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totowlff · 1 year

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chapter eight — as if i could ever keep a promise

➝ we don't always get what we want.

➝ word count: 3,9k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s notes: i apologize for the delay in bringing you a new chapter. these last few weeks have been a little complicated for me, as they culminated in me being fired from work. i'm not upset, as it was a job i wasn't a huge fan of, but coming full circle is always hard. i hope you enjoy this chapter and would love to hear your feedback.

Two agonizing, painfully slow weeks after Cassie’s embryo transfer, she was at her desk at work, trying to get something — anything — done, but her eyes kept sliding over to the clock in the corner of her computer, counting down the minutes until 3pm.

She was leaving work early today to go to the fertility clinic to find out the results of a blood test she’d provided a sample for earlier that morning, on her way into the office.

Cassie was nervous, but excited. The possibility that the cycle would not take had briefly occurred to her, but there were so many more reasons to believe that she was pregnant. The embryologist had confirmed that both her and Toto’s samples were of excellent quality. Both of them were in perfect health. She’d read the statistics and the failure rates, but even those numbers weren’t enough to dash her optimism.

The only thing that weighed on her at the moment was that Toto was not in the country at the moment. He was in China for a Grand Prix, and would be in Bahrain next weekend, and would not be returning to the UK between the two races. Toto had told her to call and give him the results as soon as she found out, but she didn’t really want to tell him that he’d be a father over the phone.

Instead, Cassie was going to tell him in person when he got home the next weekend. She planned to surprise him with a gift that she’d ordered online the day after her embryo transfer that had recently arrived.

It was an infant onesie with a gray-and-teal F1 car on the front, and text underneath the car that said “Future Mercedes Driver”. It certainly wasn’t produced by the team, and she knew she should probably forward it to the legal team so they could issue a cease and desist, but she bought it anyway.

“It’s perfect,” she thought, when it arrived in her post a few days later. She put it in a gift box with teal tissue paper and tied it with an elegant bow with teal ribbon.

As soon as 3pm came around, Cassie was out of the building like a shot. She barely noticed the scenery passing as she made the half-hour drive from Brackley to Oxford on the M40.

By the time she was in the waiting room of the fertility clinic, she felt like she was about to jump out of her own skin from the nerves.

When the receptionist called her name, Cassie bolted to her feet. She sat in the exam room, her leg bouncing incessantly as she waited. After a few minutes, Dr. Hodges, the clinic’s fertility specialist, came in with a laptop in hand.

— Good afternoon, Miss Aldersey. How are you today? — she said, taking a seat in the stool across from Cassie. She had a polite smile on her face. Cassie watched as she opened the laptop and logged in.

— Hello. I’m… Good, but a bit nervous.

— Understandable — the doctor said — So, let’s just take a look at the results of your bloodwork and then we’ll discuss your next steps. Does that sound okay?

— Yes — Cassie said.

Dr. Hodges took a moment to look at the chart on the computer, and turned the screen toward Cassie.

— Unfortunately, it looks like this round didn’t take. See — she said, pointing to a line on the lab results — You tested negative for any presence of beta hGC, which is a hormone that your body starts producing when a fertilized egg implants. We start seeing it on blood tests around eleven days after conception, which is why you wait two weeks from the date of your transfer. Now, there is a chance this is a false negative, and we can re-test again in a week if you’d like, but…

Cassie felt strange all of a sudden, not really paying attention after she heard the words “didn’t take”. Or maybe it was that everything sounded muffled and distant. She felt like the blood had drained completely from her body, and like a giant pit had opened in her stomach.

— S-so, I’m n-not pregnant? — Cassie stammered.

— No, unfortunately not this time — Dr. Hodges said, giving Cassie a sympathetic glance — But, it’s not unusual for the first round to fail, it happens more often than not.

— I… I just thought… I… The embryologist said the samples were both good, and that we are both healthy, and…

— I know, I’m sorry. This is my least favorite part of this job, but, don’t worry, Miss Aldersey. It will happen, and it will all be worth it once you get there.

— I… Yeah — Cassie said, trying to get her bearings again. She glanced briefly around the exam room, looking at the posters on the wall. Most of them were colorful medical diagrams, one with the stages of embryonic development, one with a cross-section of a womb with a baby inside. Seeing the posters in that moment sort of stung, because it was not what her body would look like. Not now, at least — So, um… What now? How… I guess, what do I do now?

— Well, the first step is to stop taking your progesterone — Dr. Hodges said — It will induce a menstrual cycle, and then we wait four to six weeks before performing another embryo transfer. You have quite a few fertilized eggs, so we don’t have to have you go through the full stimulation cycle.

— We can’t… We can’t try again right away? — Cassie asked. She was starting to feel stressed now, she could feel her pulse pounding against her chest.

— Well — Dr. Hodges said — No. It’s possible, medically, but all of the hormones used for the ovarian stimulation are fairly intense, and can cause some inflammation, or ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome, which isn’t pleasant. The standard protocol is to let your body take a break from the hormones for at least one cycle. Plus, in my experience, it lets you take an emotional break, as well. IVF is stressful and tiring, and so much stress is going to do more harm than good.

— I… I guess that makes sense — Cassie said.

— If you want, I can schedule you an exam, just a blood test and an ultrasound, once you’ve had your next period — Dr. Hodges said, trying to sound cheerful, doubtlessly for Cassie’s benefit — That way, we can check to make sure everything looks good before we proceed with a second transfer.

— I — Cassie hesitated. She’d budgeted the costs of the treatment carefully, but Toto joining her on the venture added some extra fees she hadn’t been considering; the costs of his exams and the fees to the solicitor. She knew Toto would gladly pay for his share if she asked. Hell, he’d probably pay for the entire process without prompting, but Cassie didn’t want to ask that of him. This was something she wanted, and she didn’t want anyone else to have to foot the bill for her dreams. However, she had a feeling that the money from her grandmother’s estate that she’d set aside was gone now — I will have to think about it. I also want to… You know… Talk to, um…

— Oh, yes, of course, you’ll be wanting to discuss things with Mr. Wolff. Well — Dr. Hodges said, closing her laptop — Go ahead and schedule an appointment after your period, if you’d like, and we can proceed from there.

The doctor extended her hand to shake Cassie’s before she opened the door and left.

Cassie sat in the empty, quiet exam room for a moment. She felt like she was going through some sort of strange, accelerated grieving process, with her emotions changing every few seconds as her thoughts raced. She took a few deep breaths to try to calm herself down before she left. She feebly waved goodbye to the receptionist as she walked out.

