#not because i want to finish it but because i need the satisfaction/closure

[celticwoman]

at last... starting the raven king today

[ofmermaidstories]

Bad day for nosy people who need to know what old fandom is 👀👀

lmao, i’m trying to talk myself out of it so that i don’t turn my current WIP list upside down on itself but. 🥹 i fear it has very powerful claws. 🦞 i’ve been mulling over like, why it ([Old Fandom]) is so attractive to me right now and i think it’s a combination of a few things!! like, one is the fact that i never originally left it by choice—real life kinda forced me away from my hobbies, and by the time i could circle back again, the fandom had died (i find it really interesting that so many modern fandoms don’t have staying power, but that’s a different discussion) and i was interested in different things. but now it’s seeing a revival and i’m remembering how much i loved it and how i never really… got closure for it, LOL, as silly as that sounds. 🥹 i never finished any of my ideas. 🥺 i went back into my old account actually, like a couple of weeks ago, and went through my fic drafts i had at the time and it—idk. i guess it just made me nostalgic. 🥹 it’s different, tonally, to what we do here in the bnha/x reader niche!! and it makes me itchy. 🥹😩 god!! so itchy. i wanna dig my fingers into it and move things around. dig it up from the garden. perform necromancy on the lover that doesn’t even know they’re dead, and blinks and finds themselves sitting in the same old kitchen with a cup of coffee in their hand. 🥹🥹🥹 i’m better equipped now—i know how to keep myself interested in long-term projects, how to finish them and, most importantly, what i like.

there’s a lot of stuff i like to write that i just don’t, here in our niche. either because it doesn’t fit in with the bnha world or just doesn’t like… suit the x reader POV. and that’s on me LOL, a better (or maybe more determined) writer could make all those things work, but part of what i like about bnha and x reader and [old fandom] is that they’re distinct—they all feel different. i wrote a lot before i got here!! i wrote so much. i wrote so much that i like, kinda burnt myself out on it LMAOO. there were tropes i liked and settings and tricks i used all the time that after a while they got boring to me. 🥹 and now after a million years of doing something different, i’ve realised—oh. i really liked all that. 🥹 i really like it, still.

idk!! idk. part of not naming the fandom is also because i haven’t decided if i wanna jump back in or not lmao. do i do it, knowing it’ll slow everything up even more? we tell ourselves all the time here in fandom circles that it’s just fanfic/fanart! you’re here to have fun! if it gets hard or boring or you wanna try something new��drop it! do it! you don’t owe anybody anything!! which is all very true yes sure. except i, me, mermie, want to finish things. i want the satisfaction of finishing the IAL series. im actually very proud of the fics, and while i know i will finish shouto’s (barring being kidnapped by pirates or aliens or death himself ig 💀), i also know im a slow writer, and that letting myself deviate off path into a completely different fandom will make me slower. 🥹 so idk. i guess ive just been ruminating on fiddly details like that LOL. also i don’t have a solid plot in mind yet (even tho i have a general gist of what i want) so that’s also probably the main leash rn LMAOOO. tbh if i get one im going in swinging, fist first, so let’s all hope that i remain idealess on that front lest the demons take me. 🥹🙏🏽

[callsignbaphomet]

I've decided on something that I'd been contemplating regarding Jela's attack. I've wondered if having Jelani come across the 7 assailants (there were 8 but Loke killed one of them, we'll get back to this in a bit) again would be ideal. Of course this second time around he'd be able to get closure in the form of revenge for what they did. I mean, usually in a story when a character is wronged, and in such a brutal manner to boot, the story often leads to the character that was wronged getting their revenge. I know it's not always the case and it doesn't always need to happen and in a way I don't really feel like this is headed in that direction. Who would benefit from Jelani being exposed to Christian and the other 6 assailants? Who would feel a sense of satisfaction in spilling their blood for what they did to a seventeen-year-old who was just doing the right thing? Not Jelani that's for sure. As his parents Loke and Uthorim would feel vindicated and avenged even though it didn't happen to them. Angelus sure as shit would revel in slowly killing off the sick bastards that assaulted his boyfriend and left him severely traumatized.

Being exposed to them, especially Christian, would more than likely unravel the little bit of recovery Jelani has had in the months following the assault. All that shit and trauma is still affecting him even almost a year later in ways that not even Loke, Uthorim or Angelus even know. The last thing Christian did after he was finished with Jelani was threaten him. If he told Loke who did it he would find both of them, kill Loke in front of him and do it again only that second time Chris was gonna "not be so merciful". So while, yeah, Jelani's spent plenty of sleepless nights just fantasizing about brutally killing them all or at the very least Chris it's one thing to fantasize about something. It's a whole different thing to actually be there and do it. Seeing Chris or any of them would literally be opening up semi-healed wounds and pouring salt on them. And honestly with how traumatized he is he'd probably just freeze on the spot. The little bit of recovery he'd done would just burn away.

Getting back to one of them getting killed. Loke got lucky. One of them, Nathaniel, had left the group after the assault. He was the only one that refused to do that but only because Jelani was a minor, don't think he's a decent person just because he refused to at first and "took it easy on him" he still did it anyways plus he's done other terrible shit to other people. He just didn't want to because Jelani was a kid at the time it happened. Loke just so happened to find him and tore him to pieces. Yeah, there was some satisfaction but killing all 8 of 'em wasn't gonna magically take back what happened or make Jelani instantly better. This is also coupled with the fact that Chris is a vile piece of shit and wouldn't go down without a fight or at the very least hurting Jelani again. He's as vile and evil as Iain is.

Basically everyone (Loke, Uthorim and Angelus) except for the actual victim (Jelani) would benefit from this clash and he's been through enough already not to mention that recovery is its own type of hell so it'd just be adding more to it.

[loopy777]

Whats your thoughts on stories where the author has things planned out, but during the story he/she creates a unplanned character relationahip/dynamic that unexpedtedly becomes one of THE defining aspects of the series.

You'll find plenty of such things across manga, anime, comics, animated series, etc, and plenty of movies has sequels where the main protagonists are shuffled around to reflect what ended up working in the first movie, shuffling the intended second leads to the sides(not exactly a dynamic, but one of the most famous shuffles is Jack Sparrow becoming the main character of the franchise).

The bigger question about this aspect of storytelling is of course how an author should react. In planned narratives, do you think its better if they do change things up, or should they stay the course?

Im reminded of Soul Eater, where the unexpected success of the dynamic between the female lead, and her rival villain turned friend crona ended up being the single best part about it, and came to dominate the later part of the manga... But the mangaka wasnt willing to go all the way with it at the end, creating a very anger inducing ending, while the anime adaption was basically the reverse of Brotherhood and 2003 in terms of quality, but while an integral part about it, maka and Crona's relationship was not reshuffled into becoming the defining dynamic about the series... But while the anime ending is much better than the manga, the removal of Crona from the final villain also meant that he and Maka had no relation whatsoever, creating a very lackluster her/villain dynamic.

So it was a mixed bag. The anime could have been perfect in terms of its ending if it fully embraced the suprising hit that was Chrona and Maka's dynaimc and relationahip, but managed a relatively good ending, while the mangaka chickened out at the last moment in regards to their relationahip, leaving it withouth any sort of closure or climax, despite being the single most defining character part of Maka's journey.

And thats just one single, example qbout this kind of reshuffling in regarda to suprise character hits. Im sure you have your own examples of dynamics you ended up loving that was not planned to be so good it became a mainstay.

With an addendum:

Also just a quick clarification, when i said the soul eater manga/anime was the opposite in terms of 2003/brotherhood, i meant the manga started off terrible, had an infuriated ending, and a lot of bad points though, while the anime version was for the most part a solid, great anime from start to finish with a decent, if not spectacular, anime only ending. I probably worded that very badly in the initial ask.

Well, I think it depends. With a work with a primary commercial nature -- that is to say, a work where the primary intent is to sell new installments to the audience over making some kind of artistic statement -- I think the author's job is to shift things as needed to increase and/or maintain the audience. That's not to say they should automatically give audiences what they (think they) want, but if a certain unexpected character or element is providing the most satisfaction, then why wouldn't they pivot on that?

In a lot of cases, that kind of thing comes about because the rest of work is more generic, and the audience is focusing on the original or deeper-rendered elements. For example, I don't think there are any people left who actually think Korra should have gotten back together with Mako at the end of LoK instead of starting a romance with Asami, even though you can see the sloppy welding lines where that whole thing was hastily added to an existing structure. Getting Makorra would have been a mediocre-at-best implementation of something we'd seen a billion times before, where Korrasami was groundbreaking despite being hastily scrawled in pencil on a printed script.

That said, one of the great thing about plans is that they're a handy guide to how to change the plan. If you know what you need to set up for your ending, and you now want to change some of those necessary steps, you can see that you need to change your ending, and you not only have an idea of what new path you might now be starting on but you also know what other resources you have to construct a new ending.

That said, I'm a big fan of the idea that a story's ending should be a reflection and/or final statement of what the whole work is about. If your audience isn't responding to the setup for that, your story is not working and at this point -- whether or not you change your plan -- you're probably aiming just to swim to a shore before you drown. If you need to keep afloat on a popular element for a while before bringing things to a hasty and dissatisfying conclusion, at least you were employed for a while and maybe got some good merchandising going.

So I think that's what's going on with your Soul Eater example, although I know nothing about either that manga or anime, so I'm just going by your summary. The original idea wasn't compelling, or at least wasn't anything special. The question then is why the author wasn't able to find a new ending to reflect the more interesting focus.

Well, my understanding is manga production is so fast-paced that there probably wasn't an opportunity for the author to sit down and figure out a new plan. Planning is very involved if you want to create a powerful, resonate work, and manga needs to be written and drawn on a weekly basis. I don't know if Soul Eater kept to that schedule, but the impression I have is that -- aside from a few superstars who have the riches and privilege to take a week off if they're delirious with fever -- manga-production is one of those professions like soldiers, deep-sea fishermen, and Black Friday retail assistants where we expect a high death rate and just consider it the cost of an essential job for society's function. So the publisher might have not given the author the time to both produce the manga and figure out where the new path is going; after all, by the time it ends, the publisher probably has a new hot seller and the audience has already bought all the Soul Eater plastic statues they need.

That all sounds very cynical, because it is, and in the end, I don't know that I can advocate a principle here. It isn't about art. Making changes can create an awkward work that maybe fizzles out in the end. But not making changes can create an elegant work that never even gets to the finish line.

There are also works where the author maintained discipline, stuck to a plan and didn't give in to fan-service, and created something powerful and resonate. There are also works where a little structural clunkiness is almost completely ignored compared to how satisfying its audience finds the overall product.

Ideally, a nice mix can be found. For all that we criticize George Lucas for his lack of collaboration in the Star Wars prequels, he did all but cut Jar-Jar out of the second and third movies in that trilogy, and that wasn't because of his own personal whims. And I think we can all agree that was for the better.

As far as my own storytelling experiences go, I did alter my plans for Traitor's Face to give Zhao more of a role in response to reader comments. He certainly didn't take over the story, and didn't even become a primary antagonist, but I did give him some plot points that would have gone to other characters. Of course, it helps that there was a lot of other compelling stuff in that story (or so I flatter myself, but come on, those mysteries rocked), so I didn't need to lean on Zhao to keep reader interest. It also helps that no publisher was pushing me to turn my fanfic into a massive blockbuster franchise keeping the lights on for everyone for the next ten years.

So my final position is that I'm a sell-out, but I think I would be very good at selling out, if anyone has any money they want to throw at me.

[netherfeildren]

First of all (literally no one asked me to speak on this and I’m not even the previous anon lol but) I so agree with anon, and with you, and their ask made me want to speak on the ending of Pink too because it is absolutely brilliant and deserves to be talked about. As you say, you did what the story asked of you. Whatever happens after that point is part of the joy of reading, you get to bring to the story what you carry within yourself, and you might walk away as someone slightly changed. There’s such a satisfaction to me with open endings, despite the complicated feelings they might evoke. I guess I just want to encourage more people to take risks with their endings and to be fearless in my own writing too. Writing toward happiness and resolution can be lovely, but it’s that can also serve as a kind of finish point of feeling. Closure like a firmly closed door in your face. But endings like this, with nuance and pain and passion and fear, are like a ringing bell that echoes with you long after you read it. Pretty, perfect bows tied on everything doesn’t leave us with any of that beautiful resonance. Okay bye. Smooches to you and that anon.

hello and one million apologies for sitting on this for so long. the idea of the open ending was not one I'd considered much previous to writing pink solely because I don't think I appreciated it for what it could be prior to actually having to think up my own and put it into words which was HARD let me tell you. I literally never have like a beta or someone I bounce my ideas off of when I'm writing like ever ever but for that I did have to consult my best friend, who also writes, and kind of work through what it was that needed to be said and what didn't. I knew how it was I'd be ending, but building that openness that's part resolution / part imagination like you said is actually so incredibly hard to do. I think there's merit to both sorts of endings of course, a perfectly tied off one, and one that leaves us thinking of what could happen next, but it depends on the story and what possibility there is for afterwards. I see pink with so much potential for what can happen next, but I think with something so convoluted it's better to leave it to the reader to imagine what it is they'd like for the characters, what they'd feel comfortable with, what would satisfy you in your own mind.

thank you so much for reading and smooches back 🫶🏻

[datarevived]

--  Ⅸ : ғᴀᴜʟᴛ

" I need you to say something. "

Her breath was shaky in the demand, with fist clenched tightly at her sides & the strain along her jaw nearly numbing in the moment. Feeling as if she was being cramped into a box two sizes too small, with shoulders weighing that of a hundred boulders & her knees wanting to buckle at the first given chance.

But she would not give him that satisfaction. She had cried her tears enough. And she was not taking abandonment as an answer so easily.

The Awoken stood mere steps away from the man in question, his back reflecting the pallid whites of his armor against the one faded lamp in the ship's corridor. The soft hums of the engine echoing off the interiors, as the breathing of the pipes popping in and out of condensation, ever rarely mimicking that of a water droplet hitting the floors.

Deafening, yet silent all the same. She would not be sated until it was his voice that thundered. The pull of leather rips gently into the ambiance as her grip twitched in vigor.

" . . .I know I'm not the best Hunter on the record. I know, that ever since I jabbed myself into your problems, that you've held this... animosity towards me. That you've never seen me as an equal. "

There was no point in playing gullible, yet admitting it to the air still ached.

" I know that you pride yourself on your strength. Your strategy. HELL, even your ability to have kept US of all people in line, even through the shit we put you through. That you've been through it all, you'd say. That you've been here so terribly, dreadfully, long. "

Warlords, they called him. The Knights, he called them.

She takes a single step forward, the heel of her boot scraping the grounds with a rumble, " And I have learned SO much from you. The BOTH of you! I wouldn't BE here, if it wasn't for BOTH of you! " Her voice beginning to crack, that all too familiar heat resting upon her cheeks in a painful fury.

To what right did she have to be a n g r y?

" He was terrified of you," a tremble, followed by hesitance. Her lip quivers, " -- but none the less he stayed by you because I asked him to." a pause. " I begged him, to give you a chance. That it was my stupid idea. "

Furrowed brows begin to ache in their crest, as for a brief moment the taste of copper stains her tongue at bitten lip.

" And truly, if you were ever so against it - you had every opportunity, every chance, every moment of any day, to have left us. "

A shift in the air, but it is not provoked by her own movements this time. The scratch of metal pauldron twitch 'pon Titan shoulders. A nerve, but this was never a secret to neither of them.

" You stayed. You came back. " Embers dying from her voice now, it bleeds with a certain plea. Cyan vision turned blurry from the wetness of her cheeks. " So why now. Why distant yourself now? . . . Please. Just, say something. "

Silence.

The Hunter's chest felt as if it was about to cave. The mind no longer concerned on the pace of her breath, for the noise it might bring may very well over-empower any words he had to offer.

" A moral obligation. "

The written blue across the mans' back twists as he turns, directing an over-cast face in the Awoken's direction; the sound of his armor ripping a tune long enough for her to inhale.

" I spend a LIFE TIME picking up the pieces of my brethren, bringing each of them the closure they deserve be it life or death, and just when I'm about to finish that line of function - what is it, that I find two delinquents upon my ship? "

His voice rains with bitter spice, like a cobra fanning its' hood.

" I sought you upon my mission because I was commanded to bring back that of which was on my ship leaving, " a growl, with one step forward. " I remained present because I did not trust what the Traveler had considered NEW LIGHT to be any more than a liability in a War we could not LOSE.

