#ig i left this continuity vague so there's a lot of room

[transingthoseformers]

There are many many options, just as there are soooooo many decepticons

Shockwave is definitely an option because I feel like Shockwave puzzles out a lot of mental hypotheticals, and some of those hypotheticals get very specific sometimes

Skywarp, Vortex, and Overlord were options I also considered

But for all we know it could be some random nobody decepticon who just happens to have one incredibly wild thought that Soundwave picks up on at the right/wrong moment and that Soundwave cannot forget

Thinking about Soundwave's telepathy and how at this point when it comes to thoughts, nothing phases him anymore

Whatever you can think of, Soundwave knows somebot who has thought of something much, much weirder

[s0ulryo]

König with a Medic S/O Scenario *:･ﾟ

[König x Reader] Synopsis: König getting patched up by his favorite medic —you. Tags: Soft, konig lovers we rise, established relationship (i forget to put this tag on a ton of things whoops), mentions of distress (?) Notes: Prolly ooc, not proofread, his voice is so mmmmm, also my brain blanked so many times while writing this so im vv sorry for the wonky formatting

Thank you @uselsshuman for letting me write about this!

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

König dislikes a lot of things. He wouldn’t say he hates anything but the list of dislikes has grown over the years. For example, König dislikes crowded places, the smell of cigarettes, getting injured, having to go to a medic to treat his injury, having to see you — who is a medic to treat his injury, having to get chewed out by you for obtaining an injury — you get the point.

So here he sits, listening to you freak out about the injury he obtained while being deployed. He knows you don’t mean any harm by it; you’re just concerned for his safety — König appreciates it, he really does — but he’s also a little stressed out by your current commentary.

“Oh my God — König, how the hell did you manage to do this?”

He honestly doesn’t think it’s that bad; sure, the wound looks terrible — but it doesn’t feel too horrible, so it can’t be too bad, right?

Wrong.

“König, are you listening to me? König, are you alright?”

König’s very thankful for you. He thinks you’re awfully nice and very understanding about his feelings, and in all honesty, he’s not sure how he managed to get with someone like you, but he’s not going to question it — he’s just going to enjoy it.

“Sorry, could you repeat what you just said?” König mumbles out sheepishly.

He can’t help it. You’re exceptionally attractive, and König now realizes his arm is in an exceptional amount of pain — and bleeding tremendously. ‘Things like attractive S/O and immense amounts of pain due to physical injury usually make it difficult to focus,’ he reasons to himself.

Sighing, you shake your head. “König, please try to avoid getting injured — this is the second time this week….”

Nodding softly in acknowledgment, König continues to watch you gather the supplies you need to patch his arm up; his eyes flicker around in discomfort, bouncing his leg up and down to keep his mind occupied. Sure he’s sustained worse injuries than this, but getting patched up has always made him anxious.

Swallowing thickly, König tries to place himself out of this situation – somewhere nicer than your medical workspace that smells like antiseptic – anywhere else than here.

He watches you set to work, his eyes closely following the movement of your hands on his arm, cleaning the wound gently, trying to make the process quicker and easier on him.

He’s vaguely aware that his breathing got heavier or how he’s feeling light headed, heart in his throat – vaguely aware that you’re calling his name.

“…ig” “…önig”

He can see you talking, but he can’t hear you very well; bouncing his leg more rapidly, he tries to say anything to tell you how he feels, but he can’t get any words out.

“..ey…hey big guy – look, I’m here, you’re alright – okay?” You try to get him to focus on you, not necessarily your words but just on you.

"Try to take a big breath, big guy – yeah, just like that – breathe in, breathe out…You're doing great König.”

Following your instructions König (tries) to take a deep breath in and out, focusing on what you smell like and your voice. König feels a little stupid, he’s gotten shot – almost killed before, but he can’t take a little doctor's visit? So yeah, it's definitely a critical hit on his ego; he’s just glad it’s you with him.

After calming down a bit König bites the inside of his cheek, diverting his eyes to the door to the far left of the room. He considers bolting out of your office – he won’t have to get patched up, and he won't have to face you, so it’s a win-win situation—

“König dear, don’t try to run out of the room,” you tell him firmly, more so for you than for him – if he decides to make a hasty exit, you conclude that you would not be able to catch the injured man.

“…Am I that obvious [Name]?”

“Yes, dear…You are pretty obvious.”

The silence in the room was deafening, not super awkward – just a bit tense.

König sighs, visibly deflating in his chair; he mutters an apology, watching your figure look in the bottom drawer of your desk. He feels like he’s back in primary school when kids would make fun of him, leaving him all embarrassed.

Well, in this situation, he feels more ashamed than embarrassed.

He continues to watch you shuffle through the drawer until you find what you were looking for – suddenly, you turn to him, smiling triumphantly, motioning for him to stick out his hand to take what you were holding.

“What is it [Name]?” König asks, reaching out for the unknown object in your hand.

Upon further examination, König realizes the object is made of solid metal and cylindrical – resembling a car transmission.

“It’s a fidget toy! I like that one personally because I like the feeling of the transmission shifting gears – but I have some other ones if you would like.”

König stares at you dumbfounded. Diverting his eyes to the small toy in his hand, he starts to mess with it.

“König, I’m going to continue patching you up, alright? Please let me know if you need anything….”

Nodding, he continues to mess with the toy in his hand, gnawing at his bottom lip to suppress a smile.

König, a man that stands at six foot ten inches, just received a fidget toy from his medic S/O – how could he not smile?

“König, I’m done cleaning the wound, but you’ll need some stitches, alright? I’ll try to make this as quick as possible.”

König continues to watch you work while shifting the fidget toy from first gear to sixth gear, grateful for the newfound distraction from the distressing environment he’s currently in. He’s also immensely thankful that you are walking him through everything you do – even though he’s not entirely listening.

“Finished! All patched up, big guy – how are you feeling?” You say, tying off the final stitch on König’s arm.

“Better – I feel better,” König says, fumbling with his words, speaking with such haste, appearing as if you caught him off guard.

“Great, I’ll write down the care instructions for your stitches, so you don’t forget – come back here in two-ish weeks to remove the stitches, alright?

Standing up, he shyly extends his hand out to you, offering to return the toy you graciously lent him.

“Oh, you can keep that big guy – you seem to like it…So you can have it.”

König stares at you dumbfounded again, shifting his gaze from you to the small toy in his hand, back to you.

“…You sure?” König asks you quietly.

“Positive.” You respond, pushing his extended hand back towards him. “I want you to have it.”

König thinks he’s going to combust.

His awfully nice, exceptionally attractive S/O just watched him break down, patched him up, and gave him a gift. He’s not sure what he has ever done to be treated with such care, but if he thinks about it any longer, he might start to cry.

Bending down, he mutters a ‘thank you’ into your neck, tightly wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“König..?” He hears you say softly, “Can we stay like this for a while..?”

Humming in approval, he pulls you closer to him, slightly swaying side to side, putting more of his weight on your body to keep you in place.

You don’t know what injuries König will acquire the next time he’s deployed, but for now, your mind is here – at this moment, with König holding you in his embrace and the steady beating of his heart proving that he’s alive and that he loves you.

[gaylotusthatexists]

an explosive birthday

pairing: platonic intrulogical and dukeceit

summary: It’s Remus birthday, but everyone else has seemed to have forgotten. He decides to torment Thomas to celebrate.

trigger warnings: sympathetic janus, remus is kinda morally grey ig?, some disturbing imagery (remus related), blood mention, please let me know if i need to add anything

word count: 2261

a/n: happy birthday to my favourite trash man!!!!!!!!! i would like to apologise to him for what i just put him through, but i do love him and hope he has a nice day (better than what he got in this fic ahsjsh). yeah, hope y’all enjoy tho <3

ao3

Remus stared up at his ceiling, eyes wide open and mind racing. He hadn't seen Janus in a while, not since the wedding. He hadn't been bothering Thomas, either - it was no fun when Thomas just brushed him away, and Thomas had a lot more things to be dealing with right now anyway. The only contact he'd had with anyone else was with Roman, who still wandered in and out of their shared bedroom, sometimes crying and sometimes just looking tired. Since the wedding, Remus had spent the majority of his time staring at the ceiling, occasionally heading into the Imagination to kill some things but mostly just staring at the ceiling, deep in thoughts he wished he didn't have.

He picked up his phone and decided to continue reading that... online novel he'd been reading, not really taking in any of the words or even caring about it but enjoying the feeling of his thumb sliding over the screen, a nice change from his fingernails digging into his skin. Deciding this this was boring, he locked his phone, only to turn it back on a moment later and stare at his lock-screen. A photo of him and Janus, a manic look in Remus' eyes and a bored expression on Janus' face, with a burning building behind them. Remus remembered that - it was for his birthday last year, Janus had taken him into the Imagination for a night of crime and light arson, an activity that Remus always loved.

Huh. He glanced up at the date on his phone, noticing that it was his birthday. Damn - had it really been that long since the wedding? Surely...

He sat up in bed, cringing a little at how the sudden movement caused his head to ache. He slowly began to rub his temple, fingernails scratching against his skin a little too hard and possibly drawing blood. Hmm. It was already midday, according to the time on his screen and judging by the sun seeping into his room, and nobody had come to wish him a happy birthday yet. That... wasn't exactly unusual, he supposed, but Janus - and Virgil, before he left - always used to throw him some sort of party, and back when they had a more civil relationship Roman used to at least acknowledge his birthday. Thinking about it, though, he hadn't actually seen Roman in a week or so...

Well. He hummed, deciding that maybe he should leave his room for today. It was a special occasion, after all, and it had been a while since Remus had eaten anything other than his own hair or his deodorant - he'd actually ran out of deodorant to chew on a couple weeks ago, he needed to steal some more at some point. He doubted that anyone actually remembered or even cared about his birthday - they'd all seemed to have forgotten about his existence, at the very least - but maybe he could have a little fun. Who to bother, though...

Remus clicked his fingers and appearing next to Thomas in the kitchen, draping himself over Thomas' body. "Hey, Thomas!"

"Gah!" Thomas exclaimed, jumping away from Remus and pointing a spoon at him somewhat threateningly.

A grin grew across Remus' face as he leapt up onto the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. "Wouldn't it be fun if the oven just... exploded, right now? Fire everywhere, you blown to pieces, one arm over there, a leg over here-"

"What are you doing here?" Thomas interrupted, his arm shaking.

Remus pulled his legs up onto the counter and sat crosslegged, propping his elbows up on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. "I want to talk to you! Don't you wanna hang out with your dear ol' Duke?" He felt something wet land on his hand, something dribbling down his chin. Blood - that was just a little concerning, he'd made a mental note to investigate the blood dripping out his mouth later. For now, though, he just sucked it back up, eyes lighting up at the look of disgust on Thomas' face.

Logan stepped into the kitchen, took one look at Remus, and sighed. "Remus, would you get off the kitchen counter, it's incredibly unsanitary."

Remus pouted. "Everyone else sits on the counter and you never complain about them!"

"Yes, but the rest of us shower," Logan pointed out.

Thomas moved closer to Logan, hiding behind him. "Logan, help, please."

Logan sighed again. "Remus, may I inquire why you are bothering Thomas right now?"

"It's my job!" Remus answered. "Do you want me to not do my job?"

"Your job is to make Thomas aware of the more... mature aspects of creativity, not to scare him for the sake of it."

Remus jumped off the counter and stepped towards Logan. He grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, so their faces were only inches apart. "More mature ideas, huh?" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

A look of pure disgust arose across Thomas' face. "Ew! Gross! Can you- Can you not?"

Logan didn't move from his position or even seem to flinch when one of Remus' tentacles attached itself to Logan's shoulder, but his eyes did quickly dart over to Thomas. "Thomas, why don't you go somewhere else, I'll take care of Remus for now?"

Thomas eagerly escaped, leaving Remus alone with Logan. Logan looked back towards Remus, staring into his eyes for a solid few minutes, neither saying a word, before Remus just broke. Tears starting pouring down Remus' face, and Logan started to look vaguely uncomfortable, stepping back. Remus let go of Logan's tie and stumbled back towards the counter, leaning against it and trying to take some breaths to calm himself down. He didn't even know what was wrong - he wasn't upset, was he? It was very rare that Remus got upset. He thrived off making other people upset, why would he be upset himself?

"Uh, Remus?" Logan asked, stepping towards him again and slowly lifting a hand. "Are you-"

Remus grabbed his wrist in midair before Logan could place a hand on his shoulder. Logan stopped, beginning to look just a little afraid. That just made Remus' insides hurt even more, like all his guts where trying to push out, or like his heart was about to explode. Under any other circumstances, he imagined he would have enjoyed that, or at least enjoyed the looks on the others faces when they saw all his internal organs burst right out of his chest, but in that moment all he wanted was for the feeling to stop so he could maybe torment Logan a little more, let out a little steam.

Remus let go of Logan's wrist and moved away again, now just looking at Logan with... fear in his eyes, as Logan began to rub the red mark forming on his wrist. Without another word, Remus sank out and reappeared on his bed, crying into his pillow. Today wasn't going the way he planned.

~*~

It had been a couple hours since his encounter with Remus in the kitchen, and the curiosity still plagued Logan's mind. What had gone on in there? Logan had never seen Remus like that.

It was strange, as well, that Remus suddenly decided to be a nuisance again. He'd been quiet recently, and, thanks to Janus' help, Thomas was in a much better state mentally. Logan couldn't even begin to imagine why Remus would have been so upset, or why he looked... even worse than usual, somehow dirtier and more unkempt than he always was.

It was due to this concern that Logan found himself outside of Janus' bedroom door, a hand hovering over the wood as he tried to find the courage to knock. Logan didn't have a terrible relationship with Janus, he supposed, although he couldn't really say they were the best of friends, either. He'd certainly never gone into Janus' room before, never even considered that he may need to in the future, but here he was, right outside.

Before Logan got chance to knock, the door slowly opened, revealing Janus on the other side. "Logan," he said, sound a little surprised, "come to lecture me, have you?"

Logan frowned. "What? No." Janus seemed surprised at that, as well. "I... have some concerns that I want to talk to you about. Nothing to do with you or Thomas, I just... you're the only side I can really talk to about this."

Janus hummed, before stepping aside, allowing Logan to enter the room. It looked pretty much like Logan had imagined - walls painted yellow, musical posters hung up, a clothes rack filled with various disguises, and a couple snakes crawling over his desk. Janus went to sit down on his bed and Logan considered sitting down at the desk, but decided against it due to the snakes, one of which was slowly wrapping around the chair, and instead Logan opted to just stand up near the exit.

He breathed in. "Has... Has Remus been acting a little weird recently?"

Janus blinked. "Remus? I..." He glanced down at the floor. "I haven't seen him, actually. Y'know, been a little busy the last week or so working out Thomas' skin care routine."

"Yes, Janus, you're doing a great job on that, by the way."

Janus bowed his head. "Thank you." He looked back up at Logan. "Is there... something wrong with Remus, though? I suppose he has been pretty quiet lately."

"I don't know if there's anything wrong," Logan admitted, "but I spoke with him earlier in the kitchen... sort of. He- He started crying, and he looked a little worse for wear, and it just... got me thinking."

Janus hummed. He sat there for a while, staring at the floor, before his eyes widened and he rushed back to his desk, carefully removing one of the snakes and looking at his calendar. He swore under his breath.

"What?" Logan asked, stepping to the side to move away from the snake now trying to escape the room. "What is it?"

"It's his birthday today."

~*~

Remus found himself staring at the ceiling again, his foot bouncing up and down. He considered breaking into Janus' room and stealing his wine - even if he did hate the taste, it would at least calm his thoughts down a little. But he couldn't seem to get his body to move. Janus wouldn't want Remus in his bedroom, anyway - there must have been a reason that Janus hadn't spoken to him since the wedding, and... if Janus didn't want to be his friend anymore, than fine, in all honestly Remus didn't blame him. Remus was hard to deal with and not a brilliant friend and honestly caused more harm than good, and he knew that. Remus knew now that Janus hated him, and that was perfectly fine - he just wished he didn't come to that realisation on his birthday.

He already knew that the others hated him, anyway. Thomas first reaction to seeing him earlier was just to scream, and then run away as soon as possible. Virgil had hated Remus ever since he left, Patton had always hated Remus, and Roman was... Roman wasn't too bad, although Remus couldn't remember the last time the two of them had a real conversation that didn't just end in insults back and forth. He supposed that Logan earlier hadn't seemed to hate him entirely, although it was obvious that Remus was making him uncomfortable, which meant it was likely that Logan didn't like him either.

He heard his bedroom door open, but didn't tear his eyes away from the spot on the ceiling. It was probably just Roman, back for another few days of sulking - that seemed to be his routine recently, a week or so with the others and then a few days of crying on his bed. Remus didn't really have it in him to care, Roman could do whatever he wanted with his life.

What Remus wasn't expecting was for Roman to scoop him up in his arms and hold him tight. Remus stiffened at the sudden human contact, not entirely sure how to respond - even back when he was still friends with Janus and Virgil, they'd never hug him like this. But...

"Happy birthday, Remus," a voice whispered into his ear. That wasn't Roman. That was...

"Janus?" Remus let out. Janus pulled away from the hug, much to Remus' disappointment. "What are you..."

"I'm sorry it took me so long to remember," Janus said. "And... And that I haven't really been there for you recently. Are you- Are you okay?"

Remus was silent for a long time. He glanced around the room, noticing that Logan had come with Janus, but didn't seem to know what to do now that he was here. Janus still stared at Remus expectantly. Finally, Remus whispered, "No."

Janus pulled him into a hug again, this time refusing to let go. Remus awkwardly hugged back at first, before sinking into his, resting his head on Janus' shoulder. He breathed in and out, trying to ignore how shaky his breath was. He was... okay. Janus was still here, Janus didn't hate him, did he?

Eventually, Janus had to pull away, but still kept his hands on Remus' shoulders. "How about we go blow some stuff up?" Janus suggested. "Remember last year when we set all those building on fire-"

Remus snorted. "Yeah. That was fun."

Janus smiled at him. "We could go do that again to celebrate, if you want."

Remus breathed out, and smiled. "That'd be nice."

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 10

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s IG account ‘whenihaveyou.romione’.

If you’re interested in participating in a fanfiction writing competition for Harry Potter, playing in a Quidditch team and in a Quidditch position (Keeper, Chaser, Beater or Seeker) follow this link here. It’s super fun and well run, as it has been going on for 9 seasons now. 

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Chapter 10

Ron didn’t pry, but he was pleased to see that his words had made some kind of impact on Harry, because on moving day, Ginny appeared the happiest Ron had seen her in a very long time. It seemed Harry had taken his very vague and inexperienced advice and done something to assure Ginny that she was important to him. 

Cheerfully, she offered her assistance in their move. 

Ron didn’t have much to bring over. Just his clothes (which, once he had his own money, he was going to replace), and everything he’d had pinned to his wall. It almost felt a bit childish taking all the Chudley Cannons things he’d collected over the years, but he couldn’t allow his mother to toss them out either, which he knew would happen if he didn’t take them. Perhaps it was time he got a new bedspread, but he could at least store the other stuff away somewhere as keepsakes. 

He’d just watched the last of his possessions fly into a large cardboard box when Ginny came into his room and sat down on his now bare bed. She looked around at the empty walls, where all of his posters had once been, and smiled. “Ah, so that is the colour of your walls?”

“Ha, ha.”

“Hermione will be disappointed,” Ginny continued. “She actually told me she thought your obsession with the Cannons was endearing; even when I told her you’d had it that way since you were five.”

“Really?” Ron asked, his mind suddenly picturing an even bigger room for more souvenirs. “She likes my room?” 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “She loves a lot about you, Chudley-Cannons-obsession included.” She looked at the box on the floor and smiled. “But I’d still think of a new way to decorate.”

“You’re being unnaturally nice,” Ron said, suddenly suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just assume I have you to thank for Harry’s sudden change in attitude.”

Ron flushed. “Er, he told you about that?”. He really didn’t want to engage with Ginny in a conversation about this. It was one thing giving Harry advice; it was a whole other thing to have to talk to his sister about her lovelife. Though, from what she had just told him, it seemed that Hermione and Ginny didn’t seem to have an issue discussing theirs.

“No, but it was such a sudden change, I assumed someone was in his ear, and you were the one I told about my frustrations, so I figured… well, thanks, Ron.”

“Anytime,” Ron mumbled, not meeting her eye. “Someone needed to say it. I don’t want him messing you around.”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Ginny continued, as if she was oblivious to his awkwardness. “You and I, being friends. I mean, you’re my brother and I love you, but it’s almost as if we’re friends now, too.”

“I guess,” Ron said, the thought only just occurring to him that he had, in fact, been spending a lot of time with his sister since the war. “It makes sense, I suppose. I’m friends with Harry, you’re friends with Hermione, I’m with Hermione, you’re… with Harry.” The last part came out in a squeak.

Ginny snorted. “It really makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Me being with Harry?”

“Well, you are my sister,” Ron said, “and he’s my best mate, and… you’re my sister, and it just feels… weird. But I’m alright so long as I don’t hear about the intimate details —”

“Says you, who shares that with Harry!” Ginny scoffed. 

“That’s different,” Ron said. 

“How?” 

“Hermione isn’t his little sister.”

Ginny laughed. “You being my brother doesn’t seem to stop her…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ginny stood up from the bed, grinning. Then, catching Ron completely off guard, she hugged him. Ron hugged her back, and he realised that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even hugged his sister. They must have been really young…

“What was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.

“For standing up for me,” Ginny said. “Even when I don’t need it, even when I resent you for it, even when it’s to your best friend. Thank you.”

“Er, anytime.” Ron picked the box up from the floor, and Ginny followed him down the many flights of stairs until they reached the bottom. Harry was already waiting, with even less stuff than Ron had. 

It was a stark reminder for Ron that while Harry may have been famous in the wizarding world, he had grown up with less than Ron had. It had taken Ron a very long time to work it out; that his best friend in the whole world had had a miserable life growing up thanks to his Muggle relatives, and most of the time, Harry had never sought the attention he got. 

Ron got that now, and he no longer envied Harry. In fact, he felt sorry for him. Ron wanted nothing less than to ever be in Harry’s shoes. 

Harry eyed the box Ron carried in his arms, then smiled. “Plan on decorating the house?” he asked.

“No,” Ron said. “I just don’t want Mum throwing them out. Although,” he looked to Ginny, “apparently Hermione finds it endearing, so you never know.”

Harry snorted and then nodded to the fireplace. “You ready?”

“Yep.” 

It felt very odd to be leaving the Burrow, knowing that he’d never be back. Not to be living there, anyway. He’d probably still come over for dinner often, and to visit. This had been the only home he had known, and as small and as crowded as it was, it was still home, and, if he was being honest, always would be. No matter where he lived in the future, he’d always remember the Burrow. 

Molly gave them each a hug, wiping her eyes and carrying on like it would be the last time she’d ever see them. She then placed a container of food on top of Ron’s box. 

“That’s so you boys don’t go hungry tonight.” She sniffed, gave them both another hug, and finally stepped back to give them access to the fireplace. 

“It’s alright, Mum,” Ron said, throwing some Floo powder into it. “We’ll come back to visit often. You’re all good.”

Ron let Harry go first, considering it was his house. Ginny said goodbye to him in a way that forced Ron to look away. She said something about seeing him tomorrow, letting him settle in. Then Harry was gone. 

With one last goodbye (to his family and his home), Ron followed and was soon stepping into the much darker room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. 

He looked around, a strange feeling settling upon him, and it wasn’t because this was now his home; Grimmauld Place had always made him feel a little uncomfortable, even when it had been bustling with the Order.

“The Blacks were a miserable sort, weren’t they?” he said to Harry. “We definitely need to brighten this place up a bit if we’re going to be living here.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, definitely can’t live here with house-elf heads all through the house. Hermione would have a fit. They’ll be the first to go. Maybe some new furniture, too. Something more…”

“Colourful?” Ron offered, looking down at his box of Chudley Cannons stuff again. “I mean —”

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Harry promised. “For now, let’s just sort out what’s what.”

Ron followed Harry up the creaky staircase, stopping on the landing with the covered portrait of Walburga Black. “I really wish that could go,” he said. “Not sure I fancy coming down for breakfast every morning and having to see her.” He shuddered, still remembering the times she’d screeched for hours at a time when he, Harry and Hermione had stayed there for a brief time on their Horcrux hunt. 

“We’ll work on that, too,” Harry said. “Maybe Auror training will teach us some new tricks that we can use.”

“If Moody couldn’t do it, do you think we can?” Ron asked. 

Harry shrugged, continuing up the stairs until they reached some of the bedrooms. 

“You can have that one,” Ron said, indicating the one Harry had lived in for a bit after the war. “If you want, I mean. I guess we have plenty to choose from.”

“Nah, this will do me,” Harry said. “Which one will you pick?”

Ron contemplated some of the wooden doors. One had belonged to Sirius’ parents, which he flat out refused to even consider. Another was the one he’d stayed in just the other year. “That one, I guess.”

Harry nodded. 

Ron pushed open the door to the room slightly down the hall and opposite Harry’s room. It was just as he had left it before; cold, dark and rather gloomy. At least this time he had the means to change it. 

He set the box down and turned to Harry. “Are we crazy for living here?” he asked. “It’s not the best place in the world…”

“It’s the only other home I know,” Harry said. “It’ll be alright for a while, won’t it?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess. It’s huge for the two of us, though.”

“Would have been even bigger with just me.” And Ron saw the grateful smile Harry gave him. It warmed Ron; he was welcome here. 

“So,” Ron began, “what should we do on our first night here?”

…

The answer to that question was to have a quiet night in. That evening, around dinner time, Ron fetched the food his mother had given them, and they sat in the large kitchen at the end of the table to eat it. It wasn’t much, but it was more than what either of them could have cooked for themselves.

“So, maybe shopping for food is the first step tomorrow?” Ron asked as he sent his empty plate flying to the sink. “Where is Kreacher, anyway?”

“I… dismissed him,” Harry said. “When I first came back. He wasn’t too pleased about it, but he’s free now. Who knows where he’s gone, but I’m sure if we ever need him, he’ll be glad to come back to the house of his old master.”

“Right, so I guess we’ll be doing our own dishes then?” Ron said, and Harry smirked.

“Don’t let Hermione hear you saying that,” he said. 

“Don’t plan on it,” Ron said, yawning. To his surprise, he realised that that was the first time since that morning that he’d thought about Hermione. In the hours leading up to dinner, he and Harry had attempted to brighten up the place, but to no avail. “I hope she’s alright,” he added after a moment.

“Percy said she was fine, didn’t he?” Harry asked. “That it was all going to plan?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, but I’d love to hear from her personally, you know? I guess it takes a while for an owl to get here from Australia.”

“I guess…” Harry looked around the empty kitchen, frowning. “Hey, you don’t fancy a Butterbeer, do you?”

“Sure,” Ron said. “You got any?”

“No,” Harry said, “but I can get some. Why don’t we really celebrate our first night as housemates?”

“By getting drunk?” Ron asked. 

“No, by, just… celebrating?”

Ron grinned. “Sounds like a plan, mate. Listen, you get them this time, and once we start getting paid for the training, I’ll do the next one.” Once again, he felt a thrill rush through him over the thought of making his own money. There were so many things he wanted to do with it that he doubted he’d be able to do it all on the first go. 

“Agreed,” Harry said and he clambered from his seat. “Won’t be too long,” and he vanished down the hall, where Ron heard the whoosh of Harry disappearing via the fireplace. 

The house immediately became quieter the moment Harry was gone. Ron got up from his own chair and wandered back down the hall and to the stairs. He contemplated writing to Hermione while Harry was out and letting her know that he wasn’t at the Burrow anymore. But then he decided against it. She had far more important things to worry about than him telling her that he’d moved house. He’d mention it in a reply whenever he received an update from her. 

Instead, he moved into the living area, which — like the rest of the house — was dark and bland. Sirius had hated this place growing up and as an adult, and Ron had never been a fan of it. It held a lot of memories for him, good and bad, and he hoped that eventually he’d be able to erase the bad ones entirely. 

He moved into the drawing room and sat down on the sofa, smiling slightly to himself. Here had been a good memory for him. It hadn’t been that long ago, though it felt like a lifetime. It was the first night here after escaping the wedding, and they’d all been terrified of being discovered after the attack in Muggle London. 

Ron remembered how he’d insisted he sleep on the floor and let Hermione sleep on the cushions. It seemed silly now, considering all that had happened, but it had felt right at the time. He’d been so desperate to prove himself to her despite having just fled an attack on theirs — and everyone else’s — lives. In fact, it had seemed even more important in that moment to give her some sign about how he felt. How many more days would they have together?