Cassie needed to stop for a few groceries on her way home to her flat. She felt numb during the entire drive, like she was simply repeating an automated process, a route she’d gone so many times now, from the clinic, to the Sainsburys by her flat, to her flat. As she parked her car, she thought about calling Toto, but she realized, when she pulled her phone out of her purse and unlocked the screen, that it would be well past midnight in Shanghai by then. Toto would — or should, rather, be asleep. She couldn’t bring herself to bother him at this time of night.

She sighed heavily and put her phone back in her bag.

As Cassie walked around Sainsbury’s, she felt like there was a massive weight on her shoulders, and like her shoes had been replaced with paving stones. She trudged aisle to aisle, barely paying attention to the things she was putting in her trolley.

She kept catching sight of mothers and fathers with small children in their trolleys or holding their hands, which compounded her sadness. It wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary in the shop that day, but the lack of possibility of her having children now made her see them everywhere.

The universe saw fit to rub extra salt in her wounds, though, as she was absentmindedly looking at jars of jam, trying to decide which one she wanted. She’d just picked up a jar of apricot marmalade when she felt a tug on the leg of her trousers.

She turned around to see a small girl brandishing a box of Weetos cereal at her.

— Mummy, I want this one… Oh, sorry — she said, when Cassie turned around to reveal that she was, not, in fact, the girl’s mother. A woman came scrambling up behind Cassie, grabbing one of the girl’s hands.

— Right here, sweetheart. Sorry about that — she said, nodding her head at Cassie and leading the child away toward her own trolley.

They were gone before Cassie could even say anything.

She stood, anchored to the floor, between the jams and breads, her shoulders starting to shake from the effort of trying to not cry. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths to try to calm herself down. When she felt like she could move again, she went to the beer & wine section and grabbed three bottles of the first sauvignon blanc she laid eyes on without a second thought.

Cassie managed to avoid crying on the rest of her drive home, but as soon as she was in her apartment, there was no reason to hold back any longer. She haphazardly jammed things in the refrigerator and freezer as tears streaked down her face.

She uncorked a bottle of wine and took a swig, not even bothering to pour it into a glass, which she realized would probably make her mother faint. All the less reason to care, she thought, as she sat down on her sofa. She wailed into one of her throw pillows. It was the kind of full-body wracking sobs that toddlers did, too.

Cassie knew she was quite the sight with her hair disheveled, her mascara and eyeliner making tracks down her cheeks, drinking directly from a cheap bottle of wine, but she didn’t care. It had been a while since she’d had both a good cry and anything to drink, so she felt entitled to both.

It was a cycle — she would calm down, but she would remember the way her doctor looked at her, or the word “negative” on the line for bHCG on her chart, or she would imagine telling Toto that she wasn’t pregnant, and she would start crying all over again.

Eventually, she cried herself to sleep, just like a toddler would.

Cassie woke up on her sofa hours later, sweaty and disoriented. The lights in her flat were still on, she was still wearing her clothes from work that day. She even still had one shoe on. Her television was on, displaying the Netflix “Are you still there?” message, and there was an empty wine bottle and a bag of open chocolate candies spilling out on her coffee table.

She got up and turned her lights and television off. She stripped her clothes off and flung them into a haphazard pile in the corner of her bedroom, not even bothering to put on pajamas before she plugged her phone into the charger on her nightstand and went back to sleep.

Cassie hadn’t set an alarm, but a buzzing noise woke her up the next morning at around 8h30. She pawed at her table, hand searching for the device before she picked it up and squinted at the screen. Her heart sank when she saw Toto’s name. It was about 16h30 in Shanghai, so qualifying had likely just finished.

She wanted to talk to him, but she didn’t know what to say. He was doubtlessly calling to find out how Cassie’s blood tests went, to find out if they were going to be parents. He was as excited as she was, which meant he was going to be as devastated as she was, too. It would be cruel to disappoint him so much now, when he was halfway around the world, with races to focus on.

Cassie set her phone back down and let it ring until it stopped.

She would figure out how to break the news later.

Toto had left her a voicemail, which Cassie listened to when she had woken up a bit more.

— Hi Cassie — he said. His voice sounded soft and gentle, even happy — I know it’s only about 8 in the morning in Oxford, so you might not be awake yet, but I was just calling to say hello and to see how things went at the doctor yesterday. We just finished up qualifying, I don’t know if you were up and watching. Lewis got pole, and Valtteri got P3, so that’s good. Anyway, I’m going to go get dinner with Niki here shortly. Give me a call later when you’re awake, okay? Talk to you soon.

Fifteen minutes later, he tried calling again.

Cassie answered this time, but couldn’t think of what to say. Even “hello” wouldn’t come out of her mouth, for some reason.

— Hello? Cassie? Are you there? — she heard him say, before she panicked, and hung up.

She started crying again. It was all too much.

Cassie watched the race the next morning after a night of poor sleep. She’d been up for hours, thinking about all the plans she’d already made for the child she and Toto wouldn’t be having.

During the race, she poured over her finances, her heart sinking when she realized that the addition of Toto’s tests and procedures, and the solicitor’s fees for their known donor agreement, had eaten the entirety of what she’d budgeted from her share of her grandmother’s estate, and then some. Her doctor had brought up the possibility of trying again, but there’d be no way to do that now. The process had gone hundreds of pounds over what she’d already set aside, and she couldn’t live with the thought of asking anyone else — not even Toto — to cover the costs of another round.

Not even watching Lewis claim victory in the Chinese Grand Prix, or Mercedes move ahead in the constructor’s standings over Ferrari, could lift her spirits.

By the time she went back to work on Monday, Cassie felt numb. She wasn’t sleeping well. She barely had an appetite. She’d consumed more wine than anything else over that weekend, and was dealing with a persistent hangover as a result. She continued to ignore Toto’s phone calls and messages. She still didn’t know how to tell him.

Tuesday was worse.

Stopping the progesterone brought on an intense, monstrous period, the likes of which she hadn’t had in years.

Cassie’s head was pounding. Her mood was worse than before, which she would have thought was impressive if she didn’t feel so awful. On the upside, she had an appetite again, but it was insatiable, making her feel worse with the arrival of bloating that made it impossible to put her pants on. A patch of fresh acne on her jawline was the cherry on top, but the worst was when the bleeding actually started. Before, the slim possibility of a false negative was something she was hanging onto, a small ray of light in the darkness.

