#it's about damn time that she faces her issues head on rather than just relying on idealistic optimism

[mitski]

RWBY (09x04)

Just answer the question. What are you? Are you sure you know? You have to be sure of what you are, and what you are going to be.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I’m sorry, but can I just go on a little rant about the Louis, clouis, and the Clem comic...? 

I didn’t really talk about Louis in my overall review of the comic because I wanted that to be more contained to the content shown on the pages, Clementine’s relationship with AJ, and her as a character.... but the more I think about these comics and Louis, the more frustrated I become thinking about what Clementine abandoning everyone would do to him. 

[... okay it’s not little anymore since I guess I can never just do anything simple when it comes to Louis, sorry my bad]

So, no surprise, we all know the comic’s bullshit by now. Clementine leaving everything and everyone behind because she’s not happy is dumb, AJ just letting her go is dumb, and Clem going to the mountains on crutches and a peg leg to find this so-called happiness is dumb. 

Now that we’ve established it’s dumb, I wanna talk about Louis because I got a lot of built up feelings about how bullshit this storyline is with how Clementine would not only abandon AJ, but also abandon Louis. 

Because let me tell you..... his heart would be broken beyond repair and I need to talk about why.

Sigh.... so.... muh boy. 

Before he met Clementine, Louis was this laidback, irresponsible, but caring and musical person who kept his head down to avoid conflict and never looked at the future. He was the kind of person who took things one day at a time, saw survival as a day-to-day task, and said that the future doesn’t exist, there’s only today. You get the point, he was never too concerned with things because they always seemed to work out, and if they didn’t, then that sucks and that’s why we should appreciate every day while we have it. 

Louis is shown to be charismatic and friendly, he spends his free time playing piano and card games, but no one really takes him seriously. Not even Marlon, his best friend for 8+ years. While he doesn’t seem to be on bad terms with anyone [including Aasim, they just act like people who disagree with the other’s point of view and have had the same argument many times, but that doesn’t mean they hate each other, y’know?] he also doesn’t appear super close with anyone outside of Marlon and possibly Violet, but even then. 

Marlon’s shown to have little faith in him with the way he talks about if Louis will even show up to hunt. He has a controlling grip on Louis that’s prominent during the confrontation scene when he uses intimidation to try to convince Louis to not interfere. Oh, and there’s the fact that Marlon’s been lying to Louis for the past year about the twins and then continued to lie to his face about what really happened to Brody... which isn’t great when you consider how Louis was the only one who had blind faith in him as a leader and, according to Marlon, was the only one who couldn’t see how pathetic he always was. 

Violet, while having a few more nicer moments with him than Marlon, still invalidates him and his feelings several times throughout the first half of the game which makes me wonder how close they ever were, or at least if Violet ever considered him a close friend to begin with. And no, a small monologue in the dorms doesn’t make everything better or confirm they were brotp the whole time... especially when once they’re on the boat, Louis might as well not exist because Violet can’t be bothered to acknowledge what happened to him or inquire about how he’s doing. I guess she just didn’t have time react while standing in her cell for several unbothered minutes-- no wait, it’s she already reacted off screen. Right. Good writing is good.

What I’m getting at here is that even though Louis is surrounded by people who he genuinely cares about, there is an argument to be made that he’s a lonely person. Hell, he’s aware of his loneliness when he says that no one hears past his music and jokes. I mean, how many nights do you think he spent by himself playing the piano because no one wanted to hear it? Are they like Violet and crack jokes about how he doesn’t have actual talent? Probably, given that someone literally carved “you suck at playing” onto the side of the damn piano. 

Oh, and let’s touch on that backstory of his. Louis grew up wealthy with two parents who loved him and each other, and they gave him anything he wanted except singing lessons. Louis says he wanted to be a real musician. But I guess his father didn’t like that idea and told him no, with the [as Louis puts it] dumb dad lesson of, “You get to be happy, or you get to be rich, can’t be both.” ...which is interesting given that Louis and his family were stupid rich but also.... were they not happy? well, that doesn’t make sense because little Louis knew that if he broke up their marriage, they would be hurt. 

So yeah, Louis was so upset that his father continually refused to let him take singing lessons that he broke into the man’s credit cards and faked an affair, which led to his parents divorcing... and then he spit his father’s words back in his face. 

Then they dumped him at Ericson. And the walkers came. 

There’s so much to unpack from the story he tells that it could be it’s own analysis, but basically.... Louis is aware of why what he did was fucked up, and he carries it with him every day. 

He regrets what he did, chews himself out for being such a “vindictive fuckhead” [and the amount of force used in that line tells you a lot, like how it’s not the first time he’s chastised himself like this] and he admits that he doesn’t even know the person he’s talking about. Yet, he still sees himself as bad, saying that they [I assume the staff] told him and the other kids they’re bad people. I don’t doubt that Louis internalized that which played a huge role in the confidence and self-esteem issues he has during tfs. 

Anyway, I’ll come back to this later, but when you take that amount of guilt and regret, and mix it with the fact that they dropped him off at this school that was supposed to make him better.... then the walkers came and those teachers, staff, and headmaster? Gone. Left a bunch of kids to fend for themselves, with the exception of Ms. Martin [but given how she looks when we find her I doubt she lasted that long] and I cannot imagine how horrifying that was for all of them. The dead are up eating people, and if you die you become one of them... and the people you thought you could rely on just fucking left you to die at this school. 

Every kid in that school has trauma and abandonment issues from before and after the world went to shit, every last one, and Louis isn’t the exception here. Over the years, a lot of kids died and they’ve all seen horrible shit. They all knew they were never going to see their families again, and as far as we know, no one came to get their kids at the beginning. They had to find ways of coping while trying to survive, and all they had left was each other. 

Louis copes with music and games and jokes. He’s built up this persona where it seems like he’s unaffected by the comments the others make, that the death and suffering he’s gone through is in the past, that he is confident and open to those around him.

But then Clementine and AJ show up, and Louis grows close with both of them. They had immediate chemistry upon first meeting, he was the one who looked after AJ since it seems like everyone else saw him as a little terror, and he went out of his way to be kind and make them comfortable. 

When they go hunting with him, Louis and Clementine have a moment after taking care of the walker where they lower their guards a bit-- Louis gives her more in-depth reasons for his views of survival, and going off her expression, it gets to her and makes her think.... but they’ve know each other a day and he’s not quick to infodump his life story or let her in, so he cuts the conversation short.

Then we have the Marlon confrontation scene that I have gone over so many times in the past. I won’t dillydally with it too long but..... Clementine appeals to Louis, who curls in on himself because of the control Marlon has on him. He wants to help, and hell, he knows this is wrong but he’s so used to not getting involved that he gets defensive.... plus, he’s known Clementine for two days, and he’s known Marlon for 8+ years.... he wants to believe Marlon but you can tell he doesn’t want this, either. It takes Clementine talking to him to give him courage to stand between her and Marlon’s gun and it’s a lot.

AJ shoots Marlon and everything goes to shit, and Louis is a goddamn mess. His best friend was murderer right in front of him, so add that to the trauma list, and he’s overwhelmed with all these feelings that again.... they keep getting invalidated by Violet because “Marlon was a liar and murderer, therefore you shouldn’t feel bad about his death. Get over yourself, Louis, you can be such a shithead sometimes.” 

Oh yeah Vi, I guess he should care more about two people he’s known for a total of two days rather than for the safety of the people [including you] he’s grown up with and cared about for 8+ years.... makes sense. 

So yeah, little to no support during this time. Alone again. 

And just because I have to make this clear so no one gets a hair up their ass-- both Louis and Violet are wrong here. Kicking them out isn’t the solution, but neither is acting like AJ was right to commit murder just because it was Marlon.

 But plots gotta plot, so they get voted out and you can see that Louis is conflicted about the whole thing. He wants them gone, but at the same time, he knows what kicking them out means. You can see it on his face that he’s not okay with kicking them out. He’s hurting when he’s there in the dorms telling them how the vote went... he literally doesn’t know what else to do. He just knows that everything hurts, Clem and AJ caused it, and he wants the pain to stop. He even tries to justify it to himself by figuring that they’ve done this before so they’ll be fine. Not a great thing to say, Lou. 

Anyway, we know the story, Clem and AJ come back and Louis once again sees the consequences of acting out of pain.... AJ is shot because Louis was hurt and he made a bad decision that he’s gotta live with.... something that he’s done before, and this affirms to him that he’s bad. He wishes he could take it back, and goes as far as to admit that to Clementine during the archery scene. 

By the way, credit to him for his apology to her. It’s rare in these games that Clem gets a genuine apology from someone who hurt her and doesn’t turn around to repeat the hurtful behavior, y’know? Plus, I can think of plenty of characters who owed Clem an apology in the past or if they did apologize, it was half-assed. 

You can feel how conflicted he is with this whole thing-- learning who Marlon really was and what he did, feeling something for Clementine before everything went down and not knowing how to handle those feelings afterward, caring about AJ and understanding why he thought shooting was the best choice but still hurting that his friend is dead.... 

And the thing is.... Louis forgives her for so much, as she does him, and through all of that bullshit, they manage to develop that strong connection that turns romantic. Louis lets himself be fully vulnerable with her and is honest about his feelings, how she listened when no one else did and seeing him for more than just the persona he put on. 

This works on Clementine’s side, too. Clementine has been through her own fair share of bullshit-- trauma, abandonment, loss, injury, you name it. She’s made mistakes, done terrible things, and has been in enough groups to know that romance usually ends in heartbreak.... and yet, she’s willing to open herself up to Louis and admit she feels a lot for him. 

Is it a little rushed? Yep. Could it have been handled better? Of course, most things this season could’ve, but what we got was pretty good. 

So Clementine and Louis are romantically involved now, the raiders attack, and she saves him... and boy does Louis feel guilty about that one, too. He feels bad enough that he questions why she would pick him because he can’t fathom his life being worth saving over another’s. He doesn’t see himself as useful, and even though Clementine is literally his girlfriend at this point, his self-esteem is so all over the place that he can’t understand why she would have him at her side. 

And when Clementine tells him that he’s too important to her, he’s too baffled to even give a response. He looks at her in disbelief like he wasn’t expecting her to say that.  But this shows that at the beginning of their relationship, he still doubts himself, and through her working with him, he begins to build up that strength in himself. 

He becomes brave enough to share what got him sent to the school with her, and he plays Don’t Be Afraid for everyone at the party and like.... for once, everyone is listening to him. Really listening to him. They’re not talking shit about his musical skills, they’re not ignoring him or the feelings he’s putting into the song, they’re sitting there with him and I just..... if you watch him, you can see that his eyes get pretty glossy throughout the song. The moment meant something to everyone. 

There’s also the fact that Clementine asked him to come with her and AJ onto the boat, and to be the one in charge of the bomb... that’s a huge responsibly and he feels the pressure of that. He starts to panic a bit about if he can do it, because what if he fucks up? What if he gets them caught and makes everything worse? What if something happens to Clementine and he can’t do anything about it? 

She’s there to reassure him that she believes in him, and that he can do this. They’re going to get everyone back, and he needs to focus... then he asks her to slap him which why would you? that’s dumb, so Clementine smooches him instead and like.... he physically relaxes into her because he’s comfortable and trusts her in this situation. 

Also, he loves her and cares about this mission enough to cover himself and his fancy jacket in walker guts.... sure, he complains while doing so but how else is he gonna cope with rubbing rotten guts on himself to blend in with a herd of walkers? 

Skipping ahead so that we’re not here all day, I wanna talk about the walk back to the school because it’s one of the most important clouis moments in the game and a huge reason that solidifies why the comic is bullshit.

Louis went off on his own to go out and find them. He didn’t know where they would be, he just knew that he had to go out and find them after making sure everyone was okay back at the school because he couldn’t bare the thought that he had lost them. And the way the AJ gets so excited to see him? and the group hug??

At this point, Louis has grown so much as a character. With Clementine by his side to support him, he’s grown stronger and more reliable. Remember how he never thought about the future? Well, now he is because his relationship with Clementine has given him a reason to long for a future. He talks about building this imaginary house with her, one he knows they can’t physically build... but it’s his way of saying we can build a home together, that he wants a future with her and AJ and everyone else. It’s such a personal conversation that flows so easy between them. Louis is more comfortable talking to her about things from his past, which is something he didn’t want to do back in ep1. 

He confides in her how he’s feeling after he shot and killed Dorian, he tells her that having a home means protecting it and I just.... it’s so good, okay? And from Clementine’s side, you can feel how at ease she is with him, too. Just the way she smiles at him as they’re walking? like he’s the cutest thing and she’s so happy to have him with her? 

But then we gotta deal with Minerva’s crazy ass on the bridge and well, AJ shoots Tenn and Louis is having flashbacks to Marlon and it’s not great. That’s a whole thing, and he ends up separated from them while escaping.

We don’t get to see Louis’ reaction to Clementine getting bit and losing her leg since I guess that puts a damper on the overly happy ending. But, going off of what we know about him and what I’ve explained [which isn’t even all of it, this isn’t a full Louis character analysis. if it was, it would be much longer and in multiple parts... believe it or not, I’m trying to not make this too long and only sorta failing...] we can get an idea of how he would react. 

Um, to say he was upset is an understatement.

Because remember, he had no time to think and climbed over the fence, thinking he could get them to climb over and they could get away, but it didn’t work. He ended up leaving them in order to save himself since walkers were closing in on him.

But you know that he’d blame himself for the bite. A lot of, “if I had just stayed” and “I should’ve climbed back over, I should’ve stayed with you.” I’m sure there were points where it looked like Clem wouldn’t make it and I can’t imagine how much hurt he went through watching her suffer and heal from losing a leg like that. 

Not only that, but knowing that AJ was the one to do it? And him thinking about what Clem’s death would do to AJ after all this? There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Louis would take care of AJ if she died. He cares about AJ, and he loves Clementine, so he be there for both of them, even if he’s still hurting from Tenn’s death. 

However, Clementine didn’t die. She survived the bite and amputation, and when we flashforward, she and Louis are still happily together. Louis is right there next to her at dinner, and he’s the one to help her with her crutches. He’s there to go over future plans to meet the traveling caravan, and Clementine wants him to be the one to go. 

Oh, and Louis once again forgives AJ for shooting Tenn, claiming that he understands that AJ saw something that he couldn’t. Like with Marlon, he’s not happy Tenn’s dead but he can see why AJ did it to save his life. 

I just..... happy ending. Clementine and Louis are together and she’s truly happy to have found a home for her and AJ with him at Ericson. 

....But then the comic thought it would be fun to say “nah.” 

The comic isn’t canon, I’m still insulted that it would ever consider itself as such, but even so I can’t help but feel so frustrated about how this would destroy Louis. 

He finally found someone he would consider his best friend, not just his girlfriend. She saw past that funny man persona and he trusted her enough to let her past this wall he built around himself. He let himself become vulnerable around her, he named his song after her. Their initials are carved into his piano with a heart surrounding them. He loved her. 

Clementine left him feeling loved, something he probably hasn’t truly felt since he was a little boy with his parents before their divorce. She loved him even after hearing his past because she knew that wasn’t him anymore, and she helped him build the confidence he needed to step up. Because of Clementine, Louis wants to enjoy every day while also looking at the future. He isn’t lonely anymore, he has her and AJ. He’s truly happy.

So to tell me that Louis would wake up one morning only to have AJ tell him that Clementine’s gone, she’ been planning an escape without telling anyone because she wasn’t happy...? I’m sorry, but if you think that wouldn’t leave Louis absolutely devastated, then you know nothing about him as a character. 

This idea is just.... look, Louis is perceptive. That’s a big part of his character, he’s perceptive of those around him. If Clementine was showing signs of being unhappy or depression, he would see it. He would notice a change. He would be able to tell if something was off, and he would ask her about it. Louis is the type of person to ask you what you need. What can he do to help? What do you need to feel better? And if you don’t know, it’s okay, he’ll help you figure it out in any way possible. 

Plus, the comic suggests that there are times where she went off on her own but came back [probably doing her escape prep ugh] and you expect me to believe that Louis wouldn’t notice that or wonder what she’s doing? Wouldn’t sense that something’s going on? 

After she’s gone, he’s going to blame himself for not being enough. He couldn’t make her happy and he was a fool to think he ever could. AJ lost the only family he’s known since he was born because Louis couldn’t help her, couldn’t do anything to stop her from leaving. 

And for him to realize that she didn’t love him? Clementine, the girl he thought the world of because of how strong and confident and in-charge she was, because she saw him for who he was..... she left him, abandoned him... and she couldn’t even be bothered with a goodbye.... that says that she didn’t care all that much about him in the end.

You KNOW that he would think he had this coming, too. How could the universe allow him to fall in love and be happy with someone who loved him back after what he did to his parents? He would feel so heartbroken that he would see this as some sort of karma for breaking up his parents happy marriage as a kid years before he ever met Clementine and before the apocalypse.

I fucking can’t.... I don’t have the words to fully explain how much I hate this. Louis wouldn’t be okay afterward, and I doubt he’d ever fully recover. I wasn’t joking when I mentioned before that Louis would stop playing piano. How could he sit there and play when I he can see is their initials and remember the night she confessed to him? When he named his song after her? Clementine left and took the music with her because Louis wouldn’t have it in him... something that he used to cope would be ruined and that’s just.... it’s fucking awful. 

Not only that, but now he has AJ who I assume is hurting just as much [though the comics inaccurately assume he would just let Clem go sooo... yeah] and he would be the only one Louis would really talk to about it, but then again.... what if AJ doesn’t wanna talk about it? What if AJ starts to act out and things just become terrible and Louis is just too overwhelmed? 

I just.... UGH. That’s how I feel. UGH. 

Clementine from the comic? Not her. She would never fucking do this to Louis, AJ, or anyone else at Ericson, and you would know that if you played the tfs. 

Sigh.... sorry, I just needed to get this all out. I haven’t seen anyone talk about how Clem leaving would affect Louis and I’ve gotten some asks/come across some posts about Louis that have left me incredibly annoyed.... well, I was annoyed before because of the comics, so my annoyances with those things were only heightened. So yeah... I wanted to talk about Louis’ character in hopes of explaining why he would be so hurt if this comic was canon. 

Which it’s not. So it’s fine. 

How are we all feelin’ at this point, by the way? I know I’m not the only one still annoyed with the comic, so I hope y’all are doin’ okay. Hope you’re stayin’ chill and thinking about your faves to help cope with this mess hahaha

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hey! You know they prompt with the m!companions waking up after spending the night with some and don’t find them in the bed? Could you do that with F!!companions too? No pressure! /gen

Female!FO4 Companions react to Waking Up Alone After Spending the Night with Sole.

Sooooo, thank you so much for asking for this, cuz I had written about half of it, and then totally forgotten about it until I got this ask, so you are awesome!

This is the second installment to this post (M!FO4 Companions with this prompt) and there will be a part with FO3 and FONV companions as well... eventually 😅

I hope you all enjoy! (And I sincerely apologize in advance for the ridiculous length of this thing [Cait's in particular], I don't know what happens, I think I have a problem. But I super appreciate all of you who stick around to read it all, each and every one of you have my heart.)

Cait:

     A dull ache persisted in Cait's muscles when she stirred beneath the sheets, she scrunched her eyebrows together as her lids rose to reveal the still dark, still disheveled hotel room. What the hell happened last night? The question briefly flashed across her mind before she recalled it. Recalled everything. Cait groaned, stretching out over the mattress, fully prepared to reunite with her lover, to wake you up in the best of ways, to touch you and be with you the way she had been last night.

Fuck. Last night… How the hell had it taken the two of you so long to do that?

Damn trust issues. Can’t they just leave me alone? Look at the good that happens when ya just let me be.

Last night had been the first time you two had been together, the first time the two of you had been intimate, and open, and honest, and real. For the first time in… hell, as long as she could remember, Cait had been her authentic self. Untainted by the venom she had injected into her veins for so long, unaffected by the liquid crutch she frequently relied on to bar her from facing herself. Even her vast insecurities hadn’t been able to touch her amid the bliss of her night with you. Because you had been authentic too, you weren’t trying to impress her, or pressure her, you didn’t pass judgement on her level of experience, didn’t berate her for her roughness, for engaging in your intimate act the only way she knew how, the only way it had ever happened when someone else initiated it, as it had always been for her. She couldn’t understand it herself, the way you’d been so patient with her, had communicated with her through everything, focused on her comfort, and her pleasure… It was so foreign to her, so unfamiliar in comparison to every other person she had been with. The act she had engaged in so many times before almost felt… new.

“Alright, what do ya say, luv? You still sore, or d’ya want to give it another go?” She shifted abruptly, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she turned to your side of the bed, green eyes glittering with ill intent, before surprise washed over them. Crimson brows rose high over the wide emerald orbs and she felt her nostrils flare unwittingly at the sight of your distinct absence.

Instantly, she wished she hadn’t turned to try and look at you. Wished that she could’ve stayed facing away just a little longer, where she could safely revel in the bliss of your night together without any consequences. She could have gazed out over the ruined hotel room, could have blushed uncharacteristically as she relived last night’s… rearrangement of all the furniture in the room. Could have kept imagining you there beside her, just as sore and worn out, but just as ready to see where this would go next. Now though…

Cait at least had the courtesy to glance around the space surrounding her before making any quick judgements, but the room was a fucking small one, and it took all of a moment to see that she was truly alone in it. Not only that, but everything belonging to you was gone too.

Now this. This shit I remember. This is all too familiar.

Normally she would have been relieved to wake up alone. It always meant she could have some peace, that she could wake up on her own terms, without harassment or expectation, without prying hands roughly dragging her from her dreams and slamming her back down into her nightmarish reality. But with you… shit was different. Even more painful than waking up next to someone she feared and despised was waking up without you by her side. The truth was like a flaming brand being pressed mercilessly to her chest, making plain to herself and everyone around her that she was hurt. That you had hurt her. She never thought the day would come.

Cait had come to the realization last night that you might be the only person who’s put her before yourself, who’s done something kind for her, who’s helped her without expecting anything in return. She came to the realization that she trusted you. More than anyone else in her life, more than Tommy, more than her own damn parents; she thought you were the only person who would never hurt her. The fact that she had been wrong made her want to spit. To curse, and fight the darkness that began to claw its way back into her heart. The same darkness you had helped expel in that vault.

She shook her head vigorously. Red hair catching in her damp eyelashes as she ground her teeth together until they ached. She wanted to scream. But dammit, she wasn’t going to let anyone know that this shit bothered her. Wasn't going to let them pity her at the sight of the hot brand you'd left on her heart when she realized you were gone.

No, she wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t let anyone hear the sounds of anguish spilling from her lips. The walls of the hotel room were paper thin, as the two of you had discovered last night after some… complaints had been issued. But Vadim had been a good sport about it. Cait wished she could look back on the memory fondly, but the glow of her euphoria was tainted red and black. An infected wound festering deep in the pit of her stomach, the hollow of her chest, the recesses of her mind.

Cait tore the blankets from her body, the thin material sticking to her sweat-dampened skin as she clambered off the mattress and began to rage around the room, snatching bits of clothing from their places on the floor and furniture. She roughly jerked up her trousers and buttoned up her corset, the action proving to be difficult as her chest expanded with her ragged inhalations. Through her fury-fogged mind, she tried to come up with a plan. Where would she go now that she didn't have you? Surely you wouldn't return to her after this. You'd gotten what you wanted, apparently; and if she was honest, she'd rather never see your face again after you'd done this to her. Made her feel this way. Made her feel filthy, and angry, and foolish, and used. Cait released a verbal sound of disgust as she threw together the last of her things. Shouldering her pack, she prepared to leave the room. Sorry Yefim, I can't be in here another fucking second. You'll have to put the furniture back yourself.

Cait slammed the hotel room door behind her, brows set low, heart pounding audibly against her chest as she loitered in front of the door, thinking about where to go next. What to do next. She couldn’t return to the combat zone, what would Tommy think? What would he say? She didn’t much care, but she didn’t want to find out either. Without Sole, what the hell was there out there for her? A flash of her potential future crossed her consciousness and she briefly saw herself crammed into some seedy corner of a bar somewhere, offering her muscle in return for some meager bits of tin, which she’d more than likely use to buy herself yet another drink at the next dive she found herself in. A vicious cycle, free of ambition, free of fulfillment, free of enjoyment… and yet, that future was more than she had ever expected for herself just a few short months ago. Back then, she would’ve given her left arm for a chance at that life, because at least she would be free. But now… you had changed everything. Helped her get clean, helped her drag herself out of the chasm her parents had forced her to dig herself into from the moment she was old enough to hold a shovel. She had wanted more for her life since meeting you. Had expected more. By your side, she had had more. And now you’d torn that away from her too, and though she wanted with every raging fiber of her being to be able to prove to you, to everyone, that she didn’t need anyone’s help to achieve that sort of life, she knew that, with you gone, reverting back to her old ways was damn near inevitable. Her jaw clenched at the thought, and she bit back a growl at the pain spreading in her chest.

Fuck this. I need a drink.

She let her hand fall from the doorknob to the now empty hotel room and made her way to the liquor counter at the Dugout Inn. Her expression drove away any potential for conversation as she sat at her stool, knocking back her full glass of whiskey. Even Vadim had stayed quiet, his usual bawdy personality remained muted as he poured her another glass and set it on the counter in front of her.

Even the bittersweet taste of her own reckless self-enablement couldn't expel the burning poison that had settled in her gut since her discovery that you had left her alone. And although she didn't have a single fucking clue what she was going to do next, that didn't seem to be what bothered her, as the whiskey began to cloud her mind and her judgement. No, it wasn't what she was going to do, it was what you were going to do. Where would you go without her? Alright, fine, you'd had your way with her, used her for your pleasure and then ran, but where to? And why do I care so damn much? A small voice asked her in the back of her mind. She decided not to grace its inquiry with a conscious answer.

Instead, she rose from her stool, slammed down a handful of caps on the counter, and half expected Vadim to ask where the room payment was, but he just smiled as he slid his hand over the pile of tin and drew it closer to him, to stash it away behind the bar. It didn't matter that Cait had no idea where she was going, she just had to leave this place. The alcohol that was meant to distract her, to numb the throbbing ache in her chest, only seemed to enhance her pain as her over exaggerated emotions surrounding the night the two of you had shared came pouring to the front of her mind. She was pissed. But not at you anymore. Was it herself? Why would she be pissed at herself? It's not like it was her fault you decided to fucking leave… Or...

Cait shook her head vigorously, pausing at the exit into Diamond City as she tried to straighten her crooked thoughts. Was it something I did? Is that why you left? Was I… not good enough? Too good? Too rough? Too unemotional? God, she sounded so whiney and insecure. Felt so insecure, so vulnerable, so guilty, so filthy.

Still trapped in her troubling thoughts, Cait attempted to finally leave the inn, letting the door slam shut behind her as she set off brusquely towards the gate leading out to the Commonwealth. She hardly noticed the body trailing her, splitting off from the crowd in the city center, and following her at an aggressive pace akin to her own. When the hand grasped at her shoulder, she almost turned around swinging, prepared to knock the teeth out of whoever decided it was a decent idea to fucking touch her right now. But her fist stilled in its clenched position beside her body, as her forest eyes widened in surprise at the person standing in front of her.

You?

You…

You!

Instead of swinging her prepared fist directly into your face, she brought up both arms, shoving them forward harshly against your shoulders, forcing you a few feet backwards, likely bruising you in the process.

"Fuck off, Sole." Was all she could manage before she turned away, back towards the gate. What the hell was she supposed to make of this?! You were gone. But now you were here? It doesn't matter now, because you could never take back the way you made her feel when she woke up alone in that dingy fucking hotel room.

"Hey!" She heard you call from behind, but she pressed on, even as your footsteps echoed behind her.

"Cait, wait! Just hold on a second. Where are you going?" Even when words failed you, it seemed the stubbornness she admired so much prevailed, as you gruffly wrenched her to the side, pulling her into the alcove behind the Publick Occurrences building.

"I can explain."

Cait wrenched her arm from your grasp, attempting to turn away, her emerald eyes blazing as they refused to acknowledge you.

"Cait, please. I swear, I was coming right back. I wasn't going to just--" you tried to explain, but she silenced you with her searing look as her head lashed towards you once more.

"I thought I told you to fuck off. Ya can't justify this shite to me, Sole. I know what the hell you were playin’ at. You fucking used me, and if that's all ye kept me round for, then you can just leave me alone. Ye got what ye wanted, didn't ya?” Your mouth hung open as you waited to get a word in, but the redhead continued, a menacingly somber expression creasing the lines of her face, “At least the assholes that used me before did it because I was their slave. You actually had me thinkin' you cared about me.” She said quietly, her gaze falling to the floor as the weight of her realization fell upon her.

“Well, you can forget I was ever even here. I'm done." Her eyes snapped back to yours before she went to turn away from you once again.

You were rendered momentarily speechless by her accusations. You wondered how the hell she couldn't know how you felt about her, especially after last night. You thought you'd made it pretty damn clear.

You didn't speak, you needed to use action now, as she started towards the gate, you reached out your hand, grasping firmly at her upper arm and wrenching her towards you. Into you. And even as she tried to pull away, to tear herself from your firm grip, you pulled her in for a kiss. It was sloppy, your teeth clacked together painfully and your mind began to demand why you'd done it at all, but as you pulled away from it quickly, you knew why. As Cait recovered from the surprise contact, you finally managed to get a few words in.

"I do care about you." You told her, your forceful hold on her arm giving way to a more gentle, but still unyielding, touch. "I wasn't trying to leave you. I had to speak to Arturo about that mod I wanted to get for your shotgun, remember? He said we had to do it before he opened, but you were still asleep. I-- I didn't want to wake you. I was coming right back, Cait. I would never leave you, never use you like that. I'm not like them, I could never-- I just, God, do you really think I could do that to you?" Cait's eyes met your own, the emerald fires in their depths wavering to smoldering coals as she saw the hurt shining in your gaze. Your upturned brows, the concern etched into your features, your soft touch on her arm being pulled away slowly; Cait could see the pain in your every movement, the pain at her accusation, and the pain at realizing what little she thought of herself.

Even just a moment ago, her answer would have been different, but at the desperation in you eyes, your will for her to see the truth behind your words, she couldn't bring herself to say what her mind wanted her to. What, after so many years of abuse and horror and mistrust, it had defaulted to saying in the event that anyone could actually tell her they cared for her. Her mind wanted to deny your confession the same way it denied any kind words that were directed towards her, in order to protect her heart from another brutal beating, but this time, it was her heart that seemed to prevail.

"No." She said softly, "I guess I didn't think ye could do that to me. Can't ya see? That's what made it hurt so damn much. I never thought you'd do that shite to me. And then, when I woke up an you were gone, I just… It just didn’t make any fuckin’ sense." She brought a hand up to wipe at her face, maybe to hide the lower lip that began to tremble at her words. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t you even think about it, ya damn baby. Cait tore her hand away, looking to you for some kind of response as she tried to harden her expression once more.

“I’m so sorry, Cait." You told her, taking one of her hands in your own to punctuate everything you had to say, "It’ll never happen again. I swear. I never want to hurt you ever again.”

The brawler felt a lightness in her chest at your words, words that she had never heard anyone say to her before, as you promised something so alien to her ears that she almost thought she had heard you wrong. She felt her heartbeat pick up as her eyes met yours again, the fire all but subdued as the weight of what you’d said sunk in. You promised to never hurt me... She didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something.

“Yeah? Well, it had better not happen again.” You grinned at that, releasing a breath of amusement and relief as Cait's own half-smile played at her lips. “Alright lassie/lad, care fer a drink? I think I might need another after all this.” She pulled her hand from your grasp and encircled your shoulders with her arm as she started off towards the Dugout Inn once again.

“Another?” You asked, brows raised, and the woman beside you just chuckled.

Curie:

     Goose prickles peppered uncomfortably over Curie’s exposed skin as a chill ran through her body. Being cold was a sensation that she was still quite unused to; however, even from her limited experience, she had to say, she wasn’t a fan. Curie let out a soft whine as she shifted beneath the thin blanket that snaked around her body, reaching out one arm to slide over the mattress in search of you, and your warmth.

“Mon Dieu?” She ventured softly, eyes still half closed as she peered around the hills of fabric upon the mattress. Sitting up, Curie rubbed at her sleep-filled eyes, still groggy from her hours of rest. Yet another human tendency that I must become more accustomed to. Her hands dropped to her lap as she turned her head to either side, eyebrows creasing together in confusion at the realization that she was alone.