And it had kind of worked, too, for not long after Harry had fallen asleep she’d shifted on the cushions, her head turning slightly to face him. She’d been so close in that moment, and even with his own fear for his family, his father’s Patronus the only word that they were safe, her presence soothed him. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered. 

Those two words put everything else aside then, and he reached for her hand and squeezed it. 

“Me too,” was all he said. 

He had expected her to let go after that, but she didn’t, and he had absolutely no intention of letting go if she didn’t want to. They’d fallen asleep like that, and it had been the calmest he had felt in a very long time. 

In the present, he sat there for a long while, until Harry returned carrying some bottles of Butterbeer and one large bottle of Firewhisky. He held them up. “All ready to go!” he said.

The remainder of the evening was great, Ron thought. They chatted, mostly about Quidditch and what would happen once the new season started. Ron, as usual, had higher expectations for the Cannons than he should have, while Harry said if it was possible, he’d really like to attend a game or two. His only experience in watching the professionals was in the World Cup, which had been years ago now.

“I hear Oliver Wood is actually getting a chance to play this year,” Ron said. “So the Prophet says, anyway.”

They both smiled at that, and as amusing as it was, Harry and Ron agreed that they were genuinely pleased for the old Gryffindor captain. 

“Though, I’ll be honest, it would be a sweet victory if the Cannons beat Puddlemere,” Ron said. 

As the evening wore on, and the Butterbeer bottles slowly emptied, Ron found himself contemplating what life was going to be like in the coming months. The day after next he’d be all consumed with training, but what would happen after that? Once training was complete? Would he become a real Auror? Someone who could go on missions, catch Dark wizards? 

And what of his life with Hermione? She wanted to finish school, and he had no doubt that once she got her one hundred NEWTs or whatever exceptional result she was capable of, she’d be highly sought after in whatever career she chose to pursue. But then what? 

“You alright there?” Harry asked, snapping Ron from his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You looked as if you were lost in thought,” Harry said. “And you had a stupid grin on your face.”

“Oh, right.” Ron felt his ears burning. “I was just thinking.” He wasn’t sure Harry would appreciate him talking about how he just simply could not imagine a future that didn’t involve Hermione in it anymore, so to change the topic, he said, “This’ll be great, won’t it?”

“What will?” Harry asked.

“The two of us living together?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a small smile. “I think it’ll be fantastic.”

[thisbrokenmask]

Havana Nights

Title: Havana Nights

Pairing: Jin x reader

Genre: Meet-cute, flirting

Warnings: sexual tension?, Jin being a big-ass flirt, Y/N also being a big-ass flirt

Word Count: 5.1k

Song inspiration: Airplane Pt. 2

A/N: Even though ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo Event is now over, I’m still planning on finishing as many of the songs on my bingo card as I can! I was actually working on this in plenty of time before the end of the event but I just couldn’t get the wording right until this week. 

I also didn’t realise I would end up writing for Jin the most before I started this but what can I say, WWH just does things to me ig.

You were grateful for the cool rush of air that graced your skin as you entered the bar; the fan fixed above the door was one of many attempting to circulate air around the room, but was the only one that would actually grant any relief from the sticky heat of the midsummer night. You knew that as soon as you took another step into the bar you would be hit by the feverish aura radiating from the undulating mass of writhing bodies on the dancefloor, so you took a few moments to revel in the cool relief before you left it.

Pulling your hair away from your neck and tilting your head to the side to allow the fanned air to hit your pulse point, you smiled at the music that met your ears. You couldn’t see much above the crowd, but you could tell that Ernesto had found another band to perform live rather than playing the same well-loved tracks each night on his beloved jukebox. 

You made your way through the crowd towards the bar, helpless against the smile that pulled at your lips when you saw Ernesto already pouring you a drink. You’d always wanted to come to Cuba, something about the classic cars and the brightly-coloured streets drawing you in, so when you’d decided to travel on your own - a la Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love - Cuba had been first on your list. You hadn’t really had a plan when you’d arrived, but you’d quickly settled in and found a few friends, even writing articles for a local magazine to get you by once your savings started to look a bit thin. You’d met Ernesto no more than a week into your time in Havana, when you’d wandered into the nicest-looking bar near your temporary apartment and he’d immediately taken you under his wing. You were the same age as his own daughter, apparently, but she’d decided to go to graduate school in America and he was missing her, so he made sure he looked after girls like you when they came into his establishment. You had grown to care for him in return, as him being roughly the same age as your own father made it easy to return the familial affection. Carmella, his wife, had started popping round to your apartment to bring you food a few times a week before you eventually started being invited for dinner on a regular basis. As the weeks had gone on, you’d found yourself feeling like this might just be your new home, at least for the foreseeable future, and Ernesto and Carmella had been delighted when you’d told them as such. 

You spent several nights a week at his bar, either chatting to him and some regulars you’d befriended just to be out of the house after a day of writing, or to cut a little loose on the weekends. Ernesto often refused to let men buy you a drink, adamant none of them were good enough for you, but all it took was a smile from you and he would back down, never intervening if you wanted to approach someone on your own. 

“Buena noches, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile, sliding your favourite daiquiri towards you as you took a seat at the bar. 

“Buena noches, Tio,” you greeted him in return, wrapping your hand around the ice-filled glass and feeling the condensation wet your skin. “New singers tonight?”

Ernesto grinned at you before looking over to the group of heads you could see bobbing on the other side of the crowd. “Sí! They come to me last night, seven of them! They ask to perform here, I say they have to prove they can sing first,” Ernesto recounts the story to you and several other patrons as he continues to serve drinks, everyone listening with a smile as he raises a finger, as if he’s about to confide a secret. “They come this morning, they sing a few songs for me and Carmella and I put them straight on the board for tonight!” He laughs as he gestures towards the bar’s entrance, referring to the small notice board that sits on the wall outside to which he attaches the names of the bands he lets play here. You curse yourself for not checking it before you came in. “I don’t understand a lot of it but I’ve been around long enough to know they’re good. They’re from Korea, can you believe? From Korea to my little bar in Havana!” Ernesto is chuckling to himself about the strings of fate being pulled in such a way to bring this band to him, his patrons unable to hold back their grins at his unfaltering spirit, and his awe of them deepens your curiosity ten-fold.

Craning your neck, you attempt to catch sight of the singers through the crowd but can only spy several heads of hair as they bop in time to the beat of their current song. You count six in total; sleek black, two dirty blonds, dark red, what you believe is a head of pale pink, and a wide-brimmed cream hat, but you struggle to see more than glimpses of the faces beneath. Taking a sip of your drink through your straw, the combination of sharp lemon and smooth white rum floods your taste buds as you continue to watch for gaps in the crowd. The music changes several times before you drain your glass, but all of them have kept the crowd thriving and grinding in front of you. 

Placing your empty glass back on the bar, you tuck your hair behind your ear and straighten out your dress as you stand up. You slip between the bodies, letting yourself sink into the heat and the movement of the bodies around you that push and pull like a hot ocean tide. You’ve come to find the sticky heat of the crowds here comforting, almost blissful in how easily they melt away the stresses and worries of your daily life. Ernesto’s is your haven, and the effect of the dancefloor is now instantaneous.

You push your way to the front, bodies parting easily to let you through, and find yourself staring into the shining dark eyes of who you assume is the seventh man that you couldn’t see before. His blond hair is brighter than the other two you had already spotted, shimmering under the lights like the finest white-gold thread.

You notice his eyes quickly glance over you before a small smirk tugs at the corner of his plush lips, his singing uninterrupted. The air of professionalism around him strikes you, as you’re used to a lot of amateur musicians coming through and getting flustered by the proximity of the crowds. You feel heat rise in your cheeks at his close scrutiny of your outfit, your face, and your body, but you also feel heat settle in your abdomen as his gaze never breaks from your own. To grant yourself some minor relief, you look away to observe their set up, your suspicions that they’re more than a travelling band being confirmed the more you see.   

An invisible line on the floor has been mutually agreed between them and the patrons in lieu of an actual stage, a laptop, a few speakers and seven microphones the extent of their equipment. All seven of them are dressed impeccably, their outfits clearly chosen to appear casual and lightweight to suit the heat, yet the evidence of high-quality labels is visible to those who pay attention. All seven of them are also incredibly handsome in their own rights, a combination of sharp and softer jawlines all presided over by deep brown eyes. 

There wasn’t enough room for choreography, but the subtle moves they could pull off were infallibly synchronised. Whether it was shifting their weight from foot to foot in a sway to the beat or performing simple gestures with their arms, as you look down the row of them you could see that none of them were even half a second out of sync. 

The singer in front of you is still watching you, although the intensity of his gaze seems to have lessened slightly while you’ve been distracted. When you look back to him, you see a harder edge start to creep back in again and it stokes the heat in your abdomen. 

You let your gaze drift down him and he watches with interest as you drink in the sight of him. The loose material of his shirt keeps you from being able to distinguish where his waist tapers, but it does nothing to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You briefly wonder what it would be like to hold onto them if he was holding himself above you and whether you’d be able to feel the muscles flexing under your fingers, but you blink the thoughts away, hoping your open appreciation wasn’t too obvious. His simple black jeans accentuate the length of his legs and the strength of his thighs, and you definitely feel your temperature rise as you skim back upwards to his face. 

If you weren’t looking into them, you might not believe that human eyes could be as dark as the ones in front of you, but given the way they burn into yours as soon as they meet, swirling with intrigue and temptation, you’d be a fool to deny the power they hold. You barely notice the song has ended, only becoming aware of it once the man in front of you turns away and walks towards the back of the stage, but not before dropping you a wink. You’re confused but too wired up to turn away, feeling adrenaline rush through your veins as you watch eagerly to see what’s happening. The seven singers gather together briefly, grabbing bottles of water and towels to dab at their faces as they murmur between themselves. The crowd behind you has stilled, but the hum of applause and conversation prevents silence from falling. Soon enough, the band breaks apart to form a vague line, looking out to the crowd before the tallest one steps forward to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for allowing us to entertain you tonight,” his voice is deep and smooth and his accented American gives his words a lilt that makes him even more charming. It’s definitely the voice of a man charismatic enough to apparently be the band’s leader, you think. The crowd applauds behind you, cheers and whoops ringing out loud enough that the leader has to wait a few seconds to speak again. “We’ve thoroughly enjoyed singing for you tonight, and we hope you’ve enjoyed our performance. We’re going to take a break now, but we’ll be back after a short while. For now, please speak to our man, Yunki, if you have any requests.” He gestures to the dark red-headed man to his left, who raises his hand in a wave before heading to the back of the stage and leaning over the laptop, clicking buttons.

The blond you’d been eyeing catches your eye again, the two of you immediately locking gazes. You’ve never experienced a pull towards another person as intense as this before, especially when it’s only after eye contact, and you feel your knees weakening under his gaze. The rest of the members begin to disperse, most heading in your direction to head towards the bar, your blond beau cocking an eyebrow as he begins to walk towards you. Feeling a rush of confidence under his heated stare, you let your lips twitch into a coy smile before turning and making your way back through the crowd, feeling your heart race with excitement and hope that he’s following you as you suspect he will. 

You return to the bar to find your earlier seat still vacant, but your empty glass has been removed and the bartop wiped down. You see Ernesto already grabbing a fresh glass before you even take your seat, a knowing smile in his eyes as he shakes his head fondly at you and a grin breaking across your lips. You see his eyes flicker to something behind you before returning to finishing your drink but, before you can turn to look, he brings your drink to you and places it down with a flourish. 

“And what can I get for the best singers my bar has ever seen?” 

You hear several low chuckles from behind you, five of the seven men having gathered behind you to order from the bar. You turn on the stool to sit sideways, Ernesto on your right and the band on your left, and your eyes immediately meet with the blond at the back of the group. He’s already gazing at you by the time you turn around, his dark eyes steadily watching you, the same smirk from earlier once again pushing up the corner of his lips. He seems to be as interested in you as you are in him, which sends a thrill pulsing through your body. 

“Five of your coldest beers, please, sir,” the leader says in front of you with a charming smile as he dips a hand into his pockets to find his money, “and a single of your finest whiskey, too. Neat, please.” 

“Coming right up!” Ernesto turns to start the drinks, leaving the six of you to exchange silent smiles before you decide to speak.

“You guys are the best band I’ve ever seen here,” you tell them, turning more to lean against the bar as you speak. “I’m pretty sure Ernesto would keep you here permanently if you let him.”

“Ah, thank you very much,” the leader bows his head slightly with a grin, his eyes scrunching closed adorably, his cheeks dimpling. A few more thank yous echo from around the group, all of them having heard your compliment, proud yet bashful grins lighting up all of their faces. “I’m Namjoon,” he offers his hand to you, which you take, and he shakes it gently.

“Y/N,” you offer back with a smile as he releases your hand. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” he says. “It suits you.” 

You can’t help the hard blush that burns your cheeks, especially when you see the other singers nodding in agreement with him, but you still preen under their complimentary smiles. It’s hard not to feel flattered when you have five very handsome and obviously talented gentlemen agreeing that you’re beautiful.

“You’re too kind,” you say instead, taking a sip through your straw to hide your smile and attempt to cool yourself down slightly. When you return the glass to the bar, Namjoon turns to introduce you to the other men at his side.

“Where are my manners?” he says with a chuckle. “Y/N, let me introduce you to my friends. This is Seokjin-hyung,” he gestures to the man at the back, ushering him to the front and making your heart hammer in your chest as the man you can’t stop staring at steps forward.

The word ‘hello’ has never seemed so attractive as it does when he says it, taking your hand in his and dipping down to press a light kiss to your skin. You miss the others roll their eyes and laugh quietly at his antics, too enchanted by the deep eyes you’re finally seeing up close: they’re dark as sin, yet they glimmer under the lights in a way that reminds you of obsidian glass. He lifts his head once more, his blond hair appearing almost white when it catches the light as he does so, and looks at you with a small smile, saying, “Please, call me Jin.” He holds your gaze and you find yourself nodding dumbly, completely entranced. You don’t see the knowing looks passed between the men around you before he’s stepping back and letting your hand gently slip from his grasp, as if he can’t quite bring himself to let you go. 

Namjoon glances between the two of you with a smirk, clearing his throat gently to break the eye contact between you. You shake your head slightly and send a small apologetic smile his way, but he’s either very understanding or doesn’t notice as he gestures to the next man.

“This is Hoseok-”

“Please, call me Hobi.” You don’t miss the snickers this time as he copies his bandmate, although he skips the kiss to your hand. The radiant grin he offers as he shakes your hand instead is contagious and you’re sure it would be enough to cheer you up if you weren’t already in such a good mood. His black hair is parted down the middle and sits gently above his eyebrows, and you wonder if all of them get dimples in their cheeks when they smile, because so far you’re three for three.

“Jimin,” Namjoon gestures to the next man along, whose handsome features are so delicately refined you’d possibly call him beautiful instead, his face blessed with a devilish combination of a sharp jaw and soft eyes, plush lips and apple cheeks.

“It’s a pleasure,” he smiles, bowing nearly 45 degrees as he takes your hand. His voice is as melodic when he talks as you remember it was when you saw him sing just minutes ago, although it seems slightly deeper in conversation.

“Our youngest, Jungkook,” Namjoon gestures to the man standing at your left elbow, who you definitely wouldn’t have guessed was the youngest. He’s taller than Jimin, looks like he might be taller than Hobi as well, and even his arms held politely in front of him can’t hide how broad his chest is. You suppose his eyes give his youth away, wide and curious as they are underneath his peach-pink hair, but he still quirks his lips in a smile as he greets you. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says with a shallower bow than Jimin’s, and his deep voice takes you by surprise - you’re pretty sure you witnessed him effortlessly hitting several high notes that you could only dream of reaching. You’re not sure if it’s his age, but he seems more nervous than the others and lets go of your hand sooner than his friends.

“The two over there,” Namjoon leans closer to you as he points to the two men still standing by the equipment, one you recognise as the ‘Yunki’ previously introduced to the crowd when they announced their break and the other talking to him quietly, watching as Yunki taps away at his laptop. “- are Yunki-hyung and Tae. Tae’s the one with the hat.” You giggle at how bluntly he says it, missing the way all of them watch you with gentle smiles as you do so.

“Hyung?” you look to Jin questioningly, feeling the weight of the foreign word on your tongue as you try to figure out its meaning. “Brothers?”

All of the men chuckle slightly, but none of them come across as malicious or even teasing. “Sort of,” he grins with a nod. “But probably not in the way you’re thinking,” he explains, and you find yourself unable to look away from the kindness in his eyes as he elaborates. “It’s a Korean word, not a surname. More like a term of endearment. We use it to address our friends - and our actual brothers - who are older than us; it’s like a sign of respect.”

“I see,” you nod, offering a sheepish smile to the rest of your company. “My mistake.” They all shake their heads good-naturedly, clearly used to having to explain this to people as they’ve travelled. Your mind briefly wonders how old they all are, whether they’re older or younger than you. “So, would I use it? If you’re older than me, I mean.”

“No, no,” another chuckle escapes Namjoon as he pushes his hair back, another quiet titter of laughter spreading through the group. “‘Hyung’ is just for guys, and only when they talk to other guys that are older than them, family or not.” He pauses, frowning slightly as he considers just how much detail to go into in the middle of a bar. He’s not in the mood to give a full honorifics lesson and, by the way your eyes shift to Jin, he supposes you aren’t in the mood to hear one, either. “There are different words for everyone, really.”

“So what would I call you guys?” Now that your focus on Namjoon has been broken, you struggle to keep it away from Jin for more than a few seconds, your eyes constantly drifting back to him. It allows you to notice the way his pupils dilate slightly at your question, his voice sounding before Namjoon even has a chance to take a breath.

“‘Oppa’,” he tells you, his hungry gaze holding onto yours as if he’s daring you to look away from him.

“Oppa?” You ask experimentally, letting the word roll off your tongue and exaggerating the pout of your lips as you do, taking note of the way his shoulders seem to tense when he hears you say it. You bite into the corner of your lip to try and stop the smirk you can feel pushing at your cheeks, vaguely aware that there are four other men here watching you essentially eye-fuck their friend. 

Your gaze is broken when Ernesto returns just moments later with five of his largest bottles of beer, holding them by their necks before he places them down, pools of water immediately gathering on the bar from the condensation dripping off the bottles. You sit up again and turn back to watch him, barely even seeing the small bottle opener tucked between his fingers as he expertly plucks off all the bottle caps, dropping them all into the bin you know he keeps behind the bar for that very purpose. You cock an eyebrow at him, silently questioning how it seemed to take him much longer than normal to collect a couple of beers, but he simply winks at you with a smile. You shake your head lightheartedly, knowing that his tardiness is his way of giving you time with these men and an unspoken sign of his opinion that at least one of them might just be good enough for you. He retrieves a glass next and then reaches up for a bottle of whiskey you’ve never seen him serve before. The seal is broken but it looks like barely more than a few singles have ever been served out of it. You wince at the thought of the price tag the drink must come with, especially given how small it is, and also wonder which one of them is the one with such a refined taste. 

Your eyes drift to Jin, wondering if his lips will be the ones coated in the sweet, oaky taste of whiskey and whether you’d be able to taste it if you kissed him afterwards, but for once he’s not actually looking at you. He’s murmuring something into Hobi’s ear, his face turned away from you so that you can only see the round outline of his cheeks and the sharp rise of his jawline. You notice the back of his ears have gone slightly pink, but it’s Hobi’s mischievous smile towards you that really captures your attention. Whatever Jin’s saying, you’re growing more sure with every second that it’s about you, especially when Hobi winks at you, but you’re aware that the little you can hear from this distance is Korean. You tell yourself you’re just imagining things as you move your hair back off your shoulders, although you’re not sure if you do so to cool yourself down or to distract yourself. 

“Anything else?” Ernesto asks, smiling warmly at the men beside you, and Jungkook mumbles something to Namjoon in their native tongue that makes the leader startle, his eyes widening almost comically.

“Oh! A glass of water, please,” he says, putting notes down on the bar.

Ernesto nods but pushes the notes back towards Namjoon before he goes to get the final drink. You watch Namjoon’s face contort in confusion, stifling a laugh when he looks at you for an answer.

“Did I do something wrong?” he whispers, unsure if he’s missed a cultural cue or has been impolite in some way. 

“No, no,” you assure him gently, resting your chin on your hand, but hold off from giving him any further explanation until Ernesto returns. 

“Excuse me, sir, did I pay the wrong amount?” Namjoon’s hesitant, probably painfully aware that Ernesto is responsible for his current employment but desperately wanting to do the right thing. 

“My singers don’t pay,” Ernesto says firmly, ignoring the money Namjoon’s holding out to him as he pushes the drinks forward. You notice Jimin stand a little taller at this, nudging Jungkook with his elbow and grinning, wiggling his eyebrows at what he’s essentially just heard as meaning an open bar, but Hobi sends him a slight warning glare and his grin turns into a smirk that he tries to hide behind pretending to wipe his upper lip. 

If nothing else happens, you’re certain you’ve found a reasonable drinking buddy in Jimin, should he wish to join you after his set. 

“I’ll take this to Yunki-hyung,” Hobi says, picking up the glass of whiskey before taking one of the beers and walking away. 

“Pass me the water, please, hyung,” Jimin says, pointing to the glass. Namjoon passes it over to him, then grabs two beers and gives one each to Jimin and Jungkook. You watch them follow Hobi back through the crowd, Jimin passing the water to Taehyung before offering a sip of his beer, which Tae sniffs but seems skeptical, taking a large drink of water instead, much to Jimin’s apparent amusement.

You’re left with Namjoon and Jin, Namjoon still trying to insist he pays Ernesto in as polite a way as he can muster, while Jin leans past him to take his drink. He leans right between you and Namjoon, leaving you staring directly at his broad chest merely inches from your face. You’ve barely had a chance to take in the sweet, woody aroma of his cologne before he’s pulling away again, a hint of something close to cinnamon lingering before he disappears. 

You don’t turn to watch him leave, returning your focus to Namjoon’s valiant yet pointless efforts in order to distract yourself from the heavy weight sinking in your chest. You’d thought Jin would stay and talk to you, especially with the way you’d both been eyeing each other all night, and you can’t say you’re not disappointed.

Although, the feeling doesn’t last for long.

“So, tell me,” you almost jump at the words that are murmured in your ear, turning on your barstool to see Jin taking a seat on the one beside you. His body is leant forward towards you, close enough to keep your conversation private and, once you’ve turned fully, for your knees to brush against his. “If singers don’t pay here, how am I supposed to buy you a drink?”

“Well, oppa,” you lean closer to him, emphasising your newly-learnt word as you place your hand on his thigh, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, hard. “I’m sure you could think of something else you could give me.” The muscles under your fingers tense and you’re sure you both feel the jolt of electricity that passes between you, even if you do still curse the denim that prevents you from feeling the skin of his thigh directly under your fingertips. 

“I’m sure I could,” his eyes once again drift down your body, unabashed in how he so brazenly drinks in the way your skin shimmers under the lights. You hear Namjoon cough awkwardly behind you before he walks away, but you can’t pull your eyes away from Jin. He wets his lips as he zones in on the exposed curve of your neck, your eyes following the brief flash of pink of his tongue before you lock eyes once more. 

“Dinner, maybe?” His eyes drop to your mouth when you speak, fascinated by the way your lips mould around your words.

“Sounds good.”

“Mmm, I agree.” You’ve both been gradually leaning in closer and now you can feel his breath as it ghosts over your skin, resisting the shiver that scurries up your spine in favour of scaling his thigh with your hand. There’s barely a few inches of space between your noses now, both pairs of eyes darting rapidly to take in every feature they can. The hand that was holding his drink on the bar now begins to lightly caress your upper arm, drawing small circles with the wet condensation on his fingers. 

“What are you doing later?”

“All the restaurants will be shut by the time you guys finish,” you tell him with a grin, but he’s undeterred.

“I’ll cook for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You any good?”

“Never had any complaints.” You get the distinct feeling he’s not just talking about food anymore when his hand goes from drawing circles on your arm to gently wrapping around it to hold you close. 

“What can you do?”

“Whatever you want,” he declares, briefly letting go of your arm to tuck your hair behind your ear. His hand lingers, his fingers gently playing with your hair. 

“Sounds promising.” Your fingers brush against the bottom of his belt, your heart rate rapidly increasing as you feel his breath against your own lips. 

“Jin-hyung!” You can’t help but laugh at the rush of air on your lips when Jin sighs, his head dropping slightly, and above the crowd you hear what sounds like Hobi yelping and several different laughs. Jin looks back up to you, an apologetic smile on his lips as you both feel the heat of the moment begin to slip away, although he still plays with the ends of your hair.

“They’re calling you,” you mumble, your hand slipping back down his thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. He looks over your shoulder and lifts his chin slightly in acknowledgement of his band before turning back to you, his palm finally coming to cup your cheek.

“I’ll see you later?” 

“For dinner?” you smirk, and a dark gleam returns to his eyes as he bites his lip.

“For dinner.”

If you would like to read my other works, please visit my masterlist

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

just physical | ii

Pairing: Hendery x Reader

Genre: steamy angst ig

Tags: justphysical!au, fratboy!hendery, fwb!au

Warnings: language, mature content, vague mentions of sex

day 12 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: *takes place three weeks before just physical

// we both said this was just physical, but one of us lied // (x)

--

[13:03]

“You wanna come over?” Hendery’s voice sounded strange, unusually hardened this afternoon as it fell through the silted speaker of your cracked phone. There was something wrong, that much you knew from the absence of that playful lilt usually found in his soft voice. A frown marred your features. You knew from experiences and the ghosts of bruises littering your hips that this time, his simple invitation wasn’t a question of whether or not you were coming, it was instead a question of how soon you were going to get there. You took a moment, letting the sounds of his uneven breaths cloud over your previously clear mind. 

Glaring down at the dozens of tabs decorating the internet browser on your computer, you debated turning him down today. 

“How well would you take ‘I got homework’ as an answer?” Perhaps, rather than aggravating him further, you should have given him a different answer. Perhaps you should have explained what you were doing and why he could have waited another couple hours. Perhaps you should have asked what was wrong because as soon as the words left your lips, an impatient growl left his. 

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N. If it’s math, just bring it over and I’ll help you with it after. If it’s English, we can slip it on Yang Yang’s desk. Fuck it, if it’s history, Kun owes me one. But -just, can you-” You nearly got lost in the sudden onslaught of desperate words that fell, sloppily strung together into one of your ears and out the other. Another cursory glance over your work. Review week was coming up and after that, finals. Did you really have enough time to spare for another spontaneous rendezvous? Another mental calculation; how much longer would this work take you? If you were going over to Hendery’s for the reasons you suspected, you knew the work had no chance of getting completed. 

But an irked sigh left your lips and - knowing he could wait another couple seconds - you let yourself fall back against your desk chair and into memories of the better hours you had spent together. 

There were evenings where he’d kiss every inch of your body, watching you quiver beneath him with that infuriating smirk in his eyes; you felt your heart thrill every time he looked at you like that. Sometimes there were nights where you would fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat up against your cheek; firm and well conditioned from years of dance, you could spend years memorizing the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingers. And of course, there were mornings you’d wake up beside him and see him tracing the lines of your lips, your neck, your body with his eyes before realizing you were awake and shooting you a gentle smile. The better part of you knew that wasn’t what fuck buddies did and the entirety of your heart ached to think he didn’t want anything more. Another second of radio silence before your lips parted to answer.

“Y/N-” Hendery spoke again, words tight and painful to hear. 

“Fine,” you groaned. You knew it was worthless to play hard to get; both you and he knew you’d end up in his arms at the end of the night. It didn’t make it any less irritating, how easily the brunette theatre major could sway your entire afternoon plans. Slamming your computer shut, you shimmied into the closest jacket you could find and pushed down any stirring signs of excitement before calling out to where your cellular device sat, waiting on the table. “I’ll be over in 10 minutes. Lemme just put on pants.”

“Or you could jus-” 

You hung up before he could say anything more. Begrudgingly slipping a pair of yoga pants on before pulling up your hood, you tightened the strings, tucked your phone and keys into the side pocket of your pants, and stalked out of your room. At this point, you didn’t even know who you were more upset with. 

It was Yang Yang who opened the door for you, smirk settled knowingly onto his lips. As frustrating as the German exchange student could be at times, you didn’t know whether to be thankful or weary when he stepped to the side, nodding you in the direction of his and Hendery’s shared room. Just like text when you’re done, kay? You mumbled out a low, ‘thank you’ before trudging slowly down the hallway. 

The frat house was a lot different during the daytime, in the middle of a school week. Books and printed assignments littered random surfaces of each room you passed, along with the occasional unfolded article of clothing you hoped were all men’s clothing. Unlike the parties you had been to, there was no obnoxiously flashing LED lights, no pumping music, nothing to make you feel uneasy… almost like a regular house. A regular house inhabited by almost twenty other guys. It shouldn’t have surprised you, though, you had been over plenty of times before like this. 