But now, she had the final confirmation: she wasn’t pregnant.

She called in sick on Wednesday and stayed in bed, both from the pain of the more-intense cramping and from the feeling like she was drowning.

By that point, Toto had called at least once per day, and sent several WhatsApp messages. She’d read them, and she’d typed a few responses, but couldn’t actually gather the courage to press “send” on any of them.

She didn’t listen to every voicemail he’d left, but the one she did listen to crushed her.

— Cassie, please, I don’t know what’s wrong, or what I did, but please let me know you’re okay — he said — I’m in Sakhir now, and it’s only three hours ahead, so, please, give me a call and let me know what’s going on. I’m worried about you, I haven’t heard from you in almost a week and… I just don’t know what’s going on. I lo… I miss… Okay. Give me a call. Please. Goodbye.

By the time Friday came — a week since Cassie found out that she wasn’t pregnant, she’d at least stopped crying out of the blue. It was like she physically wasn’t able to any longer. She felt as empty and hollow as her womb was.

She still felt horrid about never responding to Toto, and kept making excuses for herself.

“This is something he needs to hear in person”, she thought. “I’ve acted so awful this week he probably doesn’t want to have a child with me any more anyway.”

Still, though, she missed him terribly. She would pay any price for him to be back in Oxford with her, because surely, he would be able to take away the deep, constant pain she’d been feeling for a week now. She felt like she’d failed herself, and her own ambitions, but she’d let Toto down as well.

Somewhere, in the more rational side of her brain, Cassie knew that it was a possibility that the first round wouldn’t work, but she thought it was because of cases where couples had to utilize IVF because of other factors that drove infertility — medical issues on the part of either party that made it so those couples had difficulty conceiving naturally — things that didn’t apply to Cassie and Toto. They were only doing it this way because they weren’t together like a traditional couple, which meant that they weren’t really in a position to try to do things the old-fashioned way.

Cassie’s failure tortured her so much that the only way she’d been able to get any sleep was to imagine that he was there with her as she laid down, imagining herself laying in his arms, like when he’d offered to hold her after her embryo transfer. If she tried hard enough, she could remember the solid warmth of his chest against her back, the fresh, clean scent of his cologne, and how gentle his hands were, in spite of how big they were. Her imagination could only offer her a pale imitation of the real thing, but it was the only way she was able to relax enough to let herself sleep.

As she watched television coverage of the race in Bahrain, her heart squeezed every time one of the television cameras panned to him. Maybe it was Cassie’s imagination, but he didn’t look all that well, either. His hair was in varying states of sticking up in odd places, which Cassie knew was from him running his hand through it whenever he got stressed. His brow seemed to be furrowed constantly, like he was worried about something.

She wanted to see him again, to talk to him, but now, she thought she didn’t deserve to.

His phone calls became less and less frequent as his trip came to an end.

Given the result of the Bahrain Grand Prix, with Sebastian Vettel winning the race and Ferrari retaking the lead of the Constructors Championship, Cassie thought Toto would have other things to worry about after he got back.

Cassie realized at some point that she needed to talk to somebody about what she was going through, even if she’d missed her chance to talk to Toto about it. Not for the first time, she wished that her and her mother had the kind of relationship that most mothers and daughters had, because this seemed like the sort of thing one would talk to their mother about.

However, she did have an eccentric, but kind, aunt. While Sybil had never wanted to have children, she would probably be sympathetic to Cassie’s plight, so she called her aunt after she got home on Monday.

— I’m sorry, ma étoile, that sounds awful. If it helps, I know your sister didn’t have an easy time when she was trying to get pregnant. Your father, of course, was a real knob about it, and it didn’t help that your brother and his wife got pregnant right away. I remember him saying, “it’s always the mare and not the stallion”, as if you can compare horses to people — Sybil said — Your father gave Helena such a hard time about it, but it happened eventually, and it will for you, too.

Cassie sighed. She hadn’t known about that, because she had already stopped talking to her parents around the time Helena got married.

Actually, it was a fight at Helena’s wedding that made Cassie realize that it was probably better for all involved if she didn’t speak to her parents any more. She had to do some mental subtraction to figure out how long ago that was — eight years now, when Cassie was twenty-seven.

— I remember that — Cassie said — That thing about mares and stallions. I never understood that, because even his reproductive veterinarian told him that wasn’t always the case.

Talking about horses, though, made something clear to Cassie, something she didn’t like about the IVF process.

She remembered that her father’s barn switched from live covering — the process of two horses physically mating to produce a foal — to IVF, sometime in the nineties, when Cassie was young. It was easier and more cost-effective, her dad said, to manage breeding so many horses that way. Plus, they could buy sperm from stallions from other farms to produce, saving the cost of having to transport stallions and mares around. But the whole process that Cassie was going through reminded her of that, and made her feel like a broodmare — and not a prized one, either.

She was hoping to be done with it, especially when she imagined her father talking to her like a mare that wasn’t successfully bred.

“Well, there must be something wrong with this one,” he’d say. “Bad blood will out, you know”.

— And what did Toto say when you told him it didn’t take? — Sybil said. It caught Cassie off-guard, though she supposed she should have been expecting that question.

— I… Uh… he doesn’t know yet — Cassie said, shyly.

— What do you mean? Surely you had to have told him. He’s supposed to be the father!

— Well, he was out of the country for a doubleheader, and I — Cassie said. She sighed — I didn’t want to tell him over the phone, and… I wasn’t sure what to say anyway. He’ll be back in the office tomorrow, I think, so I guess I will talk to him then…

She didn’t.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #wlffog #collab #etlwlff

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simulacrum-builds · 2 years

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Bayview Mobile Home Park

I grew up poor, bouncing from place to place with my parents, who struggled to hold jobs. When I was 7 they separated, and from there things got worse. I lived all over the place, from remote cabins with no running water to rundown suburban-outskirts shacks, the kind of borderland holdover that only stands out when towns begin to creep closer. At times we lived in trailer parks, and when we didn't, we often visited them. I have vivid memories of the flimsy walls, the springy floors, the thin carpet that was too old and worn to really have a color that could be named and identified.

I remember too the ways some people would try to beautify the space, lining their trailers with plants or replacing stairs and scrubbing windows. I remember how clean so many of the homes were inside, so desperately clean, as though cleanliness would make anything less shabby. I remember so many people collected crystal figures or even rocks - heavy things that felt out of place in a home that felt so fragile.

