely talented and that she’d continue to prove herself just as she did before people started doubting her. That when she came out of it at the end, people would love and praise her – for going above and beyond mere expectations that were put on her and staying true to herself. 

But it wasn’t fair. And you know well enough now, there’s nothing glamorous or fulfilling about climbing your way to the top like that. To have people speculate on every portion of your life, especially something so sacred like the ones you hold ear. To expect Historia to do it would be unfair. 

Eren’s words echo through your mind. Just because her priorities aren’t the same as ours doesn’t mean she’s wrong. 

It’s a silent thankfulness you have – that you and Eren are on the same page. You wouldn’t be able to handle it half as well as Ymir if he wasn’t. If he had picked his career over you.  

“Things like love aren’t temporary, though. You could have fallen back on her when things got hard.” you murmur. 

Historia scoffs. 

“You don’t believe that.” Historia seethes in response. 

“I do. There’s…there’s so many examples of it around us.” you respond. 

“I know that everyone’s on a high because Jean and Mikasa are getting married next week. But you weren’t here when they were fighting. I promise you, no part of that was pretty for Jean. She gave him more hurt than he deserved.” 

“But they moved past that! They love each other now.” 

“But not everyone does. Not everyone gets to rock bottom and climbs their way out – and in fact, most people don’t. Jean and Mikasa are the exception, not the rule. If you didn’t think that was true, you and Eren would be going to the wedding as a couple.” 

You sigh. She’s wrong. She’s so wrong – but you can’t throw it in her face. 

“It doesn’t seem like you really believe it either.” you respond. 

Historia shrugs. 

“Two things can be true at one time, Y/N. I can believe in love but know that Ymir and I are hopeless. We have been since she kneeled.” 

You reach for your notebook, which you had discarded on the floor, and for the shitty pen that was left in between the pages and scribble on the first open spot you find. 

sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you 

The question bites at you. Historia still loves Ymir. 

“Would you say yes if she asked you now?” you ask. 

“Yeah. I think I would.” 

“Even if she got on her knees?”

“I’d crouch down just to be there with her.” Historia responds. 

The earnestness in the statement makes your heart crush. She was already too late. 

“What do you think about Sofia?” 

Historia rolls her eyes. 

“It’s irritating how likable she is. Like it actually pisses me off.” 

You snort. That sounds familiar. 

“Lacy, oh lacy…” you hum. 

“You’re not funny, bitch.” Historia responds, reaching to shove you in the side. 

You both laugh. 

“I wrote a few songs about her and Sofia. No one knew it was about them, but…but Ymir knew. Sofia knew, but she was too nice to say anything about it. I wrote this song called traitor, because technically, Ymir actually knew Sofia while we were still together. And she got mad because…” 

“Because how is she a traitor if you’re the one who said no…” you finish. 

“Yeah. It…it really hurt, Ymir. And maybe I did that on purpose, just because…I never actually expected her to move on. It felt like a betrayal to me.” Historia adds. 

“I know you’ve been making…comments here and there. To Sofia and Ymir. I know you don’t like her, but…you made your bed, Historia. You have to lay in it now.” you respond. 

She doesn’t respond. 

“I think Ymir and Sofia just want what’s best for you. Sofia is the one who wanted me to write a song with you about it, just…just so you could get some of it off of your chest. We all want you to be happy.” 

Historia pushes up off the bed, hiking her knees to her chest, as she buries her face into the hardness of her knees. You can tell that she’s racking out a sob, her breaths heavy, as you wrap your arms around her, resting your head against hers. 

“Historia–” 

“If Ymir wanted me to be happy, she would have gotten back together with me when I asked yesterday.” Historia mumbles. 

You cringe. 

“Don’t tell me you –” you murmur. 

“We…we were talking about how nice it was to be around each other again at the funeral. And Ymir was saying that…that I’d always be someone who would bring comfort to her, just like I did to her then. I thought she was trying to say that it was always going to be me so I asked. I begged her this time. And she said no.” Historia adds. 

“Historia, I’m so sorry. You–” 

She shakes her head. It’s almost like you’ve hit a brick wall, because instead of talking further, reaches for your notebook and scribbles the words onto the page with you. You can tell that the conversation is over, and that in true Historia fashion, she’s so stubborn she won’t touch it again. 

Wwith your permission, she rips the page out of the spine. The look she spares you over her shoulder before walking out of the room is haunting. 

--

Eren pops his head into your room an hour later. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Eren asks. 

“Can you stop asking me that?” you retort back. 

“My response is contingent on your answer.” Eren

“Yes. I can do you a favor, Eren. What is it?” 

Eren smiles, holding his hand out to you, as he all but yanks you off of your bed. 

“It’s not really a favor. I just wanted you to come into my room. Gabi and Falco are trying their outfits on for the wedding.” Eren responds. 

You smile as you walk straight across into Eren’s room, to find Gabi and Falco sitting eagerly on the couch. There’s four big boxes in his room, freshly delivered from the courier, as you take the seat next to Eren on the bed. 

“Okay. Falco, this is yours. Gabi, you can change in Y/N’s room and Falco take the bathroom. And don’t rip anything or you’re both going to the wedding naked.” Eren instructs. 

You watch as the two of them burst out into a fit of giggles, before they shuffle into their respective rooms with the hangers stretched over their shoulders. You turn to Eren, tapping on your thighs, as you wait for them to come back. 

“Your dress is here, too. If you want to try it on.” Eren offers. 

“Oh! Yeah, maybe I will. Are you going to try yours?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I might.” Eren responds. 

It’s swelteringly awkward. You have no idea what to say. 

“I…found the song I wrote about Mikasa. Nico and Armin put together a backtrack for me so I’ll send it to you.” 

You watch as Eren’s eyes light up. 

“Thank you so much! I really hope she likes it.” 

“She will. You know how sentimental she is, I-I think she’s really going to love it.” you respond. 

“Speaking of. What are you getting Jean? I am morally obligated to hang you at the stake like it’s the Salem witch trials if it’s something bad.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I actually need your help with my gift for Jean.” you state. 

Eren dramatically places his hands on his chest. 

“It’s your lucky day, Y/N! I live to serve. Especially when it’s you.” 

“When did you get so theatrical? Are you on something?” you state, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Not only am I extremely helpful, but I’m really generous too. I’ll give you some of my fix.” Eren responds, returning the energy back in full flesh. 

“Not me getting the princess treatment! What did I do to deserve this?” 

Eren shoves you in the side. 

“Shut up. What do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 

“Well…” 

It’s right at that moment that you hear Falco and Gabi’s giggly voices again, as they both run into the room. You immediately press your hands to your cheeks and nearly squeal at how cute they both look – and specifically melt at Falco’s bowtie matching Gabi’s dress. 

Seeing Falco wear suits is less cute than it was when he was a kid. Only because he looks like a full grown person, instead of being a sweet little kid, and it makes your heart hurt at how big he’s getting. 

You know that Falco can tell what you’re thinking and he preemptively complains about it. 

“Y/N. Quit looking at me like that. You’re embarrassing me.” Falco states. 

“Do you remember when you threw up on me in first grade? Don’t talk to me about being  embarrassing.” you scold. 

Eren shakes you off, before gesturing for Falco to walk closer to him. Eren’s readjusting the collar against the coat, tightening the tie, before he gets up and rummages around in his drawers. 

“Okay, Falco. I’m going to let you borrow my cuff-links for the wedding, but you have to promise to take really good care of them, okay? These are really special to me.”  Eren states. 

“Really, Eren? You’re going to let me wear them?” 

Eren reaches forward to lightly mess with Falco’s hair, before he hands him the box. Falco sticks his hand out as Eren secures them on for him, before offering him a smile. Falco’s sheer excitement makes your heart flutter – and melt that Eren so freely offered something of his own – as Falco excitedly shows them to Gabi at his side. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” you whisper. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Of course, I did. It’s Falco.” Eren responds. 

Eren turns back to the two of them, watching the excitement on his face, as they thank him profusely. 

“What’s special about the cuff-links, Eren?” Gabi asks. 

“I wore them at one of my first award shows where I won something for Attack on Titan.” Eren states. 

Gabi curls her nose in disgust. 

“Eren. You hate award shows. You don’t even care about awards!” Gabi complains. 

“You’re right. I don’t. But, it was a pretty memorable one for me. Got my first tattoo, performed with Y/N for the first time.” 

You turn to him, as he gives you a knowing smile, and you shake your head. And he has the nerve to call Mikasa over-sentimental. 

“Wait, Gabi. I have something for you too.” 

Eren watches as you quickly rush to your room, noting that you must really be rummaging through things in your dresser since he can hear you drop things and shout in pain, before you run back with a little blue box in your hands. 

You hold it open for Gabi, as she admires the little earrings. 

“Do you like them?” you ask. 

“I love them, Y/N.” 

“You can wear them at the wedding. Here, I’ll put them on for you.” 

Gabi excitedly pushes her hair back, as you watch Falco with his lovesick eyes as he observes you fixing them. You tuck her hair behind her ears as you admire her dress in full, squeezing her wrists. 

“You look beautiful, Gabi. They’re perfect.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I love you so much.” 

You can’t help but frown as she presses herself into your arms, returning her warm embrace in full. You look over at Eren, who wraps his arm around Falco and smiles at you. 

“Gabi! You’re going to be the prettiest girl at the party. You should have at least given Mikasa a fighting chance.” Eren jokes, as you watch Gabi shake her head and blush at the compliment. 

“You’re corny, Eren.” Gabi responds. 

“Do you have a date to the party, Gabi? It would make my night if the prettiest girl at the party walked in with me.” 

Eren’s so sweet. It reminds you of how Levi used to be with Sasha. 

“Sorry, Eren! You snooze, you lose. Falco already asked me.” Gabi responds, linking in her arm with Falco’s. 

Eren clutches his hands to his chest, giving the two of them a dramatic display of hurt, before he puts his hand on Falco’s shoulder. 

“Fair enough. You’re a very worthy opponent, Falco. Make sure you put the cuff links and the earrings back in the box nicely. And again, if you rip your clothes, you are going to the wedding naked.” Eren states. 

It’s an innocent thought that crosses your mind. That Eren would be a really good dad, when it came to it. 

The two of them wrap their arms around you again before they run out of the room again and Eren turns to you, narrowing his eyes. 

“You’re a copycat. You only got the earrings idea from me.” 

“You’re just bitter because she gave me a bigger reaction than Falco gave you.” you bite back. 

Eren shakes his head, as he starts shuffling through the tagged clothes and looking for your dress. 

“Have to ask. What’s so special about the earrings?” Eren states. 

You smile. 

“I wore them to Levi and Hange’s vow renewal.” 

It was the first time you and Eren said that you loved each other.  Eren turns back, giving you a soft smile. 

“You’re a sap.” Eren responds. 

“Takes one to know one.” you respond. 

Eren places the dress at your side. You eye the silver beading through the little zipper, admiring Mikasa’s cursive handwriting on the little label. 

“So what do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 

“Oh. Well.” 

You tap the open spot next to you. 

“When we were going to the awards show, Jean told me something. I had asked him back then if he was delaying his wedding because you and I were fighting. He said that it wasn’t just that, but it was because…he wanted you as his best man and he was having a hard time letting go of that thought when it was how he always imagined his wedding.” 

Eren nods. You figured Jean had told him as much. 

“He said that he’s always imagined his wedding the same way. That Mikasa would have long hair, a short train but a long veil. That you would be the best man and I would be the maid of honor. And that we’d sing a song for them, one that we wrote together for their first dance.” you state. 

Eren smiles. 

“Fuck. Your gift is way better than mine.” 

You laugh. 

“Is not.” 

“You’re giving Jean his dream wedding. I’m giving Mikasa America’s Funniest Home Videos.” 

“She loves that show!” you defend. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you write the song.” 

--

Levi attempts to ban Connie from coming to set the day you’re filming the kiss scene. Naturally, Connie decides to sneak in by dressing up as one of the crew members, before he’s dragged out by the ear when Hange catches him. 

You count yourself lucky that Hange and Levi had thought ahead and made sure that the cabin scenes were the last ones that you filmed for the show. Dead last – meaning everyone would have already been gone by the time you and Eren actually prepared to film them. 

It was enough consolation that you’d be alone with Eren in the last few days, before it was all really over. Similar to the way it really started, just the two of you in the townhouse.  

Eren’s sitting high in the makeup chair, lazily reading through the lines of the script, as the artists paint deep red lines into the sides of his cheeks. You give him a halfhearted wave as you take a seat a few feet away, cracking all your knuckles in nervous anticipation as they start powdering your face. 

Levi and Hange walk over, hands on their hips, as they look over to the two of you for weary eyes.

“Are you ready?” Levi asks. 

You give him a nod, Eren shooting two thumbs up to them, as they both squint their eyes. They don’t believe you.  

“Just one kiss. It’s not a big deal – you’re both grown adults. And you’ve done it before! So it’s not awkward. If anything, it’s like a peck. Just a quick one and you’ll be good, Y/N.” Hange adds. 

Eren glares at Hange.

“If it’s not awkward, why are you being weird about it?” Eren deadpans. 

Hange deflates. 

“Right then. Well, legs up in five!” Hange responds, before shuffling off to the other side of the room with Levi. You can hear the two of the murmuring under their breaths, rolling your eyes at how utterly disbelieving the two of them were of you. 

You turn to Eren, the two of you giving each other a shared annoyed look, before you turn back and focus on the scene at hand. You watch as the entire crew tasks themselves with testing the lights, pulling the cameras into view, and scribbling quickly on the clapperboard. 

It’s fairly simple. You just have to stand there and kiss him. No lines, no big confession – just one kiss.  

The cast stages you and Eren – bustling hands fixing the lapels of your clothes, the stray strands of your hair as you and Eren look at each other. 

“Hey.” 

Eren smiles. He seems fairly calm, considering things. You on the other hand, you can’t help but feel that bubbling ball of anxiety pulsating in your stomach. 

“Hi Y/N. How are you today?” 

“I’m good. Good, good. You?” you respond. 

“Great.” Eren responds. 

You shove your hands into your pockets, wiping the accumulating sweat on the inside of the pants, when you feel the little plastic box in your pocket. 

“I have something for you actually.” you add. 

You pull the box of Tic-Tacs out of your pocket, before holding them out in front of Eren. He gives you a hearty laugh, before cupping his hands and holding them out to you and you pour three in his hand, before downing your own. 

“That was very self-preservationist of you. But, I’ll have you know that I didn’t eat anything all day just to avoid this type of issue.” 

You snort. 

“No way.” 

“They had pizza for lunch. God forbid I taste like marinara sauce when you kiss me. I’m not a dog.” Eren responds. 

“I’ll admit. I did eat the pizza, but then I vigorously brushed my teeth for like five minutes.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, placing his hands on his cheeks. 

“All for me? I’m flattered, Y/N.” 

You smile. 

“Okay. So, like…do we need a gameplan? Do I lean towards the right? The left? Do you have a preference? Because I can –” 

You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, as he looks at you like you’ve grown another head. 

You can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. You glare at him, huffing as you cross your hands over your chest. 

“What?” you seethe. 

“Are you…staging a kiss right now?” 

“Just so we’re on the same page! You know, I don’t want to just lunge at you and catch you off guard.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, before reaching forward and placing one of his hands on your neck. He uses his thumb to rub into the softness of your cheek, before narrowing his eyes at you. You can tell what he’s trying to say. 

Relax. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll just do what feels right. Sorry for being weird.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs. 

“S’not weird. I just think you’re overthinking it. We’ve done it hundreds of times. It’s on your move anyways, so you’re in control.” Eren responds. 

“You guys ready?” 

You and Eren look over at Levi and Hange, their legs crossed in the director’s chair, as you give them a nod. You turn back to Eren, who gives you a mini-salute, as you back up a few steps and shake your hands at your sides. 

“Alright, Y/N, we’re rolling. On your move.” Levi calls. 

It’s like your feet are cemented into the ground. You can feel the unease that had been pooling in your stomach all day wash over you as you become acutely aware of how thick and warm the air is. It’s almost like it’s weighing down on you – hanging heavy on your skin, nearly throwing you off balance. 

You try to shake the feeling off, shutting your eyes before cracking each of the knuckles in your fingers. You can see it out of your peripheral vision, Levi shifting his head to the side to look at Hange, and the embarrassment bubbles in your throat. 

“I’m good. I just need a second, sorry.” 

Levi shakes his head. 

“Take your time. Whatever feels right.” Levi responds, giving you a comforting enough smile. 

It’s just a kiss. You’ve done it hundreds of times. 

The walk towards him, though it’s only two or three steps, is excruciatingly long. The clothes are too starched, too constricting, as you reach forward, and press your hands to Eren’s cheeks. The makeup pressed to his skin comes off on your hand, as you tilt his head up – slotting your lips against his. 

Eren’s quick with it. His lips quickly glide over yours, the familiar taste of the mint you had just offered him lingering, as he lifts his hands too, pulling your face closer to his. 

Eren can feel it – your entire body freezing against his, like the first time he had ever kissed you. The urge to swoop in and fix it, even though you’re the one who was supposed to take the lead is too overwhelming. 

He knows it’ll crush you if you don’t do it right. 

(And maybe Eren’s a little selfish.)

You can feel the blood rushing to your head, as Eren brings his hands up – one hand cupping your cheek and the other one slithering around your back to pull you closer. You nearly gasp into his mouth as he leans forward this time, the softness of his hands making you melt in his hands. 

It’s Eren. Tender, soft, and intoxicating. You don’t want to stop. You return the kiss in full this time, properly leaning forward and giving it back. 

But Eren’s the one who pulls away, resting his head against your forehead, as he lightly squeezes at your neck, where his hands are resting. You’re both panting in tandem, eyes still pinched shut and foreheads pressed together, as you swallow hard and try to catch your breath. 

“Hey guys. Quick note for you.” 

You both flinch at the sound of Hange’s voice in your ears, awkwardly taking a step away from each other, as a different embarrassment washes over you. You avert your eyes from Eren and look at Hange, who shoots you a weird look before focusing back on Eren. 

“Hm? What, Hange?” Eren mumbles. You can see him out of your peripheral vision – lifting his fingers and pressing them to his lips, a slight shake in his hand. 

“Eren, honey. She just decapitated you. Like, cut your head off. You are dead.” Hange clarifies. 

“Right?” Eren hums. 

“So, you can’t use your hands to kiss her. You don’t have hands anymore! And…and that was way too lively for someone who is supposed to be dead. Tone down the excitement a little.” Hange responds before shuffling off, as Eren’s cheeks go bright pink. 

Eren turns back to you, giving you a sheepish smile, as you shake your head. 

There was no need to be embarrassed. Not when you were the one who led wrong and he was trying to fix it. 

Not when you enjoyed that way more than you should have. 

Eren watches as you march back to your spot, shaking your hands at your side, as you fix your hair. Eren turns back to look at Hange and feels the humiliation increase when they mouth something that looks an awful lot like touch starved. 

Eren throws the thought out of his mind as he leans back again, tucking his hands behind his back. The situation is less than ideal, with his eyes closed – because Eren doesn’t really clock that you’re kissing him until you’re actually doing it. 

It’s your sweet hands cradling his face and then the warmth against his lips – before he can feel himself sinking into your embrace.

You can tell that Eren’s more apprehensive this time, as you flutter your eyes shut and lightly bump your nose against his on accident. You pull him up closer to you, scanning his face and smiling, before you lean forward and rub into the skin on his cheek. You can’t help but smile as you lean forward, the anticipation palpable as you press your lips to his. 

Eren can still feel his heart thrumming, at the way you’re so carefully holding him like glass, while making him feel like his body was on fire. He’s caught off guard when he feels your tongue against his, unable to contain his smile. 

You pull back, your lips burning and skin humming, as Eren looks at you, with a soft smile on his face. You give his cheek a little pinch, which he responds to by giving you a wink, before Levi walks over – his hands crossed over his chest. 

Eren groans. 

“What did I do now?” 

“Not you, Eren. Y/N. Well, you too, but she started it. Y/N, you just murdered the love of your life. LIke fully, had to be the one to murder him even though you didn’t want to because you were the only one strong enough to do it.” 

“Right.” 

“Could you not…smile into the kiss? You have no reason to be smiling.”

You cringe. 

“Right! Right, so sorry, Levi. Won’t happen again.” 

“Okay, because. You smile and then he smiles because you did. And again, just for extreme clarification, he is dead. This is supposed to be sad.” 

Levi rolls his eyes, as he shuffles back to the chair. You spare him a glance while Eren isn’t looking and he mouths something that looks an awful lot like the word freak. You shake him off, as you turn back to Eren, giving him a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry.” you offer. 

“Not a problem. I love it when you smile.” Eren responds, running his fingers over his lips again before he drops them. 

You can feel your head spinning. 

“Okay. Last one.” you clarify. 

“Third time’s a charm, princess.” Eren responds. 

You walk back to the spot, before you wait for Levi to give you the cue. And this time, walk forward as slowly as you can and repeat it to yourself. No hands, no smiling, no tongue.  

You reach forward, placing your hands around his neck, and lean forward. You slide your lips over his, circling your fingers into his neck to ground yourself into the touch rather than his intoxicating smell, as you kiss him. It’s overwhelmingly tender this time – the way you linger over him, before you pull back and let go. 

But the second you pull apart, it’s an immediate pang in your chest. It felt too final. 

“That was great guys! That’s the one.” Hange responds, as you look over and give them a smile. 

You awkwardly drop your hands, letting go of Eren, as he offers you a polite smile in response, holding out his hand to give you a high-five. You oblige, slapping your hand into his, though you can’t help but notice that the smile he gave barely reached his eyes. 

--

On your way out, you can feel the steaming that was pooling under your skin fizzle out as you walk out into the cold air, as you start marching on the pavement back to the townhouse. You prepare yourself for the unnecessary barrage of questions, and for how irritating Connie can be, as you push into the foyer. 

When you walk into the main room, it’s unexpectedly quieter than you thought it was going to be, the faint sound of the piano getting louder as you walk closer. And when you push into the room, the quiet warmth that was blooming under your skin is replaced with an ice cold pinch when you catch sight of what’s happening. 

Historia’s playing the piano, for the group of them. 

Mikasa looks up at you immediately, giving you wide eyes, as you press your hands to your temples, and look to your left. Jean and Connie give you the same look, the group of you all sweltering in the awkwardness, as you avert your gaze back to Historia. 

You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse

Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems

Eren walks in right behind you, nearly bumping into you, as you press your hand to his forearm and squeeze hard. 

“Wha-” 

“Be quiet!” you whisper. 

Eren gives you a puzzled look, as you watch his eyes scan around the room, and watch the realization register in his face. He looks down at you, giving you an awkward look, as you shake your head. The two of you avert your gaze to the left again, to find Sofia crying with one of her hands pressed to her chest. 

How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show I never was ready, so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride What a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said But you'll find the real thing instead She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

Watching Ymir is like watching someone get sucker punched in the face in real time. It reminds you of the same reaction that Eren gave you the other day, while you were filming, a visceral physical reaction. You watch as Ymir stumbles back, nearly loses her balance, as the tears start collecting in her eyes. 

And even worse, watch as Sofia tries to reach for her but Ymir pushes her away. 

And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket Her picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

You won't remember all my Champagne problems

The second she stops playing, Ymir runs up the stairs – her feet leaving a pounding sound before the door slams shut. And you watch as Sofia takes a deep and heavy breath, before running out the front door. 

--

You find Sofia two hours later, a block and a half away from the townhouse, on a bench. You reach down, picking up her bike off of where it’s toppled on the concrete, and rest it against the edge of the armrest, before taking the seat next to her. 

Sofia doesn’t hesitate to talk – like almost half of the people you know. 

“Is Ymir okay?” she asks. 

You shake your head. 

“Last I know, Eren and Mikasa went to talk to her. I’m sure they talked her down.” you respond. 

Sofia gives you a nod, inhaling shakily, as she hikes her knees to her chest. You can barely see her face – the hood pulled over her head obscuring her face – as she presses her cheeks into her knees. 

“I didn’t think she was going to sing it. I’m really sorry, I –” 

“Did you know that Historia asked Ymir to get back together with her yesterday?” 

You deflate. 

“Yes. She told me right before I went to film with Eren.” you respond. 

Sofia doesn’t respond. It’s chilling – to see someone you’ve only seen smiling for the past week and a half so defeated in one fell swoop. And even more than that, knowing how small it can feel to be competing with things that feel larger than life, in an entire world that you don’t feel like you’re a part of. 

“Ymir said no. I know she really loves you.” you offer. 

“I know she did. She came and told me right after it happened. She walked in all hot and heavy, nearly red in the face, pissed at the audacity Historia had to say that.” Sofia states. 

She pulls her hood back, resting her head against the back of the bench, as she flutters her eyes shut. 

“There’s nothing that…that gets Ymir moving like Historia. Whether she’s mad…or happy…or sad, no one can make Ymir feel as much as Historia does. If Historia and her have a good talk about how they’re always going to be important to each other, she’s on top of the fucking world. If she gets on her hands and knees and begs for her back, it’s enough to send her into a blind rage. And if she sings a song about how she got away…it’s enough to send her sobbing into her room.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I feel like I’m intruding on people who are meant to be. I don’t think I should be here.” she adds, her voice cracking. 

You shake your head.

“Ymir really loves you, I-I can just tell by the way that she looks at you. It would kill her if you left, Sofia.” 

She shrugs. 

“I know I’m never going to be Historia. And I know that first loves and…and sexual awakenings or whatever are sacred to people, but…I can’t sit here when I’m not even a part of the competition. I’m smart enough to know when two people still care about each other more than they should. I feel like I’m committing a fucking crime by keeping them apart.” Sofia responds. 

You bite down into the hardness of your cheek, before leaning your head against her shoulder. She welcomes the touch, leaning her own against yours before you break the silence. 

“I don’t necessarily think you’re wrong. There isn’t anyone that gets Ymir going like Historia. But that doesn’t mean that they’re right for each other. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t Ymir’s perfect match.” you respond. 