" I taught, because I had hoped to some decency enough between the TWO OF YOU, I could turn my head without the awful itching that you didn't need to be baby-sat. That you would sprout your wings & hold your OWN, " another step, followed by the faint tension in the air that typically rode with a steady current. The hair upon both of their necks stands, yet his jaw is beginning to meet a similar ache from the clenching of grit teeth. " But time, and time again, neither of you could prove you had any thicker skin than a boar in a ruin. "

His steps proceed heavy-footed, the Hunter soon retracting her one step forward. Heart racing like a kicking rabbit, but she would not falter. Not this time.

" Then here I am, gifted with yet another burden to bear, because he couldn't get past the ideology that everyone deserves a chance. -- An unworldly wander to who started that. "

" That's not fair -- " she chokes, but it comes as a bark.

" Oh, we want to speak about what's not fair, " through bared teeth, another step is forward & an electric blue forming within his grasp. The shocking sparks of Arc licking off his gauntlets like a flame. " How it's not fair that I turn my back not even two seconds, the two of you and your disappearing act -- "

Hes' closed the distance, despite she taking two steps back. His height towering that of her own, causing her neck to crane upwards with doe-like gaze. Trapped against the hatch of the ship, she's been in this position before. A nervous whimper as she feels the static from her hair and clothing attract. She was good as dead.

" . . .I should have left you two on Io. "

Emerald gaze narrows as his arms restrain at his sides. The Titan being close enough for her to witness the movement of his own chest, a heavy breath causing the plate to move inward and out. Had it not been for the protection of his gloves, surely, nails would have reached to bone in his palm.

" Mayhaps then, I could have gotten away without the knowledge of another innocent falling on my hands. "

She's perplexed at first, a swarm of mixed signals as she stares hard towards the other. His expression reading the same stoicness she had grown the last couple of years with, but something about his words were off. The lick of venom or coating of pride -- their inflections lacking.

To what right did he... have to be angry?

Another set of tears, this time quiet in contrast as her eyes remain fixated on the Titan. She had cried her tears, but never considered how he mourned - not those of his past, nor his present. Had he mourned them? Ever? She cannot recall.

Empathy.

She's convinced that the streams down her cheeks are no longer hers. His face remaining cold, though his physical shakiness saying differently.

" I. . "

Please say something.

" I. . . I really, "

Please don't leave me.

" -- I'm sorry . "

. . .Is met with a snarl. The charge in his hands slowly coming to a spark, discharging in the clenching of fist. A sigh. He had always been the non-verbal type. A snap of the heel as he turns away, pacing back down the corridor and towards the main bay. Leaving the Hunter in her quiet as her knees finally give way to the crucial ' thud ' of steel. The air in her lungs finally breathed in with a choked sob, hands risen to cover her mouth.

I can't lose you too.

[retphienix]

Finally beat Prey after like 50 hours of gameplay.

That game is like a 10/10 experience throughout, with like a 4/10 ending that I hold no truly negative feelings towards and actively applaud for some aspects of it.

But before I ramble (shortly) about that in a readmore, gameplay is really just a blast. I didn't know I needed a "system shock 2 but modern" game, but I did and this was that!

Solving exploration "puzzles" like how to enter an area or the safest way past an obstacle or "Where's the keycard" via tracking personnel from the area or turning on and off power for stuff- just all of it and more, exploring the facility was a blast from start to literal finish.

Fighting stuff was fun even though I did do a human only run because they warned me about the turrets and I thought "But turrets are so helpful right now!" and that legit was my only reasoning even after I got hacking maxed and a billion ways to fight without turrets lmao

It's wild to think I missed out on half the game's combat options, hell I didn't even unlock and use combat focus until the last like 10 hours.

I like how you really do have to play 'smart' for most of the game because you really are the prey around here. (Normal difficulty).

After a while you learn how to do things a bit better and the power dynamic shifts but that's a given when you hoard stuff like I do- by the end I had like 4000 Q-gun ammo and could instantly melt whatever I wanted for fun- hell even from the "start" of being terrorized by the Nightmare I had so many recycler grenades saved that I was able to handle him like that for most of the game (until the end game where I could just slow time and melt him with my pistol instead lol).

But yeah, you feel reasonably outmatched in a way that encourages using your ingame tools intelligently and I liked that!

Good story that I loved exploring, good characters that I liked a lot, a plethora of world-building/scene-setting background stories through logs and the like that often made me sad :( (good!)

Oh, and I knew about the twist before playing, and my take is that the hints throughout the game are really fun- like genuinely! Not gonna focus too much on if they were too heavy handed because I'd say like 80% of them were not heavy handed and then some were just smacking you to try and get you to notice- but overall I really liked the build up to the after credits reveal!

The reveal itself, when you already know, eeeeh, fine I guess.

So the ending lol (I'll be short)

Loved the game! Thinking I might mess around in mooncrash since I think it was included in the epic freebie? Or maybe NG+ but IDK, plenty of other games I could play instead of doing a NG+ run just to try out the psy powers :P

Kinda feels like a narrative, with an intended twist, that would be challenging to really get a "good" or "great" ending out of it, so I don't blame them. Leaning on implications for prey 2 (maybe) is fine, but it pretty much just goes "BOO! Shocking TWIST! Okay good bye." eeeh.

As is, I think the shock of the twist could have risen the score a few points, but I already knew it so I didn't experience THAT ending, and also I think if the shock is 100% necessary for that then is it REALLY worth the extra points? Especially when I just said I loved the BUILD UP of the reveal, that stuff was 10/10 great stuff, but then the ending is kinda "fine".

I do really enjoy a nice rundown of everything I did as it's judged. That's where the bulk of my enjoyment of the ending comes from.

But then closure? No. Reasonable satisfaction despite being an ending that can't grant direct closure? Also no.

You kinda just get judged (which I like) and then the screen goes black again, yippee.

Hold his hand and you get told to come up with your own ideas until prey 2 exists.

Kill him and get the "be evil for evil's sake" vibe and nothing more because that's really it, it's just "HERE'S THE TWIST!.... okay thanks for playing." which didn't really give me satisfaction since I already knew it, ah well.

I really liked prey :) I always suspected I would, but finally sitting down to play it, oh buddy I loved it a lot :) Exploring this place and finding my solutions to stuff and figuring stuff out and just alllll that? Loved it!

Ending was just kinda "Hm. Well alright then." since I already knew the twist part which sucks, but hey, the buildup was nice! Good game :)

[demadogs]

Hi,i have this doubt. The duffers said the ending of st5 will be emotional,that some co producers cried knowing the ending and they can’t satisfy everyone with the ending.. what do you think this means? This statements scream to me that someone is gonna die,what do you think?

i think no matter what, the ending will be very emotional so they might not be referring to a main character death but that does sound like someones gonna die. i think the “not everyone will be satisfied” part could be referring to the endgame couples. not even just byler but jancy too.

also i forget her direct quote but millie said that the duffers are too attached to their characters to kill any of them and honestly shes right thats why they keep adding new characters that are written to die from the start instead of killing the og gang. maybe it’ll be different this time since its the last season and its not like theyre killing off an actor and wont be able to work with them again but idk. heres what i think:

will dying honestly just wouldnt make sense at all. they need the satisfaction of this character whos been suffering from the very first episode to get his happy ending or honestly just ANY ending/closure thats not death. i cant see them having this character suffer alone in the upside down, be possessed, be ignored by his friends and feel behind in growing up, fall in love with someone he assumes could never love him back, and then DIE???!! that’d be insane. it would be a very incomplete character arc. i unfortunately think he would be more likely to die than any of the other kids just because he has such a big role next season and killing say lucas or dustin would be so random but i do think it would just not be great writing if they killed him. for so many reasons. like there are deaths that i absolutely did not want but do make sense and are well written in the grand scheme of things, eddie being one of them. i think every death in the show so far abides to that actually, whether i wanted them to die or not but that just wouldnt be the case for will at all.

theres also the fact that every single death in the show has played a big role in the next season so if someone were to die in s5 we’d never see how that affects the characters they were closest to making THEIR character arc incomplete as well. so because of that i dont think it would be jonathan or joyce because we’d never see will cope with that, i dont think it’d be any of the og party kids for the same reason (and i honestly just dont think the duffers would kill the og boys), i dont think itd be hopper bc we wouldnt see el cope, plus she just got him back so thatd just be plain mean. and i dont think mike or will would die bc byler will happen. they wouldnt have SO much queercoding for both of them only to have them kiss maybe once and then one of them dies. itd be a waste of all the time they spent building them up. but i do believe mike will have a near death experience.

i dont think it will be el at all because like millie said, theyd never have the balls to do that, but also this would almost completely ruin byler for me. it objectively wouldnt be wrong because mike has had feelings for will this whole time but i would actually understand those who would be mad at mike for just dating will “out of nowhere” after his gf dies. it’d look so bad and like will, we need to see el truly happy to satisfyingly finish her character arc and that involves being happily single and have a very healthy wholesome friendship with mike. she and will probably would be willing to sacrifice themselves but i dont think anyone would let them go through with it.

i also think a lot of characters are just too random to die. robin, nancy, argyle, murray, lucas, dustin, erica, these are all characters that do play a big role but not one big enough that i think they may die.

then theres max. i dont think she’d die but im not as confident in this one. im not saying she wont wake up. they would have just killed her this season if they werent planning on having her wake up. she will definitely play a part in next season and i think a lot of it may be related to the state shes in. like if shes blind, she will notice things the other characters dont because theyre focusing on what theyve seen whereas max would pay more attention to what theyve heard or touched. it could be a really interesting point of view if shes blind. but it could be a situation where shes still very weak and her body hasnt fully recovered yet so shes more at risk than the others but the reason im hesitant to say she could die is the same reason i dont think hopper would die. like el, lucas is currently mourning the loss of her. she’s not dead but he did lose her and to bring her back only to lose her again for good would just be so brutal.

yall are gonna hate me for this.

this leaves one last person and believe me i am just as upset as you are but fuck i really think it might be steve. every season he is seen as a hero to these kids, hes always putting himself first before any of them and protecting them in every way he can, he always ends up getting his shit rocked, he is a fan favorite. it would be a very impactful death, much more than any of the random characters i mentioned earlier like dustin or erica. it’d have such an impact on people that i think a big reason why it hasnt happened already is because there are people who would literally stop watching if he died. ive NEVER seen a fictional character so universally loved like this so if they were ever going to kill him it’d definitely be the last season. and if they want a super emotional death that gets everyone talking, he is 100% the one to go with.

going back to how we would never see the characters cope with the loss, i think they could get away with it for this one. it would be fucking devastating for dustin especially bc he just lost eddie but steve might have helped him a lot with his death and he could take his advice for steve’s as well. and for robin it would also be so sad but i think she and dustin could find comfort in each other about it.

like i said earlier there are deaths that i really really wish didnt happen, but from a narrative perspective are well written and do make sense. steve makes sense because of how much of an impact hes had on EVERY other character. even if we dont see much interactions with some of them theres still little things that show us how close their relationship is with steve, the kids especially. we know hes closest with dustin, but mike, will, lucas, and max all still have a wholesome relationship with him and one way they showed us that was him regularly letting them into free movies through the back door of scoops ahoy. another one was him giving max and el ice cream and knowing el shouldnt be out. he also was the only one who went to lucas’ game even tho he didnt seem thrilled about his date and couldnt even sit with robin cuz she was in band. also the fact that max wrote him a letter. she didnt write any of the other older kids a letter which shows that she had a closer relationship with him than any of the older kids and one that goes beyond just being with them whenever the worlds going to shit again.

since most people would be on the same page with how close they were with him, this avoids the problem i mentioned earlier of a single character having an unresolved character arc because we never see them mourn. theres not another character i can think of that has this big of a relationship with almost everyone on the show. like robin dying would be so sad for steve but mike wouldnt be that affected. nancy dying would be so sad for mike but lucas wouldnt be that affected. erica dying would be so sad for lucas but will wouldnt be that affected, you get the gist. steve’s death would affect everyone.

i HATE to say it but it checks so many boxes on why it would objectively be a well written death for both the characters and the audience. BUT ID LOVE TO PROVEN WRONG!!!!!

[yinses]

he reminds your ex who you belong to

gojo satoru ft. f! reader + exhibition ( technically phone sex ¿) + some hair pulling + unprotected sex  wc: 2.3k

a/n: trying to get better with my tagging. i realize the community has it’s own sensitivities and i often fall short on that thought. i still owe some prompts and a few other asks but this has been siting in my drafts for a few weeks and i finally finished it up. 

it never fails to come as an interruption in your life, the shrill call of your phone blaring at inopportune times. each one conveniently impeding on time with gojo.  

your boyfriend of four months would give you that tight smile, blue eyes swimming with annoyance, but never concern. because not once did you pick up the call, always reaching out blindly to silence it without even acknowledging the accompanying messages. 

the number changes, but you learned not to accept any call from one you didn’t recognize. important communications were typically followed by voicemail and that was how you dealt with that. but the duration was becoming more tedious than either of you imagined, reaching above the white noise decibel it had been reduced to. 

“maybe i should just change my number, “ you suggest forlornly. it would ensure that he had no way to contact you freely, but it would also force you to reestablish connections with all your friends and family. it seemed like an extreme measure but when push came to shove. 

only a few moments pass before the phone picks up again, hammering down the final nail in your resolve. 

“i think you should answer.”

gojo’s unexpected intervention comes from the edge of the bed where he flips the said phone carefully from one palm to the next. his fingers brush past the two blinking options just short of selecting. 

you shift from foot to foot, not sure how to accept that response. gojo was as irritated as you were but you didn’t expect him to cave first. 

frowning, you shake your head. “i’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” his gaze sweeps over your face, somewhat amused by your discomfort. there is a swirl of mischief alight in those bright blue eyes.  “apparently he needs a little more than a simple no.”

he holds out the device, voice taunting but firm.

“if you don’t answer you’ll miss the call.”

as if there wouldn't be a dozen more to follow. 

your mouth feels dry, hand heavy with the weight of decision. it wasn’t as though you couldn't deal with the situation, so much as if you were prepared to. ignoring had been the more appealing option over confrontation but perhaps it had been your hesitation that had been the problem all along. ultimately your thumb taps to accept the call. 

“hello?”

‘baby, i’ve been trying to reach you for ages.’

the bed creaks but you’re too focused breathing evenly to notice. you weren’t familiar with the etiquette of many break ups, which was why this one was the hardest. it had been a long love that had followed you into the early years of adulthood before spark began to fizzle out. 

“i just answered to tell you to stop calling. i’ve already blocked your number once.”

the attempt to revive the romance before it all fell apart had been one-sided. he’d been quicker to discover other fish in the sea before you had. it seemed as though in your patience, you’d found something better while he spent his time chasing minnows without satisfaction. 

‘yes, but you didn’t give me the chance to explain. we don’t have to be over.’

you should have seen it coming. 

your shoulders tense at the press of his lips at your neck. gojo had a propensity for creating opportunities out of every little divot in life. he lived the role of a jester but held the mind of a genius. gojo had been kind in biting his lip to bare down on the jealousy simmering down beneath.

he gives you a brief grace period as his slender fingers tap the mute button then his lips return to your ear. “if you want this, get onto the bed and place the phone above your head with the speaker on.”

an immediate protest flies to your lips but doesn’t quite make it to fruition. what he’s suggestion goes beyond sexual barriers you’d set up thus far. gojo had a knack for pushing them and helping you discover new fantasies and hidden pleasures. 

at the first hint of a pout against your throat, you cave. 

so weak for him.

your ex seems none the wiser to the hitch in your voice as you press one knee to the bed, then the other before carefully rolling onto your back. swallowing the waning confidence before it leaks from your body, you seal the deal by placing the phone just above your head after activating the speaker. 

“good girl.” the words come whispered for your benefit as gojo crawls onto the bed. as if his intentions weren’t already clear enough, the prominent hardness in his pants as he slots between your legs is. you can’t help but grow dizzy at the thought of your premeditated actions, all while your thighs tighten around his form. 

his hands warm the shivers from your sides as he slides up your shirt and kisses down your navel. gojo delivers a sharp nip just before muttering a brisk,” unmute.” in reminder. 

the command comes just in time for your expected response though you’re no more prepared to deliver when gojo unbuttons your pants and works them over your hips. 

‘maybe if we could just meet somewhere?’

the sincerity coupled with your actions makes it all feel more one-sided with you playing the role of the villain. he’d been an ass, yes, but surely he didn’t deserve this. 

right?

“it doesn’t matter, were-mmph.” no part of you expected gojo to play this fairly. you choke on the response when his tongue licks a firm swipe against the fabric of your panties. 