You approached the familiar closed door, the same one Hendery had trapped you up against that first night, taking a breath before you knocked lightly on the wood. “Hendery, it’s me.”

In less than a second the door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled, very exhausted looking Hendery. His russett hair stuck up in all directions as if he had been running his hands through it every five seconds. Umber eyes, though usually wide, looked an unhealthy amount of ‘awake’ and more than stressed. You reached forward, ready to brush the unease from his creased brows, but he caught your wrist in his hand and pulled you flush against his bare chest. “You’re a little late, princess.”

Before you could get a word in edgewise, he bent down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. All your prior exasperation melted away, soon to be replaced by the taste of bitter coffee and anxious desperation on his lips. And had he not slung one arm around your waist, you would have collapsed, knees having given out completely from under you. Not even a moment later, his lips began to move, dancing against yours, begging for a response. 

So you did. Your eyes slid closed, drowning in the coiling of heat only /he/ could spark in the pit of your stomach. Running your fingers through his silky hair, you pulled him closer, swallowing all his pent up stress as your mouth moved in sync with his. You didn’t even realize he had let go of your wrist until both arms materialized around your hips, breaking away only momentarily to whisper a hoarse “jump.” 

You imagined there was a quite loud ‘thump’ when your back hit the door and effectively slamming it closed. “Fuck, Hendery. That-” the murmured words stopped dead in your throat when he rocked his hips up into yours, tugging a muted whimper from your mouth. A breathy moan sounded in the back of his throat and he did it again, a stupid smile appearing on his lips when you eyes rolled back into your head. 

Then his lips began their descent down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and dark bruises in their wake. Stifled sounds of pleasure grew harder to repress as you busied yourself with the smooth, ivory skin of his neck. He placed one last kiss under the curve of your jaw before carrying you the few steps to his bed and laying you back in the familiar plush embrace of his comforter. 

Once he had propped himself over you on both hands and knees, he stopped, cocoa-colored eyes finally back to their usual soft brown glow. 

“I-I’m sorry about that, love-” the nickname escaped, almost camouflaged by the rest of his words, but taking you by surprise nonetheless. He continued. “I-I… I’ve been really stressed recently with all the exams coming up and nothing was happening the way I wanted it to and I hadn’t seen you in over a week… You-I, you’re like- I just needed to see you.” As if it hadn’t already been going crazy, the sound of your heartbeat rushing past your ears increased tenfold. That… that wasn’t what people said as just fuck buddies, was it? 

Your breath left your parted lips in harsh pants, gazing up at him curiously through a hooded gaze. This was the first good look at him you’d gotten since the moment you entered the house. His chest heaved with what you hoped wasn’t overexertion and a thin layer of sweat coated his toned torso. Thanks to your prior ministrations, his hair - once as wild as his gaze had been - fell down, nearly shielding his eyes. A light flush covered his cheeks when you said nothing in response and lowered himself to your lips once more, albeit much more gentle this time. 

You met his vigor with enthusiastic passion, letting your arms snake their way around his neck, bringing him down to cover your body with his own. And this time, like many times before, was sweet. He was sweet. He tasted like hope and the wistful promise of many more days to be spent together. You could have fallen into that pit, let yourself be dragged down into the foolishness that came with all the uncertainties of love. 

Love. 

Love. 

The word flashed through your mind and stopped you mid kiss. No. You couldn’t love Hender- You loved Hendery. Nothing else could explain the worry that prickled the forefront of your mind when his dazed call first came through this afternoon. Nothing else made sense with the way a single glance at him smiling at you could send your heart hurtling a hundred times faster than it normally did into the pit of your stomach. Nothing else would ensure the calming warmth his touch sent through your body or the way his kisses and whispered nothings against your bare skin imprinted the silly idea of something more in your mind. 

You loved him.

You loved the man you were fucking recreationally. 

“Y/N,” he pulled an inch away, lips ghosting over your cheek when he sensed your sudden stiffness. Dark eyes searched yours, “What’s wrong-”

“I-I I have to go, Hendery,” the words fell, stuttered and broken through your lovestruck lips. Tearing your hands from around his neck, you placed both hands on his chest. And with both hands on his chest, you shoved him off you. Heart heavier than it had been in years, you rolled out of his grasp and fixed your clothes, bolting towards the door. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I lov- I mean. I’ll see you later.” 

With that, you ran out the door, ‘hanging up’ on him for the second time today.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

let's do a classic Primez ask

thank you lol Prime Time is.....6 am is when im posting this, christ lol what else is new around here........Good Morning in advance lol and [rise and shine sailors it be monday]

2: Favorite book?

i don’t have one lol

3: Favorite fictional character?

i also don’t Properly have like, all-time ultimate Faves in these kind of categories either, but there’s still standouts at least lol......obviously lately it might show that i’m enjoying winston billions a lot, and natch that’s just One of the many wrol roles i’ve been glad to discover. natch winston, jared, and jeremy are fave raves amonth them

5: What’s your favorite fictional ship? (Canon or otherwise)

this is the same as the [fave fictional characters] thing in that like, sometimes i’ll Consume something where i don’t have any, and generally i’m out here multishipping and not like live or die by one Specific Pairing, if i like a character i’ll also probably like Many of their dynamic/s with various other characters, unless the options are That limited.......tying this in to the fave fictional character thing, re: winston, naturally tayston and benston, aka the fruits of us all combining our Genius, are top tier and here’s riawin where we don’t know for sure where it’s going but we’re getting some great Dynamic(tm) stuff anyways.....and natch re: jared i Enjoy Kleinsen (as something to make up ideas about that are outside canon and also as a perspective thru which to analyze canon) and re: jeremy.....stagedorks is beautiful, wild to have canon just give you some content that’s already as good as that

7: List 3 negative traits you have 

well i can be fairly anxious about certain things, which is mostly negative for me lol.........a more negative 2-way street is that i’m just generally in defensive mode around people lol, often i’m like, just trying to avoid Attention entirely and/or like uh oh attention, gotta try to just avoid taking damage from it lol.......on a gradual journey to just being default More Unpleasant / less accommodating lmao......not that i can’t be sometimes, or that i can’t be Genuinely Friendly with randos coz i like their vibe and actually Like socializing lol.........and then re: the challenges of socializing, it seems like maybe when i’m in an interaction i get caught up in [uh oh how do i Respond a) at all b) in a way that’s Good(tm)] and it maybe makes me less attentive to the other person / a worse Listener smh

11: How do you decide when it’s time to cut someone out of your life for good?

idk luckily it’s not something i’ve had to do left and right lol.......but ime it’s Also not exactly like. usually a “ah Now Is The Time to have zero relationship with this person” and most often it’s like [gradual distancing period that is mostly passive] and/or just choosing Not to reinitiate any sort of relationship........though re: more active approaches lol it’s more like. time to try to tune into my [does this feel like something indefinitely sustainable / something you actually Want to have continue in any way] gauge or whatevs. and then still it’s like, sometimes easier if moments happen to come along that provide an [opt out?] choice presented to you kinda lol.........if it’s someone You don’t want to be involved with really but they don’t feel the same and it’s “on you” to decide to peace out at some point it’s more difficult coz such [do you want to opt out]-distilled Moments probably don’t seem to manifest but i think that’s a useful thing to be aware of in itself........i.e. that there’s not always going to be a Narrative-Friendly “point of no return” / clear Line Being Crossed and even if it Doesn’t feel like “i can’t / don’t want to deal with this for Literally one more day” that doesn’t mean you should totally stick it out / don’t have enough reason to decide that you are Done at this particular moment even if you haven’t been Done prior or think you plausibly hold off on it. don’t need to have some kind of story where you think if you Explained it to anyone or everyone it’d universally be understood and everything would applaud like “Yes, the Right Decision” lmao like. not their business....

13: What are your favorite lyrics currently?

well with our groupchat in the replies to that Eternally Crying Over The Bar Song post..........just enjoy the “stay here for a while / cuz it’s nice / cuz it’s holy” part of the refrain, a fun part of the music, and that classic iconis like, lyrics being in a sort of character Voice and yet getting the idea / feelings across effectively even when the words are sort of general or simple.......”shooting from the heart / but we’re all a lousy shot” is great lol and also “say you will always be here” ending with “for one more” is like, there’s another Broader Idea / Sentiment expressed so effectively :’|

17: If you could make a wish, what would you wish for if you knew it would come true?

i can’t do any fun answers lmao it’d just be like [political commentary] but that’s warranted lbr

19: How do you handle heartbreak? Is it something that’s easy for you to get over, or something you struggle with?

lmao i think it is like By Definition not easy for anyone to get over / Not struggle with.........can’t say i’ve had Romantic Misadventures exactly but uh yeah it feels bad to feel bad but i like......wait it out???? idk lmao you can’t really just timeskip past.....Heartbreak Sucks For Everyone Cuz That’s Kind Of The Whole Thing

23: What do you want your future to be like?

pandemic-less, fascism-less........i can’t say i’ve ever been someone like “yea i Know what i want to do and have this whole plan set out how i’m gonna do it lol” i remember when i was like 4 or 5 or whatever being asked What Do You Want To Do When You Grow Up and i was like “shit idk.......i like dinosaurs so i guess paleontologist??” and it was as much a mystery going forward.........always and still mostly playing things by ear with a few vague “if / then” type ideas......aren’t we all though ig

29: Do you think zodiac signs can influence someone’s personality to an extent?

what do i know but i Don’t like or respect the recent years trend ppl being way into it like this isn’t [being really serious about hogwarts houses] or Earnest Myer Briggs Types energy that everyone’s bringing to it......like what are you getting out of trying to be this Prescriptive based on when ppl’s parents got into it. meanwhile i’ve been on the edge of my seat since someone tweeted about “when will we get the first astrology discrimination lawsuit” re: a story about ppl wanting a housemate with a certain sign for compatibility reasons. and like again if it Is like “yes there are time-of-year Personality Types for Objective Real” like. okay, still, what is this Approach that ppl have....doing for anyone.....

31: What does ‘self care’ look like for you?

not very fancy lol i’ll be like “damn i think i haven’t eaten today” and then do it......or be like hey here i’m gonna Do A Stretch or some shit. walk around. step outside if it’s nice. both true that Self Care has inherent limitations re: like we can’t just cancel out all the detriments to our wellbeing via Personal Choices and yet also we can’t Not look out for ourselves how we can......i’ll watch something that i Enjoy. or just knock out if it’s like “christ i need a mood reset” or i’m trying to timeskip through a headache. pet a cat. i like to try to be Appreciative of everyday ordinary shit......also messing around Making Stuff whether drawings or otherwise can be a good helpful use of time, i like talking to people who i like talking to, and other stunning stuff like that lol

37: Have you ever been surprised by someone staying in your life?

not really lol coz again with how i’m pretty slow to realize that someone is like, nonzero actively interested in interacting with me on a regular basis, and then once someone’s In My Life there’s no particular point where i go “whoa....You’re still here??”......ig sometimes there’s like, Friendly Acquaintances where it’d be Unsurprising if they just sort of dropped fully out of the orbit but they do not

41: How do you show you care?

hmm i sure like to do ppl favors / give them gifts / help them out w/ whatever, hang out / generally be Around them where like, doing [parallel tasks] works i.e. maybe we’re doing different things but in the same room.....just like to Talk and all and listen to ppl and Learn Things About Them, try to pick up stuff re: ways that ppl express like “hey to me it conveys Being Cared About when ppl do ___”........food/cooking is a love language......that thing where shit you’d be way too anxious to do on your own For Yourself is like, oh i’m absolutely gonna do it on behalf of someone i care about.......all this stuff is more like, Possible in person lmao rip. i Care you guys

43: Which of the seven deadly sins do you feel represents you the most?

who is your hellsona and what is their origin story (how they got condemned to hell).........if i’m irritable / argumentative am i wrathful? you could presumably someone saying yep it is inherently the one deadly sin of lust if you’re queer.......at any given time i’m passed out and dreaming about “fuck capitalism and the protestant work ethic” and that’s sloth i guess. and okay i went “who named an animal after a The Deadly Sin as if it’s like ‘wow fuck this animal for choosing not to zoom around as though they could and i apparently think that they should’ tf” and in looking it up i immediately learned the Sloth Fact that apparently their shits are insane and also the most dangerous thing they do?? like they poop only maybe once a week and All At Once so that a single dump might knock off a third of their total weight........and it’s pretty much the only time they leave the upper branches of trees, in that they crawl down to hold on to the trunk and take this monster shit and naturally they’re not great on the ground so Pooping is like the leading cause of death for sloths in the wild. and i think they ought to be named after that. 

47: What are you passionate about?

oh man [i am passionate a lot.mp3] lol.........always having a variety of Interestes which i like to talk about / potentially make things about.......decent amount of subjects i like to learn things about even if  i’m bad at like, actually learning things generally lmao, what’s Not losing focus on shit.......idk it’s not that hard for me to like go off about Whatever, got these jack of all trades interests / areas of Some knowledge, i’m opinionated and probably have something (extensive) to say about anything as just part of my charm lol, and just in general i can get Enthused / worked up about things..........also passionate about various [niche gay shit] things eternally. whoms among us isn’t

[gukyi]

a heart full of love | myg

summary: people say that actors are the most dramatic people in the world but those people haven't met a certain min yoongi.

{enemies to lovers!au, high school!au, actor!au}

pairing: yoongi x female reader word count: 10k genre: fluff, angst so light a feather weighs more warnings: bad references to les miserables and memes, in that order. yoongi being outrageous. lots of caps lock. unrealistic portrayals of the arts. musical directors that are way too chill to be high school teachers. possible megaphone misuse.  a/n: how long have i put off this fic? too long, honestly. but here it is, finally!! i wrote the majority of this between the hours of 10pm and 5am. forgive my mistakes. happy birthday to one of my closest irl friends, who literally requested i write this in april. i’m so sorry. it’s finally here. also happy birthday, but i said this already.

If you lived in some Black Mirror-esque alternate universe where every single human being lived their life and interacted with others as though they were merely profiles on a social media website, the first thing you would do is use the Block feature in your everyday life. And you would use it on none other than Min Yoongi.

It’s a massive shame that there’s no real life unfollow, blocked, reported feature because Min Yoongi, Unnecessary Nuisance Extraordinaire, is quite deserving of all three. Especially considering there is no occurrence in your life more unfortunate than the fact that Min Yoongi just had to waltz into the drama club interest meeting in freshman year, sit his ass down at one of the desks, and sign his name in ugly penmanship under the words Interested in Stage Crew? written in Comic Sans.

You didn’t know it yet, no, not when you barely knew his name and could barely see him under the massive black hoodie he was wearing, but Min Yoongi wrote his name down under the Stage Crew interest line and you wrote yours down under Acting interest line and it was like you signed off your soul. Like you said “I do” to the personification of the word irritation, committed yourself to a thorn in your side for the next four years. A thorn that seems to have a particular penchant for the dramatic arts. It’s a shame that Min Yoongi isn’t interested in acting, but then again, you think that if you had to stand on a stage next to him, there’s no telling what could happen.

🅱️rama 🅱️lub 🅱️officers

you (12:46PM): are you guys good for the meeting this afternoon? you (12:46PM): in the choir room

namjoon (12:48PM): I still don’t have dues from half of the drama club

you (12:50PM): threaten them

namjoon (12:51PM): With what?

you (12:52PM): idk you (12:52PM): the wrath of kim namjoon ig

seokjin (12:54PM): i wouldn’t exactly call the wrath of kim namjoon particularly threatening

you (12:55PM): no one asked u seokjin you (12:55PM): you’re in love with him

seokjin (1:01PM): love is a great and wonderful thing y/n

min (1:03PM): yeah y/n ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you (1:05PM): do not start with me min

min (1:05PM): i just want to love you y/n

you (1:06PM): fuck off you (1:07PM): i didn’t ask

namjoon: (1:07PM): Can you not make declarations of love in the drama officers group chat?

you (1:08PM): i am not the one making the love declarations here

min (1:09PM): <3

you (1:10PM): i hate you

seokjin (1:34PM): I will forever be shocked that Park and Bae let the two of you be officers in the same club

When the bell rings you dash out of your last class of the day, making a beeline for the choir room so you can get there before the rush of the other drama students. It’s very unprofessional for the President of the drama club to be late to her own meeting. You quickly weave your way through the hordes of other students and arrive at your destination, earlier that mostly everyone else.

Mostly.

Min Yoongi is sitting at the shitty piano right by the door, the one that’s always out of tune no matter what your poor choir director does to try and fix it, playing a distant melody of a tune you vaguely know but cannot name. It would probably be nice if it weren’t for the fact that the piano itself sounds terrible and the fact that it is Min Yoongi who is pressing those keys.

He seems to perk up when he notices you’re here, just because he thrives off of your displeasure as any guy as dramatic and obnoxious as he is would. He begins to play the melody more forcefully, passionate and strong, like he’s trying to tell you something. The only thing is that you already know what he’s going to say.

“It’s called Liebestraume,” Yoongi says aloud as he continues to play, knowing that your eyes are trained on him.

“And?” You prompt.

“It means love dream,” he begins to explain, making you roll your eyes as you start heading over to the chalkboard obscured from your vision at the present moment. Though beautiful, you don’t want to hear any more of Min Yoongi playing it on that poor, mildly broken piano. It sounds off and with his fingers on the keys it makes you feel even more aggravated than you already are when you’re in his presence. Which, during drama season, is always.

As you round the corner in this L-shape of a choir room, you are greeted with the sight of a perfectly Not Blank chalkboard. In fact, there’s this horrific scrawl in all capital letters on it. It reads:

Y/N,

WILL YOU GO OUT ON A DATE WITH ME? CHECK ☐ YES ☐ NO

— MIN YOONGI

You turn around to glare at a wonderfully guilty-looking Min Yoongi, who’s smiling proudly at the monstrosity he’s written on the board. He’s always fucking like this, and it’s ridiculous and out-of-hand but you are powerless to stop it. The worst part is that he’s written your name and his so there’s no confusion whatsoever as to who this message is addressed to and who it’s from. Such blatant call-outage makes your cheeks heat up, both in mortification and fury.

“Are you serious, Min?” You ask, speechless. The rest of the drama club trickles in, including your fellow officers, Seokjin and Namjoon, and each person gets a nice good look at the chalkboard as they sit down in the choir chairs. By the time the room is half-filled, most people are looking at you, waiting for your response. You swear you can see Taehyung over by the director’s desk with his phone out. He’s definitely recording this whole thing to put on his Snapchat, because he’s one of those people that has ten minute Snapchat stories like the heathen he is.

“When am I not, Y/N?” Yoongi asks in response, cruising on up to where Namjoon and Seokjin stand, waiting for the meeting to begin. He takes his sweet time, relishing in the attention he’s receiving and the press he’s focusing on you. Your misery seems to fuel him.

Pretty soon all of the officers are standing up at the front of the room, ready to start the meeting and cover all of the bases before sending everyone home for the afternoon. Well, all of them besides you. You’re still staring, flabbergasted, at the message written on the chalkboard.

“Well?” Seokjin prompts, looking like he’s about to keel over with laughter. Him and Namjoon seem to be enjoying themselves quite a lot up there. “Aren’t you going to respond?”

The ever-growing drama club crowd laughs, looking at you expectantly. Half of them probably think you’re going to check YES and the world will end because it will be the first time you have ever accepted a date request from Min Yoongi, and the other half probably think you’re going to brutally circle NO before moving on with the meeting entirely. Taehyung’s filming you no matter what happens.

You reach down for the eraser on the ledge at the bottom of the chalkboard, and wipe the whole damn message away, word by word, line by line, until all that’s left is:

☐ NO

and that’s that. Not the best way to turn him down—you’ve definitely done better—but good enough for now and certainly good enough for Taehyung, who is absolutely laughing his entire head off in that back corner. When you turn back to the front of the room where the rest of the drama club officers await you, Yoongi’s pouting, puppy dog eyes on full display, pretending to be heartbroken at your rejection.

“Oh, stuff it, Min,” you chide, marching over to stand in between Seokjin and Yoongi as you clap your hands to begin the meeting.

It goes fairly well. Yoongi gives his instructions to his neck of the woods: the stage crew kids gathered in the top right corner of the seats, all of whom are on their phones and not paying attention to anything that the rest of the officers are saying. Quite frankly, you’re not even sure if they’re listening to Yoongi either. He’s their only representation in the republic known as the Drama Club Officers and they’re barely giving him even a margin of their attention. Namjoon manages to get dues from a couple more people. Seokjin is loud and reckless and everybody loves him, as per usual. You manage the whole thing, switching slides and relaying information from the musical directors.

When the meeting is over, Taehyung hangs back with the officers, partly because he’s your best friend and partly because he’s also your ride. Namjoon records the names of all of the students who gave him money and Seokjin waits around because they always leave school together.

Yoongi grabs his stuff and pulls on his black beanie, letting the thick wool cover his platinum bangs, looking longingly at the ☐ NO still left on the chalkboard. He stuffs his headphones into his ears and begins to head out, but not before shouting, “Don’t forget about me, Y/N!”

You wouldn’t be able to even if you tried.

Seokjin and Namjoon head out soon after, leaving you and Taehyung alone in the choir room as you pull on your jackets and adjust your backpacks. Taehyung’s keys jingle on the lanyard he’s got wrapped around his hand.

“I’d say that was a pretty successful meeting, wouldn’t you?” He asks on the way out, headed towards the exit that leads to the parking lot where his busted old car waits.

“Other than the Yoongi fiasco in the beginning, yeah, I think it went alright,” you say, only the slightest bit (more like a medium amount) bitter. Min Yoongi always has to be so… Yoongi.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I know you hate his guts, Y/N, but seriously. You’re playing Eponine in Les Miserables and yet when a love confession comes knocking on your door, you turn the lights off.”

“He doesn’t really mean it,” you insist like it’s obvious, because it is. No way in hell does Yoongi actually want to go out with you. He exists to torture you, nothing more, nothing less.

Your best friend sighs. His car beeps as he unlocks it. Some days you wonder what your life would be like if you had never met Min Yoongi, but then you remember that not even the kindest goddess could have prevented the firestorm known as your relationship.

You’re leaning against the stage, rehearsing your lines in your head when you hear the heavy stage door opening then slamming shut, heavy footsteps ringing out throughout the theater.

There’s just enough time to spot Taehyung marching in, proud as ever, jumping from the stage ledge to the carpeted pit below, and shouting, “Guess who just failed his calc test!”

Nobody applauds. In fact, nobody seems to take any note of him besides you and the director, who is shaking his head as he writes something down on his clipboard. But you have to take notice of him because he’s your best friend.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” you chide as he strides up to you. You don’t need to move your eyes from your script to know that he’s smiling. He reaches into his bag to show you the proof—a fucking satchel that cost him an arm and a leg at Urban Outfitters because he is a piece of shameless hipster trash and extremely proud of it—pulling out a crumpled looking thing stapled together in the top left corner. On the front, right next to where Taehyung’s scribbled his name (it looks like a goose has written it), a bright red 36/100.

“Look at her, Y/N,” Taehyung says, shoving the thing in your face. You fumble with it, trying to balance it between your fingers along with your thick (with two C’s) script. You leaf through it. There’s one page where Taehyung just drew a game of hangman. He didn’t even try to write anything down. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“What were you trying to spell out?” You ask, showing him the hangman page.

“I suck at calc.”

“You weren’t even gonna like, beg for an A?”

Taehyung looks only a little affronted. “I may be shameless but I’m not that shameless. At least I have the dignity to know when even I can’t schmooze my way to a good grade like Cher from Clueless. I just don’t have that kind of skill, Y/N! Or a rotating closet! My life is awful.”

“You know what, I think the role of Marius will be a good reality check for you. It’ll teach you to be humble. And to cherish what you already have. And to sing your feelings away.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I do that regularly.” He’s not wrong. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve found him singing a Billboard Top 50 song as a form of self-expression to achieve some sort of fake deep catharsis. He once broke out into a ballad version of Justin Bieber’s Never Say Never after missing a question while you were playing Kahoot in chemistry two years ago.

“So what do you have in calc now?”

“A 69.7%,” Taehyung declares like it’s an achievement.

“You scammed your way to a C? How?” You ask in shock. You can’t believe that Taehyung somehow managed to score enough points for him to not be failing that class. You’ve seen his test scores. His grades. He has used his un-handed-in calculus homework as a tissue before.

“My charm,” Taehyung boasts, making you cough up a laugh. At your skepticism, he adds, “and this extra credit review game we did.”

“You’re unbearable,” you tell him in disbelief, your voice still fond. You know that Taehyung doesn’t really want much to do with math, not when he happens to have a penchant for the arts. He’s just selectively studious.

Taehyung smiles to himself as he pulls out his own script, the edges of the folder bent and wrinkled and torn from being stuffed into and roughly pulled out of his satchel. “Bet my team members thought that too. Can’t say they were pleased with being paired up with me.”

“Who were you with?”

“Joy, Hana, and a certain guy whose name rhymes with Sin Boongi.”

“Very funny,” you deadpan.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure who that is either.”

His sarcasm makes you roll your eyes. It’s not so much that you can’t stand the mention of Yoongi’s name as it is you can’t stand him existing, specifically near where you exist. If living on Mars were possible and feasible and if you were as wealthy and scandalous as Elon Musk, then you would either send Min Yoongi on the first ship to the red planet or jump on yourself.

Bitterly, you realize that even if a whole fucking planet separated the two of you, he’d still probably find some way to bother you.

“I mean, Joy and Hana probably greatly dislike me for mooching off of their genuine hard work but I know for a fact that I am not the primary target of Yoongi’s attention,” Taehyung tells you pointedly, crossing his arms in front of you as he gazes at you. You roll your eyes, roughly handing back his crumpled test and going back to your lines. You don’t need a reminder as to how much of a pain in every muscle in your body Yoongi is.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not like I chose for this to happen.”

“Ah, yes, it’s not your fault that Min Yoongi has been trying to confess his undying love for you since freshman year and you’ve done nothing but brutally reject him each time.”

This is the part in the story where you’re supposed to say that it wasn’t always like this. You’re supposed to reminisce about some time where you and Yoongi were childhood friends, neighbors, lovers who kissed each other on the kindergarten playground. A montage of your past together is supposed to play and make everyone in the audience watching the movie coo at how close the two of you used to be. And you’re supposed to be narrating the story of your life before the music takes a dark turn and gets all dramatic and you reveal this friendship-crushing event that destroyed your relationship and is meant to make the audience feel sympathetic towards you because you’ve painted yourself as the poor, helpless victim while Yoongi is the evil and malicious person out for your blood.

The truth is is that Yoongi isn’t out for your blood. He’s just out for your mild embarrassment, the kind that makes blood rush to your cheeks and a little frown to etch itself onto your face but the same kind that makes you realize that there could be worse things he does to you. That if this is the price to pay, you’ll take it.

The truth is is that it was always sort of like this.

“Well, how else am I supposed to reply? It’s not like Yoongi means anything by it,” you huff out.

“Gossiping about me, are we now, Y/N?”

You whip your head around to find—speak of the Devil and he shall appear—Yoongi marching across stage with a bucket of nails in his hand for the set construction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was there for him to toss at you. He’s wearing paint-stained clothing, black covered in red and green and brown and white, a beanie sitting atop his bleach blonde hair. He looks so… infuriatingly good.

“Only about you,” you say sharply. Min Yoongi is your one and only nemesis in the entire drama club. Not even that kid Jungkook, who, despite his sheer size, is about as clumsy as a butterfly with a broken wing. He has, multiple times, run into you because he is too busy looking in the opposite direction when in motion. You don’t really blame him, though. He’s the only one who seems to know anything about filming things, which means that the directors put him in charge of anything to do with a camera. Which is a lot.

“I’m honored,” Yoongi tells you, one hand over his heart. He places the bucket down by the wooden planks on stage, a drill already waiting on top of them. “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

“Min Yoongi, what are you planning now!” You shout, but he’s already beginning to drill, the noise of the drill bit pressing into the wood overwhelming your cries.

They’re the only words he speaks to you for the entire afternoon, leaving you fuming in place once more. Taehyung does absolutely nothing to help besides suggesting that you should put one of the frogs that the freshman biology kids have to dissect into his backpack, a plan that would perhaps work if it weren’t for the fact that it is equal parts hilarious and disgusting. Go big or go home, and you would rather sleep.

The only difference between before and now is that then Yoongi was a scrawny kid who wore all black and played basketball in the gymnasium alone and now he is, apparently, none of those things. Somewhere along the line Yoongi turned from a freshman into a senior and you don’t really know how you feel about it because the boy you are decidedly mortal enemies with is not supposed to look that good. That’s the problem here.