You shift. 

“Just because Ymir gets to these big…big emotions with Historia doesn’t make her better than you. In fact, I think that’s the leg that you have up on her. Why you’re the one who is marrying Ymir and not her.” 

“Really?” she whispers. 

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with Jean and Mikasa’s situation but –” 

“I know. Jean slept over at our house once when they were fighting. We ate ice cream together at three in the morning and talked till the sun rose.” 

You smile. 

“Jean told me that there’s lots of different types of love that you have in your life. And I just think that there’s one person…or one situation that deeply cuts into you, so hard that it changes you. I think that’s what Historia is for Ymir. Because to her, it must have been devastating that she would have done anything, that she could have changed herself any type of way, and she still wouldn’t be enough for her. I think that would get anyone moving, being reminded of the deep hurt, the complicated feelings that come with that person.” you respond. 

You feel your phone buzz, as you look at the little screen. 

[eren]: did you find her?  [eren]: ymir wants to see her.  [eren]: really badly. 

You respond back, before turning back to her. You have to turn this around for Ymir. 

“The big feelings aren’t the ones you chase after, Sofia. They fizzle out eventually, when the spark is gone. You pick based on comfort, on consistency. And Historia’s never…been consistent. She could never give Ymir what she wanted like you could. Like you do.” 

Sofia gives you a halfhearted smile. 

“You’re really sweet, Y/N. I really like you.” 

You smile, your chest panging with hurt. 

“I really like you too, Sofia. I hope you know that Historia didn’t do any of that to hurt you. She just…feels first, thinks second. It’s how she’s always been. And it’s not fair to you, but…but I hope you know it’s not personal. Or anything about you.” 

Sofia puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Thanks.” 

You can tell that she’s ruminating over your words and the two of you sit there quietly, dangling your legs over the side of the bench, as you wait for Ymir. Your stomach rumbles loudly, as you shoot her an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry. I didn’t take my lunch after Eren and I were done filming.” 

Sofia’s eyes light up, through the redness and puffiness. 

“Didn’t you kiss?” 

You groan. You only oblige the conversation because you know she means well. 

“Yes. We kissed.” 

“Was it hot?” Sofia asks. 

You snort. 

“Um…kind of. I accidentally used my tongue the second time.” 

Sofia gasps, excitedly pressing her hands to her chest as she leans forward. 

“The second time? Meaning you did it more than once?” you ask. 

You bury your face in your hands. 

“Three times. He…he got too into it the first time. Then I got too into it the second time. It’s supposed to be a really sad scene but –”  

“But you guys are horny, I get it.” Sofia finishes. 

“We’re not–” 

“Ymir says you guys eye fuck each other. I thought she was being kind of crude, but you really do.” 

You groan. 

“Sofia–” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You guys are actually really cute and I hope you don’t think we’re all pressuring you. I just think it’s really neat the little things you guys do for each other. Connie was telling me about the mints that you got him before you kissed.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I was just kind of trying to break the ice so he was comfortable and stuff.” 

“No, I totally get what you mean. Okay, like. The first time Ymir and I went on a date, I was so ready to kiss her – I had been thinking about it all week. And before we got into the car, I ate an entire box of Altoids.” 

“An entire box? Doesn’t that get painful after a while?” 

“Listen, she’s like way out of my league. I had to impress her! Plus, it gets rid of that doubt in my head when I lean in and stuff.” 

“You wanted to impress her with minty breath?” 

“Okay, don’t question my methods. She’s my fianceé now. After we kissed and I went home,  Ymir told me that she really enjoyed it. So every time I went to see her, I would eat another box just so that she would enjoy it again.” 

“You know that Ymir hates mints, right?” 

“Is this just common knowledge that everyone knew or something? I literally had no idea. Mikasa told me a month later and I was fucking furious. God, I never bought another pack again.” Sofia complains. 

“You didn’t? I thought you said it got rid of the doubt.” 

“Yeah but, why would I? She doesn’t like them. I got over it.” Sofia states. 

You pause, leaning your head back. You refuse to comment on it, because winning her over was Ymir’s battle. And you surely hoped Ymir would be able to do it, because this was, in fact, her perfect match. 

Who would give up trivial things for her, like kneeling on the ground or chugging mints, just because Ymir asked. Just because it would make her happier. 

“How did Connie know I gave Eren the mints? Hange kicked him out.” you state. 

“Oh. He climbed onto the roof. That kiss was really important to him and Mikasa.” Sofia states. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Of course it was.” 

You scoff, before shaking your head. It’s enough to make her laugh through her tears. And surely enough, Ymir and Eren appear after twenty minutes – out of breath and panting. You take the cue and jump off the bench, reaching for Eren’s outstretched hand, as the two of you quietly walk back to the townhouse and leave them to it. 

“They’ll be fine.” Eren murmurs, trying to pull you into walking the other way. He’s trying to reassure you. 

You look up at him and smile. 

“Yeah, I’m sure they will be.”

--

Jean and Mikasa don’t do bachelor or bachelorette parties. Early on, Eren had clocked that something like that, a party celebrating them get married without the other present, wasn’t something that wouldn’t even be remotely fun to them. 

But you still had to do something. Which is why Eren settled for throwing the two of them a laid back party after filming at the end of the week, with enough alcohol for them to get drunk to their hearts desire. 

“Sometimes I have genuine concern for how their livers are still functioning.” Eren states. 

You avert your gaze from Gabi and Falco – who are sitting in the corner playing a very intense game of cards together and giggling – to Jean and Mikasa, who are very drunkenly dancing with Niccolo and Sasha, who unfortunately got roped into it. 

“Tell me about it.” you respond. 

You can’t help but smile as Niccolo takes turns spinning Mikasa around, as Sasha and Jean attempt a very dangerous version of a dip, which results in Jean dropping her flat on the floor. Eren’s ready to jump up, but Armin gestures for him to keep sitting before jumping up. 

“Sometimes I think it’s sweet though. I think back to all those award shows and realize that they probably had a really great time together. Just dancing together, enjoying each other's company.” you respond. 

“Yeah. That first one we did though was really fun. I mean, Sukuna and the lollipop thing was like really fucking annoying. But besides that, I really liked that we were all just sitting together having a good time.” 

You snort. 

“Do you ever think about how…important moments seem after the fact? And that…sometimes you don’t really know how much something will mean later?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When we went to Seattle, I was talking with Lana. And I was telling her that Sukuna and I are nowhere near as close as you and her are. And she was telling me that Sukuna and I were like that. And that back then, when I met him, I was the one of the first people to kind of… understand that he was joking. To not immediately think bad of him or be weirded out by it, I guess.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs. 

“I guess. I mean, you showing up for my birthday dinner, it must have seemed to you that I was being so reserved when I left with Hyla. But that was the moment for me that I knew I wanted to be out of that thing, that kind of started everything.” Eren responds. 

You feel your cheeks heat up. And you’re sure that the four shots that Mikasa gave you earlier, the slight buzz in your veins, is what makes you say it. 

“This is one of them too. The important moments I’ll look back on.” you respond. 

You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, before he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck and smiles at the ground. 

“How so?” 

“All of this time that I get to spend with you. It’s up there, with everything else.” 

Eren reaches forward, linking his hand in with yours, before he squeezes three times. 

“Me too.” 

The two of you keep your hands that way, linked together and raised in the air, before the wind nearly gets knocked out of you by Jean leaning his entire weight on you. You can see that Mikasa is doing the same to Eren, hands tangled around his neck and nearly strangling him. 

“Did you guys know you’re the best maid of honor and best man ever?” Mikasa whines. 

Eren takes her hands, untangling them from cutting off his circulation, before letting her lean against his shoulder. You can see that he’s pleasantly surprised from the affection, wrapping his arm around her and leaning his head against hers as well. 

“Yes, Mikasa. We know.” Eren responds. 

“Stop being cocky, Eren.” Jean grumbles, as you turn your head to the side to smile at him. 

“Yeah, Eren.” you respond, emphasizing each syllable as he rolls his eyes. 

Eren shakes his head at the two of you, before looking down at Mikasa. 

“Are you ready for your gift, Mika?” Eren asks. 

“What? Really?” 

Eren gives her a nod as she nearly jumps up with excitement, teetering on the heels of her feet as Eren momentarily disappears to grab the little tape. Jean looks down at you, giving you a steely glare, as you roll your eyes. 

“What, Jean?”

“You are getting me a gift, right?” 

“Do you think I’m a nutjob? Obviously, I’m getting you a gift. You’re getting married.” 

“It better blow my fucking mind, Y/N. I have seriously high hopes after finding out what Eren got Mikasa.” 

You grin. 

“Trust me. It’s going to be everything you wanted and more.” 

Jean glares at you. 

“I don’t like your tone. If it’s a gag gift, you’re not meeting any of my children.” 

“They’re also Mikasa’s children. She’ll let me see them.” 

“No, I won’t let her.” 

“You don’t own the kids, Jean.” 

“The fuck do you mean? They’re my kids.” 

You elbow him in the sides. 

“These aren’t even real kids yet! Why are you getting territorial over people who don’t even exist yet?” 

Mikasa slings her arm around both of your shoulders, before squeezing the two of you way too hard under her grip. The two of you give each other wide eyes as she nearly cuts off your circulation and scolds both of you. 

“Why are you guys always so mean to each other? I thought you guys were getting along.” 

“We do get along!” Jean responds. 

“So along! We’re two peas in a pod!” you respond. 

Mikasa slightly loosens her grip as Eren walks up, twisting the little CD in his hand, as he eyes the three of you. She absentmindedly links her arm in with his and Jean, as Jean and Eren mimic their motions and loop you into the circle. 

There’s tears bubbling in her eyes, as you and Eren spare each other a glance, and prepare yourself for the waterworks that are going to follow. Mikasa was always an emotional drunk. 

“Thank you guys for planning such a good party for us. And for being really good friends to us.” Mikasa responds, voice cracking. 

You smile, cheeks nearly hurting, as you squeeze Eren and Jean’s arms. 

“Of course, Mikasa. You-” 

“We’re never going to be able to repay you both. I never forgot how many times you both took the fall for us back in the day whenever Levi got mad at us for switching our rooms around. And that you guys always did it whenever we asked.” 

Eren shakes his head. 

“I promise that we wanted to switch rooms just as badly as you guys did. Relax, Mikasa.” 

“I want you guys to be so happy. You guys are both such good people that it makes my heart hurt. You’re so, so perfect for each other.” 

You can feel Eren stiffen at your side as your cheeks heat up, the awkwardness sweltering in the air. 

“Thank you, Mikasa. That’s very sweet of you.” 

“I want my kids to be like ring bearers or flower girls at your wedding! I want our kids to be best friends like we were best friends and make those stupid videos like we used to do back in the day.” 

“Speaking of those videos, can I give you your gift now, Mikasa?” Eren asks. 

Mikasa lifts her hands, wiping the wetness off of her face, as she nods. Eren walks towards the TV, setting up the little video player, as you grab the group of them and signal them to join you around the couch to watch the video. 

The song starts playing, the soft little piano, of a song you had coincidentally written about Jean and Mikasa years prior. You and Jean had visited Mikasa on the set of one of her old films, Emma, and you had half heartedly scribbled some lyrics about it. You were able to find the old book in the back of your drawers and piece it together properly with Armin and Niccolo’s help. 

When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her

Eren pieced together the perfect videos. You’re positive that he’s stolen from all of Levi’s old tapes, as well as the dumb camera that the group of you all used in the early seasons. The clips are all of Jean and Mikasa – of such seemingly unimportant moments that nearly make your heart burst at the sight of the two of them now. 

There’s sprinkles of you and Eren in the videos, of the two of you recording them in the background holding hands when you were trying to catch their attention. And of Connie and Reiner just blowing kissy faces at them or Sasha and Bertholdt trying to imitate the two of them. 

Nearly everyone’s laughing at the clips – at how little Jean and Mikasa look at all of the clips – and Mikasa secures her hand in with yours. 

“Is that you singing? Did you write this song about me?” 

“Yeah. Way back when you filmed Emma.” 

You can see her face curl up in emotion, before she leans her head against your shoulder. She still has one of her hands wrapped in with Eren’s, stopping every few seconds to give him a really big smile that you can tell means the world to him. 

Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her Yeah, between me and you, sometimes I wish I was her

The clip ends with the group of you hugging, when you had finished wrapping season one. You remember the moment distinctly – the dread that came with it. Because you didn’t know if you were going to get a season two, if anyone was even going to like the show, or if you’d ever see any of them again. 

Armin initiates it first, by leaning forward over the couch and wrapping his arm around Eren and Mikasa. And then one by one, you’re all piling on each other – warm tears in your eyes as everyone ruffles Jean and Mikasa’s hair – the two of them pink in the face with their tears. 

You stand up to pop the CD out of the box as you watch Eren and Mikasa give each other a long hug, Eren responding warmly to the babbling mess coming out of her mouth. 

“Eren. Eren, I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Mikasa.” 

“This is perfect. This is so perfect, you’re one of my best friends ever, you know that?” 

Eren laughs, before placing both of his hands on her shoulders. 

“You’re one of my best friends too, Mikasa. Save one dance for me at the wedding, okay?” 

“Of course. Of course, of course we have to dance together. You can’t leave me hanging, Eren.” 

“This was my idea! And you’re the one who’s going to be so busy. Just don’t forget me.” 

You’re caught off guard from watching the two of them when you feel a tapping on your shoulder to find Ymir at your side. You give her a smile as you both lean against the wall. 

“Hey.” 

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You can say no.” Ymir states. 

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” 

“That was…a really sweet song you wrote about Mikasa. I’ve always really loved how you can feel the emotion in songs you write.” 

You smile. 

“Is there any way that you could write a song with me? About Sofia? Because, we’re good but I want her to know that she means the world to me. And she’s been a fan of yours for so long that I think that it would be something that was really special to her. And I know that things are complicated because of Historia and that you might have picked a side, but I’m just asking you for this as your friend and –” 

“I’m on your side too.” you state. 

“Hm?” 

“Historia is my friend. But you are too. And I want you and Sofia to be happy, I really like her and I really like you.” 

You watch as Ymir deflates. 

“Really?” 

“You’re meant to be together. I think that she can really love you in the way that you deserve.” 

Ymir leans forward, uncharacteristically affectionate, as she wraps her arms around you and squeezes your arms. 

“You’re a really good person, Y/N.” Ymir states. 

You laugh. 

“You must be as drunk as Mikasa.” 

“No, no I really mean it. You always have really good intentions at heart. I know that your whole lover girl branding must be…frustrating to look at after everything that happened. But that’s always who you’ve been, with all of us. It’s a really good part of you.” Ymir states. 

You smile. 

“You’re speaking really highly of me. All I did was say I was going to write a song with you, Ymir.” 

“I think you deserve really good things. People have given you way too much hurt than you deserve.” 

--

The following morning, you’re able to snag Armin to help you play Ymir’s song for Sofia. And surely enough, you can feel it radiating as you watch her face light up, the way she nearly beams at the two of you as you sing. 

You sit abandoned in the room, hours after Armin, Ymir, and Sofia trickle away. 

Only because it’s so overwhelming that it nearly suffocates you. The love in the room. 

Ymir and Sofia. Jean and Mikasa and Gabi and Falco. The way Eren and Armin have reconciled and how you always see Levi smiling at you from the back of the room when the group of you are messing around. 

You’re so full of it that you can barely breathe, so nervously anxious that it makes your stomach hurt. 

“You okay?” 

You look up to find Eren looking down at you. At the love in the room, staring at you so intently. 

“Yeah.” 

“I had a question.” 

You tap the open seat on the couch next to you, shuffling to the side, as he joins you. 

“Sure. What’s up?”

You watch as Eren leans forward on his knees, eyes trained on the ground as he cracks through each of the knuckles in his fingers. 

“You can say no. You don’t have to feel obligated to answer in any way because it was just an idea I had. I won’t be hurt if you don’t want to, or…or had other plans I don’t know about because you’re obviously entitled to that! And you know, it’s a harmless type of thing that I just wanted to –” 

“Eren.” 

He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Just ask.” you finish. 

“Will you be my date to the wedding?” Eren asks. 

You feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach as you smile at him, squeezing your hands into fists as you hold them close to your chest. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I want to go with you. We’re doing a song together and…and we’re all good. It would be nice to be together, like we did back when we wrote invisible string. That and I kind of need you to point out all the love in the room for me just so I can remember it all.” Eren responds. 

You smile. 

“Of course. We’ll take turns. I’ll point one out and then you.” 

Eren grins. 

“Deal.” 

You reach forward, placing your pointer finger against his chest. He looks down before looking back up at you, confused. 

“What?” he asks. 

“You just asked me to point out the love in the room.” 

You watch as Eren leans his head back, unable to contain his smile, as he shoves your hand away and mimics the motion by pointing back.

--

next chapter linked here

an: anyways ymir requests a song about her relationship with historia later on and they write you're losing me. and yes, you're losing me and champagne problems end up being about the same relationship. also historia being so jo march coded by saying she would accept ymir's proposal now that she's actually with someone else and can't have her....anyways jeankasa wedding oh we cried

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[naughtyneganjdm]

Lost & Found - Chapter 2

Summary: Once Negan gets better, he tries to teach Mia to fend for herself so she can take care of herself when he leaves, but Negan finds himself more attached to this girl than he expected to be.

Characters: Negan, Mia, Y/N (reader/OC), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53376820/chapters/135146467

Warnings: Swearing, Gore, a child gets hurt, Severe Angst, etc.

Notes: I was going to wait to post this, but since it's already done and the reason I didn't post it all at once because I thought it may have been too long is why I'm just posting it today. I know it won't get the hits because it's not smutty, but that's okay. I wrote this all in one night a few weeks ago. (Chapter 1)

“Would you knock it off,” Negan looked back over his shoulder to see that Mia was standing in the middle of the woods with her head tipped back and her hands thrown up in the air. With the rays of sun shining through the trees, she was enjoying the way it felt over her flesh. “You’re being weird again.”

“I’m sorry man, it’s just been a long time since I got to be outside this long,” she informed him, her long eyelashes fluttering when she turned her head to stare out at Negan with a big cheesy smile. “It feels nice to get the sun on my skin.”

“You have to listen to me,” Negan snapped his fingers to get her attention hearing her huff loudly. “You’re never going to survive if you can’t focus.”

“I’m focusing! I listened to you when you explained to me how to dress a wound. Which I obviously knew by the way since your ribs. I helped you move the bush and the branches over the gates to hide the fence. I listened to your long ass description of each and every gun,” she listed off the things they had already done together, “So please excuse me if I take a moment to enjoy the warmth on my skin after being locked away inside of a house for so long.”

“Mia, I’m leaving tomorrow,” Negan reminded her of what was happening. Over the last few days Mia had been taking care of him and nursing him back to health. Today was the first day he actually had the strength to get up and move around. “If you don’t pay attention now, you are never going to make it. You have to find your own food and be able to survive.”

“Okay! Okay! I’m listening boss,” she lowered down into the same position that Negan was in noticing that he was pointing to the footprints that were in the grass.

“You have to be able to track and be quiet,” Negan motioned her to follow him to track the deer that they had been for a while now. When they made it to the bush, he motioned her to be quiet and reached for the bow to give it to her. Pointing out in the distance to where the deer was, he saw her face turn pale at the idea of actually killing the animal. Motioning her to use the bow the way he taught her earlier had her expression changing and he could tell she didn’t want to do it. “I know you’ve never done this before, but it’s the only way to survive.”

With a frown, she did what Negan had shown her earlier in the day with the bow and arrow. When it hit the deer and it let out a pained sound, Negan reached out to pat her on the shoulder, “Good job. We’ll have a good meal tonight because of you.”

“I just feel like a horrible person doing this Negan,” Mia stated when Negan moved up on the deer with his knife and she had to look away when Negan finished the deer off. A gagging sound fell from her throat when Negan looked back at her with his hands bloody. “I hate killing something else…”

“It’s the only way you live,” Negan reminded her hearing the sound of something moving in the bushes and he pulled his handgun out, stepping before Mia to keep her behind him when he saw three men approaching them. “Back off.”

“Hey, we don’t mean any harm,” the man in the center explained, his features softening when he looked beyond Negan to see that Mia was with him. “We just didn’t know someone else was out here hunting. We didn’t mean to scare you and your daughter.”

“I’m not his daughter,” she spoke up, her face scrunching when the man that was speaking gazed over her. Negan hushed her and tried to push Mia back behind him to keep her safe. Hearing someone else refer to her as his daughter out loud made even him uncomfortable. “What?”

“She’s not your daughter? With the same eye color, the dark hair and the dimples?” the man inquired drawing Negan’s lips to part, getting distracted in that moment to look back at Mia. Clearing his throat, Negan noticed the way that the sun hit in her hazel eyes and he felt a breath catch in his throat. “I’m sorry young lady. I just thought this was your daddy.”

“My dad died,” she responded once more and immediately Negan cut her off.

“The deer is ours,” Negan informed them, his thick eyebrows bouncing up.

“Do you have a place around here somewhere?” the stranger questioned, but Negan remained quiet. “If you’re looking for a group to join, we have a campsite about a mile or so away. If it’s just the two of you, it might be easier if you join us.”

“We’re good. We’re not alone and our group is waiting for us,” Negan lied, keeping his gun up like he had taught Mia days earlier. “The three of you can move along now. We’re fucking good.”

The three strangers stayed where they were and Negan clicked something on the gun drawing the stranger in the middle to throw his hands up, “Listen fucker, if you don’t leave, I’m going to put a bullet right between your eyes and then your friends. So I suggest you get the fuck out of here.”

“Like I said, we didn’t want any trouble,” the stranger hit the chest of the other two he was with before nodding in another direction. “We will get on our way.”

“Better do that,” Negan waited for them to leave, never lowering his gun until he knew they were far out in the distance. Swiftly moving down, Negan grabbed the deer the best he could and threw it up over his shoulders. Motioning Mia to stay close to him, he walked around in circles for a while and out of the way to make sure that people weren’t following them. Just in case they might be tracking the two of them, he hoped by doing what they were, the strangers would get lost.

“What are we doing?” Mia questioned when she even picked up on Negan acting strange. “This isn’t…”

“Quiet,” Negan hushed her with a hiss before finally leading them back to the cabin. Once they got there, Negan did his best to hide everything and dragged the deer into the kitchen. Dropping the deer on the counter, he heard Mia let out a disgusted breath when the blood splattered. Starting to pace back and forth in the kitchen had Mia’s eyes locked on him, confused. “Fucking hell.”

“What is it?” Mia didn’t understand what was going on and he gave her a glare.

“You are going to fucking die Mia!” Negan claimed with tension flooding his veins.

“What?” she gave him a surprised expression when Negan threw his bloody hands up in the air. “Why?”

“You don’t give strangers personal information!” Negan snapped at her, his face twisting with anger when she looked up at him with her big hazel eyes. “People aren’t nice anymore Mia! They are more dangerous than the walkers and you are able to wind up dead in those kind of situations.”

“You were a stranger,” she reminded Negan and he immediately shook his head.

“I’m not like everyone else Mia! You have to be cautious of everyone. You have to be prepared to kill anyone because they are going to do the same to you. They don’t care if you’re a kid,” Negan continued to lecture her seeing the color growing in her cheeks the further he yelled at her. “People will kill you or they will do something…much, much worse.”

“What’s worse than killing me?” she whispered, her eyebrows furrowing and Negan let out a growl of frustration. “I just don’t understand Negan.”

“People aren’t good Mia. That’s why I had to walk around like I was so they couldn’t follow our tracks,” Negan educated her on what he had done, his head shaking when he stared her down. “Men like that are dangerous. You’re a pure, sweet, little girl that they can take advantage of and hurt. Do you understand me?”

“Negan, I just…” she tried to reason with him since she hadn’t really felt like she did much wrong.

“Do you understand me?” Negan screamed at her causing her to lower her head.

“I understand,” she nodded, a lump growing in her throat while she tried to avoid getting upset with him screaming at her like he was.

“If you don’t listen to the things that I’ve been telling you, you’re going to die and then there will be nothing for your mother to come back to. Do you understand?” Negan snarled when he noticed the redness growing in her cheeks as she continued to avoid looking at him. Curling his finger underneath her chin, he forced her to look up at him and let out a shuddering breath. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” she responded with a firm nod trying to hold back on her emotions that she was having. Even though she was trying to put up a façade, Negan could tell that she was getting emotional. “I’ll pay attention and listen to everything that you have to say.”

“I’m going to show you how to deal with this deer. It’s very similar to how you would deal with any other animal. You don’t let things go to waste. Not anymore,” Negan started, leading her toward the counter while he started doing the process of what to do after you killed the deer. Even though she was uncomfortable, he made her do a lot of it with his help and instructions because he knew she would be left alone. Whenever it looked like she was going to get sick, Negan would take over and give her a break. At the corner of his eye, Negan could see that Mia was observing him closely. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Do you think that guy was right?” Mia brought up the men that they had run into and Negan stopped for a moment to look over at Mia. “Do you think you look like you’re my father?”

Hearing her ask him that question caused his heart to skip a beat. A breath caught in his throat and he immediately lowered his head to go back to work trying to avoid the question. It had been something that he considered several times since being here, but he didn’t want to bring it up to her.

“We do have the same color eyes. The dimples,” she pointed to her cheek when Negan gave her a quick look trying to avoid getting blood on his face. “Even the freckles on our shoulders.”

“Your father died, Mia,” Negan reminded her, his nose wrinkling when he tried to stay firm about everything. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but maybe my mom was lying like you said,” Mia suggested and Negan almost heard a hopefulness in her voice. “We have so much in common and I do look like I could be yours. We both love peanut butter…”

“Everyone loves peanut butter,” Negan corrected her with a grunt, shaking his head when she was considering this whole thing herself. In one hand he had a knife when he shrugged his shoulders and he noticed that he was dripping blood all over the floor. “You know, unless they are allergic or some shit.”