‘what does not matter? speak to me. lets talk this out.”

funny how he chose now of all times to acknowledge the issues you had and attempted to resolve in the past. 

gojo words feel condescending as he mimics what’s heard against your cunt. there was no doubt in your mind that he’d completely written off your ex from the beginning. the same confidence from your first date dripped from his touch as he worked down the fabric from your hips. 

not once did he promise to watch his volume as he sloppily wets his fingers. he’s is ruthless as he plunged in two in on the first thrust, palm curling up to rub friction against your clit. any other time you would have revealed in his ability to make you come apart so easily, now you were more embarrassed by how much easier you felt. 

‘is this a bad time? you seem distracted.’

every time was a bad time. that was the point. 

gojo’s tongue wet the inside of your thigh, “don’t let him hang up. you want this to be his last call, remember.”

at this rate he was going to make this your last waking moment. 

somewhere between a squeak and a whimper, you managed to form words against the friction of gojo’s touch sliding in and out. “no, let’s just-i- yeah, no, we should talk it out now. i’m tired of going back and forth.”

the line pauses briefly. and you almost hope for a second he reaches clarity and saves you from the embarrassment. ‘alright then. are you really not willing to give it another shot?’

your groan of arousal is disguised by disappointment but the opposite warms gojo’s breath against your damp skin. “i didn’t realize you were dating such an idiot. how can he be so dense.” his lips smack, shiny with your stimulation.” you must just really have a thing for pretty faces, willing to look past so much.”

you were willing to look past his deviousness right now, ready to let him desecrate you over the phone like this.

“you’re pretty, toru.” you try to jab but are countered with the addition of a third finger as he starts a relently pace. the sounds are so dirty, reckless suckling sounds that had to carry. gojo made sure of it as he twisted his wrist in retaliation over every shift of your hips. 

“i am much prettier than they guy. much better at a lot,” he enunciates sharp smack to your thigh. 

then he curls just right and you turn for face into the phone and keen.

‘seriously what is going on you sound- strained.’

gojo’s chuckle vibrates within you. “poor guys don't even know what you sound like on the verge of an orgasm.”

your voice is impossibly hoarse and not very convincing as you choke out,” i’m fine. n-no look … i only answered because i wanted us to-fuck-no sorry.” gojo wasn’t making this easy. “- wanted us to reach some closure and move on.”

gojo pulls out just short of your building orgasm and you gasp breathy at the loss. 

‘we were together for two years. surely that amounts to more than just moving on.’

it did. way back when the unexpected break up had torn your hearts to shreds. the misunderstanding and lost connections had eaten you out from the inside. left you failing in the unknowns of what you did wrong and why he wanted to slow down your progress.

now it all seems insignificant in comparison the sight of your current boyfriend slowly fisting his cock. 

‘you wanted to use the break to decide if you were ready for a future together and i think we both realized that we weren't-”

gojo had chosen the right moment to intervene in your life and the moment at the head of his cock pushes through the first ring. he follows through in one motion, filling you to hilt as his hand reaches up to fist the short of your hair. 

‘baby, no one knows you like i do.’

the sharp sting of his fist clenching as he hips rock back is the last warning you get before he slams back in. there was more to the familiar precision as he ruts into you. gojo was the better man, but even he felt short to the green-eyed-monster. 

he was relentless with his pace, fucking into you harder with each new whimper you give up. your consciousness is a fleeting cloud, wafting high out of your reach as your mouth opens up to sharp cries. 

‘are you working out right now? your words sound broken.’

gojo’s hand presses into the curve of your back as he leaves over you. “fuck, you should just tell him. get this over with. let him know that you belong to someone else now. someone who is currently fucking you better than he ever could.”

your protests mirror your resolve and you can already feel your lips forming those exact words before you catch yourself. “i-i cant.” that was too much, right?

gojo didn’t seem to think so. he suddenly pulled out just enough to turn you over, hand still holding your hair hostage as he pushed your face into the mattress effectively ruining your ability to speak properly. 

“tell him, or i will. and i’ll add in every dirty little thing we’ve done leading up to this moment. you don’t belong to him anymore and he should know it. properly.”

‘hey, should i just come over?’ comes that voice again, a constant glutton for punishment.

“no!” you cry out. “i-we can’t- i’m.”

gojo decides to help you out. no longer willing to be a spectator as if he could be called such. “fuck, baby. make those pretty noises for me.”

‘is that someone else? are you with someone right now.’

gojo snatches up the opportunity, hand curling around the phone to place it against the tacky sweat accumulating against the skin between your shoulder blades. you can feel it teetering with each jerk of your body. 

“yeah, she is. apparently she needs help getting her point across. if she wants to contact you  she will do so on her terms. “ he huffs peevishly,“ until then fuck off or you can listen to me fuck her doesn’t matter to me.”

his commanding tone shouldn’t sound so hot. you can’t help but moan as he hits that spot just right. 

a high pitched ‘what the fuck’ grates unpleasantly against the mood you’re so desperate to build to its peak. 

“i take it back, hearing you screech is going to make me go soft. don’t call again.”

‘wait don’t-’ his protest comes a moment too late for gojo’s waning patient as he abruptly cuts off the call and flings the phone somewhere above your head. 

“I imagined that going much smoother in my head,” grunts as he picks up the pace.

your mouth falls open but nothing comes out. you’re unable to blink past the flood of light as you melt into the roll of his hips. there is nothing left for you to do but squeeze around him as you absorb each thrust. 

“i don’t know what i was expecting thinking you could form coherent sentences when i fuck you stupid like this.” his voice is markedly softer now, still agitated but gentler in his touch as he loosens his grip. your head turns without instruction, eagerly catching his mouth in a sloppy kiss. 

the tell tale tremble shudders from one end to the next as you dig your knees into the mattress and gyrate your hips. the angle rewards you with an opportunity to ride his cock straight into nirvana. gojo comes to shatter the already broken cry of release by manipulating speed and precision while you chant his name all the way over the edge. 

his breath comes in short rasps as he follows you over, body drawn up taut as his orgasm washes over.  

gojo’s weight is unforgiving, but thankfully brief when he collapses on top of you before rolling onto his side. he gathers you into his arms and rolls you in against his chest. his fingers chase yours and he brings them to his lips to kiss each one. 

“maybe you should have just gone with your idea and changed numbers.”

somehow you find the air to laugh as your head falls back against his sweaty shoulder. he shares your humor, smile sharp with a new prospect.

“or perhaps we can try again? maybe repeated exposure will do the trick.”

[yumeyooa]

revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢  pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ genre: angst | slight fluff | band au | slight highschool au | post breakup au | exes au | r 15 | guitarist! jungkook | vocalist! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢  warning: profanity | heavy drinking | toxic relationships | messy break-ups | self depriciation | bullying | messy closure | this is just very much super angsty

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!! 

navigation | collection masterlist

Life couldn’t be any better. 

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays. 

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work. 

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold. 

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it. 

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life. 

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through. 

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end. 

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band. 

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you. 

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different. 

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely. 

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way. 

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

 The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time. 

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps. 

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all. 

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same. 

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!" 

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes. 

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers. 

He genuinely seemed to care. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…" 

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for. 

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you. 

But he would have never expected this. 

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook. 

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry. 

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room. 

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon." 

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her. 

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared. 

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise. 

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place. 

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free. 

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much. 

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years. 

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?" 

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty. 

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group. 

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do. 

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm. 

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it. 

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was. 

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends. 

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju. 

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while. 

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking. 

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence, 

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke. 

In a way, it was kind of cute. 

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers. 

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined. 

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him. 

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips. 

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....” 

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep. 

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking. 

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will. 

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you. 

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook. 

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family. 

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other. 

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Why was he acting like this anyway? 

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight. 

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood. 

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier. 

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before? 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you. 

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be? 

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore. 

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him? 

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end. 

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help? 

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb. 

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen. 

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly. 

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them. 

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend. 

It was you. 

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you. 

Well, Jungkook be damned. 

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure. 

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing. 

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing. 

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning. 

You went into all of this, risking everything. 

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over. 

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him. 

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea. 

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny. 

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating. 

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating, 

Because immediately you got hooked. 

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.” 

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart. 

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself. 

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary. 

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out. 

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety. 

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years. 

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out? 

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments. 

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!” 

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you. 

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life. 

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had. 

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him. 

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same. 

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?” 

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady. 

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!” 

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot. 

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering. 

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did, 

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories. 

It was you. 

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that. 

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own. 

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit. 

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?” 

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster. 

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were. 

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right? 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable. 

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?” 

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!” 

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you. 

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?” 

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other. 

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached. 

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!” 

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about. 

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system. 

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out? 

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too. 

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes. 

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace. 

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control. 

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand. 

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours. 

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread. 

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years? 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years. 

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free. 

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life. 

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

 Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that? 

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?” 

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you. 

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat. 

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?” 

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again. 

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.” 

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it. 

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t. 

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers. 

“But what the fuck is this?” 

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end. 

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care. 

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault? 

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it. 

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha. 

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part. 

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good. 

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end. 

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you. 

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right? 

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it. 

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will. 

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done. 

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like. 

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world. 

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much. 

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you. 

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen? 

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you, 

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook. 

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process. 

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown. 

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you. 

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again. 

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not. 

And he was the only one to blame. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk​ 

[clarissalance]

Wolves

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!Reader, Diluc, Crepus

Warning: minor swearing, cheesy flirt, dry humour

Summary: All men are wolves.

A/N: Muahaha I have came back and brought you the blatant cheesy flirt. Welcome to the first lesson of flirting with Kaeya. Lol, guess who is coming next? 

Also, I’m planning to write a wind-trace fic because the game is so fun. (p/s: I waste 3 hours playing it) Guess who is in it? 

Okay, the first fic for my lover boy. Please give Kaeya a lot of love!! (*￣3￣)╭ 

Another beautiful day, another day of wasting the lovely weather to stay inside the study room, bury your head into the pile of books next to you. You let your eyes wander to the window again, gazing rays of light fleeting through the window, golden hues on the wooden floor. Tiny specks of dust accumulate overnight, fluttering around the curtain. Outside, the chirping birds bathing under the sun, casually chilling on the window. Oh, how you wish you would be able to relax like those carefree animals.  

“You might burn the birds crips the longer you stare at it.” Startled by the quiet voice, your head snaps toward the blue-haired teenage direction, and you can’t help but scowl at his statement. You can’t be the only person in the room who wants to go out and play. Knowing Kaeya, he’s definitely trying to find an excuse to end the class early. 

The only person who is diligent, hard-working, and does not have thought about leaving this room is the young master Diluc. The young man is sitting opposite you, eyes burning holes on the thick textbook. 

Archon, how can a 16 years old overly enthusiastic person like him enjoy the excitement of reading Descartes philosophy? Maybe he is the only child in Mondstadt, no, maybe in the whole Teyvat who enjoys something torturous like that. Shivering at your own thought, you shift your chair closer to Kaeya, giving Diluc a terror gaze.      

“Aren’t you going to finish the essay?” Pointing at the half-full parchment on the table, you ask. “ Diluc and I already finish it.” 

“ Oh, how do I know? How am I suppose to understand Kant and Descartes theories, and then link them to deductive and inductive reasoning?"  Kaeya lets his finger running through the silky blue hair and pulls them out of frustration. On the other side, Diluc shoots him a glare, annoyed by his brother complaint. 

 “How did you guys do it?” Kaeya asks boredly, his finger pokes the quill. 

You put your hand under your chin, beaming him charmingly.  “ You know Kaeya, it is something I call improvisation. Words just flow out of my tip.” Under your lashes, you can see his cheek dusting pink. Cute! 

“ Just read the books, and you will get it.” Diluc unhelpful adds. 

Both of you stare at red-head incredulously. Is he being serious? 

Like always, Kaeya knows he can not take your advice to heart. One is a genius, and the other is just pure luck.  

Suddenly, the door is burst open, and you quickly shove your feet into the shoes, eyes darting to see the intruder. Internally, you hope that person is not lady Elizabeth, your etiquette teacher. Your blood runs cold at the thought. You can already imagine her sharp tones commenting how horrendous and un-ladylike your act is. 

“How is your study going?” A deep, strong voice booming from the back, and finally, you get let out a breath. Diluc looks up from his book, beams brightly at the man. 

“ We are done with homework, father. These are just extra reading.” Well, for the record, these are his extra readings, not yours. And Kaeya hasn’t finished his 2 feet scrolls of essay yet. 

Master Crepus nods in satisfaction. “ If that is finished, you kids can take a break. The young lady from the Gunnhildr family is here with her father. Maybe you can give her some accompanies.”  The middle-aged man directs the words at you, maybe feeling guilty for leaving a young lady like you in his two sons care. 

Your parents left you in the Ragnvindr care every Summer because of their hectic schedules and frequent business trips at this time of the year. In addition, your mother says it is essential for you to have good relationships with the heir of Ragnvindr and his brother. “Maybe you will need their help someday.” She left it vaguely. 

“ Are you guys going to drink again?” Kaeya suspiciously questions, his eyes glinting with playfulness. 

“ Hey, what’s wrong with men having a drink together?” Crepus defensively retorts, notices how Diluc gives him a disproving gaze.

“ When you guys grow up, you would enjoy it too.” The three let out opposing noises, clearly not having the same idea as him. The man waves dismissively return back the topic. 

“ Let’s come down to greet the head of Gunnhildr first.” He heads toward the door, down the hallway.   

“And be nice to the young lady, boys.” The master emphasizes the phrase, his eyes pinning at the guilty-looking Kaeya and the absent-minded Diluc. Finally, he exits the room, not forgetting to close the door. 

“ Father says as if we don’t treat people nicely.” Kaeya pouts, right after Crepus footstep drifting away from the study. “ The workers never complain anything about our behaviours, right Luc?” 

Sitting next to him, you can't help but let out a snort. He dares to say that? Kaeya raises eyebrows at you, annoyed by your shaking shoulder. The boy in red has a blank face, maybe not interested. 

“ First, you guys ignore me for 2 weeks when I just came here.” You burst out in laughter, recalling back at the very first memory when you just arrived here.

“When I tried to approach, you both avoided me like the plague.” Your whole body is shaking vigorously, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. This is too hilarious! Somewhere in between, you can spot Diluc burning cheek. 

“ Haha, and haha-later,” You can hardly breath, laughter bubbling up. “Adeline told me your reason is ‘It's b-because she doesn’t have a willie.' ” Dramatically air-quoting, you even imitate their stuttering childish voices. This earns you a pointed glare from Diluc and a smack in the arm from Kaeya, but a good laugh is always worth it. 

Both of them freeze on their tracks, faces puff red as tomatoes, steaming almost coming off their ears. If the young heir is to wear a red suit, you are sure he can blend in well with the mansion roof. 

Diluc shifts stiffly in his chair and abruptly stands up, heading toward the exit. Maybe he is too embarrassed at the mention of his dark childhood. 

“Where-haha, are you going, Luc?” You are still in the middle of your giggling, noticing how Diluc is dashing to the door. Letting out a coughing fit, he quietly mumbles. 

 “ I'm going down to greet the Gunnhildr family.” His figure vanishes right behind the door, not letting you tease him further. Outside, the painful sound of Diluc tripping on his own feet make you almost fall off your chair. You have too many good laughs today. 

“Right, I-I should get going too.” Next to you, the blazing Kaeya remembers to dig a hole and hide. His hand slams hard on the table and the youthful teenager stands up, gracefully heading toward the door. Maybe he wants to avoid becoming another joke.  

" Ah, wait-" You follow instantly, but the moment you stand up, something slips, and the next thing you know, the ground is shaking, and you see the ceiling is getting further. 

Your first instinct is to grab the closest object, and then close your eyes, waiting for the painful impact with your head. Clench your jaw tightly, and you hold your breath, hoping it will hurt less if you tense your body. 

Right after tensing up, you feel someone just grab you by your shoulder, and your feet step on something bumpy. And then, your head makes an impact with something hard. A grunting is followed. 

Heart hammering in your chest, you cautiously peek, expecting yourself to see the ceiling, but instead, greet with an unusual sight. A pair of dark colour trouser paired with leather shoes. On top of it is your feet, loosely wore low heel is stepping on that leather shoes. Shit, you stepped on Kaeya. In a panic, you rush down from his painful sore feet, but your head jams in his ribs. He just let out another woeful sound.   

This time, you carefully keep your position in place, slowly remove each foot one by one, moving away from him. Craning your neck upward, you finally meet his gaze, his eyes are full of concern and uneasiness, spooked out by your sudden incident.

 “Did you hit your head hard?” Kaeya asks you nervously, his voice laced with anxiety. He must have been terrified when you slip. You shake your head, hands grabbing his shirt.