The base game doesn't have a lot of room for this kind of life. Even the cheaper things, cracked and peeling as they are, still look more at home in a designer showcase than they do inside a trailer home. More shabby chic than shabby that has been carefully preserved, since it's all you have. I struggled to try to capture the look of the places I remember, and I also didn't want to overload with clutter on such a big lot. So it's not quite right, but using base game items only, I worked to produce something with the spirit I remembered from my childhood. The floorplans are based on or inspired by real mobile home plans (the diamond-shaped trailer had pullout sides! I imagine it here made permanent) that showcase the strange divisions of rooms. The dedication to open living/dining/kitchen areas for the illusion of space; the insistence on multiple bathrooms even when it shrank the bedrooms. Those rooms, dense with humidity, the air wet, the walls too close. The way kids grew up too fast - girls who were still children rushing to put on makeup, to squeeze into tighter clothes, to be grown, because that was one of the only ways to have any agency. Choosing what was already inevitable made it at least feel like a choice.

The narrow spaces between trailers, and the way we pretended we couldn't see into each other's lives. The feeling of being alone but also never unseen.

Yes, this is definitely a sanitized version, clean and sparse, and much more "together" but I did what I could with repeated cabinetry and carpeting, though I think the end result is more "summer getaway" than everyday life. Expansions offer more options there, and CC too, so I left things pretty spare for anyone to use. Always room for more clutter.

In my head canon, things aren't quite what they seem. Posters were slipped out of magazines at the doctor's office - so lucky to be the first to open that one! Paintings were garage sale finds, or liberated from motels; just a picture of a landscape no one is connected to, existing only to fill a space otherwise empty.

The memories make me sad, but I am happy with this build, because it feels like a part of me shared with all of you. Available on the gallery under simulacrum_blds, though I think I'm going to redo with CC. There were so many times I wanted more options, but I enjoyed the challenge of the base game. We'll see. I really want to play through a game with this lot. I may make it the home for my first generational game.

#sims 4 build #ts4 build #simblr #ts4 mobile home #sims trailer park #ts4 #bayviewpark #s_b builds #my builds

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hollands4s · 2 years

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Ellen’s memories

[Immediately after graduation, I was invited to work as a cybernetic doctor in one company ... As they explained to me, this is a huge laboratory that was engaged in various studies. They told me that my knowledge of cybernetics is very important to them, but so far I have been doing other, simpler things ... And it was not clear to me why I was invited here?]

* What's that door? So powerful ... I wonder what is behind it? ... *

[The laboratory itself was located on an island, not far from Windenburg ... I was warned that I needed to take all the necessary things, since the employees of this place also lived there ... I agreed so far only for six months. They promised a very high salary ... I was ready not to see my family for the sake of that kind of money, besides doing what I loved ... There was nothing strange, just a little secrecy. I was not told what the island was called, why did the employees sign nondisclosure papers? Why did we give up our phones before we went there for the first time? Why was it impossible to access the Internet from computers? I had a lot of questions that no one wanted to answer ... But the work itself was interesting and I really got paid quite a lot ...]

* So I wonder what is there ... Maybe an equipment warehouse? Or is it really something of value? *

[I was young, naive and stupid ... And nothing scared me, I thought that it should be so. This means that something valuable and expensive is being produced here, which is why there are such high salaries and everything is very classified ... And, and one more important point, which I almost forgot. Before my name was Nicole ... But more on that later ...]

* Can I open it? I have to try ... *

[The most important scientist and founder of this place was named Brandon. He worked with his team, which also included his own sister Brittany ... And they are both Asian in appearance. That was exactly what put me on my guard when Alicia told your story ... Too many coincidences, isn't there? I think that this is it. Over the years, apparently, his company has grown so much that it's scary to imagine ...]

*So, let’s see... Yes, there is nothing complicated! Now I will open it...*

[I kept wondering why they needed to hire a person like me, who has a lot of knowledge in robotics, cybernetics, artificial intelligence, to work, where I just sat in the same office for two months in a row and developed chips? And also made the analysis of tissues of unknown origin? But if I knew where I really got to... I would not agree to any work that was carried out there for no money...]

*There is!*

*What... What is this...?*

[However, if I had not got there... I would never have met Ray... And he probably would not have gotten out of there...]

#sims #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims story #симс #симс 4 #симс 4 история #симс история

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dr-astrid-zhang-mccoy · 2 years

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Final Confessional

Mentions: Cisco, Xavier, Celeste, Thomas, Juni, Chris

“Wow, it still hasn’t fully sunk in yet that this is the last one,” Astrid chuckled as she sat down in the confessional chair. As much as she missed home, there was something that now felt homey about the island and the beach. With her being here for so long, it was so familiar that despite how strange the circumstances, being on the island felt like it was a second home.

Though maybe that was yet another sign that going back to San Francisco was a good thing.

“Well, I am sure that the entire staff is going to miss you, we’ve been all together since day one,” the producer smiled at Astrid.

“I know! You’re all like family, I’ll need to get everyone’s addresses before I leave so I can send you all cookies.”

“Well that sounds wonderful,” the woman smiled as she jotted a few notes down on a clipboard before giving the nod to start filming, “But as much fun as it would be to talk about hat, why don’t we start on talking about your time on the island.”

“I mean....where exactly should I start?” Astrid asked after thinking a moment, there was just so much that had happened, months and months worth of stories. Picking just a few seemed hard.

“How about you and Cisco?” the producer suggested, as Astrid lit up at the suggestion.

“Well, I think that he’s probably the perfect person for me. We balance each other out really well. He pushes me to be more spontaneous, and I think that I’ve helped ground him a little. It just feels like we were meant to be,” Astrid beamed, thinking of how right everything had seemed since they had started seeing each other, even before they were officially dating.

“So there’s no leftover feelings for Xavier?” the producer asked, which caused the doctor to burst out laughing.

“None. That seems so long ago, I actually kind of forgot about how upset I was at the time,” Astrid admitted as she settled down, “Honestly, I don’t regret my crush on Xavier, because in a way it really showed me that the process was going to work the way that it was supposed to. And timing wise, it left me wide open to accept Cisco when he got here, so I think that just shows that the universe had my back with all of that.”

“That’s a really sweet way of looking at it,” the producer smiled, “You always seem to be able to look at the best in everything.”