“You don’t think I look like I could be your daughter?” she wondered having him step back to stare out at her. The truth? Yeah. She looked very much like she could be his. He thought it from the first moment he saw her.

“I’m not your dad,” Negan shook his head, refusing to allow that thought to linger between either of them when he went back to work. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Some random woman gets pregnant with my baby fourteen years ago and just somehow, miraculously I find her in the middle of the woods in a cabin fourteen years later?”

“Weirder things have happened,” she went to try to help Negan when she noticed his hands were shaking and he lifted his hand to stop her. “So there is no way that you could be my father? You weren’t with anyone back then?”

“Mia, I can hardly remember what I did last week let alone fourteen years ago,” Negan reasoned with her, his Adam’s apple bouncing in this throat. “I’m not the only person in the world to have dark hair and hazel eyes.”

“Yeah, but the dimples and the freckles,” she reasoned with him, tugging at her shirt to reveal the freckles that were over her flesh. Stepping forward, she tugged at Negan’s shirt to look at the freckles that were on his shoulders and he pulled away from her with a huff. “Maybe it was the world’s way of…”

“You’re not my daughter!” Negan snapped at her, throwing his hands up in the air to have her stop talking. “I understand that you are probably feeling a certain way because your mother has been gone for so long. You’re looking for someone to cling onto, but I’m leaving tomorrow, Mia. Think about what the chances would have to be for that to happen. It’s impossible. And I have a family. A son that I have to get back to. He needs me.”

After Negan brought up Joshua to her, it made tears burn at her eyes and she nodded her head, “you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. My dad is dead.”

“Can we finish this please? I’d like to get some sleep tonight so I can start early,” Negan begged of her noticing her lifting her arm up to wipe at her eyes with an area of her arm that didn’t have blood on it. Without another word, she stepped forward to help Negan.

Most of the night she stayed quiet, even throughout dinner after they cooked. That was rare for Mia, but she talked. A lot. Just like him. Negan taught her how to preserve the meat and use other parts of the deer. When it was time to separate for the night, Negan went to the room he had been staying in. During the middle of the night, he heard movement in the hallway and he carefully got up to look through the small crack in the door. Mia was sitting on the stairs and she looked deep in contemplation, but also sad.

Considering talking to her, Negan realized it would only make things harder in the morning when he left so he just went back and crawled into bed. By morning, when he came out with the bag he had upstairs packed, he found her sitting on the couch and he wondered if she had been up all night.

Usually Mia never shut up. Yet she was speechless right now. Mia went to sit on the stairs again with nervous energy, but she still said nothing. With him packing the rest of the supplies that he would need that he was taking from what Mia had after their agreement, he could see that her face was red and she looked extremely upset.  

“Well kid,” Negan went to the bottom of the stairs with her hazel eyes lifting to meet his. “I guess this is it. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Yeah,” she moved down the stairs and held out the thing that she had in her hand. Seeing that it was a full jar of peanut butter made Negan’s eyebrows bounce up. “Here, you should have this since I know peanut butter is your favorite.”

“I already have enough,” Negan pat his backpack knowing that she had already given him supplies for his journey. When she held the jar out further toward him, he accepted the jar of peanut butter and gave her a small nod. “Thanks kid.”

“I hope you find them,” she whispered, a tremor falling from her throat as she tried to keep things together. Holding her hand up, she curled it into a fist and held it out to Negan. With a smirk, Negan fist bumped Mia and gave her a wink. “Goodbye Negan.”

“Goodbye Mia,” Negan motioned her to follow him outside so she could let him out of the gate. Before he left, he made sure to help her chain everything back up. “Make sure you cover everything once I leave,” Negan gave one more order noticing that she was having a hard time looking at him when he left. “I hope your mother comes back Mia.”

There was a single tear that was sliding down her face when Negan frowned and lowered his head. Maybe he should have said something more or done something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Pushing forward, he knew that he had to keep on and find his family. It was hard leaving a kid that he knew had nothing, but he had to. His family was out there waiting for him and he had been gone long enough.

For a while he walked and made some good distance. After some time, he started to hear footsteps following him and he would steal a look over his shoulder to try to see what it was. Keeping on, he heard the footsteps start to quickly come up on him. Turning on his heel, he brought his gun up only to come face to face with Mia who had been following him.

“Mia! What the hell are you doing?” Negan yelled at her, his heart pounding away inside of his chest. Mia had stumbled back when he had thrown the gun in her face out of surprise.  

“Do you think…do you think that maybe you could just stay until my mom comes back?” Mia requested causing Negan’s throat to tense up, a small rumble of a groan falling from his throat. “Please. I have so much to learn still and…I don’t want to be alone again Negan. I’ll give you all the medicine that I have if you do. Please.”

“I can’t,” Negan shook his head, clinging tightly to his bag drawing the color from her features to return. “I have a family of my own that I have to find and get back to. I can’t just wait with you until your mom finally comes back.”

“You’ve been away from them this long,” she reminded him causing his dimples to become more prominent with the anger that flooded his veins when she brought up how long they had been apart already. “Why not wait a couple more days? What difference would it make if you just stayed with me a few more days until my mother came back?”

“I owe you nothing Mia,” Negan reminded her, his eyebrows bouncing up and his head tipping to the side.

“I mean, I did save your life,” she pointed toward his ribs, her chest aching at the annoyed glance he gave her. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“And I paid you back plenty with my knowledge,” Negan insisted, throwing his hand up in her direction. “So don’t pull that shit on me.”

“Just a few more days,” Mia placed her hands together, her jaw clenching when she stepped forward toward Negan who pulled the cowboy hat he was wearing from his head. “And when she comes back, then you can just…”

“Your mom isn’t coming back Mia!” Negan interrupted her having a frown flood into her young features. “I hate to be the one to tell you this Mia, but your mom is dead. You know that I’m right. If your mom was alive, she would have come home a long time ago. Something obviously happened while she was out on a supplies run. I can’t stay waiting forever with you because I have a son and a wife to find. You can’t trap me into staying with you while waiting for your mother to return when we both know it’s never going to happen.”

“Just a day?” she tried to get him to agree to something, but he frowned and shook his head. “Please? My whole life I’ve felt like I was just some kind of mistake. It’s my biggest fear. It always was. That I was something my parents didn’t plan and I shouldn’t have been here in the first place. I felt like a waste of space Negan. Until you came along. I felt like maybe I wasn’t a mistake anymore. I saved you. I took care of you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Go home Mia,” Negan ordered, clutching to his bag and letting out a long sigh. It was breaking his heart hearing all of this, but there was nothing he could honestly do. “You’ve got a target on your back if you stay out here.”

“Negan?” she whispered his name with a whimper and he shook his head before continuing in the direction that he was headed all along.

It hurt leaving that girl all alone, but he had to or else he knew that he would never leave. There was no way that Mia was ever going to understand that her mother wasn’t coming home. He couldn’t get stuck in a child’s dream that was never going to happen so he had to make his way onward. For a while he walked until he came up on a small camp where a fire was burning. Swiftly making his way into the bush, he wanted to get by without being detected until he heard the sound of a radio being used.

“We found the girl from yesterday,” Negan stopped when he heard that and looked over his shoulder to see one of the men that he had ran into with Mia the day before. Biting down on his bottom lip, Negan squeezed his fist closed and lowered his head.

“Just keep going Negan,” he tried to coach himself, cussing under his breath.

“Did you find out where they were hiding?” the man stood from where he was sitting beside the fire and Negan lowered down. “Did you find the guy that she was with?”

“It was just her. She won’t talk,” the voice on the radio responded leaving Negan to lower his head. “I can’t get her to talk, so we’re bringing her back to the camp.”

“Good idea,” the stranger replied with a grumble, pacing in the small area that they were taking up in the woods. “I can think of a few ways to get her to talk. And if she doesn’t, I really don’t care. I’ll make good use of her.”

“Fuck,” Negan lowered his head into his hand. There were four people already at the camp and he had no idea how many were coming back. Cussing to himself, Negan thought about what he was supposed to be doing. Where he belonged. If he stayed behind to help this girl, he would likely get hurt again or die before he found his family again. “Come on Negan.”

Trying to stay close to the ground, Negan managed to get out of the area of the camp, keeping his head down. He couldn’t let a few days ruin the few years of planning that he had done. It was the sound of a gunshot going off that made him panic. Rushing back toward the camp, Negan carefully came up on it noticing that one of them he had just seen was lying face first in the dirt dead.

“Stop moving you little shit,” the original stranger they interacted with was screaming at Mia from where she was underneath him on the ground. Two of the others were holding her wrists down while she struggled. “You just killed one of my men, you can’t just expect me to let you go without punishment.”

“Get off of me you fucker,” Mia spat at the man and Negan could see that her face was bloody from whatever the men before had done to her. “I’ve got nothing to give you.”

“Where is your dad?” the man questioned, grabbing a firm hold of Mia’s face to get her to look up at him. One of Mia’s eyes were swollen and Negan felt his chest tightening when Mia said nothing. Reaching behind him, the stranger grabbed a hunting knife and held it to Mia’s throat hearing her whimper. “Where is your dad?”

“He’s not my dad,” she repeated what she had told the man the day before. A scoff followed and the stranger dug the tip of the knife further into her flesh. “He’s not my father!”

“Come on little girl. You look exactly like that guy and you expect me to believe you aren’t his kid,” the man half laughed drawing Mia to swallow down hard. “It be one thing if you weren’t a spitting image of him, but you are. You’re expecting me to believe that you aren’t a product of that man’s nutsack?”

“I’m not. Even if he was my dad, he’d want nothing to do with me,” Mia explained wincing when the tip of the blade cut at the side of her face. “He left me! He was just a stranger. Please.”

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t care, he’s not your daddy,” the man mocked her hearing her straining to get out from beneath him. “Where is all of your stuff? Your community?”

Instead of answering the man above her, Mia spit causing the blood from her mouth to spray in his face. With a laugh, the stranger shook his head and wiped at his eyes, “You don’t want to talk? Fine. I’ll find other things to do with you then…”

Going to reach for Mia, the man screamed out when she sank her teeth into his hand causing him to yelp. Trying to pull his hand back, the man couldn’t get her off him and when he finally did, his fist came crashing into her face.

Immediately reaching for his gun, Negan started firing it off hitting one of the men that was holding Mia down on the ground between the eyes. There was no more holding back, Negan needed to protect her now. Shooting the gun at the other one holding onto her wrist had the man rolling backwards and Negan felt his body being tackled by someone from behind. The gun fell from his hand, sliding a few feet away while he struggled with the weight that was over him. Bringing his elbow back over and over again, Negan managed to get the person that was there off before he reached for his hunting knife to bring it back to stab the person that was behind him in the throat.

Shoving the weight off of him, Negan swiftly got to his feet only to feel someone tackling into his ribs drawing him to hit the ground hard. That knocked the wind out of him, especially since he was still tender there from being injured. Over and over again fists hit him and he did his best to block the punches, but the person still got a few good hits in. When the man over him got tired, Negan managed to get a few powerful hits in before bringing his knife up to dig it into the center of the attacker’s chest. Pulling it down gutted the stranger that was over him, causing blood to pour down over Negan. Grunting out, the weight of the body fell in over him and Negan hissed shoving the weight off of him. Struggling for the gun that he had dropped, Negan scoffed when someone shot at the gun causing him to fall back. Gazing back over his shoulder, Negan saw there were two of them left. One was the main stranger that they had seen yesterday and Negan presumed he was the one in charge. He was the one with the gun and the second stranger was approaching Negan.

“I knew daddy wouldn’t be far away,” the man in charge muttered when Negan considered his next move. Noticing that there was a rock beside him, Negan waited until the man approaching was close. Sweeping his legs out, Negan locked his legs with the stranger causing him to stumble, hitting his head on the oversized rock leaving a large blood smear across it. Snatching his gun up from the ground, Negan held it up at the stranger in charge while keeping his knife in his opposite hand. It was then that Negan noticed the stranger had an unconscious Mia in his arms with his knife pressed to her throat and his gun pointed at Negan. “Don’t!”

“So you get your rocks off hurting little girls?” Negan questioned wiping the blood away from his bottom lip. “Is that your thing?”

“Drop your gun or I swear to God I will cut her throat,” the man screamed at Negan watching Negan toss his gun to the side and hold his hand up in the air. “You give me your group’s location and I will let you have her.”

“See, here is the thing,” Negan took a step closer hearing the nervous breath that fell from the stranger. It had him clinging tighter to Mia and Negan clung tightly to the knife in his hand. “You hit that little girl. There is no fucking way I’m going to keep you alive.”

“I said stop,” the man warned, shooting the gun off and hitting Negan in the arm with the bullet. A grunt fell from Negan’s throat when he looked to it and then back to the man. “I said stop!”

Rushing the man, two more shots went off, but a gurgling sound fell from the stranger’s throat when Negan managed to bring his hunting knife into the stranger’s belly before pulling up. Dropping backwards, the stranger released Mia who fell to the ground as well. Standing over the stranger, Negan looked to his own shoulder with a wince. One of those two shots hit him in the shoulder, but the second missed him completely.  

“Your aim is shit,” Negan reached for the gun that the stranger had used, his head tipping to the side. “Are you part of a bigger group?”

“Fuck you,” the man snarled and Negan pointed the gun down at the stranger’s groin. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“Fine,” Negan shot the stranger in the groin hearing him crying out in agony. “Are you the last one?”

“I’m the last one. Please…” the stranger begged holding up his hand for mercy when Negan moved further in over him. “It’s just me. It was only us.”

“You should have left the little girl alone,” Negan took one final shot, hitting the stranger right between the eyes. Dropping the gun on the man’s chest, Negan looked to Mia and frowned. Picking her up in his arms, Negan made sure to grab his things before carrying her back toward the cabin. It took longer since he was injured, but once he made it back, he carried her into the cabin first and laid her down on the mattress that she had previously pulled into the living room for him. Going back outside, he locked things up and hid the gate as best as he could before heading back inside. Getting some water to clean Mia up, Negan frowned while he took care of her hating that he let this happen. He wished she would have just stayed in the cabin like he asked.

After he was done cleaning her up, he could only really see that she had a swollen eye with a bloody nose and lip. Which she should have never had in the first place. Once he was sure that she was okay, he shakily pulled his shirt off and assessed the damage of his gunshot wounds. The one in the shoulder was a whole lot worse than the one that hit his arm. The one in the arm was a flesh wound, but the one in his shoulder was one that he would have to dig the bullet out of.

Shakily searching the medical supplies that Mia had, Negan did what he had to in order to get the bullet out of his body finding himself thankful that this guy had a shit shot enough that it didn’t hit anything major. It was hard to clean up the wounds but he did what he had to in order to make sure that he was safe.

Waiting in the chair that Mia had before when he was hurt, Negan stayed there until morning. Toward the middle of the night he had started to drift and he tried to fight it, but he couldn’t. When it was morning and she started to shift, Negan noticed her trying to lift her head up and he motioned her to stay when he moved to the bed beside her.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Negan,” he hushed her noticing the way that she seemed to calm down when she heard his voice. “You’re safe. I’m with you.”

Shakily her hand reached for his and he hooked his fingers with hers hearing her breathing uneasily, “I’m sorry I left. I’ll stay with you until your mother returns. Okay? I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

Mia said nothing, just gave a nod and lowered her head back to the bed weakly. Clearing his throat, Negan went to pull his hand away, but he felt her still clinging to it, “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Negan assured her lowering down beside the bed to allow her to keep holding onto his hand. “I’m right here.”

It didn’t take long for Mia to fall back asleep and he frowned looking her over. The thoughts about what the stranger said about her looking like him was running through his mind. They both had questioned in multiple times and he really did wonder if he was her father. Getting into the bed beside Mia, he laid at the other side watching her while she slept.

After a while he had fallen asleep as well and in the middle of the night woke up to see that Mia had cuddled up next to him much like he had described Joshua to her in the past. Clearing his throat, Negan lifted his head to see that her head was laying over his chest and he was thankful it was on the side that wasn’t hurt. Cautiously, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him so he could nestle his chin in over the top of her head. There was something about Mia that felt personal. And now he knew that he had to stay with her. There was no other way.

----

“Would you show your cards already?” Negan snickered from where he was sitting across the table from Mia who was staring out at her cards that were in her hand. It had been a month and a half since Negan had decided to stay with Mia and wait for her mother to return. Each day Negan could tell that her belief and hope that her mother would return was leaving her. But Negan did his best to keep her hope alive. “You take forever with this game. If I would have known you were incredibly slow, I would have never taught you poker.”

“Hold your horses old man. There is a lot at stake here,” she pointed toward the potato chips that they were playing with in order to do the game. Tossing the potato chips into the center to match his bet made Negan smirk and shake his head. Lowering down his cards, he showed her that he had a straight.

“Not so arrogant anymore, are you?” Negan stole one of the potato chips and she playfully swatted his hand away from the rest of them. Plopping one between his lips, Negan watched her lay down her cards to show that she had a full house. “Jesus. How do you always beat me?”

“Because I’m awesome,” she dropped her hands forward to scoop the potato chips in closer to her. A snort fell from Negan’s lips when she shook her head and pushed the potato chips forward. “But we can share.”

“Very bold of you kiddo,” Negan winked at Mia, taking another potato chip for himself before relaxing back in the chair that he was sitting in.

While relaxing, Mia collected the cards and started to shuffle the cards. It made him smile to see her working them the way that he had taught her. Grunting out, Negan pulled himself up from the chair and moved toward the fire that they had set up earlier in the fireplace. Grabbing his chair, he pulled it to him. Taking a seat, he got comfortable and looked to his wrist. Around it was a bracelet that Mia had made for him in their time together. Sadly, it made him think of Annie and Joshua. It had been six weeks since he agreed to be here with Mia and he never thought he would wait this long for Mia’s mom. It had been over two months since Mia’s mother had left and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was never coming back.

“You know,” Negan began, looking back over his shoulder at Mia while she was playing a game of solitaire on her own. “You just keep beating me at all the games that I teach you.”

“That’s because you’re a good teacher,” she got up from where she was seated and grabbed her chair to move in beside Negan. Clearing her throat, she stared out at Negan who was looking at her funny. “What is it?”

“Can I ask you some things?” Negan inquired knowing that they had been on his mind for a while, but he was worried to ask them considering the topic at hand. When Mia gave him the go ahead, he stretched out his legs and frowned. “What else do you know about your father?”

“I told you everything I know about my father,” she reminded him, her jaw flexing when she reached up to stroke over her earlobe in a moment of contemplation. Grumbling to himself, Negan knew that was something he did when he was uncomfortable too and it made him sigh.

“You never saw a photo? She never gave you a name?” Negan threw his hand up in the air pretty sure at this point that Mia was his. That stranger wasn’t wrong. The more time that Negan spent with Mia, the more he realized it. From her physical features to some of the ridiculous quirks that she had—she was so much like him.

“I think it just hurt her so much to lose him,” Mia attempted to explain her mother’s behavior. “I don’t know Negan. She just has a ring that she wears. They were married and she never took it off. That’s all she has from him.”

“What does the ring look like?” Negan’s eyebrow arched up as he stroked his fingers down through his short beard. “Is there anything that stands out?”

“I don’t know, it looks like a ring,” Mia was dramatic, a laugh falling from her throat at how serious Negan was being about everything. “Why? What does it matter about the ring that she wore?”

“I don’t know,” Negan lied knowing that he was just trying to strike something in his memory that would make him think about a moment in his life where things made sense. “I just…I feel like if I heard something or knew something, it would make me remember.”

“Remember what?” she could tell something was wrong and she reached out to place her hand in over his. Negan’s fingers hooked with hers and he gave her a weak smile.

Negan’s lips parted when he considered telling her that he thought he was her father. Instead, he waved his hand in the air dismissively and shrugged his shoulders. There was a long silence that lingered over them for a while when they both sat by the fire before she finally cleared her throat. “I was thinking…it’s been over two months since my mother left. I uh, I know I shouldn’t think like this, but I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Negan tipped his head to the side seeing the color draining from Mia’s features. “What’s on your mind kiddo?”

“If I was ready to finally let go, would you take me with you to go find your family?” she threw out the idea that had been on her mind for a while now after they had waited so long for her mother to return. “I know I’m just some stranger to them, but I really like being with you Negan. You’re the closest thing to a real parent that I’ve ever had.”

“Hey,” Negan frowned, hushing her when she said that out loud.

“I mean it. I loved my mom, but she never used to play games with me,” she pointed back toward the cards that they had been playing with. “I’ve learned more from you than I ever did my mother. I know about football because of you. So many new games. I’ve actually gotten to see the outside. And you make me actually feel seen. Before I felt like my mother’s pet.”

“You don’t mean that,” Negan’s Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and she shook her head with a saddened breath. “I’m sure your mother loved you.”

“My mother loved me the best way she knew how. You’re the first person I’ve actually felt safe with,” she insisted, turning in her chair so that she could face Negan. “You want to get back to your family Negan and I can’t keep holding you back. So why don’t we pack up and I’ll go with you? I’m helpful. I’m a decent cook. I can teach Joshua games. I can babysit when you and Annie want to have alone time.”

“Mia,” Negan snorted, rolling his eyes at the last comment.  

“Please?” she begged of him, her eyes gazing over Negan when she shook her head. “I’d rather just go with you than stay waiting for someone who really never loved me that much in the first place. I know you don’t feel the same way, but I lo…I care about you Negan. You’ve cared for me more in the last month than anyone has in my life.”

“I…” Negan could see the hopefulness in her eyes. It took a minute before he sighed and he gave her a slow nod. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll take you with me to Missouri. You’re just going to have to listen to me and be on my ass at all times.”

With an excited breath, she jumped across the small space to give Negan a hug. An amused sound escaped his throat when she put as much of her strength into it as she could. Hugging her back, Negan nuzzled his nose in against the side of her neck and smiled.

“Thank you, Negan,” she was grateful for him agreeing and she excitedly hopped up from her seat. “I’ll pack tonight! What should I take? How much should we bring?”

“Hey! Calm down. We have to think things out and then we can pack tomorrow. We’ll leave the day after,” Negan announced knowing that he had found comfort in this home, but he wanted to find Annie and Joshua. Staying here was nice, but this wasn’t where he belonged. He knew that. “Let’s just sit and talk about it. Then we will figure everything out.”

And that’s what they did. They planned everything. They packed and she asked a million questions about Annie along with Joshua. What they were like. The things they liked. And he found it charming that she was doing that. With how much she talked, Negan couldn’t help but find amusement in it. She was so much like him and he knew that. They had fallen asleep talking about things before waking up in the morning to go over everything.

“When are we leaving?” Mia seemed frustrated while she paced the living room with Negan taking in account of everything they were bringing with them. “We should just go.”

“Missouri isn’t that close Mia. We just have to make sure that we have everything. We have a very long journey ahead of us. Okay? Just let me make sure that we have everything that we are going to need,” Negan hushed her while he finished looking through all their stuff. The fact that she was so excited to leave surprised Negan. It was a huge difference from the little girl he had met originally. A laugh fell from his throat when he felt Mia wrapping her arms around him from behind. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a hug,” she answered him, burying her head against the side of his neck drawing Negan’s laughter to grow. “I’m just glad you came into my life Negan. You showed up when I needed someone the most and I love you.”

Hearing that drew a breath to catch in Negan’s throat. Closing his eyes, he cherished the hug that she gave him.

Tension flooded Mia’s body when she heard a faint sound coming from outside. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see something change in her eyes when she looked back toward the door, “What is it?”

When they both heard it this time, Negan watched Mia scramble to her feet and run to the door looking out the front of it, “It’s my mom.”

“Mia, don’t,” Negan warned knowing that it had been so long that it likely didn’t make sense that her mother would be returning. It was too fast though because she was running outside and pulling away the brush that Negan had previously thrown in front of the gate. Once it was open, Negan saw a woman hunched over. She was thin, her hair messy, her clothes dirty and she was covered in blood. It made his throat go dry knowing that whoever this was, she had obviously been through hell. “Mia?”

“Mom?” she whispered and Negan heard the woman let out a tremoring breath before stumbling forward. With the way she could barely hold herself up, Negan swiftly swooped in and caught her when she collapsed. It was obvious she had passed out and Mia was scrambling to get a good look at her face. “It’s her. Negan, it’s my mom.”

“Run inside and get a cloth wet,” Negan instructed carrying the woman in his arms toward the cabin after making sure things were locked up again. Laying her down on the couch, Negan could see that Mia’s mom was likely starved and abused. Wherever she was, she had gone through hell. Footsteps were heard when Mia returned with a cloth. “Go find her some clothes Mia. Some clean clothes.”

“Okay,” Mia ran off to do what Negan requested of her.

Negan did his best to clean up the woman before him. Once the blood and the dirt was mostly gone from her face, Negan felt his heart sink finally seeing the features of Mia’s mom before him. An overwhelmed exhale escaped him when he looked to her hand. Observing the ring over her finger had the room spinning around Negan. Dropping back onto his bottom, Negan cleared his throat and lowered his head between his thighs.

“Hey?” Mia called out when she entered the room again with the things Negan asked of her. “Negan? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

“I uh…I don’t know,” Negan stammered with an uneven breath brushing his hair back when he gazed over at Mia. “Let’s just get her cleaned up and we’ll have to wait.”

For days they actually waited. Mia was exhausted and finally fell asleep in her room leaving Negan alone with Mia’s mother. When he was finally about to pass out, he noticed her shifting on the couch. Sitting up straighter, he saw her eyelashes fluttering and she let out a pained sound. Moving in beside her, Negan was doing his best to monitor how she was so he could help her in whatever way possible. When she finally came to, she turned her head to gaze over at him and she let out a shocked breath.

“Negan?” she muttered his name, shakily lifting up to reach out and stroke her fingers over the side of his face. Leaning into her touch, Negan closed his eyes and felt his mouth dry when her whimper followed. “Am I dead?”