“Sole?” She called, her uncertainty making her voice higher than usual. Perhaps you have gone to relieve yourself, as humans often tend to do after sleeping... Curie stretched her arms upwards before gathering the covers around her, effectively cocooning herself atop your bed, and sat waiting for you to return. Her eyes moved slowly as she took in the room around her. She had hardly gotten a good look last night, and before this, she had never been here before. At least, had never been in your room, but from what she could see in the dim light, it was pretty similar to the others. Curie thought that she never would return to Vault 81, considering the amount of time she had spent here, she figured she had had her fill of the place, but when the radiation storm hit, and the vault was the closest shelter you could think of, she couldn’t argue with the logic of the two of you waiting out the storm here. And she was glad she hadn’t tried. If she had insisted on taking shelter elsewhere, who knows what would have happened? You could have developed radiation sickness, or encountered some form of hostilities, or been stuck wandering and searching for shelter elsewhere all night long! But you hadn’t, no, the two of you had instead done other things all night long.

Curie's spine tingled as she noticed her heart skip a beat in her chest, and she felt her eyes crinkle up as she grinned, clutching the bed sheets tightly in her hands at the thought of the night you two had shared. The way your soft, sweet lips had pressed to hers, giving way to a cacophony of glorious, and thrillingly unfamiliar sensations. She recalled a gentleness, a sort of calm before the storm; dipping her toe into a pool of water, before wading in up to her knees, only to delve straight into the swirling, tumbling sea without a second glance back to the shore.

She had wanted, more than anything, to experiment in such a way with you, but she had been so unsure with how to proceed. So, when you had pressed your lips to hers gently in the night, and whispered that you wanted to do with her what she had been dreaming of since she first laid her human eyes upon you, Curie could barely contain her enthusiasm. All she wanted now was to be close to you once more, to discuss all that she had learned last night. About herself, and about you; but not because she wished to document it. No, this was not for research purposes, as she had once thought it would be, for there was nothing clinical about what the two of you had done together. At least, not in Curie’s eyes. To her, it was much, much more than a science. It was a feeling. It was… more, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but something that made her stomach drop and her heart leap in her chest. Is it… could it be what they call… love?

It felt like hours that Curie was sitting there on the bed, awaiting your return. The time was comparable to the near 200 years she had spent alone on the other side of this very same vault. The synth found herself feeling conflicted about a number of things in this instance. She wasn't sure how she felt about Vault 81 anymore. She thought she couldn't stand the place before; however, last night she wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world, but now, she couldn't wait to leave this place and go out to find you. She felt as though, if she stayed, she would be unable to leave once again, held here in this spot for another couple centuries; and maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if you were here with her, but… That was yet another item on her agenda of conflicting emotions to consider. Here Curie sat, completely alone, feeling as though she may be in love for the first and only time in her existence and you were just… gone. This was arguably the most important discovery she had ever made, and she wanted nothing more than for you to be here to help her make sense of this breakthrough of hers. Curie felt as though she had finally reached the level of inspiration required to achieve something great in the field of science, and it was all because of you. But she was still… confused? She couldn't imagine your reason for leaving, had she done something wrong? She had never done anything like this before, so it wouldn't be entirely surprising if she hadn't been particularly skilled in the acts of intimacy, but she certainly had felt good enough… had you not? Or perhaps this was customary for people to do after their first time being together in such a way? If that was the case, Curie would need an explanation as to why it had to be this way. Why you had to be gone when she felt she needed to be near you so urgently.

At that moment, Curie decided she needed to get out of this room, to look for you, yes, but also to prove to herself that she could, in fact, leave any time that she wished. To prove to herself that she wasn't going to be imprisoned here again. Curie sucked in a breath as she uncovered her bare body and exposed her skin to the chill of the recycled vault air. Quickly, she found her garments, some scattered on the floor, others wrapped in the mess of covers on the bed; and her theory regarding your disappearance was further confirmed as she found none of your own clothes in the places you had left them last night. She released a shaky breath, mumbling incoherently to herself as she often did in stressful situations, as she packed her bag in preparation to leave the vault. When she went to reach for the laser pistol that you had gifted her when she had become a synth, she noticed something that didn't quite add up. Your bag was still near the door… so perhaps, you hadn't left the vault after all? Curie's heart leaped in her chest, and in that next moment, she had dropped her travel bag, and was quickly moving towards the door that led out into the common area of the vault. As the doors slid to a close behind her, Curie's head whipped from side to side, aqua eyes passing over the monochrome hallways as she sought you out, searching for a 111 rather than an 81 among the sea of blue suits. Her eyes came to rest toward the elevator as she heard it grinding downwards, and she started towards it expectantly at the sound, before pausing abruptly when she heard her name being called from behind.

Her head swung back around to see you jogging towards her from the far end of the vault, a flush at your cheeks and a small smile decorating your sweet lips.

"And where are you running off to?” You said as you reached the synth, “You couldn't possibly leave me after--"

"Mon cheri! I was missing you this morning!" Curie's words echoed loudly off the steel walls surrounding the two of you as her excitement forced the words from her mouth at an unreasonable volume for your close proximity. Her relief at seeing you left her utterly unashamed at the blatant enthusiasm she had for your return. So much so, that she was even feeling bold enough to close the space between the two of you, her arms wrapping tightly around you as she buried her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your comforting and familiar scent. You only just had time to return her embrace before she pulled away, her arms unraveling around your neck as she brought both hands up to caress your face. Her bright eyes seemed to glitter as they peered deeply into your own, her elated expression infectious as her thumbs stroked over your cheeks gently. Curie opened her mouth, as though she were about to speak, but when your gaze fell to rest upon her parted lips, she couldn't help but lean forward until she felt your mouth on her own. The kiss was sweet and soft, expelling Curie's chill as the contact warmed her from the inside out. As you pulled away slowly, still a little baffled by the sudden contact, you opened your eyes in time to notice her fluttering lashes and pink dusted cheekbones as a flustered grin spread onto her face.

"What timing you have, mon amour," she said, eyes still locked to yours, "I so urgently felt the need to speak to you, for I have just made zhe most brilliant discovery!"

Piper:

     Piper had never had a dream like that before. It had felt so real. It left her flustered and out of breath as she stirred groggily among the blankets in the loft of her Diamond City home. 

She could still feel the warmth of another's skin pressed against hers, taste the salt of sweat on her lips, feel the shuddering jolt of her pleasure shooting up her spine. It all felt so genuine, so memorable, it was as though… No. It couldn’t be… with you? 

As Piper dipped into her post-slumber conscious reality, she felt a distinct soreness in her body that nearly confirmed her sub-conscious assumption. But she had to know for sure. Piper imagined she would have to wrench open her eyes in order to verify her prediction, but as she took a deep breath in through her nose, and your familiar scent, accompanied by the distinct musty smell that happened to permeate the room after such activities occurred made itself known, she couldn’t have kept her eyes closed if she had tried. 

They flew open as an excited squeak escaped her, and she pulled the covers off from where they obstructed her needy hazel-green gaze. 

“Blue?” She tried, speaking quietly, but unable to keep the elation from her voice. “Pssst, hey, you awake yet?” Her hands gathered up the blankets beside her, drawing them away from where she assumed they were covering your sleeping form. But they just kept coming, she pulled and pulled, gathering more fabric between her fingers, spilling the material up over her own body until the mattress was revealed. The empty mattress. She cocked an eyebrow at the sight, a question she silently posed to the barren space where you were meant to be. Where her subconscious and conscious self both had practically guaranteed you would be. Now, the reporter was confused. 

Deciding that this was perhaps not the most ideal angle for exploration, she raised up into a sitting position, flattening her wild hair with one hand as the other kept the covers drawn up around her. 

“Blue?” She questioned a little louder. Maybe you’re downstairs… fixing breakfast? It wouldn’t surprise her. You had always been thoughtful in that way, always seeming to look out for everyone but yourself. Damn that was sexy. Piper couldn’t remember the last person she had felt this way about. Maybe there wasn’t one. No, there really was no one like her Blue; you were the closest friend she’d ever had, you trusted her, you always believed her, believed in her, you spoke to her like a person, like a friend, like someone you genuinely cared about; not like a nosy little reporter, or a pain in your ass, which is how pretty much everyone else in the world decided she was supposed to be talked to. The more she thought about it, the more it became clear to her. There wasn’t anyone like you. It was literally just you, and the fact that you and her had been together in such a way last night? Unbelievable. Incredible, dreamlike, fantastic, and perfect, yes, but completely unbelievable. Wasn’t she too overbearing? Too loud? Too stubborn, and fiery, and hot-headed? 

From the moment she met you, she thought you could only ever see her in a certain way, as the scrappy, over-emotional, noisy reporter who had gotten herself locked out of the damn gate to the damn place that she freaken lived in. You had helped her, sure, and that was amazing, but she thought you’d never want to see her again after the encounter. However, as it turns out, she had been wrong. Mercifully, she had been wrong. Piper had never imagined that you would take her up on her offer to interview you, but when Nat had pulled you through the door, a firm grip locked around your wrist as she dragged you forward, and you had smiled at her, and agreed enthusiastically to answer her questions, she couldn’t help but flash her own silly grin over at you, desperate to try and hold back the joyous little giggle that threatened to escape her lips. 

Even now, still seated upon the bed, Piper smiled to herself as she poured over her memories with you. Everything was so vivid when you were around. Black and white, white and black, the occasional grey and off-white, that was all the reporter ever seemed to see in her life, but with you… everything was vibrant. The world wasn’t quite so corrupt and unforgiving, the people around her weren’t so dismissive, so closed off, even when the weather seemed too cold to bear, the light in your eyes would warm her from the inside out, the sky was never a muted tone when she was with you, it was always a bright cacophony of warm and cool colors that melded together to form a perfect blue. And the brilliance, the dizzying, lucid radiance of the night the two of you had shared had put all other colors she could possibly imagine to shame. 

Her whole body suddenly felt so warm at the sentiment, and she couldn’t stand to be bundled in blankets any longer. She had been too busy wrapped up in her own memories to even register that you hadn’t responded to her calling for you, but she shrugged it off, assuming maybe that she simply hadn’t heard your response. Piper climbed out of bed, letting the covers fall unceremoniously onto the mattress as she quickly grabbed clean clothes from her dresser. She dressed rapidly, the voice in the back of her mind posing a question that her consciousness didn’t want to acknowledge. Instead, she thought about how funny it was that she felt so embarrassed about you potentially seeing her in the nude; since, surely, you had gotten quite the eyeful last night.

But it was dark then! She thought, nodding and chuckling to herself as she prepared to make her way downstairs. At the top, looking downward, Piper paused. Listening for any movement from below, she was almost tempted to call for you again. But something caused her to hesitate. It’s that voice again, the one that wanted to ask… No, I’m not going to think about that.

The reporter forced herself to take the first step, the wood creaking in protest below her feet as she descended to the first floor. The sound was almost like a warning to her, encouraging her to turn back the way she had come, cursing her for taking a step towards the potential disappointment that awaited her at the bottom of the stairs.

Piper tried to seem perky, but her enthusiasm was waning with every moment she spent away from you; and as she peered around the ground floor, she realized that that pesky little question she had tried to push away from her conscious self was finally answered. You were gone.

The woman’s heart sank. Her brain suddenly pelting her with question after question as to why you could have done this. When had you decided that she wasn’t what you wanted? Had she been so horrible that she completely reversed the feelings you told her you had for her? Had you never cared for her in the first place? Had you just lied to get her in bed with you? If that were the case, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see you again. No, she was sure it would just end in a shouting match and her potentially trying to tear your pretty eyes from your useless skull. So, she… couldn’t do that, no, people thought she was crazy enough as is. But she is a reporter… and this, what you did to her, the way you made her feel, the way you used her body and toyed with her emotions, that was a crime. She had written about crimes countless times, she could do it again... But would that even be enough to make her feel less... Angry? Hurt? Idiotic?

Argh, she was so furious! With herself, with the situation, with you, but now she wasn’t sure if what she thought was your reason for leaving was even the truth, maybe she was imagining it. What if you were out there somewhere feeling hurt like she was? Or, feeling unheard or, or neglected? She didn’t know why you would be feeling that way, but there’s always two sides to a story, and she had to think that you would have had an at least halfway decent explanation for your actions. 

What about last night though? Didn’t you feel the same way she felt? She didn’t see how you could feel any differently.  

She could only wonder at all of her rhetorical questions that were begging to be answered, but just not by her. Maybe if she found you and requested an interview again… Hmmm.

Piper didn’t know if it would work, didn’t know if she could even find you, if you would agree to an interview at all, but it was a plan, at least; and for her to know the truth of the situation, it was definitely worth a try. 

The reporter thought up her questions as she gathered together her things, trying to come up with inquiries that didn’t seem too one-sided, or confrontational, or passive aggressive; but other thoughts kept interrupting her. At some point, she knew Nat would be home from her friend’s house, she should probably wash the sheets on her mattress, she hadn’t eaten anything yet, there was no food in the house, she still needed to proofread her next story, ugh! This was not what she needed today! You had always been so supportive of her, of the paper, of her taking care of Nat, of… just her in general, her as a person, as a reporter, as a friend, and traveling companion. You had been supportive last night, had let her be vulnerable, and confident in herself, and free of any judgement. You’d made her feel good about herself in a way she never had before. And yet, you fucking left. God, it made her crazy, because she just didn’t understand. It didn’t add up, all of the evidence, the important details at the front of her mind all pointed to a different sort of conclusion. One that ended with you in the dang bed next to her the morning after you had made her feel like she could write an epic poem detailing every blissful feeling you had elicited in her. And she didn’t even write poetry!

By the time her bag was packed, Piper’s stomach was growling, she was tired again, tired and hungry and angry and sad, and every negative base emotion a person could feel. But she forced herself up the couple of steps it took to get to the exit door, reaching out her hand for the doorknob, she prepared to go out and find you. To find you, and then question you. 

In the next instance, the door was pushing her back down the stairs gruffly as it opened directly into her.  

“Ow! Hey!” She said as she was thrown backwards by the impact. Piper gruffly reached up her hands, trying to adjust her hat back onto her head properly as the body in front of her moved through the door. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Piper! Are you alright?” 

Piper paused with her hands still over her head, and looked up quickly at the sound of your voice. At first, she thought it had been Nat who decided to beat her with her own door, but, as you stood in the doorway, an apologetic smile on your face, and a shopping bag in your hand, she couldn’t deny the fact that it really was you who had just barged into her. 

You didn’t leave. You weren’t gone. She thought giddily, impulsively throwing her arms around your shoulders in her relief. For just a moment, her questions and anger could wait.

“Aw, Piper, I wasn’t gone that long. But I missed you too.” you giggled at her, drawing your own encumbered arms around her to reciprocate to the best of your abilities, “And I’m glad you forgive me for the concussion I just gave you.” 

“Where were you?” Piper asked, almost aggressively as she pulled away, still standing close enough to keep you trapped between her and the door. 

“I just had to grab some supplies from the mark--”

“And you couldn’t wait until I woke up? Do you know the kind of state you had me in this morning?! Geeze, Blue, you really are clueless sometimes, huh?”

“No! I’m sorry I was gone, but I… Here, I brought home some breakfast. I wanted to surprise you.”

You held up the bag in your hand, showcasing the clear outline of soup containers and the distinct mark of Takahashi. 

“O--oh, well, that was… um, that was really nice of you, Blue. I…”

You just smiled at her and her apologetic expression, beginning your descent past Piper and down the couple of stairs towards the couch where the two of you could enjoy your breakfast.  

“It’s okay Piper. I’m sorry too.” You said looking back at her as you placed the bag down on the coffee table. And your companion just grinned.

[cloburon]

Maybe This Time (I'll win)

Summary:

Martin feels more than enough for the both of them, meanwhile Jon is sort of.. Fumbling in the dark. He can’t See anymore which is a blessing and a curse. Figuring out how to function without the eye has been the most daunting thing on the planet. He doesn’t know how to communicate feelings now that he can’t tell what is going on in Martin’s head.

Or rather- Somewhere Else is a difficult place to be if your name is Jonathan Sims and you only know how to run on adrenaline and fear. Luckily there's things like couples therapists to help him navigate a new world with his boyfriend.  https://archiveofourown.org/works/36401626/chapters/90758989 (Rest of the first chapter below the cut) 

The therapist’s office is nice, a stark difference from what Jon would assume a therapist’s office to look at. He knows he isn’t exactly being the most fair. Obviously his only experience with a therapist was when he was six and had just lost his mother. If he closes his eyes he can still remember the musty scent of the sepia toned room, trapped in the prior decade in hideous browns and yellows.  A big squashy leather couch and brown shag carpet. But this office is different. It’s overwhelmingly bright and cheerful. He's sat upon a sun yellow couch with Martin’s hand on his thigh, a gentle reminder he’s there. Jon tries not to focus on the fact that Martin’s hand nearly fits around him perfectly. But he needs something else to focus on, he doesn’t do therapy very well. Never has. When he first tried it when he was six he was too young to comprehend what grief even was, or why his mother wasn’t coming back from the hospital. At 28 years old he’s relying on Martin’s spun story of an insane ex boyfriend of Jon’s that made him cut off friends and family and they’re in dire need of help with communication. That’s what they’re working on at least. Jon filled in sparse details on the paperwork about being controlled and manipulated, things that made the story Martin created feel more real. It’s not the truth, maybe that’s why he’s less than excited about the concept. He’s willing to try though, because couples therapy might be the only thing available in this new world that can fix Jon and Martin. They’ve struggled these past few months together. There’s no more big goal to achieve, no more apocalypse to solve, and certainly no great quest. There’s only living, and figuring out how to live together. Which is bloody damn difficult. Jon loves Martin. He loves him in ways he can’t even describe, but he’s stubborn. And ever since they’ve arrived there’s been this anger simmering under the surface that Jon doesn’t know how to deal with. So they fight, often. Jon hates it, he hates it, hates it, hates it. But it’s the consequence of his own actions. The consequence of asking Martin to kill him, he deserves Martin’s anger tenfold. “Jon.” He stirs from his thoughts, looking up into the bright eyes of their therapist, Sheila Brown. She’s a nice woman. He and Martin spent hours looking up a couples therapist that is also LGBTQA friendly and she was highly recommended by three separate forums. She seems like the eager sort, eyes full of compassion and a red stained smile of pleasantry on her round face. “Sorry, I spaced out for a second. What was the question?” Sheila nods, writing something down in her paisley notebook. This is only their intake appointment, they’ll get into problem solving next week. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for Jon to just tune out of the entire situation. Martin squeezes his thigh for support. “How has it been for you since you’ve returned to London?” Jon blinks once, “Sorry?” “I mean- how do you feel? Are you still afraid? Martin mentioned paranoia but you’ve been quite silent this entire time. I do want you to know that you’re safe here. Nothing said will leave these four walls, therapist’s honor,” she makes a mock salute with a heavily ringed hand. How does he feel? He hasn’t felt much of anything which seems to be the issue. Martin feels more than enough for the both of them, meanwhile Jon is sort of.. Fumbling in the dark. He can’t See anymore which is a blessing and a curse. Figuring out how to function without the eye has been the most daunting thing on the planet. He doesn’t know how to communicate feelings now that he can’t tell what is going on in Martin’s head. And it’s killing their relationship, he reminds himself. It’s why he’s sitting on this yellow couch, staring blankly at stained glass wind chimes and a host of decorative nick-nacks spread across an open white desk.

Jon clears his throat, “I don’t really know to be honest. It’s been.. Hard going from a life riddled with adrenaline and fear to something more normal. I don’t uh- well, I suppose that’s the issue.” Sheila hums loudly. Martin’s grip tightens around his thigh and Jon almost wants to pull his leg away to cross it over his other and sit a bit more comfortably. If he curls up enough he’ll feel less exposed. Less like an open and vulnerable thing and more like the man who lied about being ten years older than he was in a desperate effort to be accepted and valued.

“I think that’s understandable given what you’ve both been through,” she says sweetly, “I’ll make up a proper plan for you two but I think we should start with something. We do have fifteen minutes left, let’s see,” she drums a sparkly pen against her notebook, catching her bottom lip in her teeth, “You know what works for some people?” “What?” Martin croaks softly. There’s tears in his voice. Jon leans in until his shoulder hits his. Martin sniffles wetly, scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Jon hopes this is just a part of the bit he’s putting on to secure their story, hopes he isn’t the reason Martin is crying this time. “Setting some goals and boundaries. What do you want to achieve together as a couple or rather-” she clasps her hands together, “If you could think of one thing you want the other to do, what would it be? It can be personal or.. Relationship wise- but something both of you can agree will be beneficial individually and together.” Jon drums his fingers against the arm of the couch and looks at Martin. Martin returns his look with a smug smile on his face. Far too smug, it makes Jon’s skin crawl. He wants to kiss that look right off his face. “Martin, you look like you have something in mind.” “I do, actually,” he sniffs a little too proudly for Jon’s comfort, “Jon I want you to quit smoking.” Jon inhales sharply. He had been relying on that a little too much lately. If they were yelling for too long he’d step outside for five or ten minutes to smoke. One time he managed to chain smoke his way through two packs because Martin had been particularly pissy and Jon didn’t want to say something he might regret. Jon does that sometimes. Georgie used to call it self-sabotage, if he has too much of a good thing he starts turning it into a bad thing and well.. Here he is, in couples therapy because Martin is too good. Jon is a sick sort of poison. He ruins people. It was an issue before the apocalypse that apparently persisted into this brand new world. A normal couple probably would’ve thrown in the towel and called it quits already. Jon is painfully aware that he is a difficult person to love, but he also knows that Martin has questionable taste in men and unfortunately loves him too much to let him go. Jon also can’t imagine his life without Martin in it anymore. He’s not sure what he’d do if they broke up. They’ll figure it out, they always do. “What about you, Jon? What would you like Martin to do?” Jon finds a smile crawling its way onto his face as he looks Martin in the eye. Maybe it’s low- maybe not. He had given it thought, and in Jon’s opinion he thinks Martin would thrive in an academic environment. It wasn’t fair that he had to drop out because of his mother. But it’s never too late, they have time now- real time, not the stasis of the Apocalypse they fought their way out of. So Jon says, “I want you to resit your GCSE’s,” he tries to ignore how quickly Martin’s expression falls, Jon continues with, “I think it might do you a lot of good to get it out of the way and maybe try some college courses. Little steps, obviously.” “That’s.. Fair,” Martin tries to smile. It’s a ghost on his face. Jon puts his hand atop his and squeezes. “So you’ll stop smoking, and I’ll resit my GCSE’s?” “I think that’s a fair trade-off,” Jon smiles back at him, planting a kiss against his cheek. “What do you think, Sheila?” Sheila beams at them both, “I think it’s an excellent start to focus on personal goals together. We’ll check back next week to see how things are going and I’ll present you with the plan. How does that sound?” “Sounds good,” they both say at the same time. Jon pulls them both up. “Thank you,” Martin tells her on the way out. Jon nods along, wrapping his hands against the warm curve of his strong bicep. They walk out of the office like that- a poor mimicry of a happy couple. They’re happy sometimes. Jon just focuses on the negative a little too much sometimes. They can fix this together, he’s sure of it. ~*~ Jon smokes his last cigarette while sitting on the balcony of their otherwise modest flat. Somewhere Else had been kind enough to preserve their identities up until the Magnus Institute, and Jon has always had somewhat of a savings. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Martin why he does, or why he gets a monthly check deposited on the first of every month like clockwork. But it’s enough for rent, bills, and small pleasures. He also didn’t tell Martin that his old flat was still intact. Instead he spent an afternoon while Martin was in and out of doctor’s appointments selling everything he owned. It didn’t take long, even if it crushed him. A lifetime’s worth of books were sold off and the money was tucked away. Furniture gone with it. He even managed to get his security deposit back under the pretense of having a family emergency.

And just like that he managed to erase one small part of his old life. Smeared away the place he once tried to build a home in favor of building a brand new one with Martin. He misses his old flat sometimes. It was in a shit area, sure, but it had been his. But now this is his, a small flat in a nicer area of London that sets Martin’s nerves at ease until they can figure out how to fit themselves into the big picture. If they last that long, Jon thinks demurely. He takes a long drag. They might not last through Jon’s withdrawals, or maybe they will. Martin’s always loved having something to take care of. Maybe he can handle it better than Jon can. If he suggested it then he imagines Martin must have done some precursory research into the ins and outs of how addictions work, especially one as common as nicotine. At least Jon has experience in trying to quit. He can mentally prepare himself for the headaches, cravings, and state of general disarray. That doesn’t mean he can handle it well, it just means he knows what’s coming and he knows it’s going to be hell for himself and Martin. “Are you enjoying it?” Martin appears behind him, a warm hand at the small of his back. Jon exhales slowly. “Yes, actually, I am,” he tries not to smile, “I know it’s a nasty habit.” Martin hums, “It is. But I’m proud of you for quitting, it’s for us, you know? I don’t want to keep waking up to you coughing your lungs out every morning for the rest of our lives.” Jon rolls his eyes, “Yes, thank you. I’m proud of you too, by the way. I wasn’t trying to throw you under the bus but I thought that- I thought it would be a good step to try and get a ‘real job,’” He tosses up the air quotes and all, “No more lying on your CV.” “I know,” he laughs softly, a kiss pressed to the side of his head, “I know. But we’re in this together, yeah?” he takes Jon’s hand in his, strokes his thumb over his knuckles. “Yeah,” Jon smiles, “Together.

[lalainajanes]

For Klarosummerbingo! This square was "suspicious ranch hand"

Leave The Roads, Take The Trails

Two years after her mother’s passing, about twelve years after her father left, livestock begin to go missing.

The first month it’s just one, a calf that’s been struggling. They might not have noticed, except Bonnie’s been checking up on the calf every morning. Initially, Caroline’s not too concerned. She rides out with Enzo, finds a trail of blood that leads to a sagging fence, blood droplets leading into the woods. They fix it, and she assumes the problem’s solved.

Except the next month, they lose a yearling, a cow, and three of her most productive chickens. Caroline begins to grow concerned. The ranch sustains them, but she’s working hard to turn more of a profit, well aware that the salaries she’s paying Enzo and Bonnie are meager, that the temporary workers she relies on in the spring and during the harvest are far from the best of the best. Her savings are thin, and even a medium-sized disaster would obliterate them.

Caroline cleans her mother’s old shotgun, rides into town for another box of ammo, internally wincing as she passes over her coins. Every night for two weeks, she patrols, a herding dog or two at her side, ears straining for anything out of the ordinary.

The nights are quiet, cold, and uneventful.

Most mornings, she almost falls asleep into her porridge. Bonnie and Enzo try to make her go to bed, but Caroline’s not about to shirk the morning chores. The ranch bears her name, and it’s her responsibility. She grabs a nap in the afternoon, insists that she’s fine, even when her eyes are gritty and her body feels heavy with exhaustion. In the early evenings, while there’s still light, she and Enzo work on reinforcing the fences.

After two weeks with nary an issue, Caroline decides the patrols are no longer necessary and eases back into her routine.

After a particularly great night’s sleep, she bounds into the kitchen, feeling energized even though it’s her turn to make breakfast – her most hated chore. Enzo’s just coming in the backdoor, hat in hand, face grim. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, damp streaks on his jeans, which means he’d washed up in one of the rainwater barrels before coming inside.

Caroline stops abruptly while braiding back her hair. “What happened?”

“Lost a bull this time. Two of the lambs.”

Her teeth clench, and she has the urge to slam her boot heel into the floor as if she were still a child and not a grown woman of twenty-six. Caroline takes in a breath through her teeth. “Damn it; I should never have stopped patrolling.”

Enzo smiles sympathetically, tries to make a joke, “It was a full moon last night. Maybe you’ve got a local werewolf.”

Caroline doesn’t laugh. She stiffens, eyes widening, cursing her stupidity. Her father will be disappointed if he ever hears about this; he’d insisted she learn to track the moon phases when she was young. It’s a habit that’s waned.

Her father had left upon reading about a series of suspicious deaths in Chicago. Said he’d be back once he eliminated the brazen vampire, but he’d found another soon after. Caroline’s accepted that her father likes being a vampire hunter more than a rancher.

If she’s honest, she rather enjoys her lack of parental judgment.

Her complacency comes down to the fact that she’d been told that there hadn’t been a werewolf in the area since the last Lockwood had picked up and set out for the city.

The gossip mill in town would have gone wild if a founding family member had returned so it can’t be Tyler or his father or uncle. That doesn’t mean a stranger hasn’t recently moved or isn’t passing through.

Enzo interprets her shock differently, patting her arm to offer comfort. “It’ll be alright. We’ll put in some more work on the fences, yeah? Make them higher on the wooded side. Why don’t I take your turn at breakfast?”

She forces a smile, “Would you? I need to have a quick chat with Bon.”

If they’ve got a werewolf, it’ll be better if Bonnie explains to Enzo anyway. Enzo had been a drifter who’d shown up looking for a couple of weeks of work eight months ago. Caroline strongly suspects he’s stuck around so long for the pleasure of Bonnie’s company.

“Of course. She’s out with the horses. Don’t be too long, yeah? My pancakes are better hot.”

* * * * *

When Sheila Bennett had died, Bonnie had been left with little. Once Grams was buried, the debt collector’s filled their pockets. The crumbling house Bonnie had grown up in, a small patch of land, and nothing else. The Bennett homestead was adjacent to the Forbes’ land, and Grams had been helping with the Forbes’ animals for years, soothing sickness and healing wounds. Bonnie had been barely fourteen, with no other family, and Caroline’s mother had offered Bonnie a place in their home.

“Bon?” Caroline calls, walking into the barn.

“Back here!” she calls out, and Caroline makes her way to the farthest stall, finds Bonnie brushing out Persephone, her favorite mare. “You saw Enzo?” Bonnie asks when Caroline’s close enough that she no longer needs to shout.

“Yeah. Question, does he know that you’re a witch?”

Bonnie pauses, throws Caroline a look as if she’s insane to ask. “Of course not.”

“Why ‘of course not?’ You must know he’s stupid for you. You could probably tell him you needed his assistance in a naked moon ritual, and he’d be out of his pants before you finished your sentence.”

“I don’t do naked moon rituals.”

“I know that, but he doesn’t. Could be a good way to move on from those intimate fireside chats you two are so fond of.”

She’s teasing or trying to, but Bonnie’s expression remains serious. “I’m not going to tell him. We can’t afford for him to leave.”

It would be a struggle, but they’d make do. She and Bonnie had survived worse. “You mean you don’t want him to leave.”

Bonnie turns away, and Caroline follows, helping when Bonnie heaves a saddle off the wall. “He’s not Jeremy Gilbert,” Caroline says, quieter now. She can’t guarantee it, of course, but she suspects Enzo’s loyalty is a stubborn thing once given.

Bonnie doesn’t reply; Caroline decides to table the subject. Possibly until such a time when she can ply Bonnie with liquor and sweets, until she’s a little more loose-lipped. “Well. Turns out we might have a werewolf.”

Bonnie sighs, “I think so too.” She gives Persephone an affectionate pat, “I’ll ride out with you after breakfast and see if I can sense any trace of magic. Is there anything you can send Enzo to town for?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

A jangling rings out, causing Caroline to jump because they rarely bother with the dinner bell. She nudges Bonnie, then throws the saddle over Persephone’s back. “C’mon, let’s hurry up. Enzo offered to cover breakfast, and he obviously wants it appreciated.”

“He does cook better than either of us.”

“But we’re not going to tell him that; he’d be insufferable.”

Bonnie laughs, finally, and a bit of Caroline’s earlier good mood returns.

* * * * *

At the next full moon, Caroline’s prepared. She has her mother’s rifle and two revolvers her father had left behind, one loaded with silver bullets. It’s a contingency should the worst happen, and the werewolf gets close enough to hurt her. She’d rather not kill a person just because they happen to transform into a wolf once a month. They might be perfectly lovely otherwise.

She tucks a knife into her boot, straps on the rifle.

Enzo’s leaning against the water trough, watching her worriedly. “I still think you should stay here.”

Caroline rolls her eyes. “And I think that’s adorable, but I’m a better shot than you are. I’ll be fine.”

She’s taking the perimeter tonight, leaving Enzo and Bonnie to guard the house and the barn. Bonnie’s enchanted the bracelets Caroline wears under her leather coat. She’d picked up a signature last month and connected it to the jewelry. Bonnie’s spell should help point Caroline in the right direction.

She’s slightly annoyed at Enzo, suspects he doesn’t quite believe them about the werewolf. Bonnie has yet to confess she’s a witch, likely sensing the same thing and sinking deeper into her doubts about Enzo’s steadfastness. Bonnie’s withdrawn from Enzo, tends to flee when he enters a room. He’s grown moodier in response, and Caroline’s had the strong urge to smack some sense into him a time or two.