“Well I kind of have to. I have a very hard job, one where the odds for many of my patients aren’t great. But I need to give my all, and believe that they are going to get better. There’s so much power in belief like that, whether someone is religious or not. So having that belief has truly come into all parts of my life.”

The producer gave Astrid a nod and a smile, before it turned into a bit of a smirk. “So with that in mind....do you believe that wedding bells are in your future with Cisco?” A blush exploded onto Astrid’s face as she could feel her cheeks burning at the question. It was so personal, and yet one that Astrid couldn’t help but hope the answer was yes.

“Oh...I don’t know yet? Maybe? Hopefully?” Astrid asked, her words tumbling out before she truly could formulate a response. “I don’t know if it’s going to be in the near future though. I think that’s more likely to be Celeste and Thomas, maybe Chris and Juni because they have the little one on the way. So if we get to that point, I think that I would happily marry Cisco. But we’re not quite there yet.”

“That’s understandable,” the producer nodded, “So last question? What’s the first thing that you want to do when you get home?”

“Well that’s a tie. I want to cuddle my dog and also eat my weight in my mom’s lemon cheesecake. So turn that into one event and that’s what I want to do.”

With a nod, the camera was turned off and the producer came and gave Astrid a hug. “We’re going to miss you so much,” she smiled as she let go, “I am wishing you and Cisco all the best.”

#swtask #swconfess

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ladydaemon · 3 years

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SICK DAYS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Yes, I realize how cliché and very non-Kaz this is. I tried my best guys, but I am in the mood for fluff and only fluff so yeah.

Summary: After a night in the rain, Y/N has a cold and it's up to Kaz to take care of her, a difficult task indeed.

Warnings: swearing, really horrible writing, not proofread writing, just me spitting out Words™ at three in the morning

Dangerous assassins do not need sick days.

It was an extremely hypocritical thought, and Y/N knew it. She thought the thought anyway, because at this point, there seemed to be no aspect in her life that was not fueled entirely by spite.

"Please, for the love of the Saints, go to sleep, Y/N," Inej begged, forcing the woman back onto the bed. "You are sick. You need rest."

"I do not need rest, I need caffeine and waffles," the wheezing woman replied stubbornly, trying to get past Inej, who was blocking the doorway of her room. The Slat, usually thundering with noise and chatter, was silent as the grave - it was one of the rare days in Ketterdam where it was sunny, and everyone was either out enjoying the weather or enjoying pickpocketing someone who was enjoying the weather. "I am a grown-ass woman who also happens to be very good at using the bang-bang machines we call guns so please move aside, I need fresh air."

It was arguably entirely Y/N's fault that she was stuck inside in the first place - first, she had stayed out in the rain too long, despite Kaz's numerous protests. Second, she had, in a grave act of stupidity, gone down for breakfast the next morning. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, on this particular day, her eyes were red and swollen and itchy and her lungs hurt and it was generally very obvious that she had a cold.

These were the deciding factors which led to her ultimate demise:

House arrest.

Though the fact that she was notorious for her spontaneous, impulsive, reckless, throw-caution-to-the-wind nature (along with the fact that Kaz, from multiple bad experiences he would rather not repeat, knew that she had nearly no self-preservation skills) probably had something to with it.

Also she apparently needed a chaperone. Which was probably a good idea, but Y/N wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

"You are seventeen and you have a window, darling," the smooth voice of one Kaz Brekker, the devil himself, interrupted Y/N's feeble excuse of an escape.

"But Kaz," Y/N whined, pouting. Inej gave the man an exasperated look as if to say, See what I've been dealing with?

"Darling, you'll only have to stay here longer if you don't try and get better."

"Still."

Kaz, lips twitching in a very non-Kaz way, turned to Inej. "You can go. I suppose I'll play nursemaid."

The Wraith chucked darkly, already stepping out Y/N's window. "Good luck with that."

As soon as she had climbed out the room and was well out of earshot, Kaz turned on his heel and walked out. Y/N, thoroughly confused, took a second to contemplate whether this act was meant that she was officially free, or that she was supposed to follow him. Her question was answered a moment later when he called out, not sparing her a backwards glance, "Are you coming?"

She sighed dejectedly, following him up the stairs to hid room. With a flamboyant and smug bow, he opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him but entered the room nonetheless. Kaz closed the door behind him and strode heavily to his desk, taking the time to shuffle and order some papers. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure as to what in the hell she was supposed to do. Kaz flicked his eyes up to her and jerked his head towards the black-sheeted bed that occupied almost a fourth of the room.

She stared at it for a moment. "You want me to sleep. On your bed. While you watch." It came out more an incredulous statement than a question.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I can't devote all my time to taking care of you, and I also can't leave you alone unsupervised while ill. This is our compromise," Kaz explained somewhat impatiently.

"I am not going to get in that crusty-ass bed, that, in case you have forgotten, belongs to my boss, AKA you. For all I know you sleep nude."

One of Kaz's eyebrows twitched. "The sheets were changed this morning. And for the record, I don't."

"Still not going to do it. That takes the creepy-o-meter to like, a thousand."

"You're a criminal who spies on brothels. This is nothing."

"Still not doing it. This feels fundamentally wrong."

"I'll buy you a nice dagger if you just shut up and get in the damn bed." Saints, he was already exasperated, and he had barely been here five minutes. A new respect for Inej found its way into his being.

Y/N went quiet for a minute, considering. "One of the serrated ones with the fancy gilded handles?"

"Whatever dagger your heart desires."

"Two daggers and a gun."

"One dagger and a gun."

"Deal," Y/N decided, plopping down on the bed. It still felt wrong, but she did need a new dagger - Wylan had blown hers up in a previous job.

She carefully peeled the pristine sheets and blankets away from the mattress, half expecting a dozen poisonous things to pop out. The only thing it released was the strangely comforting smell of wood oil and ink (and a bit of gunpowder, but this was Kaz Brekker we're talking about).

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, her head resting comfortably on the cloud-like pillows.

I bet this bitch sleeps like a baby every night.

"I can still beat your ass, Brekker," she mumbled. Yeah, she was sick, but she also had a reputation to uphold.

"On a regular day, I have no doubt about it. Currently, you are prohibited from doing anything that isn't sleeping, peeing, or contemplating life. Doctor's orders."