" I should be asking you that. Are you okay?" You give him a worrying gaze, your fingers running along his ribs, checking if your stone head broke anything. " I didn't break anything, right?" Hesitantly, you look into his deep blue eyes, noticing the diamond shape. Has he always has this in his eyes? 

Kaeya snorts inelegantly, shakes his head. " Your head is hard as a rock, but that much can't break my ribs yet." This earns him a hit on his arm. 

"Hey! I'm trying to be considerate, and this is how you treat me?" You jab him, hand purposely smack his chest, but he doesn't budge an inch. How strong is this guy? This time, you put all the force on your arm, slapping hard on his chest again. The young man in the blues shoot you a shit-eating grin, clearly not faze.  

 "How is my chest feeling?" He pokes, his palm engulfing yours. 

" Too hard for my liking." You give him a complex look, trying to escape from his tight grip but fail miserably. You wiggle your hand again, shaking off his iron clad. Why is he so strong? 

While you are attempting to flee from his firm grasp, the young man leans down, face an inch away from you. Flushing at the sudden closure, like usual,  you avoid his burning gaze. You hold your breath when your noses almost touch. What is this rascal doing again? 

" You shouldn't be touching men like that." Kaeya opens his mouth, saying something completely out of nowhere. You tilt your head in confusion, while your eyes travel down, you notice your hands still on his chest. O-oh, so he is saying about this. 

" I  don't normally touch random people." You mumble defensively, your eyes lower. " I was checking for your injury."

"They will misunderstand." Kaeya cuts in right after, not accepting the excuse. But why would they misunderstand? You are just being nice, right? 

Like he can understand what is going inside your mind, Kaeya reminds you.

"All men are wolves, you should be more be careful with them."   

You give him a confusing look. 

Kaeya is not one of them, right? 

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and moves back, allowing you to savour your personal space. Just right after your throbbing heart finally calms down, he brings your tight-griped hand in his to his face. Your meet with his alluring look in his eyes. It is pulling you in, telling you to give in the temptation. Plump lips brush your knuckle teasingly, he blows a warm breath on the back of your hand. He gives you a saccharine smile.

" And if not be careful." His husky voice ringing in your ears, the numbing spark runs along your spine. "They might devour you." 

[justasimplesinner]

Please for the love of fuck give me a happy ending to the riddler/scarecrow breaking hcs that may or may not start off with the reader running into them again and being understandably pissed. I just want to throw a vase at Eddie. I can have a mature conversation with Johnathan with some raised voices and some crying from both parties but I want to throttle that green goblin lookin motherfucker. I want to see fear in that man's eyes as I curbstomp his stank ass for living in my head and never paying rent. Cause that shit broke me no pun intended.

I'm a soft bitch I need someone to put a bandaid on the hurtie and kiss is to make it feel better.

ugh, you fuckin' softies. continuation of this post

Arkham Knight!Riddler getting his happy ending hcs:

like i stated in the previous post, you two may have not been together anymore, but that didn't mean he'd leave you alone. you were the last bit of his sanity, at this point, he didn't know how to live without you. he was constantly lying to himself and you about the motives behind his calls and visits, but truth was, he was just trying to cling on. he couldn't let you go, you were his raft in the middle of the fucking ocean, if he let you go, he'd... he wouldn't survive that. he didn't know how

but it doesn't mean that this whole thing sat well with you. fucking bastard, neglects you for years, treats you like the very dirt he walks on and now has the gall to fucking invade your private space? ruin you completely? it's like it didn't matter if you were with him or not, he'd still find a way to fucking destroy you. and you, on one hand, genuinely wanted out. you wanted him out of your life, because you had only one and you didn't want to live it in misery, you didn't want to just suffer and take it like a good puppy. you weren't even sure he realised the extent to which he fucking hurt you, because he was constantly focusing on himself and no one else, because selfishness was his coping mechanism and he wouldn't change

it was only logical that at some point, you'd have enough. you didn't want to fucking live like this. he didn't have a right to just sit there and do nothing and yet simultaneously do damage. he was a grown fucking man and it was time he made a grown fucking choice

– Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up-... – you didn't give him the chance to finish, your fist connecting hard with his nose, or maybe it was his cheek, though you hoped it was his eye so it'd hurt the most. You didn't really know, you didn't really care, you've had fucking enough. You knew he was there, in your house, before he even opened his yapping mouth, and you didn't fancy being greeted in your only safe (or, apparently, not-so-safe) space by a fucking insult from the man responsible for all your current misery.

You didn't feel a pang of regret, quite the contrary, his stumbling form and widened eyes gave you this weird feeling of satisfaction. You kind of understood why Batman did what he did, beating Ed's ass was just too rewarding.

– I've had fucking enough of you and your stupid charade! – you didn't plan on beating around the bush anymore, it was time he was fucking faced with the consequences of what he did.

He didn't have the time to recover from your last blow before the first thing you could grab collided with his shoulder - a vase, apparently, and it shattered into small pieces upon impact. Great, now he fucking ruined your favourite vase, too, as if your life wasn't enough for him!

– You have no right to fucking invade my house and treat me like shit even after I've dumped you! – with every word, with every step you took forward, he took one back, eyes wide in genuine fear as he tried to back away from you, maintain a safe distance, as if anything could save him from your wrath now.

– If I mean nothing to you, then why the fuck are you even here?! Why the fuck do you insist on getting me all tangled up in your stupid games?! I'm not gonna fucking sit here and take it like an obedient pet just because you can't get over the fact that we're not together anymore! – you raged on, and you had no intention of stopping, you watched him back away, you watched him stupidly bump into the side of your couch and fall on his stupid fucking ass. He deserved to fall on the floor, not on a set of nice, comfy pillows. But he had no way out now. He had nowhere to run, not when you fucking rounded up on his shock-still form.

– I-... – he dared to try and interrupt you and it was truly the last straw, it was all you needed to have angry tears blur your vision and your hands clenched in fists again.

– You never even fucking apologized to me for anything either! Did it ever fucking occur to you that if, instead of tormenting me and calling me an idiot, you just fucking said you're sorry, pushed your idiotic pride aside and genuinely fucking said you're sorry, then I would've taken you back?! That maybe we wouldn't be here, in this fucking situation, if you just weren't selfish for once and apologized for all the shit you did to me, all the pain you've put me through-

– I'm sorry. – it was so quiet you almost didn't hear it. So shaky and breathy, so fucking... guilty. Heartbroken. So utterly pathetic. Just like he was, just like he looked. Just like you wanted him to be, but now that he was, you hated it. You hated his glossed over, wide eyes, the shame in them, the guilt, the pain. You hated his arms, slightly risen in a protective manner because he expected another blow. He deserved another one, but... it's like he was just a child then. Just this small, broken boy that was afraid to admit he was wrong, that was afraid of the punishment that awaited for him. And all over again, he made you want to pull him close to your chest and kiss it all better, make it so he'd never experience this pain again. And you hated yourself for it.

you've destroyed the fucking dam then. you haven't heard this man apologize to you once in your entire life, and suddenly, you were swarmed with sorries, with regrets and sorrows and his tears. suddenly, he remembered every smallest thing he ever did that made you upset, and he apologized over and over, for everything and anything, and you thought he was going to suffocate with how he was crying and rambling on your couch

god, he wasn't fucking worth it, you knew that, but suddenly, he was in your arms again, and you were soothing his shaking form, again. you were back there to ground him, to comfort him, to make him feel loved, even if he didn't deserve it. you were there to listen to his - probably empty - promises to change, even though you knew he most likely didn't have the power to change at this point, and god dammit - you believed it. or wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that maybe you were important and that maybe he will put the effort in changing for you this time as you kissed him breathless and let him cling onto you for dear life. you wanted to believe that he deserved a(nother) second chance and that there was still hope for him as you clung right back. you missed having him right there, in your embrace. despite everything. and maybe you were just plain out stupid, or maybe he truly made a promise he, for once, intended to keep. and honestly? you weren't sure if you were ready to find out

you also apologized for throwing a vase at him. he wasn't mad. if he was, you'd throw another one. he had no right to be mad

Arkham Knight!Jon getting his happy ending hcs:

Jon genuinely thought about seeking you out, hoping that maybe that would give him some closure, that it would make him able to work and function properly again. but he realised how stupid, how selfish and disgusting that was. he swore to himself he won't even fucking force you to look at his ugly mug again. he had no right to come to you, expecting the person he pushed away in order to work to help him get back to work. he didn't fucking deserve to even breathe the same air as you

he kept tabs on you though. he had to know where you lived now, where you worked, and knowing where you were at all times would be ideal too, but he didn't dare go that far as to have someone stalk you. it's not out of some creepy obsession, it's actually out of... concern. sounds ridiculous, especially since he hadn't expressed any concern for you for the past few months, but he... he really didn't want to ever hurt you again. even accidentally. even if you were to be collateral damage. he needed to know the places he could target and the places he couldn't, he needed to know when, where and on who he could test his freshest batches and when, where and on who he couldn't. he hurt you enough. he destroyed your mind enough. he wasn't about to subject you to your worst fears too

but a reunion was inevitable, it seemed. one way or another, fate was bent on bringing you two back together. and so, he missed the fact that you changed your jobs and started working at Ace Chemicals, front desk actually, passing around exactly the information he needed about the company, it's building and resources

You genuinely couldn't believe your fucking eyes. You couldn't believe his cheek. The gall he had to be standing right here, in front of you, in his tattered, dirty "glory", milky eyes seeming wild behind the mask, as if he didn't expect you to be here. As if he hadn't planned it all.

– What are you doing here? – you didn't even have the strength to get angry at him anymore. You just resigned yourself to the fact that he was going to haunt you every single day for the rest of your life, be it in person or as a fleeting thought in your mind. You weren't allowed to get rid of him. You weren't allowed to forget.

– I could be asking you the same question. – his tone was hard to decipher. As if it was emotionless, but at the same time wasn't. Like there was something behind it, something he didn't want you to see. Something he himself wasn't ready to face.

You were already too exhausted mentally to give a shit.

– I work here. – you sighed, using that mocking tone he always used on you whenever you asked "stupid" questions. Funny, how one day he tells you there are no stupid questions and that you can always ask away, that he will always listen, and then treats you like an idiot when you do.

And yet you still loved his sarcasm, loved his quips and biting remarks. This was who he was, and you did, after all, love him as a whole.

– I didn't know that. – you were actually ready to believe that, what with how he was still standing there, practically in the doorway. He didn't round up on you yet, he didn't corner you like you were his prey. Actually, it seemed he thought you were the predator, like he was... scared to come closer.

Maybe that was better for the two of you. Who know what you'd do if he started to come at you like he owned you and this whole place.

– Oh, didn't you now? – you couldn't allow him to know though. It was his turn to get the cold shoulder for once. Not that he cared enough to be hurt by it. Not that he ever cared. About you, about anything. Anything but his work.

Jesus, fuck, you couldn't break down in front of him. You already did in the past. Way too many times. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

– You shouldn't've gotten a job here. – he seemed to feel as if he had it anyway – I work with chemicals on a daily basis and you know I'm planning to gas the entire city, it is only logical for me to take advantage of having a huge chemical factory right in the middle of it. It was obvious I'd come here sooner or later. – every word he said, he took a step closer to the desk. Every word he said, he beat you down into the ground harder. Obviously, you were in the wrong. Yet again. Always your fault. Why would you distract him from his goal yet again? Why would you meddle? It seemed that even if you didn't want to, you proved to be an inconvenience, a chink in the chain that was his research. It didn't matter what you did, it was never going to be good enough.

You two weren't compatible, after all.

– Yep, I'm stupid, I get it. Go on, psychoanalize me too, tell me how I did it knowingly just because I wanted to see you again. – you couldn't stop yourself from snarling at him. As always, he only came to you to break down what you've so carefully built back together. It was always that way, if you really thought about it. Every time you were starting to get used to his absence, starting to truly live on your own, he suddenly appeared, acted like everything was fine, acted like he loved you, and you believed it like the fool you were. You believed it and then he left you alone again. You believed it and then you woke up to an empty bed again. Every single time.

Maybe you really were a fucking idiot.

– And did you? – or maybe he was one, because this comment only resulted in riling you up more and yet he dared to fucking ask.

– I fucking hate you Jon. – you weren't ready to believe that what he just did at your words was flinching. That it hurt enough for him to physically move away. – If I wanted to look at your face again, I'd just turn on the news.

– I don't want to hurt you. – that was bullshit. He never did anything else. Hurting you was what he was best at, and he prided himself in it. – But I need access to the vast supply of chemicals your workplace has to offer. – even when you two fucking argued, it always came down to his work. Even when you told him you hated him, all he offered back was that he didn't care and came here just to get shit done. He didn't even fucking care enough to at least say he hates you back.

– You don't want to hurt me? That's a new one. – you were really tempted to just roll your eyes and go back to work. To ignore him, like he always did to you. But suddenly, you realised just how close he was. Practically leaning over the desk. His scarred face hooded and covered in a mask, hidden away from you. That face you wanted to stare into every time you woke up, that face you wanted to be the last thing you saw every day you went to sleep. That face that you wanted to kiss better, to make him know. Make him know you didn't mind. Make him know he was still handsome as ever. He never believed you, and you saw that. You saw that very clearly in his milky eyes. It's like they were fogged, like his mind was surrounded with fog and blurred reality with imagination, like there was this barrier between the two of you.

It wasn't there at first. But then he changed, and you didn't really know who he was anymore.

– I'm sorry. – it felt like pity. Like he pitied you. Like he was saying it just so you'd shut the fuck up and move out of his way at last.

And maybe it was better if you did.

– Save it. I won't get in the way of your plans, don't worry. I'm not getting paid enough to sacrifice myself for this place either way. – you were gathering your things, leaving the computer on, the information unguarded. You could use a day off, anyway. To cry in peace or whatever.

No such luck apparently, since Jonathan immediately had you in a grip, his fingers flexing against your arms.

– No, (Y/n). I'm sorry.

you really weren't ready for that conversation. not at all. you would never be ready for that. seeing Jon apologizing, hell, seeing him crying, genuinely crying in front of you, over you, wasn't something you ever expected to see. Jonathan, despite being a skilled psychologist, never really talked about his emotions. he was always hellbent on talking through yours - well, at the beginning he was, until the whole "spiralling into his obsession" thing started. then, he stopped, because he didn't have time for you. or, as he now explained, didn't have the courage to face how much he's hurt you. you really wanted to fucking punch him then, when he told you that he knew. that he knew all the time what he was doing, and yet never stopped, as if he purposefully sabotaged your relationship so you'd leave him. you knew he had his problems and you couldn't blame him for that, but you could blame him for running away from them. you could blame him for treating you like shit since he woke up from his short coma after the incident with Killer Croc. hell, he took the blame full on

you've never heard him so... bare. so raw. so vulnerable. when he apologized to you, thanked you for everything you ever fucking did, for always helping him, for sticking by him for that long, for enduring him and showing him how it feels to be loved, he was but a broken man. for the first time in... assumably ever, Jonathan didn't hide behind any walls and just... let the words flow. both of you knew that wasn't enough to compensate for what he did. nothing will ever be enough. he will never give you back everything that he took from you, and your heart will never fully heal. even if you two got back together, he wouldn't resign from his research either, and more likely than not, it was all going to end exactly the same, with him hiding away from you because apparently, acting like he didn't love you saved you from the heartbreak, and you having to mend your broken heart on your own, alone, knowing you will never get all your lost time back. you will never get back the time you spent crying in your home because you knew he wasn't coming. and yet, you - like the idiot you probably were - dived right back in. because you fucking loved him. and maybe it was stupid, and maybe his arms clinging onto you as you kissed him for the first time in months were stupid too, but if being stupid meant being happy, even for just one moment, you were going to take it

Jonathan still had a lot to make up for. you didn't think he will ever manage, honestly. but you were excited to see him try

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 04

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: excessive amounts of pining, explicit smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation 

words: 10.3k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: thank you for waiting... if you've stuck around this long :") i've tried so hard for the past couple months to condense this story into the original length (3 chapters) but i've gotten attached and i'm afraid that this will turn into a longfic at the rate i'm going. so after this chapter, i'll be sure to post lots of drabbles of the scenes i couldn't fit in!! thank you so much for the wild ride, and without further ado, i present to you don't rush 04. 

start from the beginning?

You can’t bring yourself to fault Yoongi for what happened that morning. You also can’t bring yourself to say that it was your fault either–or even that there may be a single person to blame. 

24 hours of radio silence. No good morning text, no morning after–or really, afternoon after–text. Nothing. 

The thing about silence–absolute silence, with the exception the low hum of the air-con, or the distant sounds of a city, or footsteps from the room above you–is how slowly it passes. Maybe that’s why you’re a music student, spending all your time filling the silence with your own music. 