Of course, you could never voice this concern to anybody. Not even Taehyung, because Lord knows you would never hear the end of it from him. Taehyung’s wonderful, but he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, and when Taehyung finds out something the entire drama department will soon follow.

“People’s Song, folks!” One of the directors calls. “Everyone into the choir room!”

On your way over there, you lock eyes with Min Yoongi. He grins.

Ugh.

“Seokjin, are you even listening to me?” The choir director asks with a pointed look on his face, hands on his hips. Seokjin is too busy eating one of those snack packs of Nutella and breadsticks, turning around like a deer caught in the headlights, cheeks puffy and lips chocolate-y. Where did that come from? Is he even allowed to be eating in here?

“Vaguely,” he responds, making the director roll his eyes. “Can’t hear you over the sound of me quenching my hunger.”

All of the students in the room laugh over the sound of Seokjin’s teeth crunching down onto the snack.

Namjoon, with a tie around his forehead for some unknown reason (you know for a fact that the kids in charge of costumes did not put him up to this), strolls up to his boyfriend, disregarding the seating arrangement entirely to snatch a breadstick from the container. Seokjin takes notice of the accessory tied around his head and tugs on it slightly, making everyone close their eyes to shield them gross display of public affection.

The director sighs, paging back a bit in the score before hitting the pitch on his piano. “We’re starting at the top.”

He begins to play, the thick sound of the piano echoing throughout the room from the dinky speakers behind his desk. Seokjin clears his throat, coughing a little before starting.

“One day more,” he sings. “Another day, another destiny…”

Namjoon rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as he sings, peering down at his lines every now and then just to see when his entrance is coming up.

“One day more,” Seokjin ends his phrase and the director continues to play, waiting for Taehyung to enter.

The only thing is that Taehyung’s been absent from school for the past two days after coming down with strep throat. You have no idea where he contracted that from, especially considering you’ve gotten strep every year since you were eleven.

“Marius?” The director stops on a clunky note. “Where is he?”

“He’s sick,” you inform him. “Strep.”

“Fine,” the director sighs, rubbing his temples. He definitely doesn’t get paid enough. “Anyone willing to fill in? You don’t have to be any good, you just need to sing.”

No one seems to be willing to take Taehyung’s part. Not that you blame them, because Marius has a fairly decent range and everyone in high school cares too much about their reputation to be willing to sacrifice their own pride for the greater good.

Well, everyone except one person.

“I will,” Yoongi volunteers from out of nowhere. You furrow your brows in disbelief as you watch him stroll over to the front of the choir room. Where the hell did he come from? Has he been here the whole time? Yoongi has almost no business being in the choir room during a practice for one of the songs when he is 1) not a choir student and 2) in stage crew. It’s like he just manifested from the dust particles floating around.

“Alright, fine,” the choir director says gruffly. “Need a script?”

“No, it’s alright,” Yoongi says, cruising over and taking the seat right next to your own. He smiles casually at you, like it’s no big deal that he just volunteered to take Taehyung’s part for this one particular song.

“What the hell are you doing,” you mutter to him.

“Using my resources,” he hisses back.

“Okay, we’re starting from the beginning again. Seokjin?”

Seokjin looks up at the call of his name with half of a baby carrot sticking out of his mouth. There’s a Ziploc bag full of them sitting on Namjoon’s lap. He chews the offending vegetable like a rabbit, quickly and furiously, before swallowing down what’s left and clearing his throat once more.

He gets through his verse with relative ease and for a brief second you think this might actually just be a normal fucking rehearsal when—

“I did not live until today,” Yoongi sings in his rough voice, gravelly yet smooth all at once. It shocks you a little bit, how decent of a singer he is. He really does have a calling for the dramatics. “How can I live when we are parted?” You can feel his gaze on your figure, even if he is glancing back and forth at the lyrics he’s pulled up on his phone. He’s waiting to see how you’ll react.

“One day more,” Seokjin continues, but you can see the way his eyes are trained on the two of you. He’s trying to be subtle about it.

“Tomorrow you’ll be worlds away, and yet with you, my world has started,” Yoongi continues, even as Eunbi—Cosette—joins in from across the room. She doesn’t seem to care that Taehyung’s not here and that Yoongi’s taken his place. You don’t really blame her—she thinks that Taehyung is the baboon of the music department and quite frankly, her thoughts are not at all misled.

“One day more, all on my own,” you begin to sing softly, barely audible over the sound of the piano keys clunking throughout the room. You don’t really know if you have the guts to look up at Yoongi.

“Will we ever meet again?” He sings, except his words aren’t directed at Cosette.

“One more day with him not caring,” the lyrics come naturally to you but the feeling of everyone watching you will always be foreign, even if you were born to be a performer. Born to be on stage.

This is different than being on stage.

“I was born to be with you,” Yoongi declares more than he sings, reaching his arm out towards you. Slowly, you begin to look up at Yoongi, who looks just about as expressive as Taehyung is whenever he serenades the goldfish in his room. He’s got his arms outstretched towards you and is singing like his life depends on it, kind of because you have the slightest feeling that you’re about to end it when you’re done with this song.

“What a life I might have known,” you sing through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at Yoongi. He is, to put it simply, wholly undeterred. This is supposed to be a romantic and wistful and hopeful tune and because of him, the entire damn song has gotten flipped—turned upside down. Marius isn’t even the one in love with Eponine. That’s the whole reason her character exists. Because he doesn’t love her.

Not that you’re implying that Yoongi feels any sort of romantic affection towards you. Impossible. There are plenty of reasons that Yoongi does shit like this but you doubt any of them are “because he loves you.”

“And I swear I will be true,” Yoongi promises, belts out with more emotion than you think you’ve ever seen him. This feels like it’s about to turn into a High School Musical scene from how dramatic Yoongi’s being.

“But he never saw me there.” It’s turned into a staring contest between you and him. Yoongi’s grinning wildly as he continues, making the tense press of your lips grow even tighter.

“One more day before the storm,” Namjoon jumps in, and it seems that he’s following Yoongi’s preferred plan of attack which is to sing like it is the last time he will ever sing. He jumps up like he’s literally part of the June Revolution, his fists curled in a power stance.

Yoongi joins in, leaping to his feet. Since when is Namjoon the instigator? “Do I follow where she goes?”

“At the barricades of freedom,” Namjoon follows, raising his arm in solidarity to whatever cause he stands for. Seokjin stands up as well, adjusting the tie around his boyfriend’s forehead as he does.

“Shall I join my brothers there?”

“When our ranks begin to form?”

“Do I stay, and do I dare?”

“Will you take your place with me?”

There comes a point where suddenly you are the only one who is still sitting in your chair, your feet rooted firmly to the ground in protest. Everyone around you is beginning to belt out the lyrics, even if it isn’t their part. You hate drama kids. Oh goodness, you hate them.

You think you might actually make it through this whole rehearsal without dying of embarrassment, but then Yoongi reaches down where he stands next to you and pulls you to your feet, making you gasp slightly at the tug. He’s gotten quite strong. It must be all of the carrying he does during stage crew.

“The time is now, the day is here!” Everyone shouts rather than sings. Yoongi looks right into your eyes as he says the lyrics and you wonder if he can see the disdain lacing your irises. If this is his attempt at another confession, it’s exceedingly poor.

“One day more!” Seokjin practically yodels before everyone dissolves into a fit of laughter. Even the choir director has a smile on his face.

“Won’t you love me, Y/N?” Yoongi asks you, closing his eyes dramatically as he opens his arms.

You look at him in disbelief. You hope he can’t see the way the fondness bleeds into your expression. “In your dreams, Min.”

It ends there.

you (7:03PM): how dare you

yeontan’s daddy (7:03PM): what did i do

you (7:04PM): be sick

yeontan’s daddy (7:04PM): well excuse me for getting strep from a certain someone

you (7:04PM): idk what ur talking about ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

yeontan’s daddy (7:05PM): Okay™ yeontan’s daddy (7:05PM): what happened today yeontan’s daddy (7:05PM): did i miss something

you (7:05PM): yoongi

yeontan’s daddy (7:06PM): omg noooooo i missed it!! yeontan’s daddy (7:06PM): i wonder if jk filmed it

you (7:06PM): im distressed and the only thing you can think about is if jungkook filmed it???????

yeontan’s daddy (7:07PM): are you questioning my priorities

you (7:07PM): i hate you

yeontan’s daddy (7:08PM): just like you hate yoongi

you (7:06PM): you are the worst best friend i have ever had

yeontan’s daddy (7:08PM): what did he do this time

you (7:09PM): he SANG TO ME you (7:09PM): SANG!! WITH HIS VOICE !!! you (7:09PM): HIS LIPS MOVED AND MADE NOISE

yeontan’s daddy (7:10PM): that is typically how people sing

you (7:10PM): HE SANG !!! IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED !!!!! I DON’T THINK SO !!!!!

yeontan’s daddy (7:10PM): i didn’t know yoongi sang

you (7:10PM): HE DOESN’T

yeontan’s daddy (7:10PM): you seem very emotional about this

you (7:10PM): IM ANGRY

yeontan’s daddy (7:11PM): is he at least a decent singer

you (7:11PM): YES

yeontan’s daddy (7:11PM): wow you’re mad

you (7:11PM): IM RAGING!!!!!

yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): what did he sing? imo he definitely should have serenaded you with take on me

you (7:12PM): HE SANG YOUR FUCKING PART

yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): mine????

you (7:12PM): BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T HERE TODAY

yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): I DON’T HAVE A VOICE yeontan’s daddy (7:12PM): MY DOCTOR SAID IM CONTAGIOUS

you (7:13PM): IM MAD AT YOU

yeontan’s daddy (7:13PM): marius isn’t even in love with eponine??? it’s the other way around???

you (7:13PM): I KNOW

yeontan’s daddy (7:14PM): what were you even singing

you (7:14PM): ONE DAY MORE you (7:14PM): AND HE SANG ALL OF HIS LINES you (7:14PM): WHILE LOOKING AT ME you (7:14PM): AND IM ANGRY ABOUT IT

yeontan’s daddy (7:16PM): im going to be extremely disappointed if no one filmed this

you (7:16PM): EVERYONE JOINED IN you (7:16PM): HE GOT UP TO HIS FEET AND SUDDENLY IT WAS LIKE SOME HSM BULLSHIT you (7:16PM): I HATE THIS

yeontan’s daddy (7:19PM): i just double checked my lines for one day more and that’s like? very romantic? a 10/10 even if the delivery was a bit off

you (7:19PM): ARE YOU TAKING HIS SIDE!!!

yeontan’s daddy (7:19PM): is your caps lock button just… perpetually on

you (7:19PM): YES

yeontan’s daddy (7:19PM): you can’t possibly be this mad about being serenaded

you (7:20PM): IM DISTRESSED

yeontan’s daddy (7:20PM): is this because you literally have no idea how to navigate your feelings for yoongi

you (7:20PM): my only feelings for yoongi are disdain and general disgust

yeontan’s daddy (7:20PM): i really do not think that is true

you (7:20PM): what else could it be

yeontan’s daddy (7:23PM): hmmm yeontan’s daddy (7:23PM): i wonder

you (7:24PM): what the hell are you trying to say you (7:25PM): i know you fucking got this text you (7:26PM): do not leave me on read!!! you (7:34PM): taehyung!!!! how dare you!!!!! you (7:40PM): im calling the police !!!!! you (8:45PM): taehyung!!!!!!

It pains you to say so, but the set looks fantastic. As much as your petty grudges and general pride hate to admit it, Yoongi and his gang of gangly, uncoordinated, My Chemical Romance-listening stage crew students do a wonderful job each year, and this musical is no exception. On stage right now, in front of the background design of an unspecified French city in the early-to-mid 1800s is a pile of apparent rubbish. But it’s meant to be like that, old tables and chairs and even the damn piano from the choir room all mashed together, glued and nailed and enforced with random wooden planks here and there, meant to look like a real French barricade built haphazardly by students who most definitely aren’t gifted in the arts of engineering and invention. And if Namjoon, king of standing on top of things he shouldn’t be standing on top of, can climb to the top without either toppling over or bringing the whole construction down with him, then it must be sturdy as hell.

“You’re rousing, Namjoon,” the director tells him. The student in question is wobbling as he makes his way up the mountain of random household objects, Seokjin standing a couple of feet away on the sidelines and looking on fondly. “Be more… revolutionary. You’re calling everyone to action, right?”

“Right,” Namjoon nods, but the action makes him lose his footing for a quick second. He regains it nearly as fast, but not before Seokjin’s darting over, instinct telling him to protect the one he loves.

“Okay, so act like it,” the director says.

“Red, the blood of angry men!” Namjoon cries, his voice the slightest bit melodic that it needs to be. Seokjin looks on like a very pleased boyfriend.

“More! Angrier!” The director encourages. He’s been working on getting Namjoon to act more like a revolutionary in France in the early nineteenth century for a while now, most as a result of Namjoon’s insecurity of his ability to act like one. The thing is, you’ve seen Namjoon in debates in your political science class. And you’ve seen the way he protests the way that student minorities are always punished more severely than those that aren’t. And you’ve read his essays about the oppression of women’s rights in modern society. Namjoon’s about as revolutionary as they come, powerful, intelligent, noble—he just doesn’t know it.

“Red, the blood of angry men!” Namjoon says, getting provoked by the director. All of the students on stage are feeling the June Rebellion coursing through their veins, angry yet determined expressions lacing their features as they all engage in various revolutionary activity.

“Good, good!” The director emphasizes.

“Black, the dark of ages past!” continues Namjoon, getting a bit daring and moving to stand taller. He’s nearly at the top of the Mount Everest of rubbish. “Red, a world about to dawn!”

Namjoon takes one giant step, knee knocking into the edge of some table, and reaches the very peak of the trash pile. He balances himself on some sort of ledge and triumphantly raises both of his fists in the air, and with a great big, empowering grin, shouts, “Black, the night that ends at last!”

At this exact moment, ironically enough, all of the lights on stage shut off. The ones in the pit soon follow after a split second, and then the entire auditorium is shrouded in darkness.

“What the fuck,” you can hear Namjoon mutter to himself. He doesn’t dare move for fear of misplacing his foot and crashing to the stage floor.

“Go, Yoongi, go!”

The director doesn’t even have time to shout Hoseok’s name before you hear some random scuffling, rushed and quick and very disorganized. You whip your head around, hoping to spot the offending stage crew manager and the entourage he has somehow gathered to do his dirty work, but then the lights flicker back on, one by one from the back of the auditorium all the way to the stage, where Min Yoongi stands in the center with the megaphone held to his mouth.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. You already know exactly what’s about to happen and you try and hide yourself, sinking into the sweater you’re wearing as you quickly scan for any means of escape or disguise. Maybe you can go hide behind Jungkook, since he’s standing in the middle of the seats with a fat camera in his hand, filming the whole thing. You’re about to make a mad dash before Yoongi can do anything when you hear a crackling sound and—

“Y/N!” Yoongi shouts into the megaphone, his voice mildly unintelligible and cracked around the edges. He doesn’t really need to shout, not when he’s got a megaphone in his hand, but here he is.

“Oh my God,” you say in shock, your head slowly sinking into your hands. “Oh. My God.”

“IF I HAD TO CHOOSE BETWEEN GOING TO HARVARD AND GETTING TO DATE YOU, I WOULD DATE YOU,” Yoongi continues, voice blaring. “SORRY FOR CAUSING ALL OF THIS RUCKUS, DIRECTORS, BUT YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT TO ‘EM. SPECIFICALLY Y/N. BECAUSE I LOVE HER.”

“Christ almighty,” you continue to mutter, knowing fully well that Jungkook is panning back and forth between where you stand in the pit and where Yoongi stands on stage.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH GRANDER I CAN GO WITH THESE, Y/N. I’M RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS. YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED.”

Taehyung snickers somewhere next to you.

“IN ANY CASE, NOW THAT I’VE CAUSED ENOUGH DISRUPTION, PLEASE DON’T FIRE ME AS HEAD OF STAGE CREW. WE FINISHED ALL OF THE SETUP. I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING LEFT TO DO. I HAVE ONE FINAL QUESTION.”

It’s a wonder that Yoongi hasn’t auditioned for any sort of drama show because he’d almost be guaranteed a main role. What with all of this nonsense.

“WILL YOU, Y/N, DO ME THE HONOR OF GOING OUT ON A DATE WITH ME?”

Yoongi then proceeds to hand the megaphone off to Jimin, who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere, who grabs it in his baby-sized hands and rushes towards you with it. He hands it over to you and points to the button you’re meant to press to get the thing to turn on.

“Is this the best you can do, Min?” You ask in response, a challenge that he’s definitely going to accept. You’re digging your own grave here but you don’t have the heart to just straight up reject him, especially not when he’s managed to corral all of the kids in stage crew and the tech kids up in the light and soundbooth to do this for him. This is like some twisted promposal gone completely wrong. “Step your game up and then maybe I’ll consider it.”

With that, you hand the megaphone back to a very disgruntled director and continue on with your day. On stage, Yoongi is handing out high-fives to his entire crew, considering this endeavor a success. Or at least, a not-failure. The directors are trying to wrangle everyone up again to rehearse but consider their efforts fruitless and give a ten minute break.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say no,” Taehyung says in disbelief as he comes up next to you, arms crossed over his chest. “I thought Yoongi was a goner.”

“I’m being benevolent,” you inform him. “Next time he pulls some shit like this and I’m locking him up in the catwalk. When they tear this school down they will find his skeleton, still wearing that goddamn black beanie.”

“Wow, you really thought that out,” Taehyung comments, mildly impressed. Then, because he’s got the attention span of a puppy in a park, “I can’t believe you said you’d consider it. Since when do you consider anything to do with Yoongi?”

“I told you I was being benevolent.”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually warming up to the idea of going out with him. I’ll die of shock.”

“You sure that strep throat didn’t infect your brain?” You tease, ruffling his head.

“I think it might have, considering I just had a dream where you said you might actually consider going on a date with Yoongi.”

“I’m getting his hopes up so that I can crush them with my bare hands,” you say, glancing towards Yoongi. He seems to notice your gaze upon him and sends you some classic finger guns and an incredibly greasy wink, neither of which you return. “Like a grape.”

“I have never seen you crush a grape with your bare hands before.”

“Bring grapes tomorrow.”

“Regardless, you’re not that cruel, Y/N. You told Yoongi to step his game up and he will and if you reject him, I won’t be able to figure out if it’s all in good fun or not. It’s a fine line to cross, Y/N,” Taehyung warns cautiously, giving you a pointed look. You sigh. This isn’t how you pictured this conversation with Taehyung going. You thought he would just applaud you for not being so heartless but now he’s off preaching.

“I don’t know why he keeps doing it,” you think aloud. It’s never-ending, the confessions, over and over again without any sort of break in between. They’ve become so common that it’s a part of your routine at this point, something you just expect to happen despite their general spontaneity. It’s not so much that they’re predictable as it is they’re nice surprises.

Taehyung frowns. “Have you ever told him to stop?” He asks you with his eyebrows raised, a valid point to be making. “You know that if you told him to stop he would, right? He’s not that much of an asshole.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself when the realization hits you. It’s never occurred to you that you’ve never told Yoongi to stop with all of this nonsense, even after year after year of it. You know Yoongi well enough to know that if something he was doing made you feel truly uncomfortable, he wouldn’t continue doing it. He’s a decent guy like that. Taehyung’s right. Yoongi would stop the moment you asked him to.

But why haven’t you? Even after four years of having to hear him proclaim his undying affection for you in elaborate and schemed ways, you’ve never once told him no. You’ve accepted it as reality and continued on with your life.

It’s come so far that now you just expect them.

Like you’re waiting for the next time.

“You’re thinking awful hard about this,” Taehyung notes as he pops a piece of white cheddar popcorn into his mouth.

“I’m distressed,” you tell him.

“Have you ever once considered the idea that you may, in fact, enjoy the attention you receive from him?”

You scoff as a knee-jerk reaction. “Don’t be ridiculous. I hate him.”

Taehyung frowns. “I don’t really think that you do.”

“Can you stop doing that?” You ask bitterly.

Taehyung raises a brow. “Doing what?”

“Being all cryptic and shit. Whenever we talk about me and Yoongi all you do is dodge my questions and be vague. Extremely unhelpful,” you pout. Taehyung’s your best friend—he should be the one telling you the things you don’t know. Every time you ask him to spell something out for you he jumbles up the letters like a child with a magnetic alphabet on his fridge.

“I’m not here to police your feelings for him,” Taehyung tells you.

“My feelings for him?”

“Tell me right now, to my face, that you hate him. If you can, I’ll believe you.”

You turn to him, glare into Taehyung’s deep brown eyes, and open your mouth. The words should come easily to you—after all, you’ve been repeating them to yourself for years now—but your tongue is dry.

You know you can’t say that you hate Yoongi. Because you don’t. You really, really don’t. Maybe he’s loud and obnoxious and spontaneous and outrageous but you don’t hate that about him. He cares deeply and works hard and always makes sure that the stage crew is organized and prepared and treats them with respect and you don’t hate him. You can’t.

“Knew it,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. “You’re awfully soft, did you know that, Y/N? Always have been.”

“I take personal offense to that.”

“You’re such a goner for him, don’t you know that?” Taehyung asks. He motions his head towards Yoongi, who’s laughing on stage with Jimin and Seokjin. They’re tossing Goldfish into each other’s mouth, and one hits Yoongi on the nose before falling to the floor. He’s laughing. They all are, but Yoongi beaming. He outshines everyone on stage even if he isn’t an actor himself. He’s wondrous.

You sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

After your final dress rehearsal, everyone’s deadbeat tired. It’s nearing eleven at night and you think you’ve set a record for how long you can be in your school building in one go. Even Taehyung’s about to fall asleep, and the man downed a venti Starbucks coffee during the last period of the day.

“Good run, folks!” Your director shouts. “You guys will be amazing on Thursday, I know it! Get some much needed rest. No practice tomorrow, so don’t show up here otherwise I’ll have to hear about it from management!”

Everyone groans out their response as they gather their bags, wiping off the makeup on their faces with dried-out wipes and dampened paper towels. Right now, there is no place more enticing to you than your bed back home, sheets crumpled and warm.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” Taehyung shouts as he’s bounding down the steps outside, jumping into the passenger seat of his older brother’s car. Normally he’d be offering to drive you home but his car’s in the shop. The damn thing was on its last legs anyway. It needed some repairs.

“See you!” You wave back, turning to go back inside the auditorium. It’s oddly cold tonight, and you underprepared with just a t-shirt, so you’re trying to conserve as much warmth as you can before your ride comes.

The auditorium’s mostly cleared out, lights dim and hazy. But there in the middle is Yoongi, leaning down to clean up the remnants of the nonsense on stage. He looks so alone, up on stage without anybody else. Nobody seems to have stayed back to help him.

Your ride can wait a couple minutes.

You drop your backpack down in one of the seats next to the aisle as you walk up to him, strides longer to get you there faster.

“Need some help?” You ask.

Your voice catches him off guard, and he looks up with his mouth in the shape of a small ‘o’. He blinks a couple of times, like he’s processing the fact that you’re here, standing in front of him, offering a hand.

“Me? Oh, yeah. That would be nice, thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

You come up on stage and Yoongi directs you to the broom hanging up on the wall so you can dust away anything left on stage—not that there’s very much. In his hands, Yoongi’s got a couple stray pieces of paper and some safety pins that must have fallen off some of the costumes. Jimin will need those.

You fall into this silence as the two of you clean up what’s left. Most of it’s just tidying up, organizing the props on the tables backstage so that everything’s in order for the show in a couple days, but it’s important. Important enough for you and Yoongi to be the only two people left to do it.

This is the kind of thing that’s supposed to be awkward and romantic at the same time. You and Yoongi are the only ones left in this dark auditorium as the moon waits above your head for some miracle to play out. You don’t know what to say to each other but your company is enough of an icebreaker. His mere presence fills up the space, even if he’s one lonely man on a giant stage. Yoongi’s exhausted, the bags under his eyes deep and dark, much like your own. Alongside being part of the drama club as a whole, you’re also officers of it, meaning the two of you take on responsibilities nobody else in the club would dare to. You love this, love being on stage and acting and entertaining others, but days like this are draining.

“You should get some rest,” Yoongi breaks through the layer of tension in the air. You didn’t even realize that it had settled until he waved it away. He walks up to you with a damp rag in his hand from wiping down the set for the last time to clean it of any dust that might have settled.

“You too,” you tell him softly, holding the broom close to your body to give your hands something to do.

“I’m not the one performing on stage in a couple days,” says Yoongi, smiling to himself.

“Just because I’m under the lights and you aren’t doesn’t make you any less important, Min,” you say to him, looking down at your feet because you don’t think you could bear looking into his eyes. It’s dark, everything’s dark, from his hat to his clothes to the stage to the auditorium to his irises. “Without you, we’d have no show.”

“I—I mean I just move stuff off and on stage,” Yoongi admits shyly. Why does he think so little of himself? Doesn’t he know how much he matters?

“You built the damn stage,” you tell him, finally mustering up enough courage to look him in the eye. You signal to the rest of the set, designed and constructed and decorated perfectly, a display of all of his hard work, right in front of him. There’s not a thing out of place. At least, it doesn’t look that way to you. “This was all you.”

“I had a lot of help,” he whispers.

“So did I,” you tell him. “What you do here matters, Min,” you stress, hoping he’ll understand. Hoping he’ll know how much his work means to you. How much he means to you. “You matter.”

It’s then that Yoongi looks up. He’s got his dark pink lips in that little ‘o’ again, but then they shift into a small smile, miniscule. You’d probably hardly be able to see it if you weren’t so close to him. His eyes crinkle up ever so slightly. God, he’s…

“I’ll see you at the show on Thursday, okay?” Yoongi asks, eyes hopeful. He doesn’t need to be hopeful, not when you and him both have to show up no matter what, but he asks it like he isn’t sure. He should be.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. For some reason, you can’t wait to see him again.

“Eponine! Eponine, come on!”

Namjoon’s shouting your name as you rush backstage. It’s the finale for Act One and you barely had time to get yourself situated since your last scene, dirtying up your clothes a bit more and covering your cheeks with brown and black eyeshadow. Time passes by too quickly for this show, strange enough since it’s long as hell.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you whisper shout in response, coming up next to Namjoon. You look across the stage in the hopes that maybe you can catch a glimpse of Yoongi, but you’ve barely seen him at all since you arrived to get into your costume. Maybe a couple of glances, here or there, but other than that he seems to be entirely AWOL.

“One Day More, One Day More!” Namjoon tells you in a hurry and you rush on stage, hidden in the darkness as you stand, waiting for your cue.

The lights on stage come back on. Seokjin stands in the center in his Jean Valjean costume, looks out into the audience, and begins to sing. Soon enough, Taehyung and Eunbi join him on stage, standing a few feet away from him as they sing to each other. The spotlight’s on just them for right now as they share their song, but soon enough you feel the heat of the light on you and join in.

Just for now, any thought of Yoongi evaporates from your mind. You can’t really think of him, not as you stand on stage and sing for your friends, your family, anyone who has come to see this show on this rainy Thursday night. The Act One Finale is always your favorite thing to perform, just because it’s so energetic, inclusive, fun.

Soon the entire cast is on stage, each person singing their part as the pit plays beneath you. It’s your first showing but undoubtedly not your best, even as you accidentally stumble over your words when you spot Yoongi rushing around backstage, just a momentary glimpse of him. He looks awfully busy.

The song comes to a close and the lights turn off to a round of applause from the audience. The curtains close, the whirring of the machine that moves them barely audible over the sound of the cast members shuffling off stage. Intermission’s meant to last about fifteen minutes, just long enough for everyone to change and clean up and for the stage crew to set up for the next scene. You’re sweating from being under the lights, hair matted by your forehead where your perspiration collects, and you wipe away what you can with a paper towel as you head off stage to take a breather.

You’re barely out into the hallway when you feel someone grab onto your wrist at the same time a voice outside says, “Attention, everyone, could I just get your attention for a moment?”

It’s Yoongi.

Eyes wide, you turn to the person holding onto your wrist to find your best friend smiling guiltily at you, like he knows something you don’t. He definitely knows something you don’t.

“Taehyung, what on earth are you doing?” You hiss at him, but he shrugs.

“I’m being the best friend in the entire world,” Taehyung responds, before he pulls you down to the doors that lead to the pit, opening them and pushing you into the auditorium. Almost immediately, a light shines on you, and you wince as your eyes adjust to the glare. Taehyung waves up to Hoseok. “Go!” Taehyung shouts, motioning up to where Yoongi stands, rocking back and forth in his all black Converse, a microphone in his hand.

Your hardened expression softens into something grossly fond as you make your way up the stairs onto the stage, the spotlight following your each and every step. Yoongi waits at the top like a groom watching his bride come down the aisle. You can’t help but feel like that comparison isn’t too far off.