She still needs to get Bonnie drunk, too. Hopefully, she’ll solve the werewolf problem tonight, and then she can devote more attention to matchmaking.

Which is different than meddling, in Caroline’s expert opinion.

Caroline sets her foot into a stirrup once her weapons are accounted for and swings herself up into the saddle. Enzo’s arms are crossed, she’s tempted to tell him to stop pouting, but she knows he’s only worried about her. She smiles, settles in, “Don’t let any more of my animals get eaten, okay? And make sure Bonnie gets a decent dinner. She’s been working hard lately.”

Bon’s insisted on putting up additional protections. She hides it, but Caroline knows that’s exhausting.

Enzo nods, serious, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Hmm, I kinda like the sound of that. Maybe a little salute? Could be fun.”

He fights it but Caroline spies a small smile. “Don’t let it get to your head.” He hands her the bag she’d packed, taking the reigns while Caroline gets it situated. “Be careful out there, will you?”

“Promise. I’ll be back at first light.”

Possibly not alone, but she’s not going to tell Enzo that.

He’d only worry more.

* * * * *

The bracelet on her left arm warms first, and Caroline urges the horse in that direction. By the time she reaches the gate that opens into the forest, the bracelet’s practically humming. She’s not surprised; Bonnie had said the most potent traces of the werewolf had come from the area. Werewolves are, at least according to her father’s lessons, creatures of habit. Caroline turns the horse around, leading him to a patch of grass that should keep him occupied. She hops off, tying off the reigns so the horse won’t trip while he grazes. She unbuckles the saddlebags and walks back to the gate, hanging them on a fence post.

Then she grimaces, reaches in, and pulls out a hunk of beef that she would much rather be using for a hearty dinner. Caroline winds up and heaves it as far as she can, reaching in for another handful. Once the meat’s been thrown, she cleans her hands as best she can with a splash of water from her canteen and a handkerchief. She then sinks to her knees, propping her shotgun between the fence slats, and settles in to wait.

Bonnie’s magic warns her when the werewolf approaches, the metal on her wrist heating until it nearly hurts. Caroline rips it off and tenses, squinting into the darkness, taking careful, even breaths. She hears leaves rustle, underbrush crunching. She swallows a shocked noise when the wolf first lumbers out of the treeline.

She’d known it would be larger than the typical wolf but knowing is different than seeing. The werewolf is enormous.

Its fur is fairly pale, a sandy brown, making it easier to see under the moonlight.

Caroline’s next inhale is shaky, and she lets her finger rest on the shotgun’s trigger. The wolf eats the meat she’d provided, sitting down when it’s gone. Caroline’s muscles are starting to ache with the effort of staying so still.

Best case scenario, the wolf is satisfied with the meal she’d provided and lopes back into the forest. Then, Caroline can continue with her discreet inquiries in town. Three people have moved to town recently; a family’s taken up residence in the old Salvatore ranch. The werewolf must be among the newcomers; she’s just got to figure out the most likely suspect.

Tonight, luck is not on her side.

The wolf’s head tips up as he sniffs the air. Caroline hears hooves faintly, just behind her, much closer than they should be.

The wolf stalks closer, unmistakably hunting, and Caroline silently curses, carefully lining up her shot.

She catches the wolf’s shoulder just before it leaps, and she cringes at the high-pitched yelp of pain it emits. She fires another shot, wide this time, hitting a tree. It’s enough to scare the wolf away, and it retreats, limping into the forest.

Her horse nudges at her pack, and Caroline sighs, sitting down in a more comfortable position. She digs out an apple, takes a bite before offering it to her horse. “I hope you know; I just saved you from being dinner.”

The horse is unbothered, only concerned with his treat.

* * * * *

Once the last trace of the night sky recede, Caroline treks into the woods. She’s careful to keep her footsteps silent, has one pistol loosely clutched in her hand.

The one loaded with silver sits heavily at the small of her back. The bracelet guides her though she likely would have been able to track without it. She spots blood at a few points, a streak against a tree here, a few drops decorating the grass there, and there’s a distinct set of prints.

Guilt churns in Caroline’s stomach, but she tells herself her aim was good – she’d learned to shoot as soon as her hands were big enough, her mother had insisted she become even more proficient when Caroline had been a teenager. She’s beaten every boy her age in town at the summer fair, most of the men older than her too.

It had to have been a clean shot.

So caught up in her anxious musings, she almost misses the body in the clearing.

Caroline crouches low to the ground and tucked behind the trunk of a thick maple. She catches the relieved breath before it exits her mouth when she sees the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest.

A fairly nice one, not that she’s leering.

He looks like he’s resting, his hand clutched over his shoulder. There’s blood but not what Caroline thinks is a life-threatening amount. He must have healed some in werewolf form.

She hadn’t put much thought into this particular portion of her plan, something she regrets now. She’s confident he’s not a threat, naked and injured as he is, so she tucks the gun away.

Caroline stands, runs a hand over her hair, dislodging a few bits of leaves. She strides forward, no longer taking care to be sneaky. “Good morning!” she calls cheerfully as if they’re meeting at the market.

The man scrambles to a sitting position, dragging himself back with his uninjured arm. Caroline lifts her hands so he can see them, turning so he’s no longer in her line of sight. “Sorry!” she says, “didn’t mean to startle you. I did mean to shoot you, but I’m sorry for that too. You’ve already eaten too many of my animals.”

He clears his throat, “Miss,” he says, something stern in the tone even though his voice comes out a hoarse scratch, “What are you doing out here?”

She scoffs, “I should be asking you that. This is my land. Why are you on it? And without a stitch of clothing on?”

There’s a lengthy pause. “I assure you, there is a perfectly logical explanation.”

He’s not quick to supply it, and Caroline takes pity on him. She tosses her pack behind her in his general direction. “There’s clothes in there, clean handkerchiefs in the front pocket. You’re welcome to them.” He doesn’t reply, but she hears cloth rustling, assumes he’s taken her invitation. “Let me know when you’re decent.”

He makes a noise, soft and amused. His motions seem to hasten.

She’s relieved he seems willing to hear her out, at least. Or perhaps the blood loss has made him more pliable. Caroline suspects she knows who he is, but she’d rather not have to chase him down in town.

No need to invite gossip.

“You can turn around now.”

Caroline whirls. She’d filched the clothing from Enzo, and it hangs a bit on the stranger. He’s left several of the shirt’s buttons undone, has bunched up the linen she’d offered, and his hand presses it to his wound.

Katherine Pierce, who owns the saloon in town, had described one of the newcomers as “pompous but easy on the eyes” before talking up his physical charms. Her descriptions, many of them borderline lewd, fit this man to a tee.

“Klaus Mikaelson, I presume?”

His brows rise in surprise, “Correct. And you are?”

“Caroline Forbes. I own this land, the ranch to the east. And the livestock you’ve been snacking on for the last two months.”

His eyes narrow, shoulders straightening, and his gaze grows cool and dismissive. Caroline understands where ‘pompous’ had come from. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

She doesn’t try to hide her annoyed sigh. She grabs one of her revolvers, the weightier one. Caroline flips open the chamber and shakes out one of the silver bullets. “Catch,” she says, tossing it at Klaus’ face.

His hand flies up automatically, and he hisses in pain once his fist closes around the silver. He throws it aside, shaking his hand.

Her point made, Caroline stows the gun again. “You’re a werewolf. I’m fully aware of the existence of werewolves. Let’s move along to the real issues, shall we?”

Klaus doesn’t look happy about it, but he nods stiffly.

And because Caroline’s not a total monster, she offers and assurance first. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He doesn’t respond, but he seems in no hurry to leave, apparently intent on studying her person.

Caroline wishes she looked slightly more put together if she’s honest.

She tips her head in the direction she’d come from. “Why don’t we head back to my place? My friend Bonnie’s a witch; she’ll be able to make sure those wounds heal right up. I’ll even throw in breakfast.”

He appears mystified. “I’m a werewolf, love.”

“And? We’ve established that.”

“I’m dangerous.”

She laughs. Klaus remains unamused.

“I’ve got five more bullets that can kill you, another gun and a knife for good measure. You’re not even wearing shoes, and I can hear your stomach growling.”

“It’s improper. Your reputation…”

“Oh, that was tarnished ages ago,” Caroline informs him breezily. “Matt Donovan, have you met him? I think he’s the Sheriff’s Deputy now. I fell hard and fast for his pretty blue eyes when I was seventeen, and everyone knows about the time we were caught sneaking back into the church at the Founder’s Day picnic. My dress was horribly grass-stained. He bumbled through a marriage proposal the next day, but I let him down easy.”

Klaus blinks, mouth slightly ajar.

That may have been more information than he needed, but she’s forgotten how fun it is to be shocking. Caroline generally minds her manners in town and pours on her considerable charm so people will buy from her, or trade, with a minimum of fuss. It’s only at home that she can be free and genuinely herself.

“My parents were wildly eccentric,” Caroline continues, “so really, I had no chance with the snobbier townsfolk.”

Klaus opens his mouth like he’s going to offer another argument, and of course, he’s stubborn.

Caroline’s confident she’s more than a match in that department.

She spins away before he can say anything else. “We can do this again next month if you like, gunshot wound and all, probably. You’ve returned to the same spot three times. Seems like a pattern, doesn’t it?”

She hums a tune, meanders away like she has all the time in the world.

Caroline counts to four before she hears Klaus’ footsteps following her.

[gloomybabygirl]

{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist 

last part  *  next part

a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!

warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet 

timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke 

word count: 4k oops

songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)

summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission 

You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child. 

That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover. 

But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him. 

You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else. 

You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane. 

There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you. 

Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining  in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room. 

Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.

“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent. 

Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room. 

“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket. 

You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said. 

“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you. 

“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.

You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.” 

A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all. 

Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots. 

Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep. 

_ 

Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less. 

Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave. 

“Are you okay?” 

Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?” 

“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious. 

Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about. 

And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.

But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with. 

“I miss my lover, man.” 

He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You. 

_ 

“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return. 

The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you. 

“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.

“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.

BB-8 beeped adamantly at him. 

“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind. 

“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away. 

Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets. 

Poe ignored your jab and  walked over to sit behind you. 

“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly. 

“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him. 

He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.

“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted. 

You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you. 

Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum. 

Deep breath. “Open.” 

You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.

“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone. 

Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck. 

“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you. 

“Is this the chain you wear every day?”

He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe. 

“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it. 

“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice. 

You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight. 

You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.

“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal. 

“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”

You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world. 

You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.

“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. 

“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”

_

The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.

But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission. 

Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his. 

The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it. 

You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes. 

The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions. 

The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.

Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship. 

Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.

You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.

“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie. 

“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit. 

_ 

Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down. 

But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later. 

He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest. 

He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you. 

Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you. 

Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war? 

A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.

He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you. 

He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission. 

When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks. 

What the hell was going on? 

“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.

He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.” 

Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.

She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous. 

“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.” 

Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened? 

“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.

She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.

Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue. 

“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be. 

“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished. 

Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy. 

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[lovehotelreservation]

Formulaic

Summary: There was a process to every solution.

And while Cid was aware of one particular solution he so dearly wished to attain, the process was simply too formidable to even attempt:

To confess his feelings to Maria, the Warrior of Light.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Cid

EVERY TIME I SEE CID I GET WHIPLASH THAT HE’S ONLY 34 HEWWO ??? MANS LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOT WERTHER’S ORIGINAL KISSES NOT LA CROIX MAKEOUT SESSIONS!!!

ANYWAY HFLKAFHAKL THANK YOU TO MY DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY--ESP SINCE I PROGRESSED FURTHER ON THE OMEGA SERIES BECAUSE OF THIS!!!

---------------- Cid regretted ever fixing that damn kettle.

While doing so finally got the whinging pursed lips of Nero to finally hush up so he could hone his focus upon Garlond Ironworks’ current endeavor of seeking out Omega, the repair of the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster only served to give his lifelong rival all the opportunity to cozy up to the very person that Cid wanted him to stay the furthest away from.

Or attempt to at least.

A personality utterly kind and demure, eyes grey like rain clouds on a cozy morning, soft and silken locks of gold that cascaded to the middle of her back, a mind so brilliant and witty.

Eorzea’s Warrior of Light, but his own precious weakness.

She was Maria and oh how his heart yearned for her.

All while his eyes bore holes into the ground beneath which Nero stood every time he approached her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and an arrogant smirk on his face.

While Cid was more than overjoyed to see Maria fix herself a cup of tea during the lulls between endeavors in the Datascape, whenever she went to pour herself a drink, Nero was sure to be trailing after her, going on about superior blends in Garlemald and how he was more than ready to show her the breadth of his refined palate.

His intentions were clear.

And though Cid was ever prepared to step in as need be to keep Nero from pestering her further, the crux of the underlying issue in face of all this remained present in place:

His own feelings for Maria.

If the situation called for it, he could easily give a fully articulated lecture on the Allagans while inebriated to the point he was face planted on the floor in a drunken and naked slump right in the middle of Sapphire Avenue during peak Starlight shopping season.

But to confess how he genuinely felt about the woman who captivated him so dearly, who inspired him to go beyond any boundary?

The thought of risking the friendship that he treasured with her like nothing else was enough to push him to drink.

After all, with how often that the world relied on her strength to help defend it, he was protective of her--even lamenting that time he jokingly declared his need for her mainly due to her usefulness while he was guiding her through the tumultuous depths of The Praetorium.

Yet with the aftermath of that infamous night in Ul’dah and her subsequent escape to Ishgard, it was then that he began to realize that his fondness for her went beyond mere allies, mere friends.

This was made apparent the moment they were properly reunited after her far too close encounter with the Vundu at the Sea of Clouds, having successfully escaped pursuit by the Bismarck.

What with the way he could not hold himself back from taking her into his arms, hugging her close as all tension within his body was swiftly relieved as he took her in.

Her presence, her scent, her adorably surprised stammers as he embraced her right in front of Hauchefant and Emmanellain.

Along with Wedge and Biggs, with the former letting out a startled “Chief--!” while the other released the hearty chuckle of “Aye boss, demonstration of affection’s handled a whole lot differently in Ishgard, you know!”

For all his intentions to never let her go from the moment he feared the worst upon her disappearance, he was ever quick to relinquish her, a faint dust of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Cid was thankful that she didn’t seem to catch onto Biggs’s cheeky remark, looking so gorgeously flustered more so from his sudden embrace, despite her attempts to look composed in light of their reunion.

And it was from then on that he happily took his place within her journey, whether physically together during their attempts to thwart the return of Alexander, or when they were apart and remained joined together by way of letter or linkpearl.

To hear her say or see his name in her handwriting was a joy that could not ever be replicated by anything else.

As a pursuer of knowledge, he had to abide by what was factual.

There was no denying of his longing for Maria.

Not while he had Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie chiming in to ask if he had been talking to her whenever they handed her letters to him with knowing smiles on their faces.

And now, with Maria dedicating her time and effort to assist him and the rest of Garlond Ironworks with Omega’s ongoing trials, he could feel his heart welling with his increasingly overwhelming desire to express how he felt.

It was just only more irritating that Nero had stoked the flames by his pompous ways, of which left plenty on Cid’s mind, especially with the completion of the first gambit of battles under Omega’s watch and the return to Rhalgr’s Reach for some needed rest and recuperation.

Though, relaxation was in the furthest corner of his mind, whether by the mystery of Omega’s intentions or his current predicament of his feelings towards Maria.

With the hour late, rather than try to force himself back to sleep within the sleeping quarters set aside for Garlond Ironworks, he thought a walk around the now quiet compound would serve him better instead.

A change between sleeping clothes to a light shirt and a pair of pants--more suitable for the arid Ala Mhigan weather.

There was a small grin on his face as he emerged from the sleeping area.

Already he could hear Maria’s voice of exasperated curiosity with the inquiry of “How are you not evaporating?” whenever she saw his usual day to day attire.

Yet the voice that was in his head was heard by his very ears as he entered the common area that led out to the rest of Western Rhalgr’s Reach.

“Cid?”

Seated at one of the communal tables was none other than Maria, her expression curious and mug in her hands steaming, all while the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster presided by her on the tabletop.

The gods may toy but sometimes their mischief was simply too much.

His heart aflutter and his grin widening, Cid approached where Maria was sitting. “Well now, someone’s up late.”

The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile as she proceeded to take a sip. “I see it as being up early.”

But though her tone was jovial and her expression relaxed, there was a distant look in her eye that signified a preoccupation.

He knew that look.

“I see--though, a warrior like yourself ought to get her rest, no?” Pulling out the chair beside her, he proceeded to take a seat, all while his grey eyes gazed towards her with concern. “Tell me, what keeps you up on this good night, Maria?”

While it was often joked that Cid was married to the pursuit of knowledge, he liked to think that his devotion to his studies made him especially perceptive of properly assessing emotion.

For surely, who else happily devoted one’s efforts to knowing so much of Maria such as he?

It was then that she set her mug down on the table.

Just before she turned towards him, her lips forming into a pout.

A pout he so dearly wished to kiss.

Huffing, she remarked as her arms folded over her chest, “Are we speaking about the general burden of being the go-to person for everyone’s dilemma, or that Nero is getting under my skin again? Take your pick.”

No words in modern and/or Allagan vernacular could fully describe the relief that washed over Cid’s body.

Still, always wishing for her to be at peace, he responded in turn with a sympathetic grin as he chuckled, “Ahh, one of those pesky reasons to stay up. What has our comrade in reluctant arms done this time?”

Maria turned her attention towards her mug on the table.

Her favorite one of the Garlond Ironworks’s collection, which Cid always made sure to have on hand whenever she was working alongside them.

Though many thoughts were swirling in her mind at this very moment--especially with Cid sitting right beside at an otherwise romantic hour--she continued as disdain intertwined itself with each word she spoke, “Earlier, Nero insisted that I try his cup of tea, and right when I did, he started gloating about an indirect kiss.”

If the thought of Maria’s voice energized his soul to go on a walk at such a late time, the mere utterance of Nero thinking himself to be so charming he could think to flirt in such a way made the inklings of a migraine begin to form within Cid’s head.

With her body visibly cringing at the recollection, the late hour had her lamenting out loud, “Is every brilliant mind from Galemand as big of a pompous know-it-all like him?”

“Well I like to think of myself as a humble servant to the majesty of study,” Cid teased with a shrug.

Setting her cheek against her palm while her elbow set upon the table, she remarked with a shake of her head, “You’re the exception.”

Cid had to wonder if he just gulped down a mug of tea himself with the rush of heat that suddenly surged through his chest. He let out another laugh, richer, deeper. “I take it that you’re not as keen to receive Nero’s odd attempts at courting?”

Maria’s eyes closed as she groaned at the thought, “I’d rather kiss the floor of the Gold Saucer during the summer season.”

“Then, would you prefer a kiss from elsewhere…?”

And then her eyelids fluttered open.

The lightheartedness in Cid’s tone had subsided into one of sincerity, as matched by the look in his eyes while he peered directly towards her.

Though unsure of how to feel or proceed, everything within her body encouraged her to step forward towards what she had yearned for so long.

And so, ever shyly but with her eyes gazing right into his, she murmured, “...If it must come from elsewhere, it can only come from one person.”

His breath caught in his throat. “‘One person…?’”

Her face grew warm from embarrassment. “I think you can figure it out, humble servant to the majesty of study.

Cid couldn’t resist from gasping with delight. “Gods Maria--”

His hands swiftly cupped her cheeks and their mouths met for a long awaited kiss, the warmth of the tea on her lips making them both melt further into their connection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing the two of them closer. 

It was yearning now fulfilled, a flood of long withheld affection bursting forth, a craving for one another looking to be satisfied, to be changed from midnight fantasy to joyful fruition.

Kisses once shy and careful turned earnest and heated, tongues stumbling against one another as hands groped with need.

Were it not knowing her penchant for reservation, he would have ravaged her right then and there at the commons table.

Instead, he opted to lift her up into a carry, her arms and legs hugging around his shoulders and waist as he hurriedly brought her back to his quarters, his walk and her tea forgotten.

Surely, this had to be a dream in some way, no?

But as her back fell upon his mattress, as their hands continued to undress and feel each other as physical confirmation that what was occurring was very much real, the joys of the present couldn’t have been more sweet.

And how Cid savored her moans like that of an addictive confection.

Even without trying to be mindful of others at this late hour, Maria stifled her moans out of shyness, all while her back arched into warmth of Cid’s lips as they kissed over her dribbling core, the bristles of his facial hair scratching against her quivering as he eagerly lapped his tongue along her slit with long and indulgent strokes.

Though, she couldn’t quite be as quiet when she was eventually seated on his lap, her face buried into his shoulder as she rode his cock, all while one of his big sturdy hands held onto her hip while the other fondled her ass, guiding her up and down the length of his thick dick at a brisk pace.

This provided an ample opportunity to plant his lips along the crook of her neck, gentle suckles leaving red marks in their wake.

While he knew that Maria would do everything in her power to understandably cover up, the thought of Nero thinking twice to pursue her while seeing the marks on her neck was satisfying.

But nowhere near as satisfying as feeling the muffled whimpers of his name from her lips against his skin, the hot and slippery confines of her slick walls squeezing around his cock, up until they reached their orgasms with her core clamping onto his dick and his seed flooding inside her in a lascivious, scorching burst.

Much like as they began, they ended with their lips on one another’s yet again as they fell back onto his mattress, joined together now by their arms embracing one another, fingers intertwining, his lips against her temple, her head nestling upon the sturdiness of his chest.

Though they would have much to fully confide and earnestly convey once their bodies were properly rested, both Cid and Maria were relieved, their hearts feeling warm.

Far warmer than any brewed cup of tea.

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 23 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You were right in Alpha seeking revenge for crossing into their lands and now swarms of Walkers are arriving at the gates of Alexandria. Still trying to deal with the emotions in your own mind, you are tasked with supervising Aaron and Negan who are to work together. What happens when the three of you get stuck over night in a cabin together and what is Carol thinking?

Word Count: 6061

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “My Blood” by twenty one pilots

Note: This one takes place in ep 3 of season 10 called “Ghosts”. In this chapter, we get a better look at the reader’s life before the end of the Savior war and especially what they knew about Carl and the letter he left for Negan.

-------

A cataclysmic event.

That was what you witnessed when they dropped fire on Atlanta. Everything was burning and the air was thick with the smell of hot metal and melting tar. You could still remember the way your skin felt as you ran through the street, trying to flee from the destruction. 

That was the first night you finally saw a Walker up close. You had seen them on the TV and images that flashed on public monitors in the heart of the city, but never had one been mere feet away. It moved towards you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. You wanted to run, to scream, but you just stood there, watching. 

You could hear the commotion behind you as people ran for their lives, but nothing could distract you from the Dead man in front of you. Fresh blood dripped from its mouth as it reached for you. Stumbling back, you couldn’t think to do anything else but examine how something as beautiful as a human being had become...this. 

A shot came from a nearby convoy as the military tore through the rubble-filled streets, ending the Walker once and for all. They didn’t stop to ask if you were okay and they didn’t yell at you to run, they just kept going and you were alone again. 

As you stared down at the man that once was, you couldn’t stop the thoughts that ran through your head that said, “Perhaps this is next for all of us. Perhaps this is what is meant to happen.” 

That thought followed you all the way from the city and into the hills where you eventually met Carl Grimes and it had never truly left you. 

Even now as you watched Walkers approach your home in waves, those two little sentences were buzzing in the back of your mind, trying to make themselves known. However, just as you had for about a decade now, you shoved them away and picked up your weapon. 

The number of Walkers that fell upon Alexandria was something that you hadn’t seen in years. Being so far from the cities, it was rare to find massive hordes right near the communities or even groups of more than ten or fifteen. However, now there were groups of ten or twenty every time you turned around and you knew why. 

Alpha was pissed. 

You had tried to warn them when they went over her borders, but of course, nobody batted an eye when you spoke up. 

You couldn’t understand how one day your thoughts mattered and the next, they went clear over everyone’s heads. You knew you weren’t in charge, that didn’t both you. What did bother you was that your people had begun to question you, rather than relying on your council. You started to notice it after the blizzard and then even more so as your relationship with Negan furthered. 

While you still held a position of respect within Alexandria, you knew that you were looked at differently because of Negan, but you didn’t hold an ounce of resentment towards the man that you loved. Negan was the most important part of your life now and if that meant that nobody looked to you anymore, that was something that would have to get used to. 

Especially in moments when you were the only one dealing with the Dead. 

Aaron and the others had arrived home in the early hours of the morning, desperate to get their children home safely and when they saw you on watch, they had avoided your eyes immediately. You knew why they crossed over, but if you had had it your way, you would have been glad to watch the world burn. 

There had been a discussion, well rather an argument, earlier as more waves of Walkers approached. Lydia had been present in the meeting hall when Daryl had begun questioning her.

You had stayed in the back, ready to jump in to defend her if necessary, but she was handling it well. Lydia had explained that she didn’t think the Walkers were from her mother and that Alpha would have sent a horde. You weren’t so sure about that.

You knew fear tactics and this was textbook. 

Then there was the fact that Alpha now wanted to speak to Michonne and Daryl. You hadn’t even volunteered to go with them to the South border because you knew they would shut you down. However, you didn’t mention that bringing Carol was just as much of a risk. While you were pissed and wanting blood, Carol’s vendetta was even more personal.

Once some of the Highwaymen began throwing insults at Lydia, you took her out of the room and let Daryl deal with them. The last thing she needed was more venom thrown at her and you weren’t going to have her stand by and be spit on. 

Instead, you began to help clear out the Walkers again while you thought about what to do about her mother. While you didn’t agree with accepting Alpha’s terms and her borders, antagonizing her was the last thing you wanted to do.

If you were going to take her out, you wanted to do it when she didn’t expect it. You didn’t want a firefight or a clashing of swords, you just wanted her and Beta dead. It was that simple. Though, like most things in the fucked up world known as the apocalypse, nothing was ever truly simple. 

Negan was not too far away from you, helping to load the corpses into the wagons. You were keeping an eye on him as he worked, but you kept finding yourself distracted as the day wore on. Especially by one memory in particular…

--------

Months Earlier…

“This is either a trick or you pulled some huge strings on the puppet masters of Alexandria,” Negan said as he closed the door to your house behind you. Lydia who was sitting on the couch glanced up from the art book in her hands, something you had found in the garage a few days before and gave to her. 

“If you keep questioning Michonne’s decision, she’s gonna send your ass back out into the cold to sleep in the snow,” you warned, taking off your heavy coat.

“I’m not complaining,” Negan said with a grin and a wink. With a sigh, you gestured for him to make himself at home. 

“Lydia, did you eat?” you asked as you entered the living room to turn on your newly fixed fireplace. 

“Siddiq brought me something,” she said quietly as she stared at Negan who looking at her with curiosity. You gestured between them.

“Lydia, this is Negan. Negan, meet Lydia,” you introduced. 

“Nice to meet ya, kid,” he said with a neutral face, trying to gauge her reaction. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, folding her legs underneath her on the couch. 

“Jailbird here is gonna be staying with us when it’s below zero,” you explained as Negan leaned against the wall near the fire. “So just watch where you step so you don’t step in his ego while he’s here.” Negan scoffed. 

“Wow, (Y/N), that hurts,” he said. 

“Yeah? Well, so does this,” you said, as you gestured to the fresh wound on your side. “I’m gonna go change the dressing, try not to corrupt her, yeah?”

“I would never!” he called as you climbed the stairs towards your room. However, instead of searching for gauze, you remained on the landing and listened in on Negan and Lydia. “What are you reading?” Negan asked after a moment and you could hear the flipping of pages in the quiet of the room. 

“(Y/N) found it in the garage,” Lydia said. 

“Ah, Dalí,” Negan said. “I like his stuff.”

“The clocks are cool,” Lydia admitted and you smiled to yourself. 

“That they are,” Negan agreed. “How are you doing? I heard life is sort of kicking you in the teeth at the moment.” 

“I’m better than I was yesterday,” Lydia said. “At least a little bit.”

“And tomorrow you’ll be a bit better than you were today. Takes time,” he said.

“Nobody wants me here,” she whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. 

“(Y/N) does,” Negan said, “and trust me, coming from them, that means a lot.”

“Why are you locked up?” Lydia suddenly asked and Negan remained quiet. It was only after about a minute that he sighed. 

“Do you really want to know? It’s not a pretty story,” he said. 

“Neither is mine,” Lydia admitted and then you heard her shifting on the couch, settling in to listen to him. 

“Alright,” Negan said, almost reluctantly. “It all started when a man named Rick visited Hilltop for the first time…” 

-------

You were knocked out of your memory as arguing reached your ears.

Still reeling from your thoughts, you searched for the cause only to see Gabriel stepping in between Aaron and Negan. Aaron’s morning star prosthetic was already attached and you could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears as you rushed over to find out what the damn issue was. 

“You need fighters,” Gabriel was saying. “He can fight, you’re taking him.” 

“What now?” you asked, already regretting the question. 

“Your buddy doesn’t trust me to help him take out Walkers,” Negan explained. “Though, I’ve already expressed my desire to stay here and bury corpses instead of hanging out with Captain Hook here.” Aaron glared at Negan and you were already getting a migraine. 

“Seriously?” you asked Gabriel who was already on the verge of giving up. “Fine, I guess I will play babysitter.”

“Fucking perfect,” Aaron swore. 

“Hey,” you said, pointing at him, “don’t break the asshole pact,” you said, reminding him of the conversation the two of you had on his porch before you left for the fair. You had finally repaired your relationship with Aaron and you weren’t going to blow it now. 

“I know, I know,” Aaron said, getting where you were coming from, “but it doesn’t extend to him.” 

“I never said it did,” you defended. 

“You want to referee these two?” Gabriel asked, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine, be my guest!” Gabriel stormed away and you turned to both of the men before you with your arms crossed. 

“Great, now you’ve pissed off the Priest.”

————

The three of you walked through the thick forest in silence. 

Normally, you would have been chatting or joking with Negan about being outside the walls for the first time together, but your romantic getaway was nowhere near as special as you thought it would be. 

Aaron dragged his feet alongside both of you. You could hear his feet digging in the mud and you knew he was doing it on purpose to annoy Negan. Jesus had taught him how to move through the woods in silence just as Lydia was teaching you. 

This only made you even more annoyed.

“You’re quiet today,” Negan observed, poking at your side. You looked over at him and took his hand, squeezing it a few times before letting go. 

“Sorry,” you said, returning your hand to rest on your sword.

“What’s gotten into you?” Aaron asked. 

“I’m pissed off, Aaron,” you explained with a huff. 

“Well, I can see that,” Aaron said. 

“Not helping,” Negan shot back. Aaron just rolled his eyes at Negan’s comment. You pushed on, ignoring both of them. It had only been a couple of days since the satellite fell and while Eugene felt that harvesting the tech from the machine was necessary, you still thought it was foolish. 

Your mood wasn’t getting any better no matter what Lydia or Negan tried. If you were being honest with yourself, you just needed a break. All you wanted to do was go away for a while and not think about communities arguing or masked menaces tracking your every mood. 

You just needed a moment. 

Now with the meeting happening at the Southern border, you didn’t know what to expect. Just as long as Daryl came back in one piece, you would be okay.  

For now. 

The three of you ended up in a clearing not too far from Alexandria, but far enough to see where the Walkers would be crossing towards the main road that led home.

Aaron gave Negan an old broomstick to handle the Walkers and he wouldn’t give in to your request of giving Negan your knife. It was ridiculous, but you figured it was better than Aaron yelling and Negan making ridiculous comments. 

“You have that look on your face,” Aaron observed as he took a swig of his water after taking out another Walker. 

“What look?” you asked, unbothered by the blood stuck to your blade. Negan was nearby, always twirling his stick around to amuse himself. 

“It’s the same look you had the day Rick and Daryl brought Jesus to Alexandria,” he explained. 

“Annoyed?” you asked, staring off into the trees. 

“More suspicious,” he said. “Though, I would throw in just a dash of pessimism, too.”

“Is that so?” you asked.

“You know, when I met you, I really didn’t like you,” Aaron said and you scoffed.

“Ouch,” Negan muttered. 

“There was just something about you that I didn’t get,” he went on. “Rick acted as if you were some kind of boogeyman.”

“This isn’t sounding any better, Aaron,” you said, leaning on your sword. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you always seemed like the black sheep of the family and I think we need that kind of thinking right about now,” he said, surprising you. 

“I thought you would be on team, ‘cross the border’,” you said.

“So did I,” Aaron said. 

“But?” you prompted. 