"Well, I'm going to go pee then. More freedom." She attempted to stand up from the surprisingly soft bed but the in the second it took for her to try and stand, Kaz, moving surprisingly quickly for a man with a cane, pinned her to the bed by her shoulders with an exasperated sigh.

"Just stay still. Please," he breathed.

"Get me a sweet bun and maybe," she breathed back, but didn't move. Despite her almost child-like demeanor, she was one of the original Dregs, here as a child even before Kaz. He had been the only one her age when he had joined, so naturally, she had befriended him (well, as much as you can befriend Kaz Brekker). She knew about his phobia of touch, and how much it meant that he was touching her, even with his gloves on.

Kaz released her with a sigh and stalked over to his desk where he rummaged around for a bit until he produced a small tin that looked abut as old as he was. He tossed it at her and she grabbed it, opening it to see some biscuits that looked as hard as rocks. "That's all I have, and all you're going get. Don't break a tooth."

Y/N sighed, staring at the biscuits mournfully before taking one out of the tin and gnawing on it. It would have been easier to bite on the barrel of one of Jesper's guns. "You're mean."

"You're acting like a petulant child."

Y/N made a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat, sinking back into the silk pillows and wrapping the blankets tighter around her. She had made no visible mark on the cookie, and had only succeeded in covering it with slobber. She put it back in the tin and noticed Kaz wrinkle his nose at her.

She doubted the biscuits would ever see the light of day again.

She watched Kaz do his paperwork, a surprisingly interesting thing to do. He had taken off his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He even took his gloves off, preferring to use a pen without the ridiculous slipperiness of the leather. The papers shuffled in a soothing rhythm, and soon, Y/N began to feel less cooped up and a bit more relaxed.

Ever since she had been taken away from her family and thrown onto the tiny slaving ship, Y/N had always had a touch of claustrophobia (well, it was a bit more than a touch, but she wasn't willing to admit that just yet). The tiny room with a mattress on the flooor was really just a decoration at this point - she slept on the roof most nights and every waking hour was in Ketterdam, simply walking if there were no pockets to be picked.

Drowsily, she watched as Kaz scratched something out on paper, his face creasing ever so slightly. The pen made a nice sound, she found, and paired with the strangely calming scent of his room and the rustling of papers, it made her feel almost like it was rainy day, the kind where you curled up by the fire and read a book or cuddled with someone.

"I doubt staring at my face will help you fall asleep, love," Kaz noted without looking up from his work.

"Your face is the most interesting thing here."

For the barest fraction of a second, Kaz looked like he had short-circuited. The moment was gone as soon as it came, however, and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "You're very immature sometimes."

"Thanks!" Y/N said cheerfully. "It was the trauma."

"Trauma hardens people, it doesn't make them softer," Kaz dismissed.

"I agree wholeheartedly. However, there's a difference between an excellent mask and incompetence," she replied. "Now come over here and show what's bothering you, I can see it on your face."

Kaz looked up at her, noting the fact that she probably wouldn't shut up unless he did as she asked. He rolled his eyes, hobbling over to the bed. As he sat, she could feel his weight pushing the mattress down.

Before he could say a word, she snatched the paper in his hands and began scanning it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The numbers don't add up."

She stared at the document for another second, then back up at Kaz. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?"

He blinked at her.

"You forgot to carry the one. The numbers don't add up because you... well, added them wrong," she explained softly. She looked up at him, concern crossing her features. "Do you need a nap?"

Kaz huffed out a breath. "I'm fine. You're just distracting me, that's all."

"We're going to ignore the fact that you think I'm distracting and instead focus on the fact that you have not slept in several days."

Kaz's nostrils flared slightly in indignation. Before he could speak, however, Y/N cut him off. "Kaz, I have known you since I was eleven. I'm also not fucking blind. Yes, I know you are essentially running a mafia at age seventeen. Yes, I know you are under pressure. Yes, I know there is at any given moment a bounty on your head. Yes, I know I am sick and it is technically your job to take care of me. But can we please just make a deal or a truce or something in which you get some fucking rest?"

Kaz was quiet for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched. "Always the mother hen for everyone except yourself."

She was startled into a laugh. "What can I saw, I was a born hypocrite."

Kaz did end up getting a couple hours of sleep, even if it was at Y/N's insistence.

However, he almost regretted it when Jesper barged in and, with a gleeful cackle, found them both sleeping in the same bed with one of his legs pressed up against hers - Kaz's version of flat-out cuddling.

Almost.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker imagine

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yumeyooa · 3 years

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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

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢ 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!!

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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.

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pencilofawesomeness · 3 years

Text

htryds: Retirement

September X780

He knew the tea was a trap. Or at the very least, that there were strings attached, because Porlyusica had been uncharacteristically vague about why she wanted him to come, but really, he should have seen this coming.

“I’m retiring.”

Acnologia set his tea down slowly. “Didn’t you already retire?” he asked tiredly.

Porlyusica huffed. “I tried to, but those fools of Makarov’s always needed me for something, be it some injury or magic ailment. As Magnolia doesn’t have a competent doctor of its own, I begrudgingly continued as a part-time physician for Fairy Tail. I never intended for this to last, however.”

“What, have you been training an apprentice all this time?” he asked, but it was more of a teasing statement. “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

Her scowl was expected. “Of course not. I don’t have the patience to train some human in my ways. But I don’t have to, now that you’re here.”

The words registered slowly, but he saw where she was going all the same. “No.”

“Acnologia,” Porlyusica scolded. “I know you don’t have the equipment I do, but beyond being a practitioner of healing magic, you are knowledgeable in medicine and ailment, despite pretending not to be.”

“I’m not pretending about anything. I haven’t practiced medicine in…” Shit, how long had it been? It was the 700s now, and it had been the 300s… “—in four hundred years!” It had been strange enough reawakening his healing magic, but that was only a matter of what amounted to muscle memory. Still, the nature of healing magic was simple; it was good for cleaning and closing wounds faster than the body could do on its own—but it only mimicked the body. It wasn’t medicine, or the study thereof. That was much more complicated. Porlyusica knew this. So, when he said he was rusty, he meant it. What little that he’s reviewed through readings barely scratched the surface of it.

Porlyusica could not produce magic, but she could still attempt murder with her eyes. “You’ll learn,” she countered, and it might as well have been an order.