Silence is such an empty space–and can breed such bored thoughts. And where else for your mind to wander but Yoongi? 

It’s not that you were waiting for a text from him, it’s just that… you were half-expecting a text from him. Like he owed it to you. Even if none of this had ever happened, he would have texted you good morning by now. 

At least in your head, it seems fair that the onus is on Yoongi to text first. After all, he was the one who dragged you tightly by the wrist back to his apartment. He pushed you down on his couch, and in a very roundabout way, made you late for class. 

It’s not that you let this whole affair happen to you, but he started it. So it’s his job to text first. That’s the excuse you use, for not being brave enough to do it instead. 

It honestly feels a little pathetic that most of your thoughts outside of music and school are occupied by Min Yoongi. Even now, weeks after you’ve started talking to him, even mere thoughts of him elicit physical reactions from you. 

Your heart rate picking up, skin flushing where your neck meets your collarbone… maybe you’re allergic to Min Yoongi.  

It’s hard for your mind not to run wild with conclusions and assumptions after what happened between the two of you, even if a day hasn’t elapsed yet.  

Why hadn’t he texted? Does he do this often? Did he hate it? Did he ghost me, and now I’m never going to hear from him again? Should I text him first? Why is this so hard? 

Why do I care so much? 

The worst part is, you can’t turn it off. The thoughts follow you throughout the day, a weight sitting on your shoulders as you flit from class to class, building to building, rehearsal to rehearsal. Once the sun dips below the horizon, you’ve almost completed the process of resigning yourself to never knowing the answers to any of your questions. 

You make a note to yourself that you might start grieving the loss of any sort of closure–other than what Yoongi had given you the day before. All evenings this semester have been relegated to the confines of the practice room, so that’s where you head next after chamber music rehearsals end. Finally, the Bach partita has a purpose in your life other than plaguing your waking dreams–something to focus on other than Yoongi. But for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic when it’s put like that. 

Your. Life. Doesn’t. Revolve. Around. Min. Yoongi. You tell yourself, punctuating each word as you march down the stairwell in the music building. You clutch your violin case to your body, seeking warmth in the cold plastic. 

The universe likes to play tricks on people, and its language is irony. Yoongi taught you that lesson, the hard way. 

So it almost makes sense that the next time you encounter Yoongi is when you collide head-on with Yoongi’s smooth chest as you speed-walk through the doorway once you’re at the foot of the stairs. Just as you dreaded (and knew was going to happen anyway), your cheeks light up, some light from deep within you turning on. You kick yourself for the fact that your entire body perks up in his existence, erasing the cold and the tiredness from the night before. 

“Oh–I didn’t expect to see you here.” At the very least, Yoongi doesn’t look like he hates you. Or is disgusted by you. If anything, he looks a bit coy. If you could let yourself believe it, there might even be the warmth of fondness in his eyes, and even more incredulously, maybe the hard edge of guilt. 

“Didn’t expect? Yoongi, I’m here more than my own room.” You laugh despite the thoughts that have been trailing you all day, sounding something like cherry blossoms floating on the new breeze that spring has brought. You feel like you’ve forgiven him for something that he didn’t do, even if he hasn’t said anything yet. 

Just seeing him makes you feel better, the devil in the back of your head whispers. 

“Right, right.” His answering laughter is familiar. Even now, ever after everything, he still has the audacity to smooth his hands over your shoulders, make sure you’re intact and okay. “Violin okay? You okay?” 

You try not to let his scant touches send a shiver down your spine, just so you don’t give him that satisfaction, but you fail all the same. You manage a nod, but can barely bring yourself to look in his eyes. But is it for fear of seeing that warm tenderness again, or something else? 

“So…” With no prompting from you, Yoongi slides a fingertip underneath your chin. It feels simultaneously casual and momentous, and you’re not sure which one you prefer. 

Is this really happening right now? 

He looks deep into your eyes, taking inventory of something that you’re too self-conscious to think about right now. 

Of course, you’re self-conscious. You bump into your hookup a day after the fact, now that it’s nighttime in the practice rooms on the second floor of the music building. Both of you should be somewhere else, anywhere else, preferably drunk. How could it not be awkward, and how could you not feel self-conscious? 

His eyes flick lower, to your lips, and you avert your gaze. Yoongi’s hand returns to his side, and he coughs. 

“Sooo…” You say, digging your foot through the carpet, the warmth of his hands lingering on your skin. You play with the buckles on your violin case, just to give your hands something to do. You hope he says something first, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it. 

“Got something to say?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He coughs again. 

“I thought you were going to say something,” You say, still not looking at him. It’s all you can do to not shrink away. In the dim lighting of the mouth of the hallway, there’s no way he can see your blush, but you turn away all the same. 

He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t, or maybe like he’s purged the last thirty-six hours from his memory. “Let’s not be strangers, come on. Are you busy?” 

“Not… particularly.” You commit to the words before you can finish the thought. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Right. So he wants something from you. Of course, of course he wants something from you. 

“What kind of favor?” 

“I was going to print something downstairs, but now that you’re here, can you listen to my piece? I need a second opinion.” He sighs, as if remembering something sweet. “It’s time I made it even, right? I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He smiles, just barely, and yet it feels like a gift. 

So that’s it. It’s confirmed. This is officially Not a Thing, you consign yourself to the fact. It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t a little bit relieved. At least you have an answer. 

There’s no need for a great step forward that’s necessary. No more awkward conversations like these, no admitting of feelings, let alone reciprocation of feelings. 

Nothing has to change between the two of you. Isn’t that what you wanted? 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You say, like it shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. You hate that even despite his silence on the matter, you’re running back to his side. You hate that you’re happy that he still wants anything to do with you. You ignore the empty kind of ache in your chest, too hollow and too full at the same time. 

You follow him down the narrow hallway, past the couch where it all began, and into the practice room. Of course, Yoongi’s already booked the only one isn’t a dingy cesspool. 

He pats the space next to him on the piano bench, beckoning you closer. 

“Sit down, don’t stand the whole time.” 

“Don’t you need the space?” 

“No, no, it’s okay. Come here.” If it’s even possible, your face burns even hotter when you sit down next to him, shoulders brushing just so. It’s harder to forget about the fact that you are hopelessly crushing on Min Yoongi when you’re literally touching him again. 

It reminds you of all his touches from before, because it was good. The sex was good. If it had been awkward and fumbling, if Min Yoongi hadn’t been able to push you over the edge with only his mouth and that look in his eye, you would be a lot more inclined to leave those memories in the past. 

You don’t need to relive the memory over and over, an endless reel. And yet, glimpses, flashes, disjointed stills of that morning still follow you everywhere. But you look at him now, silently flipping through the marked pages on his score, and now you see more than just a good lay. Looking at him now, in his natural state, you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, you’re whipped, there’s no chance for you.  

“I don’t have it memorized yet, please don’t judge me.” You try not to think about the way he had pulled you closer by your hips. You try not to think about what you might have thought was lovesickness in his eyes. You try not to think of the timbre of his voice, when he told you to come for him. You try not to think about that. 

“Really, a pianist who can’t memorize his pieces? Sacreligious.” The delivery of your jibe falls flat. You steady the ricketing breath in your lungs. You’re nervous, and tired. Accepting that your Min Yoongi has absolutely no interest in you other than when he needs you for something isn’t easy, you know. 

“Oh come oooon y/n, this is something I’m learning this semester.” He pouts, just like he had before the both of you had fallen into this nebulous mess of feelings. Or maybe, it’s all one-sided and you’re the only one feeling like things have gotten messy. 

You poke him in the side, which you regret immediately after doing so. “I’m just joking. Show me your piece. Are you warmed up?” Yoongi turns pink, again. 

You remember the pink dusting his cheeks when he was–right, you’re supposed to be forgetting that ever happened. 

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, everything moving in slow motion. Your head is swimming. 

Well, maybe things aren’t moving in slow motion, and it’s the proximity to Min Yoongi that’s making time distort. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m fine. Are you ready to listen?” 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” 

Yoongi hovers his hands over the keys. He does that pianist thing you’ve always loved, where he pauses before the keys, preparing to play. 

He leans in slowly, sinking his hands down, pulling out a sound so sweet and, so, so solemn. This is a different Yoongi than the one thirty seconds ago. 

You realize somewhat belatedly that the fluorescent lights, the same ones that erase any sort of proper time telling in windowless rooms like these, still make Yoongi look good. The light bounces off of him just right, his cheekbones casting a gentle shadow on the sloped panes of his face. Like the rest of him, there’s no harsh angles, just soft gentle slopes that feel like home. Like comfort. Your gut twists in yearning. The hollow of his cheekbone is the perfect place to kiss, you ponder. 

Things should be easier now. All of it was a mistake. It’s in the past. It seems that Yoongi doesn’t seem to care at all. It should be forgotten about. Things, in theory, should be easier now. You should be able to carry on as you’ve always been able to. The path of least resistance, right?

He pauses, and begins what must be the main theme, cascading sixteenth-notes that sound about as tumultuous and troubled as you feel. 

He looks like he’s about to cry. Sure, you’ve seen sleepy Yoongi, cranky Yoongi, even a little bit of earnest, pleading Yoongi. But whoever is in front of you is entirely different. He’s approaching the main theme again, hands jumping over the keys as if they were hot irons. You can see all the versions of him laid out before you. Younger Yoongi, hands too small to reach the tenths written in his score. Hungover Yoongi that shuffles into class a couple minutes late, remnants of a late night out drinking written all over his face. The Yoongi that holds your hands between his and tells you that everything is going to be okay. 

When he reaches the final cadence, he doesn’t look at you immediately, still trained on the keys. His hands are still placed in the final chord, lifting them off slowly so the sound doesn’t quite fade away yet. The both of you stay like that, in the aftermath of what he just played. You hear the click as he takes his foot off the pedal. The tension that he was churning out doesn’t fade away when the sound stops. If anything, it gets worse. Blood rushes to your cheeks, the room warmer than it was before. 

“So… that’s what I’ve been working on so far. I, uh, hope you liked it.” It’s shocking how that compelling spirit from just minutes ago dissipates into thin air. He looks vulnerable, naked despite the fact that he’s fully clothed. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Yoongi.” You laugh in disbelief, blinking away tears. God, you are so fucked. Sure, you’ve heard him play before, practicing with him. But you’re not practicing with him now, you’re watching. You’ve become the audience, and the dynamic has changed once again. 

There’s been many a night where you googled his previous performances and competitions on Youtube, but this doesn’t compare. Not in the slightest. So this is what all your teachers were talking about when they were lecturing you about the importance of stage presence. 

“Uh, wow. Wow.” You’re still tearing up, no matter how much you try to will it away. 

You’re not even really sure why you’re tearing up or why you can’t stop. It’s usually difficult for music to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. Goosebumps, sure. That very specific thrill down your spine when you hear music that isn’t so much as something that you hear, but feel in your blood, thumping, alive, real. 

But tears, no. That doesn’t happen.

It feels like your body is reacting to something that isn’t tangible, that you can’t see with your eyes or hear with your ears. Like there’s something else in the room that you can’t quite register. Like you’re crying despite yourself. 

You desperately want to kiss him. You want to pull him close and breathe in his familar scent and feel him pull you closer. It feels like the only appropriate thing to do, rather than just say “wow” over and over, in that stupid longing voice because you don’t what else to say. This is too overwhelming. More overwhelming than what it feels like when he finally puts his hands on you. 

It’s the only thing you want to do. You can’t imagine the night ending in any other way. It seems like it was prewritten in the stars, like the universe came together to stitch this scene together. Like it was fate for you to find him here, long after the sun disappeared over the horizon, practicing just like you were.

But you can’t, so you hug him. Like an absolute idiot. 

You regret it as soon as your arms circle around his shoulders. Yoongi stiffens, as if startled, as if he wasn’t expecting the hug either. Then his hand come to awkwardly pat the space between your shoulder blades, as if this couldn’t get any worse. This feels like a consolation prize. 

He can’t see your face nestled against his shoulder, but you cringe. 

You feel the vibration of his laughter against you, his shoulders shaking, “You liked it that much?” You can feel the way his voice resonates in his chest, and like everything else about this ordeal, it’s overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” You pull back away from him, relieved that the moment is over, “Yeah, I liked it. Winter Wind, right?” 

“Yeah, fitting for this fucking weather.” 

You laugh. “Look, thanks. But I gotta go, it’s getting late and I have a paper due tonight. Thank you, again. It’s really good.” You pick up your case, “You have good start, but keep practicing. Can’t stop until you have it memorized, ha.” You try to force a laugh. 

You hope you don’t look like you’re fleeing the scene. (Except you are. You leave the building without even practicing. But you don’t tell him that.) 

As you stream down the steps leading to the music building, the cool night air blotting away the swelling tears in your eyes, there’s something else that takes up residence in your heart: jealousy, and initiative. 

You envy the lucky bitch that ends up with Min Yoongi. And if Yoongi won’t talk about it, then you will. You won’t let him drag you around on a whim without a real answer. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer. 

~

Min Yoongi doesn’t like you back. 

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself before he goes to sleep, as if lying to himself might make sleep come more easily. 

The truth is, you are Min Yoongi’s favorite bedtime story. Like many other nights before, Yoongi falls asleep thinking of you, hashing and rehashing all the little details and inside jokes and past conversations. It’s a small comfort during this semester, thoughts of you keeping him warm. 

Tonight, Yoongi is replaying the conversation from earlier, the way he saw you nervously rubbed at the tough calluses on your left hand while he was playing for you, out of the corner of his eye. It made Yoongi want to make you smile, laugh at his bad jokes, and maybe, if you’d let him, gasp against his lips. It’s been less than a day since he saw you and yet he misses your laugh. 

That morning after class, you had sat up, blinking away the sun filtering through his shades, or maybe trying to clear the post-orgasm fog. Post- orgasms fog. Then you mumbled something about being late for class, a thin layer of sweat shining down to your chest. 

You had thanked him, then laughed at the misstep. God, you were so dorky that you thanked him. How was he ever supposed to resist you? 

How had the two of you come so far? 

 And the guiltiest indulgences Yoongi would allow himself in the middle of the night were the things he hadn’t experienced with you. Like a kiss. He hasn’t gotten a chance to do that, not yet. Maybe not ever. Would it be chaste? Slow and romantic? Or would it be impassioned and angry? 

Yoongi is particularly fond of the image of taking you to the jazz cafe a little ways away from campus. Would you wear a dress, once the weather warms up a little bit? What kind of coffee would you order? Do you even like jazz? What would it feel like to feel your hand slotted against his? 

He definitely wasn’t been thinking about pushing you up against the mirror in the practice room and seeing if the soundproof padding was actually properly installed. Or about that morning after classes, and those little mewling noises you made to urge him on. You were so desperate. It was cute, to say the least. 

But Yoongi wasn’t trying to think about that right now. He was thinking more about your unwavering diligence. Or the merriment in your eyes despite the tired shadows that hung beneath them. Or the way you didn’t back down from the way that he was obviously flirting with him, fighting fire with fire.

How much longer can the both of you live in denial, waiting for the other to make a tentative step forward? 

The more he thinks about it–about you–the less he can comfortably stay in his little bubble of denial. Denial can only get him so far. He tells himself that whatever relationship between the two of you is inevitable, and someone is going to do something eventually, and that’s why he’s not making a move just yet. 

Much of your relationship (or lack thereof) has been stepwise progression, slow steps. Graduating slowly from classmate to study partners to friends and closer, still. And now Yoongi had made this great leap and it felt like the both of you were lost amid the signals and the truths neither of you knew how to broach. 

And no matter how brave he is on stage, it’s nothing compared to being up close and personal with you. Cheesily enough, it’s easy enough to show a crowd what he’s been working on for months, but with you, he has to improvise. 

Truth be told, Yoongi knew he was being idealistic. The space that you two existed in had become precious to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance, until now. There’s no easy way to make this all go away. Both of you were in too deep now. 

He saw the way you sighed into his touch, the way your eyes would go unfocused when he said something that was even remotely flirtatious, then then snap back to reality, as if you were reminding yourself of something. He knew you wouldn’t do anything any time soon. The past evening had shown him that. 

  And how was he supposed to admit his feelings for you… when he could hardly admit them to himself, in the privacy of his own room? 

And now, how could Yoongi make sense of anything? Every quiet moment carried the ghost of your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way you had squeezed your eyes shut when he brought you to rapture. Even when you’re not with him, you’re filling up his senses. His thoughts. 

Am I in love with my friend? Are we friends because we’re in love? Am I feeling like this because of the way she says my name? Am I feeling like this because of the way she touches me? 

So those are all the reasons. To not talk to you. To talk to you. God, how the fuck was Yoongi supposed to know? 