“I don’t know anything at this point. At least, I feel as if I don’t,” he admitted. “All I do know is that we can’t treat these...people like we have in the past with other enemies,” Aaron said and you didn’t miss the glance he threw at Negan. Negan ignored him, but he was still listening.

“Right, and now with Daryl agreeing to meet with these psychos...” you sighed.

“Daryl knows what he’s doing,” Aaron tried.

“Well, out of the three of us here, I’ve known him the longest. I know how blind he can be when it comes to his family and with Carol hurting the way she is, he ain’t gonna stop until Alpha is dead,” you said. 

“I remember how he used to be,” Aaron said, but you shook your head.

“You didn’t know him before Alexandria, before the Prison,” you said. “Daryl used to be loud and sharp. After his brother went missing he became standoffish and reckless. Nobody could work with him, not even Rick. The crazy son of a bitch once impaled himself on his crossbow bolt when his horse threw him off. Then, he got shot in the same afternoon on Maggie’s farm cause Andrea thought he was damn Walker. The man doesn’t know when to slow down.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Aaron asked. 

“It was when nobody knew him. Nobody knew what to expect. The only people he was even decent to were Carol and Carl.” 

“Not you?” Negan asked, hauling another body over to the pile. 

“Definitely not,” you said, thinking about all the arguments the two of you would get into. “We were civil, but I think we saw too much of each other in another. I remember Merle, Daryl’s big brother seeing us work together against the Governor. He used to make some really ridiculous comments, but one always stuck with me. Merle would say that we were ‘just two screwed up kids who ended up at the end of the world,’ and hell, he was right.”

------

The three of you worked into the late afternoon, early evening as sweat bloomed on your brows and blood stuck to your boots. 

Negan did his best to take out the Walkers with his stick, but he was itching for a blade. If Aaron wasn’t around then he knew that you would give him one without question. 

As he watched you, he could see how anxious you were getting. You had mentioned that Daryl never slowed down, but you never did either. You became distant and restless when you didn’t have a target in your sights. It was one of the many things he loved about you. 

After taking down another three Walkers, you wicked the blood from the sword that had become a part of you. 

“I’m going to get some more water,” you announced. “Try not to kill each other.”

“I’ll do my best,” Negan said with a wink. You ignored him as you grabbed the canteens and headed into the trees. 

Negan and Aaron were silent as they continued to kill the Walkers that broke off from the main horde that the others were handling. Without you to be there as a buffer, Aaron began to bite his tongue so he didn’t blow up at the man next to him.

Negan however, could feel the heat coming off him. 

“Are you just gonna keep staring at me or are you going to man up and tell me what’s on your mind?” Negan said, turning to face his adversary. 

“I have nothing to say to you,” Aaron said. 

“Ah, we both know that’s not true,” Negan said. “You’ve been just dying to give me a piece of that mind buried under all those curls. So, come on, lay it on me.” Aaron was quiet for a moment before he let his anger win over his decision to remain somewhat civil.

“You’re not good enough for them,” Aaron said and Negan raised his brows, taking in the words.

“If you think that pisses me off,” Negan began, “then I hate to break it to you, but you’re not the first to disapprove.”

“I won’t be the last either,” Aaron threatened and Negan caught onto what he was saying. 

“If this is about Maggie,” said Negan, “then I think you need to take a step back. She can want me dead all she damn well pleases, but the fact is, she had her chance to kill me and she didn’t take it.”

“She’d do it now,” Aaron said. 

“Why, because I’m in love with one of her friends? Are they friends? Because last time I checked, (Y/N) never talks about her.”

“You don’t get to dissect every relationship they’ve had. You are the reason that (Y/N) lost two people they really cared about, three if you count Sasha,” Aaron said. 

“I had nothing to do with Sasha’s death,” Negan said. “I didn’t kill her.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Aaron agreed, “but you are the reason she’s dead.” Negan glared at Aaron, trying to control his breathing. 

“It was war, Aaron, or are you forgetting your merry bunch of survivors killed my men as they fucking slept? You pulled the trigger first. You can be pissed at me all you want, but do not look at me and see a monster when you’ve shed just as much blood.”

“You wanna know what I see?” Aaron asked. “I see someone that's pretending.”

“Come on, man, just let it go,” Negan said as he moved past Aaron, going to follow you. However, Aaron was faster, throwing out his leg and blocking Negan’s step, sending him to the ground. “Jesus!” Negan swore. “Did you just trip me? What, are you? Twelve?” Aaron sneered at him, but Negan wasn’t having it. Getting to his feet, he towered over Aaron. “What the hell is wrong with you? I've been puttin' my neck on a block for you people all goddamn day!” 

“You don't give a damn about us,” Aaron said, not believing it for a second.  “If you gave a shit, you'd leave. That's what everyone needs.”

“I can’t do that and you know it,” Negan said. 

“Because you love them?” Aaron asked with a scoff.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Coming from you? Absolutely! They may have forgiven you for all the death and torture, but the rest of us haven’t!” 

“Nobody has forgiven anyone!” Negan said. “You think (Y/N) forgives me for murdering their friends right in front of them? They don’t and I haven’t asked them to! Look, I did what I had to do back then.” Aaron was silent then as Negan’s words cascaded over him. 

Aaron then tilted his head just as a predator would when watching its prey. “What did you say?” he asked, but Negan remained silent. “No, no, no. Open that up. Tell me why the love of my life had to die,” he ordered. 

Negan shook his head, but he took the bait. “Okay. One simple fact. One truth kept my people going... if you don't protect what belongs to you, then sooner or later, it belongs to someone else. That goes for your land, your wallet, your home, your country... everything. It is your job as a man to protect it. That's the story of America, the story of the whole goddamn world. And ain't nothing changing it... not you, not me, nobody,” Negan said, getting into Aaron’s face, but the latter wasn’t backing down. 

“Are you saying that Eric's death was my fault?” he asked but Negan remained still. Aaron then shook his head, stepping into Negan’s space even more. “Well, if I failed Eric,” he whispered. “Then you failed your wife.” Negan went still, looking down at Aaron with fury in his eyes.

“Careful,” Negan warned, trying to remain calm, but Aaron wasn’t done.

“Yeah. She died hating you, right? Gabriel told us the story and I know that (Y/N) has heard it, too. Hate to break it to you, but you will never see her again.” Negan’s mouth turned into a smirk as light entered his eyes. 

“What? You wanna say something?” Aaron challenged. 

“Yeah,” Negan said and then with a quirked brow pointed over Aaron’s shoulder. “Behind you,” he whispered as Walkers converged on Aaron. Aaron took out one in a hurry as another, which was covered in vegetation, fell on Aaron, taking him to the ground. Aaron yelled as the Walker reached for his face, but he was able to hit it over the head with his morning star, killing it easily.

However, something was wrong. Negan was gone and Aaron couldn’t see.

------

By the time you got back to the clearing, it was night. 

Of course, this was the time for you to get turned around and have to double back. You pushed into the clearing, ready to get the boys back on track when you were met with an empty space. 

“Seriously!” you yelled, throwing your hands up. “I say not to kill each other and they leave me,” you muttered. “No, no, (Y/N) they’ll be just fine, just two people who hate each other. Why should it matter if they both care about you? It’s not like that fucking matters.”

You continued to talk to yourself as you shone your light on the ground and managed to find Negan’s footprints. “It’s a good thing you’re practically bigfoot,” you whispered as you headed into the trees. You were then very happy that Daryl had taken all that time to teach you how to track or you’d be out there stumbling over Walkers and roots.

The tracks were accompanied by another set. You figured they were Aaron’s considering how precise they were. Walker tracks were more random and uneven. They led away from Alexandria which only made you even more annoyed. “Right, let’s go away from the walls and the warm food. Assholes,” you swore as you climbed over a fallen tree and kept moving. 

Eventually, you saw a flickering light in the distance. Stepping over what was either a dead Walker or a half-eaten deer, you arrived at a cabin. Noises of alarm echoed from the cabin and you ran towards it, kicking open the door. You slid into the main room just as Negan finished killing the last Walker with a crowbar. You would have to ask where he got that later. 

“What the hell?” you asked, alarming Negan. 

“(Y/N)?” Aaron’s voice came in the dark. “Negan?” 

Negan looked at you and in the dark of the room with only the moon to illuminate his features, he looked incredibly intimidating. “You alright?” Negan asked Aaron who was looking around the room rapidly. You took a step closer to him, confused. 

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “How did you…?”

“Your light switched on,” Negan explained, reaching down to turn off the flashlight that was on Aaron’s belt. 

“What’s wrong, Aaron?” you asked. 

“I can’t see,” he said, looking around the room, trying to focus on anything, but couldn’t. Negan kneeled in front of Aaron who stiffened as Negan got close. 

“Flowers growin’ out of the Walkers is hogweed,” Negan explained, looking at Aaron’s eyes. 

“Hogweed?” 

“Nasty shit,” Negan said with a glance over at you. “Causes rashes, blindness…”

“Is it permanent?” Aaron asked as you leaned against the wall. 

“Sometimes,” Negan admitted. “You wash your eyes out?” 

“Yeah, in a stream, but I… I didn’t have,” Aaron tried and then you realized you still had the water. 

“Here,” you said tossing the full canteen to Negan who gave it to Aaron. Aaron drank half of it in one go, desperate to quench his thirst. 

“Alright, come on,”  Negan said as he helped Aaron off the floor and you were surprised to see that Aaron let him. Negan got him settled in the old chair before joining you next to the window. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked. 

“We’ll take watch and leave first thing in the morning. That good with you?”

“Yeah,” Aaron said softly. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“You two are both idiots,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“We know,” Negan and Aaron said at once and you couldn’t help but smirk at that. Aaron settled into the chair, the reaction to the hogweed taking its hold, but he didn’t sleep.

Instead, he listened. 

“Maybe don’t run off in the middle of the night when a lot of Walkers are around, okay?” you said.

“Sorry,” Negan said sheepishly. You nodded to him, peering out the windows, letting your mind wander. “What are you thinking?” he asked. 

“What?”

“You look lost in thought, have all day,” he said with a shrug. 

“Uh, I was thinking about Rick,” you said. 

“Anything in particular?” he asked. You were quiet for a moment before turning to fully face him. 

“I lied to you before,” you said. 

“When?”

“When you asked me what the vote was on what to do with you. I told you that Rick just decided. He and Michonne had the final say, but that wasn’t the whole truth,” you admitted. “Rick asked me what I thought he should do.” Negan was quiet for a moment.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing at first,” you said. “I didn’t have an opinion right away. I was angry with you and I wanted you to pay for what you did, but I… I didn’t know if death was the answer. I was conflicted.” 

“Why?” he asked and you looked at him with glossy eyes. 

“Because of Carl,” you admitted and you saw something shift behind his eyes at the mention of the late teen. “I read the letter that he wrote to you. Michonne let me after she had given me the one Carl left to me. I knew what Carl wanted. He wanted the fighting to stop, he wanted the hate to stop, and he wanted you to be a better man. How was I supposed to deny him that?”

“Did you tell Rick this?”

“Sort of,” you said with a sigh. “I told him that Carl had written to me asking me to take care of him and Judith. Carl trusted me to be the protector of his family because he couldn’t anymore, but he never needed to ask. I would have died for Rick and I will die for RJ and Judith if it came down to it.”

“I know,” Negan whispered. 

“I thought about it for hours, the question Rick asked me, and then I told him that it wasn’t up to me and it wasn’t really up to him either. Carl had already made the decision. Rick had already made promises to the people he loved. He promised his best friend, Shane, that he would protect his family because Shane did it first; He promised Lori that he would protect Carl and he did.

“What happened to Carl wasn’t Rick’s fault no matter what he thought. Most of all, Rick promised Michonne that he would build a good life for their daughter, and I had to remind him that he wasn’t allowed to break that promise. Carl had an idea, and if we had killed you, we would have been dishonoring him and everything he wanted to fight for but couldn’t. I had to make a choice and for once it wasn’t for my survival, but for securing Carl’s legacy. You once asked me why I stayed in Alexandria when I felt as if I never quite fit.”

“And you said it was because Carl was buried there,” he remembered. 

“Alexandria is strong and still standing because of Carl. It’s not just because his grave is there. It’s because everywhere I turn, I see that kid’s influence. I made a promise when I read the letter he wrote to me. I can’t break it now and I never will.”

“Where is all this coming from?” Negan asked. You wiped at the tears that formed in the corner of your eyes. 

“I feel as if I’m starting to lose sight of him, Negan,” you said. “I look around and I don’t see Carl, I see Alpha’s face or Jesus’ blood on my hands. I can’t see the good anymore.” 

“There is still good in this world, (Y/N),” Negan promised. “You just gotta search a little harder.”

“I’m tired of searching,” you said. “I try to be there for Lydia, but most days I have no idea what I’m doing. What the hell does she see when she looks at me? I don’t even know what I see when I look at her.”

“Do you wanna know what I see when I look at Lydia?” he asked. 

“What?”

“I see a scared kid who’s had a shit life and who needs you to look out for her,” Negan said. 

“Right,” you said, but Negan wasn’t convinced you were getting it. You then looked up at him. “What do you see when you look at me?” Negan didn’t even hesitate.

“Possibilities,” he said and it threw you for a loop. Looking at him in the dark of the cabin, you could only see the truth pouring from him. 

“What do you see when you look at yourself?” you whispered.

“Not much,” he answered.

“Negan…” 

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’ve accepted it. You know, when I went back to the Sanctuary and saw what everything had become, I finally got it.”

“Got what?” you asked. Negan reached out and dragged his knuckles along the back of your arm, savoring the feeling as if you were going to fade away. 

“That my number was up the second Rick told me he was going to kill me in that clearing,” Negan said, avoiding your eyes. “I just didn’t know this would be how he’d do it, condemning me to a life of self-hatred,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. 

“Why are you saying this to me?” you asked.

“I’m just trying to let you know that it’s okay if I don’t get the happy ending. I was more of a fan of horror films than fairytales anyway,” he admitted. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Just…” Negan trailed off and then pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around you. “Just be still with me right now. Just, be still.”

-------

Negan eventually fell asleep after you convinced him to get some rest. 

You were too wired to even think about sleeping. You sat on the floor between Negan and Aaron, your sword reflecting moonlight across the dark room. The next time you heard a voice, it was Aaron’s and not Negan’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Aaron whispered. “I didn’t mean to run off.”

“It’s okay,” you said, reaching up to squeeze his hand. Aaron went to say something else then when Negan began talking in his sleep. You were used to it from all the times you spent by his side in bed, but Aaron froze as he listened to the nonsense. 

It wasn’t until actual words were formed that Aaron sat up. “Simon,” Negan muttered. “Si…,” he said again and then went back to mumbling before growing silent again. It had been a while since he dreamed about Simon, you realized. 

“What the hell was that?” Aaron whispered. 

“Negan, he talks in his sleep. He says the names of his victims sometimes.”

“Simon?” Aaron asked, surprised. 

“Negan strangled him when he tried to overthrow him. Simon was the one who ordered all the men and boys to be killed at Oceanside. He killed the boy at Hilltop and was the one who massacred Jadis’ people. Negan never knew any of it,” you whispered. 

“Makes sense,” Aaron said and you furrowed your brow.

“How so?”

“Negan doesn’t hurt kids,” Aaron said simply. 

“No, no he doesn’t,” you said, glad that Aaron understood that. 

“He still grinds my gears,” Aaron said. 

“I know.”

“And since when is he a fucking botanist? Hogweed, really?” Aaron scoffed. 

“He’s been out in the world for a long time,” you said. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said and then, “I never knew about Rick.” You sighed, but you figured he had been listening. 

“Nobody knew, that was the point.”

“I guess I never realized just how much he put on you,” Aaron said. 

“I didn’t mind,” you said, leaning your head against the chair. 

“Maybe you should’ve.”

-------

The next morning, Aaron was still struggling with his eyesight, but it was getting better. 

Negan slung one of Aaron’s arms around his shoulders to help him walk as you carried the weapons. Rosita pulled open the gate when you got home and yelled for Siddiq as you explained what happened. The doctor came running down the street with worry. Once he saw that Aaron was in one piece more or less, he took him from Negan.

You knew that Siddiq and the new doctor, Dante, would get him fixed up in no time. After making sure Aaron was okay, you began to lead Negan back to his cell. As you approached the Grimes’ house, you noticed Michonne, Daryl, and a very pissed of Carol standing on the stoop. 

“Uh oh,” Negan said as he stuck close to you. As you got closer, Carol shoved past both of them and into the house. The look on Daryl’s face made you incredibly nervous considering he had just returned from the meeting with Alpha. 

You and Negan stopped next to them and Michonne seemed to relax at the sight of you, knowing that at least you were okay. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

“Carol shot at Alpha,” Michonne divulged and you sighed, trying to contain your anger. 

“Fucking fantastic,” you swore. “How much shit are we in now?” 

“She knew we crossed,” Daryl said. “She knew about all of it. The fire, the blizzard, and even when Michonne and Aaron crossed by the river. She’s got people everywhere.” 

“So Carol felt the need to light the fire further?” 

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t have?” Daryl challenged but you remained quiet. Daryl shook his head as he walked away. “I need to find Lydia,” he said before heading across the street. 

“This is only going to get worse now,” you said to Michonne who nodded. 

“I know,” she said. “Get ready for a fight.” Michonne turned and followed Carol back into the house, still rigid from the night before. You sighed, gripping the sides of your head as every fear was coming back.

“Are you actually pissed Carol tried to kill Alpha?” Negan asked. 

“No,” you said, removing the keys from your belt, “I’m pissed that she missed.”

AN: Next Chapter is going to be an important one. Hint: Carol becomes desperate and turns to an unlikely ally. 

TAGS: 

@lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess​ @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor​ 

[the-void-i-scream-into]

White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 2/3

Full Story: Part 1, Part 3

Hello Everyone! I hope you are all happy and healthy. Part 2 of my Junjin fanfic is finally up. Thank you so much to the beautiful and wonderful people who liked my fanfic. I am so sorry I have not been responding to your lovely comments. I had exams so I was really busy but I will get to them now. It took me a long time to post this next part because I wanted to finish both Part 2 and 3. I’ll be posting the other part too once I’ve proofread everything

As always, this chapter is dedicated to the Shooters GC (which I haven’t checked in so long, I’m so sorry)  🙈 🙈

Please do be warned, this does get a little dark. But it will pay off in Part 3, I promise.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 13.5k

Rating: T

TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the themes in this story are a little dark, specifically in section iii. Please be warned. I’ve added a summary for section iii in section iv so you can skip it if needed.

PART 2

i.

They both spoke at the same time.

“Ya Kang Sujin…”

“Ya Han Seojun…”

“What the hell happened?”

Seojun had been in a strange state of mind all day. First it was waking up in the enemy’s bed, but that part he had completely blocked out. Then it was the massive hangover, the effects of which he was still reeling from. On top of that he had received a scolding for being late to practice, which caused him to be late to his commercial shoot, which caused him to be late for his recording session which was when he had been informed about his scandal.

Seojun normally didn’t care for rumors that spread about him. He relied on his performance to speak for itself; the people online with their uninformed opinions didn’t matter.

“But why did it have to be her?!” He had groaned when he first read the articles. But then he asked himself seriously, “Why did it have to be her?”

It all seemed too convenient. Additionally, she had been the one to drag him for drinks and then back to her apartment.

Was this another one of her schemes? What would she gain from doing this? Maybe it was because he was on to her and could see the truth about her and now she wanted him gone. Yes, it must have been that. Or was it not? Was his theory too farfetched? Maybe he was being too harsh. Maybe he was misunderstanding the situation.

Seojun felt conflicted. On the one hand, it would have been so easy to just blame Sujin and keep on hating her like he wanted to. On the other hand, he could hear Suho in his head, warning him about being too judgmental. Seojun normally trusted his instincts with everything but this time his own instincts were confused. Should be giving Sujin the benefit of the doubt? 

Seojun knew that if he needed answers, he would need to go to the source.

“What the hell happened?” They both asked each other at the same time but neither had the answer.

“How the hell would I know? It was your apartment.”

“The pictures were obviously taken by someone was obsessed with you.” Sujin fumed.

“Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Then are you saying it’s mine?”

“I’m not the one who took us out drinking then brought me back home to her apartment!”

“I’m not the one with the crazy saesangs!”

“My fans are not crazy! They are way better than arrogant women with a princess complex like you!”

“Don’t call me princess.” Sujin said dangerously.

“Or what? You’ll get me drunk and back at your apartment again?”

“Ah shut up, you man-child!” Sujin hung up and Seojun flung his phone across the room where it bounced onto the couch. He was seething.

“Aish!” Seojun kicked the air.

“Did you talk to Sujin?” Heekyung’s calm voice startled Seojun.

“What? Oh, Noona.” Seojun gulped.

“How was she? Was she okay?”

“Umm…” Seojun blinked

“She must have been shaken. Facing something like this can be very upsetting.”

Seojun’s shoulders deflated. “Uh, yeah…” He hadn’t considered that.

“Did she agree to give a statement to help clear up this mess?”

Oh right, I was supposed to ask her…

Heekyung continued, “I do have good news. We’ve found the person who took the photographs. So he won’t be sharing them with anyone else.”

“You have?”

“Yes. It was unfortunate. A photographer happened to be there, just as you were leaving. He actually recognized you from your voice. Talk about having bad luck.”

Seojun frowned. So, it wasn’t Sujin.

“So will Sujin do it? We just need a simple statement. She can release a post on her socials and we’ll take care of the media articles.”

Seojun rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, I don’t think she’ll agree.” . Especially not after the blaming match that just happened. “Can’t we just clarify things on our end? Not get her involved?”

Heekyung smiled with a twinkle in her eye, “Oh I get it. You don’t want her to feel burdened.”

Seojun could tell what she was implying. “Ah-nee! Its not that at all!” His voice was pitched a little too high.

Heekyung laughed, “I’ve been at this for longer than you, Seojun-ah. You can be straight with me.”

“It’s not like that! I don’t care about Kang Sujin at all!”

But Heekyung wasn’t listening. “Just be careful. Your career has just started. You can’t afford scandals like these. People will turn against you in an instant, you know?”

Seojun swallowed. He knew all too well how people could turn against him in an instant, like the way thy did with Seyeon. But he wanted to believe that he would be able to face them.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

Heekyung nodded. “Good. Now I’ll go tell our PR team to release a statement about you and Sujin being just friends.” Seojun nodded gratefully. “I think the fact that you went to school together will help. Hopefully people will buy it when you tell them nothing happened between you two.” Heekyung winked as she walked away.

“It’s not like that!” Seojun called after her.

ii.

The situation subsided as quickly as it had risen. Move Entertainment published their official statement about how it was all a misunderstanding. That Seojun had only been visiting his friend from high school and the fact that the friend was also a mutual with rising online beauty guru Lim Jukyung helped establish the connection. Seojun had been glad that Jukyung had taken those selfies with Sujin with Seojun in the background otherwise people might have just taken the statement as an excuse.

What annoyed Seojun about the whole situation was not his reputation or the online speculation but how everyone else kept teasing him about it. This was made especially worse when they were all gathered around for drinks, including his own squad, Chorong and Co., who were eyeing Sujin with a mixture of adoration—that made them stare at her, and fear—that kept them from talking to her.

“Ooh, Han Seojun you better not drink too much or you’ll end up in Sujin’s apartment again.” Taehoon teased. Seojun gave him the death glare while Sujin made a disgusted face. Everyone else laughed.

“Guys! Don’t be mean.” Jukyung’s voice went unheard among the collective chatter.

“Han Seojun, I can see you’ve been keeping a very close eye on Kang Sujin.” Chorong whispered in his ear. Seojun elbowed his ribs.

“Pay up, Sujin didn’t kill him.” Suho asked from Suah.

“You guys had a bet?” Sujin asked icily. Seojun almost admired the scathing look Sujin gave Suho as she eyed the money being exchanged.

Suho’s and Suah’s hands froze right when they were exchanging the bills.

“No?” Suho said weakly.

“Kang Su, I bet on you okay?” Suah defended.

“Ah is that so? Well then you’re off the hook.”

Suah relaxed while Suho blinked forty times, sweating. “Kang Sujin. It was just a joke okay?”

Sujin just put her hand forward and Suho silently put the money in her hands.

“Wah, just 5 dollars? I’m worth 5 million you know.”

“Sure you are. And I’m the King of England.” Seojun said under his breath. Kang Sujin and her princess complex.

“What was that?” Sujin put her hand to her ear, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the apology you owe me.”

“What apology? I owe you nothing.” Seojun retorted, fully aware that he had actually come to this gathering to apologize to Sujin about the scandal and how he had behaved over the phone. That plan had since been abandoned. 

For some reason, he could not spit out the three words ‘I am sorry’ to Kang Sujin. No matter how much he wanted to. There was just something about her that irritated him to the point of misbehavior.

Sujin clicked her tongue at Seojun but said nothing. Instead, reaching into her bag, she pulled out a notebook and a pen.

“Here, sign this.” She ordered, pushing the notebook and pen in his face.

“What is it?”

For Kang Sujin, the biggest issue from the scandal had not been the online noteriety and not even the teasing, but the fact that everyone in her office now knew that she was friends with an idol and had demanded that she get them his autographs.

“Its for my friends at work.”

“You have friends?” Seojun said with mock surprise.

“You know I was just as shocked to learn that you have actual fans. I always thought Suho was the one buying all your albums.” Sujin said.

“Of course I have fans! I am super popular you know!” Seojun defended, pulling the lapels of his jacket with pride.

“Yes I’m sure you’re veeeery popular.” Sujin’s words dripped with sarcasm. Seojun’s pride deflated like a balloon. “Just sign. And write something nice too.” She ordered. Seojun quietly picked up the notebook, not because he was nice but because he felt he owed her this much.

“You know my autographs are worth a lot of money, right?”

Sujin made a face. “Just sign the damn thing so that the girls at work stop harassing me about you.”

Seojun smiled as he signed. His fans were awesome. “How many?” He asked.

“Seven.”

He signed seven pages, each with a personalized note.

“Be nice to my fans at work.”

“I’m always nice.”

“Sure you are.” Seojun replied skeptically. He handed Sujin the notebook. “I better not find you selling these online.” He warned.

“I’d rather starve than live off of your autographs.” Sujin bit back.

“Okay, okay! No more fighting!” Jukyung pointed between the two. “Lets all enjoy our drinks in peace.” She looked pointedly at Sujin who pointed her chin at Seojun with a ‘he-started-it’ scowl.

“Han Seo, is it okay for you to meet us in public like this?” Suah asked. They weren’t in the usual private dining area that they frequented when it was just the core group of friends. They were out where everyone could see.

“We can always hang out at our place, if you want.” Suho offered. Seojun quickly shook his head. Seeing Suho and Jukyung together outside was one thing. Seeing how they lived together was quite another. Knowing they lived together was painful enough. He didn’t want even more fuel for his imagination.

“Its no trouble at all.” He put on a smile for Suho who seemed satisfied. But, to his surprise, he found Kang Sujin giving him a strange look. She chuckled to herself but said nothing.

As they all said their goodbyes, Seojun went out the back so that he could leave in privacy. He planned on taking the long route today. A bike ride would help him clear his mind.

“Han Seojun, wait up!”

He stopped just as he was about to put his helmet on. He was surprised to find Sujin there. 

“What? Need more autographs?” He asked, cockily smiling.

Sujin made a sickened expression. “Not at all. I just… I had something to say.” She hesitated.

“Well say it.”

She cleared her throat. “It was neither of our faults. The scandal. It wasn’t that it was my building or your fans. It was someone shitty who didn’t respect our privacy. That’s… that’s all I wanted to say.”

Sujin waited for his response. Seojun could feel his face burning. He should have been the one to say all this to her, and yet here she was apologizing to him instead.

“I’msorryforwhathappened.” He said too quickly and too quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Seojun shoved his helmet on to hide his embarrassed face. 

“Drive safe.” Sujin said.

“Yeah, whatever.” He rode away.

Kang Sujin was just glad she was able to spit out the words she had been meaning to say all night long. It had been weighing on her ever since they had spoken on the phone. She had promised herself a long time ago that she would try to be a nicer person and for the most part she had accomplished that. But that Han Seojun just had a way of bringing her old self back to the surface. And that bothered her.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She would learn how to get along with Han Seojun. It was only a matter of practice. And besides, it wasn’t as if she had to be overtly obvious about it. She just had to tolerate him.

For Jukyung. It’s for Jukyung. She would want us to get along, she lied to herself. The truth was, that Kang Sujin believed that she didn’t have a choice.

Everyone loved Han Seojun, even her best friends who had never paid much attention to him back in high school. It was all because Sujin had been absent for so long. She had missed a huge part of everyone’s lives while Han Seojun had been there for all of it.

Sujin wondered whether, if it came to choosing between her and Seojun, they would choose her. A part of her believed they wouldn’t.

She had made such a mess of things before and left things unresolved for too long. She was certain that things would never go back to the way they had been, not fully anyway. There would always be a part of them that wouldn’t trust her. And there would always be a part of her that would be heavy with guilt.   

“Ah-nee-ya.” She reassured herself. “I don’t need to worry about this.”

She was glad that the whole matter of being mistaken as Han Seojun’s girlfriend had been settled. She laughed at the very idea.

“Me and Han Seojun dating. Ah, how funny.”

Sujin had heard of horror stories about how such scandals ruined people’s lives and got them shunned by society. Thank fully, none of that had happened. Her precious peace was safe again.

Sujin could see her future now; a life where she worked hard at her non-profit, where she shared dinners and lunches with her friends and laughed about the old days, where she wasn’t told she wasn’t good enough, where she did what she wanted instead of being forced to do what her father wanted. Yes, Kang Sujin could see her like ahead—a life where she was finally happy.

iii.

At first Sujin thought she was being paranoid. But her co-workers seemed to be acting stand-offish with her, with some outright avoiding her. They weren’t replying to her as enthusiastically they used to and were having hushed conversations that immediately stopped when she approached them. They even made plans for lunch without including her.

“Is something wrong?” Sujin asked one of them.

“Not at all. Shall we get to work?” It sounded more like a snub than reassurance.

Sujin also felt the hairs on her neck rise from time to time, as if she could feel someone watching her. But when she turned around, everyone would look away.

Convincing herself that it was all in her head, Sujin ignored it and went on with her work.

But then it happened again at the convenience store. She heard her name being said in whispers behind her. When she turned, she found a couple of teenagers quickly putting away their phone. Despite the anxiety bubbling in her stomach, Sujin dismissed the incident and went home.

Normally after a long day at work, Sujin would throw her phone away, have dinner while watching TV, shower and go to sleep. But today had been strange and she was feeling out of sorts. She needed a distraction to help her calm down.

So, after a shower, she settled back on her couch with her dinner and her phone. Jukyung normally posted a new make-up tutorial by this day of the week. Sujin loved watching her transform herself from an ordinary looking girl to a stunning beauty, while explaining each step.

To Kang Sujin, Jukyung was an artist who used her face as a canvas. Sujin herself had learned a lot just from watching Jukyung. She was excited about what she would learn today.

Sujin dismissed the dozens of Instagram notifications on her phone. Suah was always tagging her and messaging her about some post or the other. Sujin would get to them later. As Sujin searched for Jukyung’s channel, her Instagram notifications kept dinging. She put it on mute and played the video.

This time, Jukyung was giving a tutorial on American style makeup and how it was different from Korean style. Sujin grinned all the way through the video as Jukyung talked through her tutorial. Sujin scrolled through the comments as she watched.

My beauty Queen! I love you!

I tried your winged liner look and was able to finally do it for myself. Thank you.

I use the exact same foundation but it doesn’t work for my skin. But looks great on you. <3

You didn’t mention the eyeliner you used here. Can you please add it in the description?

This is why I have trust issues. She looks like a completely different person. This is fraud.

Sujin frowned at the last comment. “She looks beautiful either way.” She said angrily aloud as she typed it in, punching the buttons as if she could punch the commentor. Sujin scrolled further.

Who else came here after reading the Soompi article?

This comment had a lot of likes and comments. Maybe Jukyung was getting famous enough to be reported by entertainment websites now. Sujin smiled proudly.

Lim Jukyung, yours is the best makeup channel here!

Saranghae unnie

I was so sad to learn that you were bullied as a kid. So glad that you’ve found success now.

Sujin swallowed thickly. It would always bother her to know that she had once exploited Jukyung’s past bullying for her own gain. The fact that she had once contributed to her bullying would always fuel Sujin’s self hatred. She was just glad that Jukyung had moved on from her past and had become confident in herself. And more so, had found a community online that adored her.

As Sujin scrolled down some more, she noticed that most of the comments were talking about how Jukyung was a survivor of bullying.