“Sorry to disrupt your, uh, intermission, everyone,” he says gruffly into the microphone. “This’ll be really quick.” You can tell that he doesn’t want to look into your eyes but he can’t figure out a better place to put his gaze. “Anyway, Y/N, you know that I do a lot of dumb sh—I mean, stuff to get your attention and then you said that I should step my game up so here we are.”

Even if this the most public any one of his elaborate confessions has been, it doesn’t feel that way. You’ve got an entire audience this time, both in the seats and backstage, everyone watching as Yoongi tries one more time. You can hear the doors leading to the pit opening as the entire cast tries to get a glimpse of what’s happening on stage.

This feels different.

It feels different because suddenly Yoongi’s the speechless one, cheeks bright red as he tries to curl into his clothing, sink into the fabric impossibly closer. You’re the one receiving whatever love confession is on the end of this but now he’s the one who’s unsure and embarrassed. It’s kind of endearing, really.

“You’ve probably heard me say this a bunch but I figured there was no better way to say it than in front of the audience for the first night of our show, right?” He forces a chuckle and it makes him cough a little. You can’t help but smile at him. “I don’t know, you’ve always been so wonderful and kind and strong and funny and you make everyone around you laugh, even me, and I make all of these elaborate schemes to ask you out on a date with me but I feel like doing this whole thing just for a date is a bit shallow, so I’ve decided on something else.”

It’s then that Jung Hoseok, decked out in a black hoodie three times the size of his torso and skintight pants, shuffles onto stage with a single rose in his hand. It’s a lavender purple rose. You didn’t even realize that they sold those.

“Anyway, what I’m really trying to say before everyone in the audience gets fed up with me for taking time out of their intermission is, well,” Yoongi teeters on his feet awkwardly, leaning his weight from one side to the other as he twirls the rose between his fingers. “Will you go to prom with me?”

You open your mouth to respond but Seokjin beats you to it.

“Say yes!” He shouts from the sidelines, making Yoongi laugh.

Yoongi looks so nervous. So unsure of himself yet so hopeful, wishing and wishing and wishing. You’ve got a four year streak of turning him down and for the longest time you swore you’d never break it but things are different now.

“I’d love to, Min.”

Yoongi lights up, not even like a Christmas tree but like the whole fucking Christmas display at the mall, the one with reindeers and snowflakes and everything. He lights up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. He carefully gives the rose to you but you crush it between your fingers as you hug him, pull him close.

Everyone in the audience cheers. Taehyung’s shouting, “That’s my best friend! That’s my best friend right there!” Next to him, Jungkook’s got his camera up, filming the boy in all black with a pink tinge to his cheeks and the girl in tattered rags with dirt covering her face.

When you and Yoongi walk off stage to join your friends behind the scenes, he laces his fingers in between yours. You don’t anticipate on letting go for a long while.

“Can we banish them from the couch?” Hoseok asks loudly, over the music playing from the television. “They’re being all date-y and shit.”

“We are dating, you asshole,” Yoongi shouts. He’s got one arm wrapped around your side as the other holds the phone up in front of your faces, your body curled into him with your knees tucked close to your chest, leaning against him.

“That’s up to the man of the house, Hobi,” Jimin says as he hands Hoseok another root beer. He motions to Seokjin, who is entirely too busy laughing his entire ass off as he plays What Do You Meme? with Namjoon, Taehyung, Eunbi, and Jungkook on the carpet. They seem to be having a grand old time. You move your head over slightly to see them battling over who won the card with that blue button meme with the giant word NUT written on top of it. Namjoon eventually gives the round to Seokjin, prompting everyone else to accuse them of cheating because they’re dating.

“I hate this so much,” Hoseok says, sighing. “What are you guys even watching?”

“It’s this video of an owner dressing up as their dog’s favorite toy,” Yoongi says without taking his eyes off of the video. The dog starts smothering its owner in kisses. God, you don’t deserve dogs.

“You guys might not want to sit on the left side of that couch!” Seokjin shouts as a warning from across the way, eyebrows raised and cheeks tinged a hazy red in the dim light of his living room.

You and Yoongi look at each other, confused for a brief second, before the both of you start groaning, quickly getting up from where you were seated and searching for another place of lodging. Did you need to know what Seokjin and Namjoon do in their free time? Absolutely not. Did you find out anyway? Unfortunately.

“Hey, deal us in,” you say to Taehyung, settling down in between him and Jungkook. Yoongi takes a seat beside you as Taehyung hands each of you seven cards. Your boyfriend—God, that’s so nice to say—instantly laughs, hearty and loud and wonderful, upon reading the first one.

The next meme Namjoon pulls from the box is the one photo from when Obama gave Joe Biden the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Everyone laughs at the sight of it as they play their cards. It’s Seokjin’s turn to judge.

When he flips over the last card, it’s a freestyle one. Taehyung immediately claims it as his own.

“Go on, give us what you got, Tae,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung clears his throat before announcing, “When Y/N finally said yes to going out with Yoongi after four years of being too constipated in her feelings to realize that she liked him.”

The night fades out like the end of a film, the last scene of a play, with everyone laughing as you beat your best friend with your fists for being so goddamn awful. Yoongi presses an insistent kiss to your forehead as Seokjin easily hands that one to Taehyung, who takes the meme card with pride.

The curtain closes.

thank you so much for reading! i just learned that i can’t put links on my posts otherwise tumblr x-nays them for the search engine, so if you wanna talk to me, hit up my ask box!

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam France season 3, episode 9 reaction

Okay, I finally did this one! I’m not sure how many people still care since Skam France S3 ended back in March, but I wanted to complete the whole season. Sorry for the delay, anyone still interested! I apologize if I forgot some crucial details in writing this since there was such a large gap between viewing the rest of the season.

Episode 9

Clip 1 - Guru advice for a sad boy

Lucas is lying on the couch after his rough night. Are they still going to make him sleep on the couch after this shit went down? Why is he even there anymore after he told them sobbing that this was his room now a few episodes ago? Or when he stumbled in with his boyfriend to fuck on the sofa and Lisa was like, yeah, make Manon sleep on the couch instead since she’s not getting any? Because I refuse to believe that Lucas chose to camp there voluntarily either when he was a) getting laid or b) in the throes of despair.

Mika checks in on him and tries to comfort him. There’s a nice, humanizing part where he says just because he seems happy all the time doesn’t mean he’s never sad, and just because he sleeps around now doesn’t mean he’s never been in love. Lucas apologizes for saying a dumb thing and Mika says it’s OK to be dumb when you’re sad. But don’t be dumb too long, meaning don’t be sad too long. He gives Lucas a kiss on the forehead. So at least we’re getting some of this affection between them later in the season. 

Lucas asks Mika how you move on and Mika is just like … shrug. Like he literally shrugs. I mean, I get that there’s no easy answer, but you could have said that instead of leaving Lucas hanging, dude, give the guy a little relief.

Clip 2 - Lucas’ dad suuuuucks

Lucas is doing laundry and looking up bipolar disorder on his phone when Eliott sends him a picture, kinda similar to the one on IG of his raccoon fursona throwing away crumpled drawings? I think it’s be the same one. It’s like he’s trying to say something to Lucas but doesn’t know what. He sends another pic where the raccoon seems to want to call out to hedgehog but the hedgehog spurns him and doesn’t want to talk. Eliott then sends him a bunch of photos at once and Lucas texts him not to contact him because he's not dealing well right now. Which is kinda different from Isak’s reply to Even the night after? It might be lost in translation, but Isak was more “I don’t know what’s going on” and Lucas is like “I’m not dealing well with this,” so confusion vs. hurt/upset feelings.

More dramatic piano music as Lucas gets another text. not from Eliott, but from his dad, asking if it’s true he has a boyfriend. OK, so Dad is a homophobe? Because he sure took a while to answer his son (compared to Isak’s dad who answered him immediately). Like did he need almost a full week to process that his son was dating a guy, he didn’t text or call in the meantime? Dad says if that’s true that Lucas has a boyfriend, it’s not a good idea to bring him to church. He attributes it to Lucas’ mom not being able to understand, but this seems way more like Lucas’ dad’s problem. 

Isak’s dad wasn’t a great guy, but I think he genuinely didn’t have a problem with Isak being gay, or at least not a huge one. He responded to Isak’s coming out right away, said it was nice if Isak had a boyfriend and he would like to meet him, and checked in with Isak about whether he was sad about breaking up with his boyfriend. It’s very possible he wasn’t 100% fine with it, but it seemed like he was awkward at worst rather than actually disapproving. Lucas’ dad feels like he is seriously not OK with it even if he’s trying not to come across that way. He waited almost a week to respond to his son coming out to him and then didn’t say anything nice like “I’m happy for you” on top of that, he just said went into how it wasn’t a good idea to bring his boyfriend to church. Lucas’ mom’s possible reaction felt like an excuse for his own problem. And I don’t think it was even her potential response as a religious person, but maybe the dad thinking that Lucas should keep his gay relationship away from the church as a general rule.

Lucas starts to type out that it was a joke (about having a boyfriend), but deletes the message and doesn’t reply, then seems about to cry again. So like Isak, he can’t bear to say it wasn’t real. 

Also, by this point in Isak’s season, Isak had come out to both his parents, and he got his mother’s acceptance text right at his lowest point, when he needed it. So at least that weight was off his back. Lucas hasn’t even told her about having a boyfriend yet, so it’s just pure misery for him with no relief. He’s probably even more anxious about his mom rejecting him because of his dad’s text.

Clip 3 - Charles is THE ACTUAL WORST, NO EXAGGERATION

Manon and Emma are talking about Charles when Lucas gets home. Can we please inform the remake writers that this storyline is not even necessary in adaptations where the William actors don’t leave the show? Remember how much Noorhelm there was in S4? If it’s like this in S3 what will the Manon and Charles drama be in Imane’s season? Or will it be toned down in that season and is only more prominent in this one as a way to incorporate the girl squad more in a boy’s season?

However, Manon says Lucas can stay to hear about what happened with her and Charles, which is seriously a sweet moment since it shows how close they are and how much she trusts him. Additionally, he gets to return the favor (of sorts), because Manon supported him and Eliott and was there for him when he was falling apart, so now Lucas can listen to Manon’s story and support her in her time of need.

Manon tells her story. At first it was great with her and Charles, then he got busy working for his dad and Manon had classes, and she didn’t make many friends. I like that she’s all “not my strong point” to Emma; that’s nice continuity, since Emma was the first friend she made at her new school, and they bonded over not having friends, heh. Manon got summoned to testify against Nico and she was upset about it; Charles noticed but she couldn’t talk about it. Then Charles went back to Paris to see his mom and Nico was invited without warning. They talked, Nico cried a lot, he was depressed and regretted what happened. Charles thought Nico needed therapy, but prison would fuck up his life. Especially because Nico didn’t even rape Manon. Yes, that is what Charles actually said to Manon. The fuck.

Charles said he would support Manon in whatever choice but really, while he didn’t impose anything on her, he also didn’t support her. The day of the trial, she went to court but ended up leaving before it happened. Charles asked how it went and she told him the truth, but that she wasn’t coming home, either. Manon didn’t tell anyone what happened because she was embarrassed about leaving for London with her dream man and coming back after only a few months. She felt so stupid. Manon cries, Emma is supportive, Lucas suggests they all drink. Emma is like YESSSSS. Lucas is not surprised Emma wants to drink.

Manon is like, the last time I drank wasn’t exactly great. I mean ... good point, maybe not the best idea to remind her of Nico right now. Except Emma is like, I won’t make out with you, OK? Lucas is like, neither will I. Heh.

I’ll pay a compliment before I get into my rant: Marilyn Lima did a great job depicting Manon’s breakdown. I really felt for her. And that made me angrier at this narrative choice, honestly.

OK, I’m just like ... exasperated. And disgusted. I am not a Noorhelm fan. I didn’t like this story in Skam about why Noora left London. I think it illustrated why Noorhelm were not compatible as a couple, because the same mistakes were happening in S4 that happened with them in S2; just like when he ditched Noora at school when he heard from Niko and then ignored her texts telling him it was rape for days as she begged with him to talk to her, this incident again showed that William was not capable of supporting Noora to the degree she needed it. Sure, it’s a lovely moment when he holds her as she’s panicking, but what about when he cruelly removes that tenderness and love when he finds out why she’s panicking? It was her sexual assault, not his, and I know it’s more complicated because his brother was the perpetrator, but he still needed to put his own feelings aside and support his girlfriend, the victim. When he can’t do that, repeatedly, then we really need to question whether he is the right person for Noora. Not to mention that this issue was resolved off-screen, with Noora being vaguely like “we talked and I understand him so much better now” as if Noora’s failure to understand William’s feelings is the real problem here. Not to mention any other criticism I could say about Noorhelm. And in some ways I think Marles was worse than Noorhelm; there were times when Charles was more of a domineering asshole than William (the scene where he leaves Manon crying on the ground, for example, is even nastier). 

So I say this as someone who doesn’t really care about the pairing … did they have to make Charles so much of an irredeemable asshole here? 

Charles probably has some “good” reason for his behavior that we’ll find out later. Too bad I don’t give a fuck what it is. He minimized his girlfriend’s sexual assault because the attacker - his brother - didn’t technically rape Manon, because the brother is just so upset about it and crying and he needs therapy, not prison. Fuck Charles. Nico is probably manipulating him, or maybe Charles is doing this for his mother’s sake so her son doesn’t go to prison, who knows, but whatever the reason, he basically planted the idea in Manon’s head that Nico didn’t need to go to jail. He downplayed her need for justice. He downplayed her trauma. Like … the only acceptable explanation is that Charles was replaced by a pod person or an evil clone in Paris, and in S4 the real Charles fights his way out of the underground secret laboratory where he’s being held hostage and tells Manon the truth. That is the only way I will accept Charles and Manon endgame after this.

I would not have a problem with this development were I confident that Manon and Charles were going to break up for good. Okay, that makes sense as a factor that permanently separates them. I do still think it’s kind of frustrating and pointless, like why the fuck did we spend a whole season on their supposedly great and epic love if Charles was going to commit the same selfish and hurtful mistakes he did in S2? I think it would be fine to do a storyline where Marles/Noorhelm doesn’t work out because Charles just can’t be the guy Manon needs him to be, but like … that should be the story of S2. When they’re the focus of a season. When you can develop that idea clearly because the POV allows it. You could get them together earlier in the season and do an arc similar to Eva’s where the Noora realizes that while she loves William, it’s best if they break up because they don’t work as a couple (even if this might be a redundant storyline after S1, I think it could still have value in trying to portray girls not putting up with their boyfriends’ bad behavior). But not “we spent a full season trying to convince you they belong together, but something happens off screen and they broke up.” That’s narratively unsatisfying. And anyway, this whole rant is probably pointless, because my issue is that I don’t think they’re going to break them up for good. Charles will come swooping back later in S4 just like William did. He’ll likely have some weak excuse that we’re supposed to accept as justified for putting Manon through all of this pain. For fuck’s sake, even if, IDK, Nico was threatening Manon if she testified against him, or something dire like that, so Charles had to find a way to discourage her - in what world is it not better to tell Manon about this than to keep it to himself?

You know what? Even if you have sympathy for Charles, even if you think it’s understandable that he doesn’t want his brother to go to prison, however loathsome said brother might be - that still doesn’t mean he’s right for Manon. Maybe they love each other, maybe it’s not fair, but if he cannot support Manon entirely over his brother here, then this relationship will never ever be healthy. She is a victim of sexual assault; Nico is the one who assaulted her. There is no grey area to this situation. So if Charles cannot accept that, then he and Manon cannot and should not be in a romantic relationship; Manon deserves someone who can support her through her recovery of a harrowing experience wholeheartedly. I do understand if Charles has complicated feelings about the issue, but frankly then he needs to go to therapy and work them out with someone who is not the victim of a traumatic crime.

I mean, shit happens, sometimes you have to account for sudden unplanned factors, like when Thomas Hayes left the show. But Michel Biel didn’t as far as I know, so there was no reason to insert this frankly evil drama into the narrative. There was no reason to send Manon to London at all? She was going to move in with Charles. That was literally what was planned for them after S2 to free up a room for Lucas. It’s just so goddamn dumb. 

I’m trying to consider if maybe the purpose of this crap was to make a parallel to Lucas’ situation, maybe to show Lucas how Eliott must feel to be abandoned by the one he loves by showing Manon breaking down? But nah. If that was the case, it’s really not highlighted enough, I don’t think we see Lucas clearly link it to Eliott. I know subtlety isn’t this show’s strong suit, but this would have been so subtle as to not be present at all (which is why I don’t think it was intended). And it’s also way too big as drama not to have drastic consequences in itself.

God. I just. Why. Whyyyyyyy.

Clip 4 - Pity party turns to pity rave

They’re all hanging out and drinking, nice to see all three season leads so far get a scene together. Manon’s lying in Lucas’ lap, that’s cute. They’re bemoaning their love lives and it’s Emma’s turn to vent about her relationship with Alex. Manon suggests talking to him to find out if he has good qualities other than sex. See, I would buy this if all we knew about them was that they were hooking up, but we’ve seen through social media that they do hang out together outside of the bedroom? They go places together enough to document their experiences on IG. So they would’ve attempted conversations already, they would’ve tried to bond. I think it’s time for Emma to call it like it is: a satisfying sexual relationship, nothing more. 

Lucas is like, you’re lucky, you have a boyfriend unlike Manon and I. Dude, Lucas, come on. Emma is just FWBing it with Alex anyway, according to her. He’s drinking and getting sloppy and telling them about Eliott’s freak-out and him being bipolar and Emma is like, I have it worse. Lmao shut up, no you don’t. I get it in the sense that having a bipolar boyfriend is not a terrible thing, but Eliott’s manic episode is certainly a more drastic and serious thing than just being with some conversational dud who knows how to maneuver his penis. Even Lucas is like BUT MY BOYFRIEND IS BIPOLAR, though in his case I think it’s still the ableism peeking out.

Manon is like, excuse me, I have it the worst. They agree. I also agree. Charles is undoubtedly the worst.

Mika and Lisa come home and join in the debauchery. They put on a disco light and everyone dances. It’s very tonally jarring and I think it’s supposed to be kinda not actually happening? Or rather, some version of this is happening but Lucas’ POV is exaggerating or distorting it because he’s drunk. The lyrics are like “Take control” so I suppose this is his desperate way of reclaiming his messy emotional state 

I do like the shot of Mika showing off his nipples and Lucas seeing it and being like … nope. 

Manon and Emma make out and Lisa and Mika make out and I’m kinda cranky about it, because I don’t need more straight girl hawt drunk make-outs or a gay guy kissing his female roommate, like what a double dose of bullshit. More generously, I can attribute this to Lucas hallucinating and being out of sorts while he’s drunk and so imagining “wrong things” like everyone around him standing still, Manon and Emma kissing when they’re not a couple, Mika and Lisa kissing when Mika is gay, etc. 

It’s all fun and games and party electronic dance makeouts until Lucas slows down and gets miserable. Things get blurry. He can’t drink his angst away, not for long. 

There’s a shot spliced in of Eliott making eye contact with him on the dance floor in episode 3, as Lucas is coming down from his high. Nice inclusion as Lucas is trying to escape his problems but of course he can’t get over Eliott or his sadness that easily.

There’s possibly more you could analyze about the composition of the ending but the editing kinda gave me a headache so I only watched the clip once, sorry.

Clip 5 - Basile isn’t a dumbass for once

Lucas is very hungover at school on Monday. Yann is like oooo, night out with Eliott? Lucas explains that it’s because of Eliott that he got drunk. He says Eliott is bipolar as Arthur and Basile sit down. Arthur is like, Kanye West is bipolar. Maybe not the best example to use in 2019, bro. 

Honestly they’ve ruined Basile SO FUCKING MUCH with his horrible creepy sexism that I can’t even enjoy this moment from him where he talks about his mom. I mean, this is easily the best Basile has been all season, and if they hadn’t made him so disgusting, it’d be a great scene for him. And I completely understand people liking him in this moment. Hell, divorced from anything else in this season, I like him in this moment! But I cannot get over how atrocious their depiction of him has been elsewhere in the story, like I’m glad he dropped some wisdom on Lucas but this isn’t some magical fix-it that will erase my negative feelings about him.

Like for example, Basile says the first time his mom saw a Tom Cruise movie, she fell madly in love with him and flew to LA and went to his house and got removed by the cops. And not to be insensitive since this is an example of her mania, but my first thought was, “Oh, stalking runs in the family.”

The rest of the dialogue is pretty similar to OG where Basile inquires about how Eliott is doing and he suggests Lucas talk to Eliott, Lucas is a dumbass for listening to Eliott’s ex, etc. Basile says it seems like Eliott really wanted to be with Lucas, and that there are times when it will suck, but if Lucas wants to be with Eliott, he’s got to do it, you have to take people as they are. I dislike the music intruding over the end - I don’t think it’s well-timed and it feels forced - but other than that, the message is fine.

Clip 6 - Bye bye foyer

I like how Lucas and Yann are kinda cuddled into each other as they share earbuds and the couch. Lucas is still wearing his ROMANCE sweatshirt despite being deep in heartbreak. I admire his commitment to love.

There’s a little meta joke because they’re watching a show on Yann’s phone, and he says it’s episode 9, and it’s almost over. Which is of course a reference to it being episode 9 of Skam France with the season almost over, heh.

Lucas gets a text from his mom about going to confession and how God forgives those who deviate from the path as long as they come back to it. This leads into the coming out from his mom, and THAT GODDAMN TINKLY PIANO MUSIC starts up again. I do think it’s been used appropriately at times, but at other moments it feel so soap opera-ish and overly dramatic. Sometimes it seems like Skam France is a really insecure show, like how they have characters state the obvious like they were afraid the audience wouldn’t get it, or they go for the OTT music as if the writing, acting, and directing won’t be enough to elicit an emotional reaction.

I mean I realize it is Bad and Wrong to compare Skams but remember in the original version of this scene where Isak just sat and typed out this entire, very long message, and it was silent except for the cafe noises and the camera stayed still on him the whole time, because Julie trusted the audience not to fidget and for Tarjei’s acting and the importance of the scene to hold everyone’s attention? And in Skam France we get the music and the camera will not stop moving like they assume the audience is made of easily bored toddlers who need stuff swirling in front of their eyes at all times. Speaking of, WHY ALL THE FUCKING PANS, why does the camera need to move so much, whyyyyyyyy. It’s distracting and doesn’t even fit for the emotional tone of the scene, really? Like isn’t he actually pretty steady writing this to his mom? Shouldn’t the cinematography reflect that?

Lucas starts to type a text about how he met someone and don’t get mad at him, but he deletes it and just types out a message saying he’s gay, sorry if it hurts or disappoints you, see you on Friday, love you. And Lucas’ mom texts him back immediately to tell him she loves him, too, and that she’s proud of him.

Heavy sigh. I feel bad being negative about this scene because it is important and beautiful for Lucas to hear, he’s profoundly touched by his mother’s acceptance, but boy oh boy did they minimize the impact of this scene, even aside from my gripes with the cinematography and music. 

So the Religion clip was the catalyst for Isak coming out to his mom, and he specifically uses Sana’s words to come out to her. None of the S3 remakes seem to understand that clip’s importance to the Isak character except that hey, talking about religion and homosexuality is good! It aggravates me because it makes it seem like the writers missed a basic connection within the story; they think stuff just happens in the season Just Because and don’t get the cause and effect (like the generalization dialogue earlier in the season, something both France and Italia included without really seeming to get why it was there other than “the message is important”). And I mean, you can adapt the religion scene so it’s not the same! You can adapt the message, it doesn’t have to be verbatim. But not connecting the religion clip to Lucas coming out to his mom makes that relationship between Lucas and Imane less meaningful. It makes the scene more of a tangent rather than an important stepping stone in Lucas’ coming out narrative. It’s just there.

Again, I hate being sour about this but it just makes me grumpy, like I feel this is a demonstration of the differences between Skam and Skam France. Skam did this simple, quiet coming out scene where we just lingered on the actor for a while and which was built up to within the narrative by a prior scene that linked the two thematically, and which delivered the “punchline” with some excellent pacing (where Isak’s mom didn’t reply until when we least expected it, and with powerful timing and execution, when Isak most needed to hear it), and Skam France flies by this pivotal scene and does it in under two minutes like it’s getting it out of the way, with nothing remarkable about pacing and timing, but with dramatic music and camera movement.

Part of my problem is that honestly, I feel like Skam France kind of ... doesn’t care about this moment. Consider the amount of time given to Lucas’ coming out to his mom and her acceptance, versus the amount of time for the foyer stuff that takes up the rest of the clip. I feel like other than Yann’s random initial rejection, all of Lucas’ coming out stuff has been so smoothed over and easy, not just from an outsiders’ perspective, but from a personal psychological perspective. And it’s not that I expect CONSTANT TORMENT but it feels massively oversimplified, like these scenes are just obligatory. I hate to say this because I know the screenwriter is gay and I don’t want to diminish any personal anecdotes on coming out he brought to the story, whether this reflects his own experience. But I almost feel like they knew the Evak fans would flock to this season (which is true, we know with all the behind the scenes stuff and cast interviews they were doing that were blatantly to appeal to shippers) and so they allocated some screen time to getting in the shippy romantic content while pushing aside some of the pesky, less exciting stuff that doesn’t have to do with romance. Like for instance, coming out to one’s mom.

I do like that when Lucas is crying, Yann asks him if he’s OK and Lucas is just kinda like, yeah, I’m fine, and Yann smiles at him. It’s a simple, nice moment.

But here I go again. Just the fact that this incredibly pivotal and meaningful scene is cut off so we can get to the fucking common room drama?? The common room is more important that Lucas coming out to his mom?? They could have at least made the coming out moment a separate clip from the foyer stuff with the principal. It’s not like they haven’t been doing that all season, splitting up big scenes into two or more clips. (And yeah, Isak’s coming out to his mom didn’t have its own clip, but the content surrounding it was at least extremely important and concerned Isak on a very personal level, compared to the foyer stuff.)

The principal storms in and yells because the students have been snatching the Wifi. Daphne takes the blame and gets in trouble for it. Then the principal hears giggling from another room and there is the nerd dude who set up the Wifi and Chloé’s friend Maria, getting cozy on the mattress. They get up and run off when the principal yells at them. Okay, who the FUCK thought it was a good idea to put a mattress in a room behind a closed door, in a school full of hormonal teenagers??? Did you not think this is where it would lead? Idiots.

The principal is roaring mad and yells at Daphne more. What’s next, a Fight Club (lmao, I wouldn’t be surprised) or a heroin den? He singles out the mural as peak bullshit and tells the students to pack up their things. The foyer is closed. And they have to come in on Saturday to repaint the mural.

Lucas is like, no, that’s where I lost my virginity! It’s a monument to my first experience with gay sex! No, actually he just defends it as an homage to Jackson Pollock. Yann defends it more calmly, but the principal gives them both detention. Well, that’s not fair, Yann didn’t deserve that.

Imane stands in front of the principal and gives a speech about how they all participated in the mural and how it means something to them and represents their differences, difference races and sexual orientations. It shows how they can all live together. And now he wants to paint over the mural in white, of all colors? It’s a good speech not because she means it, because L M F A O they did not all paint that fucking mural, Lucas and Eliott splashed some paint on the wall before fucking against it, but because it appeals to the principal’s sense of self-preservation. Does he really want to erase the mural that represents his marginalized students and the harmony and diversity of the school? Does he really want to risk the backlash?

The principal backs down from the mural and leaves. Wait a minute. Imane didn’t actually mean that speech did she? Because lmao, this mural did not mean anything about diversity. There’s an ass print on the wall, for fuck’s sake.

I think she was definitely manipulating the principal and going over-the-top, but the issue is that the rest of the season then tries to play her words as sincere, like that’s the whole point of them standing up for the foyer in the finale, that it’s a place that brings different people together.

Anyway, they’re all sad. The foyer is closing! Daphne says there will be a solution, the others comfort and reassure her. 

Maybe because I’m in a bad mood from the coming out part of the scene but: I do not care about the foyer. Actually, I care about it a tiny bit in that Daphne would be sad if it closed and Daphne is my girl but other than that? Nah. 

And you know what? The principal had a fucking point! Multiple points! They did host a party after school hours where dozens of students broke into the school and potentially caused mess or damage. They were stealing Wifi to the point where it was slowing down the network. They did have a room with a mattress where two students were just caught in the act of trying to hook up. He was being petty about the mural, but other than that? He’s not wrong. I love Daphne but looking at it from the POV of a meanie adult, she’s enabled a lot of irresponsible actions with this foyer regardless of possible negative consequences.