~

You (5:03pm): hey, I think we should talk soon 

 The minutes tick by. Does the time always pass this slowly, you think to yourself. Your hand hovers over your phone keyboard. 

Fuck… what have I done. 

 You (5:15pm): that sounds sooo scary lol no pressure okay? 

 You grow desperate in the wake of his silence. Have you ruined it all?  

 Yoongi (5:30pm) yeah 

Yoongi (5:31pm): sorry I was practicing 

Yoongi (5:31pm): wasn’t looking at my phone  

Yoongi (5:31pm): let’s talk then 

Yoongi (5:32pm): where are you? 

 You find yourself at his apartment once again, the closed door spelling out all the possibilities in front of you. At least give him the benefit of the doubt, something reasons inside of you, but something darker says, think of what he’s put you through.  

Think of what you’ve put yourself through, you finally think. You’ve stood outside long enough. You’ve overwrought this, alone, long enough. 

Each knock that you rap against the door sounds like another nail in the coffin, but you still cling onto the last dregs of hope left in you. 

The door opens immediately, a rush of warm air enveloping you from outside. “Hey,” Yoongi says, shyly, almost demure in his lounge clothes and undone hair. 

You want to take him apart. 

“Hey,” You mirror, and try to pretend like Min Yoongi hasn’t stolen the breath out of you for what seems like the thousandth time. You hate that he has this effect on you. With nothing but a simple greeting, it seems like you’ve forgiven him for all your grief already. You try to push that feeling further down, trying to stay objective. 

Yoongi leads you to his couch. “Here… sit down. It’s cold outside, I made tea,” He says, padding into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything else, but it looks like he knows exactly what you want to talk about. There’s something in the little tick in his jaw that tells you he’s just as sure as you are, but you’re tired of guessing. Your eyes are blurring from looking in between the lines for so long. 

There’s a big difference between overt facts and implied certainties. Fact: You and Yoongi are friends who study together, and now, ex-hookups. Implied: There’s something more there, something between friend and one-time hookup. 

“Um, what did you want to talk about?” Yoongi says, setting down a steaming mug in front of you. You don’t reach for it. 

“I–” You steel yourself for the words to tumble out of your mouth, but you lose your nerve. You had prepared a whole monologue on the walk to his apartment, but it doesn’t seem right now. You sigh, loosening the tension in your shoulders. “I wanted to talk about… about the last time I was at your apartment.” You hope it’s enough for him to get your point, and you hope that he’ll be honest and direct. He owes at least that much to you. 

“What about last time? Like specifically, what about last time?” Yoongi says, not flippantly. Please, you silently plead, please… just say something good.  

“Yoongi,” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come, “What happens now? What does it mean? Please, just be honest.” When you hear your voice leave your body, you can hear how pained you sound. It wasn’t something you intended. You match his gaze and his eyes are like mirrors. “Yoongi… whatever you say, I won’t be angry. I just–I just want to know how you feel.” Your voice trembles. You hope you don’t sound as pathetic and humiliated as you feel, the scorned hookup. 

Worse yet, the scorned hookup who didn’t get the hint the first time. 

“No, no. You deserve the truth.” He sets his mug on the table, and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t use a coaster. “I’ll, um, tell you my side of the story. Just to be clear I’m not like, mad at you, or anything like that. I’m also not the type to fuck and go… even though it looks like that. And I’m not like, going to ghost you or anything. Unless you want me to do that. In that case,” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, lingering on the nape of his neck, “I’ll do that.”  

“Can you do something for me, y/n? Can you just–” Yoongi holds his hands out in front of him, and he clasps his hands between yours. He always knows exactly how to comfort you, even now. 

He sighs. “I wasn’t… expecting everything to happen like this. y/n, I… Just let me think about what to say for a second. But I promise, you’ll get the explanation you’re owed.” Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out. 

You sit like that for what seems like a long, stretched out moment, your hands clasped in Yoongi’s, his brow furrowed. 

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” You burst out. 

Yoongi clears his throat. “Okay, look. I have… a lot of… okay, I just, I wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing. And that morning in class, I rushed everything and after that I wasn’t sure how to approach you. Then when I saw you in the music building afterward, I just wanted to talk to you… to make sure you were okay. I saw you and I blanked. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to do without making it weird. That’s a shitty reason, but I blanked and didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” 

“So,” You blink, frustrated, confused, flushed hot with embarrassment and maybe a little bit of arousal, “Okay,” You say. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So… why did it happen? Why… why did we…” 

Your eyes sting, and you breathe deeply, as if you might run out of words. “Was it all in my head?” 

Yoongi’s clammy hands tighten around yours, as if he’s afraid you’ll leave. 

“No,” Yoongi exhales, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Your body is running hot and cold. It feels like something in the air has been punctured, all the tension, all the doubts, rushing away. Something new rushes in. 

“I spent all this time guessing and wondering and hoping. I ran myself ragged with all my thinking. It’s not your fault, mostly, but I’m so tired. Of guessing.” 

He smiles. Well, smirks, in that Yoongi fashion that makes it feel like the top of your head is spinning. “Stop thinking so much then.” 

“It was–” Yoongi’s voice breaks, rips in half. “It was a mistake,” Yoongi lies. You know he’s lying. You can tell from the way his eyes are looking everywhere on your face but your eyes. You can tell from the way that he wrings his hands, like he’s reading a pre-written apology from behind the camera. “I’m so, so confused about everything. This isn’t going the way I thought it would–not that–it’s just my words aren’t coming out like I thought they would. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.” 

Yoongi sighs, “I thought this would be easier.” And when you look at him again, you can see the pink on his cheeks. And how dilated his pupils are, and the decreasing proximity between his lips and your lips, because again Yoongi is still death-gripping your hands in his. If you could let yourself entertain the idea, he might be pulling you closer.  

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” You say. You lean away from him, hoping that the energy in the room will simmer down if you’re not centimeters away from falling into his arms. You need to hear him talk more, say everything, explain himself. You can’t leave this room without knowing more, you won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth and the full truth. You really don’t have the energy to wait more. 

“Well, even before everything–” And this is where Yoongi waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. He doesn’t elaborate, although you suppose “before the almost-handjob in class and the whole mouth-fucking each other on your couch” is a bit of a mouthful. 

“Even before everything– I knew you liked me. Like, you can’t even be surprised that I knew. Because you were really obvious. Like so obvious. But yeah. I knew, and I thought it was cute, and it was super flattering.” 

You open your mouth for a response, but you concede that he’s right. You flush ever hotter. 

Yoongi’s voice drops a little lower, like he’s telling you a secret, “And it was so fun to mess with you. Like, I could make this cute fucking girl blush and giggle and squirm and it was all because of me, how can I not be flattered? How can I not want to spend more time with you, push all your buttons? I figured you’d eventually do something about it. But you never did, no matter how much I pushed it with you. I wanted you to make the first move. But we started getting closer, and I thought maybe you were never going to do anything about it. Like we agreed to be friends, but on the inside we both liked each other? I didn’t want that to happen, but I was too scared to just go and ask you out. So I was getting frustrated. So that morning, I was just messing around with you again. I wanted to annoy you during class, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it. But you–I guess you were frustrated too, because you called me on my bluff. And then, you know, one thing leads to another and we’re somehow at my apartment, which I barely remember how we got there in one piece before–” Yoongi stops, breathless and something tender sparkling in his eyes. His hands aren’t gripping you like you might run away, just resting on the tops of your knees. Reminding you that he’s there. 

“And now, in the present, I’m just confused? Did I like you before or after we…” He trails off, bashful still, even now. “Or do I feel like this now because we were together? And does that even matter now, because I like you regardless?”

All the blood has rushed away from your chest. It feels like someone has knocked all the air from you but also as if a winch has tightened ever-so around your heart. 

“Let’s take it slow, if that’s something you want. Nobody…” You grapple for something to say, after that hell of a fucking lovesick speech, “Nobody said that you needed all the answers now. Don’t rush.” You take his hands back into yours. 

The weight of it all hits you slowly, in successive waves. You don’t have to filter anything out, never have to make yourself feel appropriate for him. When you practice with him, study with him, eat with him… all the quiet spaces and body-wracking laughter just feel like a perfect fit. Nothing out of place. There’s never a conversation topic or something to stray away from, other than circumventing the feelings you have for him. Even then, it’s not like Yoongi pretends like the attraction isn’t there. He doesn’t skirt around it, avoid it like taboo conversation. It really only serves to amplify your conversations, a red thread pulled taut underneath everything else. 

And now, you can give into that? You can show him how you really feel, and there’s just one less thing to hide? 

“You know, you’re not blameless. I was super stressed out at the time, and with the Bach Festival and midterms and everything I guess… you gave me the opportunity to lessen that a little, so. I know, I know. It’s a shitty excuse. But I wanted things with you and with the way that things converged, it seemed like–” 

“Serendipity?”  

“A bit like that, yes.” You tighten your hands around his, and he pulls you a little closer. You’re leaning over his lap now. 

You can’t choose whether to look into his eyes or at his lips. It looks like Yoongi has the same problem. He pulls you imperceptibly closer. 

“Can I kiss you? If that’s not rushing, of course.” 

“Yeah. Yes, please.” You soften yourself into his lap, Yoongi pulling you closer by the shoulders, sliding down to rest on your arms. You relish in the sensation, knowing it’s something that you can enjoy with a reassured heart now. 

He plants a closed kiss against your lips, and somehow that makes your heart flutter more than anything else he’s ever done before. The pads of his fingertips are soft and gentle against your arms, pulling you closer by the bicep. 

“I like you… I like you a lot…” Yoongi whispers against your lips, laughing at the confession. So sweet, so soft. 

“I like you too…” You whisper, kissing back. Slow, chaste, if a bit restrained. The realization hits you again, slowly, like an ocean wave washing over wet sand. 

Yoongi likes you back. Yoongi wants you back. You laugh at how absurd it sounds, even in your own head, nipping at his lip. “Say it again, Yoongi.” 

“I like you…” Yoongi sounds coy. 

You smile against him, “Say it again,” You gasp, pushing him back on the couch, gentle but firm, “I like you too, in case you didn’t know.” You can’t help but laugh. Not at the absurdity at the situation, but just out of happy shock. 

“y/n, I like you…” Yoongi chuckles, deep in his chest, looking up at you. His hair falls out of his eyes. 

“Do you know how happy it makes me, to hear you say that?” 

You’re honestly surprised that you don’t have whiplash. Whiplash from the weeks of tension and denial, feeling like you would never get this relief, but now you have a whole new set of problems. Dating Min Yoongi. 

~

This whole “taking it slow” thing is fucking bullshit. The past couple weeks have been one long sustained effort, some kind of marathon in testing the waters, drawing back and then pushing forward. 

Maybe you spoke too soon. You have to admit that the slow build, chaste romantic courtship is nice . 

The study dates are more than nice. The coffee shop dates feel almost luxurious, expensive in time in the same way that the actual coffee is cheap. 

Actually, all of this is a lot nicer than having to guess his every intention, the message between the lines. But you already know what it’s like to have Min Yoongi. 

In fact, things have been largely the same for the past couple weeks, except now you can feel the weight of his flirtatious jokes. You can now confidently say that Yoongi says what he means. The more time you spend with Yoongi, the more liberated you feel in letting yourself delight in the feeling of being allowed to show your feelings for him, and having them be duly reciprocated. 

After the confessional evening the both of you had, Yoongi had agreed to take it slow. In your lovesick state, you probably would have said yes to anything that Min Yoongi put on the table. Which is probably why you agreed to the whole courtship thing. 

“y/n… think about it like this! If we take our time then when the time finally comes… to… uh, you know, then it’ll be so much more gratifying. And I want to be with you more, like this,” Yoongi says, as you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his words. 

“Delayed gratification, have you ever heard of that?” Yoongi had said, smiling wider than you’d ever seen. 

“Although from my experience with you, I think you like instant gratification more,” He said, a touch darker. Your memory blurs now, because that was about the time he started tickling you relentlessly. And then kissing you relentlessly.  

And at the time, you had agreed. The delayed gratification would make everything better, make the world a little more rose-colored than before. 

You don’t want to push his boundaries, he doesn’t want to push yours, but now it’s begun nearly feels both of you are so afraid of each other that you haven’t touched each other in what seems like fucking forever–and it’s reached a boiling point, from what you can gather this evening. 

The newfound tension between the two of you is new, maybe a day or two at most, but annoying nonetheless. 

 “Y/n, how many times have I told you? Stop rushing. Do you need me to count your part out? One, two, three, four.” He punctuates every count with a clap in your face, and a sneer to boot. 

Yoongi has been especially volatile this evening. His normal jokes and jabs at you fall just short of endearing. Your initial approach at remedying the situation by focusing on the music at hand has only seemed to make things worse, and you’ve given in to your slowly-growing temper. 

“I am fucking counting, and I’m not the one playing fucking half notes, okay? How about you just focus on making the harmony, I don’t know, harmonious ?” You lower your violin, face screwing up in anger, only you don’t know how much of it is joking anymore. 

You don’t know how much longer you can take this kind of tension in the air. It feels angry and red and biting, but you can’t help it. The stale air-conditioned air in the practice room only seems to make your face warmer and warmer as time passes. 

All this tension, and no release. That’s what music is all about. The build-up of musical intensity, the expectation and anticipation for resolution. It’s like you’ve been stuck on the same chord of a cadence, waiting for a release that feels like it isn’t coming anytime soon. 

You take a deep breath, the frustration tightening in your chest. “From measure eighty-four, and take the fucking repeat this time. Let’s just move onto the next section after this, we’ll just come back to it later.” 

You fight the urge to huff and sigh, knowing it would only earn you a comment from Yoongi about being, as he had put it, ‘wound up.’ Yeah, no shit, you’re wound up. Wound up is putting it lightly. Just last week Yoongi had made a mess of you at his apartment, teasing you apart and then stopping just short of an orgasm. And he said the same thing last week too: delayed gratification. 

You try again, cueing him in with a sharp breath and the uptake of your bow. 

And again, and again, and again. 

“This isn’t working.” You set your violin on the soft lining of your case and rub your temples, resting your upper body on the body of the piano. You swipe the back of your hand across your face, breathing in the clean smell of the hand soap from Yoongi’s apartment bathroom, from when you were there a couple hours ago. Warm. Brown sugar. It feels like his embrace–if only you’d ever feel it again. 

God, why did you let him push all your buttons? All evening–ever since the two of you left his apartment to come to the practice rooms–he’s been acting like this. You know it has something to do with you, another game. But you don’t have the energy to divine his ulterior motive, whatever it is. You shut your eyes to provide some reprieve from the strain of staring at the same phrase that you have been stuck on for what has felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, this isn’t fucking working,” He says. It reminds you of the way he talked to you when you found him practicing in the early morning that one Tuesday. You only open your eyes when you hear him get up from his bench. 

Min Yoongi is standing too close to you. His eyes are on your lips and not your eyes. Even in the dim light of the practice room, you can see how dilated his pupils are. 

You meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, more breathless than he’d like to admit, “You’re provoking me. Why?” 

“Who said I was trying to do that? I think you,” You point a finger at his chest, looking into his eyes, “Are provoking me.” You try to sound as petulant as possible, and it works. 

Yoongi’s lips meet yours before you can even take your hands off of him. 

In the best sense of the word, you are cornered. Backed up against the piano, enclosed by his arms. He slips his hands up underneath the cotton of your sweatshirt, pulling you flush against him. His cool fingertips grazing the small of your back have you gasping against his soft lips. 

“Tell me, why are you provoking me?” 

“I, well-” You don’t continue with an excuse, because you’re finally getting what you want. What you both want. 

He presses on. “Gonna answer my question, or are you just gonna keep being a little brat?”  He wedges his thigh between your legs, closer to where you need him most. You stifle a moan, it’s too soon to be making those kinds of sounds, but you grind down on him anyway. “What?” He laughs, the sound sitting deep in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something?” 

You try to focus on the possessiveness in the way that he holds you by the waist, so you’re not thinking about how weak your knees are. 

He sighs, as if in disappointment. Only you’re not sure who it’s directed towards. 

“If I touch you right now, will you be wet?” He laughs. “I don’t even have to guess.” The ghost of his breath fans against your upper lip. “Is this what you want? Do you, do you, want to keep going?” Yoongi stops his ministrations. When you meet his eyes, both of you breathless, you can see the inquiring concern in his eyes again. 

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you say, trying, and failing, not to sound frantic, “Only if you’ll see it through to the end this time,” You bite. 

He laughs, devoid of mirth. “You say that like it’s not hard for me, either.” His hands trail down your torso to rest at the waist of your jeans. You don’t want to pseudo-argue with him anymore, so you just whine a little from the back of your throat, hoping he’ll get the point. 