“Mwo-ya…”

Wow, I had no idea this girl was so brave. Bravo!!!

I’m a survivor of bullying too. Its nice to know I’m not alone.

I bet her bully is watching this now and regretting what they did.

I don’t watch makeup tutorials. Came here cuz of the bullying scandal. But stayed cuz she is so good.

The last comment made Sujin stop. “Bullying scandal?”

Sujin went to Naver and searched for scandals involving Lim Jukyung. The first few links were Jukyung’s most popular videos but beneath that were a slew of articles from slanderous gossip sites.

Girl from Han Seojun Scandal Turns Out to be a Bully

Online Star Lim Jukyung Gets Involved in Han Seojun Scandal

Han Seojun’s Alleged Girlfriend was a Bully in High School

“What?!” Sujin stood up on her feet in shock. With shaking hands, she went through the articles one by one. Somehow, someone had uncovered the post from her high school community page that had revealed what she had done to Jukyung. Except they had gotten their facts mixed up and had reported that Sujin had been the one to bully Lim Jukyung about her looks.

That girl is so despicable.

Han Seojun is hanging out with a girl like her? I can’t believe it. I actually used to like him.

I bet this girl seduced Oppa. Don’t dislike him!

I am so glad they’re not actually dating.

Her face is so evil. And she’s uglier than Lim Jukyung!

I bet Han Seojun was fooled by her. She feels like the type who uses her looks to manipulate men.

People like her should kill themselves.

Guys! I found her Inssa!

It really is her! This is authentic!

The room began to close in on Sujin. She immediately opened Instagram where her account was flooded with comments and direct messages from people either telling her to kill herself or threatening to kill her.

Her heart was beating so fast it felt like she would throw it up. She was equal parts shaken and angry. So many people were after her but she hated that these people felt they had a right to treat her this way.

Sujin opened up the messages on Instagram and began firing back to her haters, starting with the most recent messages.

Get off of my account before I report you.

No thanks, I’m not going to kill myself.

Threatening me will only get you sued.

You don’t have to follow me if you don’t like me.

“These assholes think they can bully me online? Well, they’ve got another thing coming.” Sujin growled through clenched teeth as she typed away with all her anger.

I did not bully her!

I made a mistake!

I apologized!

People immediately started responding.

You’re not even going to admit your mistake?

OMG! I can’t believe you actually replied!

Are you honestly defending what you did?

You can’t talk like that to me! I’m going to tell everyone you’re a total b****

How can you be so audacious after you bullied someone? Just kill yourself.

Do us all a favor and kill yourself.

Kill yourself.

KILL YOURSELF.

Sujin screamed in frustration and threw her phone away. It smashed into the wall and landed with a sickening thud. Her hands suddenly felt clammy. Clammy and sticky and sweaty and dirty, dirty, dirty. So dirty that they smelled.

She ran into the bathroom and furiously scrubbed her hands clean. Once, twice, three times. No matter how many times she washed or how hard she scrubbed, the dirty stench of the hate she had just received wouldn’t wash off.

Her hands became all red and felt raw and exposed. But she kept on washing till she ran out of soap. She fell to the floor, suddenly weak and exhausted. The cool tiles felt nice and it was then that she noticed how hot she felt.

Calm down. I have to calm down. She breathed in, then out. In, then out. She could hear her heart in her ears. Pounding and pounding. The walls were closing in. The messages on her Instagram suddenly had voices that shouted in her mind.

Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself.

A ringing broke through it all. First Sujin thought it was in her head but no, it was from the living room.

Her cellphone. Lim Jukyung was calling.

How could she face Jukyung? What would she say to her? Wouldn’t Jukyung say the same as everyone else?

Sujin cut the call. Notifications from Instagram were still coming in. She deactivated her account and deleted the app.

Lim Jukyung’s name lit up her phone again.

She turned it off and flopped down on her sofa, head pounding.

Her fragile little hope for a good life was now shattered completely. She could hear her father now. Hear him yell at her that she was useless, that she was pathetic, that she was stupid and inferior. Unable to beat even Lee Suho.

Kill yourself.

Her father had never told her this, but he might as well have. Even now it was his voice saying it over and over in her mind. It was his angry stare she felt on her back.

How would she face people now? People would hate her now that they knew what she had done. And her co-workers…. Of course they knew. That’s why everyone had been acting so strange.

This all felt so cruel and unfair. She had been so good these past couple of years. She didn’t want all of it to just be taken away like this.

But didn’t you do the same thing to Jukyung? Her father’s voice taunted. She was a good person too, wasn’t she? You’re nothing but a piece of trash.

I bet you think that you destroyed Lim Jukyung, Seojun’s voice said, but you’ve only destroyed yourself.

iv.

SUMMARY of iii: Because of the Han Seojun scandal, people find out about the community post that revealed what Sujin had done to Jukyung and people online start thinking that Sujin bullied Jukyung. They harrass her and it becomes a scandal of its own.

It was chaos at Move Entertainment.

“What the hell happened?! You told me you settled this!” The director threw a magazine in Heekyung’s face. Seojun saw this through the glass door and barged in.

“Is that how you treat your employees?” He demanded angrily.

“Get out. Get. Him. Out! Get him out of this company for good measure!”

Heekyung pushed Seojun out before he could do anything else, dragging him as far away as possible. “Don’t be an idiot. You can’t just barge in like that.”

“But he’s being an asshole. Should I just stand around and let you take it?”

“This is the adult world Han Seojun. Actions have consequences here.” Heekyung said reasonably. “And you’re the reason he’s so mad. A bullying scandal is serious. We’ve even publicly acknowledged that you and Sujin are friends. This doesn’t reflect well on you.”

“The articles are lying. Sujin didn’t bully Jukyung in high school. She just—”

“I know exactly what she did. You think I don’t know about what happened to my own sister?” For a brief moment, Heekyung’s professional demeanor slipped into anger. But she recovered quickly. “It infuriates me that my sister’s past is being brought up like this. But I have a job to do and I need you to cooperate with me. Okay?”

Seojun exhaled. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing. The situation will sort itself out. You will need to keep a low profile, however.”

Seojun exhaled. “Noona, we need to set the record straight. Sujin is—”

“Sujin isn’t represented by Move, you are. None of us here can do anything about what is happening to her.”

Seojun clenched his jaw. “Have you seen what is being said about her?”

Heekyung looked away. “Its not like I enjoy saying this. I’m only telling you what I was told when I made the same request. She’s not represented by us. She’s not our concern.”

“Was Seyeon not your concern either?”

Heekyung had nothing to say to that. “I have to go back in. You stay here, arachi? Don’t do anything rash and…” she yanked Seojun’s phone from his hand.

“Ah!” Seojun tried to get it but Heekyung had the phone out of reach.

“I’m keeping this for now.” She said and left.

Seojun exclaimed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. Despite the animosity he had towards Kang Sujin, this kind of exposure to such vitriol online didn’t sit well with him. Kang Sujin deserved a lot of things, but she didn’t deserve this.

He knew Sujin was tough. But this kind of incident would make anyone crumble. He just hoped she didn’t do anything stupid.

v.

“Sujin-ah. Can you explain your side of things?”

Of course her office had heard about everything. Apparently her past misdeeds were a trending topic online. Her supervisor had called her in as soon as Sujin had shown up.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Her supervisor asked.

Sujin inhaled, “When I was in high school, I fell in love with a boy. But he had a girlfriend… she was a friend of mine. I got jealous… and petty. I published an unflattering video of her on our school’s online community. She had been bullied in her previous school because of her looks. So the video was especially traumatizing to her. I was responsible for what happened in Saebom High, but I wasn’t involved in anything that happened before that.”

Sujin looked at her hands, still red and raw, “I have made up with her since then. I’ve apologized. We’re both friends now. And I’m not a teenager anymore.”

Something stung Sujin’s hand. Water droplets? No, tears. She hadn’t noticed when she had started crying. But she kept her face straight even when the tears didn’t stop. She looked at her supervisor.

“I am ashamed of what I did. If I could take it all back… you have no idea what I would do to take it all back.” Sujin furiously wiped away her tears. She hated crying in front of anyone. “I love working here. I really do.”

Even as she was saying the words, she knew what was coming. Of course her company wouldn’t keep her on. Even non-profits couldn’t afford bad reputations and the fact that Move Entertainment had worked with her company for a lot of benefits hadn’t escaped her notice either.

“Sujin-ah.” Her co-worker said, peeking from the cubicle wall as Sujin packed up her things.

“What?”

“I never thanked you. For getting me Han Seojun’s signature.” The woman said meekly.

Sujin gave a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

The woman handed her a bunch of sticky notes. “These are goodbyes from everyone. We know you’re not getting a farewell party so we thought you should have our thoughts with you.”

Sujin looked down at the brightly colored notes that contained encouraging messages from some of her co-workers. Her dismissal had been so swift that she hadn’t even been given the chance to say anything.

“If its worth anything… I don’t believe any of it.”

Sujin smiled gratefully this time. “Thanks, Chulhee-yah. I appreciate it.”

vi.

Sujin was both grateful and surprised by how much her friends had reached out. Apparently they had showed up to her place multiple times to see if she was okay, given that she was not answering any of her calls. Sadly, Sujin had not been there to receive them. She had gone to her aunt’s place to get away from everything.

That had not proved to be a good idea.

“Have. You. Lost. Your. Mind!!” Each word was punctuated with a smack from a slipper. Her mother, the once elegant and graceful Mrs. Kang, chased her daughter around in the most inelegant and ungraceful manner. Mrs. Kang’s sister tried to save Sujin by stepping in between but Mrs. Kang still managed to get a few whacks in.

“How could you let a boy stay over at your place?!”

“Omma! That’s what you choose to focus on?!”

“Yes! How could you have disgraced your family this way? And not just any boy, an idol? What the hell were you doing with an idol? Come here.”

This was one fight Sujin would never win. Her mother was not a force of reason when she was this angry. And it took a lot for her to get this angry.

Sujin didn’t mind these smacks. They came from a place of love and worry. Eventually her mother calmed down enough to address the other issue with Sujin. She took her daughter in her arms and wailed.

“How could those people be so mean to my daughter?”

“Omma, I can’t breathe.” Her mother smushed Sujin to herself.

“My poor girl. My poor baby girl.”

In the end, Sujin was glad she had come back to her aunt’s place. It gave her the break she had needed. Away from all of the noise of her online haters, Sujin found she could finally breathe. She found great comfort in her mother’s arms and her aunt’s assurances her that everything would be fine.

However, the dread of returning to her normal life still loomed over her head. Sujin felt her throat close up every time she imagined going back to her apartment. Would the people point and laugh at her on the street? Would she be able to live a normal life from now on?

It was strange how deeply all of this had affected her. Even now, as Sujin walked from the grocery store to her aunt’s house, she felt the paranoia that people were talking about her, pointing and laughing, even though they weren’t. 

“Sujin-ah.”

And now it felt like they were actually calling out to her.

“Kang Su!”

Sujin turned in surprise, ready to fight whoever had called her. “Who is it?”

“Who do you think? It’s Jukyungie! ” A human mass known as Lim Jukyung ran towards Kang Sujin with arms wide open. The girls hugged each other tightly, Jukyung grinning with her gummy smile while Sujin stood, mouth open in shock.

Not far behind, were Suah and Taehoon.

“Ya Kang Su, at least answer your phone! Do you know how worried I was?” Suah scolded.

Sujin laughed, almost tearing up. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had feared that her friends would turn away and curse at her after she had avoided them. But here they were, all gathered just for her.

“How’d you find me?” She asked the three. They all turned to Suho who stood there smiling.

“Hey Sujin. Have you been well?”

Of course, Suho knew where her aunt lived.

“What well? You all know what happened.” Sujin replied, not bothering to pretend that she was fine.

“Ya! What have you done to your hands.” Jukyung held up Sujin’s scabby hands with worry.

“It’ll heal.” Sujin smiled. Maybe it was the massive hug she had received, or the fact that her friends had traveled so far away to meet her, but suddenly, Sujin felt relieved. It was as if the entire situation was trivial and that she could see light at the end of the tunnel.

“Of course we know what happened.” Suho replied.

“And we know exactly how to fix it.” Jukyung grinned wider.

vii.

On the screen, in front of a ring light she had set up at her home, Lim Jukyung stood with a gummy smile and a warm welcome.

“Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. This is Lim Jukyung here with a new make up tutorial for all of my beautiful viewers. Uh, today I have a new kind of tutorial for you all. But before we begin, there is something that I think has been on all of our minds that needs to be addressed.”

Jukyung motioned to someone standing behind the camera to come forward. Kang Sujin entered the frame awkwardly, not knowing where exactly to look. The way Jukyung had set up her studio for this live event was to have the camera, the mirror with the ring light and her laptop screen facing her so that she could do her make up while also reading the comments. And while Jukyung was used to having all of this equipment focused on her, Sujin was not.

“Introduce yourself.” Jukyung said softly, nudging Sujin with her elbow.

“Ah, yes.” Sujin cleared her throat. “Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. I’m Kang Sujin.” She waved robotically while staring in the camera like a deer caught in the headlights.

Jukyung couldn’t help but laugh. “Ya, Kang Su, are you afraid of the camera?”

“Ah-neeeee, it’s just so unnatural.” Sujin quickly countered.

“Don’t worry, the camera doesn’t bite.” Jukyung put an arm around her friend’s waist. “Okay everyone now that my friend Kang Sujin is here we can talk about the recent—”

“Lim Ju, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Sujin interrupted anxiously.

“Huh? But it’s already live.” Jukyung pointed at the camera.

“What?” Sujin on in panic.

Jukyung continued, “So everyone, as you all may have heard, Sujin and I went to the same high school together. However, before that I attended another high school where I was bullied for my looks. Sujin and I did not know each other back then and she had nothing to do with that part of my life so the allegations that she bullied me are completely false. That was another person and that person is no longer in my life.”

Sujin cut in, “However, it is true that I revealed Jukyung’s past to our school and posted an unflattering video of her online.”

Jukyung nodded, looking serious. “I won’t lie and say it was easy for me to have that happen. But… both of us have changed since then. We have grown up and grown past that time.”

The girls took each other’s hands in solidarity.

Jukyung continued, “I’m not the girl I used to be. Neither is Sujin. And while she did do something wrong… I’ve forgiven her. I would rather remember the good times we shared…” The time that Sujin caught that pervert, the time she helped rescue Jukyung from those kidnappers, the time she helped hide Jukyung’s bare face at the school trip. “There are things that I wish I had done differently too. I wish had been more confident in myself and honest about who I really was. I wish I had stood up for myself earlier. But the past is the past, and I would rather focus on the present.”

“Everyone, I am grateful for all of the love and support you showed to me. I know bullying isn’t something you get over easily and I saw a lot of you comment about the bullying that you suffered. I am grateful you shared your stories with me. I hope we can take this opportunity to help each other heal rather than put someone down.” Jukyung looked at Sujin. “Now you.”

Sujin recited nervously, “Ah. Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. I’m Kang Sujin.”

Jukyung giggled. “We’ve done that already.”

“Oh, yes. Um… I uh…” Sujin took a pause to collect herself. “Let me be the first to say that I’m not a nice person—”

“Yah!” Jukyung protested but Sujin carried on.

“But I’m also not the girl who posted that video about her best friend, not anymore. At that time… I was foolish. I let my personal problems cloud my judgement and I took my frustration and anger out on Lim Jukyung. I have regretted doing that every single day since it happened. I am sorry. I understand everyone’s anger towards me. I would be angry too if I heard this about someone else. However, I hope that you all will be able to forgive me, as Jukyung has.”

Sujin ended her speech with an apologetic bow. Jukyung bowed with her. The girls then shared a tearful hug. From the back, Sujin saw Suho give her a thumbs up. Sujin sent him a smile back. The girls parted, wiping their tears.

“Okay! Now that that’s out of the way, we can get on to the real reason why you are on here.” Jukyung clasped her hands together. “Sujin will be assisting me today.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So Kang Su, shall we bring out our model today?” Jukyung asked her with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

The girls nodded conspiratorially before turning to Suho who looked on, confused.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

viii.

“What is it? What are you laughing at?” Chorong asked Seojun as he leaned over his shoulder. They were at Chorong’s place where the boys were goofing off, playing video games and lounging about.

Seojun didn’t hear Chorong’s inquiry through his ear buds and kept on shaking with silent laughter.

“Hey, nobody said anything about me being in the video.” Suho was protesting on Seojun’s phone. Seojun turned up the volume to hear Suho’s annoyed grumbling more clearly. Of course, Seojun was going to make fun of Suho about this afterwards. 

“Just sit down, Lee Su, before I get mad.” Sujin commanded.

“That attitude of yours has never worked on me,” Suho replied coolly.

“Come on, Suho-ya. I do your makeup all the time don’t I? It’ll be fine. I promise.” Of course, when Jukyung said this, Suho melted like butter on a hot pan. Sujin rolled her eyes but it was clear that it wasn’t out of spite.

“Okay everyone! Let’s begin with the base and then we’ll work our way up! I am going to keep this look as natural as possible so that its not modifying anything but merely enhancing his features.” Jukyung pushed Suho’s bangs out of his forehead with a giant pink bow shaped clip. Seojun was quick to get a screen shot of it.

“What are Lee Suho and Kang Sujin doing on Jukyung’s channel?” Chorong asked in Seojun’s ear, shocking him. Seojun almost screamed in fear. He pushed away Chorong’s face to watch the video in peace.

In the live video, Jukyung was explaining the differences of applying make up on a guy’s face, versus a girl’s face.

“Sujin-ah. Why don’t you read some of the comments while I’m buffing in his foundation? You have to buff it in for a long time to make it appear natural.” Jukyung told her audience.

Sujin moved towards the camera, blocking Jukyung a little as she read off of her laptop. Her unfiltered face was front and center for the world to see. At this position it looked unflattering, which made Seojun chuckle even more.

Sujin read the comments in a robotic monotone, “Jukyung Unnie, I don’t usually watch make up tutorials. But after today I’m your number one fan.”

“Mwo-ya, this girl has no camera sense.” Seojun said to himself.

“Thank you! I’m your fan too,” Jukyung replied brightly.

“Your looks are always so classy and stylish.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you liked them. Let me know if there are any other looks you’d like to see.”

“Will you do a tutorial on how to wear red lipstick properly?”

“I’m actually planning on doing that soon!”

“Lim Jukyung, you are so beautiful. Marry me please!”

Suho got up to see the screen, “Who asked that?”

“Sit down!” Jukyung pulled him back as he grumbled. “Sorry,” Jukyung said to the camera, “but I’m taken.”

“Are you and Kang Sujin really friends now?” Sujin turned to Jukyung and all Seojun could see was her shiny black hair on screen.

“Dangyunhaji! In fact, if I wasn’t dating Suho, Kang Sujin would be my boyfriend.”

Seojun scoffed, “As if. It would have been me.”

On the live, Sujin laughed, “Is that so? We can still be together though. Have an affair behind Suho’s back.”

“Sure.” Jukyung said casually.

“Yah!” Suho protested.

Both girls giggled.

Suho looked miffed, “Kang Sujin, you’re blocking the view.” He said peevishly.

“Oh sorry. I’ll move.” Sujin circled around the couple to stand behind Jukyung and read the comments over her shoulder.

Jukyung read something on the screen and pointed it to Sujin, “Read that one.”

Sujin hesitantly read, “Kang Sujin, I’m sorry for judging you.” She looked up, “It’s okay. I can be harsh in my judgements too. The key is to try to learn from your past.” Sujin smiled at the camera before turning back to the screen.

“Kang Sujin, you’re pretty.” Sujin recited in her monotone voice. “Yes. I know.” She said without looking up.

“She is also super smart!” Jukyung gushed. “She was one of the top students in class.”

“Could never beat me though.” Suho said smugly, still sore about the affair comment. Both girls turned to Suho and stared. His mouth became small. “Sorry.”

Jukyung went back to explaining her tutorial, slowly performing each step as Suho patiently sat. She made his eyes look bigger and applied a natural lip tint to finish off.

Both girls couldn’t help but gawk at how good Suho look by the end. Jukyung removed the pink blow clip from his hair in a daze.

“How do I look?” He asked Jukyung.

“Too good, Lee Suho.” Sujin clapped. “Too good.”

Jukyung blushed but couldn’t articulate her thoughts. She stuttered, “Uh-ah! Let’s look at the c-c-comments again!”

Suho grinned.

“Lim Jukyung, you were amazing as always!” Sujin read aloud.

“Thank you.” Jukyung bowed.

“Watch the latest and best movies for free at—”

“Sujin that’s just spam.”

“Oh. Right.” Sujin continued, “Lee Suho looks prettier than the both of you.”

The girls’ face fell flat. Suho just looked innocently at the camera. The girls cleared their throats.

“Ah that’s all the time we have!”

“Ah, yes! Time to move on!”

The two pushed Suho out of the frame together.

“I can still be on camera if you—”

“No, I think the people have seen enough of you.” Sujin said while smiling widely at the camera.

Jukyung went wide eyed when she looked into her computer screen. “Ya! This live got 3.3 thousand comments!”

“Daebak. Good job Lim Ju!” The girls grinned, but then Sujin squinted her eyes disapprovingly at something on the screen. “Lim Jukyung, you look so ugly without makeup? Ya, who wrote this comment? User name KimChee23? Why don’t you show yourself to me and then we can see who’s really ugly?”

“Sujin-ah. It’s just a comment.” Jukyung tried to calm her.

“Comments matter too! Otherwise people wouldn’t be writing them! Ya KimChee23 where do you live?”

Seojun laughed out loud as he saw Jukyung try to calm Sujin down on screen.

“So, is everything all settled now?” Chorong asked Seojun.

“I think, yes. Just look at all the comments praising Sujin.”

He was right, the comments section was flooded with statements of Sujin being a brave person for apologizing and changing her bad behavior. 

“Great.” Chorong shook his friend’s shoulders. “Now you don’t have to be so troubled about Lim Jukyung.”

“Lim Jukyung? Why would I be troubled about her?”

Chorong was confused. He had not known about the scandal. The matter Chorong had been referring to was Seojun’s theory that Kang was apparently still after Lee Suho.

“I mean... haven’t you been in a bad mood all week because of her?”

“Why bother asking Chorong?” One of the boys said, “You know the answer to all of Seojun’s heartaches is Lim Jukyung.”

Seojun didn’t bother responding. He returned to his phone screen where Jukyung and Kang Sujin were wrapping up the live, waving at the camera with wide smiles. Suho was trying to get back in the frame and Sujin kept pushing his out of it.

“Ooh. Look at how Han Seojun is smiling.”

“Something good must have happened.”

“See! He’s always thinking of Lim Jukyung.”

“No I’m not!” Seojun protested. Quietly, he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking of Lim Jukyung.”

ix.

Han Seojun had arrived at Kang Sujin’s building an hour ago, but for the life of him he could not muster the courage to go up to her apartment.

“I have no reason to see her. So, why should I?” He argued with himself. He paced back and forth, going up the entrance and then going back again, unable to enter.

In his hands, Han Seojun held a beautiful arrangement of white tulips and yellow roses. White tulips as an apology and yellow roses as an offering of friendship. It was his way of apologizing for being a jerk.

After hearing everything she had said on the live event, Seojun had no doubt that Kang Sujin wasn’t who he thought she was. Certainly, if Jukyung and even Suho could trust her, then he could at least give her the benefit of the doubt. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time to try to make amends with flowers. But now that he was actually here, at her home, he felt stupid.

What would Kang Sujin say when he showed up at her place? Would she laugh at him and tell him to go to hell? Would she be offended that he just showed up, unannounced? The uncertainly of it all made him anxious.

As he went back down the steps to the building entrance for the thousandth time, Seojun bumped into a lady.

“Oh ma’am. I’m so sorry!”

The woman had been carrying tote bags with plastic containers of food in them. The bags had fallen to the ground but luckily, the containers and the food inside them were unharmed, just a little shaken.

Seojun looked at the woman with an apologetic face. She appeared to be a very dignified lady, as old as his mother. Her hair was up in a chic bun and she wore well fitted, albeit a little worn out, clothes. Her brows were crinkled in disapproval. But upon seeing Seojun, her face softened.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Seojun asked and his humble words spoken in that rich baritone subsided the woman’s irritation further to the point where she smiled.

“Omo, how can someone be so handsome?”

Seojun beamed. Elders had always loved him. “Ah, thank you.” He responded shyly. “Let me help you carry these.” He took the heavy bags from her, putting the flowers under his arm, careful not to smush them.

“Oh no. I don’t want to bother.”

“It’s no bother at all, ma’am. I insist.” He didn’t let the woman say another word, walking past her into the building. The woman smiled and followed.

“Are you going to visit your girlfriend?” The woman asked, eyeing the flowers.

“A friend. A friend who is a girl.”

“Is that what the youngsters are calling it these days?”

“Ah-nee-heyo. It’s not like that.”

The woman just smiled knowingly. “I’m going to visit a special girl too. My daughter lives in this building.”

They entered the elevator. Seojun asked which floor the woman wanted to go to. “Oh, I’m going to the same floor. Maybe my friend knows your daughter.”

“I’m sure she does. My daughter is a wonderful girl.”

When the lady walked in the same direction as Sujin’s apartment, Seojun said, “Oh. My friend lives this way too. What a coincidence. They might live right next to each other.”

“Then you should come over with your friend. I will cook for you.”

And when the woman stood in front of Sujin’s apartment, Seojun said, “Oh, this is my friend’s apartment. Are they roommates?”

“Young man, is your friend’s name Kang Sujin?”

“Yes, ma’am. How did you know?” Seojun asked, surprised.

The lady patted Seojun’s face, “At least you have good looks.” She punched in Sujin’s passcode and went in. Han Seojun stood outside for a full minute before he connected the dots. And then his eyes went wide.

“Sujin isn’t home yet. Why don’t you wait inside?” Mrs. Kang called out.

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I didn’t recognize you.” Seojun entered, placing the bags on Sujin’s counter.

“It’s okay, Son. You’ve known Sujin long?”

“I went to Sujin’s school. I knew her through Lee Suho.” He had only seen Sujin’s mother a couple of times at school. But never up close. She had seemed so stuck up like Sujin at the time; with her fur coats and expensive jewelry. Now she seemed like just another lady. Her appearance seemed to have humbled after the divorce.

“Oh Suho! Lovely child. How is he these days? Sujin doesn’t tell me anything.”

“He’s good ma’am.”

Mrs. Kang started lining the containers on the counter. It seemed like too much food for one person.

“Sujinnie never eats properly. She always scolds me for worrying but what can I do? She never takes care of herself.”

Indeed, when Mrs. Kang opened Sujin’s fridge, it was empty save a few water bottles and expired milk that Mrs. Kang threw away.

“And look at you! All skin and bones! It is unfashionable to be healthy these days?”

It was a complaint he had heard from his mother as well. But Seojun had to maintain a lean figure for his job, as he was about to explain to Mrs. Kang.

“Ma’am I actually have to diet beca—”

“I won’t hear it! Sit. I will get you something to eat. I’ve brought more than enough.” Mrs. Kang commanded. Seojun could see where Sujin got her tough exterior from.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Nonesense! It’s no bother at all. Especially not for,” she eyed the bouquet Seojun had placed on the counter, “Sujin’s friend.”

Seojun wanted to protest Mrs. Kang’s assumptions but figured that denying it would only reinforce the idea. He would let Sujin clear up the matter.

“Well if you’re going to cook Mrs. Kang, you might as well let me help.” Seojun often cooked with his mother and was used to being in the kitchen so his culinary prowess impressed Mrs. Kang greatly.

“Your mother must be so proud of you.” Seojun grinned at the compliment. He decided that he liked Mrs. Kang.

Likewise, Mrs. Kang decided that she liked Seojun. She put the flowers he had brought in a vase and brought it to the table. As they cooked, she went on and on about Sujin and her many accomplishments. The woman was very proud of her daughter.

Seojun listened diligently as Mrs. Kang explained how much she was worried about Sujin. The non-profit sector didn’t exactly offer a lucrative career. Not as much being a doctor would have.

“I remember how much she had wanted to be a doctor as a child. Omma, I want to heal everyone, she would tell me. But when her father started pushing her and pushing her… suddenly it was all about ranking number 1, not helping people and her heart just wasn’t in it anymore.” Mrs. Kang lamented. She gave Seojun a considering look. “Has she told you… about her father?”

About the divorce? “Yes. I know.”

Mrs. Kang looked at him tenderly, “You must really be close to my daughter then. She’s a very private girl.”

Seojun didn’t understand why the woman as acting like it was some secret. Everyone knew about Mr. and Mrs. Kang’s separation.

The woman stared into the distance. “If I look back, I can only blame myself. I should have stopped it the first day her father started hitting her. But I was blind. I believed that it would all stop if she got good grades and got into a good university. My husband was always a tough man, but had never been like that to me, you see. I didn’t realize what he was doing to Sujin till it was too late.”

Seojun froze. He felt he had been told something he wasn’t supposed to know.

“And then, she started taking her anger out on other people… it might have been late, but I finally put my foot down. I’m glad my girl is in a better place now.”

Mrs. Kang looked down in remorse. Seojun found it hard to keep looking at her. He suddenly recalled what Sujin had said in Jukyung’s video.

I was foolish. I let my personal problems cloud my judgement and I took my frustration and anger out on Lim Jukyung. 

Ah, crap. Seojun thought.

“My daughter is a sensitive girl, despite how strong she appears. I just want to know that she is with people who will care for her, and not hurt her.” Mrs. Kang looked at Seojun meaningfully. He swallowed.

“She is Mrs. Kang. You don’t have to worry.”

The woman pressed his hands gratefully. “You must have heard… about what Sujin was involved in recently.”

Seojun was sure he was going to die today. His heart felt like guilt had wrapped its sharp claws around it and was squeezing tightly.

“Ah. Yes.”

“Don’t believe any of it! My Sujinnie isn’t that kind of girl”

“Ah. Yes.”

“She did go a little astray in school, but what kid doesn’t go through a phase like that? Show me a teenager who has never made a mistake!”

“You’re absolutely right ma’am.” Was all Seojun could say.

“If only I could get my hands on that Han Seojun.” Seojun felt his heart stop. It was then that he realized that he never really introduced himself to Mrs. Kang. “How dare that no good idol take advantage of my daughter? Ah-nee, what kind of a person stays over a girl’s place like that? And doesn’t even help when she gets into trouble because of him?”

Seojun could see his funeral now, his mother crying for him as his friends lined up to regret their loss.

Guys… take care. Please check on my mother for me.

The door chimed as Sujin entered. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Han Seojun and her mother sitting at a table full of food, waiting for her.

“Ah, Omma why have you come all this way again? Do you really like tiring yourself out so much?” Sujin scolded as she hurriedly put on her indoor slippers.

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Mrs. Kang scolded back.

Sujin was undeterred. “You know I can always come and visit you and Auntie. Why do you have to come here? And look at all this food! How is this okay for one person? It always goes bad and then I have to throw it out.”

“It goes bad because you don’t eat enough, bad girl! You see what I have to deal with?” Mrs. Kang turned to Seojun who had gone white.

“Ya Han Seojun, what are you doing here?” Sujin asked him.

There was a second of silence where no one spoke. A pin drop could be heard.

“Han Seojun?” Mrs. Kang looked at Seojun. On stage, with makeup on, Seojun looked different. Here, in person, it was difficult to recognize him. But now that his name had been spoken, Mrs. Kang could see the young man whose face had been plastered all over the articles concerning Sujin.

“You… you’re the Han Seojun from the scandal?”

Sujin quickly caught on. “Seojun. Run.”

And then all hell exploded, or rather, one Mrs. Kang. Sujin jumped in her mother’s path as the woman got up with a slipper in her hand. Han Seojun lept off his chair and bowed furiously.

“I am so sorry Mrs. Kang. I am so sorry for all the trouble caused!”

Sujin desperately tried to block her mother’s blows but Mrs. Kang was a formidable woman. She smacked Han Seojun with her slipper.

“Do. You. Have. Any idea. What. Problems. You. Caused!” She punctuated each word with a smack. Seojun, for his part, did not run but rather took it like a man. He was just glad she was beating him with a slipper and not a heel.

“Run! Why aren’t you running?” Sujin asked him as she tried to grab her mother’s wrists.

“Are you protecting him? After everything that happened?”

“I’m really sorry Mrs. Kang.” Seojun said.

“Sorry? What good will an apology do? Will an apology undo the pain you’ve caused?” Her words sounded eerily familiar.

“Ah Omma, stop hitting him! He didn’t do anything. It was my fault. It was all my idea.”

Mrs. Kang stopped. “What?”