But mostly? I don’t care about this. I’m weary of how the foyer has encroached on Lucas’ season the way the bus took over Sana’s season. I only gave a shit about the bus because as it meant something to Sana with reconciling her Norwegian culture with her Muslim/Moroccan culture, and because I wanted to see the girl squad have fun in the bus, not because I cared about the bus in itself and how big it is or whether it has certain features or if they can afford a bus as opposed to a van. Likewise, I care about the foyer only in how it relates to the main characters, and so far mostly it’s just Daphne’s investment in it.  Lucas’ investment in the foyer is mainly that he and Eliott did the mural and fucked there, a scene that was ridiculous in itself, so I have a hard time caring about it. 

But like … if Lucas really cared about this foyer instead of seeming just along for the ride for most of its development? It would make more thematic sense in the season. Like if he and Eliott were more actively involved in fixing up the foyer all season instead of just the mural scene, if it really represented something to them. Say he and Eliott had more meetings and flirtations in there. Or Lucas secretly crashed here when he was having problems at home. If this foyer really felt important to Lucas. Because honestly, I feel like his involvement is mostly “the girls asked him to do something and he did it because he had nothing better to do/got railroaded into it.”

He does text later that the mural is all he has left of Eliott. But the mural is now safe? The principal backed down from painting over the mural. So again … who cares.

IDK, I feel like there were so many ways this could be better. For example, if the foyer was more actively a place that represented diversity and LGBT rights and anti-racism and political activism. If the mural had some legitimate political commentary behind it, or they’d hung a pride flag somewhere and the principal came in and told them to take it down. Or maybe he just got word that a gay couple (aka Lucas and Eliott) were being snuggly in here - not that they banged, just that they were kissing and holding hands in a place that made them feel safe and welcome, and he came in to shut it down in a way that was loaded with microaggressions against them. Then the foyer would genuinely feel like something that needed to be protected. As it is, I’m just like … he’s not wrong about anything he said, lmao, and the idea that the foyer is some haven of diversity and different people coming together feels totally tacked on.

Clip 7 - Lucas’ mom is great

Lucas goes to church and meets with his mom. His mom greets him warmly and hugs him, so that’s very sweet. But it turns out Lucas’ dad isn’t coming. Mama blames it on leaving too many voicemails for him, and that she thinks he doesn’t want to see her anymore since the separation. Nah, I think Lucas’ dad is just a turd, and probably a big homophobe.

Mama says people are the way they are, you can’t try to change them, they have good qualities and their faults. We just need time to understand. So kinda similar to what Basile said earlier about taking people as they are. Lucas ponders that and they go inside the church.

I’m kinda ehhh on them using a church for this scene, considering there hasn’t been as much religious symbolism in this season? Lucas’ mom did send him Bible texts, and there was the Lucas light/dark stuff, but that didn’t seem explicitly tied to religion the way the Isak birth/rebirth stuff was through the 21:21 reference, or the baptism imagery, Even’s Halloween costume, the presence of Christmas? However, I could totally just be missing something. And I don’t think it’s wrong for them to use a church, just that I think it’s a church because it was a church in Skam, rather than because they built up the religious symbolism in this season.

Clip 8 - Run for your love

Lucas and his mom are in church. There are some shots of candles so I guess that’s a tie-in to the light/dark imagery. Or that Lucas is finally seeing the light, heh.

The mass starts and soon Lucas gets a text from Lucille about how no one can find Eliott and they’re freaking out. So Eliott himself doesn’t send Lucas a text, let alone a goodbye text. He’s totally gone off the grid.

We get a montage through Lucas and Eliott’s relationship as the priest talks about how believers can find peace and comfort in God, God gives us the strength we need. No matter your sorrow, God accepts you and you’ll never be alone because God is with you. The church is your shelter. Mixed in with the priest’s words are images of Eliott, so it comes across pretty clearly that Eliott = God in this scenario? Lucas finds peace and comfort in Eliott, he gets strength through him, he’s not alone with Eliott.

I think this would come across a bit stronger if they had built up that religious symbolism throughout the season, because otherwise the Eliott = Lucas’ God thing is a little ... random. I get that they probably just wanted the priest’s words to resonate with Lucas rather then trying to say Eliott = God as a metaphor, but it’s one of those those things where they could have subtly planted connections all along. (I don’t remember any but I’m also finishing this recap like two months later, so I could’ve forgotten something.)

The montage is kinda funny if you consider that Lucas is in church, flashing back to the better times of him boning Eliott. I mean ... who wouldn’t, really.

I enjoy Seinabo Sey and appreciate Skam France using so much of her music, but at first I wasn’t sure how I feel about this choice of song. Is it too on the nose (“I’ll remember you” for a flashback montage)? Skam used plenty of songs with lyrics that described what was happening on screen. Does it fit the church setting? Eh, I don’t think a church scene needs a religious soundtrack. So the song choice has grown on me a bit since then.

I think the reason I was somewhat hesitant about the montage is that Lucas gets a text that Eliott is missing and he just sits there for a few minutes flashing back to the good ol’ days instead of reacting immediately like oh shit, Eliott’s disappeared. Even if they’re not in a relationship, that’s still cause for concern. Whereas with Isak, he didn’t quite understand Even’s text at first; he just smiled and sat down because Even loved him and he read the text in a purely positive way. It was when he realized Even’s text was a possible suicide note that he left the church to go after him. I guess because Lucas was remembering his relationship with Eliott, he was able to figure out where Eliott might be? But still, seems like he should’ve reacted instantly to Eliott possibly being in trouble.

Lucas decides to go and tells his mom. They exchange I love yous, which is sweet and a great closing note for this relationship. The shot of him walking down the aisle feels like a direct homage to OG.

“Remember me under the sun” - OK so I guess that’s another light reference.

The growing intensity of the music is good and I was getting into the scene but dear lord, the slow mo of Lucas running is ABSURD. Why did this turn into Chariots of Fire all of a sudden? Why is Lucas running through the actual street and not the sidewalk, he’s going to get by a car!

OH MY GOD HE ALMOST DID GET HIT BY A CAR, WHY WAS THAT NECESSARY, I STARTED LAUGHING MY ASS OFF

Like was that some outtake where Axel Auriant almost got mowed down because they asked him to run in the fucking street and they decided to keep it in for the ~drama? Talk about a mood killer.

I do like that Lucas knew where to go because he knew it was a place special to Eliott, and to the two of them. And that he found Eliott in the dark and that Lucas brings the light on both of them (literally, with his cell phone). Maxence does a nice job of crying and looking heartbroken.

This scene isn’t bad (except for the running and almost getting hit by the car…. why) but it does makes me think the remakes really need to start from scratch with the climax of this season. Not just recreate an O Helga Natt-ish clip with similar setting, music, dialogue, or story beats, but to look independently at what the themes of the season are - not OG, their season - and then build up something that’s consistent with that. That’s a big part of why O Helga Natt is such a masterpiece: It ties together Isak’s main lessons throughout the season, as well as paying off foreshadowing and incorporating multiple motifs and threads of symbolism that have been developed along the way. 

So for example, just a small observation: Lucas tells Eliott he’s not alone anymore. Which is of course a line from O Helga Natt, and a line that does have a powerful meaning in this context. I’m not saying it’s a bad line in the slightest. But in O Helga Natt, Isak was saying it as a direct response to Even’s text message, in which he says “everyone is alone anyway.” And also in response to something Even said back in episode 5, about “the brain is alone” and being alone with your thoughts and the only way to escape is death. And to some degree in the hotel clip when Even said the alone way to have something forever was to lose it, just after they were talking about Isak and Even in infinite universes, as if Even was talking about losing Isak and being alone. It was established that Even had a fear of being alone. Here, Eliott does not send Lucas a text, so “You’re not alone anymore” is not a direct response to anything. And I don’t remember Eliott saying anything about being alone in episode 5, having that line of Even’s, or in episode 8 (Again, I took a long break between recaps so it’s very possible I just forgot Eliott’s prior comments about being alone to Lucas, feel free to remind me.) So while the line is sweet and supportive and powerful, IMO it lacks the extra punch that Isak’s “You’re not alone” did simply because Skam’s writing was tighter. I mean ... if Isak hadn’t said “You’re not alone,” would Lucas have said it to Eliott? Might he have said something else relevant to their relationship, rather than recreating an existing iconic line? I don’t know if I’m explaining myself clearly, and I truly don’t mean to make a mountain out of a molehill, because the line is perfectly fine here. It’s just that I think the remakes need to not lean on O Helga Natt so much, and instead rely on their own ingredients in the season to craft this climactic scene, if they want to create something with the most impact.

Social Media/General Comments:

Lucas doesn’t text Mika after the boat clip, he texts Manon. Which seems completely in line with those relationships, in my opinion. Isak texting Eskild and Eskild dropping everything to go home after the hotel is a testament to that relationship’s strength, but Lucas and Mika still don’t seem to have that degree of closeness, even if their relationship has gotten stronger. It’s Manon who Lucas seems closest to, the one who can cry with him and sit in silence together just for comfort. 

However, Lucas doesn’t give Manon the details or even imply something is wrong in his text to her; he writes a (typo-filled) draft where he explains what happened on the boat and then deletes it. I’m assuming he told her afterwards, but this is a really good detail! Skam France and other remakes sometimes miss innovative ways to use social media to enhance the story, and I think this small touch is quite clever. Lucas is shaken and distraught after the boat and writes this messy draft of a text to Manon, spilling everything, but he deleted it and went with a neutral text, holding back the information. The reason I think he deleted his explanatory text is not just because of how messed up it was, but because writing out everything - Eliott disappeared, he’s bipolar - would make it more real, and Lucas cannot handle that it the moment, it’s too much.

Mika sends Lucas a link to a sad song, for help with his wallowing, I guess. Maybe not the best thing to send tbh, but it was kindly meant. And Lucas posted on his IG story that he was listening to it, so perhaps it helped him.

The pity party was documented quite well on IG. I wonder what Eliott thought if he saw any of it? Lucas drunk and dancing ... could go “he’s upset” or “he’s glad to be rid of me” which tbh I could see happening in a depressed mindset.

Eliott posted colors to his IG - like just colors - and deleted them really fast. Which is another good use of social media here, possibly to illustrate his changing moods, to hint at his mindset (like his depression being just a dark gradient) I’m kind of like ... why didn’t they do something like this last week to hint at his mania?

Lucas contacted Eliott via text, saying he wanted to see him or talk. That would’ve been good to see in a clip, really.

People using Imane’s BS speech on IG to promote the common room cause = LMAO.

Lucas says the mural is all he has left of Eliott, which is at least some reason he’d care about protecting it and the foyer. The boys encourage him to go to Eliott’s place, and Lucas is hesitant, saying he was told to stay away. However, then there’s an IG story of Lucas outside Eliott’s building. 

Lol, OK, that’s something that definitely would be better as a clip rather than a stalker-y IG post. I mean, when you think about it, isn’t it kind of weird for him to broadcast that to the world? I guess he hoped Eliott would see it and know Lucas cares and wants to talk to him?

But sooo many questions. Like ... did Lucas try to ring the bell or contact Eliott while he was there ... or did he just stand looking up at his window like a creep ... how long was he standing there ... I don’t think they thought this one through. Yeah, absolutely should have been an actual clip so we know what the hell happened. 

Ok I realize it is sooooo after the fact, and regarding this topic that has already been discussed to death, I hate to come back with another rant like AND ANOTHER THING!!!! but at some point I came to another realization about why Yann’s reaction to Lucas’ coming out is bad and stupid and I wanted to get it out because it has been bugging me.

Yann’s reaction is bad and stupid because the “you weren’t honest with me/told everyone else but me” reaction is often fake and disingenuous. Like I hate to generalize and I’m sure that somewhere in the history of the world, someone has genuinely been hurt that their friend came out to other people before them, but also, sorry, I don’t think it’s a common authentic reaction. It’s a smokescreen for homophobia. 

So let’s talk about Please Like Me. Please Like Me is one of my favorite non-Skam shows ever. Like Skam S3, its protagonist, Josh, is a young gay man just accepting that he is gay and coming out (although he’s older than Isak). Like Isak, Josh has a mentally ill mother. Like Skam S3, Josh gets into a relationship with a mentally ill person. It’s less idealistic and more painful than Skam, but still completely worth a watch, I highly recommend checking it out.

At one point in Please Like Me, Josh goes with his boyfriend, Arnold, to Arnold’s birthday party with Arnold’s family. Arnold is not out to his family yet and is planning to come out to them at the party. However, in a previous episode Arnold told his friends that his dad has said he doesn’t like gay people and told Arnold to quit singing in a choir because people would think he was a (homophobic slur) and beat him up. So, Arnold’s dad is an established homophobic asshole!

At the party, Arnold announces to his family that he’s gay and dating Josh. Arnold’s brother and mom are like “Yeah, we knew,” which is not the best thing to say but they’re overall chill and supportive. Meanwhile, Arnold’s dad stands there with a sour look on his face. When he does finally speak, he says that he’s been “backed into a corner” - presumably because the rest of family supports Arnold, and because they have other guests with them looking expectantly at him waiting for him to say he’s OK with Arnold being gay. Like he’s basically saying he doesn’t have the freedom to react negatively. You know, something a total non-homophobe would say! Then he starts going in on Arnold for lying to him, and saying the biggest problem is that Arnold didn’t feel he could be honest with him. (Then he knocks over a croquembouche.) Arnold’s dad leaves, but not before telling his wife that Arnold should be gone when he gets back.

Why am I bringing up Please Like Me? Because Please Like Me, created-written-directed-acted by real-life gay man Josh Thomas, is smart enough to recognize that homophobes often direct their disapproval into other excuses to be upset when someone comes out. Arnold’s dad didn’t stand there and rant about how homosexuality is wrong or gross. He didn’t say anything about homosexuality at all. Instead, he funneled his feelings into the weaselly excuse of “you weren’t honest with me.” (This right after Arnold has said, in his coming out speech, that his best chance at happiness is to be honest. Honesty in this case acknowledging he’s gay and has a boyfriend.) But let’s be real: if that were the case, if Arnold’s dad were upset about the lying rather than his son’s sexuality, would he really get that angry? Enough to effectively kick his son out of the house? To knock over a goddamn croquembouche? No, this scene is obviously about a father being pissed that his son is gay. But he feels “backed into a corner” and it’s not like he can say he’s upset that his son is gay in front of everyone else, in front of the guests, his son’s boyfriend, his wife and other son who have known for a long time and are fine with it.  

Circling back to Skam France: we had Yann upset enough with Lucas coming out to him, for Totally Non-Homophobic Reasons, to walk away from him because he was hurt Lucas didn’t come out to him first. And I do believe the writer intended for Yann to not be homophobic at all! But it’s such a shitty, cheap excuse for drama, such a flimsy rationale for Yann’s reaction, one that doesn’t fit his prior behavior at all, that frankly, it pings too close to a smokescreen. Like Skam France is trying to pass off this blatantly artificial reaction as genuine. If someone reacted like this IRL, my gut feeling would be that they were a fucking homophobe. They’re most likely homophobic but aware that openly saying bad things about gay people, openly expressing their disapproval, is not a good look for them. Or they’re homophobic but trying to tell themselves they’re not by channeling their disappointment into other reasons that don’t rely on discomfort with homosexuality. It’s completely plausible and even probable for people to have some homophobic hangups under the surface, that in theory they were OK with gay people but when your best friend is staring you in the face telling you he’s in love with another man, those hangups might suddenly rise up.

And if somehow we give these reactions the benefit of the doubt, that someone is truly upset because “you lied to me” or “you didn’t tell me first?” - that person’s still a selfish asshole. Think about it. Your friend is confessing an extremely vulnerable secret about themselves, something that may have caused them great internal stress and pain, and you’re mad that they didn’t tell you sooner? Fuck off. 

Anyway. The point I’m making is: in a Doylist sense, I think Yann’s reaction is not homophobic. The Skam France team really didn’t think of it that way. In a Watsonian sense, I call bullshit. Yann walking off during the coming out scene is most plausible if Yann actually had a homophobic reaction to Lucas’ coming out, and needed some time to process it before accepting Lucas’ sexuality. His explanation to Lucas is weak and unlikely. If it is true, that makes Yann a self-centered asshole. I know people don’t react perfectly and obviously Yann stepped the fuck up for Lucas afterwards but let’s acknowledge it for what it is, prioritizing one’s entitlement to someone else’s deepest, most painful secrets over their comfort and safety in keeping those secrets. 

To be clear, I don’t hate Yann, not at all, and I attribute this mess solely to bad writing. It’s one of those things where the intent is different from the finished product. In analysis of Yann or Skam France or whatever, I’d acknowledge the intended purpose of that creative decision to make Yann walk away. But I’m also acknowledging that this creative decision is some stupid shit, lmao. And I’m aware the screenwriter is gay, and for all I know this is based on personal experience, but for now this scenario feels fake and manufactured only for drama, and inauthentic to how people would genuinely think and react in these scenarios. Someone who walks out on their friend when said friend comes out is probably homophobic to some degree, or else self-centered as fuck. Simple as that.

I am not French, so please feel free to correct me on any translation or cultural notes that I missed.

Like I said, I took a break from recaps, so I also might have forgotten certain details of this season, feel free to remind me of any of those, too!

If you got this far - and if you are still reading this after all this time - thank you very much, I love you!

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Seventeen

2600 words

November 8th 2017

Nialls POV

The positive reaction from the fans for the album was beyond your wildest dreams. They had already started to sing along, clearly having been on youtube and seen fans recordings of previous shows. It had been great getting back on the road again, tour bus life was something you had been use to and actually enjoyed. Even the living out of a suitcase and backpack part.

Something you were not enjoying however, was being separated from Callie. Since you'd got together just over two months ago you'd spent some of your nights together and some apart. You obviously preferred to be together, but had been fine for the week when you'd gone to Scotland for the golf event you had attended. However knowing that her being on the other tour bus was the reason you were apart was driving you crazy. Callie had been adamant that she would travel as contracted with the crew. The agreement being that when you were in a city for more than just the show night and not travelling to the next city inbetween, then she would stay with you in your room of the hotel. 

However the last time that had happened was 8 days ago, and you were missing her. 

The crew often headed off before you, as you had interviews and things to do. And when you had been at the venues it had been hectic and you'd had hardly any time alone.

The night of the CMA's was the same. You'd spent time with her and the band when you were rehearsing with Maren Morris. Introducing Callie as your guitar tech and girlfriend to Maren had felt amazing. You felt proud when she spent time chatting with her and her team, getting on well. Which was handy since Maren was due to tour with you next year.

With so many acts appearing at the Country Music Awards, you had a small dressing room and the crew and band had stayed mainly out on the tour buses. You would all be leaving straight after anyway, as you had a show the next night to travel to. 

Tonight was a big night for you, performing with Maren at the awards show was going to be a highlight of your career. Sound check went without a hitch and you then headed off for food and to get changed. Ellie had got you a custom made navy blue tux with some silver floral details on the lapels. Sienree spent some time doing your your hair and face, trying to keep your nerves at bay with some banter.

While she was finishing your hair you opened up your IG and noticed that John had put on a story. It was video of Gerry your drummer, Conor your violinist and Callie, having a laugh backstage. Conor was playing his violin, a familiar Irish folk song and Callie and Gerry were attempted some sort of Irish jig. You laughed at their attempt, both of them looking ridiculous.

It was so stupid to think that you missed her. The lack of quality time alone with her was beginning to take its toll. You only had tonight and two more shows before you could have a couple of days off in Nashville together. There was an amazing guitar store there that you were desperate to show her. Plus you had a couple of nights in a hotel to look forward to. You were not going to lie, the lack of intimacy left you yearning for her. Having to make do with the odd kiss here and there was rubbish. You wanted to cuddle her to sleep, stroke her hair as you lazed about and watched a film.

Just 3 more days.

As you were walking the red carpet that evening you spotted Maren up ahead with her fiance Ryan Hurd. You posed for photos with them and were soon guided towards the reporters. You spent a few minutes with each one, letting Maren take the lead as this was her home ground. Everyone was asking about your performance and tour plans for next year.

One particular reporter, a guy you'd met a couple of times at events asked Maren about her upcoming nuptials. She and Ryan were getting married in a few months and she launched into a chat about you singing as she walked down the aisle. Everyone laughed as you joked about it.

The reporter soon asked if you were single or not and you couldn't help but blush and try and guide the conversation away from discussing Callie. You got the impression that the reporter was just asking the question on everyone's mind, rather than knowing about the pictures floating around on fans social media accounts of you and Callie.

"Oh, look at his face." Maren said as she patted your cheek. "He's blushing!"

"Oohhh have I struck an exclusive?!" The reporter asked smiling.

"Um no, just know that I'm very happy at the moment the way things are." You replied trying to keep your answer as vague as possible. 7 years of media training helps with that.

"Well, good luck and all the best for whatever is happening. And also for your tour that I know you're in the middle of."

You were grateful that the reporter left it there. It was good to remember that not everyone wanted to know about who you were dating. Also, to not press you when they could see you weren't interested in discussing it further. Not every reporter was so desperate for an exclusive that they had to make the artist feel uncomfortable to get the information they craved.

You thanked the reporter and answered a few questions about Maren joining you next year before moving onto the next interview. No one else asked you about your personal life but there were lots of questions about your song for that evening.

The whole evening was a complete success. The performance went well, the other artists performing were amazing and you got to network with some executives you hoped to work with in the future. It was then that you realised how much you would've preferred to have had Callie by your side. You had never ever wanted to walk the red carpet with anyone before, but with Callie things were already different from anything you had ever experienced. You would have to see how the next few months went and if the opportunity arose, then you would definitely want her by your side.

You arrived in Nashville at dinner time after a 250 mile drive from Atlanta where last night's show had been. Getting everyone checked in for the next few nights was taking its time, and you were desperate to be alone with Callie.

"Niall, are you ok?" She asked, sensing that something was up.

"Just wish they'd hurry up." You whispered back to her. "Just want to get a shower and some dinner so we can be alone."

"I know baby." She whispered, so no one could hear. "I can't wait to be alone with you too."

Oh why did she have to say that?

You had spent the whole journey thinking about what you wanted to do to her. You had never felt more desperate for someone before. It was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

She turned back to Sam who was handing out everyone's keys after taking a note of them all. With the key in her hand you grabbed the bags, made idle chit chat with everyone before scurrying off to the lift.

Callie opened the room door and made her way inside, pausing to place her phone and bag on the desk. Dropping the suitcases by the entrance you double locked the doors and made your way over to her.

"So what do you want to...." She asked before you covered her mouth with yours.

A few seconds of shock and she melted into your arms. You'd kissed her like this over the last two weeks, but you had always been worried of someone interrupting you. Someone just walking into your dressing room while you were mid kiss. She tangled her fingers into your hair, pulling you closer to her.

You kissed her fast and hard, never breaking the moment even as you walked backwards to the sofa. Your mouths finally parted as you sat down, both of you taking a large breath before she settled herself on your lap, her legs straddling yours. She lifted her top off over her head as you leaned forward giving yourself some space to do the same.

"God I need you so much." You managed to mumble out.

She moved backwards, her knees resting on the floor and began opening the zipper of your jeans. You lifted your bum as she eased them down your legs, pausing to eye up the very prominent erection in your boxers. She slipped off your boots and socks, as you sat there panting with anticipation.

When she stood up to take her converse and jeans off, you couldn't help but stare up at her in awe. You could tell in that moment that she was as desperate for you as you were for her. Palming yourself over your boxers as she slipped off her underwear, she looked fucking phenomenal. A white lace bra and knickers, a new set you didn't recognise was tossed to the floor. You didn't hesitate then to pull down your boxers, your cock springing out. The tip bright red, pre cum already glistening there.

You reached for her then, pulling her back to straddle your legs. Running your fingers across her centre you could feel how much the last five minutes had effected her. She was dripping and you couldn't help but bring your fingers to your mouth and suck them. The blush that ran up her cheeks at your actions was sweet, but you knew she was anything but innocent. Especially when she took hold of your cock and pumped it a few times before sliding down into it. She sank down deep straight away and you threw your head back against the cushion of the sofa, breathing out a sigh.

She felt amazing, warm and tight. Staying still for just a few seconds before she started grinding against you, then lifting up and slamming back down on you. You were a complete withering and groaning mess at this point and you'd only just begun. Her fingers slid around your neck and found the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"This what you needed Niall?" She asked.

"Yessss......." You managed to whisper.

When you opened your eyes she had a smirk on her face. She knew she had complete power over you at this point. With your feet flat on the floor you managed to push your hips up as she continued to bounce up and down on you. That got her you thought, as a low moan rolled off her tongue.

She continued to ride you, her boobs bouncing up and down in your face. Leaning forward you took one of her nipples in your mouth as she stroke her hands through your hair. The feeling low in your stomach told you that you were close already, but you were desperate to make sure she got off to. You let her nipple slip from your mouth as you looked up at her.

"Baby I'm so close, you gotta slow down." You panted.

"I don't want to. I want you to cum.......hard."

Your hands tightened on her hips as you felt her lean back. Her hand slowly moving down towards where your bodies met, her fingers sliding across her clit. You had never watched a girl do this before, you had always been the one to touch them in that way during sex. Looking down, you watched how she put pressure where she needed it most as she continued grinding down on your cock.

She was panting as she came, a low whisper of your name as she rode it out. Clenching herself around your cock was enough for you to tumble over the edge with her. You held her body against you and stilled as you came inside her. She fell forward then, her head landing in the crook of your neck. Running your fingers up and down her back you felt the goosebumps appear like they always did as her body temperature got back to normal.

Placing kisses on her cheek and jaw as she snuggled into you. When you felt yourself soften inside her, you helped her get up, steadying her wobbly legs. Guiding her towards the bathroom, you turned on the shower before telling her to hop in while you got the toiletries from your suitcase. You got what you needed a few minutes later and joined her in the warmth of the shower.

"Fuck, I love you so much." You said as you wrapped your arms around her as the water covered you both.

"I love you too Niall, more than you can ever imagine."

You headed to Gruhn Guitars the next day with Callie, Adam, Tara, Mark, Conor, John, Gerry and Jake. There are a couple of guitar shops in Nashville that you liked to visit, and this was one of them. You hadn't had a chance to visit it earlier in the year when you'd been in America for interviews and events. 

Callie's eyes lit up when she walked in. You broke off into small groups, you of course followed Callie, Mark keeping a look out by the door for a bit. He liked to wait to see if you been seen coming into somewhere.

The store had a couple of customers, George the owner wasn't around but you spotted Rob the Sales Manager who you had met before. He approached you and shook your hand, greeting you warmly. You introduced him to Callie, telling him that she and Adam were guitar technicians on your latest tour.

He offered to give you a tour of the store and chatted enthusiastically with Callie who hadn't stopped smiling since she arrived.

"This is the best guitar store I've ever been in." She whispered to you.

She stood captivated by one guitar in particular, a Gibson Johnny Smith 1978 acoustic. Rob took it from the display and passed it to Callie, she looked nervous to take it, probably because it was priced at $7,500. When she had first started working for you, she knew some of the guitars you had in your collection were vintage and expensive. She soon got over the nervousness and would happily assist you with tuning them. Rob told her all about the guitar and some to her like it, this was like heaven for a guitar technician. She began taking photos of a couple of them, to show her Dad she had told you and Rob.

Rob left you to browse for a bit and you met up with the others. Mark had joined you to and offered to take a group photo in front of a display of Gibson vintage guitars. Everyone huddled up together, you in between Gerry and Callie. This would be one to post later and see the reaction of fans.

As much as you didn't want to go public with Callie officially. You thought that by showing Callie in some of your posts, it might get the fans seeing her in your life.

And you always wanted her in your life.

Part Eighteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183788555463/you-me-part-eighteen

Tag list

@niallersdirtylaundry

@youvegotyourvictory

@fireawayniall

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@roseytattoo

[m1nkyun]

‘we must love’ mv theory

hi welcome to my wild theory :^) i never really wrote anything like this down before BUT this storyline was too good to not attempt to figure out and ive been thinking about this since the mv teaser dropped. so here’s what i think what’s going on in the mv. just a lil disclaimer ig,  that all of this is just what im picking up from the music videos, so just take this theory into consideration not as fact lol. plz humor me bc i’ve been writing this for almost 5 hours and im gonna lose it. so plz join me in this wild adventure thru different timelines and universes that also tie into ‘on/off’ and ‘complete’ bc onf’s concept is wild :^)

to connect everything with ‘we must love’ we gotta recap on the first two music videos real quick. so buckle up kids lets GO. im basing this off my vague remembering off of the explanation for the ‘on/off’ mv, i can’t remember where exactly they explained it but if i’m remembering right. they’re all androids and laun is their energy provider. i think the android part may have been apart of my own theory when on/off first came out (reason being is their barcodes) but laun is 100% the one who provides the energy or something like that. lol. something to note here is hyojin, e-tion, and j-us are mostly a trio together and really the only ones you get to see in uniforms together in the mv. (other than the scene where laun passes out and everyone’s like o dam. ) they are the three to look into laun’s room. and there’s the fact that they were just chilling in his room learning about the globe and stuff. notable since they’re the most prominent ones in the great search for laun 2k19. just food for thought 🤔

here’s showing when laun put in too much energy in this machine and ended up passing out.

putting “my name is” and a picture of himself, this may be because he had some sort of memory loss as a result from the pass out. he has this as a reminder for himself.

and this very interesting cinema board may be something to look at here, maybe predicting the future to come in this universe lmao.