You don’t want him to think that this isn’t what you want, because truth be told, it is exactly what you want. Your hands come to meet his when you reach to undo the button. 

“You know exactly what to do.” He laughs, lighter this time. He’s laughing like he’s not mad at you. He helps undo your jeans, pushing them and your panties just past your thighs. You gasp when he starts rubbing gentle circles on your clit. His fingers slip against your wet, slippery pussy. 

Yoongi is everywhere. He’s crowding your space against the wall, hand down your pants, the other holding your neck in place. It’s getting overwhelming with his beautiful hand rubbing little circles on your clit. So simple, and yet it feels like you’re breaking apart underneath him. It’s getting harder and harder to bite back the moans, stay in control. 

“You know, these rooms are soundproof. Let me hear you,” He murmurs, pulling you closer. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Yoongi shifts his attention from your wet cunt to the collar of your shirt. “What’s this? Getting busy without me?” Yoongi brushes his free hand over the circular dark mark coloring the crook of your jaw. You’re starting to get impatient with all this teasing, how much more can you take? 

“Haven’t you ever heard of a violin hickey?” You spit, grinding down on his hand, but it’s not enough. God, it really has been too long since he last touched you. He never stops the gentle advance he makes on your clit, never faster, never slower. Just barely enough. “We were just practicing, it gets darker when I play.” You try to explain yourself, as if that might make him show mercy later on. 

“You’re not in any position to talk back right now, don’t forget that.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking gently. “I’ll just help you add to your little collection.” Your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you. It’s been so long since anyone has held you so closely. 

Your desperation is beginning to show. With every movement of his hands, Yoongi starts to lessen his touch, your hips dogging his hand. You come to the realization that you’re not above begging to get what you want. He doesn’t even have to ask. 

He continues his gentle assault on your clit. “Do you know what these mirrors are for? They’re for checking your posture as you practice, but I guess this is just a different kind of practice.” He turns you around, your hips digging into the wood panelling of the piano. You’re confronted by your own fucked-out reflection, flushed and panting. You’re still mostly clothed, and yet you look debaucherous, like some ancient painting of a study into the nuances of female pleasure. “Look at you. All messy. And for what? I’ve barely touched you.” 

The frustration is too much, reaching a boiling point. “Please, I swear to God.” You bury your hands in your head, wiping away frustrated tears. Your legs are trembling now, now that Yoongi is only using one of his arms to brace you against him. 

“Please, what?” He digs his nails into the soft skin of your hip, and you can’t help but like it. He lowers his head so it’s level with your ear, sultry, low. “Use your words.” 

“Can’t you just, just-” Again, you buck your hips against his hand, as if that might make him get the point, only for him to nip at your inner thigh with his hand. 

“Don’t rush me, babe.” Babe. Min Yoongi is calling you babe. Is the universe playing some trick on you? 

He takes advantage of your position and leverages his knee on the inside of yours, spreading your legs further. “That’s it, just take it. Take it.” Finally, he takes pity on you and slips a finger inside. He earns an answering gasp. You can tell he means business, because he doesn’t take it slow, he doesn’t let you adjust, going directly at that spot inside of you that makes you keen for him. 

You struggle to stay upright, eyes rolling back. Your fingers scrabble along the dark wood of the piano, struggling to find purchase. 

“Fuck, Yoongi…” 

“So needy, look at you, so fucking needy...” He drives his point home further by adding a second finger. 

“I’m sooooo sorry… how can I ever make it up to you…?” Even despite the mind-bending pleasure and the prospect of Min Yoongi blowing your back out this evening, you roll your eyes. 

“What if someone hears?” Your point is lost when Yoongi changes the angle of his hand, and you break off into a ragged whimper. It’s loud enough to make you embarrassed to have made that sound in the presence of another person.  

“Oh, so you care about that now?” “What about that one time in class,” Yoongi all but pants in your ear, digging his nails into your thigh, “That you were being a desperate little cocktease?” 

You don’t answer, shame stoking the embers in your belly, driving lower and lower. You hate, and love, that he can make you feel like this with only some stern wording and a firm hand. Because it feels that good. Because you like him that much. 

“What then, hmm?” Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response however, before he’s yanking your jeans and panties further down your thighs. “Do me a favor. Touch yourself for me. Show me.” 

“Why?” 

“Wanna see you all messy for me,” Yoongi says, voice silky soft, liquid sex. He guides your hand down to your pussy, and god, you realize just how embarrassingly wet you are for such little foreplay. “Please?” He presses his chest flush to your back, leaning his forehead into the crook of your neck. 

You oblige him. You’re wet to the point where it’s difficult to find purchase against your clit. “Okay… but you have to forgive me.” 

“Forgive you for what?” 

“For being needy…” You say, sweetly. 

“Sure. I’ll forgive anything you do if you do this every time.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact. 

You giggle, like a lovesick idiot. At the very least, you’re glad that Yoongi can make you laugh even when you’re half-play-fighting, half-on-the-verge-of-having-sex-in-your-favorite-practice room. 

The vibrations of your laughter traveling through your body have you moving in new, novel ways against your own hand, and you break off into a moan. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He sounds genuine, and the tenderness of the moment isn’t lost to you, even despite your pleasure. At least now that you’re touching yourself, you don’t have to suffer the patient wrath of Yoongi and can touch yourself the way that you see fit. 

You feel his free hand nudge against the back of your thigh and when you look, he’s dragging the heel of his hand across his pants. 

Fuck. Fuck, you are so wrecked for Min Yoongi. 

“No, you too,” you say, “Show me too.” 

Yoongi moves away from you, pushing his waistband past his hips. He’s gripping his cock in one hand. He’s reaching for your waist again, his hand traveling up to grasp your throat. He jerks your head back. “Look, look at yourself.” 

The combined sensation of his hand on your neck and own hand on your pussy is too much. Your eyes water. “Yoongi,” You gasp, “I’m going to come.” 

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He wrenches your hand away, and the sudden lack of touch is almost cruel. 

You buck against him, his back to you. “Please, please let me come, I can’t–you can’t do this again, fuck,” Your desperation comes out in whines, all shame lost. 

“Be patient, come here.” He turns you around again, your back against the wood of the piano. And you’re looking into his eyes, dark and filled with something like lust. Min Yoongi wants you. You reach up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

Yoongi’s on your clit again, drawing light circles, testing the wetness before slipping a finger inside again. “I wanna hear you,” He says, adding another finger, more tenacity behind his strokes. He rocks his thumb against your clit. “I wasn’t asking.” 

Up until now you’ve been biting your lip, muffling your cries as best as you can. You look up at him again, drawing up your courage. You feel exposed–how can you not, half-naked in the practice room, when you’re not completely confident that the soundproof padding on the walls can contain the sounds of your rapture. 

“You-you fuck me so good Yoongi–” And you keen, just because he asked you to. 

He stops in his fucking tracks. Again. 

“Well. You fuck me so well. You can’t describe a verb with an adjective. God, I really shouldn’t let you come…” 

“Oh my God, are you really going to do this right now.” You bear down on his hand with your hips again, seeking more friction. “Please… please, I can’t wait anymore.” You can hardly finish your sentence, as Yoongi fucks into you with a particularly hard thrust. You’re finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, instead opting to rest your head on his shoulder. 

God, he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and the melting snow outside, warm and human and reassuring. 

You can feel his smile ghosting over your neck as he leans down to suck another mark into your collarbone. “Yes, yes, I am.” 

“I’m–I’m getting close again,” You say, fisting your hands in his shirt, “Just, ah–” It takes you by surprise, crashing over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to stay upright, pulling Yoongi against you. You can feel his satisfied smile, as he pants against the curve of your neck, hot and heady and everything you need. 

“Good?” He asks, after your breathing has calmed, even though you know that he knows that he’s done more than a good job. 

“Okay, okay, enough bragging,” You half-laugh, half-scoff, pulling your pants up past your hips again. 

“I wasn’t bragging,” He whines. It’s endearing, and you pepper his face with kisses before you get to business again. 

You sink to your knees before him, and his expression immediately softens. You try to bridge the gap between the two of you, placing the palm of your hand on his thigh. Asking for permission. 

“Are you sure?” He says, but the expression in his eyes saying something to the effect of “I really hope you’re sure.”  

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say, smiling as you tease the head of his cock with your parted lips. You replace his hand with yours. It’s barely any contact, really, but Yoongi closes his eyes in pleasure nonetheless, head tilted back. Normally, in any other situation like this, you’d be at least a little bit nervous. Or shy, hoping that Yoongi keeps his eyes closed so he’s not looking at you. But the absolute deprivation you’ve felt for the past couple weeks is enough for you to not care. 

You sink lower, in the wake of remembering how pent up and frustrated you’ve felt for the past couple weeks. You even, at least try to, bat your eyelashes at him. But like you guessed (or had hoped), his eyes are squeezed shut. You try not to delight in the sudden change of power too much, but it’s impossible not to. 

He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, groaning. “You’re so good to me.” You take him further in your mouth, eager to please. Eager to hear him make more of those sounds. Eager to take this further. 

You try your best to make it slick, flattening your tongue against him. You’re a little out of practice, after months of being alone, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. And if he does, he’s still enjoying himself. Thoroughly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” He gasps, in hushed whispers. 

“What a mouth on you…” Yoongi moves stray hairs out of your face, surprisingly tender given the lewdness of the situation. The sounds of your mouth fill the practice room, although hopefully not loud enough to expose your vulnerable position. You truly hope that the soundproof padding lining the walls works as advertised. 

“Ah–ah wait, I’m getting close, wait–ah, y/n, fuck,” He rasps. You don’t let up quite yet, letting him sit in that in-between space between ‘on the edge’ and ‘letting go’. His free hand makes a weak fist against his leg. 

Someone knocks on the door. Your first thought is that it may be security wrapping up rounds for the night. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you stand upright and zip up your jeans. The surge from adrenaline at the prospect of getting caught in the act makes your head pulse and spin. Your heart seems to have fallen from the left side of your chest all the way into the pit of your stomach. 

It’s hard to remember how aroused you were, not thirty seconds ago. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” For someone who was quite literally about to be balls-deep inside you, Yoongi tucks his dick back inside his pants with a surprising amount of tact and speed. 

Yoongi is fixing his hair in the practice mirror as you cross the room at the piano bench, pulling out your phone to make it look like the two of you were just dawdling or taking a practice break. 

Maybe twenty seconds have elapsed since the first knock at the door, which you reason might be a reasonable time for someone to stop practicing, and walk to the door to answer it. You hope it might seem reasonable. 

You can feel the pulse in your neck moving as Yoongi opens the door. You train your eyes on your phone screen, as if that might make you more nonchalant.  

“Hey, Yoongi-hyung.” The voice at the door is youthful, and energetic. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here this late. I was looking for you!” You finally muster up the courage to stop staring at your phone, your eyes venturing to the other side of the room. 

It’s… Jungkook?  

Jungkook, as in, the only bassoonist in the department, Jungkook? 

Jungkook must have had the same idea as you, because he looks over at you at the same time you do. 

His smile falters, albeit briefly. Whatever replaces it is something akin to a smirk. A knowing smirk. An accusatory smirk. A proud smirk. 

“Hyung, who’s that?”

[repo-net]

Something Much Needed

Piles, and piles of paper, filled with all sorts of illustrations and notes. Most of which had been scribbled out to the point where only I'd know that they actually had words behind them...

This kind of sight isn't unfamiliar to me, but even I have to admit that it gets sickening to look at and be reminded of so many horrid memories. I feel dizzy just smelling the ink the third pen I've had to use up in a single sitting... maybe I should ask Jataro if he has any pencils I could use.

Then again, the reason I don't use pencils is because it sprains my hand more than pens. Still, this scent is just dominating my desk and my senses, ugh.

What am I even thinking anymore? I'd promised to them that I'd provide them with a scope of locations in where we can start establishing our major bases once all the adults have been removed from the city, along with any facilities that could inspire "fun" to them.

... That said, I feel like an ice cream store is not only unhealthy, impractical, but also a bit of an impossibility... where are we even going to find the sources and means to constantly stock that up anyways? I'd much rather just spare the adult that works his stand and tell him he can live as long as he keeps those four pleased.

Things like bounce castles, house-sized pillow forts, ball pits, swimming pools, ... dress-up dorms? Whatever that is, I want no part of it. I could already imagine the amount of hours that'd get wasted off of my day just being left in there with her...

Still a lot of other things to consider too, aside from securing the happiness and morale of the team's future once everything is finally done. Once everything's finished, once every single demon's been wiped, surely all the nightmares about what I've had to witness for myself, surely all the repulsive thoughts of doubting my own comrades will be gone.

That's what we've been aiming for, after all. Surely that should finally give me closure and the satisfaction I yearn for.

A base with our robots ready to attack on sight of any intruder that defies us, or tries to disturb the peace... a place where no demon can even hope to touch us... a throne our princess can sit on, where I can admire her sugary smile for hours upon hours as she acknowledges all the work I've done and how I've lived up to her expectations...

Yes, that praise... it's not too far... from now...

Strange... I feel... hot... a fever, perhaps? No, I can't rest yet, I've still got work to do... No, no...

Her expectations... no, their expectations... they have hopes for me... like she hopes for us, like how I follow their hope, I want to live up to it... prove... myself...

My eyes are... shutting down... why do I feel so... ex... haus... te... d...

"I need... to..."

...

...

...

"... Naggy-sa! Hey, hey! It's no use, he's completely knocked out! Dummy really overworked himself. Again."

"Oh nooo... what do we do? His skin's really, really hot too! Our sage is super sick... it must've been because of me..."

"Hmmm. Well, he'd probably nag at us and tell us not to worry about him if we tried to help him while he's still awake... I see an opportunity! Hoho, I've got a totally awesome and adorbs idea! Monaaacaaa~!"

"Hey, where are you- gah, wait up! Oh, wait... uhhh... just gonna throw this on you. There you go! I'm such a good leader! Hey Kotoko, wait up!"

...

...

... What is this thing on my back... it feels soft... mmm... don't want to wake up... don't want to go back to work... just a few more hours, plea-

Huh?! Wait, what am I doing? Ack, I fell asleep! Damn it, damn it...! To be doing something so important and to doze off on the job like this... idiot, you idiot! You're useless, completely, utterly-

... Hang on, are those... cookies I smell? Chocolate chip, too... wait, why is my blanket on me in the first place? I don't remember having it on me.

These things on my desk... apple juice? With a note on it...

"Nagisa, you seemed super tired. I don't know if you really like apple juice, but I heard that apples are super healthy and stuff. Being an apple must be really weird, people want to eat you because they like you, people want to kill you because they think you're good. It's super weird.

Anyways, you can have mine. And stop working so much, you don't have to keep pushing it. Unless you wanna end up as ugly as me, ehehehe.

- Person You Hate"

... Jataro, you know I could never hate you. But...

I look to the other side of my desk. A plate of chocolate chip cookies. Some of them with more particular designs than others, one looking like a soccer ball and another one having pink horns on them... is that supposed to be icing or something? I picked up the plate to bring it closer to me, but underneath it was another note.

"Hi hi, our wonderful vice leader and sage! Monaca noticed that you've been working so, so hard. Monaca's been keeping a super close eye on you, and she noticed that Nagisa's been working super duper hard lately. And it's starting to worry Monaca out.

So the idea of baking cookies to keep you motivated and relaxed came to my attention! Masaru and Kotoko in particular wanted to insert themselves into this for their own reasons, so I agreed and let them help with some of the designs. Jataro seemed like he wanted to help too, but he might have ruined the taste and the look with his grossness.

Monaca knows just how much you love her cookies, that stoic face of yours always just seems to break character whenever you get offered them. And you rant all the time about how bad sugar is for us, but then you seem to always be the one so eager to eat them as soon as they're fresh out of the oven! It's quite adorable.

Keep up the good work! I'm sure someone as talented as Nagisa could never ever disappoint us. I'm looking forward to the day Monaca's paradise is completed.

- Monaca"

This is...

She knew that I've been working myself this much...? I thought of you to be an unmatched genius, but my feelings for someone who notices... someone who acknowledges me... someone who understands me... someone I just...

Someone I just feel like cares about me, and not just the guinea pig working for everyone...

Monaca Towa... you truly are an angel...

Yes, yes... as long as you're around, I can accomplish anything. I can let go of everything just for you. Your wish is my command. And if your wish to eliminate every single adult off of the face of this world, then I'll take control.

For you, and for them too, who care about me... yes, I can do anything.

Thank you, everyone. I'll do my best.