And thus, it became Kang Sujin’s turn to be given the mom-smack down.

“Ah Omma WAEEEE??”

“It was your idea to bring him home?!”

“Omma you’ve already beaten me about that!”

“I haven’t beaten you enough.”

“Mrs. Kang please! We were both drunk. Sujin had no choice but to—”

“What?” Mrs. Kang went ballistic.

Sujin glared at Seojun, “Han Seojun do you actually want us both to die?”

“YOU WERE DRUNK?!”

“Omma it wasn’t like that!”

“Mrs. Kang it really wasn’t.” Seojun chimed in.

“If it wasn’t then why is he bringing you flowers? Why is he showing up at your place?”

Sujin looked at the tulips and roses on her table. White tulips, a flower of regret. And yellow roses, flowers of friendship. Sujin knew exactly what they meant. She wondered if Han Seojun knew too or if he just got really lucky with his choices.

It was a while before Mrs. Kang calmed down. Seojun felt thoroughly sore. Both he and Sujin sat on the floor with guilty expressions on their faces, looking like school children being punished.

“Get out. I don’t want to see the likes of your around my daughter ever again.”

“Omma.”

Seojun bowed his head to the ground. “I am really sorry Mrs. Kang. I’m really sorry for all of the trouble that I’ve caused. I assure you I will never let anything like that happen again.”

Mrs. Kang crossed her arms and looked away.

“Omma. Neither of us had any idea that something like this would happen. Its not Seojun’s fault. And besides, he got into trouble too.” Sujin nudged him with her elbow.

“Yes, ma’am. I was almost kicked out of my company.” Which wasn’t exactly true but Seojun didn’t mind fibbing a little.

“You should have been!” Mrs. Kang fumed but then softened when she saw Seojun’s best puppy dog face. Han Seojun was always good with ladies, especially ones that were mad at him.

He inched closer to Mrs. Kang. “Mrs. Kang. I’m really regretful about what Sujin faced.” He took her hands in his. Sujin watched in astonishment as Han Seojun turned her mother’s boiling anger to a low simmer. “But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure that this never happens again.”

Mrs. Kang cleared her throat.

“And look, the food we both prepared has gotten all cold. Wouldn’t it be better if we all eat and talk calmly?”

Sujin scoffed, not only at the blatant pandering but at the fact that it was working. Mrs. Kang’s anger all but disappeared. It came to a point that as they all ate, she began taking his side.

“How could you risk an idol’s reputation like that?” She asked Sujin who could only roll her eyes.

“Omma, how can you say that?”

“I mean, now that I think about it, it isn’t Seojun’s fault that his fans came after you.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this.” Sujin scowled.

As dumb as Han Seojun had appeared, Sujin had to admit this was pretty shrewd. It made her wonder what else she had misjudged him on. He even got himself invited by Mrs. Kang to come by again for dinner.

“Your mom is incredible.” Seojun told Sujin as they walked to the convenience store. Mrs. Hand had sent them out for some ice-cream since she had brought nothing for dessert.

“She’s changed a lot after the divorce. She’s more herself now.”

They walked slowly, enjoying the night air and the silence. Oddly enough the quiet didn’t feel awkward or strange. Neither of them felt any pressure to speak. They got papico, the ice-cream that came in squishy bottles, and sat by on the benches outside.

“Kang Sujin,” Seojun began, “about what happened… are you… You know when I, um… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

Sujin laughed, a clear gurgle of joy that made Seojun feel strange in his stomach. “Mwo-ya? Has the great Han Seojun been rendered speechless?” She laughed some more and Seojun didn’t stop her. “Relax Han Seojun. I’m fine.”

Seojun looked at his feet. “I… wasn’t happy with what happened to do… with the articles and how everybody was talking about you.”

“Gwenchana. It’s over now. I mean I had to make another Instagram account but all in all, its not as bad now. Besides,” she tilted her chin, “do you think a bunch of cowards who hide behind usernames are enough to take me down? I’m Kang Sujin, remember? Badass of Saebom High.”

“I thought I was the badass of Saebom high.” Seojun raised a brow.

“You were the gangster.” Sujin grinned, eating her ice-cream.

“I’m glad you’re tough. You don’t let these things bother you.��

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. People telling me that I’m the worst and I should die wasn’t exactly easy.” She said grimly. “But you know what upset me the most?”

“What?”

“That I couldn’t beat those cowards up for saying what they did.” Sujin got up and punched the air. “If I could just get my hands on those twerps then I would teach them a lesson or two.” She punched the air.

The fire in Sujin’s eyes was so comical that Seojun burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh! Hajima! I’m not joking.”

“Kang Sujin, were you always such a fighter?”

“Yup!” Sujin stated simply. She sat back besides Seojun, closer this time. And he noticed. “What about you?” She asked. “How are you doing?”

Seojun leaned back leisurely, “Eh, I’m fine. I don’t worry about public perception anyway. The people who matter will know me. Everyone else is just noise.”

“I bet your fans would leave you in a second.” Sujin teased.

“Don’t diss my fans. They’re all cool and awesome.”

“What, all two of them? Do they also happen to be named Jukyung and Suho?”

“You’re forgetting Chorong.”

The two giggled.

“Did your co-workers ask for more autographs?”

“Nope. Got fired before they could.”

“What?” Seojun stood up. Sujin relayed how her company had let her go after details about her past misconduct were released online.

“How could they just fire you? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Calm down. It’s normal for that to happen.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Would you rather I get angry? There’s no point in doing that. I won’t get that job back.”

Seojun pressed his lips together in a tight line and sat back down.

“I’m surprised that you’re actually defending me.” Sujin sounded impressed.

“I mean… its wrong. Even if you and I don’t get along, what’s wrong is wrong.”

Sujin chuckled. She looked at the time on her phone. “I should get back. How are you getting home?”

“I brought my bike.”

“Your company lets you ride motorbikes?”

“Nope.” Seojun grinned.

“A’ight. Good night, Han Seojun. Stay safe.” Sujin walked back in the direction of the apartment. Feeling light and happy. While her online image hadn’t completely recovered, her relationship with Han Seojun had. She might not have to simply tolerate his presence now. They might genuinely get along.

“Kang Sujin!” Han Seojun called out to her, the woman who he thought was vile and destructive. The person that turned wasn’t that woman. It was the little girl who had looked to her father with love but only got his abuse in return.

“I’m sorry I misjudged you.” Seojun told the little girl.

The girl smiled. “I’m sorry I misjudged you too.”

x.

It was unfamiliar territory, getting along with Kang Sujin. More for the group than Han Seojun and Kang Sujin. They all looked at the pair in wonder and shock when Sujin asked Seojun to pass the soy sauce and he obliged. It shocked them further when Sujin laughed when Seojun bragged about being recognized at a department store and being asked for pictures.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Jukyung asked Sujin quietly.

“Yeah, why?” Sujin replied.

“Nothing. Just asking.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Suho asked Seojun privately.

“What?”

“You’re acting all weird around Kang Sujin.”

“Weird how?”

“You’re being nice.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“Okay! Who’s going to go first?” Taehoon asked the room, interrupting Suho and Seojun’s conversation. 

They were at Suho’s apartment where he had a karaoke machine set up. Seojun had finally relented to visiting their place and it was just as painful as he had thought it would be. It was a mishmash to Jukyung’s bright and lively style with Suho’s dark and moody one.

The posters of rock bands and Junji Itou’s mangas were something both of them shared. It was fascinating how the two of the most caring people in Seojun’s life were into such dark things. Seojun saw Sujin eye one of the horror comic book posters suspiciously, as if the monster drawn in them could come out any second.

Chorong sang first, sharing a duet with his girlfriend. Then Taehoon and Suah went next. Duets seemed to be the theme of the night. Jukyung and Suho went next.

“Alright? Who else?”

Sujin was the only girl left.

“Well I’m not going up there.” She said when everyone looked at her. She eyed the other boys, all of whom were terrified of her. Even they could still hear Kang Sujin saying Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

“Jukyung-ah. Sing with me.” Sujin grabbed Jukyung’s hand and led her up before she could say anything.

“I’m singing too!” Suah joined.

Seojun went next. His was a solo and he clearly was the best performer. His rich baritone singing in a soft melody made everyone pay attention.

“Isn’t it nice to have an idol as a friend?” Suah asked. “Its like having a private concert.” Jukyung and Sujin nodded in agreement.

Everyone swayed their heads to the beat, except for Kang Sujin who was noticing the lyrics Han Seojun was singing.

I want to give you all of my days

I want to tell you all these feelings of mine

The sleepless blue winds

Brightly light up this night

He was singing about Lim Jukyung. Sujin looked over to her friend, who was looking longingly in Suho’s eyes. The two were entranced with each other, not noticing Han Seojun who stood just a couple of feet away, pouring his heart out.

After all the fun had been wrapped up, Seojun and Sujin had been the only two to stay back. Sujin had helped Jukyung clean up while Suho went to throw out the trash.

As Sujin cleaned the dishes, Seojun sat in the living room, looking at all of the pictures Jukyung and Suho had hung up. He could see how Suho and Jukyung would sit on the very couch he was on and watch TV together or lie around reading books.

He tried to replay those images, with himself there with Jukyung instead of Suho but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to himself about who she belonged to.

“You know, Han Seojun, I just realized something.” Sujin called from the kitchen.

“What?”

“You have two hands.”

Seojun looked at her like she had lost her mind. “Wow, Kang Sherlock. Your powers of deduction amaze me.”

“So, since you have those two hands, and you’re a gentleman, why not help me out over here? I assume you would feel bad that I’m the only one doing any actual cleaning.”

“You assume incorrectly. I have no issues with you doing all the cleaning.” Seojun turned back to the TV and was promptly hit in the head with a dish rag.

“Oops.” Sujin said flatly.

Seojun got up, dish rag in hand. Wordlessly, he took out the dishes from the washer and lined them up in the cabinets.

“Aren’t you ever afraid that Jukyung will be uncomfortable about you singing love songs to her?” Sujin asked in a low voice.

“What do you mean?”

“That song you sang. My heart is full of you, I’m starting to take after you?”

Seojun eyed her. “She won’t know.”

“I did.”

“Yeah but, you’re you and Jukyung’s Jukyung.”

“So?”

“So…” Seojun leaned closer, “you ranked number two in class for a reason.”

“Sujin-ah! I told you I would take care of everything.” Jukyung appeared from her bedroom.

“Don’t worry about it. Han Seojun helped.” Sujin assured.

The pair said their goodbyes to the couple and exited together. Han Seojun said nothing when he started walking his own way, while Kang Sujin turned to wave at him but was unseen. He was too lost in his own broken heart to notice anyone or anything.

She simply sighed, took it as just a Han Seojun thing and started walking in the other direction.

xi.

“I still can’t get used to this.” Suah said, waving a spoon between Han Seojun and Kang Sujin. The two sat opposite each other and were eating their food peacefully.

It was this peace that bothered Suah.

“I mean, how can you two just get along?”

“We’re adults Choi Su. We can learn how to get along.” Sujin stated.

Suho spluttered in laughter. “I thought you said that Seojun was a giant baby with no manners?”

Seojun gave Sujin a scathing look. Sujin went pink, “I never said that! You take that back!”

“It’s still strange.” Suah leaned closer. “What happened? Have you guys settled your differences?”

“Han Seojun got Sujin flowers.” Suho said cheekily.

“Yah!” Seojun protested. But it was in vain, the deed was done, and everyone oohed and aahed at this news.

“Did you really get her flowers?”

“Wait, when did this happen?”

“Does that mean that Seojun apologized first?”

“What kind of flowers?”

Seojun looked at Suho with the rage of a thousand suns. Suho just grinned back.

“Aren’t flowers romantic?”

“Ya! There was nothing romantic about it. All I got her were yellow roses and white tulips.” Seojun defended.

“OoooOoooh. Roooses. Roses are totally romantic.” Taehoon teased.

“They were yellow. Yellow roses are for friendship!”

“So, are you two friends?” Jukyung asked and everyone looked at Seojun and Sujin.

“Meh.” They both shrugged at the same time.

“Omo! Look at how in sync they are!”

“We are not.” They both said in sync.

Seojun had to admit, their group gatherings were much more comfortable now that he and Sujin had cleared the air between them. He enjoyed discovering how Sujin was less the ice princess he had thought her to be and more a regular girl. She also turned out to be much cooler than he had expected.

She had been the only one to see his discomfort when Jukyung and Suho suggested they all go on an overnight trip with them. Going to see their apartment; the very proof that Lim Jukyung and Lee Suho ate and slept—Oh God, don’t think about them sleeping—together was painful enough. Seojun didn’t need to see them canoodling for an entire weekend.

“What about it guys? Shall we go?” Jukyung looked around as everyone nodded excitedly, including Sujin.

But then her eye’s met Seojun’s. He said nothing but he didn’t need to.

“Lim Ju, it’ll be difficult for me to join. I just lost my job, remember? An overnight trip is...” Seojun knew Sujin was just making up an excuse.

“Oh, oh right. Sorry Kang Su-ya. I totally forgot. Something else then!”

The group moved on to discussing other options. Seojun sent Sujin a grateful look. She acted nonchalant, as if she had not just overturned everyone’s plans for him.

“Thanks. For what you did back in there.” He told her as they were all leaving.

“Forget about it.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

The next time the group gathered at a fancier restaurant than usual. A suggestion by Suho who had offered to pay for the food tonight.

“This place is so beautiful.” Suah commented looking around the interior.

“Are we celebrating something?” Sujin asked. “This doesn’t seem like a regular get-together.”

Sujin had only asked for the sake of asking. But something about the way Suho looked at her told Seojun that she was on to something.

“Well,” Jukyung held up her hand, “we do have something to announce.”

And announce she did. The big fat diamond resting on her ring finger had a lot to say. And suddenly everyone erupted with joy. The girls took Jukyung in their arms, squealing and crying with joy. The boys surrounded Suho, patting him on the back, congratulating him.

All except Seojun, who just sat there in a daze. Sujin happened to look over and see him, frozen in his seat. Sujin wasn’t alone in her observation. Taehoon also noticed but missed the implication.

“Look! Han Seojun is actually so shocked he—"

Sujin made it look like an accident, her bumping into the table and sending a glass down on the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound shook Seojun out of his daze and also distracted everyone from realizing Seojun’s inner turmoil.

“Oh shit.” Sujin said looking down.

“Hey, be careful.” Jukyung said.

“You okay?” Suho asked Jukyung, taking her arm.

“Excuse me, can we get someone to clean this up?” Taehoon asked the waiter.

The fuss over the broken glass gave Seojun enough time to recover. He then congratulated Suho with a massive hug.

“You both deserve each other. I mean it.” He told Suho and he meant it.

Maintaining a fake smile over dinner was easy. Everyone else was so chatty that Seojun’s and Sujin’s relative silence went unnoticed. Suah pestered Jukyung for details: “How did it happen?”, “When?”, “Why didn’t you call me immediately?”. Taehoon made jokes about marriage being the end of romance to which Suah started an argument with him and then it became about settling matters between the two.

Sujin didn’t remember much of what happened after that, the rest of the night was a blur. She just hoped that she had maintained enough dignity to not appear as bitter as she actually felt.

Even though they all parted very late in the night, Sujin couldn’t go directly home. She needed something to ease the pain. So naturally, she went to the nearest tent bar she could find. The place seemed to be overcrowded, with people waiting outside for others to leave. Sujin managed to sneak in and grab a table.

She downed half of a soju bottle in one go but then couldn’t muster the energy to drink further. Her side dishes went untouched. All Sujin could do was stare and wonder if there was any way to just take her heart out of her chest and throw it away. Because there seemed to be no relief from this pain she was feeling.

She banged her head on the table. “Ah wae? Why can’t I just move on?” She asked herself in frustration.

“Ugh, why the hell are you here?” That irritated tone and deep voice could only belong to one person. And indeed, when Sujin looked up she saw Han Seojun a few tables over looking at her in disdain.

“Wae? You have a claim on this place?” Sujin raised a critical brow.

“And what if I do?”

“Then give me everything for free. Since we’re friends who get along.”

“No. Friends pay double.”

“How stingy.” Sujin took another shot of soju.

The man running the tent bar came over. “Why don’t you two share a table since you know each other? I have customers waiting to be seated.”

“No way, I’m not sitting with her.” Seojun grumbled.

“Aha! I knew it! Being all nice to me was just an act.”

The owner ignored Sujin, “How can two youngsters be so rude? Get up! I’m moving you over there.”

This was how Han Seojun came to drink with Kang Sujin for the second time. They both looked at each other with scowling faces.

“What happened, Kang Sujin? You were acting all happy for the lucky couple.” Seojun taunted. He seemed a little tipsy but so was Sujin.

“Of course, I’m happy. I’m so, so happy.” She said wistfully.

Seojun scoffed. “Is that why you were whining about not being able to move on? I thought you said you didn’t like Lee Suho anymore.”

Sujin narrowed her eyes. “I don’t. And even if I allegedly did, at least I held it all in. You were clearly about to run away with Jukyung before I saved you.”

“Saved me? Puh-lease.”

“Why? Do you think that glass fell on its own?”

Seojun gave her a sideways look before taking another shot.

“You gonna eat that?” He pointed a chin to her plate.

“Nah, have it.”

They sat in silence for a moment. A comfortable silence where neither felt compelled to say anything.

Sujin shook Seojun when she suddenly smacked her glass down on the table. “I’m over Lee Suho.” She declared. “I’m over Lee Suho… but…”

“Just because you’re over him, doesn’t mean you stopped loving him.” Seojun said what she was thinking.

She looked at him, her pain evident on her face. In that moment, he let himself be vulnerable too.  

“Isn’t it funny? Out of everyone I know, you’re the only one who gets… this.” Sujin said.

Seojun chuckled. “Exactly. Who woulda thought? Kang Sujin and Han Seojun having something in common.”

“You know it’s gonna hurt even worse from now on, right? We’re the closest to those two. That means we’ll be involved in everything.”

Seojun rubbed his faced. “I can’t think about that right now. Or I really will die.”

Sujin understood what he meant. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want Suho to never find out that I still like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t help that I feel this way right? You can’t stop yourself from feeling what you feel. But… I wanna keep my dignity. I wanna still be cool and… not be seen as some pathetic loser who’s still after her best friend’s boyfriend.”

Seojun took a shot, nodding.

Sujin leaned forward. “That’s why, I suggest we help each other out.”

Seojun gave her a look. “How so?”

“Well, if we see the other being too transparent, then we stop them, or at least take the attention away so that the other can collect themselves.”

“Like the broken glass today?”

“Like the broken glass today. And if it’s getting too painful, then we can just talk about it.”

Seojun laughed. “Kang Sujin, offering therapy. That’s rich.”

“Not therapy. Friendship. It helps if you talk about stuff like this.” Sujin insisted.

Seojun gave her a considering look. “What’s in it for me? These seem like things you want to do.”

“You’ll be able to attend Jukyung’s wedding without feeling like you’re dying on the inside.”

“There’s no guarantee that will happen.”

“You’re right, there isn’t. But at least that’s what it’ll look like. Think about it Han Seojun. Do you want Jukyung to always see you as the friend who is in love with her? Or do you want her to see you as a cool friend who she can comfortably rely on, without wondering if she’s hurting his feelings.”

Seojun thought about it. It felt like a bad idea. But there was a part of Han Seojun that was tired of his own attachment to Lim Jukyung. If it meant that it would help him move on, then he was willing to try anything

“Alright, Kang Sujin.” He raised his glass. Sujin clinked hers with his. “Let’s try this.”

I am bad at making memes but I do it any way

[kakashiswilloffire]

Friend Killer Kakashi

ao3

words: 2.2k

warnings: angst, mention of gore, mention of vomit, no comfort

He was ready to crawl out of his own skin. His whole body flushed with waves of heat, prickling uncomfortably in his chest, like thousands of pins jabbing both inside and outside of himself. He stopped, gripping the counter to hold himself steady while he dragged shallow breaths into his lungs. He knew he needed to take a deep breath, he was telling himself to take a deep fucking breath, even just one, why can’t he just even breathe correctly, how the fuck was he supposed—

The sound of his fist interrupted him before he’d even realized he had struck out. Knowing it would be several minutes before the pain really set in, he smacked his hand against the counter again and shook his head viciously. Silver strands, oilier than he usually let them get, stung as they met skin while the weight of his hair shifted.

He sucked air thickly into his nostrils then pawed at his nose, grimacing at the spices that overwhelmed the air around him. He tossed the pan into the sink, not caring that it still sizzled or that the oil splashed onto the cold tiles beneath him. He was trying to make pan fried eggplant to go with the premade miso soup he’d picked up last week. It had been a shitty week and he just wanted to make his favorite meal to make everything hurt a little bit less. There was no way it’d be as good as what Gai made, or whatever Dai had done when he first made it for him, but Kakashi figured it would do, and since it would be the first thing he had cooked himself all week, there should be some sense of achievement and dopamine to relish in when it was done. Unfortunately, it had gone terribly.

He couldn’t remember exactly what spices went on the eggplant. Salt, pepper, minced garlic, and then Gai would riff from there. Kakashi hated that—he was fine as long as he could follow a recipe. Gai, however, could just pour a splash of soy, or a squeeze of lemon, or even a drizzle of honey on anything and it was phenomenal, and also, unrepeatable. He could remember what the version he wanted tonight should taste like, and it didn’t matter what bottles he shook out into the pan, it never smelled right. The oil just kept popping onto his arms and hands, and the eggplant got slimier, and everything started to smell way too strong.

Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, and fucking garbage at cooking.

Whatever.

Running his hand along his forehead, he tried to find a single thought to focus on rather than the swirling mess in his head. Rin’s death a few months ago had hit him hard, much like he had hit her. He knew Gai hated to hear him think like that, but she would be alive if he hadn’t been there. If his hand hadn’t crushed through her chest, her ribs scraping along—

He lurched forward, the smell of the kitchen and the visceral memories getting to him at last. His shoulders jerked erratically as he retched into the tiny sink then sunk to his knees. The cold of the floor helped ground him while he wrapped his muscled arms around his stomach, leaning his head against the cabinet until the room stopped spinning.

Pathetic.

Obito would be absolutely pissed to know this was what he died for.

Gai wouldn’t be back from his mission for at least four more days. Kakashi was on a temporary leave pending the results of the investigation into Rin’s death. Ibiki had tried to reassure him the other day that unofficially it was looking good, and should turn out in his favor soon. He was almost certain to be found not at fault. Kakashi had scoffed—even if that was the official ruling, her murder was entirely his fault.

While they weren’t living together, Gai had taken it upon himself years ago to have a spare key, or maybe several spare keys, to his apartment copied and he kept one in a pocket in that garish green spandex at all times. With everything going on, Gai had been by every other day or so that he was in the village. The couch still had a crumpled blanket at one end he had used the last time he stayed overnight, and the one throw pillow with the Hatake crest that Gai wouldn’t let him get rid of. He tossed it out of his way as he flopped down on his back, letting his legs kick up and rest over the top of the dingy couch.

Why did anyone bother with him? Why would Ibiki go to the effort of leaking confidential information about his investigation to him? Why would Asuma invite him out for drinks every Friday night? Why would Kurenai and Genma leave bottles of sake in his mailbox with notes that everything would be fine? Why would Gai.. anything relating to him?

He couldn’t even hold the memories back long enough to successfully make dinner. He hadn’t even reheated the miso soup, and that was only two steps. He couldn’t save Obito, he couldn’t save Rin, he couldn’t convince Gai to leave well enough alone.

What if Gai was next?

Fuck.

He couldn’t let Gai be next. There were a lot of things he had failed at, but damned if he wouldn’t succeed in this. He could not, under any circumstances, let Gai any closer, any further into his life. The further away he could get the overly-enthusiastic shinobi, the better.

He nodded, swinging his legs around to the edge of the couch and letting that propel him into a seated position from which he sprang up. He walked over to the tiny end table and wrenched open the single overstuffed drawer, digging through for a pad of paper and the first writing instrument he could find, a blue pen with the academy’s logo printed on it.

Gai—

I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stay away from me. It’s for your own good. No one close to me is safe, even from me.

Sorry. Please understand.

—Kakashi

He read over the messily scrawled note, then tore the sheet off the pad and crumbled it in a fist. There’s no way Gai could read that and not have about a billion questions. Especially with how they had relied on each other through the years, from Dai’s death to Rin’s, this wouldn’t be remotely good enough to get Gai to stay away.

He sat down on the couch again, tapping the pen absentmindedly against the faded lined paper. What do you say to someone to convince them to be done with you completely?

When the key scraped into the lock, he froze.

The door swung wide open, Gai slumping into the apartment. His jumpsuit was nicked and torn and his hair didn’t have its usual luster. He was clearly exhausted, though not chakra exhausted. Kakashi felt the familiar pangs of panic begin to hit—how was he back so soon?

“Hey, ‘Kashi. The client blew the mission terms totally out of proportion—he made it seem like it’d be almost an A rank, and instead it was like a grueling C rank. We’re still not sure if the pay will be adjusted accordingly, but Ebisu is arguing it shouldn’t be because we did still run into trouble—Stone ninja near the border tried to take Chouza out. Recognized him somehow, but no worries, Konoha’s magnificent Green Beast was on the scene and we handled them without any major issues.” He grinned and flexed, posing for a moment before relaxing now that he had reached his destination and sliding his vest off and onto the hook by the door.

“How have you been? You eaten yet? Yakiniku is running a special according to Chouza—he asked me to join him for a post-mission meal and I told him I’d have to swing by here and see if you wanted to tag along. You like their short rib, right? Or are you still on the vegetarian kick?”

It never failed to impress Kakashi how Gai could fill a space, whether it be with his words, his personality, or his posing. No matter how he did it, though, it always was genuine and warm, and it was nearly impossible to maintain the solemn composure he frequently fronted. They made a nice contrast as a pair. Shame they would never have the chance to explore the friendship further.

He looked down at the crumpled paper on the ground and kicked it under the couch, setting the pad and pen aside. Unfortunately, he was going to have to explain in person.

He walked past Gai without making eye contact, the other man stepping out of his way without resistance. He lifted the vest off the hook next to his own vest, brought it briefly to his own chest, and immediately regretted it when the scent of his rival slammed into him. Once again, he shook his head vigorously, then shoved the vest back at Gai.

“Get out.”

He laughed, taking the vest back and slipping it on without understanding. “Want yours as well?” he asked, reaching for the door.

Kakashi felt flushed again, realizing that Gai meant for them to get dinner together. He walked back into the small living room, keeping his back to the door.

“Don’t need it. Get out.”

Gai’s laugh died in his chest, questions rising to the surface. “I… You okay? Did something happen while I was gone? Your investigation results? I told Ibiki to send word if they made the announcement, that asshole—”

“No, Gai. Nothing happened. I just…” Kakashi swallowed and felt his heart frost over. “Just did some thinking. Realized I’m better off without you.”

He scoffed. “Very funny, Kakashi. Come on, grab a jacket or something, Chouza said he’d wait on me to get back.”

“I mean it, Gai. You’re holding me back. The stupid challenges, do you think I actually care? I’ve always been stronger than you, and now that I’ve got the Sharingan, it’s comical, competing against you. I can see all your moves from miles away. You broadcast like a bull. You’re loud, annoying, and a useless ninja. I want you out of my life.”

There was silence for more than a full minute. It might have been as long as the two of them had gone without speaking, ever. Then Gai crossed to Kakashi in two steps, grabbing his left shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

“I know you’re not saying all that ‘cause you mean it, Kakashi. Look me in the eyes and think about this.”

Kakashi steeled himself, making full eye contact with the single grey eye. “Why don’t you think about it, Gai? Honestly? What kind of a ninja can’t even use ninjutsu? Everyone’s just humoring you and letting you make a fool of yourself. You’re a walking lesson in how to not be a shinobi.”

Gai blinked hard, his eyes beginning to shimmer. He cocked his head to the side, his grip on his rival’s shoulder only strengthening.

“’Kashi, I know things are hard for you. I know your brain lies to you sometimes. It’s okay. Listen, we’ll stay here tonight, I’ll cook, we can watch a movie or something, I’ll keep watch so you can sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning. There’s no pressure. I care about you, Kakashi. Let me help you.”

His eyes were swimming now, the passion making tears roll slowly down his face. The silver-haired man refused to move or answer. Swallowing, he made one last effort to persuade him. “Kakashi… please. Don’t do this. I love you.”

Kakashi’s heart, freeze dried, now shattered, crumbling into a powder and blowing away on a light breeze. Of course Gai loved him, and he loved Gai, but could Gai really mean that he… could he love him the way?—

Impossible.

No. Of course not. And even if he did, that just put him in all the more danger.

His resolve strengthened, he scowled back. “Fuck off, Gai. A ninja that only uses taijutsu is useless in battle. Don’t you remember how your dad died? Couldn’t save himself, could barely save you. What did you even do to try and help him?”

He was grateful for the fist that slammed into his jaw, shutting him up and knocking him into the wall.

“Fuck off, Hatake.”

He only dimly registered the door slamming, and possibly coming off its’ hinges. After a beat, a glint of silver flew through the air and lodged into the wall directly opposite the door. Slowly, he gathered himself up and limped over to it, realizing with a sharp ache that it was the key to his apartment. Turning to the mirror propped near the door, he stared down the version of him with grey circles under his eyes, thumbing at the blood growing at the corner of his mouth.

Friend-Killer Kakashi was starting to sound more like him by the moment.

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel’s Return Part 2

Continuing on from part 1 - 

https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/635068926214258688/tangled-salt-marathon-rapunzels-return-part-1

Summary: When Rapunzel tries to defeat the Saporians by herself she gets captured; but once Varian realizes that the Separatists plan on using one of his potions' destructive properties to destroy Corona, he and Rapunzel work together to stop it.

Let’s Talk About What a Let Down the Sapiorans Are

Throughout seasons one and two the Sapiorans were built up to be this intriguing race of people with a complex past and real problems that are sadly relatable to this day. They had a history, goal, motives, and special abilities like magic.  

Yet all we got was a really bad hipster parody. 

Heck, the crew can’t even keep it’s stereotypes right because they mostly slide into hippy territory instead. Hipsters, Yuppies, and Hippies are three distinctive counter culture movements for three different generations with completely different social concerns and fads. 

Basically Chris tried to “stick it to the kids” again and just wound up insulting his parents' generation instead because he’s that oblivious of other human beings.

And that’s not even taking into account that previously the Sapiorans were living on the run as nomads in caravans not dissimilar to common Romani stereotypes, so the show is once again making negative racial connotations due to thoughtlessness.

Why Do You Have a Secret Underground Room Hidden Behind Your Workshop Xavier?

Like that not a thing normal people happen to have lying around there workspace. We still are given zero explanation for why Xavier has all this plot convenient knowledge and rare unordinary plot useful stuff. 

Given his previous connection to Saporia and Zhan Tiri wouldn’t it not have made more sense to reveal that he is an actual plot important character in season three rather than keep him as just the exposition fairy? 

So Was This Before or After the Saporian Take Over? Cause Either Answer Makes This a Dumb Plan.

Why would the guards, especially Cap, just give up? Did they even bother fighting and then lost to Varian’s weapons or were they told to stand down by a brainwashed Frederic? If they knew something was wrong then why not stay and help? What makes them think they even could find Rapunzel given how no one knew where she was heading and her letters were infrequent? What difference would they think finding Rapunzel would do? 

Basically, just like with the “former cellmate” line, we needed to actually set up and establish this conflict rather than relying solely on exposition dumps. Because what we get here doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It goes against established character and leaves a lot of unanswered plot holes. 

More Promotion of Authoritarianism From the Show

Remember that these are the same people who formed a lynch mob to hunt down a fourteen year old all because the king told them to. The same king who had been lying to them for years and placed their lives and homes in danger for months. The same king who persecuted the poor and orphans for years. Him suddenly sending townsfolk to the mines isn’t anything new, so what are these people’s breaking points? Anyone else would have revolted by now.  

But noooo, they need Rapunzel to do it for them. Cause Rapunzel is royalty and they can’t do anything without royal permission because they’re sheep. Sheep that’s been subjugated for years and conditioned to be afraid of their “beloved ruler”. 

I understand from a meta point of view why you would want your main character to take charge but...

Like this isn’t inspiring.

It’s disturbing. 

Why are we promoting blind loyalty to a person who’s not earned it just because they were born special? In a freakin’ kids show no less! 

Oh and still no one bothers to call out King Frederic’s abuses here, FYI. 

Take Note That Quirineon is Activated By Heat

This will be important later on in the review. 

He’s Already Built Grenades For You. Wouldn’t Those Be Better Because They’re Easier to Control?