“No,” Negan answered her, his eyes opening and he could see that she was crying while she stared out at him. “Hey Y/N.”

“How is this happening?” she let out a tremoring breath, doing her best to pull herself up, but Negan hushed her and tried to stop her from overextending herself. “I thought you were dead. When I went to Alexandria, I was told you were gone. That you weren’t…”

“I’m not dead,” Negan shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip grabbing a hold of her hand while she brushed her fingers through his hair. “I never was.”

“How did you find us?” she questioned, noticing that Negan was crying while he stared down at her and she reached up to swipe the tears away. “I never thought…I never thought I would see you again. I tried to talk to Rick after Mia was born, but no one would listen to me. They took some of the people from The Sanctuary, but they wouldn’t take me. I was too loyal to you and they wouldn’t let me in. Even knowing I was pregnant. They just gave me some supplies and shooed me off. I tried going there. I did and I thought I would save you, I just…they told me you were dead.”

“You stayed at The Sanctuary?” Negan confirmed with a frown, his bottom lip trembling when she nodded.

“Until we couldn’t anymore. We were forced out after a while. It couldn’t sustain life there anymore and we had to leave,” she educated Negan, her fingers tracing over the side of his face while she slid in closer to him. “I’m so sorry. I would have kept trying if I would have known that they had you. I just didn’t and…”

“Y/N,” Negan breathed out feeling her lips claiming his and he was frozen against her kiss at first. Closing his eyes, he allowed her to kiss him before faintly starting to kiss her back. When her fingers brushed through his hair and stroked at the back of his neck, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” she repeated with a weak smile. “Does Mia know that you are her father? Did you tell her? She’s going to be so excited to know that her daddy found us.”

“I’m married,” Negan stammered, his body trembling when she stared out at him with confusion. When she went to kiss him again, he put a distance between them and shook his head. “I can’t Y/N. I’m married.”

“I know,” she lifted her hand to show the ring that he had given her when they were at The Sanctuary together. Y/N was someone that Negan had flirted with for a long time. Someone that he had relentlessly asked to be one of his wives, but she always turned him down. So he romanced her and he romanced her hard. And somewhere down the line he truly felt like he had fallen in love with her. So that’s why when she finally agreed to be one of his wives, he had given her a real ring. At the time, he promised her that after everything went down with Rick that she would be his only wife. And he did know that she was pregnant. It was something he learned toward the start of his war with Rick. It was just when he asked about the people that were still at The Sanctuary, he was told that they all died and he believed it. When he returned to The Sanctuary after he escaped his cell that one day, when there was no sign of Y/N or a baby there, he just believed them. He thought they were dead and never went looking for them again. He couldn’t believe it was something he forgot until he saw her face again the other day. “I’m your wife.”

“Stop,” Negan begged when she went to touch his face again and he lowered her hands down to keep her away from touching him. “I’m married to a woman named Annie. We have a son. His name is Joshua and they are waiting for me in Missouri. I found Mia by mistake almost two months ago. I started thinking she was my daughter, I just didn’t know for sure. We were going to leave for Missouri the day you showed up to go find my wife and my son.”

“You’re not being funny Negan,” Y/N declared with a saddened breath and Negan shook his head slowly. “It’s not…”

“I’m not kidding Y/N. I’m very happily married,” Negan informed her noticing the way that she looked down at the ring that she still wore that he had given her so long ago. “I’m sorry. They told me when I was locked up that everyone was gone at The Sanctuary. I believed them. I thought you were dead. I thought our baby…”

“But Negan, I love you,” Y/N whispered, her voice broken when she shakily reached out to touch him. “I’m your wife.”

“You were one of my wives,” Negan corrected her, leaning back on his knees and shaking his head slowly feeling his heart breaking when she started to cry. “You are a past that I wanted to forget Y/N and I did. I moved on. A long time ago. I thought you were dead and I fell in love with someone else. Someone really great. She knows all of me and she still loves me.”

“So did I,” she reminded him with a sob and he felt guilty, dropping his head down when he saw her sliding back on the couch that he had her on. “Why wouldn’t you look for us? You know that I would never give up on you because I loved you so much. We worked so hard to get pregnant with Mia. We were…”

“I know,” Negan interrupted her with a shake of his head, letting out an uncomfortable sound. “I know. I just thought you were dead Y/N and I moved on. And I’m happy. I was happy. And I want to be with my family. I didn’t mean to, but I completely wiped that part of my life out of my head that I shared with you. I didn’t even remember it until I saw your face again the other day for the first time.”

Silence. That was all that was heard other than her cries while she stared out at him, “Mia and I were going to leave to go to Missouri and search for my family. She thought you were dead and you weren’t coming back. We can take a while to get you feeling better and if you want, I can bring the two of you with me. I can wait the extra time and we can all go together.”

“No,” she immediately responded with a shake of her head, reaching for the pillow that was beside her to bring it in closer to her. “I refuse to go on some journey with you so you can find the family that you actually wanted.”

“That’s not fair,” Negan cried, his head tipping to the side while she stared at out him with pain in her expression. “I didn’t know you were alive.”

“You didn’t even bother to look,” she yelled at him causing the color to drain from Negan’s features. “Now you’re asking me to follow you to another state to find the woman you are in love with. So I can what? Watch you and her together for the rest of my life?”

“You’d be safer with me. You and Mia would be much safer with me,” Negan suggested, his eyebrows full of emotion and he let out a tremoring breath. Hearing her sobbing broke his heart, but he couldn’t fix what had already been broken for so long. “Just come with me. We’ll find my family and all of us can be together. Mia is my daughter too and…”

“Oh, fuck you,” she snarled at Negan shaking her head in anger. “You’re in her life for how long and suddenly you think that you can say and determine what I do with Mia? No Negan. That’s not how this shit works.”

“She wants to be with me,” Negan explained, his fists tightening up at his sides with his body clenching up. “She doesn’t even know I’m her father and she wants to come with me. She loves me. She belongs with me.”

“You didn’t even fucking care to look for her,” Y/N snapped back drawing a shuddering exhale from his throat. “So how dare you act like you even care now. Do you have any idea what I’ve done to get back to Mia. What I’ve suffered through? What those people…” she stopped to look down toward the ground and she shook her head. “No, I won’t let you take Mia from me. Not after what happened to me. You won’t take my daughter. Why don’t you just leave Negan.”

“I can’t just leave knowing that you and Mia are here, vulnerable,” Negan reasoned with Y/N hearing her sobs getting harder. “You aren’t healthy. You both need to be protected. Just rest and in a few weeks we can all…”

“Get the fuck out of here Negan,” she screamed at him shoving her hands into the center of his chest drawing him to fall back onto the ground. “I have been heart broken since the moment they took you away. I haven’t been the same since and you just think you can do this?”

“It sounds like you were so fucked up that you were a shitty mother to our daughter,” Negan erupted back on her, shocking her with his response. “You taught her nothing. If I wasn’t here to take care of her in the two months you fucking disappeared, she would have been dead. I kept our daughter alive and she almost…she almost fucking died at one point, but I saved her. And then she tells me that you never even acted like you loved her to begin with. She’s felt more loved in the last month with me than she ever has with you. So why the fuck did you have to show up and ruin it? It would have been fine if you wouldn’t have showed back up!”

“So you get to just show back up in our lives, say fuck you to me and take Mia away from me?” she spoke softly while Negan’s heart pounded away inside of his chest. “So what was I Negan? Just someone you used to get pregnant? You promise me things that you will never give? Did you ever really love me Negan?”

“Of course I did,” Negan replied back with a frown, throwing his hands up in the air. “I did love you Y/N.”

“Like you said, I was just one of the wives though,” she reminded him what he had said earlier and he reached up to shakily brush his hair back. “I was just the only one dumb enough to love you, wasn’t I? To let you get me pregnant.”

“I understand you have to be going through a lot of emotions right now because of everything,” Negan began, the vein at the side of his neck protruding with the tension that he was feeling. “And no matter what I say to you, you’re never gonna believe me because you’re hurt. Regardless of what you think, I did love you and I was happy that you were pregnant.”

“But you found something better,” she filled in the blanks, her head nodding slowly. “I understand. I’m glad you found what you always wanted. I hope it makes you happy.”

“I am happy,” Negan assured her with a nod of his head knowing that what he was telling her absolutely destroyed her. “But I would be a lot happier if you and Mia came with me back to Missouri. You’d be safer. I’d get to be with my daughter. It’s a win for all of us.”

“No, you don’t get to have the best of both worlds,” she denied him, shaking her head and confusing him. “You pick them or her, you can’t have both.”

“That’s not fair,” Negan countered, anger flooding his veins with her giving him an ultimatum. “I don’t want to lose Mia now that she is back in my life. I’m her father. I belong in her life. You know that you both would be safer with me, but you’re mad at me so you’re holding this over my head. Look what happened to you being alone Y/N. Get your head out of your ass and do the right thing. The right thing for you and the right thing for your daughter. The two of you are just going to die here if I leave you. Look at you Y/N.”

“And it’s not fair that you abandon us and then you get to have everything you ever wanted. A family. A wife that you actually love. Two kids. While I have nothing,” she shook her head causing Negan to frown and drop his head back. Dragging his hands down his face had Y/N dropping back against the couch. “I wish you would have just stayed gone. Because at least with me thinking you were dead I thought you died protecting us instead of knowing that we meant nothing to you.”

“If I would have never showed up, your daughter would be dead,” Negan reminded her with a bit of venom in his tone. “Our daughter deserves to know that she’s mine. I’m leaving to go find my family and I’m going to give her a choice. She can stay here with you. Or she can come. She deserves to have a choice.”

“And she will pick you because you’re what’s new. You’re the fun parent that has shown her love that she never felt,” Y/N pointed out with a frown, squeezing the pillow in closer to her. “Thanks Negan. I take over two months of abuse and torture to make it back to my daughter only to have you take her from me. Thank you.”

“It’s not my fault that all of this happened,” Negan stood up from the floor, staring out at her with confusion flooding his veins. “She deserves to know that she’s my daughter. And she has the right to pick who she wants to be with.”

“Great. I’m glad that you are going to go find your family. Your son. Your wife. And you get to have Mia,” she tremored, a long shallow breath falling from her lips. “Congratulations Negan. You got everything you ever wanted in life. Good for you.”

“I suffered too you know. I was in prison for seven years with people abusing me and treating me terrible,” Negan hissed, his eyebrows furrowing in anger when she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Fuck it. If you want to be like that. Be like that.”

“I should have known from the start you never loved me. They all told me,” she laid back down on the couch, turning away from Negan when he stopped to listen to her. “Sherry, Dwight, Simon…even Rick. I just never fucking believed it. I was too in love with you. Or the idea of you, I guess. How happy you got when you found out I was pregnant, I thought you were happy to finally have a family. But it was just the baby you wanted. Not me.”

“That’s not true,” Negan reasoned with her hearing her crying when he attempted to move forward to reach for her again. “Can you please just be an adult about this and understand? It makes more sense for you to leave with me and go to Missouri. We’ll all be together and…”

Negan knew it was no use talking to her like this. It just wasn’t. In the end they were never going to agree. Going over to the other end of the room, Negan sat down and cornered himself. Thinking about things, he rocked back and forth. It took him seeing Y/N’s face for him to actually remember that he had a woman that he was married to that was pregnant when he got taken to Alexandria. Maybe she was right. How could someone who loved someone like that forget?

Looking up toward the stairs, Negan knew that he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Mia, but he knew he had to leave. Grabbing his bag and one of the bag of supplies, he threw it over his shoulder and headed out the door. It was better for everyone if he just left and he knew that.

For a while he walked until he heard the sound of feet trying to catch up to him. Cussing out, he lowered his head and swallowed down hard, “Go home Mia!”

“No,” Mia’s voice responded while she moved in behind Negan. Looking back, he saw that she had the other supplies and her backpack on ready to go on the journey with him. “We made plans, we’re going to Missouri together.”

“Go home!” Negan screamed at her and she immediately shook her head. “Your mother is home now. We made a deal.”

“You promised. You told me that you would never leave me,” she reminded him with a whimper hearing Negan scoff.

“Until your mother returned home,” he reminded her with what he had said. “Your mother is home. Therefore, I owe you nothing. My promise? I made it. So I’m leaving.”

“Please,” Mia begged from where she was standing behind him with the bag over her shoulder. Her eyes were optimistic and she shook her head. “I want to go with you.”

“You are meant to be with your mother,” Negan could see that there were tears swelling up in her eyes while she stared out at Negan. Here she was begging to go with him not even knowing that he was her biological father. And that fact? It tore him apart. “You can’t come with me.”

Turning on his heel, Negan went to leave when he heard her feet following him and he stopped again, “Stop following me!”

“Negan,” she reasoned with him, her bottom lip quivering while she stared up at him. “I…we…I think…”

“You can’t be this stupid, right?” Negan dropped his bag at his side knowing that there was only one way he could think of to get her back to her mother and that was to break her. “I don’t love you, Mia. I don’t. You were a means of keeping me alive. I have no feelings toward you. You told me you cared about me and that you loved me. Did I ever tell you it back? I don’t love you.”

“That’s not true. You wouldn’t have stayed that whole month and a half if you didn’t care about me,” she reasoned with him, her dimples sinking in and it killed Negan seeing that he was breaking her down after his talk with Y/N. “I know you’re just lying to get me to stay here, but with you…I feel safer than I ever have in my life. I love you Negan. Please. I don’t care about anything else. I want to be with you.”

“I don’t want you with me!” Negan screamed at her, his body shaking and his eyes tearing over when she took a step back. Fear flooded into her features as Negan shook his head and bit down on his bottom lip. “You know, your father didn’t die Mia. In fact, your father knew that your mother was pregnant with you and he didn’t care. He didn’t even think about the two of you while he was gone. He just assumed the two of you were dead and he didn’t bother to come looking for you because he didn’t care. You and your mother? The both of you meant nothing to him.”

“That’s not true,” her voice tremored, her head shaking. “My mother said my father very much wanted me. That he loved me. That he loved her. That he would have done anything to keep me safe and…”

“Then why did he go off and have another family? He got married again and had a little boy,” Negan explained, his eyes narrowing when his jaw tightened. Contemplation started to flood her features when Negan started going off about things. “A little boy he loved more than he loved you.”

“Why are you saying these things?” Negan was hurting her and he could see that his words were breaking her heart. “You told me that I could come with you before. You said…”

“I thought your mom was dead,” Negan reminded her, his bottom lip quivering when he shook his head. “You see Mia. I know your dad isn’t dead because I’m your dad. We both know it. Even those strangers that we ran into knew that you were my daughter. All you have to do is look at us and you know that you’re my daughter. You have my eyes, my dimples, my freckles, my smart-ass sense of humor…”

Negan’s finger circled his own face and then he pointed out at her, “I’m your dad Mia.”

That backfired. After he confirmed for her what they both had wondered before her mother even came back, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him to hug him. Holding his hands up in the air, Negan swallowed down hard and closed his eyes.

“Get off of me,” Negan demanded, shaking his head while venom flooded into his tone. “I didn’t want you then and I don’t want you now.”

Stumbling back, Mia looked up at him with her hazel eyes full of tears and Negan shook his head, “I knew your mother was pregnant with you. Once I was taken to Alexandria, I never looked back. I didn’t give a shit about the people there. I didn’t give a shit about your mother. And most of all…I didn’t give a fuck about you.”

A hurt sound fell deep from within her and her sobs followed. Even though he was trying to hold it together, he was breaking himself and he hated himself for doing this but he knew that he had to find a way for her to stay with her mother, “I could have come looking for you. And I didn’t. Because I didn’t care Mia. I started a whole new family. I have a son that I love. A wife…”

“Maybe…maybe you could learn to love me,” Mia whimpered, tears sliding down the sides of her face. “I don’t think we can make it without you Negan. I almost didn’t. Daddy please…”

“Don’t call me that,” Negan warned her, holding his finger up in the air and pointing it at her. “Don’t you dare call me that. You have no right to call me your fucking father. I didn’t want it then and I don’t want it now.”

“But you are,” she frowned, reaching up to rub at her tear-stained face while he continued to down talk her and chastise her. “I know you love me. And knowing that you are my dad, that just proves that this was meant to happen. You were meant to find me…”

“I have a son that I actually love and I’m going to find my way back to him,” Negan informed her with a shake of his head and he reached for his bag. This isn’t how he wanted things to go down, but Y/N made things clear earlier. There was no way that she would come with them and if he took Mia, it would destroy her. “I have a family that means something to me. And I’m going to find them. So why don’t you stay with your mother? Someone who actually loves you.”

“Please, I can help you find them,” Mia begged of Negan, her body shaking while Negan tried his best to stop himself from crying, but he couldn’t. “I’d be a really good big sister. I’d…”

“I’ve spent the last month and a half with you Mia,” Negan reminded her of the time they spent together and he shook his head. “And in that time, it only confirmed for me what I knew back then. I feel nothing for you. There is nothing here. You were a mistake. A poorly timed mistake that I never wanted in the first place.”

Calling her a mistake when that was the thing she was the most afraid of hearing hit her deep down and he knew that it would, “Goodbye Mia.”

Her sobs filled the woods and Negan continued walking through them. After a minute, he felt her running out and grabbing a hold of him in attempts to keep him near. Yanking his arm away, Negan spun on his heel and stared down at her, “I don’t want you, Mia. What about that don’t you understand?”

“Then I will sit here. And I’ll wait for one of the flesh eaters to get me,” she whimpered dropping down in the middle of the woods that they were in. “If you don’t want me, I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t like it with my mother. I love you and I want to be with you. Please.”

“I don’t care Mia,” Negan scoffed, grabbing his bag hearing her cries getting louder when he threw his hands up in the air. “If that’s how you want to leave your mother, then that’s your decision. From here on out? You aren’t my problem.”

“Please Negan,” Mia’s voice was broken when he turned away from her to look in the other direction. He had to convince himself to keep going. He couldn’t let this break him. He made his choice and so did Y/N. “Daddy. Please. If you leave, you’re leaving me to die. I’m begging you…”

Walking away, Negan could hear her cries no matter how far away he got. And he had to force himself to keep going. After what her mother told him, there was no way that it would have ever worked. And he had to tell himself that. He had to find Annie and Joshua. There were no other options. Y/N was his past and while he understood why she was hurt, she was the one that denied them going with him. So he had to respect her wishes. The best that he could hope for at this point was that they were able to keep going. That they would find a community and be able to move on.

More than anything he wanted to bring Mia with him, but her mother made it clear that wasn’t a possibility, so he had to wipe that idea from his mind and keep going. No matter how much it broke his heart.

[aussie-bookworm]

Going Through The Motions: Bonus Bits

Hi all! I'll keep this quick but we recently hit 4k hits on Going Through The Motions! I can't believe it! Thank you all for reading my silly little fic.

As thanks, I went through my cut content document and polished up these missing scenes from Chapter Four: Help. I originally wrote full scenes of Scout asking each merc for help but decided it was going to make an already long chapter too long and it was a bit repetitive so I cut it down to the basics.

These scenes take place between Scout asking Engie for help and asking Spy for help. Thank you to the lovely @gingerale13 for proofreading! Enjoy!

Demo finished his list of names on the blackboard and put a cross next to Engie’s name.

“Alright, next up is…”

***

“Heavy?” Scout asked, knocking on the man’s door. “Can we come in? I need your help.”

“Da. Just cleaning Sasha. Door is unlocked. Do not touch gun.”

Scout hesitantly opened the door to see Heavy sitting on the floor of his room, surrounded by gun parts, focused on cleaning the barrel. 

Scout shot a nervous look at Demo who nodded. 

Honestly, Scout doubted Heavy would be able to help him, but he had to make his way through the list.

“What is problem?” Heavy asked, not looking up from his task.

Scout slowly sat down, cross-legged across from him, making an effort not to touch Sasha.

How would he even explain this? Scout knew that with Heavy, you had to be blunt.

“I need your help. I’m stuck living in a loop of the same day.”

Heavy merely raised an eyebrow and continued cleaning.

“So you come to me for joke?”

Scout blinked, leaning away from Heavy.

“What? No! Nonono! Heavy it ain’t a joke! I'm actually in a time loop! Tell him Demo!”

Demo sat down next to Scout with a sigh.

“It’s all true, Heavy. Swear on my mum’s life.”

Heavy hummed to himself, as he gently placed the barrel down and started cleaning the rotor. 

“And you come to me because you have no other options.”

It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

“How did you…?”

“Little Scout would not willingly come to me for help with magic problem unless no options are available. So you come to Heavy.”

Scout bit his lip with a frown as he looked away.

Heavy was smarter than Scout gave him credit for. The team always saw him as a big gun-obsessed Russian. Maybe there was more to him than Scout originally thought.

“Yeah, but–”

“Heavy,” Demo interrupted, holding a hand out in front of Scout to shut him up. “Have you noticed anything off with Scout during the last couple of days or weeks? Or just… anything noteworthy that could change things?”

Heavy was silent as he slowly started reassembling his gun.

“Cannot think of anything. Little Scout is little Scout as always,” he eventually commented. “I have suggestions but do not think little Scout would listen.”

“Suggestions?” Scout’s ears perked up. “What do you have for me, big guy?”

Heavy sighed as he continued to skillfully put Sasha back together.

“Understand that team is looking out for little Scout and is not babying him. Understanding others’s motives is good thing for strong team, da?”

Scout sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” he responded dejectedly. “Been through enough loops of you telling me that to get it through my thick skull.”

Heavy was unperturbed.

“Team is only as strong as weakest link. When one succeeds, all succeed.”

That made sense, Scout guessed. No ‘i’ in team and all that. 

But Scout already knew this from his baseball days! How was this supposed to help?!

“Anythin’ else?”

Heavy was silent again as he finished up his assembly. Sasha stood proud in front of Scout, ready for action.

As Scout stared at the gun, Heavy finally turned his gaze over to Scout and assessed him.

“Teamwork requires communication. Speak to Sniper.”

“What?!” 

“You have been avoiding Sniper. I have seen it. Speak to Sniper.”

Scout spluttered, trying to come up with a response.

“He’s right lad,” Demo spoke up. “Even I have noticed you’re avoiding him and I’m drunk half the time!”

Was that why Engie had suggested it yesterday? Had he also noticed and decided not to be as blunt as Heavy?

No! He couldn’t risk it! He barely got through that awkward conversation when he tried to give Sniper a compliment! Why would he decide to do that again?!

“I… I’ll do it, tomorrow,” Scout lied.

Heavy nodded.

“Very good. Is there anything else Heavy can do to help?”

“Don’t think so. Thanks, big guy.”

Heavy smiled and nodded. He stood up and picked up Sasha. Scout took that as his cue to leave. 

Quietly, Scout stood up and Demo went to follow. He opened the door as Demo slipped through.

Scout threw a look over his shoulder to see Heavy starting to clean his supplies, before shutting the door behind him.

Scout turned to see Demo looking at him. Silently, they both turned and started to walk down the hallway.

“So, tomorrow you’ll talk to Sniper, right?” Demo asked, breaking the silence.

Scout quickly wiped the scowl off his face before Demo could notice.

“Yep!” Scout lied.

***

“So we’ve talked to Engie and Heavy? We’re making good time,” Demo commented.

“I guess,” Scout responded. “So who’s next?”

***

“Hey Medic, got a minute?”

Medic’s head snapped up from the corpse he was experimenting on and looked at Scout as he and Demo pushed the doors to the infirmary open.

“Herr Scout, you know where the plasters are. You do not need my help to put one on.”

“No, it’s not that.”

Medic sighed. 

“What is it then? Herr Demo might need my help and you are wasting my valuable time.”

Demo shook his head.

“No doc, I’m fine,” he responded. “Scout needs your help, though.”

“Verdammt. What is it?”

Demo gave Scout an encouraging nod as Medic continued to operate on the corpse. Scout let out a nervous breath.

Of course, he was nervous about this! He knew what Medic did last time Scout told him about the loop!

“I need you to promise me you won’t try to give me meds this time, okay?”

“…This time?”

“Just promise, okay?”

Medic shot Scout a confused look but slowly nodded.

“Ja, okay, I promise.”

Scout sighed. 

Good enough, he guessed.

“I’m in a time loop,” Scout blurted out. “If you can help me that’d be great. Have you noticed anything off with me in the last couple of days?” 

Medic blinked, processing the stream of speech that was directed at him. 

His scalpel slipped out of his hand and into the corpse’s rib cage as he turned his head to look at Demo who had a serious expression on his face. Medic turned back to Scout.

“O…kay?” Medic eventually answered, picking up the scalpel. “Am I to understand you have been experiencing the same day on repeat?”

Scout nodded.

“Yeah. Demo suggested I talk to everyone and see if they can help.”

“Really, we just want to see if there’s something Scout can change that I haven’t already noticed,” Demo helpfully added.

Medic looked up at Demo through his eyelashes.

“And what have you noticed, Herr Demo?”

Demo said nothing, staring at the doctor. Medic frowned and tilted his head. 

As the two seemingly had a silent conversation among themselves, only nodding and pulling faces, Scout bit his lip.

“Uh… I can go if you want,” Scout spoke up.

“No need, Herr Scout,” Medic replied with a bloody wave. “I was just making sure Herr Demo and I are on the same page.”

“Okay then. Can you help me? You’re smart – surely you can think of something!”

Medic put a hand to his chin in thought.

“Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything major that could break this loop you speak of,” he mused as he placed the scalpel he was using down and reached towards Scout. “Unless you let me look at your brain and the observable effects under the loop–”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” Scout interrupted, slapping one of Medic’s hands away. “Besides, you wouldn’t even fuckin’ remember it!”

“Ja, but how often do I get to observe the synapses of a brain undergoing extreme stress and magic? Oh! I wonder if brain activity would remain the same as the previous loop! Or would it change as you are experiencing a different flow of time?”

“You’re scarin’ the lad, doc,” Demo piped up.

Medic laughed as Scout staggered backwards.

“Just imagine…” Medic said to himself.