(a side note, in the ‘on/off’ mv, laun’s barcode is on the back his neck but in ‘we must love’, its on the side of his neck. whether or not this is important or a continuity error idk lol. in general im just gonna ignore the barcode rule bc i didnt see it on anyone else in we must love so IDK. ive actually only remember seeing it on hyojin and laun i think. the barcodes are so confusing idk what to to with them :^( ) before i continue to the next mv, i just want to point out the MAJOR object that truly connects everything together, this funky lil asteroid:

this bad boi is a lil demon in disguise. Complete: the connections to ‘on/off’ are very minimal to a sense of you can just excuse them as “references” rather than any clues as it to being set in another universe. but that’s honestly exactly what it is. it was more than just cute lil callbacks to their first music video. this is legit just same boys, same timeline, different universe. example one:

the bad boi returns. mk looking up at this asteroid is very important. you’ll see later or you already know why probably lmao. two: the machine laun’s messing with may be the energy source machine that’s used in this universe. it does have a little card slot in it.

and then THIS SCENE:

asteroids literally raining down. very similar to the opening scene in ‘we must love’ this may be the start of what’s happening as a result of the ‘on/off’ / ‘we must love’ universe.

AND NOW THE ‘WE MUST LOVE’ once again, starting off the mv is mk looking at the asteroids raining down like, a doomsday type of feel rather than a cute shooting star kinda feel as the previous ones. it’s not even the same as when j-us in ‘complete’ was surrounded by asteroids because this time there’s literally ember falling around the era. it’s definitely more danger feel than in ‘complete’. i think the reason the world is quickly heading to danger is because of laun leaving the facility. he’s not just the energy to them, but to the whole world? and since he’s gone, everything’s s starting to get out of control.

laun wakes up in a forest, looking completely lost unaware where he is.

and then here, he’s having flashbacks to two scenes that happen later in the music video. where they try to stop him from leaving. and when hyojin confronts him. due to the glitchiness of the memories, i’m believing that the memories are leaving him and he’s going through memory loss again like in ‘on/off’.

j-us over here in laun’s room trying to locate his whereabouts. in the address you can see it says “universe 01” at the bottom. basically confirmed that there is multiple universes and they’re at least 99 of them. wow good luck finding him now.

yuto’s clock being 3:14 is the same length as the music video. at first i thought it might have been a timer for how long everyone had in the universes they were sent to to find laun but then i realized they were most likely there for more than that amount of time so idek lol. BUT i thought’d i’d keep this part in here as just something to think about ig.

this is where it gets…. sad. laun’s looking out of the window which we now know can change screens. assuming that it’s actually a window to the other universes, laun looks out admiring the nature and such.

the way he looks out the window is so longing, like he wants to experience it himself. other than when he needs to be out, he’s always trapped in this room. even in “on/off” all of his solo scenes were him cooped up in his room. the only time he was actually out of his room and not in uniform was him sadly holding a balloon. this kid has discovered the beauty of nature and really wants to venture out to see it himself.

im not sure if it’s suppose to be the same room but there are a lot of similarities to the both of them. im thinking maybe due to being on a different set, they did what they could to resemble laun’s original room? because a big thing here is laun’s window, which is basically his freedom. which from the outside it’s just a window looking in, but what if it’s a two way window? on laun side it has the capability to show different universes, other side looking in his room to check on him.

right after j-us finds laun’s location, seemingly figuring out this whole ordeal, since he was also reading some sort of message. he gets caught. with the sign being said “Danger: Time Travel Operate”, it’s possible that time travel is illegal within the facility, probably specifically to the students, because of how dangerous it is.

my idea as to why this scene is happening is because laun’s presence lead hyojin to here. except laun isn’t here exactly. he was there but in another universe. and the fade outs are showing that. they’re always so close, yet so far.

then there’s this flashback to when everyone frantically trying to stop laun from time traveling, they know how dangerous time traveling is and they’re trying to save him

his arm is out as if he’s trying to tell them to stay back (not in a mean way of course, but in a “plz let me do this” way). but in a later scene he looks even more worried, maybe last second regretting this decision. he’s probably aware the dangers of time traveling, he’s ready to risk it all in the name of nature, but i dont think he’s fully aware how vital it is for he himself to stay in that place.

e-tion finally comes across laun, the real laun. but before he can call out to him, e-tion disappears. i have two theories to this. 1. continuing on from like the laun & hyojin scene from before. they’re in the same place, but different universes. but imo that wouldnt really make sense because e-tion clearly sees laun. in hyojin and laun’s scene, i think it’s clear that neither of them saw each other since hyojin just walked off. 2. e-tion’s time travel watch is on a timer. and right before he can catch laun’s attention, the watch sends him back to his own universe. :( which i think is more accurate. which means that the fade outs have multiple purposes.

there he is

and there he go

and here’s to what i dub is the absolute saddest part of this entire music video (other than laun crying )’: ) yuto stayed behind in the facility in their classroom. its showing everyone having fun, wyatt looking up into the sky :^),  probably the daily antics of their classroom breaks. but then its everyone fading out to an empty room. it’s showing what used to be. when they were all together. yuto is reminiscing on the past. he misses his friends and my heart HURTS.

and with the final scene. hyojin finally catching up to laun. this scene is kinda complicated for many reasons. laun looks right at hyojin but turns around and hyojin disappears. 1. the same theory of different universes. laun may have felt hyojin’s presence and turned around to check to see if anyone was behind him, but left after seeing no one was there. which will be wild bc then laun woulda had a stand off - stare off with the air if that was the case.

2.he clearly saw hyojin, but he just had no idea who he was due to the memory loss. and being the nice boy laun is, he’d just smiled at him and went on his way. making hyojin miss his last chance of catching laun due to the timer that sent him back to his universe. also remember, this scene was involved in laun’s memory wipe in the beginning of the mv. and this is the only scene that’s in black and white. was it a flash back in this scene, or a flash forward from laun when he was in the woods?

some after thought questions i have:

why did hyojin have to use an emergency button to time travel, but e-tion had a watch similar to laun. and how did mk and wyatt get to where they were as well. i would make the suggestion that mk is actually in the ‘complete’ universe due to the asteroid storm, but then there’s this scene. behind him are screens showing the different universes everyone’s in. (including the one he was in).  maybe he went to the ‘complete’ universe after this scene, but how did he get there. 🤔

that being said i have no idea about wyatt’s part. him with the motorcycle, and then running through the city. yeah he’s probably looking for laun too, but im kinda sad that there wasn’t more to it like everyone else :( i just dont know. and to tie it all together, the lyrics of the song are directly about all of this. “losing memories” “past, future, a different world”. it a song about a familiar feeling with someone as if you knew them in the past, future, a whole different universe, like you were bonded by time. this music video doesnt just tie that in on its own, but also with ‘on/off’ and ‘complete’. i just find it completely genius the way they went about it and im really curious if this concept will continue and i really hope it does because there’s so many unanswered questions. is laun gonna be ok, will they bring him back safely, is the world gonna be ok, most importantly, where’s wyatt. the only thing i haven’t brought up is the astronaut lady in ‘on/off’ because i have no idea where’d she fit into the other mvs. but she is so valid. so basically, tl;dr, laun wanted to universe travel to all the beautiful places he’s seen through his alternate universe looking window to temporally escape from the confines of his room where he always has to stay cooped up in, as seen in the ‘on/off’ mv. he ended up losing his memory from doing so since he’s pretty prone to memory lost, causing mostly everyone to go out looking for him and failing at the last moments. and now the world is in peril because laun’s basically the earth’s control center but he’s lost and not in the facility where he can keep things balanced. tl-tl;dr: laun just wanted to see the real world but then it turned into where’s waldo: laun edition, except if we cant find laun fast the whole universe is going to die.

i hope u enjoyed my lil theory, plz dont be afraid to share your theories with me or let me know if i missed anything important, or messed up anything in this theory. im all open to discuss this amazing cinematic masterpiece that our lord and saviors onf is providing us with!!

[rkdoyoung]

✧ ✧ ✧  ━━━━━━━  & 헤어질 준비가 안됐어, WAIT A MINUTE                                               기다림은 너무 길은데 HAS NO LIMIT   —                                 TELL ME WHAT IS LOVE by D.O & YOO YOUNG JIN

note ! hover over song title for timestamp; click for outfit

he’s rooted in place after hearing his name, mind spinning, dizzying, making everything seem so surreal. he doesn’t even know how to react, nothing but a vague smile on his lips and the slow clapping of hands, and though he can’t see himself, he know he’s got an unmistakable look of disbelief on his face, but he can’t manage to shake it. there’s so much talent in the room, even from the fifty who have been eliminated, that he can’t believe he’s made it through.

but then it hits him. he’s heard his own name, hears hyojin’s, has heard every single name announced that’s moving on to the next stage, but the one name he wishes he’s heard, even above his own, is kim seungmin. eyes immediately dart to his side, only to find that seungmin has already made his way out. mindlessly, jooyoung follows after his little brother, guilt and panic and empathy all flow through his veins in a heavy concoction, clouding his mind as he reaches out and grabs his brother by the arms to stop him.

tears, he expected, perhaps anger, a deep frown, something, but what he gets is an inexplicably blank expression. jooyoung doesn’t know what to do. he’s never known what to do, and perhaps that’s one of his greatest flaws, and definitely one of his greatest regrets. he’s never known what to do with seungmin, how to fix this gap that’s only been growing over the years, how to make up for all the time he’d thrown out the window when he was living overseas and away from his family. he doesn’t know.

so he does what comes to mind first. he draws his brother into a hug, only holding onto him tighter when the younger struggles against him, and the crying starts and all jooyoung can do is continue to hold him in his arms and wait. wait as seungmin sobs and cries and lets out all his frustrations and anger and disappointment. there’s nothing he can say to help the situation at this very moment, so he remains silent, hoping he’s helping, even if just a little bit.

after it seems seungmin has calmed down a bit, jooyoung goes to find hyojin, and the three of them get into the car. it’s a quiet ride, and seungmin is still wordless even as he gets out of the car and into his apartment. to see his own little brother like that, to be so clueless as to how to help, how to make it easier or better, it breaks his heart.

if there were some way he could trade places right now, to give up his spot so that seungmin could move on, he would. he would give it up in a heartbeat.

but as cruel as it sounds, the show must go on, and he has a lot of work to do. he has to keep going, try even harder, make it as far as he can because seungmin couldn’t, because they had denied his little brother the opportunity he deserved, and yet here he was, so against living the idol lifestyle he wasn’t even sure if he’d take a contract. no one could ever be sure that if he hadn’t auditioned at all, it would mean seungmin would have gotten in, but it doesn’t matter. now he has has to continue on. he has to make it count.

he dedicates a whole night after work to going through his music library, letting it play on shuffle, writing down potential songs to sing for the next episode. he’s gone through several sheets of paper filled with lines and lines of songs, and he’s begun to think he’d have to spend another night doing just this, but then that song begins to play. a smile slowly curves on his lips and his body begins to sway to the smooth r&b tempo. it’s one hundred percent his style, but still palatable for the general public, and is a song that would be able to showcase his vocal talents more than the previous song’s mashup.

the rest of the week he spends practicing, using every chance he has to sing: at work, he’s working his vocal cords between clients and during meal breaks, at home, he’s belting during chores, cooking, and he swears he’s even begun singing in his sleep. for the first time in his life, he’s even started practicing in front of a mirror, watching his expressions, making sure he’s giving off exactly the impression he wishes.

the day before the recording he spends trying to relax, hoping it’ll help him with his nerves for the actual day of the episode filming. he calls off of work and sleeps in for most of the morning, then spends lunch at a dog cafe for a couple of hours before heading home to play some video games. before bed, he has a cup of herbal tea and even puts on a face mask, something he hadn’t done in months due to pure laziness about skin care.

the day of the recording, he manages to remain calm on the drive there, but as soon as he’s standing outside of the building, he’s hit with a wave of memories that brings back every nervous emotion he’d experienced on the first broadcast filming. the amount of contestants left is only half of what it had been, making the space seem bigger and him feel smaller.

the most notable difference, though, is that his little brother is still nowhere to be found. this ignites a newfound sense of invigoration within him, reminds him that he has someone to perform for, even if seungmin won’t be watching. with a sharp inhale, he walks inside and takes an empty seat.

while waiting for the show to begin, he sees a shadow come over him, and he stares upward to see none other than choi minho, the man whose man tiddiez he’d been blabbering about in the interviews last week (thank god they hadn’t aired any of that). immediately, an almost nervous smile blooms on his face as he bows in greeting.

“hey, do you have ig?”

the question posed to him throws him off for a split second, because it’s not what he expects at all. after a short recovery, he nods his head. “yeah, @iankim,” he responds. it’s not long until his phone chimes, and he fishes it out of pocket to see not only a friend request, but a dm notification as well.

can i slide into that seat next to you like i slid into ur dms

he bursts out into laughter at the message, nodding his head in confirmation as he sweeps his hand over the empty seat next to him. “it’s all yours, man,” he says rather than types back. he takes the next few moments to go through the man’s instagram before casually leaning over with a cheeky grin to say, “anyone ever tell you that you’re a thirst trap?”

he’s glad for the distraction that minho’s presence provides as they go through each other’s instagrams and make fun of each other’s posts because time goes by quickly, and before he knows it, the time for the performances to start has begun. he tries his best to keep his energy at a steady medium, but the closer it gets to his turn to perform, the more nervous he gets. he’s done auditions before, but it’s never been this bad, fists wound up tight in an effort to keep himself from falling apart.

hyojin goes up just before he does, and he gives just as much gusto cheering for his cousin as he did last week, perhaps even more now that he has one last person to cheer for and embarrass. he’s thankful that he has someone he knows going before him; it gives him a sense of home, as if they’re both just hanging out at a family gathering, singing without any of the pressure, enjoying themselves.

when it finally comes his turn to perform, he takes a deep breath and looks to his left side to see mason sitting there. for some reason, his fellow contestant’s presence helps calm him even more, the thought of their exchanges earlier pulling an amused smile onto his face. just as he’s about to make his way on stage, his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he has half a mind to ignore it. there’s something tugging at his heartstrings, though, and he chooses to pull it out as he’s walking toward the stage. what he sees fills him with a renewed strength and confidence, and a wide grin blooms on his face as he texts his little brother back.

the first two times, he’d used his guitar as a crutch, using it for comfort and as a sort of buffer in case they decided his voice alone wasn’t good enough, but this time, he’s left both his instruments at home, and he hopes his decision to do so won’t come around to bite him in the ass. this time, it’s just him, the audience, the microphone, and his voice, and he hopes it’s enough.

“hey, what’s up? it’s me, ya boi. kim jooyoung.” he introduces himself again, apparently never tiring of making references to videos or movies he’s scene that may or may not go over the judges’ heads. “i intend to show a different side of me today. i hope you like this side, too.”

with a smile, he settles into place, and the music begins. the intro is filled with adlibs by the original singers, and he takes liberties with the section, deciding to completely forego the original and go with his own adlibs and vocal runs, putting his own flare and feeling into it, showcasing what he thinks is the best of his abilities while still keeping up with the natural tempo and feel of the song.

나를 사랑하지 않는 너를 잊은 채 as i forgot about you who doesn’t love me 하고 싶었던 모든걸 하고 살아도 i live doing everything that i wanted to do 머릿속에 넌 절대 지워지지가 않아 i can’t ever erase you from my head 도대체 why?

he’s never quite experienced the exact feelings the lyrics portray in the song, but he’s definitely felt that deep emotional rut before, of being unable to forget, of being haunted by memories he’d no longer be able to experience. he channels that instead, using his tumultuous ups and downs with his search for fame and fortune as the emotional basis for his performance. after all, that feeling of hitting rock bottom is the same for everyone, no matter the source.

대답 없는 널 자꾸 불러도 i keep calling for you but you’re answerless 메아리만 돌아와… and only echoes keep coming back to me…

he immerses himself in this universe, of being left in the dark by someone or something that he loves, the loneliness, the denial, the hatred and anger. his eyes close as he sings, his hands coming up to grasp at the microphone, seeming to caress it as he sings into it. his eyes open, gazing directly into the camera as he cups the microphone in one hand as the other goes down to grasp at the actual stand, holding onto it tightly as if he would never let go. it’s a stand in for what he sings and yearns for in the song, using the microphone as a prop to further engage the audience and himself.

내 눈을 보며 말했던 like you told me while gazing into my eyes 두 글자가 낙인처럼 아파 와 the two letters hurt like humiliation 내 맘이 그걸 알게 됐는데 my heart finally knows oh, tell me, what is love? tell me, what is love?

the chorus serves as a natural climax to his performance, emotions escalating as the push behind the lyrics does, his body swaying naturally to the rhythm. his inexperience with love helps here as he asks the question of what love is because he is certainly unsure, in all aspects, of what love is. 

tell me what is love

as the song comes to a close, he belts out one last adlib, holding the final note and letting it fall in an effortless decrescendo just as the music does. once both the music and the sound of his voice have completely disappeared, he allows his hands to slide off the microphone and drop to his sides, still in character, dejected and alone.

he stands there for a few moments, basking in it all, absorbing the moment to remember it forever, not knowing if this will be his final performance on this stage or not.

he may not know what he’d do if given the opportunity to sign with a company or not, but he’s certain of one thing: he doesn’t want this to end, and perhaps that’s a sign. perhaps it doesn’t matter how or with whom he signs.

perhaps, in the end, he’s happy as long as he’s performing. any stage is enough.

[bredsticon-blog]

title: the alternative

part: one (saint or sinner)

desc: you have died. you weren't an extraordinary person when you were alive--you made a few little sins and a few little good deeds, but it's not enough to land you in heaven nor hell. so the reaper gives you two choices: be in limbo forever, or serve equal years in heaven and hell. well, you choose the latter...

tags: angel!nick & demon!zion love triangle (or not? wink), heaven and hell au (yes ik purgatory exists but it has different purposes for this series), ooc (on purpose, i swear), sfw (as in, no smut), gore, violence (i mean, you're in hell...), cussing, murder, mentions of: rape, abuse, addiction (alcohol, LSD, heroin, uhh everything else), mental issues (depression, suicide), and death in general. gender/sex neutral reader (as always) and humor to lighten the mood

word count: 2k

notes: it isn't nearly as scary as the tags make it seem, i promise. i spent a l o n g time on the promo art for this (which imma post LATER) so uhh please read :'( haha yes i WILL finish writing the fma!austin fic and make the part 2 for ¡quake! & ~the wave~ but my ass is still collecting gifs and cleaning up plot holes sksksk and on the 2.76% chance the boys read this: hi follow me im @/bredsticon on ig, i make quality content and be more active on tumblr please we love you

You don't remember dying.

You're dead, and you don't remember dying.

Perhaps, in another life, you once thought that death accompanied a special feeling: life flashing before your eyes, lights out, everything over before your last breath escapes your lungs. But this is... this is slow. So slow. You're still on earth. Floating.. somewhere. Nowhere else. You see the world, all of it. Stars twinkle in the mist. The world around you is gray and dark. You watch your home fall apart. Every crack and shake is in full detail, and, dimly, you watch the sprouting of vines and weeds in its place. The weeds brush heads as they cluster your old house, your old neighborhood, your old country, your old everything.

You're old.

Breathless doesn't begin to describe it. You don't have lungs. You don't have... you don't. You just don't. You are nowhere. You are nothing. You don't exist.

Someone waves inside of you.

What the—

"Hello, Soul One-Hundred Thirty-Three Billion, Seventy-Five Million and Sixty-Five. You're late."

An NYC accent? You're from—

"Now that's a mouthful. I'll just call you Rosebud. See, you were supposed to cross over..." A watch ticks inside your... your form? You? "...millennia ago. Five millennia, in fact."

The voice throws a powder on you. Something blooms inside you, and you fall to the ground.

You gasp—holy shit, you can gasp. You move your head around. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, you have muscles, you have form, you can move. You exist.

The voice has a form, too. He looks like you: human. Flaming blue hair, khaki-colored skin with reddish-pink polka dots and marks. He wears modern clothes: a bright yellow vest and green pants. And glowing. He's like a painting. Human, kinda.

You gape at him. This doesn't exist. This can't exist. You thought you'd be nothing forever. But now you're something and that's something and the world around you is still murky but it's something and oh my God. Oh my fucking God. What happened to you? What happened to your home? Why aren't you dead?

The form smiles at you. "Be careful with mentioning the Master Creator so much. They're listening, y'know. They can tell when you're talking about Them."

He offers you a hand. Shaking, you take it. You wobble so hard you grab his shoulder, and he pats your wrist.

"Relax, Rosebud, we're gonna go up now. Take my hands." Gently, he takes your hand off his shoulder and interlocks your fingers together. You close your eyes as he pulls you close.

Once you open them, you're no longer on Earth.

You're in an office.

Vaguely relaxing piano music plays in the background. The walls gleam "eggshell white" (whatever that means), and copy-and-paste potted plants commiserate in corners, on shelves, and on top of desks. Rows and rows of cubicles line up in front of you, complete with ancient computers, loud clicking, and early morning groans of "I need more coffee, for fu- fun's sake!" A vending machine and a water cooler stand behind you, with banged-up tables interspersed between those.

Someone rises out of a cubicle. His skin is pale, but his hair is dark. "Reaper Honoret Jr.! Is that—oh my goodness, is that the stray? You did it! It took a few millennia, but you did it!"

Honoret Jr. grimaces. "My bad, Dad. The soul blended in so well, it took me a while... my readings showed complete neutrality. It's like there's no one there." The reaper looked back at you. "I only caught a flicker. Right now, I can't—"

His dad chuckles. "Not Dad. It's Reaper Honoret Sr. to you." He winks. "I'm kidding, y'know how they get around here."

He comes forward and wraps his arms around the boy, then unlatches. Without Honoret Jr's support, you fall to the ground, so you watch as he holds his son's shoulders. "Your bad? What do you mean? I'm proud of you. So, so proud. You're the only one who could even—actually, wait."

He turns to face the cubicles. "Reapers of Thanatos & Co., guess who just caught the stray!"

The clicking stops.

Someone coughs. "You're joking, right?"

"Absolutely not. In fact, it's behind me, right now."

Chairs scoot on scratchy carpet as the reapers of Thanatos & Co. nearly jump out of their cubicles to see you. Forty reapers dressed in some manner of business attire speed walk in your direction. One pushes Honoret Jr. out of the way—his dad has to catch him before he falls on his face.

When they see you, they stop. They start staring at the air around you. They sniff like blood hounds.

After a pause, a reaper with large eyebrows turns to another, eyes wide. "I think... I can't... I literally..."

The other nods. "Same here. Reaper Honoret Sr. isn't lying."

The crowd murmurs in agreement.

A reaper with short pink hair raises his hand. When no one calls on him, he puts it down and mutters something about being new. "Wait, if Reaper Honoret Sr. found the stray, shouldn't we tell the Grand Reaper about it first?"

Once more, the crowd murmurs in agreement.

The eyebrow reaper stares at you—no, not at you. Into you. Like you're not even there. "Before that, we need to know who found it. Reaper Honoret Sr., did you find it? We need someone to congratulate."

He grins. "Nope! My son did." He shook his boy's shoulders.

The reaper raises a brow, then gives the blue-haired reaper a look. "Oh. Well, uhm, congratulations."

The crowd weakly claps. Good job... mhm... congratulations, Junior... and then they disperse back into their leather spin chairs.

Honoret Jr. turns to you and makes a face. "Sorry about that. Office drama. Can't escape it, even in this world."

He doesn't look like a reaper to you. No black cloak, no creepy aura, no skeleton fingers. Kind, colorful, couldn't be a reaper. Nope. Impossible. None of this is.

"You're not believing a lot of things, I know. The first few days are the hardest." He gifts you with another smile. "You'll get there, I promise. I'm here to help.

"Name's Edwin, by the way. You've been calling me Honoret Jr. and that just gives me middle school flashbacks. No thanks."

You can't even make a proper facial expression to react to that. You can't formulate words—or even walk without Edwin holding your hand. He's reading your thoughts, at least. You're basically a vegetable.

He shrugs. "Give it a few hours, Rosebud. The vegetable'll wear off. Your body's just adjusting to this plane. No shame."

You can't speak, so you just think of the word: thanks. My name is—

"Oh, I know what your name is. I've been searching for you for five millennia. I'd be a horrible reaper if I didn't know."

He extends a hand. "Speaking of vegetable and horrible reaper, I bet you're hungry. You're also naked. Let's fix that."

-

Reapers need to eat, surprisingly. Edwin leads you through a myriad of hallways with the exact same paintings and potted plants (this is disgustingly easy to get lost in, you think. Edwin agrees) until you reach the break room. It takes you an hour.

No one's in there except you two. Edwin gave you some of his clothes (kept in another room), so you're wearing a red fit with a black vest and a lime green beanie. He tried to offer his matching ski mask, but you managed to mentally shout "No!" before he put it away. You don't mind wearing his stuff, but you wonder what that could imply. Do reapers...? Actually, you don't wanna think about that.

The break room curves up into a sparkling, plastic chandelier. The rest of the room accommodates a fridge plastered in posters, a microwave, and a dirty coffee maker paired with beige countertops. A pile of paper plates and utensils decorates the left countertop, while a sink occupies the right end. Island tables take up the rest of the center, leaving room for vending machines in the back.

Edwin scrunches his nose. "Who's bummy ass forgot to wash the coffee pot? Ew." He examines it, then starts washing the dishes.

He looks back at you. "You can go raid the fridge. Just don't touch the lunch boxes or uh—bento boxes, I think. Those are Reaper Porter's, and he will get very mad if you touch his bento. I did that once, so he threw a fork at me then said I messed with his feng shui."

Edwin mutters something about unseasoned chicken as he continues scrubbing coffee stains.

You stand up. Your walk is wobbly at best, and you feel like a pile of jello—you're weak in the knees, like jello. But you're getting there. Its better than before. At some point in your hour-long journey to the break room, poor Edwin had to carry you. You felt bad, but at least he's strong. Maybe it's a reaper thing.

You stumble to the fridge. Posters and dates and schedules cover the surface, but you brush past them to find what truly matters: the food.

Reaper office food tastes just as bland as human office food. How sad.

You find that your body works just like it used to. You're hungry, you can feel pain, and you're starting to move. It's like you never died. And now you're in a huge office full of slightly-glowy people who call themselves Reapers and also can't sense you, which is a concept you still don't understand. Or maybe you didn't die? Maybe someone stirred some LSD in your drink? And this is all... a major... acid... trip...

You blink, then pinch yourself. Nope. You're 'swell.

Edwin pulls out a chair. "Now that we're done with the basics, Rosebud, we need to get you registered. You're a bit of a weird case, but you're not too too special. Just uncommon."

He pauses. "Well, actually, you might be a little more special than that. Just a tad."

You give him a look. Something builds in your throat.

"What the fuck?"

He giggles. "Those are your first words on this plane? I—"

"No, seriously. What. The. Fuck." You sound like a cheese grater but you don't care. "I literally have no idea what's going on. I died, I think, then I watched mankind die too as the Earth turned into dandelions, then you went inside of me and threw some pixie dust to make me come back again, suddenly I'm in a 90s sitcom office and I'm naked which literally no one told me about until everyone else saw me as bare as the day I was born and—"

Edwin pats your hand. "All right, all right, let it out, let it out. I'll explain everything. It's just really long." He rubs the back of his neck. "And we're kinda on a time crunch here."

"A time crunch. When it took us an hour just to get a snack."

"Yes, a time crunch. We have about two more hours to get you registered before you become tied to this plane. Then you'll have to become a reaper, like me, and you don't wanna become a reaper." He bites deeply into his peanut butter and banana sandwich. "Shit's hard."

"I can't even—"

"Mhm." He says through a mouthful of peanut butter. "I'm rellay sorreh you're goineh frough thif. I geh how you feel. Eferyone dehs."

He swallows. "We all started out alive. No one's been here since the beginning. Except for some of the seraphim, I guess. But the rest of us? We just humans the Master Creator decided to gift. You're not alone in this. I went through the same bullshit as you. I get it."

You bow your head down. Your thoughts are too jumbled to feel actual anger. "Thanks, Edwin."