He’s already built explosive chemicals for you. You just used them in part one of the episode. And it came in an easy to use form rather than an unstable, and untested, mess that could literally blow up in your faces since no one, not even Varian himself, knows how to control it yet. 

You Don’t Hammer Out a Cast Iron Pan

It’s literally in the word. To make a cast iron pan you pour the metal into a casted mold. You don't hammer it out like you would with a sword or something. And you can’t even go with the “rule of cool” here cause Rapunzel surrounded by molten metal and fire would have been far more impressive looking.  

Yes I’m being picky cause I’m stalling. I don’t care. This is just yet another instance of the crew not paying attention to details like they should. 

Behold The Final Time Eugene Will Ever Call Out Rapunzel’s BS

This is the last time Eugene will hold an honest discussion with Rapunzel like an equal to her. By the end of this episode he will have transitioned into full on doormat mode. 

Also burying negative feelings and not addressing issues is who Rapunzel is. She’s been pulling this shit since day one. It’s what causes 90% of the conflicts in the show. Have you not noticed Eugene?  

So This Episode Has Contradictory “Lessons” 

The episode presents this idea that Rapunzel needs to open up to others and trust again after Cassandra’s betrayal. The problem is that the episode doesn’t follow through on that. It makes a knee-jerk decision to go with a “responsibility” lesson that wasn’t built up to instead at the last minute. 

More on this later.    

Varian Doesn’t Actually Interact With the Saporians at Any Point.

The only person Varian interacts with is Andrew. We have no concept of how he fits in with the rest of the group and what his dynamics are with them. What do they think of Varian? What does Varian think of them? The consequence to this is to further divorce Varian from narrative, even though this is supposed to be his redemption episode. 

As I said in the last part, you can easily write Varian out of this episode and nothing really changes plot wise. That’s bad writing. 

Also I was robbed of Khary Payton and Jeremy Jordan exchanging lines. I was this close to having audio material for my BH6 crossover, dang it! 

Behold The One Time the Black Lady Gets a Line!

I think her name is Juniper? 

You can tell it’s her because of the shadow on the wall.

Anyways they casted this part and only bothered to give the character a single line? What a waste! 

But this just goes back to the series' poor representation. The only WOC in the show are presented as “shifty” and untrustworthy, even when they are ultimately “good guys”. The majority of them are straight up villains tho, and even as antagonists they’re not afforded any real screen time. 

And the only other outright black women on the show is the inventor lady who was given zero respect and the ghost of a barbarian. 

Once again, I don’t think the crew are intentionally racist. I think they’re just sloppy. They wanted to be more inclusive but they failed to actually give voice to minorities behind the scenes and so failed in representing them well. This is a problem with the industry as a whole, not just this one show, and must be talked about as such if we wish to change things for the better. 

None of this “Stuff” Holds Any Real Meaning

We get several callbacks to season one through Cassandra’s personal things that she left behind, but none of this stuff holds any real personal meaning. It’s just there. They wind up triggering these big emotional reactions from both Rapunzel and Cassandra but the audience is just left confused because what they’re crying over are things that have little significance to these characters. Even this line from season one is just dripping with sarcasm and not some pleasant past memory that either Cass or Raps holds dear to their hearts. 

Way To Go, Dumbass

It’s not that she went alone, or that she broke down when it finally hit her that Cass left, that I’m making fun off. The episode already addresses those two points. 

No, what ticks me off is that Rapunzel has taken down killer robots, ghosts, and monsters before now with her magical hair but a handful of regular dudes can just bring her down? I don’t care how much alchemy they got. Depowering your main character for no stated reason just for narrative convenience is poor writing. 

Because If He Didn’t He Would Have DIED, Rapunzel!!!

He literally would have freakin died had he not done something! He was left inside a jail cell to rot away! Before that he was threatened with hangman’s noose! Before that violence from an angry crowd! Before that he was left alone to starve and/or die from exposure! There was no way out for him except to fight! 

And here you are inside the very prison that you kept him in and you still don't have the fucking self awareness to put two and two together! 

This Right Here the Assassination of Rapunzel’s Character and the Killing Blow to the Series

Yeah, and what about after the storm? Hun, bitch!?

We’ve spent two damn seasons watching Rapunzel stepping on people and making excuses for herself and the one time when she should realize her actions are wrong and finally own up to her behavior and she still does not fucking change.

This is supposed to be a coming of age story! That means the main character is supposed to grow and learn shit! But when it matters most, Rapunzel only digs in her heels and refuses to change! 

Why should I care about this character anymore if she’s just going to keep on being selfish no matter what? Why should I bother watching the show if it fails to deliver on its premise? How is this in any way shape or form an appropriate message for children!? 

If you’re watching the series for the first time, then it’ll take awhile to register just how awful this scene is and how it really is the beginning of the end, because they did have time to turn things around after this. But they didn’t, and here we are. 

This Isn’t a Real Apology

It’s not a real apology if all you do is make excuses for yourself. Rapunzel doesn’t address what she actually did wrong here and it has nothing to do with her stupid promise. 

She neglected and enabled the abuse of a child for a year and three months, and she’s not even sorry for it! 

You Were Never a “Friend” Rapunzel

Friends, actually do shit together. They enjoy each other’s company. They care when the other is hurt or in trouble. 

Rapunzel only came to see Varian when she needed him for something. Even now, after this confrontation, that’s all she’ll ever do. She does not actually care about Varian, because the creators will not let her care. 

And Here Comes the Death of Varian’s Characterization

In order to make this stupid, forced, “redemption” work the writers had to do a complete 180 with Varian’s character and his motivations. Instead of freeing his father, seeking revenge, or just, you know, surviving, he now suddenly cares about “being friends” and “being accepted by people”, only he has no reason to want any of that! 

Rapunzel is a shit friend. Heck all the mains are crap friends to him. They ruined his life and the townspeople tried to kill him. Why would he want anything to do with any of these a-holes!? 

Varian doesn’t get assassinated in the same sense as Rapunzel and Cassandra do. He doesn’t suddenly become a hateable dumb douchebag or anything, but he nevertheless has his character retroactively sabotaged by the writing.  

Uh, Were You Not There When Your Dad Rounded Up a Lynch Mob Against Him, Raps?

I believe you were. Also Varian literally told you to your face that he had to go into hiding cause the townspeople were willing to attack him just because those rumors that you failed to stop and pretended not to know anything about. 

Just because the characters shout something repeatedly does not make it true. The audience isn’t dumb. They can remember what happened only two seasons ago. 

Where Was the Inciting Incident For This Change of Heart?

Why should he even want their forgiveness? Why has he given up on freeing his father? Why is he having second doubts about overthrowing the kingdom that persecuted him? 

If you’re going to drastically change a character’s motivations, goals, and moral alignment then you need to present an in story reason for that change. We don’t get that. There’s no inciting incident on screen for us to see the shift in his character development. 

The audience is left to only infer, and that’s poor writing. The audience shouldn’t have to do the work of the writers for them.  Characters’ motivations and goals  should not be guess work. 

The only thing we can glean from this is that he had a change of heart while in prison and that’s a horrifying thing for the show to suggest. That’s basically justifying Frederic’s abuse. It also recontextualizes Varian’s arc into one of submission to his abusers and not one of learning to do the right thing simply because it’s right. 

Once Again, Were You Not There For Season One Rapunzel?

They had a year and three damn months of chances. These people actively tried to do him harm just for simply seeking help. He has no reason to trust them nor you. 

Why Are We Shoulding All of the Blame Onto the Abused Child?

Yes, he did do all of those things, technically, but they’re being presented here without context.

The Queen enabled his abuser who was threatening his life and destroyed his home. He kidnapped her as a last restore when all other methods to get out of his desperate situation failed. 

The princess he threatened neglected him for three months and repeatedly refused to help him, even throwing him out into a deadly snow storm. Despite him being her responsibility, thereby making her neglect a flat out abuse of power.  

He would have died a slow and painful death in prison had he not helped to overthrow the kingdom that persecuted him. 

I’m not going to pretend that what Varian did was right or that he shouldn’t feel sorry for what he did, but this is a highly skewed version of events that are being recounted here just to create bias in the viewers. It’s manipulative writing intended to gaslight the audience. 

Also, why does he even want a second chance!?   

Doesn’t This Undermine The Saporian’s Goals?

The Saporians wanted to reclaim their ancestral homeland so that they would no longer be a displaced people. How does blowing up that homeland help them? 

Season three just throws all logic out the window. There’s barely a single villain who doesn’t undermine their own goals at some point with their stupid actions. 

So Why Varian and Andrew Not Some Other Team Up?

Out of all of the various recurring baddies in the show Varian and Andrew have the least in common. I’m not saying that they couldn’t work together, but doing so required more set up than this. Because as is, this is a very contrived teamup. 

They have diametrically opposed goals and moral alignments. Varian doesn’t bring anything to the table that the Saporaions couldn’t have supplied themselves. Meanwhile the Saporians have failed to offer Varian anything that he could want. 

At best it’s a marriage of convenience for them to both break out of prison together, but even that is contrived because we don't know why neither of them were sent away on the prison barge with the rest of the season one villians.  

Better combinations would have been 

Varian & Lady Caine

Andrew & Lady Caine 

Varian & Cass

Andrew & Cass 

Varian & Zhan Tiri

Andrew & Zhan Tiri

Varian & Hector

The Baron & Varian

Andrew & Staylan 

King Trevor & Varian 

Like there were tons of options here that the writers just ignored, even though any of them would have made more sense than the one they went with.  

The Andrew and Varian Dynamic Can Be Seen as an Allegory for Grooming; Unfortunately the Writers Didn’t Consider That Implication.

Yeah... That’s pretty much what Andrew has done here. He’s groomed this desperate and lonely teen to become a child soldier for him. And one only can only pray that’s all he tried to groom him to do since they were trapped inside a confined and enclosed space together for several months. 

Listen, I don’t mind children’s shows touching upon darker subjects. Often fantasy is a good way for people to process complex themes and uncomfortable real world situations through the safety of fiction. It can even be helpful for those who have had the misfortune to experience certain traumas. 

I’m not complaining that TTS is too dark. 

I’m complaining about it being shit. 

All of the crap Varian goes through is just thrown in there for shock value. It’s not here to commentate on the real world nor provide a complex story. The situations are brought only to then be outright ignored. This isn’t thoughtful nor deep. It’s not meaningful nor heartfelt. It’s just hollow drama done in bad taste. 

You’re Not In a Position to Judge Rapunzel 

You got captured first because you decided to throw yourself a pity party. 

Would He Though?

I’m pretty sure Quirin is very well aware of how shitty Frederic is. If anything I would think he’d be pissed that his son, that he tried so hard to protect, was mistreated in such a hordenous way. 

This isn’t some satisfying ending to Varian’s arc. It’s a heartbreaking revelation that he’s been beaten down by his abusers.  

Varian’s Arc Isn’t Actually About Validation, and Rapunzel Giving It Here Doesn’t Really Change Anything 

I spoke about this before on its own, but Tangled the Series places far too much stock in validation. Yes, it’s an aspect of his character arc, but it’s not the end all and be all of his motivation. It’s not the force that drives him to do what he does. 

His primary goal is survival, both for himself and for his father. His secondary goal is gaining his father’s approval, but that’s not because he’s seeking generic praise, it’s because his father is emotionally distant. The “validation” is a mask for the real issues which are to fix his relationship with his dad and avoid the guilt of having possibly killed him in an accident. 

Rapunzel has fuck all to do with that. 

He doesn’t need to hear approval from her. He needs her to get her shit together and help him! 

Rapunzel’s and Varian’s Situations Are Nothing Alike and Rapunzel Doesn’t Know Jackshit

Rapunzel you were dumped by your bestie because you’re a shitty friend. 

Varian was neglected and abused by those who were supposed to take care of him. 

Unless you’re drawing parallels to how Frederic and Gothel treated you, and even then neither of them denied you basic fucking needs! 

This should be an “Oh Shit! I’ve become just like Mother Gothel” moment for Rapunzel, not an “Oh yay! Someone to share in my personal misery” moment. 

Man, Rapunzel suuuuuucks! 

Also This Still Isn’t An Actual Apology

Once again, Rapunzel is not admitting what she did wrong here. She’s not actually acknowledging Varian’s pain, nor what she needs to do to make admins with him. 

What she’s doing is making things all about herself again. She’s talking about her feelings. About what she is facing. Rapunzel is an incredibly selfish and egotistical person and the show is trying to present this as a positive thing by rewarding her for such behavior. 

Varian’s Redemption Should Have Nothing to Do with “Friendship”

Varian has no reason to want to become friends again with the woman who ruined his life and abused him. 

But more than that, redemption shouldn’t be dependent upon Rapunzel’s friendship, nor even her ‘forgiveness”. Varian should be able to do the right thing just because it’s the right thing, Rapunzel be damned. 

This cheepens not only his character development but also Rapunzel’s development as well. Rapunzel is not allowed to grow as a person and accept that not everyone wants to be her friend, and that people may have valid reasons to hate her even, and that doesn’t make them evil. 

It also rushes through Varian’s arc undermining what the audience had to get through to get to this point.  

OK, Let’s Talk About The Goatee

I wouldn’t have minded the beard had it just not looked like a fucking barcode. There’s production art where it looks fine. But just wiping it away ties back to what I was talking about in part one. It’s denying Varian the chance to grow up. This is supposed to be his coming of age story as well but the crew won't let him do that because “rule of funny” apparently overrides what the characters actually need in order to develop.  

Once again, the show isn’t a sitcom. You can have comedic moments but the comedy doesn’t need to outright undermine the drama. 

Once Again, Shouldn’t Eugene Be the First Person to Jump to Varian’s Defence?

You mean the orphan on the streets who stole stuff and fought to survive when the adults failed to take care of him? Is that what you’re talking about Eugene? Cause if I remember correctly that was you not just three years ago. 

You Mean Rapunzel Needs Him To Make Her Feel Better About Herself

Spoiler alert, but Varian doesn’t actually do anything after this point in the episode. His entire “redemption” is just about making Rapunzel feel better about herself after Cass has rejected her. He’s literally become the rebound. 

How Come Varian Suddenly Became Shorter Just for This Shot?

I know the meta reason is to reflect that scene back in Queen for a Day when Rapunzel promised him that she'd help him before everything went tits up. Where he was also drawn shorter in that episode to make him seem more verunable, but here he’s just suddenly shorter for only two shots and then suddenly back to his usual height. 

Crap like this is why I insist that Varian didn’t actually get any taller in season three. The show just has always been inconsistent with his height and most of the “evidence” for his growth are cherry picked instances where the show drew him smaller than usual for reasons, like here.   

So Where Did They Get That Much of the Explosives and How Did They Get Them So Fast?

Only Varian knows how to manufacture that stuff. Why would he make that much of it if he was still in the experimental phase with it? He’s even surprised that they have so much, so where did they get it? If they made it then, how did they make it so fast? 

So This Plan Goes Nowhere

Spoiler alert: Varian doesn’t actually get to do any of that. In fact he’s kind of pointless for the rest of the episode. 

Why Would the King and Queen Care About a City That They Can’t Remember?

Like this revenge doesn’t make sense. It’s just a contrived way to get Eugene and Lance out of the way.

If the Quirineon Explodes From Being Exposed to Heat Then What Good Does Just Dropping It Do?

Yeah, remember? The stuff explodes when heated. Simply dropping it shouldn’t do anything other than make a mess on the ground maybe. 

All That Build Up and Varian Still Doesn’t Get to Do Anything Useful

Up till this point, Varian was shown to be the most competent threat in the show. Yet here they have him be a screw up twice in a row just for comedy antics and to glorify Rapunzel again. 

If you got to nerf other characters just to make your main look good then you’ve failed to establish your main character as being capable in their own right. 

Remember That This Boy Was Trapped in a Jail Cell With This Guy for a Year!

No, I’ll never be over this.

Andrew is the most directly violent and scummy out of all of the villians in the show. 

If he’s willing to do this now, if he was willing to do this to his ex-girlfriend, then what the heck was he willing to do when he and Varian were trapped alone together? 

So Andrew Just Willingly Sacrifices His Own People Here....Even Though His Goal Was to Give His People a New Home....

People need to use this gif more often when concerning this show and the villains’ ass-backwards plans.

And yes they survive because of Varian alchemy. But that was on accident. Andrew had no way of knowing that would happen. He’s willing to destroy his own people just to blow up his ancestral homeland and for what!? What does he gain from this action?  

The Mind Wipe Kills Frederic’s and Arianna’s Characters; Littraly

Frederic and Arianna are effectively dead at this point. Anything that made them, well them, has been wiped away. Their personalities, hopes, dreams, their on going stories and development, just gone. And we never get them back, even when their memories supposedly return. 

Varian’s Not Even Allowed to Get the Idea On How to Save Corona...In His Own Redemption Episode No Less

This is his episode! We’ve spent two years building up to this point and you can’t even let him help? He’s denied the chance to make up for his own mistakes! Just so Rapunzel can play hero and be a very shallow representation of what a bunch of men think a “strong” woman should be! 

It’s fucking insulting. That’s what it is. 

Making a female character the center of the universe to the point where other people are just props for her is not empowering! 

No It’s Not!!

Uh you wouldn’t even be here had you just fucking helped Varian to being with you dumb bitch! This is very much you and your father’s mess! 

Even now, while pretending to be responsible, Rapunzel can’t actually be responsible and own up to what she did! 

She’s fucking 20 and the 16 year old shows more maturity than her! 

Also Your Hair Can Protect Two People at Once Rapunzel; Remember?

There’s no excuse for leaving Varian out of the action. We’ve been shown multiple times now that Rapunzel’s magic hair can protect her and other people at the same time. 

Having Rapunzel Save the Day By Herself Undermines Everything the Episode Was Trying to Establish

What happened to needing to “trust again” and letting other people help you? Having Rapunzel save the day alone just tosses out the lesson that the show was trying to build up to. 

The show tries to frame this as Rapunzel learning “responsibility” but that also does not work. For one it was never established that she needed to learn that within the episode itself and secondly, she doesn’t actually do anything different from what she usually does. 

Being an action hero isn’t the same thing as being responsible. Being responsible is being considerate of others, doing the borning shit or mundane crap that you hate, and being mature enough to recognize your own failings and admitting when you were wrong. 

So in the end Rapunzel is neither responsible nor more open to others. 

And There’s the Death of Eugene’s Character

Lance, who has maybe exchanged all of three sentences with Raps, is more distrught than the guy that supposedly wants to marry her. This isn’t heartwarming, nor it is growth. It’s just lobotomizing a character right in front of our eyes. 

In this very episode he was worried about Raps going to face the Saporians by herself and was, guess what, fucking right to do so. But he doesn’t give two shits if she gets blown up!? 

Ooookaaaay.....

This is the completion of turning Eugene into a doormat. From now own he shan’t be allowed to have any thoughts or feelings of his own that disagrees with Rapunzel. 

The Eugene we knew is now dead. 

But Of Course the Show Rewards Everyone for Behaving In the Dumbest Way Possible Anyways

Don’t expect any of these grossly out of character moments and oxygen deprived logic to be addressed nor fixed within the show. The series will keep on shoving unearned endings into our facing while insisting that this is positive development. 

How Did Y’all Get Here Before Varian?

Yes, he was left on a roof, but he can climb and y’all were outside of the city. 

Yeah... A Year and Half Fucking Later!

Ok, a year and three months, but that’s still not any better. Worse, all this implies is that Rapunzel would not have ever concerned herself with trying to free Quirin had Varian not broken out of prison. She would have literally left them both for dead and we’re supposed to find her suddenly doing the bare fucking minimum heartwarming and inspiring?

Where Was the Inciting Incident to Use the Decay Incantation for This? 

How did Rapunzel come up with this plan? When did she come up with it? 

When the hurt incantation was first found no one mentioned how it could be used to save Quirin. No one even gave Quirin a thought. Since then the incarnation hasn’t been brought back up, ever. This is a pretty big leap in logic for Rapunzel to suddenly think of this. 

All it highlights how Varian was originally meant to be there to translate the scrolls and incantations in order to establish all this but of course it got cut so now it just comes the fuck out of nowhere. 

Not Letting Varian Have Anything to Do With Saving His Father Is Even Worse Than Not Letting Him Save the Day

This has been his motivation since the beginning. It’s been the driving plot for a season, and now that the time has finally come what does get to do? 

Hold a dang bucket. 

Part of coming up with satisfying endings is following through on what you’ve established. The audience needs closure. Simply freeing Quirin isn’t enough, we need the carthartis of Varian specifically fulfilling his goal. 

I don’t know how to break this to you Chris, but this isn’t Rapunzel’s story. Not this segment of it anyways. It’s Varian’s and it just so happens to connect to Rapunzel’s. She shouldn’t have been center stage for this. 

The Series Blows It’s Load Too Early with the Incantations

This is the last time we’ll hear any of the incantations sung on screen, cause someone in budgeting didn’t know what was important to throw the money at and what was not. 

It’s not bad here, but if we could only hear one incantation only once this season it needed to be in the finale with the final heal incantation. 

Varian Was Right All Along

Also, all this does is justify Varian’s actions in season one. Rapunzel was indeed the only one who could free his dad according to this. For a series that desperately wants to shove all of the blame onto an abused child’s shoulders they sure go out their way to prove him right. 

So How Is the Hurt Incantation Suppose to Work?

There were so many fan theories after this scene because Varian and Quirin don’t respond to the hurt incantation the same way previous characters had. 

No one is gasping for breath, Varian can touch Raps without burning his hands, and Rapunzel can control the direction of her power. ect. 

Turns out there was nothing there, the writers just didn’t know what the fuck they were doing and made the hurt incantation very inconsistent just like all of the magic in this show. 

BULLSHIT!!!

You literally turn into a villain because she gave up on you!!!!

She also didn’t give two shits about you throughout the entirety of season two. 

Why are we just pretending like season one didn’t exist!? 

Why!?

The Note!!!

No It Fucking Didn’t!

Does That Look Like “I’m Proud of You Son” To You?

Chris went on to confirm that, yes, the note did hold more information that then got cut. Pretty much confirming all that we suspected. That Varian was cut from season two and his story hastily shoved back into season three at the last minute. 

Below is the link to the tumblr post he made.

https://cnotes.tumblr.com/post/190534585146/apparently-one-of-the-writers-said-a-while-back

What’s worse is that his defense is such bullshit. The below exchange pretty much sums it all up.

This Doesn’t Actually Resolve Anything and Is Therefore Unsatisfying to Watch

Part of the reason why this conclusion doesn’t work is because it doesn’t actually address any of the problems that they have in their relationship. Quirin never owns up to what he did wrong. There’s no discussion of what Varian was up to while he was entrapped, no conversation about what secrets Quirin hid from his son, and zero admission of wrongdoing on either side.   

Also Varian has done nothing significant to earn those particular words. Saying I love makes sense, but in context saying “I’m proud of you” does not. It doesn’t even work on a meta level cause the episode prevented Varioan from accomplishing anything. 

It’s empty. 

There Could Have Been More Screen Time to Fix This If Not for Season Two Mucking About

https://discord.com/channels/427940661589704715/569296212218347522/777635115978457098

Above is the link to the original storyboards. It doesn’t fix everything but there’s a lot more satisfying emotional beats including adding Ruddiger back in who is suspiciously absent for the entire episode for no stated reason. 

This version was cut due to time. Which, like with the Crossing the Line song, didn’t need to be had they been more effective with their usage of time in season two. 

They also could have had a better conclusion to Varian’s arc in general had he not been cut from season two altogether. 

So What Does Freeing Quirin Add to the Series?

I’m serious. What does freeing Quirin at this point and time do for the story?

It doesn’t add any character development, Quirin just wanders around aimlessly in the background until the finale and even then his part in that is a pointless dead end. Varian doesn’t gain his emotional closure, just empty, hollow “praise”. Nor is he allowed to accomplish any of his established goals. No new lore or history is exposed. No mystery uncovered. 

There’s no reason why this couldn’t have been done later in the season. Provide more tension and keep up the consequences of the characters actions. Give the mains something to do and work on until Cass and Zhan Tiri show up again.  

The only reason why this is here is to wrap Varian’s story up as soon as possible so he won’t “steal Cassandra’s spotlight”. That’s it. He’s rewarded for conforming to Rapunzel’s will and all the fans should shut up and be grateful, at least according to Chris.

I Like This Song But It Wasn’t Needed

It doesn’t add anything to the story. It’s just a generic celebration song. Which would be fine if it wasn’t for the fact that we have a limited number of songs, even less than in previous seasons, and the story isn’t over yet. This is the wrong place to put a victory song at. 

Especially when we could have had a song that furthered Varian’s redemption instead.  Yeah, that was cut too. 

So Is Varian the New “Lance” This Season?

He’s right there! This is his dang focus episode! 

Why hire Broadway singers and not let them sing!? Why waste talent and money like that? 

Also These Lyrics!

Did Glenn Slater just not read the scripts before writing the songs? That’s all season three ever does! Give the mains what they want without earning it. Even in this very episode!

So Is This Rapunzel’s 20th Birthday or Not?

Ok I have gotten into many a heated debate about how long season three is supposed to be. And that’s because what the crew says doesn’t match what the series shows us. 

By all accounts this should be Rapunzel’s birthday. According to season two she’s been gone for one year, and there’s the lanterns that they fly specifically on her birthday. 

But no one verbally says it’s her birthday and I’ve heard conflicting accounts from different members of the crew. Some stating that it is her 20th birthday and some disagreeing that it is. 

Well I’ll take what evidence that the show actually presents to its audience on screen over what the cast and crew says after the fact any day of the week, so I’ll be gathering up this evidence and proving by the end that season three is two years not one. 

But the fact that I must comb through series to prove this, the fact that we can even have this debate, and the fact that the crew have to state basic info after the series is over is just proof of the bad writing. 

Fun Fact: Cupcakes Weren’t Invented Until the 20th Century

Yeah, that’s the fault of the OG film, and yeah it doesn’t really mean much, but still it’s one more thing to add to the pile of stuff that doesn’t fit. 

Plus I’m just a hardcore nerd for historical cooking and I like to share my knowledge.  

Yeah But How Can He Trust All of You Again?

You’re the ones who let him down first; repeatedly. And you only started to make things up to him once he became useful to you. What assurance does he have that you won’t mistreat him again next time he’s in trouble or is no longer of any use to y’all? 

Yes, Let NOT Show What the Main Character Is Actually Going Through

Yup, this is “Rapunzel’s show” but we’re not going to let Rapunzel have any focus on her feelings or give any insight into her thought process about what is the main conflict of the series now.

Conclusion

Ducktales was robbed! 

I can’t believe this shit won an Emmy for “best writing.” It utterly fails on every possible level. It fails to be a continuation of the ongoing story and it fails to be a stand alone episode. Even the very structure of the story is fundamentally flawed. The only reason why it’s not the worst episode of the entire series because the finale and the penultimate episodes exist. 

Anyways...I finally made it through. It literally took my entire weekend but I’m finally caught up. Next week I’ll be going back to the usual one episode a week schedule. 

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter two.

wc: 2,337. original publish date: october 3, 2020.

"'And oh, Aunt Em! I'm so glad to be home again!' The end," Van Gogh finishes, closing the children's book and setting it on the table.

"That wasn't a bedtime story!" JFK protests.

"I didn't know that!" Van Gogh volleys.

"What do you mean you didn't know that? Everyone knows The Wizard of Oz!"

Van Gogh shakes his head, almost apologetically. "Clearly not everyone," he mumbles.

Kennedy sits up, a bit taken aback. "You mean you've never read The Wizard of Oz?"

Gogh shakes his head, sliding the book off the table and stroking the cover. The yellow finished cardboard is bumpy beneath his fingernails, and it makes a low scraping sound.

"Surely you've heard of it?" JFK asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"No," Van Gogh admits, feeling defeated.

Kennedy unwraps himself from the blanket and sits up, scooting across the bed to console his best friend. He puts a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, but it is only shaken off. His kind gesture and caring attitude deflate like a released balloon.

"I thought every children's book was a bedtime story."

"Nah, but every children's story has a moral," JFK offers.

"How do you know that? Can't imagine heartless ol' JFK reading a picture book. I can't even imagine him as  toddler."

Kennedy graciously ignores the first part of Gogh's comment. "My dads used to read them to me when I was a kid."

Van Gogh's smile falls, but thankfully JFK can't see because he's looking down at the book. He runs his fingers over the words, printed in accented letters, shiny and blue. "I bought this book when I was fourteen years old," he admits.

"You bought it for yourself?"

Van Gogh nods, still entranced by the golden-yellow cover of the children's book. "I liked the artwork," he explains, looking up at his best friend now.

Kennedy scoots away from Van Gogh, falsely assuming his work as Supportive Best Friend is through. "You would. It's all oil pastels and shiny objects -- very girly."

Gogh rolls his eyes. "Not all artwork is girly."

"No," JFK agrees, "just the artwork you like."

Van Gogh shoves the boy, not sorry when he hits his head on the wall.

"Hey!" He bellows, rubbing the back of his head vigorously.

"You deserved that," Van Gogh snaps, standing up to slide the book back into its rightful place on the shelf. "Do you ever get tired of your own voice?"

"Um... no?" Kennedy replies, laughing at his own answer.

Van Gogh runs a hand through his vibrant orange hair in exasperation. He snaps the pristine white bandage wrapped around his head, tied there to put pressure on his self-amputated ear in hopes to relieve some of the pain. It works most days, except when there are loud noises -- like on Friday nights when there are sports games and the streets flood with intoxicated teenagers who insist on letting their excitement out through violence. JFK used to be amongst those alcohol-ridden invalids. He's not anymore, but Van Gogh can't figure out why he changed.

But he's still an arrogant, egotistical asshole nonetheless.

Van Gogh scoffs, tempted to shove the boy again, but decides not to because it may escalate into a fight. Gogh would lose. He loses against everyone, his five-foot-five stature doing him not favours. He knows Kennedy could pin him to the ground in three seconds. His shoulders tense just thinking about it and the illusion of pain makes his bad -- or rather, nonexistent -- ear throb. He raises his hand reflexively, rubbing the side of his head over the bandage.

"Does it hurt?" JFK asks, suddenly dropping his macho-jock façade.

Van Gogh bats his best friend's hand away almost instinctively. "I'm fine. Sorry. It just rings sometimes. No big deal."

"Sounds like a big deal."

"Well it's not, okay? I said I'm fine, so I'm fine," Gogh replies.

JFK holds his hands up in surrender. "Jesus Christ, I was only trying to help."

"I appreciate that," Van Gogh sighs. He looks up at Kennedy and opens his mouth like he has a follow-up, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth and looks away. JFK raises an eyebrow, having noticed the boy's jaw, but doesn't press. He wouldn't want to push his best friend over the edge. God knows he's already so close to the cusp of a fall anyway.

"Your parents coming home soon?" Kennedy asks, reaching for small talk.

Gogh shrugs, eyes fixed on his shoes. He wears black Keds with white toe-tips. The laces are tied in tight bows and are as pristinely white as all of his other possessions -- he'd expect no less from himself. "Who cares?"

"You can't stay here alone on a Friday night," Kennedy says.

"That's why you're here, dipshit," Van Gogh rolls his eyes.

"No, I mean-" JFK sighs. "The whole night. You can't sleep in this house all by yourself."

"Why not?" Gogh asks, looking up at JFK now. The rims of his eyes are red and his jaw is tensed.

JFK huffs, sure the boy is just being difficult now. "Because."

"Because why? Adults do it all the time."

"You're not an adult, Gogh. You're sixteen."

"So?" He spits. "You're sixteen and your dads let you do whatever -- whomever -- the hell you please!"

"This isn't about me, Van Gogh, it's about you and your apparent abandonment issues!"

"I don't have abandonment issues!" He means it to come as an angry denial, but it comes out as a scared protest instead. He tries again, steadying his voice. "I don't have abandonment issues."

JFK shakes his head and raises himself off the bed. "I don't have time for this. Do you want me here or not?"

Van Gogh pulls his socked feet onto the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. His absence of an ear throbs again and it skews his hearing, but he doesn't let on. He's so tired of this up and down with JFK -- they fight, Gogh falls into a vulnerable state, Kennedy drops the argument to console him, Gogh says he's fine, and the cycle repeats. Either they're fighting or they're not. I can't be held hostage by my mental illness, Gogh thinks. I won't be made into a fool.

"Not," he swallows the word, his voice nearly cracking.

"Gogh..." Kennedy says, dropping his attitude.

Gogh wipes at his face, trying to play it off as swiping away mucus from a cold-caused runny nose. "I'll be okay, Kennedy."