Scout frowned slightly. He wasn’t going to get much more out of Medic which was somehow both a blessing and a curse.

“I… I’m gonna go. If you can think of anything that can get me out, let me know before midnight.”

That conversation seemed pretty quick and painless. Scout wondered if the conversations with the rest of the team would be the same.

As Scout turned to leave, Medic perked up. 

“Ah, Herr Scout?” Medic spoke up.

Goddamn it.

Scout silently begged for this conversation not to go where he thought it was going to go.

“Yeah?”

“Have you spoken to Herr Sniper about this?”

Fuck.

What was everyone's obsession with him speaking with Sniper?! Scout avoiding Sniper wasn’t that bad, was it? 

“Oh um… he’s later down on our list. I-I’ll talk to him then.”

Medic nodded approvingly

“Good, good. I recommend you speak to him earlier. He might have seen something similar to this during his career.”

Scout frowned.

“Why don’t I speak to Spy then? He’s way older and has probably seen more shit.”

“The man is… Scheiße, what’s the word in English?”

“A prick?” Scout suggested.

“Secretive,” Demo offered.

“Ja! Secretive! He does not like to share details of his past. Although…”

Demo cleared his throat.

“One problem at a time, doc,” Demo interrupted. 

“But it might–”

“Doc, not our place to say, remember?”

Scout blinked.

“Are youse hiding something from me?”

Demo and Medic made an obvious effort to look away from Scout, who was starting to feel very left out.

“Okay… You don’t gotta tell me anything. Just figured it might help break this loop quicker,” Scout muttered.

Demo sighed.

“Sorry lad. If we told you, he’d probably kill us.”

What?

“Even if you won’t remember tomorrow?”

“Herr Scout, drop it,” Medic snapped.

Scout recoiled and stared at the two men.

“Alright, alright! I’ll go! I’ll leave you two to your secrets, assholes.”

With a scoff, Scout sulked off to his room. 

Quietly Demo shook his head at Medic.

“Plan B,” he whispered.

“Ah, I see. Good luck getting him to speak to Herr Sniper. He’s stubborn as a mule.”

Demo groaned.

“It’s gotta happen sooner or later. Either way, are we still good for drinks tomorrow?”

“Ja. Heavy found a new bar that’s opened in town that we haven’t been banned from yet!”

***

“This would be more effective if I could remember these previous conversations,” Demo muttered, drawing crosses next to Engie, Heavy and Medic’s names.

“Yeah, well, they’re not very helpful,” Scout said, trying to decipher the names on the blackboard. “Are you sure about this one?”

“Well, who do you go to for a fantastical scenario? That’s right, you go to…”

***

“Pyro! Hey buddy, are you free right now?”

“Mmph! Mm-Mmph! Mm!”

Scout and Demo walked inside and sat down at Pyro’s tea party table.

Now, this conversation should be nice and quick, right?

“Pyro, I need some help from you.”

“Mph mm?”

“Yeah. You see, Merasmus cursed me to live the same day over and over again.”

“Mm-mmph!”

“I know, buddy. He said that I can only break it when I make a huge change to myself, but I don’t know what else to change. Have you noticed anything I need to change?”

Pyro was silent before they jumped up from their seat and ran over to their bed where Balloonicorn was resting. 

They thrust Balloonicorn into Scout’s arms for a hug, bouncing slightly. 

Honestly, Scout couldn’t say no to Pyro. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around the plush toy and squeezed. Demo snorted from next to him.

“Does Balloonicorn know how to break the curse?” Scout hesitantly asked from his hug. 

Pyro shook their head.

“Mph mmphmm mph mph mmph mmphmm!”

“He wanted me to feel better?”

Pyro nodded.

“But you and Balloonicorn don’t know what else I could change?”

Pyro deflated slightly and shook their head. 

“Mmph.”

“No, it’s okay. We haven’t had much luck with the others either.”

Pyro looked away and started tapping their foot.

“Mmph mph mmph mmphmph?”

Not this again.

“What’d they say, lad?” Demo asked.

Was this coordinated?! How much did the team talk about Scout and Sniper behind their backs?

“They asked if I had spoken to Sniper yet. We’re doin’ that tomorrow.”

Pyro cheered and clapped their hands before going in to give Scout a bone-crushing hug. Scout gave a small smile and pat Pyro on the back. 

As he turned to walk back into the hallway, Scout’s smile slipped off his face and was replaced with a scowl.

He was running out of time and excuses.

***

“Okay, so we’ve talked to Engie, Heavy, Medic and Pyro. Now we’re onto the S’s. Are you ready to speak to…”

“Actually Demo? I fucked up. We spoke to Sniper yesterday. I just forgot to tell you,” Scout lied.

He didn’t want to risk anything. 

The way things currently were with Sniper was fine, Scout told himself.

He didn’t want to scare Sniper away thanks to some dumb feelings he had.

“…Why did you…?”

“I just forgot,” Scout responded. “All these talks with everyone are kinda blending into one. Sniper didn’t know shit and it was so similar to our convo with Heavy that I kinda just… forgot one. Sorry.”

Demo was silent, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Sniper didn’t say anything helpful?”

“Nah. It sucks but he didn’t know anything to help.”

One little white lie couldn’t hurt, right? 

Demo sighed and turned back to the blackboard, drawing a cross next to Sniper’s name. He muttered something under his breath Scout didn’t catch.

“Alright then. Today we’ll be speaking to…”

***

“Soldier?” Scout called, knocking on the door

“Atten…tion!”

Demo leaned into Scout space.

“…Do we salute or…?” Demo asked.

Scout shrugged as he knocked again.

“Solly, can we come in? I need your help.”

“Affirmative, Private Second-Class! You may enter!”

Scout pushed the door open to reveal Soldier doing push-ups in the centre of the room. 

Scout blinked at the sight in front of him. Did the guy ever rest?!

“At ease, Soldiers!” Soldier ordered, getting to his feet. “You requested aid?!”

Scout shot a hesitant look at Demo before turning back to Soldier.

“Uh… yeah, I did, Solly. I need your help. I’m stuck in a time loop and can’t get out. Is there anything you think I need to change about myself that could break the loop?”

Solider hummed as he put a finger to his chin and tapped his foot.

“Have you spoken to Merasmus about this?”

“Affirmativ- I mean, yeah, but he wasn’t able to crack it! He suggested I find something I needed to change, but I can’t find anything else! I’ve won so many matches, I’ve been to your boot camp so many times, I don’t fuckin’ know what else to do!”

Soldier frowned.

“Then, I have got nothing to offer.”

Scout deflated. He was starting to get sick and tired of this song and dance.

“Alright, thanks, Solly.”

As they turned to leave, Scout could see out of the corner of his eye, Soldier perk up.

“Private second class!” 

Oh no. If this was about–

“Have you informed the Sniper?”

Scout blinked, saying nothing, and just glaring at the corner of the room.

“P-private second class?” Soldier asked, sounding hesitant for the first time since Scout had met him.

Scout ignored him, robotically turning and leaving without saying a word, leaving both Soldier and Demo dumbfounded.

“What is wrong with Private second-class?” Soldier turned to Demo.

Demo sighed.

“Janey, he’s been doing this for fifty-nine days. All things considered, I’m surprised he hasn’t plumb given up.”

“Hm… His determination is admirable! When he fixes this, I think I will give him a rank-up! And a medal!”

“You do that, Janey.”

[ducks-on-jupiter]

BSD disability week day 2: Blindness

I know this is a day late, haha... I wrote it as fast as I could

TW: internalized and external ableism, descriptions of medical settings, injuries, and scars

Dazai woke up to find that he was in Mori’s medical office. The last thing he remembers, he was on a practice mission Mori had sent him on. He tries to blink a few times to adjust to the bright light. The room stays blurry. There’s an uncomfortable cloth over his right eye. His head ached.

“What happened to my eye?” Dazai pushed himself up with his elbows. “There’s bandages over it.”

“You don’t remember?”

“If i remembered, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He snaps back.

“You got in a little… accident.” Mori sighs. He’s shuffling through documents at his desk. At least Dazai thinks that’s what he’s doing. It’s hard to tell when everything is blurry, and one of his eyes is covered.

“Accident?”

“You aren’t going to get that half of your vision back.” Mori’s tone comes out cold. “You’re lucky you still have a functioning left eye,”

“It’s all blurry.”

“That’ll get better once it stops swelling.”

Theres a heavy pause in the room. The air sends chills down Dazai’s spine.

“You’re going to need to re-learn how to shoot a gun. I thought you knew to be more careful Osamu. You were unconscious for three days and im not interested in having to replace my demon prodigy.”

“I’m not replaceable.”

“You’re going to be if you don’t adapt to this.”

This was the very first experience Osamu Dazai had in relation to his blindness, and it did not help set his internal tone about his impairments whatsoever.

.

.

.

Dazai was sitting in Chuuya’s office, groaning over their mission report paperwork. He’d been staring at the lines of letters for ten minutes. It hurt to look at them, the words kept jumping around because his vision wouldn’t stay focused, chuuya was waiting on him to finish his section of the report.

“Dazai, I want to hand this in soon. My ideal afternoon is not sitting at work waiting on your lazy ass to finish paperwork.”

God, why can’t he just get it done like a normal person? It isn’t that hard, his head doesn’t hurt that bad, he should be trying harder, doing more, doing better in the rank that he earned- that he has to keep that-

“Mackerel, are you crying over paperwork?”

Dazai flinches, he was crying? Oh, he was crying. Oops. He wipes his eye and turns away from Chuuya.

“Dazai?”

No response from dazai, other than his shoulders shaking as he hides his face from chuuya.

“Osamu?” Chuuya said gently. “Are you okay?”

This was turning into one of those rare moments where the two teenage boys actually showed each other some semblance of care and worry. There was some weird friendship hidden underneath all of their fighting and screaming at one another.

“I’ll get it done. Sorry.” Dazai mumbles and picks up his pen.

“No, forget about the report for a second, why are you crying?” Chuuya pulls his chair over to Dazai’s desk. Yes, dazai had a desk in Chuuya’s office. Dazai looks up at him, having given up on seeming emotionless and mysterious by now. Chuuya brushes a strand of hair from Dazai’s face. “Do you want to talk?”

“You’ll use it against me.”

“I promise you, i won’t.”

“Yes you will.”

“I swear on my hat.”

Dazai laughs lightly.

“What is it, Dazai?”

Dazai takes a deep, shaky breath before looking at Chuuya. “Before you joined, when i was doing a training mission for Mori, i got hurt really badly. Left me half blind.”

The process of the dots connecting in Chuuya’s head is visible on his face. He lets out a long, but quiet “oh.”

“Yeah. Not a very good thing in our line of work.”

After that, Chuuya and Dazai had established a few things to help dazai out a little bit. Chuuya started letting Dazai link their arms or hold onto his bag or sleeve while they walked, because Dazai had really bad depth perception. Chuuya would read their paperwork to him when dazai was having trouble.

.

.

.

“Can I see under your bandages?” Chuuya asked gently. He and dazai were siting on his couch, almost cuddling but not quite. It had been about a year and a half of Chuuya knowing Dazai was blind.

“It’s not really something i like showing people.” Dazai starts fidgeting with his wrist bandages.

“I’m not going to judge you, but you don’t have to show me.”

Dazai has seen Chuuya on the verge of death tens of times. It only seemed fair to offer a little bit of vulnerability back, but vulnerability has never been Dazai’s thing. At all. “Are you sure you wanna see that? It’s kind of gross-“

“I want to understand you better.”

After a few moments of quiet, Dazai unwraps the bandages on his face. Theres a really bad scar over his eye, red and purple and raised. It made him feel gross. He always thought his existence was gross. This made it worse.

“Im sorry-“

“Why? It’s just your body. You can’t change it. There’s nothing ‘super gross and disturbing’ it’s a scar.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” Dazai feels a small pang of wariness in his chest.

.

.

.

Dazai and Chuuya were sitting in a cafe, across from one another. It was a warm and cozy, small little building. Chuuya lets out a small, content sigh,

“You look happier, now.” He says softly. “Being away from the Mafia was good for you?”

“I guess it was,” Dazai shrugs. “Thanks for meeting up with me, I know we aren’t on the… best terms,”

“We’ve never been on the best terms.” Chuuya laughs slightly. “I wrote the whole menu out on my phone before you got here, so you can adjust the text and-“

“You didn’t have to do that,”

“But i wanted to? It’s just the decent thing to do,” Chuuya hands Dazai his phone.

Dazai skims through the menu on Chuuya’s phone for a minute, he hums quietly.

“Also,” Chuuya says with a small smile audible in his tone, “We’re you going to acknowledge the cane, or did you just assume I saw it?”

“Oh, yeah that. I just got used to it, I guess.”

Chuuya takes a small breath, “hey, I’m happy your accommodating yourself now,”

“…Thanks. It was really hard to admit I needed it.”

Chuuya scoots his chair closer to Dazai’s and gives his hand a small squeeze. Dazai smiles.

[sungjinhos]

✷ There is a before and after you when the subject is Seokmin.

✷ genre: Angst, Break Up. Non-Linear Narrative. sad and angry

✷ word count: 4716

✷ featuring: Yoon Jeonghan, one (1) Hoshi mention, two (2) Jeon wonwoo mention, two (2) seungcheol mention, three (3) vernon mention

✷ thea’s note: hey y'all i've been m.i.a. because 1 - phd is kicking my ass but i am pretty sure now I can conduct a poli sci experiment, and 2 - i've been having the time of my life writing a book with an actual plot (i cried this week because of it)(i wrote this fic in 4 hours because i've been writing this book for months and i needed to end something). but yeah!! pretty great!!! here is some heartbreaking fic for you!!!  Also go listen to Niki - oceans and engenes while reading this ♥

Saturday sunset We're lying on my bed with five hours to go Fingers entwined and so were our minds

[Year one]

Saturdays were your new holy days.

If you started a new religion, Saturdays would be the day that would be saved and cherished. All because Saturdays started and ender in Seokmin’s arms.

It was like a clockwork. After your last Friday class – which happened to be a whole 2hours on Justice and a senior professor babbling about John Rawls when you much preferred Iris Young and her feminist critic, you would walk for thirty minutes in the outskirts of your campus until you reached your boyfriend's tiny apartment. He shared with three other dudes – Mingyu, Minghao, and Vernon. He got the smallest room, yet, in that cubicle was perfect.

“What are you thinking?” His hoarse voice rang in your ears, he drank too much (it was Jeonghan’s birthday, weird it would be if he didn’t drink his weight in alcohol) and was one step away from reaching REM sleep.

“Nothing,” you say, your fingers reaching his hair while his face is tucked on your neck.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Seokmin grumbles, with every breath and every word his lips brush against your neck.

“I just really like Saturdays,” you want to say I like our Saturdays, I like spending all day with you, I hope we could spend all days like we spend our Saturdays.

“Me too,” he says hugging your tightly on his arms, and you hope he is saying he too want to spend all days with you.

Crying, I don't want you to go You wiped away tears But not fears under the still and clear indigo You said: Baby, don't cry, we'll be fine

[Year four]

“Why are you crying?” Seokmin asks with a smile so bright on his face that it hurts on your ribcage.

“Because this sucks,” being away from you sucks, it is what you want to say but the guilty is something that doesn’t go well with your boyfriend.

“Baby,” Seokmin almost laughs, “it is just three hours on a train.” He says, his fingertips brushing away your tears, “We can handle that, just three hours away.”

He says and you want to believe him, but when his voice shakes you just hold him closer, your grip tight on his white shirt and you almost want to crawl under it. Living under his ribcage is the only way possible. To share the same air, is the only way you know how to live.

“You are acting like you don’t believe me,” he says, his arms around you, “should I be worried that my girlfriend is acting like we are on the verge of a breakup?”

Yes is the word that gets stuck in your throat.

“We talked about that, come on, we even got into the masters we wanted, this is the best-case scenario. It is just a four-hour trip we can take turns and all that.”

“Four hours,” you repeat more to you than to him, in a way trying to understand why he is so calm and collected about not spending his hours with you. Four hours. Four hours seems like a whole life away. Four hours you could cross the earth in four hours.

You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow My mother said the younger me was a pretending prodigy Well, nothing then much has changed

[Year one]

You don’t know how you met Seokmin. Really, the memory is just not there. You don’t know who is the missing link, it must be Jeonghan because Jeonghan knows everyone. You were a humanities girly you don’t know why you are in the company of biology undergraduates and people who want to be doctors.

“So, that’s the plan,” Seokmin says with a bright smile on his face, “I think working in the Intensive Care Unit would be a blast you know, I thought about working with kids but that just breaks my heart.”

“And ICU doesn’t break your heart?” You ask taking a sip of your mocha, you two have been studying in the library for the past four hours you need a sugar pick-up.

“It kinda does,” his smiles falter, “but like, people in the ICU need someone to look after them you know, too much time in that bed, and people who don’t breathe on their own need special care.”

“Well,” you take another sip of your mocha and you almost spit the coffee when you finally notice Seokmin’s big eyes on you, “I think you can do it, you would be great at it.”

“Really?” his sounds so hopeful you want to say to him that yes, you can do everything you set your mind in to, you are that special.

“Yes, I think you would be great,” you will be great at everything, “besides, dealing with kid is fine but dealing with their parents sounds like a nightmare,” you groan.

Seokmin laughs so loud you swear it fills all the empty space in the café, there is no corner where he isn’t. There is no place in your soul he hasn’t touched. You are so doomed, that this crush will kill you.

'Cause while you're wolfing down liquor My soul, it gets sicker But I'm sticking to the screenplay Gotta say I'm okay

[Year six]

You try one more time. Your dial the number again hoping your boyfriend picks up because it is fucking cold outside and because you are afraid he is fucking dead in a ditch somewhere.

After the third ring a voice that is very much not your boyfriend’s pick up.

“Hey,” Jeonghan says and he sounds so fucking guilty you don’t know how to make up your mind.

“Something happened?”

“No?”

“Jeonghan what is going on?”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing happened?” You look around the train station, and it is almost empty.

“I mean your boyfriend is wasted and can’t pick up his phone and this call woke me up and I was having a great night of sleep you know how I am I don’t get enough sleep so nothing beyond that I don’t even know why his phone is so loud-“

“Because he was supposed to pick me up,” you say breathing loudly holding your backpack up and walking towards the nearest exit.

“Pick you up?“

“Yes, it is my week, but I guess he can’t pick me up so if you just stay awake until I arrive it would be great, or hide the keys somewhere I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Jeonghan mumbles and you can hear that he is moving around, “do you want me to wake him up?”

“No,” you say already singling for a taxi. It feels like you just ate a bone that is now sitting in your throat, “no, don’t wake him up, I just don’t have anywhere else to go so-“

“No, of course, I will wait for you don’t worry.”

But answer this, babe

How is it now that somehow you're a strangеr? You were mine just yеsterday

[Year eight]

It is Jeonghan’s birthday.

It is Jeonghan’s birthday and you are in town because there is this global climate event in the same week. It is Jeonghan’s birthday and he knows you are in town because you are one of the panelists and the event shared a post on your Instagram. It is Jeonghan’s birthday and you are entering his birthday party and you can feel your brain almost leak through your ears.

And like fate is against you – because it is, fate hates you – you see Seokmin before you ever see Jeonghan. His eyes meet yours and he almost doubles check, and before he pretends you are a ghost of his past life Jeonghan screams your name and makes you enter the restaurant when you want to just walk through the door.

“You really came,” Jeonghan says, “I was about to crash your event and say fossil fuel is a good thing until they let me talk to you.”

“Yeah,” you say making yourself smile, “that’s why I came I don’t think someone claiming to be a nepo baby with Shell company trust fund in his name would help my career.”

“A man needs to do what he needs to do to make a woman appear,” Jeonghan says wisely.

Jeonghan introduces you to his friends, a few new ones that you have no idea where they met – a weird guy named Hoshi, a tall lanky guy in black who goes by Wonwoo, a broad guy with dimples that is complaining about the restaurant service that is named Seungcheol. A few old ones that you once knew, Vernon still the same you think – sometimes too lost in himself, but always too sweet, Seokmin – not the same you think, Seokmin is the one on this table that you don’t have idea who this person is. Seokmin, you think, is a stranger to you now, after a year or two, you no nothing about him. You don’t know his schedule, you don’t know about the last restaurant he got addicted to, you don’t know what is going on his life.

I prayed the block in my airway dissipates And instead deters your airplane's way But heaven denied Destiny decried Something beautiful died Too soon

[Year Six]

“It is really important to me,” Seokmin says his voice muffled on the phone. You stare at his picture on the screen – his big smile, his eyes scrunched, his hair all over the place.

“So you are not coming this week?”

“Can we skip? I can go in two weeks so you don’t have to come I know how much you hate the train.”

“I don’t hate the train,” you grumble, “is just the hours don’t match up so I have to wait for the last train, and then is not always great to get a taxi at three am when all the taxi drivers might be potential fuckers.”

“I am sorry ok?” Seokmin breathes and you almost bite your own tongue, “why can’t you let it go?”

Because I am still angry, you want to say but you are so fucking tired of those fights, maybe that’s why you are still angry because it is always over the phone, never in person, he never sees the aftermath of it. He never sees you suffering.

“I mean, whatever works for you, really, this week, in two weeks, if you don’t want to come this month it is also great like it is already august maybe we should save it till Christmas, it is not a big deal.”

You leash it out before you hang up on his face.

But I'm letting go I'm giving up the ghost But don't get me wrong I'll always love you

[Year one]

It is your third or fourth time on Seokmin’s bed, under his sheets. There is a layer of sweat between your body but is not like you two care. Your fingers drawn little constellations in his skin, trailing against his spots. One in the middle of his chest, one in his ribs, one in his collar bones. You want to know every single one, you want to create a path – a route. Thinking that maybe, if you remember every single one of them, if you know where to turn, you will always find home. Home, the one on his cheeks, your favorite one.

“You know I love you right?” Seokmin asks his hand on your nape.

Your breath hitches. Stuck on your lungs. Yes, you think. And I love you just as much, I love you so much that the mere idea of not loving you seems unfathomable, I love you so much that I forgot who I was before loving you. But kissing him is easier, and when his lips are on yours you pray for all the gods to make him understand every unspoken word.

That's why I wrote you this very last song I guess this is where we say goodbye I know I'll be alright Someday I'll be fine But just not tonight (oh)

[Year two]

“You know you are my favorite person in the world, right?” You ask your boyfriend who just gives you a bright smile.

He is sitting by your side in the living room of his shared apartment, it is February and it is the middle of the semester, and yet, Seokmin proudly told you that he got his greatest gift ever – a weekend without his roommates and a week off dishes duty. There is a cake – small, strawberry, with candles on it, on the table and you two are waiting for the clock to hit twelve o’clock so you two can celebrate his birth.

“No,” he says, a pout on his face, “I really have no idea, you don’t tell me enough.”

“That’s not the truth,” you grumble, and you think it might be the truth because you are not really good with words but you are sure that your boyfriend is just overreacting.

“Come on, tell me.” He says while he kisses your cheeks, “it is my birthday you can’t tell me no.”

“It is not your birthday yet.”

“Come on,” he pouts again, “please? As a birthday gift.”

“I already brought your gift and it is better than this.”

“Nothing is better than hearing you saying I am your favorite person ever,” he says his hands on your waist, his leg flushed on your back when he sits facing the side of your face.

He sounds so earnest that you give him what he wants, just because it is his birthday, just because it is a special day. “I love you, you are the most special person ever, every day I thank your mother before I go to bed because she put the most special guy in the world and even though it is your birthday I am the one that received the most special gift that is sharing my life with you, and every day is a bless with you baby,” you say watching his smile grows bigger, “happy?”

“The happiest,” he tells you.

“Come on, we need to light the candles,” you say watching the clock hit.

Plunging into all kinds of diversions Like blush wine and sonorous soirées But even with gin and surgin' adrenaline I see you're all that can intoxicate

[Year seven]

“It is weird, isn’t it?” Seokmin’s voice rings in your ears while you look through the window of the restaurant, watching the car dance on the street under the moonlight.

“What?” You ask and it sounds inaudible even to your own ears, your voice small like you are hoping he is not talking to you.

“Us,” Seokmin says like he still believes in this world there is an us, “in the same place like this, is weird, I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“Hm”, you hum trying to say something and not being incredibly bitchy about everything because you are the one that doesn’t belong, Seokmin is always here, you are the one who isn’t. Jeonghan is more his friend than yours, “I think it is bound to be weird, I think it would be worse if we acted like nothing happened.”

“Right,” he says taking one more sip of his beer.

You almost laugh. Maybe you still know Seokmin because when his eyes lock in yours again you know that you said the very same thing he didn’t want to hear.

It feels like you are polar opposites.

Oceans and engines You're skilled at infringin' on great love affairs 'Cause now my heart's home All I've known is long gone and ten thousand miles away And I'm not okay

[Year six]

When your phone rings for the third time Seokmin’s photo lights up the whole room. Your tears feel cold against your face. And you take another sip of your cheap and all not that great wine. It has been three days since you spoke with Seokmin, but it is the first day that you can cry and break down and suffer.

It was a dick fucking move. He broke up with you over a phone call. Dick move. Worse, he broke up with you over a phone call in the worst week ever – finals week. You had three articles due – one on authoritarian governments, one on gender studies and political participation of women, and one on fossil fuel and climate policies. You had already brought a train ticket. You have already chosen a restaurant to celebrate surviving the first year of going long distance.

You gulp down another sip of your wine, maybe you should drink from the bottle.

You told him that going long distance was insane. You told him it would never work out. It was a three hours train ride he said. You two could make it work he said, you two could conquer all he said. And he broke up with you over a phone call – not even a video call, a phone call like people did in the 90s. A phone call to tell you that it was too hard, that it was too complicated, that he was tired and you too were fighting too much.

A phone call to tell you that maybe this isn’t working.