I'll make sure this world has a happy place for all of us.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter VII

At the Alstor Coernix Station, (Y/n) was inside the convenience store perusing the many items they had for sale. Ignis has entrusted her with enough gil to buy them some curatives. Their supply was low and needed to be restocked. Glancing out the window of the convenience store, she saw Ignis putting gas in the Regalia while Noctis was chatting on the phone. Prompto and Gladio were eavesdropping on the phone call.

Looking back to the items in stock, she searched the shelves for Ignis' favorite canned coffee-ebony. What caught her attention was a small sign taped to one of the shelves.

*****

Due to road closures, we are SOLD OUT of Ebony Coffee for the foreseeable future.

*****

"Uh-oh..." she mumbled.

"What's "uh-oh"?" Noctis asked as he overheard her when entering the store with Gladio and Prompto in tow. She stepped aside and allowed him to read the sign for himself. His eyes widen and nearly popped out of his head as he read the small piece of paper. "Oh, crap. They're out."

Gladio shook his head in disapproval. "Can't let him see this."

"He'd be crushed." The prince glanced outside to see Ignis finished filling the gas tank and was heading their way. "Shit, he's coming this way."

"What do we do?" Prompto asked panically.

"Nothing," (Y/n) replied. "Iggy will be fine without his ebony for a few days."

"Weren't you the one who said, "uh-oh"?" Noctis asked.

"I was, but it's not the end of the world."

"For you it might not be, but for us..."

"Mama Iggy gets cranky when he hasn't had his ebony," Prompto added. "And he gets really irritated in battle if we don't listen to him."

She crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure he gets irritated not because of the lack of ebony but the lack of listening you three do in battle."

"Damn, no need to call us out like that," Gladio chuckled.

"Still, Specs isn't gonna like being out of ebony." Noctis looked at the (h/c)-haired girl. "You tell him the bad news, (Y/n). The rest of us will try to get a running start to avoid him. And if you survive, we'll come back for you."

She sighed. "Iggy's not gonna lose his mind and go on a rampage because they're out of ebony! And why do I have to tell him?!"

"He is waaay nicer to you than the rest of us," Prompto responded. "If it comes from you, it'll cushion the blow! You make him...gentle."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen, Iggy's got a soft spot for ya," Gladio told the petite girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We all can see the way he looks at you, but it looks like you're the only one who can't see it. Sorry to say this, but you're a little dense, sweetheart."

(Y/n)'s eyes narrowed in an icy glare. Her jaw tensed as her slitted eyes focused on the shield. She clenched her fists tightly by her side as her gaze bore into his amber eyes. She watched in anger and satisfaction as Gladio released her shoulder and stepped away from her out of fear. He swallowed in fright when feeling a chill creep through his body. He held up his hands in defeat. "Now hold on a sec, (Y/n)..."

Prompto and Noctis rubbed at their exposed arms, fighting off the chill in the air. They stepped away from (Y/n), their teeth chattering slightly. The two best friends exchanged glances before looking back at the angered guardian. They were too frightened to say anything and kept their mouths shut. Without saying a word, she walked out of the convenience store.

Ignis, who had just entered the store, saw her furious expression and looked towards his friends. "It seems one of you has infuriated (Y/n)."

Noctis and Prompto jabbed their fingers in Gladio's direction and said, "He did it," in unison.

"Shit..." The brute mumbled, eyes focused on the girl who was now outside. "Thought she was gonna tear me into tiny pieces."

"Dude, you called her dense. Don't you think it was a little rude and insensitive?" Prompto asked. "I mean, I would be pissed off too."

"What could possibly insinuate her to be "dense," Gladio?" Ignis pried.

"Oh, please," the brute scoffed. "Don't tell me you're unaware of how differently you treat her from the rest of us? Or the way you look at her? That'd make you dense too, Iggy. Probably even more than her. Do you realize how often I've caught you staring at her when she isn't looking in the last two days?"

Ignis didn't know how to respond. He was aware of his own infatuation with (Y/n), but he never realized how often his gaze would drift in her direction. He must've been doing it more than he noticed in the past two days.

"What? You've got nothing to say?" Gladio retorted after seeing Ignis fell silent.

"Is there a response you're wishing to hear?" Ignis replied.

"Just tryna see if our straight-laced tactician really does have a heart and actually can fall for a woman."

The bespectacled man pinched the bridge of his nose. He decided not to entertain Gladio any longer and left the convenience store. Outside, he found (Y/n) near the Crow's Nest, her attention focused on a wanted poster of a behemoth that was causing trouble in the Nebulawood. The reward was large and tempting for any hunter that was eager to test their strength and earn a pretty gil.

Ignis joined her and analyzed the poster. "Tis a feat fit for royalty."

"Aren't you the one who said to keep the trouble to a minimum?" She asked. "I'm pretty sure a behemoth is a large serving of trouble."

"The large sum of gil is not tempting enough?" He asked.

"I'd rather not be skewered by a behemoth even for a large amount of gil."

"A shame, truly."

She snorted with laughter. "Since when are you the reckless one?"

"I am the most cautious of us all," he remarked. "Regardless, we are in dire need of funds and such a tremendous feat would fill our purses."

"You really think the five of us could take down a behemoth?"

"I believe with our combined skills the beast would still be a formidable foe but one we could eliminate."

(Y/n) looked back at the wanted poster. "You certainly have confidence in our skills, Iggy. Maybe too much..."

"Or perhaps you lack the confidence in our combined strength as a group," Ignis stated, peeking at her from his peripheral vision.

She placed a hand over her chest. "Ouch... That one hurt." She then smiled. "I actually believe we could handle anything that comes our way if we stick together, but even a behemoth could cause issues. And it's not like I'm some large, mighty spirit that could match the size of such an immense beast."

""And though she be but little, she is fierce,"" the advisor quoted. "Such a quote describes your spiritual form well."

"Tiny but mighty, huh...?" She looked back at the image of the behemoth. "Still, we might be biting off more than we can chew with such a large target."

"As per words provided by Noct: only one way to find out."

She laughed. "Yes. His carefree nature truly does suit him well. Let's just hope his carelessness doesn't get him or anyone else killed..."

"Which is why we are accompanying him-to prevent such calamity."

Just then, the two heard a familiar 'click'. When they turned around, they saw Prompto with his camera aimed at them. He lowered the device and smiled innocently with slightly red cheeks. "Just takin' some sweet pics. Don't mind me!"

"Are we ready to depart?" Ignis asked.

"Yep! We're going to the chocobo outpost first, right?" He remarked with eyes glistening in excitement.

"It's up to Noct."

"What's at the chocobo outpost for us to do?" (Y/n) wondered.

"Chocobos!" Prompto squealed. "What else?"

"Don't we have royal arms to find?"

"Well, yeah, but this'll be a quick detour! Once we've ridden the chocobos, we can go back to searching for the tombs. And, of course, see Iris in Lestallum."

The girl sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear she's safe."

"Me too. Guess we forgot to mention the phone call to you." Prompto lowered his camera. "Now then, let's go!"

Ignis and (Y/n) exchanged glances before returning to the Regalia. The three other boys were already in the backseat, waiting for them. The girl climbed into the passenger's seat and peered over middle console at the blonde in the backseat. "Maybe I should sit in the middle seat, Prompto."

"And let you be squished by these two?" He pointed to Gladio and Noctis. "No way!"

The shield wrapped an arm around Prompto's neck and used his other hand to drive his knuckles into the top of the boy's head. "You sure 'bout that, pipsqueak?"

Prompto struggled against the brute. "H-Hey, you're messing up my hair!"

Ignis started the car and pulled out of the Alstor Coernix Station. At Noctis' command, he drove in the opposite direction of Lestallum and headed to Wiz Chocobo Post. Prompto was able to break free from Gladio and giddily bounced up and down in the backseat. His excitement only escalated as the distance between them and the chocobo outpost shrunk.

The moment Ignis pulled the Regalia into Wiz Chocobo Post, Prompto climbed over Noctis. His excitement caused him to move faster, but he tripped on his own feet as he climbed out of the car. He quickly recovered and ran over to the empty pens.

Noctis readjusted his jacket from where he was trampled by Prompto before exiting the vehicle. Gladio closed the door behind him as did Ignis and (Y/n). She leaned against the car and looked around the outpost. "For a place with chocobos, it's eerily quiet."

"Think this side trip was for nothing?" Gladio asked.

"Best we find the owner of the establishment before drawing any conclusions," Ignis said.

(Y/n) wandered around the chocobo outpost while the boys spoke with the owner, Wiz. She browsed through what the store was offering before departing with a smile. She continued walking around until she was stopped by a large chocobo chick. It pecked at the heels of her shoes before rubbing its feathery body against her legs. Her brows furrowed in confusion as to why it was acting somewhat like a cat. Squatting down, she hugged her knees and poked the top of the chick's head. It 'kwehed' in response, fluffing out its feathers.

Smiling, she petted the top of its head. She had only seen pictures of chocobos and was flabbergasted at the size of the chicks. "You are one big chick, but adorable. And your feathers are soft." The chocobo chick bumped its plump body against her legs and caused her to lose her balance. She fell on her hindquarters and blinked in surprise when the chocobo chick hopped onto her lap. It flapped its tiny wings with another 'kweh' before nuzzling its head against her stomach. "Guess I have to add friendly and cuddly to the list."

While petting the chocobo chick that was curled up in her lap, she spotted movement from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw three more chicks heading straight for her. Their chubby bodies bounced as they trotted towards her. Even a few loose feathers were knocked free and sent spiraling in the faint breeze that blew through the outpost.

The three chicks reached (Y/n) and tried to join their sibling. However, there was only enough room for one chocobo in her lap. The other three opted to snuggle their bodies against her sides and back before taking a nap. The girl sighed through her nose when seeing the predicament she was in. "What do I do now...?"

"Oh. Em. Gee!" A voice squealed. The spirit looked up and saw Prompto with his camera aimed at her. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis were standing behind the blonde as he took pictures of her. "The chocobos love you, (Y/n)!"

"Where did these guys come from?" Noctis asked the spirit.

"They came out of nowhere and ambushed me," she said, continuing to pet the chocobo chick in her lap. "As you can see, I didn't stand a chance."

Not even a minute later, a woman with a yellow apron ran over. "I'm so sorry about this, miss! The babies escaped their pen. I hope they didn't cause you any trouble."

(Y/n) offered the stablehand a kind smile. "They were no trouble. They're quite friendly."

"They really are," she giggled. "This hasn't been the first time they've escaped. I've tried to come up with ways to stop them, but they're amazing escape artists."

The guardian managed to lift the chubby chick out of her lap so she could stand up. The three other chocobos that were snuggled up against her plopped against the ground when she was back on her feet. The stablehand rounded up the four chicks and escorted them back to their pen. (Y/n) brushed the dirt off her dress and tights before asking, "Did you learn why most of the pens are empty?"

Ignis stepped forward. "Remember our early discussion of the behemoth?"

She froze, eyes widening. "Don't tell me...?"

"It's a beast known to the locals as Deadeye. If we desire to use the chocobos, the behemoth must be dealt with."

Her sapphire eyes drifted over to Noctis. "Let me guess, you took the hunt."

"Yeah. Is...that a problem?" The prince questioned.

"Not at all. Just try not to get you or anyone else killed."

Noctis' opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. "Wha-? I..."

"You are audacious in battle, Noct," Ignis stated. "Which, mind you, has resulted in the injury of others."

"I am not that reckless," Noctis tried to defend himself.

"Sorry, buddy, but I've gotta side with Iggy and (Y/n) on this one," Prompto said. "You kinda are reckless in battle."

"So are you, blondie," Gladio remarked. "The only ones here who aren't reckless are myself, Iggy, and (Y/n). You two would be skewered meat if it weren't for the three of us watchin' your backs. Maybe you kids should leave the beast slaying to the grown-ups and stay here to play with the birds."

"We aren't kids!" Prompto screeched.

Noctis nodded. "Yeah!"

"Then prove it," Gladio shoves past the two younger boys. "Let's go take down a behemoth."

Noctis and Prompto dashed off with Gladio following close behind. (Y/n) clasped her hands together in front of her as she watched the three take off. "Gladio sure does love to egg those two on."

"Speaking of eggs, I do believe a scavenge for ingredients is in order once we've dealt with the behemoth," Ignis said.

The girl glanced at him in disbelief before laughing. "You would think about ingredients at a time like this. I'll see what I can do once we get back. We better catch up with the others. They won't be able to take down Deadeye without us."

"Yes, let's. Our assistance is always invaluable."

Ignis and (Y/n) left the chocobo outpost and caught up with Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio. They hadn't made it far down the dirt trail located just on the outskirts of the chocobo ranch when they regrouped with the other boys. They skirted around the Nebulawood in search of the entrance, but froze when the sound of snapping trees came from within the stone walls. The ground shook slightly with each tree that fell. It was like a domino effect where one tree would fall and then it would immediately be followed by another.

(Y/n) was pulling up the rear of the group when she suddenly heard the voice that had been haunting her ever since they left Insomnia. Stopping, she looked up at the sky and listened closely to the disembodied voice.

Vessel... Costlemark...

Her eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "Costlemark...?"

Ancient... Worship...

"I don't understand," she whispered. Her attention was drawn away from the voice when the sound of a threatening growl emitted from the Nebulawood. When it faded, she looked back up at the sky in hopes the voice would speak to her again, but it was silent. She promptly caught up with the boys just as they managed to locate the entrance to the Nebulawood.

Before they took another step forward, (Y/n) questioned the boys. "So this is Deadeye's prowling grounds?"

"That's what Wiz said," Noctis replied. "Why? You worried?"

"Not at all. Just do be careful. We don't need a dead prince on our hands."

"Hey, this'll be a walk in the park for us."

She sighed. "You say that now..."

"Wait 'til we actually face the beast before drawing any conclusions," Gladio finished the girl's thought. "Just try not to be an idiot and get your ass handed to you. We can't always be there to save you from all the trouble you put yourself in."

"Okay, I get it," Noctis groaned. "I'm reckless. Damn, you guys never learn how to drop anything..."

"We're simply here to watch your back, Noct," Ignis stated.

"Not to babysit you," Gladio added.

The prince threw his head back with another dramatic groan. He wanted to drop the subject and did so by ignoring his companions and entering the Nebulawood whether they were with him or not. Once a little ways into the rocky, windy structure of Deadeye's prowling grounds, he slowed his pace as he followed the path forward. They were surrounded by downed trees, possibly the ones they heard snapping earlier. From the damage done to the trees, it appeared something large had struck them down.

(Y/n) approached one of the fallen trees, her nose scrunching up when receiving a whiff of something that smelt awful. Gladio noticed her slightly disgusted expression. "What's up, munchkin?"

Ignoring the nickname, she responded with, "I've never encountered a behemoth before, but beasts and daemons all have distinctive odors. From the scent, I'm going to assume Deadeye caused all this damage."

"Behemoths have been known to stroke their bodies against trees and other structures to mark their territory, leaving their natural musk as a warning to other creatures," Ignis informed the group.

"Oh, nice to know," Prompto mumbled.

"Behemoths are territorial beasts. If we're not careful, none of us are coming out of this unscathed. We need to be extra careful in this area, especially since Deadeye has marked his territory," (Y/n) said.

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess this isn't gonna be a walk in the park..."

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The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

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“We can’t stay here.” 

 “No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.” 

 “So we go to Leoch with Fergus?” 

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.” 

 “Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…” 

 “What is it Sassenach?” 

 “I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.” 

 “A pardon?” He was shocked. 

 “Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.” 

 A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.” 

 “But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.” 

 “Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

 “What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

 “Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.” 

 “And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

 “Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.” 

 “Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

 “I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?” 

 Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.” 

 The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room. 

 “Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?” 

 “He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?” 

 “No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.” 

 “Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature. 

 Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply. 

 “A christening gift.” 

 Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son. 

 “How Claire?” Ian piped up. 

 “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

 “Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated. 

 “It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.” 

 “Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?” 

 “No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

 Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it. 

 “Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.” 

 “I have some idea.” 

 Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again. 

 “Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.” 

 “I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug. 

 “Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”  

 A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt. 

 “Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.” 

 Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

 “If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.” 

 “Aye, we’ll go.”

 He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare. 

 “Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him. 

 “Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.” 

 Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife. 

 “Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.” 

 They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below. 

 “I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.” 

 “How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

 She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders 

 “Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

 Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty. 

 “I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?” 

 “Aye.” 

 “Do you want to punch it too?” 

 “No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.” 

 She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift.  Baby Fraser.  Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble  a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

 Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.” 

 Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth. 

 “Your family is with you always, my darling girl.” 

 With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle. 

 Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch. 

 It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been. 

 Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

 The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins,  Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe. 

 In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes. 

 At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the  Serendipity  and waited. 

 Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.