Acnologia was in between a boulder and a canyon. She was persistent, but she was also out of her mind if the woman thought that he magically acquired people skills better than her own. (They were both hopeless.) Not to mention, for the first time in centuries, he was busy. “I understand where you’re coming from, but I can’t do anything full time either. Sure, I help out where I can, but between the emergency S-Class jobs and the kids, I don’t have that kind of time to dedicate. Besides, with my sleep schedule the way it is, somebody is going to die—and I tried re-syncing to a human sleep schedule, believe me: it didn’t work.” It took longer for dragons to reach the resting heartrate of deep sleep, and they stayed in it far longer. Toying with that cycle, back when he was afraid someone was going to totter off of a cliff or starve to death had been…possible, but stressful.

His (very logical) reasons didn’t persuade her. “And you think I dedicate my life for these reckless humans? I’m not asking you to change careers—just to let me retire in peace.”

“Porlyusica,” he argued. “I honestly don’t know as much as you do. Besides, I’m not even licensed anymore.”

He was fine playing medic and healing wounds, but there was something terrifying about truly being a doctor again. He… He couldn’t. Shouldn’t, even.

“If you have questions, ask. I’d much rather deal with you than some human brat,” she countered easily. “And you were licensed, so it wouldn’t be an issue stepping back up.”

“Yes, I was,” he pressed, emphasizing the past tense of it. “Four hundred years ago! Medicine advanced leaps and bounds since then. Not to mention everything I’ve forgotten.”

“Just as much as it devolved. Healing magic isn’t even practiced anymore. It died with dragons, gods, and prideful humans. Time doesn’t matter that much. It’s fleeting anyway.”

Acnologia clenched his teeth, trying not to stare at his palm. Saying he was “licensed” at all was a stretch. Back in the Minstrel region of a few centuries ago, doctors wore a badge—a tattoo on their left palm. It was something that had to be received from another individual with the brand, and nobody knew how the tradition started. He wasn’t even sure if people did that anymore, down there. The title came with the promise to do no harm and to help whenever possible; it was a creed he threw away when he chose violence. It was just as well that when the dragonization process transformed his body from the inside out, it removed that mark along with all of his old scars.

“Porlyusica, please. I get that you want to retire, but I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“To keep living,” she snapped. There was a note of desperation in her voice that Porlyusica rarely let show, so Acnologia wisely shut his mouth. “To be there. Acnologia, you know I’m aging. Quickly, even. I don’t know how much longer this body will last. This world may not be mine, and these humans aren’t my people, but I’m not so callous that I would abandon those sentimental fools that took me in.” Porlyusica sucked in a breath, swiftly turning so she was no longer facing him. “You’re still young. You’re understanding them faster than I ever could. You would be better for them.”

Damn. Acnologia wasn’t sure what he could possibly say to that. He…understood where she was coming from. It was hard enough to manage yourself when everything around you was a new and difficult concept to grasp. Honestly, he was amazed by the fact that he was interacting with people at all—with some understanding, even. Though Porlyusica gave him too much credit in that matter; he never would have managed it without the kids. Turned out, suddenly caring for time-displaced dragon slayer children presented the opportunity to learn things fast. Sometimes, his head was still spinning.

Not that it made him any more comfortable with the idea that Porlyusica presented. However, it was…true, what she said, about lifespans. Acnologia now aged like a dragon, like Porlyusica now aged as a human. Though he wouldn’t label her as about to kick the bucket, no matter how she spoke. It was also true that he was technically around everyone more often; if he was there, he would deal with a situation before somebody had to go get Porlyusica. He was begrudgingly more efficient, and Acnologia never minded until the notion that he really was the first line of medical defense slammed into it.

“Fine,” he relented softly. “But they’ll still have to bother you first in the winter.”

Porlyusica looked far too smug as she finished off her tea.

He…had a lot of reading to do. Acnologia focused on that, and not the unsettling realization that this was somehow…official now. Though, maybe he should be trying to give himself some more credit; if a killer could be trusted to raise kids, then maybe this wasn’t all that different.

---

One of the reasons I can’t hate the anime is that the bit they added about Acno being a doctor pre-war is just so golden for juicy contrasts and conflicts of character. Also, I know this is not a Frosch piece like I thought, but inspiration came to finish this so at least y’all get something this week.

#fairy tail #htryds #htryds microshot #acnologia #porlyusica #acno is trying his best #self-image is still poor though #but it makes the kids upset so he's trying #FT has such an influx of medics #porlyusica is absolutely taking advantage of this

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there...

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One)

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming. It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good. He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body. He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him. He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away. He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.

And then his alarm goes off.

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock. He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex. Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college? But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off. He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage. They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things. And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly. The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age. Maybe he should call a doctor. He laughs to himself. Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom. In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes. Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket. Two seconds, it takes. Is that really so hard?

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again. It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more. Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed. His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower. It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in. Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky. He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it. Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him. Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart. He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life. Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down. But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own. Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand. The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him. He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed. He’s been too pent up lately. Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers). Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time. But those have faded away over the past year or so. Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs. “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite. A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor. Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. Maybe it’s not. It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable. His husband is home -- he should be happy. Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch. They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people. “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight. But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent. He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says. “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks. Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table. Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag. “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face. He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though. “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips. “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“Ah.”

Sean taps his fingers on the table. Blaine sips from his water bottle. There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.

“Great,” Blaine says. “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him. He feels like they should talk about something. What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out? Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went. Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it. Nothing really feels like a good conversation.

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers. “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk. “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”

Blaine laughs into his water. “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement. “Shame I missed that show. If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug. “I’ve got some errands to run. Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”

“We’ll see,” Sean says. “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight. There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine. It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him. He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo. He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve. He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class. But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.

He finishes off the sandwich without a word. It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat. He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope. “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”

Blaine takes it with interest. He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni. But something from McKinley? That just seems weird. It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion. He has no idea what it could possibly be.

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it. “My old glee club teacher is retiring. He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate. Cute.”

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying. “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing. That is, unless you’d like me to go.”

Blaine stares hard at the paper. It’s not like he couldn’t go. He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend. In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem. “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says. “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers. Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air. There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while. Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up. The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race. The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes. “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again. Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park. Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip. Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives. She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly. Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much. Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs. Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries. She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news. “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back. The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.

Santana nods. “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct. Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down. With no bra. She had on no bra. I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases. They begin to walk down their usual path. They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues. Blaine arches an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted. Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me. I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her. And play with her tits. I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman. “Or, you know, find out her name.”

Santana looks at him sharply. He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions. “Her name is Liz. I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly. “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you. You’re trailing me by nearly a foot. Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it. He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day. “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.” He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.