But I'm letting go I'm giving up the ghost But don't get me wrong I'll always love you that's why I wrote you this very last song I guess this is where we say goodbye I know I'll be alright But just not

[Year seven]

You are explaining Wonwoo – a soon-to-be cardiologist, and Vernon – still unsure about his future but maybe psychiatry, what a carbon footprint is. And how capitalism will lead the earth to its collapse. Small talk. Seungcheol don’t really knows how the world will work if capitalism is dethroned as the only one system in the world that even worked – according to himself. Everything is ok. Is not at all great because you can physically feel Seokmin’s eyes on you, until he gets up the table and acts like he is not interrupting the table’s conversation;

“Hey, can we talk?”

You look around waiting for someone say sure and get up the table until every eye is on you. No, we can’t fucking talk, you want to bite. No, I don’t ever want to talk to you, I actually prefer smack my head against every surface on this place before talking to you, you want to say. But instead, you just say “Sure.”  

You follow Seokmin’s steps until the two of you cross the streets and sit in a bench. He sits staring at the sea, his shoes on the sand and you ask yourself if you want to get your shoes full of sand or ruin them. The answer is no. But facing the opposite way – the streets, the restaurant, facing Jeonghan sitting in the restaurant with his neck strained to watch your every move is not an option. So you take your shoes off before sitting on his side.

“What are we doing?” Seokmin asks when you finally sit. He is still looking forward, and you don’t know if it is the moon, if it is longing, if it still the love buried under your chest, but he still looks good. His nose still big and straight, his lips still full, his eyes so clear.

“I don’t know,” you tell him.

“No, really what we are doing?” He asks you finally looking at you and it hits you like a truck.

“I really don’t know Seokmin,” You tell him, “I don’t have a fucking clue, for the past year or so I don’t know what I am doing with my own life, let alone what I am doing right now, talking with my fucking ex on a fucking beach in a city we have never been on,” you say and you know you sound bitter but with the years you learned it was always better to tell him everything than to bite down your tongue.

“That bad hun?” He says taking a sip of his bear.

“The worst,” you look at him again, his eyes on the sea.

“It hadn’t been great either,” he says blinking slowly, his eyes still bright as the moon, “I mean, on my side, it hadn’t been great either.”

“I am sorry,” it is your time to look at the sea – so vast, so big, so dark, “I am really sorry, but half of it might be my prayers to the gods.”

You hear Seokmin chuckle, it is bitter and you hate it. You miss him so much that you will pray for the gods again – to erase him from your mind, to make your heart go back to its normal state and size, to make you go to yourself before Seokmin has laid his finger on you.

“Well,” Seokmin offers you his beer, “I can’t say I wasn’t angry either, we are a piece of work, aren’t we?”

We, it rings on your ears, we, us, does these pronouns even make sense to be used when the subject is Seokmin and you? In your vain hope, you say it doesn’t you say it can’t be used. You want to make a new grammar rule. You want to create an exception. When, Seokmin and you, are in the picture the pronouns we and us cannot be used, and if you are being bitter mine and my as well as ours are forbidden.

But you are afraid that will always be something you used to share in this life.

“What the fuck are we doing right now Seokmin?” Is your time to ask.

“I don’t have a fucking idea,” he says, “I just hate how things end up with us I guess, I really thought we were it you know,” his feet press on the sand making the tip of his shoes go under it, “I really thought we would make it through everything, and I hate myself that we didn’t, and this past year has been hell.” He chuckles the bitter sound again, how can a laugh be so fucking humorless?

“It was me,” he looks at you face all serious, stern, all hard angles and pointy shapes, “it was me who saw that you would be in town, I have been keeping tabs, fuck I even call your mom every week and I’m pretty sure she pitties me which is fucking insane because she could just tell me not to call but she tells me what is going on, she sent me pics of your brother’s kid and I know he would be pissed at that because I know he hates my guts,” when you feel the tears drip down your chest you know it is too late.

Tonight was the first time I stared into seas of beguiling sepia two years ago And the first time I learned real world superpowers lived in three words, they revitalize my fraying bones Now what do you do when your pillar crumbled down You've lost all solid ground Both dreams and demons drowned

[Year three]

“We can pick the same schools,” Seokmin says while doing the only thing you hate – chewing his food way too loudly.

“Right, because our dream programs happen to be in the same university,” you say picking up a new slice of your side of the pizza – chicken, he hates it. Seokmin’s half is pepperoni, which you always steal a slice because you love pepperoni, and you love chicken, you love all types of pizza that don’t include fruit.

“I mean,” he puts down his slice when he opens his mouth to have another bite when you give him the most furious look ever. “Sorry,” he says his voice small, “We can try all the universities in the region?  Of course, we have our dream picks, and okay we don’t really need to give up on that if we get in, but we can try more options just to be sure and try to get into programs in the same regions?”

“What if we get into our number one pick and we are like ten hours away?” You ask breathing deeply. It hurts just to think about it. It feels like the ceiling is too low and it is crushing your spine.

“A lot of phone calls,” Seokmin says, mouth fool of pizza again, “I think we can ask Jeonghan a loan or two. He can be our Shark, his interest rates might include a lung or a kidney, he may ask for a brain to train for his surgeries, but I mean it will be worth it.”

And this void's all you've found And doubts light it aglow I have so many questions But I'm pouring them into the ocean And I'm starting up my engine

[Year one]

The first time Seokmin kissed you was in Jeonghan’s kitchen.

You think the sink is full, and there are more cups on the kitchen table than people in his house, but nothing really matters when Seokmin’s lips find yours and you can feel his lips stretching out on a smile.

“Can we get the hell out of here?” Seokmin asks, his body pressing yours against a wall, his hand on your waist and neck and why you want to ask him, why you want to leave? Right here is perfect there is no other place I rather be.

“We can go to my place,” he says, his lips kissing the skin where your neck and shoulder met, “I mean all the boys are right here so we can have the apartment to ourselves.”

“Right now?” You ask but really what you want to say is Right now? Move? Getting out of your embrace? Stopping this?

“Yeah, it is like three blocks away,” Seokmin chuckles and you ask yourself if you said all that out loud.

“Okay,” you say, your hand getting under the collar of his shirt and touching his back – your hand trying to touch more of his skin, maybe if you spread your fingers you can touch more of his.

And I'm letting go I'm givin' up your ghost It's come to a close I marked the end with this last song I wrote I'm letting go This is the last falsetto I'll ever sing to you My great lost love

[Year seven]

You know it is a mistake.

And you know you would do this mistake over and over again when you smell his sheets. He still uses the same fabric softener. He still uses the same cologne. He still is the Seokmin that you used to know, the Seokmin you once loved. He is still the same.

The problem is that you don’t know if you are.

You don’t know if you are the same person that he once loved.

“What are you thinking?” He asks in your ear, low. You love his voice, still the same. His thumb traces over your lips.

You trace his mole with your finger – heart, ribcage, collarbones. Home. How can home be so far away? How can be home a place you cannot return?

“What is going on in your mind?” He asks again, his legs interwind with yours, his hand splayed on your back.

That we fucked up, you want to say, that we shouldn’t have done this, is the other option, that I will cry all over again, that I will ache in all the places that I thought I’ve healed, that I will miss you all the same, that I am back on square one. That I don’t know if I can ever love someone like I loved you, like I still love you, like I will love you. That I will carry this love till I die because you were once a part of my life and it will always have a before and after you in my life. That now I am thinking about taking you to meet my niece, I want to see her grow on your side, I want you in my life and this last year has been unbearable, I think death will be kinder and softer than this year has been. You want to say all that but you don’t think you can do so without crying.

[kyleraynermybeloved]

One Of A Kind -Chapter Two

Pairing: Kyle Rayner x Batsis!Reader

Summary: A surprise is discovered. Is it terrifying? Absolutely!

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of morning sickness, pregnancy, canon-level violence, my bad writing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I'm very late but HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! Its FINALLY here, and guess who has covid! Sorry it took ages to arrive. If the pacing feels a bit off it's bc I wrote this a little drunk a while ago. (I did end up misplacing it and i finally found it so no proof read, we die like heroes) I hope yall enjoy this, if not then I'm sorry :/ ALSO, this is going to be the last short chapter of the series so expect the others to be a little longer from now on!

OOAK Masterlist

The overwhelming nausea woke you up, and you barely made it to the toilet before the contents of your stomach emptied out. You heaved some more, your body shaking from the force after each one. The bile in your mouth was enough to make you wince and spit into the toilet hoping to get rid of the taste.

Groaning, you set your head against the cold seat as the dizziness subsided a little. It was just the wake up call you needed before heading back to work. It seems the few days you had off were too short of time to readjust to your normal routine. You might as well get ready now that you’re up.

You were too busy leaving in a hurry to say bye to Billy once you checked the time, effectively running late. Hopefully you'd have time to check in with him later to see if he was faring the same. You had felt sick the entire time getting ready upon arriving on base, your stomach churning uncomfortably with unease. It might have been the food and drinks from last night or the winter air doing a number on you. For now, you shrugged it off to the best of your abilities.

There were plenty of other agents walking around when you arrived at the tarmac. A few faces you haven’t seen before looked towards you as you made your way to the chopper Sormael had instructed you to from this morning's message. They might’ve been the new hires you heard about coming in the other day. Deciding to put on a friendly face, you smiled and waved towards them as you continued walking.

“Thrasher! About time you made it, what happened to always being on time?” Sormael engulfed you in a hug, giving a firm little shake before breaking away.

“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t feeling all too well this morning and that seemed to cut into my arrival time. Won’t happen again, unless the husband has a say in it.”

“They do love to make things a little more interesting don’t you think? Are you feeling better, or do I need you to sit this one out? I have Zeru on standby seven klicks out from the target site.”

“Negative, sir. I’m much better now, only needed some fresh air and to see your wonderful face,” You bumped his shoulder against yours, sending him a lopsided grin. A gesture you’ve done countless times to let him know you were fine.

There was no chance in hell you would let Zeru, a colleague you’ve been competing against, take this job just because you felt a little sick. The two of you had an ongoing bet to see who could get more jobs done in the span of eight months, the loser had to buy the winner dinner for three weeks. And the eighth month was now coming to a close, you had one job on him but it was only a matter of time before he caught up.

“Alright, well, here’s everything you need to know,”  Sormael handed you a folder that was banded shut. “It’s a covert mission, a simple extraction job. Retrieve the data and get to the rendezvous point for further instructions. Like usual, you’ll have a ride there but you’ll need to find a way back to ensure no one can link you back here. Stay safe, the roads are freezing over. Do whatever you need to get back to us.”

“Always am.” Nodding your head in affirmation you turn to the awaiting helicopter. The snowfall began to pick up causing you to pull your coat closer to fight against the bitter cold. Harsh snowflakes pelted against your face once you got to the aircraft door. The aircraft shielded you from the oncoming storm once you got inside, sliding the door shut and getting situated in your seat.

“Morning, Agent Thrasher. Our eta is four hours, I would catch more sleep if I were you.” The pilot you recognized from previous assignments spoke through the headset. Giving him a half-assed response you went to look at the contents of the folder.

It was a fairly light folder, flipping through the papers and memorizing everything  given. Information on the building’s layout and number of personale working. Only select people had access to the server room which was located on the fifth floor, third room on the right. Attached to the last page was a small flash drive still wrapped in the package.

The nausea had finally settled down, giving you a break for the time being. But you had a sneaking suspicion that it would come back. If that was the case you'd have to make this quick.

You sent Kyle a brief text, letting him know of your whereabouts for the next few hours and decided against telling him of your sickness from the morning.

The sun had peaked through the clouds once you were high enough in airspace, warming you up from the chilly temperature. It was odd that you were cold for this long, your body had gotten used to adapting to the different temperatures over the years of constant traveling in different climates. Pulling your thick coat impossibly closer you thought it best to reserve your energy and get some sleep while you still had time.

*****

You had everything under control, the mission was going smoothly. Entering the building and getting into the server room had gone seamlessly. The flash drive had all the needed information and the only thing left was your escape.

The earpiece you had in your ear was patched into a secure channel only the rendezvous team had access to. It was silent for now.

Normally, you would have to reach out first once in range of any rendezvous point or an appointed team member would reach out if you’ve been dark for too long.

You had carefully tucked the flash drive into a secure pocket, adjusting to make sure it was unnoticeable. The uniform you had acquired once getting into the lobby at the beginning of the mission had been doing its job perfectly as a disguise. No one was the wiser when you had gone in and when exiting the server room, the door locked after shutting closed.

Keeping your head down you walked through the hallway successfully keeping attention off of you. Turning around the corner to the stairwell, you quickly descended down the flight of stairs only passing by two people as they left through the door you just went through.

After reaching the second level another wave of nausea washed over you making you unsteady. Not again, you could only do so much while your whole world was spinning. The stale air wasn’t helping at all either. It made everything feel more restricted and claustrophobic.

You carefully walked down the remaining steps to the floor level, supporting most of your weight on the railing and wall so as to not stumble down. The more you had turned the corners of the staircase the harder it got to keep your composure. There was only one more turn before the ground floor, deciding it would be best to take a breather once you were far enough away from the building, you pushed on. Finally leaving the stairwell and taking the closest exit towards you welcomed the fresh winter air, inhaling deep breaths as it helped ease the bile that was threatening to come up long enough to make it past the parking lot to a lone car where you had stashed your things.

You shed the uniform changing into the spare outfit you had packed in the warmth of the car. Digging through your bag you found something to ease the nausea for the time being until you could take something once you got home. For now, you just hoped it would work.

Little flecks of snow slowly drifted down, dark clouds were filling up the bright sky. You drove until you were three miles out from the rendezvous point, hidden well enough to not stick out to oncomers, after concealing the car  and wiping it down of any prints left you grabbed your bag and walked the remaining way there.

As soon as you made it inside the hidden cabin and debriefed with the team after handing over the flash drive, you threw a few more logs into the dwindling flames of the fireplace to heat the small cabin up.

Your hands felt like icicles and your legs had gone numb a mile into the journey. The layers you’d put on did very little to help maintain heat.

The team informed you before they departed that the cabin was yours for the time being, well at least until after you leave before the cleaning crew arrives.

Knowing you had enough time to shower and change into more comfortable clothing made you physically relax, letting out a content sigh.

Thinking now was a good enough time to check your phone, possibly give Billy a call. If he was fairing as badly as you were then you definitely needed to apologize for possibly getting him sick.

“Billy speaking, what’s up?” He answered on the second ring, judging from the noise in the background he must’ve been home.

“Hey kid, glad I managed to reach you. Sounds like you’re home, did you make it back safely and in one piece?” Shifting the phone to hold it with your shoulder, you were able to take out an outfit and some essentials into the bathroom.

“Oh, yeah I made it back just a little after you left. I was gonna say something but you left in a hurry and I didn’t want to keep you back any later than you had to.” That seemed about right. Both you and Kyle had told him on many occasions that he didn’t need to keep things to himself, whatever it was that he needed the both of you would pause what you were doing and give him your undivided attention.

“No worries, next time go ahead and ask me to stay back a little. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask how you’re feeling? I’m feeling a little under the weather, it might’ve been the food from last night.”

“You know how I get, I just didn’t want to bother you too much. And I feel fine, if you want we can head over and bring you some soup or something?” There was a muffled sound on the line before he spoke up again. “Hey, I got to go. Keep me updated though, I think we’ll head over later today, if not tomorrow. See you later.”

“Will do, see you later kid.”

Well that was interesting. What else could be making you sick if not the food? At least he wasn’t under the weather, that made you feel better knowing you didn’t get him sick as well.

A ding from your phone pulled you out from your thoughts. It was a message from Kyle saying he was back on Earth. You sent a reply of your location and asked if he could bring a thermometer and cold medicine before hopping into the shower.

The water pressure wasn’t great but it also wasn’t the worst you had. It came out in soft bursts, fortunately the shower head was large so it covered more than a small area. The water did wonders for your aching muscles, which had been unusually sore and stiff for the past few weeks. You knew it couldn’t have been from either of the previous assignments you were on. Or for this one as a matter of fact.

At some point you must’ve dozed off, still on your feet. Deciding it was better to get out and get some actual rest without any incoming injuries, you turned off the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. Kyle would be on his way soon, in the meantime you could busy yourself getting ready and warming up on the couch in front of the fireplace.

By the time Kyle came around you were passed out.

“Hey sleepy, I wasn’t sure what to get so I bought whatever I could find. I also brought some soup from your favorite place, it should still be hot.” Kyle helped ease you up to sit on the couch, you must’ve laid d0wn while you were sleeping. 

“Oh, hi,” you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with a smile. “How long have you been here?”

He put a hand to your forehead, “Long enough to know you were tossing and turning for a while. On the bright side you don’t have a temperature but better safe than sorry, take this.” He handed you a water bottle and two tylenol from one of the two bags he had, which you gladly accepted and took.

Once you finished your water Kyle traded it for a container of soup. It was still hot enough to warm you up. He plopped down next to you with his own food, digging in once he knew you could eat fully on your own.

“Thank you, I think the soup is helping me some. How are the fellas doing? Causing more chaos for the team I assume?”

“Oh you know it, nothing but the best from Guy. I also may have enabled him… just a little bit.” his smile had a hint of mischief with the knowing look he gave you.

“Of course, babe,” you nudged him with your shoulder, “ ‘Just a little bit’ my ass. You totally orchestrated whatever it was. I feel bad for the poor soul who was on the receiving end of you two maniacs.”

He threw his head back in a laugh. “You know me so well. It wasn’t too bad this time, I swear. Oh, I forgot. Before I left you said you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Ah, you had completely forgotten about that. You tried racking your brain for the right words to explain this best. After five years together it was kind of hard to just come out and say you had been lying to him all that time about yourself. Well, in a way you weren’t lying, just always avoiding mentoning your past and family.

“Uhm,” your hands clasped together in your lap as you leaned forward, “You know how I aoid talking about my past with you or brush it off when you ask me about it?”

He put his food down to give you his full attention, motioning for you to continue once he sat back, grabbing one of your hands in reassurance.

“Gosh this is hard, uhm. I want you to know that I didnt tell you because I don’t trust you, more because I was scared to tell you. I guess the best way is to rip the bandaid off. But more or less I was… Batman’s daughter, this was years ago of course. I don’t actually know if he told anyone in the league about me since I wasn’t one of the many side-kicks.”

“I think I remember Alfred having some photos of when you were young laying around the mansion when I lived there for a bit, I asked them about it but no one really said anything. Figured it was a sore subject. Im going to be honest, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t tell me sooner but I understand having moments of the past haunting you.”

“There’s more I would like to tell you,” I pulled him towards me more, “But I’d rather tell you once we get home. How about we head over once we’re done eating?”

“No problem, eat as much as you can and we'll take the leftovers with us.” Kyle grabbed his container and gestured at you to eat with a forkful halfway to his mouth.

*****

It had been two weeks later when you decided to see your agency’s doctor to check out your recent sickness. You had been expecting a stomach bug, or the flu, the last thing you expected was finding out you were ten weeks pregnant. Ten weeks. Kyle, who went with you almost and passed out from the news, was still taking his time processing everything you told him, rightfully so. The two of you were sent home with congratulations and several pictures of your growing bean. It had felt too surreal, and overwhelming.

All that happened three days ago, now you and Kyle were just entering your apartment after buying some pregnancy essentials for you when a noise from the kitchen alerted you of an intruder. You reached for your sheathed knives, usually strapped to your thighs, out of reflex before Kyle stopped you, rushing forward with the bat you normally kept by the front door.

“Fuck man, I could killed you!” Kyle’s alarmed voice steadied your racing heart after realizing it was someone he knew. You slowly made your way to the kitchen, their muffled voices getting clear the further you walked down te hallway. One being Kyle’s and the other you now recognized to be Guy Gardner, who you haven’t actually met but have seen through videos either of your boys have shown you.

“You’re brave for knocking up Batman’s long lost daughter,” Guy pointed to the ultrasound photo pinned on the fridge. “I don’t envy you one bit man. And you must be the lovely wife. Guy Gardner, great to finally meet the mysterious lady Rayner’s been hiding from me.”

“How’d you know we’re married?” Kyle looked alarmed and confused.

“Well, you do have your wedding pictures laying ‘round the place.” He pointed out to the living room where the photos had been conveniently placed on the coffee table.

With a sigh and shake of your head, you held out your hand to Guy. “Y/N Rayner, pleased to finally meet this doofus’ best friend he speaks highly of.”

Taglist:

@esposadomd

[conivolos]

hey look a mounders fic

i wrote this before ep 2 came out so its not canon compliant for it. hope you enjoy:)

ao3 link

-----

Your secret is…

Pearl sucks in a breath, lowering her pickaxe from the vein of iron she was mining.

3… 

The secrets had been at the back of her mind since this session had started.

2… 

And the allure of having proper armour and tools had gotten her to staircase down almost immediately.

1…

The book rests safely in her hands, and the sound of a creeper sizzle reaches her ears.

She throws up her shield just in time, almost dropping the book in the process. It blocks the creeper for the most part, the resounding explosion only managing singe the tips of her hair.

“Okay, this isn’t safe,” she says, turning around before any more mobs can clamber their way over to her. She hastily knocks a hole into the cave wall and boxes herself in, torch in hand, book clutched to her chest.

Pearl leans her back against the wall, closing her eyes and taking a couple steadying breaths, the fire of the torch flickering with the intensity of them.

After a beat or two, she huffs, releasing her hold on the book slightly, “Better get this over and done with,” she murmurs, taking one final breath and opening the book.

Get at least three people to stay within five blocks of each other for six minutes.

Pearl frowns at the page.  It's a harder task than last week, but that's at least to be expected.

And, well, she does know at least three other people. Two of which are Mumbo and Bdubs, her dear friends who conveniently live beside her.

Keeping the time might be a bit tricky, but Bdubs surely has a clock at this point, either gifted or crafted, so that'll make it a bit easier.

Pearl grins, stuffing the book into her jacket pocket, an idea steadily forming in her mind; it should be easy enough.

She takes out her pick again and busts through the cave wall, hightailing it back to the stripmine before the shadows throw any more mobs at her.

She barely has time to shake out dust and bits of rock from her hair before Mailbox jumps up to greet her, running over from where he was told to sit and eagerly circling her legs, tail wagging. Pearl smiles, patting his head and scratching behind his ears.

They make their way out of Pearl’s mound and across the plains, and Pearl casts a weary glare to the storm clouds gathering somewhere in the badlands, and, thumbing the book in her pocket, hops up to Mumbo’s mound, Mailbox at her heels.

As silently as she can, she flicks up his chimney trapdoor and crawls in, Mailbox scrunching up behind her.

Mumbo’s back is to them when Pearl spots him, intently reading what's probably his secret, scratching at his head.

“You reading your secret, Mumbo?” Pearl asks after a second, resting her head on a hand, and resisting the urge to kick her feet.

Mumbo jumps about sky-high, and Pearl swears he almost hits his head on his wall, whipping around to look at her, only to miss completely and stare out his windows in bewilderment, snapping his book shut. “Pearl?” he asks, “Where are you?!”

Pearl cackles and shimmies a bit further into his house, just enough so that Mumbo can properly see her face. And Mailbox apparently takes this as an opportunity to try to squeeze his way past Pearl, only to get stuck pretty much immediately, giving up with a huff and tucking his face into the crook of her elbow.

Pearl blinks at him, then turns back to Mumbo, who’s looking less confused and more giggly. 

Pearl grins, “Whatcha up to Mumbo?”

Mumbo gives a shaky laugh, “Can’t tell ya, it's a secret. You know this, Pearl!”

Pearl sticks out her tongue at him, and Mailbox does the same. “Mumbo. I have an idea.” Pearl starts and Mumbo raises an eyebrow. “We should go cloud watching before the rain gets here.”

Mumbo glances out his window at, Pearl guesses, distant rolling thunder clouds, if she correctly remembers where badlands is from here.

“Bit of an odd thing for you to suggest, huh Pearl?” he says, turning back to her, voice close to laughter. “Is this part of your task?” 

Pearl sputters. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Mumbo,” she shoots back, steadfastly dismissing the panic that rises up in her chest.

“If we’re going cloud watching, let's at least try to get Bdubs in on it too,” he says, attempting to shoe her out of the chimney.

“That's the plan!” Pearl says, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She crawls back out of the chimney and grabs tight to Mumbo’s hand as soon as she can, pulling him along to Bdubs’.

Pearl hops up to Bdubs’ doorstep, Mumbo trailing behind her. “Bdubs!!!” she shouts, knocking loudly on his trapdoor door.

There's the prolonged sounds of Bdubs shouting in surprise, and some clattering before it goes silent once more.

“Oh my goodness.” Mumbo laughs into his hand.

“Bdubs! You’re on your roof!”

Bdubs makes some more grumbling sounds before he appears, leaning over the cobble foundation to glare at his neighbours, mostly Pearl, Mumbo not so much. “Yes, yes. What do you want?” he snaps.

“We’re going to go cloud watching before the storm gets here,” she explains, gesturing over to the badlands, “Mumbo and I thought you’d like to join us!”

“Yeah, Bdubs, come stare at the sky with us.” Mumbo adds.

Bdubs’ frown intensifies before it lets up, although his eyes narrow in suspicion, “...Alright, I'll come with you.”

Pearl whoops as Bdubs clambers down, who lands with a thud on the granite. Pearl grabs his hand without hesitation, pulling the both of them along, and Mailbox bounds happily after them.

They stumble down Bdubs’ mound, evidently getting close to taking possible hearts of damage at Mumbo and Bdubs’ loud protests, but Pearl remains indifferent.

Pearl drags them up onto her mound and unceremoniously flops onto the grass, pulling the both of them down with her. They both yelp as they fall, and Bdubs glares at Pearl, who only giggles, while Mumbo winces and rubs at the back of his head.

Mailbox trudges over them all, making them wheeze, before he settles begrudgingly next to Pearl.

“So…” Mumbo starts after a moment, leaning back into the grass, “We just look at the clouds and say what we think they look like?”

Pearl nods, a hand resting on Mailbox’s head, “Yup!”