Kennedy stands in the doorway, one hand on the smooth white trim -- as pristine as the rest of the room -- and the other hand limp by his side. He turns around to look at Van Gogh, who won't meet his gaze, and thinks of crossing the room to him. He looks so small on that wooden chair, his plain bed made up with hospital corners and brand-new-car-tidy floor filling up with absence. JFK wants to stay with his best friend to make the room feel smaller, to make the house feel fuller, but he knows when to stop pushing. Sometimes it hurts to be edged out of Van Gogh's life... but then again, he's used to it. He's used to being treated as the boy's second choice because sometimes it's easier to confide in a stranger than a lifelong friend. Kennedy doesn't know, but he understands, and sometimes that has to be good enough.

JFK drops his hand from the trim of the doorway and turns back around to face the hallway. He walks between the walls as they close in on him, creating a suffocating ocean with their murky blue hue. He exits the house without glancing back at Van Gogh, forgetting to wonder if he'll be okay. He hates sports games because they make his ears ring, Kennedy reminds himself. Being there won't stop that.

***

John F. Kennedy walks through the door of his house at precisely 8:32pm. His foster dads are both sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with each other, watching a movie that must be pretty damn entertaining with the way they keep giggling. John hates it when people giggle -- the sound reminds him of butterflies, light and airy and so fragile it can't help but be crushed. "Giggle" is a gross word, too. It's made up of all the letters that no one likes to read to form sounds that no one wants to hear. Well, actually, that's not true -- plenty of people like the letters; they're just too predictably common for JFK to enjoy.

"Dads, I'm home," John announces halfheartedly. His parents are so absorbed in the television show that they barely look up -- maybe that's for the best. Arguing with Van Gogh never leaves Kennedy in a very chipper mood.

He sulks up the stairs to his bedroom, gripping the wooden railing firmly in his ascent. He tries to make a point of stomping just so his dads will turn his way -- he's not in the mood for talking, but he's accustomed to demanding attention.

John flops down on his bed -- it's king-size which means it takes up the majority of the room, but Exclamation!'s biggest playboy has got to decorate his bedroom for the aesthetic somehow. Kennedy's phone buzzes and when the screen illuminates with the name Cleo printed in thin white letters, he almost smiles, but remembers he's still blowing her off. He can't figure out why; most nights he would be ecstatic to whisper sweet little nothings in her ear. He starts to feel bad about ignoring her, but then remembers that she isn't his girlfriend -- he doesn't owe her anything. And even if he did, everyone's expectations of him are so low that even the bare minimum is seen as a prayer answered by god themselves.

He means to only flip his phone over to hide the screen, but he accidentally pushes it off the edge of the bed. It bounces on the carpet, landing corner-first, but JFK is too tired to care about whether or not the screen is cracked. He rolls over onto his back, folding his arms over his stomach and staring at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. His head starts to rush -- possibly from the cold air intruding his bedroom from the open window, or more likely from emotional strain. He replays through the day, memories of Cleo's hand grasping his bicep and him leaving her alone to go help Van Gogh. Everyone always wants a piece of John F. Kennedy. He never meets anyone's expectations, and yet, everyone religiously seeks his approval.

"Fuck them for relying on me as their source of entertainment," he mutters up at the ceiling. "I wish no one in this goddamn town knew me at all."

And yet, there's still one person exempt from the statement. Sure, everyone in Exclamation! is mushy-headed and smooth-brained, but going to high school here is a pit stop in JFK's life, and a vital one. Because while 99.8% of the Clone High student body give Kennedy a stomachache, there's still 0.2% to be taken out of the perfect whole.

JFK rolls -- no, literally rolls -- off of his king mattress to reunite himself with his phone. He taps the screen, lighting the machine to life. He slides away the "missed call" notification, erasing Cleo's name from his home screen. He unlocks the device and taps on a contact, which speed dials a certain someone wallowing in their room on the other side of town.

The phone goes to voicemail once, twice, but Kennedy doesn't give up. He knows the boy is receiving his calls -- it's not like he wants to be alone on a Friday night.

But then again, he might be drawing or painting or reading a book or doing homework or-

Van Gogh picks up on the second ring of the third call. "Leave me alone, JFK. I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

The line goes silent as Van Gogh fishes for an answer. He comes up short. "Look, I told you to leave because you upset me-"

"Let's go on a trip," Kennedy suggests, intentionally cutting off his best friend to avoid an uncomfortable conversation that would probably result in tears, yelling, or both.

"What?"

"Let's leave Exclamation!. I'm tired of it here, and I know you're not too crazy about it either."

The line goes silent again as Van Gogh hesitates. "Kennedy, that's absurd."

"How do you figure? It's not like your parents would miss you," he replies without realising how it sounds.

Thankfully, Van Gogh doesn't comment on it. If he's hurt by his best friend's words, he doesn't let on. "But we have school..."

"I don't care about school."

"But I do," he says, icicles freezing over his voice.

"Please, Gogh? I need a break from it all."

"What do you need a break from? You're everyone's favourite jock. Scudworth loves you. You're somehow pulling straight As even though you never do your work... I'm betting you're banging one or all of your teachers."

"I am not banging all of my teachers!" Kennedy exclaims defensively.

Van Gogh smirks through the phone. "But you are banging one."

JFK shakes off the boy's words. How does the point always manage to get away from him? "I know you're unhappy, Van Gogh."

"That's an understatement," he scoffs.

"Right. Well, don't you want to explore the world?"

Van Gogh doesn't respond.

"Draw? Read? Write?"

JFK still isn't selling him.

"Paint?" Kennedy tries one last futile hope.

Gogh's ears -- ear -- perks up. "Paint the whole world?"

"Well, we'd only be visiting a little at a time-"

"Okay," he replies too hastily, cutting off his friend. He swallows, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down as if the boy can see him through the phone. His fingers snag on the bandage again. He gives up. "Okay. Let's go on a road trip."

"You mean it?"

"Sure." Van Gogh can hear Kennedy smiling through the phone, his expression melting like honey and dripping down the line. "Why the hell not?"

[yelenasdog]

hurricane (brian may x fem reader)

request by the wonderful @speciallyred w prompts 45 and 58 from this prompt list! i was super nervous to write this bc i love her writing but i hope u enjoy!!

genre: per request of anna, angsty! but it ends w some fluff to mend ur broken heart hehe

summary: he’s never home, and neither is she. he can’t communicate, and she just wants to be loved.

words: 1.5k this was supposed to b a drabble OOPS

warnings: crying, sadness, mentions of marriage+kids, mentions and accusations of cheating, i think that’s it but as always, lmk if i missed any!

a/n: ok so a. y/n wasn’t used so if u wanted this do bri x some other female or oc that would work, and b. i also didn’t use anything that would keep this from being able to be read as a gwil!bri fic :) mwah (also i just realized this but this could totally be a song fic for i want love by elton john ok bye luv u)

 ⭑ 🎸

It was deathly silent in the spacious former home of Brian and his beloved, that had now been reduced to only a house. The ticking of the grandfather clock he had insisted that they had to have when they moved in could be heard ringing out and echoing, pestering the girl to no end.

It was always quiet in their house, even when they fought. There was never a rushed bustle of children you had to get out the door to school, and not even a cat or dog to create a disruptive chaos as they ran about, muddy paws leaving marks on the floor.

There would be the occasional record playing lowly, the notes floating about the house, and sometimes if she couldn’t sleep, she would have Bri play her a soft tune on his old acoustic, his voice having no issue bringing her to rest.

But even now, during one of the most heart wrenching fights that the pair had gone through, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the hardwood flooring.

As Brian was a soft and gentle man, never yelling or raising his voice in the slightest. He wasn’t mean or cruel, in fact, his entire aura calmed her to no end, which is why she supposed she hated this so much.

She scanned with careful eyes over his silhouette, watching as stray curls rustled from the draft coming in from the open window, goosebumps raising on both of their exposed arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just you, Bri.”

He rolled his eyes from where he sat on the white sofa, moving his fist under his chin. A scoff fell from his rosy lips as he turned his head to look out the window, not actually paying any mind to the green hills, a light frost covering the entire landscape.

“So are you just going to ignore me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

A salty tear rolled down her face, the incoming breeze hitting her dampened face. She inhaled sharply, her chilled skin becoming slimy and cold to the touch.

Brian wouldn’t know that, though, he hadn’t touched her in days. Weeks, even.

She had wanted to say that his words were malicious, with venom dripping from his tone, like some sort of acid was coating his vocal cords.

But they weren’t. His voice never raised a damn octave, staying completely neutral. And it was driving her mad.

“Then what is this, Brian?”

“I’m collecting my thoughts.”

She laughed, the sound lacking its usual melodic intonation that the guitarist adored so much. He was the reasoning behind the dry chuckle, that much he knew, and he hated it. God, how he despised it. But, he would never let it show. How could he, when he was the initiator of the (extremely childish, now that he thought over it) conflict to begin with? He knew his accusation was emptier than the large building they resided in, and he knew that the results would be horrendous.

But jealousy was an ugly green parasite that had rooted itself in Brian May’s heart, slowly consuming him from the inside out. It was like a devil that rested on his left shoulder, insisting that she was unfaithful, taking advantage of his extended leaves. He foolishly acted on the devil’s words, which led to where they were now.

“Well, how long do you need to ‘collect your thoughts’?” She folded her leg under her opposite thigh, leaning towards him, the distance of only a few feet feeling like worlds away to her broken heart. She would always be drawn to him like some sort of magnet, no matter how badly he hurt her.

“I’m not sure, would you like me to do so elsewhere?”

A beat passed.

“Why, so you can go shag someone else, just like I apparently have been?”

Again, silence.

“You were gone for 3 hours every night on every Tuesday the past month-“

“You kept track? You’re out of your damn mind.” She raised her voice, sitting up, suddenly enraged with his obsessive distrust rather than saddened.

“That’s not important-“

“What’s important is that you’re gone on tour for 10 times as long as that, leaving me here completely alone to my own devices! I trust you enough to believe that you remain mine while you’re away, but for some unknown reason, you can’t manage to think the same about me.”

His flippancy on the issue at hand agitated her (or his lack thereof in general, she supposed) to no end. She wanted him to scream and cry, to throw something, to loudly shout, to shed fury fueled tears as she had. She knew it was wrong, but quite frankly she didn’t care.

He tried to speak up for himself, stuttering out something about how he did in fact trust her, but all to no avail. She would have none of it, not now.

“What’s important, Brian, is that every Tuesday, I’m staying 3 hours after work to try to make it so that I don’t have to rely on you for money, because I don’t want you to think even for a moment I’m with you just because you’re some incredibly famous rockstar who happens to be loaded!”

She was standing now, although she couldn't quite remember bringing her body from the comforts of the soft chair by the mantle to her feet. The roaring fire beside her had died down into a flurry of golden embers, heat still radiating from the pile of charred logs, Brian failing to provide even a fraction of the same warmth.

“Because I love you, and as of late, I’m starting to wonder if you love me too.”

He stood, walking over to where she was in a timely manner, his long legs carrying him quickly. Her breath hitched at their sudden proximity, her surprise only growing when he gripped his hands on either side of her face, pulling her forward and capturing her lips in a long awaited union.

She loathed that her stiff figure was melting into him faster than she would like to admit, and she even more, she loathed the fact she knew she always would.

He was able to taste her tears that hadn’t ceased to roll down her face, the bitter droplets seeping onto the tip of his tongue. He pulled away, his right hand caressing her cheekbone while his forehead rested upon hers. His bottom lip quivered, a wave of emotions hitting him like a hurricane in full force.

His eyes become glassy, and all at once, tears flood his eyesight, pouring down his flushed features. He looked down, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. The bawling didn’t stop as he had hoped, though, it just slowed, the liquid dropping onto her shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much that it hurts. And ’m sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry, darling.”

She smiled softly, lightly massaging the top of his scalp, his locks growing frizzy.

“I know. But it’s just so hard- It seems everyone is getting married, and settling down. Hell, even Fred has his cats.”

They both laughed, and she chewed her bottom lip, a habit of hers that Bri had picked up on in the time he’d known her.

“I just get lonely, Bri, and it feels like you never let me know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. That’s all, honest to God.”

They moved to sit down, and he pulled closer than they had been in ages.

“I’ll support you in any way shape or form, no matter what, yeah?”

She simply nodded, leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yeah. I know.”

Raising his eyebrows, he cocked his head, choosing his next words carefully.

“And if you’re serious about, y’know, having a family and ‘settling down’ and everything, I’ll do it.”

She met his eyes, her smile growing wider.

“Really?”

He hummed, nodding his head. “I love you, and this house is far too quiet.”

She giggled, tossing her arms around his neck and throwing herself on him.

“I must say I agree.”

After the grins had retreated into soft smiles, and the two had come to a much more stolid point, she sat up, patting her lap.

Brian understood immediately, laying his tired head down and allowing her to play with his hair. She moved her hands to oh so lightly trace the crook of his nose and the bags under his eyes (from the late nights he spent performing, wishing he was in the exact position he was in now), the ticklish feeling making him nuzzle into her hand with a whine.

She couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful boy beneath her, as even with all the work that there was to be done between them, she felt confident that he was in it for the long haul.

🦔⭑ 🎸

me @ u for reading that

ty for reading, like and rb if u wanna :) go drink some water and eat some protein if u can!

as always, xx hj <3

[robininthelabyrinth]

I need to know what u think of an AU where JC is the one who dies (sacrificing his life to save WWX) instead of JYL, he’s not as angry with WWX bc JYL is still alive so when he sees his brother about to get murdered he just steps in front of him while JYL and WWX see :) I don’t even know what I want u to do with this? Give me some headcanons? Is it a prompt? Idk I just want u to to see what u make of this (I promise JC is my fav but my mind likes to make me suffer :p)

1

It wasn’t a matter of conscious thought when Jiang Cheng threw himself between that cultivator’s sword and Wei Wuxian’s unguarded back, all his defenses down in the face of Jiang Yanli’s pleading, same as always; it was just instinct. Wei Wuxian was always the troublemaker, the crazy one, and Jiang Cheng always the one being dragged along; he’d long ago learned to spend all his time watching his shixiong’s back, keeping him away from dogs, away from angry shopkeepers, away from any harm. It was instinct, just as it had been the day he’d thrown himself out into the street to distract the Wens, and he’d always justified that instinct because he knew that Wei Wuxian would do the same for him.

Though – he didn’t know that anymore, not after everything that happened recently. Wei Wuxian had made him all the promises in the world, to stand by his side through wind and lightning, and he’d seemed to have no issue abandoning those promises, picking the remnants of the Wen sect over the remnants of the Jiang sect without a moment’s hesitation and not even the courtesy of an explanation.

The Yiling Patriarch was all but a stranger to him, and Jiang Cheng still didn’t understand why.

So it was probably stupid of him to react as if the person being stabbed at was Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch – stupid of him to give up his life for someone who didn’t care about him nearly as much as Jiang Cheng cared for him.

But that’s why it wasn’t a thought. It was instinct.

He heard someone scream “Jiang Cheng!” as if their heart were breaking, and he thought for a moment that it was Wei Wuxian again, the one who loved him best. Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch, who threw him to the dogs over and over again, put his sect at risk of utter destruction a second time over, just to indulge himself and his bizarre fixation on saving the Wens at the expense of everyone else. Who didn’t care about their duty to their sect, to their parents - who didn’t care about him at all.

Jiang Cheng’s heart hurt. It was probably just the sword that’d just been driven through it, though.

Hands grasped at his clothing, pulling him back; his sister’s face had lost all blood, and Wei Wuxian looked as if his world had ended – he wasn’t sure why. Jiang Yanli had her son to care for, a new life in Lanling that she refused to abandon even if Jin Zixuan was now gone; Wei Wuxian had his Wens, his new cultivation – perhaps it was some little regret, far too late, for the Jiang sect that would now come to grief, leaderless, the end of their family line and the disappointment of their ancestors. Jiang Cheng’s final and most absolute failure.

Jiang Cheng looked at them both, the ones he loved the most and who had left him without a single glance backwards, and found with his last breath that he had nothing to say to them.

He closed his eyes so they wouldn’t have to.

2

The battlefield was full of corpses, and Jiang Yanli didn’t care about a single one of them.

“Do you think he can be brought back, the way Wen Ning was?” she asked, holding the corpse in her arms as if it were still the baby brother she sang songs to as a child, the little crybaby who was so fierce on the outside and so soft on the inside. She had been able to lie to herself with Jin Zixuan’s body – he almost looked as though he were sleeping, head on the pillow beside her own – but Jiang Cheng had never slept well in his life, his brow always furrowed as if he was worrying about something even in his dreams, and the blank peace on his face was so wrong that she couldn’t bear to look at him.

She wasn’t asking Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had only stopped the massacre when Lan Wangji, of all unlikely people, had bodily tackled him; everyone had always said that the Second Jade was like oil and water with her A-Xian, but he’d unexpectedly taken their side in this battle and was even now letting a barely-conscious Wei Wuxian sob Jiang Cheng’s name into his collar. He looked silently at her, his gaze a quiet reminder that her question was inappropriate – one Ghost General had already been enough to cause all of this tragedy, and certainly no one would ever accept another as a sect leader.

She looked steadily back at him, indicating in return that she didn’t give a damn about the standing of the Jiang sect if it meant she wouldn’t have to bury her baby brother.

Lan Wangji hesitated, looking down at Wei Wuxian. “You cannot stay at Yiling,” he finally said. “After this…”

They’d killed people from virtually every sect; no matter who had sympathized with Wei Wuxian before this or how much they felt he was wronged, they would have no choice but to raise up arms against him.

Jiang Yanli understood. They would be fugitives, condemned by all. She didn’t care. “Will you help us?”

He nodded and stood, Wei Wuxian cradled as gently in his arms as she held Jiang Cheng in hers.

“Will you come with us?” she asked. Anyone who loved her brother enough to defy his sect, to stain his untainted blade with the blood of his own kin, deserved a chance to court him properly, if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions; she didn’t think she had, not with the expression so clear on his silent face.

“I will help you,” he said, and that wasn’t an answer, wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would have to do for now. “Let us go.”

3

It was Jin Zixuan who figured it out, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider, looking at the situation without affection to blur his eyes.

“You gave him your golden core,” he said, less than a week into his resurrection – Lan Wangji had been very efficient in his help, not only finding a new place to hide Jiang Yanli and the remaining Wens but also returning to Lanling to steal Jin Zixuan’s corpse and little Jin Ling before returning to his own sect at the first sign that Wei Wuxian would awaken from his coma. He hadn’t sent word since that time, whether from regret or other reasons; their only consolation was that there was no news of his death. “That’s why you couldn’t do anything other than demonic cultivation – is that right?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him through blood-red eyes. “Get lost,” he said; the phrase made up the majority of his vocabulary, these days, and because he refused to curse his shijie he mostly ended up not talking to her at all.

“Wen Qing was a famous doctor – she could have figured out a way to do it, and that would explain why you felt so indebted to them,” Jin Zixuan continued. “You never told him because you didn’t want to burden him. But instead you left him without any reason, any explanation: he must have felt that you abandoned him because you didn’t want him.”

“Get lost!”

“You broke his heart,” he said, and looked down at Jiang Cheng’s body – still perfectly preserved, but unmoving. The resurrection spell had already failed three times. “No wonder he doesn’t want to return.”

“I did it for him!” Wei Wuxian screamed, tears of blood dripping down his cheeks. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t – he has to come back!”

Jin Zixuan said nothing.

4

They ended up back in Yunmeng, rather unexpectedly; the new leadership of the Lotus Pier, a distant branch cousin who’d survived the massacre because he’d been night-hunting elsewhere, had all but begged Jiang Yanli to return. Against all odds her reputation had survived the massacre at the Nightless City; the loving wife, sister, and shijie that nearly sacrificed herself to save what lives she could and to banish the dreadful Yiling Patriarch who was never seen again from that day forth –  she was very nearly regarded as an incarnation of the goddess of mercy.

She had no idea where that ridiculous notion came from, but it did mean that she could live in Lotus Pier again, with Jin Ling by her side – she’d told Jin Guangshan to name someone else as his heir, or at minimum as regent; the Jiang sect needed her and her son more. It wouldn’t have worked if Jin Zixuan hadn’t snuck into his mother’s room to convince Madam Jin to throw her support behind it; officially he was still in his tomb, since Lan Wangji had been very subtle, but in fact he lived within shouting distance of the Lotus Pier, spending his days playing with his son.

They all did, actually, the whole lot of them resettled into a tiny adjacent water town populated largely by civilians that relied on the Jiang sect for their prosperity. As long as Wei Wuxian never did anything, which he didn’t, the illusion that he was gone for good in a cloud of self-destruction after his terrible massacre could be maintained; no one expected they could possibly be so daring as to simply go home after all of it.

Lan Wangji was in seclusion, they were eventually told; Wei Wuxian hadn’t believed it for one second, smuggling himself into Gusu to check – he’d come back unconscious, slung over Jin Zixuan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Struck by the discipline whip,” her husband, the fierce corpse that wasn’t fierce at all, said, and didn’t comment when she instinctively reached out to touch Jiang Cheng’s body, to trace the scar he had; she often spent her days next to the bed that preserved his corpse. “Many times; his body is ruined. It will take years for him to heal – the Lan sect saying he was in seclusion was their way of saving face. Wei Wuxian wants to bring him back to the Lotus Pier to hide him.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed her face, thinking not for the first time that the world would be an easier place if only her two brothers weren’t so stubborn. One who wouldn’t wake up, his spiritual consciousness all in pieces; the other who wouldn’t give up – “The Lan sect wouldn’t accept that.”

“He wasn’t planning on asking. That’s why I knocked him out. Anyway, they’re distracted with the Xue Yang matter now – my father’s still insisting on protecting him, and the Nie sect gets angrier about it by the day; without the Jiang sect, there’s only the Lan to play peacemaker, stop there from being another war.”

Jiang Yanli, who was very nice but also very much not the goddess of mercy, tilted her head to the side; something of her mother was in her eyes. “A war would be a good cover, though, or at least the rumblings of one. If we were going to steal Lan Wangji away from his sect, that is.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll sneak into Lanling to talk to my mother, maybe see if I can follow Xue Yang and see what he’s up to. You go talk to the Nie.”

5

Jiang Yanli’s visit to the Unclean Realm turned out to be more fruitful than anyone had expected. The moment she walked into Nie Mingjue’s receiving room, her Jiang sect bell rang so hard that it shattered, which it definitely hadn’t done during the war – they both stared at it wordlessly for a while.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You know my family history,” he offered as an explanation, embarrassment at the public revelation of his problem already turning to anger but suppressed by his strict adherence to etiquette.

“That’s no family history,” she said, bemused, as she crouched down to poke at the pieces. “The silver bell of the Jiang sect can steady focus and calm the mind, and the ones made for the family are the strongest by far; it would only shatter like this in the effort to resist a spiritual poison…how are you feeling now, Sect Leader Nie?”

He considered for a long moment, and his face grew black with rage. “Better. I feel – like my mind has been filled with fog, and a clear breeze has blown it clear.”

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you should visit Yunmeng.”

He scowled, and she realized he must know about Wei Wuxian’s presence, though she wasn’t sure how; despite that, in the end, after a roaring argument with Nie Huaisang in another room, he agreed to go, even if the idea of staying willfully blind clearly pained him to the core.

Jiang Yanli quietly approved of his decision to put family over principle.

When they put their mind to it, the Nie sect  had an underrated talent for saying ‘I don’t know’ to just about everything. Neither brother blinked an eye at the Wen sect remnants that still teetered every time they went on a boat, very clearly not Yunmeng locals; they politely greeted Jin Zixuan as if he’d only been gone a while and not murdered; much to his older brother’s very evident irritation, Nie Huaisang even leapt over to give Wei Wuxian an enthusiastic hug while Nie Mingjue was still talking with Jin Zixuan about what it meant that Jin Guangshan had hidden away the still intact Wen Ning, who Jin Zixuan had found in a hidden part of Koi Tower during his most recent visit and immediately liberated.

“Definitely a case of spiritual poisoning,” Wei Wuxian said after a short examination, and the most reliable doctor they had left in the Jiang sect concurred. “The silver bell can help a little –” 

They’d already shattered seven of them, but Nie Mingjue had actually cracked a smile for the first time in months, to hear a sobbingly relieved Nie Huaisang tell it. 

“–but it can only help so much; that technique is really only meant for acute cases. And you really need to figure out what was doing the poisoning; there’s no point in curing you if you’re only going to get poisoned again.”

“A matter for a later time,” Nie Mingjue, who clearly had some suspicions that made him look as though he’d been stabbed in the back, said. “Now that we know it’s a poisoning, and my mind is clearer, I can take some action myself – the Nie have plenty of techniques to stabilize the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was full of self-hatred, as it always was these days. “I don’t suppose any of those are designed to work on the dead.”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said. “Several are. Why do you ask?”

6

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes.

[enviedear]

secrets that i keep → peter parker

part two to this fic.

DESCRIPTION ⌙ it’s almost peter’s birthday and you’re searching for the perfect gift.. and the perfect way to exact you new mission. but peter’s curiosity and your habit of loosing things might make this mission a fail. 

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 1.6k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“he’s impossible mj!” you groan, placing the toy lightsaber back on its shelf. “i mean good god, i went so far as to call him.. babe, last night. and he still hasn’t picked up that i like him.”

she shrugs, looking around the lego store, “i don’t know dude. it’s peter, you’re going to have to be a little more straightforward.”

“i can’t.” you huff.

“then stop complaining. if you won’t do anything about it then it’s your own issue. and please, make it an internal one. i don’t want to hear about your thirst for my ex.” she smirks.

you roll your eyes. of course, she was right. subtlety was not going to land you the boy. you really didn’t know how to land peter. no amount of shy flirting was going to show him you liked him. so here you are, in one of the busiest shopping areas in midtown searching to find him the perfect gift for his birthday.

your idea was that if you gave him something both special and romantic, he’d have to see you were enamoured by him. hopefully.

but if he still couldn’t figure it out then you’ve already prepared a sappy love letter for him. you were just really wishing it wouldn’t have to come to the letter. no amount of breathing exercises would be able to calm your nerves if it came to that. 

just the thought of him reading all of those three am romantic thoughts you possessed.. unnerved you. 

you found it much more enjoyable for the thing to stay in your back pocket. away from the world.

“well y/n, shopping’s been cut short. ned just texted me saying that he and peter are ready for movie night.”

you sigh, “text ned that we need at least another hour. i don’t want to leave until i find the perfect gift. i dunno make something convincing up like… we got caught in traffic?”

mj gives you a deadpan look, “y/n we walked here.”

“okay and then we took an uber home.. easy fix.” you say, craning to look at items on the top of the shelf.

“okay well you can stay here and search while i take my happy ass to peter’s. i’m not eating cold takeout.” she smiles sarcastically. 

you bow your head, “i’ll stop for the day. but only because i don’t want to walk there alone. our search begins again tomorrow.”

she nods, happy to be the victor of your little disagreement.

the walk to peter’s apartment is nice. you and mj talk about the adventures you both want to take for the remainder of summer break. the air is warm and the sun shines brightly as though it’s making up for its absence in winter. you’re feeling really peaceful and at ease.

that is, until you walk into peter’s apartment.

“hey mj! hey y/n!.” the boy smiles as he opens the door.

he’s completely shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and hair wet. you almost forget to greet him as you stare at him.

“put on a damn shirt parker.” mj grumbles, pushing past him and into the living room. leaving the two of you alone.

“uh, i- well, i’m just gonna follow mj, but nice pectorals peter. glad i was able to see them at,” you look down at your phone. “four pm.. this fine afternoon.”

he gives you a weird look but keeps his smile on his face, “pectorals?”

you wave your hand dismissively at him and rush to meet your two other friends.

nice pectorals? why the fuck would you say that? anything would have been better than that.. it wasn’t even funny.

you take a seat on the couch and turn to ned on the armchair, “what have you been getting into?”

he grins, “well, i just finished all my summer work, so now i’m going to start on the TIE fighter lego set. my mom bought it all the way back in december and i finally have time for it so.. might as well.”

mj looks up at the two of you from her spot on the floor, “the real question here is, who’s turn is it to pick a movie?”

you furrow your brows in thought. last time was mj, who picked sweeney todd. before her was peter, who picked back to the future. and before him was ned, who made you sit through the notebook. and by sit through you mean absolutely ball your eyes out.

“y/n’s picking the movie tonight.” peter says, sitting down beside you.

“what’s it gonna be then, asswipe?’ mj asks, clicking the tv on.

you think for a moment. you could go the easy route and pick something scary so that you had an excuse to snuggle up to peter. but he’s a jumper and you’d rather not deal with trying to subtly cuddle someone while they hop around due to a movie. so instead, you go for something classic.

“you guys ever heard of big fish?” you smile.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“i didn’t expect it to be that.. emotional.” ned sniffs, eyes stuck on the credits.

you laugh through your drying tears, “right? but hey at least it was a good movie.” 

peter chuckles, head on your shoulder, “good pick y/n. i mean, ned and i liked it. mj’s been out since the ten minute mark.”

you lay you head gingerly on his, “i don’t mind, i did kind of wear her out with all the walking today.”

you look at mj, who’s sleeping peacefully. her head is on one of may’s throw pillows and her legs are up, resting on the armchair along with ned.

“it’s not fair i’m going to have to wake the beast and get her all the way to my house..” you grumble.

ned laughs, “i’d say i was sorry for you, but i’m just glad it’s not me. anyways, i’m taking a shower. and peter,” he looks at his friend. “you better not have used up all of my conditioner. i left it here. i did not give it to you.”

peter gives him a look, “i didn’t use it, i promise.”

with that, ned rushes off to the bathroom. it’s then you become acutely aware of the pretty boy leaned against you. it causes you to feel light. the works. butterflies and heated face.

“wanna split the last two fortune cookies?” you ask, trying to hide your hot face from him.

“sure, they’re still in the takeout bag in the kitchen. you can grab a drink too if you’re thirsty.” he smiles, moving to let you up.

you make your way into the kitchen and find the left over cookies. without thinking you slip them into your back pocket. you open the fridge only to gasp in abrupt realization.

the note.

you take the cookies back out and feel. no note.

oh dear god. somewhere out there is your disgusting display of affection. 

it could be anywhere.

you groan. where was the last place you had it?

was it the lego store?

it had to be, before you went in you checked your pocket and it was there. and so what if you dropped it there, if anything the employees just threw it away, and maybe that’s for the better. you’d probably die if peter ever actually read anything you wrote. you let out a sigh of relief.

everything’s gonna be fine, y/n.

you walk back into the living room, peter’s hunched over looking at something you can’t see.

“i’m back with cookies!” you exclaim, startling him.

he gives you a shaky smile and takes one out of your hand, “ya know y/n.. if there’s anything you want to tell me, i’m all ears.”

you furrow your brows, “um, well i guess i should tell you that fortune cookies have only about 15,000 unique fortunes. it’s not a lot if you take into account how many are produced daily.”

he nods and you break open your cookie, “well, go on. what’s a fortune cookie without sharing the fortune with your friend.” you giggle.

you look down at the tiny slip of paper and pull it from the cookie, turning it over to inspect it.

‘nothing is impossible to a willing heart.’ 

you smile and look at peter, who’s staring at his fortune as if it could crumble in his hands at any minute.

“what does yours say, peter?” you inquire, scooting closer to read it.

on the paper, in blue lettering, ‘this person’s love is just and true. you may rely on it.’

peter looks at you, brown eyes as soft as a puppies. his hair is a little messy but so perfect. 

“i read your letter. it.. it was on the couch and..” he trails off.

you suck in air, “oh.”

“y/n.. i,”  he falters, and sighs, “fuck it.”

once those words are off his lips, those lips connect to yours. sweet and soft. his hands clutch your face bringing you closer, as close as possible. you feel as though you come to life in his arms. the kiss continues and when he finally pulls away you can’t knock the smile on your face off.

“i like you too.” he says simply, smile matching yours.

you’re about to speak when you hear a gag.

mj.

“this couldn’t have happened in a different room? i mean, to wake up and see two ninnies eating each others’ faces. utterly revolting.”

“i thought it was sweet,” ned says from the hallway. “my airpods were still playing ‘best part’ and it really added to the moment. well at least for me.”

peter groans, “so you were both watching me.. kiss her? that’s so weird.”

mj scoffs, “i was forced. ned’s just a sap.”

your smile doesn’t leave your face as you watch the people you love most. sure mj was a little dark, ned was a tad sappy, and sure, peter was a dork. but they were your people. 

and most importantly, peter was your person.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tags:

@slytherinambitious​ @watson-emma​ @urbanwirter​