"You honestly deserve better, but no problem." He stands up and wipes his hands on a napkin. "Imma clean up after myself, so you can get a head start. We do only have two hours." He yanks you out of the chair. Still chewing, you watch as Edwin shoves you out the break room.

"Wait—hold up—wh—I don't know where I'm supposed to—"

He grins. "You will! Your senses will guide you."

"What— more vague shi—" and the door slams.

[gaylotusthatexists]

Deceit with Memory Loss?

ghosts of the past

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: platonic moceit, platonic loceit 

prompt: memory loss

trigger warnings: all the sides are morally grey ig, remus is mentioned in the background but not by name, this one doesn’t go super heavy but if i need to tag anything let me know 

word count: 2996

a/n: this is written for the @badthingshappenbingo​! actually had a lot of fun with this :) thank you for the request, and i hope y’all enjoy

ao3

Janus stared at the wall, trying to remember, trying to conjure up that face in his mind again. It was getting harder and harder to remember the times that had past, to remember all the good things that he used to do with... with them. And to remember all the bad things, the things he was sure had happened but didn't know when or how or why. Because if nothing bad had happened, he wouldn't be here right now, all alone in his own apartment, an apartment that he could have sworn he used to share with someone else.

He glanced out the window at the street below him, watching people pass by, unfamiliar faces in a scary and strange world. Some faces he could have sworn that he'd seen before, but... no, he couldn't have. He didn't know these people. He didn't really know anybody, anymore. He barely knew himself.

But it was a warm day outside today, he thought, considering the sunlight on his bedroom floor, seeping in through the window, open just enough to let some fresh air in. He stood up and repositioned himself in the centre of his room, now sitting on the floor, basking in the warm sunlight. He closed his eyes and, for a moment, he didn't care that he still couldn't remember those faces, those names, those voices that used to be so important to him.

He wasn't quite sure when the last time he went outside had been. He... He had left his room, he thought, to get food and wash and the like, but he didn't recall any trips anywhere. Thinking back, he remembered how he used to take trips to the park, to the coffee shop on... on that street, he couldn't remember the name, and to the library and the supermarket and to his... to his friends.

He had friends, right? Maybe that was who he was trying to remember. His friends. He hadn't seen them in a while, because something bad had happened, and maybe... maybe they didn't want to see him? Maybe that was why he was all alone here, in this apartment. He'd had a friend here as well before, so why not now?

Maybe he needed to go for a walk. He was certain that walks used to cheer him up, and besides, it was sunny today! He liked the sun. He liked it when the sun shone on his skin, warming him up. He especially liked the spring, when it was cool enough that he could stick to his dark aesthetic, but with enough sun that he could feel warmth from the sun. And... Huh, what month was it again?

He glanced at the calendar on his wall - the last date that had been crossed off was February 23rd, but that couldn't have been right. It hadn't been updated in a while. The calendar wouldn't help. And his phone...

Where even was his phone? He'd had a phone before, hadn't he? He glanced around his room, and spotted it underneath his desk. He scrambled over towards it and picked it up, frowning at the cracked screen before trying to turn it on. It... wouldn't turn on. Maybe it was out of battery. Or broken. The cracked screen seemed to suggest the latter. Well. That wouldn't be helpful, either.

Oh well. He stood up and left his room, stumbling into the bathroom and checking himself out in the mirror. Christ. He looked like a mess. His hair had grown out to his shoulders, his brown roots mixing in with the bleached ends. And his face seemed to be sunken in, thinner, paler. He reached his hand up to his cheek, running his finger over the scar stretching out from his eye to his mouth. Since when did he have a scar there? A part of him told him that it wasn't new, but...

Shaking that thought away, he gave himself a quick wash and tied back his hair - Jesus Christ, his hair was long enough to put in a bun now, how had this happened? Maybe it was time for a haircut. Although, part of him did like the new style, just a little bit. He plastered a smile over his face, an art that he'd practised before - as long as he looked happy, people wouldn't see just how crushed he was inside. Maybe he'd be able to fool himself, as well.

Leaving the bathroom, Janus made his way to the front door, putting on a black beanie and grabbing a backpack as he went. He wasn't entirely sure what was in the backpack, but he vaguely remembered carrying it around with him before, back when he used to go for walks and hang out with his friends, so it must have been important. He noticed his keys still sticking out the keyhole of the door, so at least he wouldn't have to look for them.

Before he knew it, he was out of the building and on the street, amongst all those mysterious yet vaguely familiar faces from before. His eyes darted around, trying to find somebody that he knew, anybody that he knew, but if he couldn't even remember the faces of his previously closest friends then he doubted he'd recognise anyone now. And anyway, that didn't matter to him. He was outside, and the sun was warm against his bare arms - he never really went out with bare arms before, but he wasn't wearing a jacket inside and hadn't thought to get changed, apparently - and that was all that mattered. He had to make the most of his sunlight, of his warmth, before he inevitably locked himself away again.

He wasn't sure where his feet were carrying him, but his body seemed to know the way to... somewhere. Glancing around at the city surrounding him, he couldn't quite figure out where he was, but this all felt like... home. His mind showed him flashes of what used to be, people around him, laughing with him, roaming the city together. And also flashes of heartbreak, of tears, of bad things that had happened on these very streets.

Not before long, he found himself in a park, sitting on a bench. He'd been here before. He could almost see his... his friend sitting besides him, that blue polo shirt and grey cardigan, a single pink highlight in their light brown hair, freckles all over their face, a pair of round glasses sat upon their nose. Yes - yes, that was his friend. He couldn't remember their name, but... they used to come to this park all the time, to hang out and take photos and feed the ducks and just talk.

A small smile crept onto Janus' face - a real smile, this time, not the manufactured smile he wore as to not alarm other people. He wasn't entirely sure what other people there was in his life that he could alarm, but... well, maybe it was out of habit. Maybe he'd been on a downward spiral since well before that bad thing happened.

He looked out across the park, watching butterflies float past him and rest on the flower beds lining the paths. Another ghost manifested in front of him, another friend leaning over the flowers, and watching the butterflies with fascination in his eyes, his blue tie hanging around his neck. He imagined his friend pushing those square glasses up his nose and holding them in place as he eyes follow the butterfly, and then the friend would look up and grin at Janus, and at the other friend. Everything seemed perfect back then, but now Janus couldn't even remember his friends' names.

He stood up and continued his journey, heading out of the park and down the street again. He turned into a supermarket and walked down the isles, grabbing some food as he went - actually, he wasn't entirely sure when the last time he'd eaten was, and he imagined that his cupboards were getting bare. He used to come to the supermarket all the time, didn't he? With... With the twins. The twins in red and green, taking charge of the trolley, riding it around the store whilst Janus stood back and rolled his eyes. They were also his friends, weren't they?

He payed for his food - enough to last him a couple weeks, at the very least - with some money he'd found in the bottom of his backpack, before leaving the store, now with a shopping bag in his hand as well. He continued to walked down the streets and passed the library, half tempted to go inside but refraining himself from doing so. He saw another friend in the back of his mind, sitting on the wall outside the library - a black jacket with purple plaid patches, ripped jeans and black and white converse, that dark eyeshadow underneath his eyes that Janus was sure was just to cover up the actual bags under his eyes.

He took a deep breath and continued his journey, trying to push that memory down, trying to push all the memories down. The more he thought about his... his friends, the more afraid he felt, the more alone he felt. There was a reason that he was no longer with these friends, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to find out. They were probably better off without him. Maybe he was better off without them.

Janus found himself sitting in a coffee shop, at a table by the window, a caramel Frappuccino in front of him. He used to come here a lot, he was pretty sure. The barista had recognised him, asked where he'd been for so long, so... yeah, he must have used to come here pretty often. And this was his table, he was sure - or, their table, he supposed. Where he used to sit with his friends.

The coffee shop was quiet, only Janus and a few older couples sat around, until the bell rang and a group wandered in. Janus recognised them, and, after they all ordered their drinks, they seemed to recognise him.

The ghosts of the past had come back to life. The faces were no longer obscured, no longer blocked by the part of his mind that didn't want him to remember. They were standing right in front of him, frowning at him. They were here, and they'd come back with a vengeance.

He stared down at his coffee, hoping that maybe they wouldn't notice him. They all got their own drinks and sat down, every now and then glancing over at him, whispering amongst themselves as though formulating a plan. And he remained in his seat, trying his very hardest to turn invisible. He didn't know what he'd done to make them all so angry, to make them all hate him, to make them all abandon him, and he really didn't want to find out.

He continued to drink, and he ran out of coffee far sooner than he thought he would. The group was still sat in the coffee shop, and if he moved they would surely notice, and maybe they'd confront him, maybe those memories he tried so hard to push down would resurface again.

He'd stayed too long. One of them came over, slamming a hand on the table. Janus plastered on a smile and turned his head, trying to remain calm.

"Sorry, do I know you?" he asked, his voice smooth.

The- The stranger rolled his eyes. "You know exactly who I am, Janus. What the fuck are you doing back here?"

Janus blinked. He knew his name. Of course he knew his name - this was the friend from the library, the one in the black and purple jacket. Memories flashed through Janus' mind again, of an evening in which Janus helped to sow that jacket, helped to create something that his friend well and truly loved.

"Don't play dumb," the now-stranger growled.

Janus' eyes darted around, noticing that the barista was watching the exchange carefully, her fingers wrapped around something in her pocket.

"Listen," Janus said, "I don't know who you think I am, but I've never met you before in my life."

Others had joined now as well. Blue-Tie hovered behind Purple-Patches, and now Blue-Polo-Shirt sat opposite him, looking curiously at Janus.

"Janus," Blue-Polo-Shirt said, softly, "I'm sorry about Virgil, it's just..."

Virgil. That was Purple-Patches. His name was Virgil.

"We weren't exactly expecting to see you here," Blue-Polo-Shirt continued. God, what was their name. "And I do kind of agree that... well, it is a little weird, after everything that happened..."

What happened? Janus wanted to scream. He didn't know why he'd brought himself back here, or why these now-strangers were angry at him, or why there was now tears streaming down his face, or why Virgil had moved away, left the coffee shop with a scowl on his face, why the twins had moved as well, each refusing to look Janus in the eye, why Blue-Tie still hovered close by but refused to interact with Janus, why all of this was happening.

"Janus?" Blue-Polo-Shirt said again. "Are you okay?"

He breathed in and tried to wipe away his tears, but they still kept coming. "I-" He tried to speak, but choked on his words.

"Janus," Blue-Tie now said, sitting next to Blue-Polo-Shirt, "don't take this as a 'we want you back', but... I am concerned. You look..."

He looked like a mess, Janus knew that. He was fairly certain that it was due to these now-strangers that he was a mess.

When Janus showed no signs of calming down, Blue-Polo-Shirt reached a hand across the table, lying it on top of Janus' shaking hand. "Breathe for me, Janus." They began to count, and Janus followed their rhythm. After a few minutes, the tears stopped. "Now," they continued, "are you okay?"

Janus was half tempted to roll his eyes and shout, Yeah, of course, that's why I'm crying, but instead he just shook his head.

"I'm sorry about the others," Blue-Polo-Shirt said. "They, uh, well..." They didn't need to continue. Janus already knew that he had fucked up, somehow, he just... didn't remember how or why. "We weren't exactly expecting you to show up here. Especially..."

"I'm sorry," Janus just about managed to get out, cringing at how hoarse his voice sounded. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

Blue-Polo-Shirt and Blue-Tie exchanged a concerned glance, before Blue-Polo-Shirt looked back at Janus. "Do you... not remember?"

Janus' fixed his eyes on the table. "I'm trying. I really am. I don't... I don't know what..."

"It's been three months, Janus," Blue-Tie said. "Surely you remember something about what happened. It wasn't as if you were drunk or high or whatever."

Three months. Is that how long it had been? He hadn't talked to anybody since the bad thing happened, had he?

"I think he's telling the truth, Logan," Blue-Polo-Shirt said.

Logan. Another name. Yes, Janus remembered that now. Logan. And...

"Patton," Janus mumbled, before his eyes widened. "Patton!"

Patton frowned. "Uh... yeah?"

Janus cringed. "Sorry, I, um..."

"Did you forget?"

Janus nodded, sheepishly.

"Janus," Logan said, "have you talked to anyone since you left us."

Janus blinked. "Since I... what?"

"He doesn't know, Logan," Patton said. "He doesn't remember what happened."

Logan sighed. "Either way, have you talked to anyone?"

No. He hadn't. All he'd done was stare at his wall, occasionally leave his room for food, or a shower, but mostly just stare at his wall and sleep.

"I'll take that as a no," Logan decided. "You are aware of your current state, correct?"

"I know that I'm a mess, if that's what you mean," Janus said. "I'm... working on that."

Patton frowned. "Did- Did something happen? Other than, y'know..."

"No, actually, I don't know," Janus snapped, instantly regretting it as he saw Patton flinch. "Sorry, I mean, I... You guys abandoned me."

Is that what happened? That would make sense. It would explain why he had been sitting all alone in his apartment, slowly wasting away.

"Actually, I believe it was you who abandoned us," Logan corrected.

Janus sank down in his chair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt any of you. I don't... I can leave. You'll never have to see me again, I-"

"No, Janus, don't," Patton said, grabbing his hand before he was able to stand up. "We're sorry, as well. Have you been all alone, all this time?"

Janus nodded slowly.

"Have you even left your apartment since then? Before now, I mean."

Janus didn't respond.

"Alright." Patton sighed. "Come with us. You can stay with me and Logan for a while, if you want."

Janus blinked. "I..."

"Maybe you can get some of those memories back," Patton said. "Or at the very least have a good meal."

Janus stared down at the table.

"It's alright," Patton said, "you can trust us. We're... We were your friends. And I can forgive you for what happened. I'm sure you can find it in you to forgive us, as well."

Janus wasn't sure if he could. He still didn't know what had happened, whether he was the victim or whether he was in the wrong, whether Patton truly was a friend.

But, at the same time, he had nothing to lose. It was either accept Patton's offer or return to his cold, empty apartment, all alone.

"Okay," Janus said. "I forgive you. And, yes, that... would be nice."

Patton gave him a small smile, and then lead him out of the coffee shop, Logan trailing behind. He walked around the streets again, this time with a guide, and recognised more, understood where he was and what he was doing. He remembered that he used to crash with Patton and Logan a lot, back when they were all friends. So maybe... maybe this would be alright.

He would be fine. The ghosts of the past were back, and here to stay.

[rowdy-revenant]

The Beauty of a Beast - part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Becky Rosen (briefly), Y/N Singer, Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Chuck, Jack, Charlie, Crowley - future pairing of Gabriel x reader

Words: 1500+

Beta-reader: @nobodys-baby-now

Warnings: Bi!Dean (if you consider that a warning), arguing

Chapter summary: Sam tries to cheer up his rejected brother. Planning dinner doesn’t work out very well at the castle.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[General masterlist] [Gabriel masterlist]

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Part 5 - Taverns and Tea

Business at the Roadhouse tavern was like it always was; busy. Dean Winchester sat in his usual fur covered chair, facing the fireplace. His brother brought another round of drinks for the both of them and set them on a table before Dean.

Dean downed another pint. “What’s the point.” He muttered. “I keep pursuing Y/N and every time they shoot me down.”

“So maybe stop pursuing them?” Sam offered.

The older Winchester glared at his brother.

“Look, Dean, it’s not the end of the world. You can get any girl- or guy, for that matter- in town you want!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want anyone else!” Dean huffed. The hunter was too stubborn to let the one that got away go.

“Dean, please. Come on, Benny Lafitte’s single, right?” Sam said.

“I’m not dating someone taller than me.” Dean grumbled.

“What about Jo Harvelle?” Sam offered.

“Talks too much.” Dean scoffed.

“Gadreel? The librarian?”

“He’s a nerd.”

“Becky Rosen?”

“More like clingy.”

“Garth Fitzgerald’s a nice guy.”

“He’s always too happy.”

“Rowena?”

“You’re joking. Why can’t Y/N just like me?” Dean whined.

Sam sighed. “Don’t put yourself down like this, Dean.”

“If I’m not good enough for them, I’m not good enough at all.” Dean concluded, turning his green eyes to the ground and pouting like a child.

Sam sat next to Dean. He looked up at the mantle and the wall behind it. Countless animal heads decorated the tavern but this section? This was all the Winchesters’. Scratch that, it was all Dean’s. All Sam did during hunts was chase the prey for Dean to wear it out before his brother got the final shot, and all the credit. Sam always felt proud of his brother, though there was always a hint of jealousy.

“Everyone here wishes they were you. Your skills, your good looks…” Sam would add ‘your brains’ but his brother wasn’t exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver. “Your reputation…” He added. “Everybody in town either wants to be with you or to be you.”

Dean just grunted as a reply.

“Tell me again how you got that one.” Sam said, pointing to the stuffed head of a bear.

A faint smile crept across Dean’s face. “Took me three whole days. I sprained my ankle in the process, but still managed to catch it.”

A couple people grouped around Dean as he told the tale.

“It got caught in a trap I had laid out by the river, so I caught up to it and BANG!” Dean shouted. “Killed it in one shot.”

Becky, a blonde who was arguably Dean’s biggest fan clapped as he finished the story. Dean gestured for her to come closer, so she did, sitting on the arm of the armchair, leaning towards her crush.

“Oh Dean,” Becky sighed. “You’re sooo manly.”

The elder brother grinned and flexed. “I work out, you know. I bet I could lift Sam.”

“Really?” She gasped.

Sam grimaced. “Please don’t. We’ll take your word for it.”

Dean laughed. “Scared I’m right, Sammy?”

Dean went on telling hunting stories about his prowess. He was skilled, that was true, but his ego and stubbornness often got him in trouble, so Sam was the one who had to pull him out of it. Of course, the favour was never returned.

Sam was always there for his brother. He supported him and helped him with hunts or picking up flings. The thing was, he didn’t have the courage to get in Dean’s way when things got out of hand.

If Sam had Dean’s courage, or Dean had Sam’s intellect, things would probably turn out different for the brothers.

A loud knock at your door woke you. You sat up and yawned, surprised for a second by the unfamiliar surroundings. You weren’t home, you remembered.

Your room in this castle had to be the size of your house in the village. The four poster bed was soft and big. The walls were painted elegantly, rather than plain brick. Everything was so much bigger, so much more expensive. Not to mention the wardrobe was alive too.

There was another knock. “Dinner. Now. Join me.” The Beast growled from outside.

“Ask nicely.” Castiel chided.

“And smile!” Balthazar added.

The Beast bared his fangs in what vaguely resembled a smile.

Balthazar winced. “We’ll work on that.”

“Now ask again,” Chuck said. “Nicely.”

The Beast huffed and faced the door again. “Would you join me for dinner?” He asked in a softer, but still demanding voice.

You wanted to scream. “Join you? You treat me like garbage and you want me to eat dinner with you?!” You yelled.

The feathers of the Beast wings bristled, and his chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing quickened.

The servants picked up quickly on his anger. Castiel was the first to try and calm him down. “Easy now-”

The Beast raised his fist and slammed it against the door. “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER AND THAT’S NOT A REQUEST!” He roared.

“NO!” You yelled back, twisting the lock on the door handle and dragging a chair in front of it. You didn’t want to see his ugly face again if you could help it.

“Fine!” The Beast sneered. “GO AHEAD AND STARVE! If you don’t eat with me, you don’t eat at all!”

“Fine!” You replied.

The Beast turned and stormed off down the hall, slashing a wall in anger as he went.

Balthazar looked at his friends. “Staff meeting.”

Balthazar stood on the round table, tapping his arm against a glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Hello, everyone.” Balthazar started. “Well, everyone who could be here.”

“I can tell dad!” A teacup piped up.

“Hush, Jack. Later.” Castiel replied.

“So, we have a guest. Someone from the village named Y/N.” Balthazar continued. “As you know, we don’t have a lot of time left. If things work out, Y/N could be the one. We’ll all return to normal.”

“That’s a great plan and all, but what if it doesn’t work?” Charlie, a former maid turned cardinal-shaped feather-duster asked.

“We have to try.” Chuck said.

The group murmured in agreement.

“So, the master has forbidden Y/N to eat dinner with him after his temper tantrum. Of course, we can’t have that.” Balthazar retold. “Gabriel will be asleep in his quarters soon enough. We’ll make a second dinner.”

“Castiel, Jack, bring some tea upstairs for our guest. Tell Y/N and Crowley of the plan. Charlie, tell Lucifer to wait in the dining room. The rest of us will cook and set up.” Chuck gave the orders.

Cas nodded as best as a teapot could nod. “Come along, Jack.”

Jack skipped across the table to join his uncle. “Charlie, tell dad I say hi!”

Charlie smiled. “Will do, kiddo.”

“So, can I ask why you’re a wardrobe?” You inquired.

Crowley hummed, thinking. “Suppose the one who cursed us had a sense of humour. I was a tailor.”

“Huh. Interesting.” You replied.

“And you?” Crowley asked. “What do you do?”

“I help- or helped my father with his work.” You explained. “He makes things like clocks and music boxes.”

A tap at the door ended your quiet conversation.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “Go away.”

“It’s Castiel.” Was the muffled reply.

“The master doesn’t knock that softly.” Crowley chuckled. “Let him in.”

You moved the chair away from your door and unlocked it. When you opened the door, a trolley with a tea set was before you.

“You must be Castiel.” You said, wheeling the cart in.

“I am.” The teapot replied. “This,” He gestured to the teacup beside him “Is Jack.”

“Nice to meet you!” The little cup replied, its painted face grinning. He sounded young. You felt pity for this poor kid. He was probably the only one of his age in this palace.

You smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”

“We’re making you something to eat.” Castiel said.

You frowned. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat.”

“What the great big lummock doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Crowley huffed. “You need to eat, love.”

“You’re not afraid of him?”

The room fell silent.

“No,” Castiel finally spoke. “He has outbursts but he’ll never hurt anyone.”

“I think the person who fears him most is himself.” Crowley mused. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You replied. “He doesn’t scare me. He’s big and he’s cruel, but there’s… something about him. Like an animal lashing out in pain…”

You fell quiet. Could this beast have any emotion apart from anger? Why would these cursed people stand up for him? How did this happen?

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

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[myriadimagines]

Interesting Girl

DC (Suicide Squad) One Shot

Characters: [FEMALE] Reader x Joker

Warnings: alcohol consumption, violence and swearing

Request: “Hey could I get a one shot where the joker sees the reader at the club and is fascinated by her, he starts keeping an eye on her but when another mob boss goes to kidnap her because she owes them something like money, she starts kicking ass. The joker realizes that he was not stalking a regular girl but a badass mutant, which makes him obsessed with her? Ty” - anonymous

Word Count: 1,363

A/N: hope this was alright !!

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“What can I get for you, hot stuff?” you brushed your hair out of your eyes and plastered a saccharine smile on your face as a man stumbled away from the dance floor and towards the bar. He was clearly drunk, evident in his clumsy steps and flushed cheeks, but he managed to balance himself on the bar and beckon for you to come closer.

“A sh-shot of vodka, honey” the man slurred, and you tried your best to hide your disgust as you reluctantly complied. At any other bar, you probably would’ve refused, or just handed him a shot of water because he looked too drunk to be able to tell the difference. However, you worked at the Joker’s bar, and you never knew what kind of dangerous people you could run into here.

You moved around to the other side of the bar to pour the shot, before sliding it to the man. He tilted his head back and swallowed it, screwing his eyes shut before shaking his head and turning to give you a grin. “That’s some good stuff.”

You gave him a tense smile and turned around to put the vodka back, when the man suddenly lunged across the bar to grab your arm. “I’m not done yet.”

Instinctively, you grabbed the knife from under the bar and spun around to hold it against the man’s neck. You could see his eyes widen as he froze, and you leaned your face closer and growled, “Let. Go.”

The man quickly let go of your arm, stumbling backwards with his hands raised above his head. Using the knife, you gestured for him to leave you and return to the dance floor, and he quickly scrambled away. Rolling your eyes, you put the knife back and looked up to see Joker staring at you from the other side of the bar.

He was in his own private area of course, lounging on his gold couches as he was surrounded by his guards. Joker tilted his head and grinned as he watched you quickly avoid eye contact and pull out a towel to begin wiping the bar. You were new here, and Joker probably wouldn’t have paid attention to some random girl who just started working at your bar, but you were different, especially after Joker had just seen you threaten one of his customers with a knife.

“Want me to go punish her, boss?” one of Joker’s guards followed his fixated gaze to you. The guard had also seen you threaten Joker’s customer, but couldn’t quite gauge what Joker’s reaction to it was. Sometimes, Joker would be furious and have the worker punished if they ever treated a customer badly. But in some rare cases, Joker would find entertainment out of it.

This was one of those cases.

“Punish her?” Joker laughed, looking up at his guard. “No, I think we should praise her! What a fiery spirit!”

Joker looked back over at you, where you were helping two of the dancers get some water before they had to go back to work. He beckoned for his guard to come closer, and whispered, “Find out her name.”

Nodding, the guard walked off, while Joker’s eyes still remained on you.

--

The bar was closed during daytime, and closed hours were probably the only time of the day where you got any peace and quiet.

You had arrived about two hours early, dumping your bag under the bar and pulling out your uniform to change into. It was a short, shimmery gold dress which you thought was impractical to bartend in, but you weren’t about to go complaining to Joker about it. You peeped your head up to see if anyone was around, then quickly ducked down to slip out of your shirt and jeans and pull the dress on. You had just stood up and straightened the dress out when the doors slammed open, and you looked over.

Frowning, you immediately recognized the mobster’s men as at least ten of them filed through the door and stood around the perimeter of the room before Knives, the local the mob boss, appeared. Two of his men quickly barricaded the door as Knives approached you, furious.

“Where’s my money, y/n?” he snarled slamming his hands on the table. You could see some of his men flinch, but you tilted your head, bored.

“I told you I’d get it to you by the end of the month.” you replied calmly, and Knives’ face contorted in anger as he pulled out a gun from his waistband and held it in front of your face. Rolling your eyes, you continued, “I still have a week left!”

“I’m gettin’ real tired of your excuses, bitch.” he snapped, and you opened your mouth in mock fear.

“Well I’m getting tired of you constantly being on my ass about this.” you leaned forward so that the gun was pressed against your forehead. “I told you end of the month, and I meant end of the month. If you wanna shoot me, go ahead, but that means you won’t get your money.”

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, Joker had arrived just minutes before Knives had, and was observing the whole scene. His guards stood with their guns aimed, ready to fire, yet Joker raised his hands and instructed them to stop. There was something about your oddly calm demeanor that perplexed him, and he was eager to see how the scene would turn out.

“You’re right.” Knives finally said, lifting the gun. “If I shoot you, I ain’t getting my money. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna give you a taste to what’s to come if you don’t deliver.”

You scoffed as you watched Knives step back and his men approach you, and beneath the bar, you could feel your powers coursing through your fingertips. No one here knew you were a mutant with the power to control metal, and a faint smirk appeared on your lips.

“You sure you want to do this?” you asked, all the knives under the bar hovering as you lifted them out of their stops. Knives laughed, clearly underestimating you, and you shrugged as you raised your hands, the knives you were controlling appearing from under the bar and revealing themselves to everyone. “Alright, suit yourself.”

Before anyone had time to react, you had already flung the knives forward, stabbing the first half of Knives men. The other half opened fire, but you simply raised your hands and stopped the bullets. You could see Knives’ eyes widen in fear as you turned the bullets around, which were shielding you like a wall. You jumped over the bar, and from his private area, Joker leaned forward, fascinated. He had no idea you were a mutant, and just when he thought he was already obsessed with you, he was becoming even more obsessed.

You let go of the bullets, killing the rest of Knives’ men, leaving Knives standing alone in the middle of the room, surrounded by the fallen bodies of his guards. Knives stumbled backwards as you advanced, and you shrugged.

“I warned you.” you said vaguely, and you could see Knives gulp. “Are you going to stop bothering me now?”

Knives nodded, his head bobbing up and down before you motioned for him to leave. He sprinted out of the bar, stumbling as he tried to escape. You sighed as you looked around at the dead bodies, wondering how you were going to get rid of them all.

You suddenly heard someone clapping, and looked up to see Joker laughing as he stepped towards you. You straightened, your eyes widening, as you stammered, “I-I’m so sorry about the mess, boss. I’ll clean it up.”

“You are an interesting girl, y/n, I’ll give ya that.” Joker chuckled, before he whistled. His guards approached, and he motioned to the bodies. “Get rid of this mess.”

The guards obliged, bending down to lift up the bodies as Joker clicked his tongue and wagged a finger at you.

“Come here,” he instructed, and you slowly walked over. “We got a lot to talk about, y/n.”

tags: @doctorwhoandrory​