They laugh and do just that, Pearl’s task slowly drifting out of her mind as she goofs off with her two friends and—oh god, she counts as a person too, right? 

Pearl's eyes widen, oblivious to whatever Mumbo and Bdubs are chatting about. Her whole entire plan is thrown out the window if They don’t count her as one of the people—

“What’re you guys doing?”

“Hey, Joel!” Bdubs says, while Mumbo raises a hand in greeting.

“We’re doing some lovely cloud watching!” Pearl answers, putting on a fake smile, and feeling more than seeing as Mailbox jumps up to bother Joel, and Joel gives her an unimpressed look, absently scratching Mailbox behind the ears.

“Pearl forced us to do it.” Bdubs blurts out, and Mumbo chokes out a laugh.

“I didn’t force ya to do anything!” Pearl defends.

“Sit down with us, Joel,” Mumbo says over the sounds of his neighbours’ bickering, patting the patch of grass next to him.

“For Pearl’s sake,” Bdubs adds after a beat.

“Hey.”

Joel snorts, “No thanks.”

Pearl sucks in a breath and tries valiantly to pretend that she didn’t.

And, luckily he lingers for a while more, and Pearl tries her hardest to not look too desperate. Joel shuffles his feet before relenting, silently and abruptly going to lie down next to Mumbo.

Pearl feels a wave of relief wash over her, letting out a soft sigh. Bdubs casts her a strange look and she simply sticks out her tongue at him.

A soft breeze washes over them, it flits through the grass, tousling their clothes and hair, bringing with it the wispy smell of rain. Mailbox tries to take a bite out of it, and they all huff a laugh at that.

“That one looks like a heart,” Pearl says eventually, breaking the soft silence, pointing up to a cloud that, truthfully, doesn't look all that much like a heart. More like a smashed apple.

“I see a clock,” Bdubs declares, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

“Spyglass and… an end crystal?” Mumbo adds, gesturing to another few and laughing, “goodness, these are some weird clouds.”

“A pack of dogs,” Joel says and Pearl agrees, although he doesn’t see the tower next to them.

“Hey, these ones look just like us,” Pearl points out. The four bits of cloud, one larger than the rest, and two of the smaller ones with box-like shapes atop them, do, in fact, look like their retrospective counterparts.

They keep pointing out shapes in the clouds, and Pearl waits until she knows it's been more than six minutes, until shes pushing ten.

She could run over to the secret keeper without giving an explanation, cackling all the while, and it would be worth it just to see the looks on her friends’ faces.

Or, she could just stay. Stay with her friends lying next to her in the grass. Stay with Mailbox sleeping in between them. Stay with grass in her hair and a forgotten book in her jacket pocket.

Yeah, she smiles, the smell of rain whisking past them once more, Joel and Bdubs laugh at something Mumbo said. She reckons she’ll stay, at least for a while.

[chairofchaos]

A Brief Commentary on Fandom History, Fandom Weeks, and How to Keep Moving Forward

Before you decide to read this, please go read this thing I wrote earlier. You need the context. Done reading? No? Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, and definitely don't engage with this post. Go read it. You're done? Excellent! Please remember that I said absolutely nothing in the aforementioned post about commenting on current events. Also, this contains some swearing, in case that bugs you. Any text written in this font I'm using below the break is liable to be sarcastic (if you want clarification about something like that let me know!). Word count is about 3.8k. Shoutout to @/olderthannetfic, who wrote back to that anon who was talking about the clergy-class of Big Name Fans and said,

"Nail your theses to the door."

I think that sentiment applies here.  Kudos to you, wise fandom elder. You rock.

About the Author

To reiterate how I began my last post (linked above and for the love of all fandom, go read it), I have been involved in fandom spaces for 12 years, almost to the day. I had wonderful mentors who knew that were I left unchecked, I would fumble my way through a lot of very bad ideas about what fandom should be like. They decided out of love that if I was going to be in fandom, they were going to make me into the best little fandom child I could be.

If you do the math, I was 11 when I started getting involved. What can I say? It was a different decade and I had unrestricted internet access. Nobody was keeping me from my Harry Potter and Percy Jackson fanfics. All of this to say: I was raised here, and I'm going to scream in the living room while this house burns down around me because I'd rather be a ghost in fandom than not be in fandom at all.

I am going to say a lot of things in this post. Am I perfect? NO! Will this post hold errors? Undoubtedly. Will this post be tarnished by the inaccuracies of the resources and the biases of events recorded in secondary sources? Who knows. I'm sure some of you lived through the events I am referencing here. Your context and commentary is more than welcome. Will this help give us, the ACOTAR fandom, some context for why we all care so much? I hope so.

No, I don't actually. I have no faith in anyone, not even myself.

Thanks for that, Editorial Chaos. You're one pessimistic bitch. Oh, you're going to keep showing up in this post to annoy me, aren't you...

Yep. Back to it, Chaos.

Alright, then. Anyways, I have opinions. You have opinions. There's a 100% chance that we disagree on something. That's cool with me. So let's get to it.

Why Are We Talking About This?

Elaingate. We are here because of Elaingate, and I will not lie to you about that. You will briefly hear my thoughts on that specific issue further down the line.

To those of you who would suggest that Elaingate is over? I must disagree. 

You see, this one instance may be over, but the underlying debate continues. What should fandom look like? Who can participate, and with what content? What is allowed, and who gets to decide?

These questions have not been addressed. I am not, by any means, going to pretend to be an authority on this. I do, however, wish to contribute my many thoughts, and present some events from the history of fandom.

My hope in sharing this brief summary of notable events which shaped broader fan culture will help people newer to fandom (of all kinds) understand why something like an event which bans certain types of content, or content involving specific characters, as something to be concerned, or even angry, about.

Please consider this, my contribution to the discussion, as a form of academic inquiry with an opinion thread throughout. This is something I am throwing to the fandom for consideration. Do I get preachy? Absolutely I do. Do I stand by my thoughts? Yes. 

If you want to respond and tell me I’m dead wrong, by all means, do so. I welcome a reblog or a post in response. Let’s go back and forth, citing our sources like two exhausted researchers from different university departments, fighting over faerie smut books. I’ll eat up every second of it.

No, you won’t. You’re exhausted.

Really? Please stop.

Noooooooooooooooooo.

Are these old issues, or is this a new problem?

Welcome to the party! It's both as old as fandom itself, and as new as yesterday. ("Chaos, those can't both be true, can they?" Yes, they can!)

You see, there have always been issues within fandoms. People have disagreed about whether character A should end up with character B or character C for longer than any of us have been alive. Seriously. The Ancient Greeks were arguing about this stuff thousands and thousands of years ago. 

Source: my Greek Tragedy professor. And if you want to argue that point, you can take it up with him. He’s an ornery old German man who looked at me and told me I needed to do better on my tests in front of the entire class. I had a 98 overall, and the only grades we got were the tests.

Moving on: Dare I say, we are not special?

The real difference now is that the previously separate communities of fandom are coming together on platforms where systems for separating those branches of fandom do not exist in automatically available formats.

We face new issues because the wonderful world-wide web continues to grow wider and wider. We have more people on the internet than ever before. You interact with more people by participating in online fandom than a person would have 5-10 years ago, let alone before the internet, and that comes with new challenges.

So what, Chaos?

I'm glad you asked! On LiveJournal, you could join Communities. You can envision them as a Discord server centered around a specific ship or character. You could be automatically entered into a group of like-minded people, and never really have to interact with people who shipped Character A with Character B, if you wanted.

Another form of fanfic from the pre-internet through the early internet years of fandom days were Zines (In depth "what's that?" from Purdue University). In fandom, zines were edited, curated fanworks. They were numerous. Some were public, some were private. Some Zine editors stood up to Lucasfilm. Regardless, there was content moderation, whether by community members or by corporations themselves. We'll come back to this.

Does that mean I would never have had to interact with those evil A/B shippers when I ship B/C?

Hahahahahhahaha.

No. It doesn't. You still encountered people who disagreed with you. 

And there were slurs and threats involved. It could get real ugly.

Yeah. Be thankful we have good community guideline things on Tumblr, and a reporting process on AO3. I don't think anyone is going to try to hack your computer to get your IP address and dox you for shipping the "wrong" characters (and good grief: if you care that much or truly think that is an appropriate action, please stay far, far away from me).

You looked for the community where you fit best, and that's where you started following, and finding, and interacting. It's not all that different to what you can do here once you curate your individual experience.

Chaos, why does any of this matter? Why aren't you talking about current events?

Well, in the grand scheme of things, does anything matter?

Yes, newly-nihilistic Editorial Chaos. It really does matter.

It matters because it's our history. It's how we got here. Be grateful. As for current events, I’m not really here to give you an in-depth analysis of those, as there are other posts which do that. 

I’m here to talk about the underlying issue. To do that, we need some background. I promise you need all of this context for my proposal at the end. Feel free to skip what you already know, but please take this opportunity to learn something new today!

Why did Archive of Our Own come into being?

For my sources on this, I direct you to the original livejournal post which started it all (thank you @/astolat! You can find her on tumblr and AO3. She’s responsible for so many great things and I thank her for all of them) and the more in-depth Fanlore page on the original proposal for AO3, where you can find links to relevant issues surrounding the proposal’s creation and the result of the proposal. See? Not a nihilist, Chaos. I'm helping. Like I'm "supposed to." Ugh.

The long and short of this is that internet fanfiction communities were facing censorship from the hosting sites. LiveJournal and Fanfiction.net were getting worried about the legality and perceived morality of different kinds of fanfiction, and a new site was being created specifically to profit off of fanfiction. 

For the sake of this discussion, we are going to use the word "curation". LJ, FF.net, and others were intentionally curating the kind of content they would allow and would allow users to see and interact with, partly out of fear of lawsuits, and partly out of a desire to police morality. The cleaning processes they used to get rid of things they did not like were referred to as "purges."

In the purges, many sexually explicit fics were lost. We aren’t talking about something the average 2020s romantasy reader (that’s you, ACOTAR fan!) would necessarily shy away from. We’re largely talking about a level of explicit nature that mirrors the general content of ACOTAR. There were of course fics that were less explicit, and fics that were considerably more explicit. By my understanding, the bulk were things we now see in published work.

Many fics with LGBT natures were lost, because the crackdown on “morality” I mentioned? Yeah. That had a lot to do with LGBT issues. Others have written a lot more extensively and a lot more eloquently than I can on this subject, so I am going to leave it at that. Just know it was a very large issue, and if you want more on this feel free to do some research of your own!

So the problems were numerous. The solution was created. Now we have Archive of Our Own (AO3). (Am I saying that AO3 is perfect? No. That, like most things, is a whole other post.)

AO3 is an archive. It is a hosting site, but it went about it differently than fanfiction.net or livejournal, or most of the niche, fandom-specific sites. Very few of those actually exist anymore, but they were cool.

As an archive, AO3's role was to be a place where the fics that could not be on the other sites because of curation would go to be. Notable fics that were posted in the early days of Archive of Our Own were fics with incest (wincest started here! And don’t tell me AO3 didn’t want it because, well, the creators were the ones writing it, and yes, I have sources for that), brutal violence, and explicit sexual content, among other, much more SFW G-rated type fics. 

They all had a home on AO3, because AO3 was designed primarily for authors (see sources linked above for more). It is notably not a social media, because it is intended to store works (regardless of their content*) and not share them. (*This is mostly true. There have been some problems because of this, often in the realm of Real Person Fics, or RPF. Again, it's a whole other post, but bears repeating.)

Chaos, what on earth does that have to do with fandom [Character/Ship] Week(s)?

I'm overjoyed that you would ask me such a question! It has everything to do with it.

Since the internet has taken over as the primary fandom connector, we have seen a democratization of fandom. We no longer have Zine editors telling us what we can and cannot write. We are protected by AO3's careful non-profit model, ensuring that no one is profiting off of characters owned by other people or franchises.

It has been said that "every rule and regulation you work to enforce has been written in the blood of others." 

That is... overly dramatic.

You do remember we’re called ‘Chaos’ here, right?

Fair. Why do you insist on being so damn cheerful when you’re talking about rules written in blood?

I’m trying to keep it light, Editorial Chaos. Please just… shut up.

Fine.

AO3 exists largely because certain types of fanfiction were being excluded from fandom. People were upset at the purges. People were upset that they weren't being allowed to write work with characters being in LGBT relationships. People were upset that an LGBT fic automatically got a more severe rating than its heterosexual counterpart, just on the basis of containing LGBT content. The little purges were numerous, and there were multiple large purges as platforms decided what they would be willing to accept and what they would leave by the wayside.

Archive of Our Own changed the model. Instead of platforms moderating what they would allow, AO3 implemented a tagging system which would allow readers looking for works in the archive to filter out content they did not want, or to filter for content they did want. Instead of the filter being run by the governing body, the archive was just there. It was up to the user to decide what they would read. The user moderated for their individual preferences, instead of the Organization for Transformative Works (OTW is the governing body of AO3) deciding for an entire, diverse body of fans what they would be allowed to consume. OTW’s creators saw the blood spilled. And they used it to write new rules.

This became the standard of fandom because of its equal opportunity approach. Fandoms have the ability to self-govern, and one of the easiest and safest ways to do that is through comprehensive tagging systems.

Tumblr has an incredible tagging system. Could it be better? Sure. But you can block tags for things you don't like. You, the individual. You, the solitary person, with your own lens through which you view the world. You, who are different to anybody who has ever been, and different from anyone who will be, because no one will ever share your exact set of thoughts, words, feelings, and actions. YOU.

Essentials so far:

Hosting sites began for all fanfiction

A few hosting sites became Curated sites

Curated sites led to the creation of One Hosting Site to Rule Them All (no matter what issues that may create) AO3

The one hosting site is now the primary archive for thousands of fandoms, open to all kinds of work as long as you tag correctly

The democratization of fandom gives space for all works, and allows users to consume what they will (and avoid what they wish) via comprehensive tagging systems

So... where does that leave us?

ACOTAR is a relatively new fandom. It's boomed in the last couple of years, and that's fine. That's good. It is driven on platforms like TikTok and tumblr.

Do not tell me that the TikTok fans are worse. The grass is not burning any more on the other side of the fence than it is under your feet. And yes, the grass under your feet is burning. Look around! And this is the hellsite, after all.

Tumblr and TikTok, paired with the insane (and awesome!) number of ACOTAR fans, largely keep us apart from previously existing general fandom spaces due to algorithms driving engagement. Many ACOTAR fans are new to fandom culture. I don’t think this is a bad thing. I do think it can create problems where fans with previous fandom experience who are a part of the ACOTAR fandom will clash with fans who are new to fandom.

I think this knowledge gives us a choice. There are two types of hosting sites. Why not create two types of events? This is already happening. If we can label events as one of the two types, then it will help people find their spaces where they are the most comfortable. If we create events that are labeled as either "curated" (large amounts of moderation, limits on ships allowed, etc) or "hosted" (anything goes), then we can ensure that everybody is happy. 

She means that, by the way. She works for "peace". Ha. Imagine that. But seriously, girl…

Okay, well…

My Perspective (And Why Do People Care So Much?)

Am I truly happy with this? No.

It actually really pisses her off, actually. She won’t admit it, but I will.

I think, Editorial Chaos, that fandom benefits from Archive of Our Own type approaches, where anything goes, but you must tag comprehensively. It encourages appropriate reporting of triggering material and content not safe for minors/work. This goes for fandom spaces, but most especially fandom events, which should accept things which under the umbrella of the theme they are celebrating, regardless of the perceived morality of their content.

Maybe we can't expect all spaces to be ready for anything. We don't expect that of all people. However, saying that you are hosting an event which is open to all fans that prevents people from considering a character in a new view, such as considering a morally gray character, who is presented in canon as a protagonist, as an antagonist during their character week, or issuing guidelines which would limit an author's interpretation of characters that fit within an archetype, is not truly hosting a fandom-wide event. That's a curated event. And calling it "curated" here is not a judgment.

She seriously means that, too. In case you actually care. The Suriel knows I don’t.

An event that does not allow for truly transformative fanworks within the bounds of its established purpose (a specific ship for a ship week, or including a certain character for a character week) is not an event that is open. It is curated.

An event that is curated is not open to all fans, and should not be presented as such. I’m not going to make a judgment call and say that it is wrong. Get together with your friends and host your own week. I don’t care if you do that! I encourage it! Call it a fic trade, call it something else, but it isn’t an “open” event. It is curated.

However, I want you to keep something in mind as you curate public-facing events: Stop policing for morality. That’s going to end very poorly for us. Keep in mind that the things you are reading in ACOTAR now would have been, and are, in some places, being pulled from library shelves (if they’re getting published at all!) because of the same kinds of arguments you are making about morality. 

If you truly want more ACOTAR books, consider that, were your thoughts and opinions transposed to the real-life debate about book censorship (which isn’t really different from curation/moderation except that its issued by a corporation or government, which is an added level of intensity) by people who thought explicit sexual content didn’t belong in published books, you wouldn’t have ACOTAR at all.

An event presented as open to all fans when it is not actually open to all fans is in fact censorship, defined in the New Oxford American Dictionary (accessed via Apple) as “the suppression or prohibition of any parts of books, films, news, etc. that are considered obscene, politically unacceptable, or a threat to security.” 

Despite that, if this move to identifying events as either “open” or “curated” is what we need to get through this, then so be it. So be it. I'll be disappointed, and I'll be frustrated. And, so help me, I'll be angry. I will. I will not lie to you about that, but I will deal with it.

I love the “don’t like, don’t read” aspect of fandom. I like extensive, comprehensive, and sometimes-even-silly tagging. I like exploring things that I may not like, and then deciding “this just isn’t for me.” I like blocking tags!

More than that, though? I am tired of the fighting. I am so damn tired of it, guys. We have to do better. We seriously do. 

(Under 18s, and frankly, even 18-25s like myself, I’m just going to say one thing to directly to you, in case you are here. If you only take one point away from this post: Please learn to be nice to each other when you disagree. You, me, and our generations are notoriously bad at that. These people can be some of your best friends. Read that post I linked at the top for more details on good old human decency on public facing platforms. Complain to each other in DMs here or on Discord. Go outside and scream when you are frustrated, if you must. You’ll thank yourself one day, I promise.)

We are not treating each other with basic human dignity. We are not treating people like people. We also are not doing a good job of simply moving away from things that upset us at an individual level. We cannot expect to only see things we agree with. What we can do is acknowledge that our emotions are our responsibility. 

Community spaces do not need to be moderated for your enjoyment. If you are a part of a community space intended to be enjoyed with moderation like Reddit or some Facebook groups, great! If you are a part of a large group of people on a public platform like Tumblr, or in some type of semi-open community space like an open Facebook group or Discord server with a ton of people and expect to only see things you agree with or never encounter criticism, tough. 

Learn to accept criticisms of ideas you agree with. You don’t have to accept the criticism itself. You do have to accept that people are going to have thoughts you may not agree with, and that you will see them from time to time no matter how well you think you have blocked and closed off your experience to fit your tastes. (There is a big difference between appropriate criticism in the general environment and direct vitriolic hatred, which I decried in the post you should have read before starting. Which is why Editorial Chaos insisted you started there, to be clear.)

It’s exhausting to pretend like things are fine.

The grass is burning, remember? We’re all on this hellsite together.

So take from this post what you will. Consider my proposal for two kinds of fandom events. Ask questions, if you wish. Send me your thoughts. 

Just remember I’ll be the one answering cruel ones. Keep it together, folks. I was raised well, but I’ve got Nesta’s tongue and years of therapy to prove it.

I wish you all well. I truly do. I hope you learned something, or were able to consider something in a new light. I hope you find it helpful. 

All my best,

Chaos

Hey. Can I go, too?

Yeah, dude. Go to bed. It’s like… 3 AM and you’ve been obsessively working on this for days. How many research papers on censorship in fan controlled spaces did you-

Shut up, Chaos. At least we’re done now. Finally. Peace, y’all. <3 (not really), Editorial Chaos

xxx

One final note from my last editing round of this piece: I truly did spend days researching these topics, and reading thoughts from various points of view here on tumblr. I hope having the back and forth from "Chaos" to "Editorial Chaos" was entertaining rather than distracting. I hope some part of you enjoyed reading this. I truly do.

The first draft of this post was written not long after the Elaingate hashtag was created. It was a lot shorter. It was a lot meaner. It was a lot more discombobulated. I hope, despite the length and the occasional rudeness, that you have been able to learn something new, or consider a new perspective.

This subject matters a lot to me. In my state, we are fighting book bans left and right, and have been for a few years now. I recognize a lot of the statements I have seen here on tumblr from that very fight, and it makes it incredibly personal to me.

Thank you for understanding that for me, and many others around the globe who face much stricter regulations than those proposed in my district, this is more than a debate about morality and censorship in fanfiction. It is about addressing a pattern of thought that has real world consequences in our neighborhoods.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your kindness. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

And in case anyone is curious? Editorial Chaos is the bitch who edits all my fanfictions. Yes, really. She has her own brain (/kidding!). And she's so mean to me. All the time. (/true.)

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seventeen

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of excessive drinking to numb painful emotions, PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mention of scars

Word count: 2.8k

Sleep eventually came that night, and I felt hellish when I woke up in the morning. "Hellish" was putting it lightly. My head was pounding, my eyes burned, and my entire body was sore, aching like when you have the flu. My chest was heavy, and it felt like it was taking a lot of energy to simply breathe. I don't think I'd ever felt so drained before.

It took a few moments of being awake for me to remember what had happened during the night. I blinked rapidly and looked at the other side of the bed. I remembered Daryl had to be out early for a day of hunting, so I wasn't too hurt when I saw it was empty. Still, I wished he had stayed just long enough for me to wake up.

This day was unusual for me in that I didn't have anything planned, at least not until the evening. There was going to be a community dinner. Everyone was supposed to make something, and we would eat out in the grass by the garden and drink late into the night. I likely wouldn't see Daryl until then, unless he got back early from hunting. I already couldn't wait for him to get back so I could wrap my arms around him and thank him for everything.

My day was going to consist of taking care of myself as best I could after last night and making food for the dinner, maybe seeing if anyone wanted help with theirs. I started by pulling myself out of bed. At first, I just slid out onto the floor. But I got myself out of bed, and that was a start. I didn't quite have the energy to stand, so I crawled over to my dresser and pulled out my clothes. I had decided a few days ago that today was finally going to be the day that I wore that dress Daryl got me weeks ago, back when we hardly knew each other. Not only was I excited to wear it, but I was excited for him to see me in it.

I sat on the floor for a while, letting my body reserve as much energy as it could so I could get myself down to the kitchen. Having not eaten since lunch the day before certainly wasn't helping my situation. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up, steadying myself on the dresser. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were still a bit red, and my lids were swollen, but they weren't too bad. My face felt puffy, and my hair was a mess of bedhead. I would've taken a shower first if my hunger wasn't demanding I make my way to the kitchen.

Daryl had left a container of food for me in the fridge. On the lid was a sticky note with my name on it. Judging by what he wrote, he would've had to leave it this morning before he went out on his hunt.

Vec

Hope you're feeling better

See you tonight

I put the note on the counter so I would remember to put it in my notebook with the other one. Eating helped me to feel a little better, but I still mostly felt like a pile of garbage. The note also put a little smile on my face. After I ate, I lugged myself into the shower in the hopes that that would help me feel less like garbage.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

As I washed myself off in the shower, stills from my nightmare flashed through my mind. It was like my brain was flipping through photos of the incident to taunt me. It made me feel an otherworldly level of gross, disgusting, like the only thing that could cleanse me of the feeling would be to skin myself. I could hardly stand to touch my own skin, to look at my own body, and I ended up curling up into a ball on the floor of the tub and sobbing some more. I wasn't sure how much more of this my poor eyeballs could take.

I don't know how long I spent like that, curled up in a pathetic little ball in the tub, but it was long enough to ride out a panic attack that felt like it lasted for days.

Once the panic attack had mostly subsided, I did my best to finish washing myself off before standing back up. I continued to take deep breaths as I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing my fresh towel and tossing it around me like a blanket. I couldn't even look at my hands for fear that seeing my scars would send me into another spiral.

One thing was for sure—I was going to be numbing these feelings with alcohol.

I had never blacked out before, as I was a lightweight and didn't even like getting to the point that I was dizzy. I didn't know what I was going to be like, or what to expect, but I didn't care. I couldn't handle these feelings anymore. They'd been creeping up on me more and more the last few weeks, and last night was the catalyst for my impending drunken state. I could only hope I wouldn't make a total fool of myself and ruin things with Daryl.

I sat on my bed, trying to focus on my breathing and calm my nervous system down. I had talked patients down from panic attacks before, but talking yourself down from one was different. After some time, I was breathing normally again, and my heart rate had returned to a steady beat. I dried myself off and got dressed, and the sight of me in the stunning dress Daryl picked for me made me smile.

I did a small twirl in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. The hem sat right around my ankles, and the slit came up to my mid-thigh on my right leg. It was nice and flowy around my lower body and hugged my waist and chest just right. It was like it was crafted just for me. I couldn't wait for Daryl to see.

I didn't need to start preparing food until later, so I thought I would go see if anyone needed help with preparing theirs or needed help with anything else. I grabbed my bag, put my boots on, and headed outside. It was a gorgeous day, nice and sunny and perfect for the evening's activities. People were bustling around, busy completing their daily tasks so they could relax when dinnertime came around. It was wonderful to see people getting excited about something and coming together so that we all could have a normal, non-apocalyptic experience.

I started off at Glenn and Maggie's. I hadn't spent time with Maggie in a while, and truly, I was less concerned about seeing if she needed help and more so just wanted to hang out. Maggie had become like a sister to me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed spending time with Daryl. But I also was in desperate need of some girl time.

"Hey. I just wanted to see if y'all needed help with anything for tonight. And I missed you," I said.

"Yeah, long time no see," she said. She stepped out onto the porch and gave me a hug, acknowledging my dress as she pulled away. “Whoa, where'd you pull that out from?" She opened the door and ushered me inside.

"Oh, it was a gift," I explained. She had an inquisitive look on her face.

"From...?" Maggie asked. I looked down at the floor and smiled. Her quick response let me know that I didn't need to explain. She knew. "No, really? That's so sweet!"

"Yeah. He said he thought of me when he saw it and thought I would like it. It's my first time wearing it." I looked back up at Maggie, whose jaw was nearly on the floor. “He tried to tell me that he just got lucky and didn't remember that my favorite color is blue, but I'm pretty sure he remembered."

"Oh he never forgot," she gushed, starting to walk away towards another room, "hold on, I have just the thing to add to your look." She returned a minute later with a curling iron in her hand. "Look what I found the other day. Can I do your hair?" She sounded so excited at the idea, I had a hard time saying no.

"Sure," I said, following her off to the bathroom, "why not? I have a lot of hair though, I hope you got time."

"Glenn can make the food for tonight. We got all the time we need."

We spent hours in that tiny bathroom, chatting and laughing and giggling like old friends. It felt like getting ready with a girlfriend to go out to the club on a weekend. It was times like this that made things seem normal, even if it was just for a few hours. We only took a break at one point for lunch, and Maggie explained to Glenn that he would be cooking for tonight's event. He was less than pleased.

"Are you gonna dress cute tonight?" I asked Maggie as she was moving on to the last chunks of my hair.

"I may have found something nice to wear," she said, a little smirk on her face and laughter in her voice.

"Oooh, you'll have to show me when we're done. We gotta make sure Rosita and Michonne do too. Ah I'm so excited!" I gushed.

After she finished the last piece of my hair, I stood up and looked in the bathroom mirror. It was somewhere between soft waves and tight ringlet curls, and despite being curled, it still reached down past my chest. Having my hair done was just the confidence boost I needed.

"Maggie, you killed it," I said. I twirled around and gave her another hug.

"You look great. Daryl's gonna have a hard time taking his eyes off you," she said. I caught myself turning red in the mirror, and her chuckling at me indicated that she had caught it too.

"Well, he can look as much as he wants," I gushed.

"Will he get to do more than just look?"

"Maggie!" I gave her shoulder a gentle shove, and I could feel the red on my face becoming brighter. She only laughed more.

"C'mon, let me show you what I picked out," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bathroom to go upstairs.

Once I left Maggie's, I went over to see Rosita and then Michonne. I wasn't able to find Rosita, but I did tell Michonne about what Maggie and I planned, and it didn't take much convincing to get her to join us. She showed me a cute little cream-colored dress that she had but hadn't worn before, and I gushed over how pretty she would look in it. It felt good to be able to hype up my fellow women.

I took a little stroll around the community before going home to make food for the eventful evening to come. After I finished making the food, I hand-washed some pots and pans. I had squatted down on the floor to put something away in a lower cabinet when I heard the front door open. I figured it had to be Daryl. The butterflies in my stomach awakened. I was both excited and extremely nervous for him to see me all dolled up.

"Hey, there's my bonafide badass," I said as I popped my head up over the island in the kitchen. His chocolate hair hung in front of his face, obstructing his eyes from my view, but I could feel that they were on me. He had taken off his bow and his jacket, both of which had been tossed on the floor, and he had started walking in my direction. “How did the hunt go?"

"Real well. Probably the best in—wow." He cut off his sentence as I got up and walked around the other side of the island. My heart was pounding. "Ya wearin' it."

"Yeah. I, uh, finally found an occasion to wear it," I said, taking a few steps closer to him and giving him a couple of little twirls. “What do you think?"

He didn't say anything at first, just eyed me up and down, which I didn't mind. Like I told Maggie, he could look as much as he wanted. He stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, giving me the tightest and most gentle hug I could imagine. I wrapped my arms around his neck in return. He was a little sweaty and dirty from being out in the sun all day, but I didn't care. My knees felt weak, and I practically melted into him as he pulled me closer.

"Ya look real nice." His sweet Southern accent right in my ear sent shivers down my spine. "Dress fits perfect."

"Thank you. The hair is courtesy of Maggie. It took hours."

"She did great," Daryl said. We spent another few moments like that before Daryl released me from the hug. But he still kept me close, running his hands up and down from my shoulders to my elbows. His work-worn hands caressing my bare skin felt immaculate. “How ya feelin' after last night?" I kept my gaze on his chest. I was finding it difficult to look him in the eye when I thought about what happened the night before. I was still feeling ashamed.

"Alright. I had some...moments throughout the day, but I'm ok." I could feel him looking down at me. He only had three, maybe four inches on me at most, but he still had to peer down to look at me, especially when we were this close. I twiddled my thumbs together anxiously. "I'm sorry about what happened. I feel bad for keeping you up, and I feel like such a baby for how I acted."

"Don't apologize. Nothin' ya did wrong. Just glad you're ok," Daryl said. His voice was always so silky soft when he talked to me, and it made me melt even more. "Wanted to stay with ya 'til ya got up, but I had to leave early. Sorry 'bout that." I leaned my head forward and rested my forehead on his chest. Being this close to him, wrapped up in his arms like this...it was my own personal heaven.

"That's ok, it's not your fault. Thank you for everything you did for me. I—" I cut myself off before using the word I considered. I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes locking immediately. Those stunning blue irises made me weak. "I appreciate you. A lot."

"Anytime sunshine," he reassured, and I gave him a big grin in return.

"I should get the food outside. Wanna come with me?"

"Ya go on. I'll be out soon," he said. I skipped over into the kitchen and grabbed the slow cooker, and Daryl went upstairs. I propped the appliance up on my leg and let myself outside.

Someone had taken one of the infirmary tables and set it up in the grass, and plenty of people had already brought their dishes out and were gathering together. There was also a separate table set up for alcohol. I went over and sat the slow cooker down on the infirmary table, and I could see Rosita bouncing over towards me.

"Dude, you look hot," she exclaimed, giving me a hug as she approached me, "your hair looks amazing. How long did that take?"

"Thank you. Maggie did it. It took literal hours," I said, "and so do you. You look so cute. I wish we had a way to take pictures."

"Thanks. She caught me earlier and told me you all planned to dress up, told me I should join in."

"Oh good. I tried to find you earlier to tell you, but I couldn't," I explained. I tapped my foot on the ground and crossed my arms over my chest. "Rosita, I need you to do me a huge favor. I'm looking to get drunk tonight. Like really drunk. If you think I might start saying something about Daryl, something that he or anyone else shouldn't hear, I need you to punch me in the stomach as hard as you can." Her expression changed to a confused one. "I mean that. Don't hold back. Knock some sense into me."

"Vector, I'm not gonna punch you. But I will stop you from saying something you'd regret. How much do you plan on drinking?"

"You don't wanna know."

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

[ao-anonymousobsesser]

How Many Times?

AO3: How Many Times? - AnonymousObsesser - The Vampire Diaries (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary: Elena dies. And dies. And dies.

A/N: I swear I'm working on other stuff. Found this in my drafts and fixed it up a little. Hope yall enjoy this while you wait. All my love. --AO

Let me know what you think. Should I continue or leave it?

Tags: Elena/Eljah, Elena Gilbert, Elijah Mikaelson, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Be Careful What You Wish For, Elena Gilbert-centric, How Do I Tag, Temporary Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD, Mental Breakdown, Brainwashing, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, basically a manwha regression thing, Elena will suffer, i love her but i had to do it, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, dying and regressing, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, okay actually she kills him but time travel so it doesnt last, what i mean is they are healthier than everything else

How Many Times?

She dies from old age. Married to her high school sweetheart turned Mayor Matt Donovan, white picket fence, four children, seven grandchildren, one great-grandchild. She never knew anything outside of Mystic Falls, never left Virginia--college at Whitmore in McKinley, Medical School and internship in Charlottesville, Residency and Fellowship in Norfolk, Attending at her father's practice back home. Born, raised, married, died.

Wakes up, sixteen again. Doesn't understand, goes along with Caroline and Bonnie to the end-of-semester bonfire. Has an epiphany halfway through that this is real, she came back, she can be free. Fights with Matt, leaves early, her parents die, she lives.

She dies of old age. Married to horror movie villain vampire turned hometown hero human Damon Salvatore. Two kids, one grandchild (three grandkittens). Rebuilt her father's practice, made it her own. Traveled to a few big cities along the way--Atlanta, Chicago, New York, New Orleans--but always goes home. She has blood on her hands, but believes she's a good person; knows Damon does, too, but believes that he is good in his heart. Watches her almost-stepsisters' grandchildren on the weekends, visits her almost-stepfather's grave alongside her brother-in-law's, her husband and ageless sister-in-law right by her side. Reborn, lives, dies, loves, dies, kills, lives, loves, dies, lives, sleeps, wakes, marries, dies.

Wakes up, sixteen again. Dies two weeks later by bluntforce trauma to the head from being thrown against a wall. Hears her mother's scream cut off with a gurgle.

Again. And again.

Wakes up. Dies the next night, her family's car a torched mess wrapped around a tree.

Wakes up. Dies by drowning.

Again again again.

Wakes up. Dies by strangulation after giving her secrets away to her former husband.

Wakes up. Dies by blood loss after giving her secrets away to her once epic love and tripping over a fallen branch, a twig going through her palm--he's on her before she can even scream.

Wakes up. Dies by broken neck when her former husband finds her with said epic love and loses his temper.

Again. Again. Again again again again again again again again again...

Wakes up. Convinces her parents to let her drive when they pick her up. They pass Damon--her father leaves for a so-called business trip four days later and never returns alive, his body returned in a casket with a gaping hole sewn shut. She knows why his body looks so wrong, veins in stark contrast to grey skin,  suspects her mother knows, too, confirmed when she disappears and returns just as dead, the brand of Augustine linking them beneath the earth. Her brother lashes out too much, too drunk-high-faded to control himself, doesn't know his own strength, and she's too upset, too off-balance, her vision to blurry and reflexes too slow to catch herself on the railing. Swears she remembers hearing her neck snap this time, her head cracking open, blood splattered over the wall.

Again.

Wakes up. Asks her parents about vampires, werewolves, Doppelgängers. Gets shocked and confused looks followed by a crash course on the family history, on hate and mistrust and bigotry, and wonders aloud why it has to be this way. They get frustrated when she doesn't understand, doesn't accept their views as her own. Take her to the Society, show her their pet vampire, make him compel her to leave the supernatural alone and trust them to know best. She takes a tour around college and dies at the hand of a vampire obsessed with her face--with the last woman who wore it.

Wakes up. Packs a bag. Clothes, shoes for running, both her and her brother's money socks (bakesales of two different kinds, plus holiday and birthday money, adds up to more than a thousand each, sorry sorry), no jewelry or electronics, no keepsakes, steals from her parents' vervain stash just in case. Escapes in the middle of the day, drives to the next town and ditches her aunt's car, boosting another, repeats until she gets to the state line--hitchhikes for two states, then rents a car and makes it to Georgia.

Almost has a heartattack when she runs into her ex-but-not-anymore, but it's just a Doppelgänger, not him. He's normal and sweet, and he offers to take her to the hospital when she appears to be having a psychotic break, then listens to her sob story about losing her parents and her husband and her children and takes her to a bar instead. This is where she meets a witch for the first time again. Asks about her Doppelgänger, magic, vampires, werewolves, curses; asks to be taught, trained, a request that is granted.

Her old friend slash first hybrid-but-not-anymore-not-yet finds her in Chicago five years later, not looking, surprised to see her. She wonders if it's really coincidence, if they have a connection that transcends timelines, if his other creator can find her, too. Thoughts are silenced when he delivers the news: her parents are dead, made a mistake with a vampire in their desperation to find her (the not-hybrid doesn't know anything, isn't even a wolf yet, but she reads between the lines of "animal attack when they were out of town following a lead"), her aunt left town and never looked back, teaches at Whitmore with her fiance, Jeremy overdosed the second he was left alone after the funeral, lays in a coma with his medical bills paid for by the town.

She dies from her own kind of overdose, one of magic. Her powers fry her, emotions too raw and uncontrolled, sucking the life out of everything around her until her skin turns pale, then red, then charcoal-grey. Her friend-not-friend-son-not-son screams in shock as she explodes.

Repeat, this time with a note left behind, don't look. Same witch, same training, same new acquaintances and more training. More magic flows through her veins than ever, but she's greeted with the same death when her parents find her and explain that her brother committed suicide by overdose, angry she left him behind. She's sad and guilty and angry they came for her, and she barely registers the wave of power in her ears until it's too late. They die together.

She wakes up. Breaks down. Crying and screaming, lashing out. Can't take the pressure--tells her brother everything, as if he can help. He doesn't, can't. Won't believe her, thinks she's messing with him or losing her mind or got into his stash or something. Their parents overheard it all, understand that it's the truth, but they can't accept it. She tries to explain, but it makes it worse--they don't try to compel her this time, apparently that's not enough. They take her away, lock her up in a cell.

She knows this place, remembers it; looks to the left, isn't surprised to see him. Her best friend's lover, and her lover's best friend. She cries and cries until she falls asleep. Wakes up to someone petting her hair through the bars of her cell, fingers combing out the tangles, braiding the edges from her face. Looks up, cries again, spills everything once more, this time to someone she's pretty sure won't say she's crazy. And he doesn't--he believes her. She cries and cries until she falls asleep, wakes up to find him dead, staked through the heart; it looks like he tried to protect her, and that makes it worse, because she knows they won't hurt her, won't kill her like that.

No, they hurt her in other ways. Her parents--not her parents--they torture her for days, months, years, she loses count. Try to brainwash her into working with them, for them, using her knowledge and their skills to wipe out the creatures they abhor. They bring her husband's head, the heart of her once epic love, the teeth of her not-son. Magic can stay, but killers cannot--they bring witches to warp her memories, her best friend with cold eyes, and she knows her former sister-in-law is dead for good, probably turned after she went missing and staked after that. The shock of knowledge is enough to break her mind, let the magic and the science inside to do what they please, and she becomes their weapon.

She dies by her hybrid killer's hands, his teeth in her neck yet again, but she knows a witch is behind him, waiting for the weakness to take over his body. She feels the explosion as she drifts on an ocean, dizzy, fading into black.

Wakes up. Brainwashing is still in effect, and now she has all the memories she needs to finish the mission. She does, with a precision and finesse that would make her ancestors proud, that would horrify beings millenia her senior. The eldest first, buried in a tomb, and his lover shipped across the world--then the young ones, the ones with simpler weaknesses, first the wolf, then the coffins, then him. He almost gets her, almost breaks through, with those dark eyes gazing at her like he knows.

But when she asks, Do you know who I am? all he can say is, I knew that you were coming, and I knew that you would save me for last, and I know that you are not Katerina, but no, I cannot say that I know who you are.

Even that is almost enough to bring her back, remembering him from lifetimes ago--could she be even older than him now, with all the regression? no. no, that was impossible, but she might be older than them, or even her--but he tries to strike when she's conflicted, and her reflexes are faster than her emotions. The stake goes in at the same moment he reaches for her face, clutching her with both hands. She watches as he grits his teeth, his flesh burning like embers rather than flames, and she can almost see her own memories in his head, watches the horror dawn alongside pain and pity and intrigue.

He laughs when his knees give out, blood spraying past his lips to splatter her, and she jumps; she wishes she could say it was the blood, the disgusting sight of his flesh flaking away, but it's not. She jumps because he laughs, and she's never heard that before--it's marred by the grotesque scene, muffled from the blood in his teeth, but it's still... something. Not pretty or beautiful or soothing. But something.

His grin is sharp but almost sad as he looks up at her, and as his body turns fully to ash, he tells her, Come find me next time. Tell me the truth, and I'll help you. Then he's gone.

And the world burns with him.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd always wondered if this might happen. If magic, especially Earth Magic, Nature Magic, might be more like science than witches could comprehend. Vampires had been part of the ecosystem, the biosphere, for centuries--they were around when life-expectancy and population were both low. A thousand years of adaptation from five to dozens to hundreds to thousands of them, only to be wiped out in a matter of days; it was an ecosystem's worst nightmare. Nature had adapted, people had not, and this destroys them both.

It starts with confusion--where did all the dead bodies come from? What disease is this? But they don't know, can't see vampirism in permanently-dead tissue, and witches refuse to come clean with humans. The death toll is larger than she expected, somewhere in the millions, and a chill runs down her spine as the witches cheer.

In just one year, overpopulation runs rampant, and whole nations begin starving. No space for new homes, so forests are leveled; the rich live underground, mansions sprawling beneath mountains.

Two years, three years, and water becomes scarce; rivers dry up, reservoirs disrupted. Humans begin getting sick, too sick to move, let alone work. Birthrates drop in big cities, then small towns, then all over. Businesses go under, followed by whole governments. More death, more desperation, more destruction.

Five years, and half of all animal species are extinct. Another decade, barely a quarter remains.

Nature rebels. Plants wither, whatever is left burns. Deserts where there were once lakes and forests, ocean levels drop, volcanos erupt. The world does not end slowly, over centuries or millenia--as it turns out, it doesn't take that long to starve to death when you're too weak to move. A vicious cycle of fatigue and starvation leading to more fatigue and starvation. Three decades after she finished her mission, she's one of only a handful of humans left scraping by.

She dies in fire, with no one to see it.

Wakes up. Fights the itch, the urge to start again, finish the mission. Finds her parents, tells them she'll be back; won't accept their love, their physical affection, can't if she wants to stay sane. She catches her brother's eye, sees his suspicion, grits her teeth and leaves; makes it to a hotel five towns over before she breaks down. It hurts to resist, hurts more than anything ever has, but she has to keep going. There's only one person who can help her now and she almost laughs as she thinks of their last meeting.

Come find me next time.

Can't use her phone, her family might track her before the job is done, asks a concierge instead. Ten minutes is all she needs--gives the guy fifty dollars to keep his mouth shut when he gives her a look that screams, Should I call the cops?

She calls. No answer. Leaves a message, hangs up. The concierge clears his throat, but she holds up a finger, staring at the phone in her hand. Exactly one minute later, it rings loudly--she grins, victorious and a little pained, and answers immediately. Two questions, three answers, and a click. She hands the phone back and goes to her room.

It hurts. She drinks. Her mind drifts to the mission--she breaks the little bottle and cuts her leg. The fog fades while the pain burns, and she's glad he's not here yet; she doubts he'd hurt her, or pay any mind at all, and he probably wouldn't ask outright, but he would wonder. Wonder what she was doing, and why. He'd help her wrap it up--wouldn't heal her, not if she didn't ask--and that touch would break her. Soft, gentle, professional. It would shatter her like the glass she still held, and she would spill everything, and that wasn't how she wanted to start the conversation. Not this time.

Next time, maybe. But not now.

He comes the next morning. Suit immaculate, hair not quite. His knock is concise--tap tap, that's it. She opens the door a second later, already at the door since six a.m., and it's now eight. He's not surprised by her face--one of her answers last night had told him as much--but his gaze drops to the makeshift sheet-bandage wrapped around her calf, and he's confused, but only for a moment, because then she speaks, and he has something else to wonder about.

I need you to help me fix my brain, she grits out. In return, you can see my memories. I'd also appreciate it if you would kill me when we're done.

Must I?

If you don't agree, I'll do it right now and go find someone else. But I think you'll agree to my terms.

How can you be so sure?

She grins, a little insane. Because my words don't make any sense, and you can't resist the desire to find out what they mean.

She watches him, knows he wants to ask, ask how she knows him like this--she doesn't, not really, she knows him better than most, yes, but that doesn't take much when he doesn't let people in as a general rule--but he leans in at exactly the wrong moment, and she feels the urge tugging at her gut again. Her feet move back, and she holds up a hand to ward him off when he follows.

Give me your word. She leans against the opposite wall with crossed arms, her nails digging into her arms with the effort of keeping still.

He passes through the door, shuts it, leans against it with a posture to mirror hers. His dark eyes observe her from head to toe, then meet hers with a sharpness she recognizes even before she feels the nudge--his mouth ticks up at the corner. You can't be compelled.

I can resist compulsion, she corrects with an irritated sigh. I am the one that decides who gets into my head. Do we have a deal?

He ponders it for a long moment. I have a condition, he says, which is as good as a yes when it comes to him, or them, because she doesn't care what the condition is.

She asks anyway. What is it?

Before I kill you, he says slowly--she sighs in relief--as he steps closer, I want the right to ask any questions I so desire to ask... A pause, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. And after that, I want a favor.

A favor, she says slowly. But I'll be dead.

Well, he drawls. Then I suppose it will be a quick favor. His smile is miniscule but sharp. If you can agree to these terms, we have a deal.

She tilts her face away from his hand, eliminating contact but keeping her eyes on his. Then I guess we should get started, she says with a nod. Her eyes close, and her shoulders relax with the sigh she releases. We have a deal.

She sits down at the little table provided by the hotel, and he pulls the extra chair around to sit directly in front of her, their thighs interlocked with each other. Every minute shift in their seats presses their legs together, and she has to grit her teeth to keep the magic under her skin from surfacing. He asks her several questions in a perfunctory tone, very professional--what exactly does she want removed, why is it there, who put it there, can he touch her skin to keep their connection steady. She lets him touch her hand; her face would be better, but it's too intimate and leaves her hands free to do what they really want to do, which is kill him--it's not her that wants him dead, but her mind and body. Something in the way she twitches must alert him to this fact, because he grabs her hands between his and looks into her eyes with no hesitation.

By the end of it, she feels relaxed for the first time since her husband's best friend died for her; there's no more pain, no more itch. She feels calm.

He isn't, though. Calm, that is. He's still--eerily so, not even blinking or breathing, as far as she can see. His gaze is the only sense of life on him, filled not with void but with pain and horror. It's clear he's disgusted, but when she tries to pull her hands away, to run from him in shame, he pulls her close, gripping her shoulders.

What happened to you?

Unbidden, her eyes fill with tears. I died, is what she says.

She moves his hands to her face and pushes, forcing the memories to float between them--watches as they're sucked into the black chasm of his gaze, as said gaze gets wider and wider with horror as he watches it all play out before him. Hundreds of lives, some short and some long; some including his brother, others her many lovers, only two before this with he himself in any capacity.

He says, Did you ever trust me? But he knows the answer.

I trusted you from the very first deal, she whispers. But everyone that I told either didn't believe me or just killed me. I didn't want... I don't think I could have survived if you did, too.

He's seen it in her mind--she loved him, at least in some capacity, in the first life they met. She might still, even, but she's broken in ways that can't be fully healed, not by him or anyone. And she feels guilty for all of it: for loving two, three, four people at once, for killing people, for killing him and his family, for hating the people that raised her, for not saving the people she loves that love her, for being selfish at the end of her first life and wishing for something she'd never had.

Five centuries, give or take. Five hundred years of guilt, and it reminds him of his family, of himself.

He asks her a hundred questions, pushes her for exactness, digs through her memories for every emotion, every thought, every compulsion placed on her; he asks and asks and tears at her psyche until she breaks down and repeats it all, shows him every piece of her, and then he asks for a favor. The same favor, and she knows he says it this way on purpose because he's seen her memory of the past.

Come find me next time. He tilts her chin with both hands, his gaze pleading. When you wake up, find me. Don't go to anyone else, don't ask questions, don't run away from it all. Just come to me. I will save you, if it's the last thing I do.

More tears trickle down her cheeks. I'll have to go through this again, then. She doesn't care, not exactly, but it hurts too much to be fully okay with it.

No, he insists. Don't tell me everything, but tell me the truth. Give me a glimpse, but don't hurt yourself. Can you do that?

Yes, she manages to whisper. But why do you care? Why do you want... to save me?

For the first time in her many lives, he hesitates to speak the truth. Because... I think I loved you. And I'm incapable of abandoning those that I love when they are in such immense pain.

But you want to kill your brother.

Only because I believed he destroyed the family we shared. Family is his only redemption, and as I thought he had buried them at sea... Well. If he could so easily abandon them, then the last of his morality is already gone. I believed him a true monster.

She sighed softly. But anyone who is capable of love is capable of being saved. Her eyes filled with tears again. She used to say that all the time. It's how she forgave my husband. She sniffled. But I can't. I'll never forgive him--them. The brothers... how many times have I died by them? By their sire. And my sister, she died, too. On the inside, and then temporarily, and then permanently. Over and over and over.

There was even a time she herself had killed the blonde, if only to put her out of her misery. She'd forgotten about that particular life, or perhaps buried it purposefully; the one time she managed to avoid her husband by seeking out her twin along with her sweet sisters. The blonde had turned alongside her, only to be bitten by her once-upon-a-time-wolf-boyfriend by accident. She'd held the blonde's heart in her hand, crushing it as tears ran down her face and the blonde begged for her mother to read her a fairytale.

Her life had ended shortly after, the witch unable to control her grief and she unable to run from it under the weight of her guilt. It was the only time she actively killed either of her sisters.

Another sob ripped through her chest. I can't even forgive myself. I destroyed the world. And I might do it again.

He shook his head. You won't. His hand curled in her hair. As you destroyed, so you will save. I will help you, if you allow it. But you have the power to do anything you wish. Forgive, forget, destroy, save. It is up to you.

What did I do to deserve this? she cried. I never would have made a wish if I knew it would never end.

You know what they say about wishing, he mused gently.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat and past her lips. Yeah. She gazed up at him, wiping her face with a sleeve. Is... Is that your favor? Telling you again?

She watches him swallow, looking at her with that analyzing, calculating, contemplating gaze. No, he says finally. I don't want to force you. Tell me if you want, or keep it to yourself. It's your trauma, and yours alone.

She blinks in confusion. Then... what do you want?

He smiles. Please save me.

Another blink. From what?

A deep sadness crosses his face, flickers in his eyes, before it disappears as he leans closer. His lips press against her forehead in a featherlight touch, palms a gentle collar around her neck.

From myself.

There is no pain, and she does not hear it as her spine snaps in his hands. She dies in the beat from one second to the next.

And she wakes.