She gives him a concerned look. “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits. They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park. “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking. “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning. I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks. They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them. “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated. “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that. She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park. But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing. She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns. “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp. “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy. And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy. He loves his job. He loves his little apartment. He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world. He and Sean are… “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?” He begins to walk again. He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana. But she rolls with it.

“He’s retiring? Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh. “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says. “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail. Who sends invitations through the mail these days? Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks. He’s been back and forth on the idea all day. Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again? Possibly? Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely. Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over. “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations. Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there. Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college. He does remember Funny Girl. “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air. “You keep in touch with everyone, right? Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk. “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .” Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school. At least on a regular basis. For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says. She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce. It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head. “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly. Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says. “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own. He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues. “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds. “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life. She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio. Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina. “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons. What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to. Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut. You know she’s already taken a new lover ? She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies. I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers. Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor. Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again. Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend. He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods. They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children. Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world. “Goddess among women. We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.” Santana laughs at her own comments. “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively. He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away. “No,” she says simply. “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.” A fond smile climbs on her lips. “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back. I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent. And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.” She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects. For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart. Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students. And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation. Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs. “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened. But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt. (God, he remembers all of Kurt.) He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt. There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel. A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction. And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.

And yet he did.

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like. Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now. But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name. Funny how things can change. Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it. The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that. Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise. “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something. But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile. He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there. He hasn’t thought about him so long. But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way. “I think we should do it. Go back. I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head. “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other. Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom. They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping. She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties. They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs. The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night. He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow. But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport. Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him. Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday. He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there. He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same. The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points. Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school. It’s a bit surreal.

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar. Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake. He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket. He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm. He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance. God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice. Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic #it's the older klaine reunion fic!#i'm loving writing this one

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berrydoodleoo · 3 years

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If Ignis were himself, he would no doubt have counseled them against the trip, or at least proposed some kind of clever work around. Gladio would have loomed and grumbled, and then would have been the first to bow at Luna’s bedside with some courtly, if gruff, remark. But of course, Ignis wasn’t himself, and really, neither was Gladio. And Noctis knew it was all his fault.

But Prompto was insistent, and he was trying so hard to be himself and keep things light. He'd taken over Iggy’s duties of cooking and planning their trip, and still found time and energy to help Ignis activate the handicap settings on his phone while keeping up a steady stream of light-hearted chatter. Not to mention visiting Luna and helping out with the rescue and relief efforts. It was like watching someone do a ballet in a field full of giant boulders – three of which were named Ignis, Noctis, and Gladiolus – he just kept moving, kept dancing, and you almost couldn’t see the toll it was taking on him.

Almost.

So Prompto brought up visiting Luna’s hospital room again, as-if casually, mentioning that he’d had word from Weskham as to where she was currently hidden, and that he was sure he could get them in without being noticed by Imperial spies. And besides, Pryna had licked his hand when he’d visited last, which probably meant that Luna was going to wake up soon, any day now, and wouldn’t it be something if she woke up while Noct was there? A kiss from Prince Charming, eh?

Gladio had snorted, an ugly, mocking sound, and Prompto had stuttered to a halt, with an expression like his heart was breaking. Ignis had averted his face, just slightly. Shutting the whole world out. And Noctis had dredged up a voice (his own? someone else’s?) from the vise clamping his chest and said sure, Prom, let’s go.

And so they did.

Traveling the streets of devastated Altissia in Lucian royal black was probably unwise, but Prompto seemed to exude a notice-me-not aura that, in conjunction with the chaos still gripping the city, was enough to let them travel unmolested. They kept to the areas packed with refugees where possible, where everyone had their eyes glued to the screens announcing ferries and how long the current wait lists were (some were hours, most were days) instead of at each other. It did nothing for his nerves, which were a constant jangle, but at least no one stopped them. Or worse, shouted, hey, Prince Noctis!

The hospital was mostly intact, at least from the outside. Upon entering, it became clear that it had suffered a beating, either from Leviathan or the Imperial forces. The first level was still flooded, the polished marble turned treacherous by a thin layer of mud. The smell of mold competed with the smell of hospital bleach, and Noctis almost gagged.

There was a crowd here, too, too many people to fit in the emergency room reserved for the most critical cases. Noctis stood aside as Prompto shuffled about, standing on his toes, trying to find the best way forward without attracting too much attention.

A little kid with a bloody rag tied to his forehead stared at them. Noctis met his eyes and then regretted it, trying to look away and act casual. When he glanced up, the kid had wandered from his sleeping mother to stand beside them, still staring silently.

Prompto almost collided with the kid, and then did a double-take. “Hey!” he exclaimed quietly, and he sounded happy. “Stanford, my man!” He crouched, careful to keep the edges of his jacket out of the water. “How you doin’? Still waiting for a doctor, huh?”

Stanford – he must have been a few years younger than Talcott, too young to be so injured and haunted-looking – nodded, popping his filthy thumb into his mouth.

“Can I take a look, dude?” Prompto asked, gentle, touching the bandage on the child’s head. He nodded again.

It made Noctis’ eyes water, seeing how gentle Prompto was with the kid. He unwound the bandage and checked the wound beneath – the sight made Noctis wince – and produced some wrapped bandages and antiseptic wipes seemingly from his pocket (Noct felt the tug that meant they’d really come from the Armiger). He talked the whole time – man, those are cool shoes, I love chocobos, and how old are you again, dude? like, sixteen, right? or seventeen, you’re in high school, right – trying to coax some words out of him. Stanford was clearly listening, half-smiling at Prompto’s jokes, but was otherwise unresponsive.

He submitted to the cleaning with only a little tearyness. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t about anything Prompto had said.

“Do you have more magic potions?” he asked hopefully.

Prompto winced, shooting a quick glance at Noct. They’d agreed early on not to share their potions with people – it was too easy to trace them back to Noct, and Ignis was always concerned they would run out at the worst possible moment (which, to be fair, they had done so more than once).

“Not at the moment, little dude,” Prompto was jittering, hurrying to finish wrapping the bandage, “but uh, maybe later, I can, uh–”

Noctis reached into his back pocket and summoned a potion from the Armiger, the same trick Prompto had just pulled. It was weak – he just hadn’t been able to summon the magic for a proper Elixir once it was clear they wouldn’t help Ignis’ eyes – but it would help ward off infection and help with pain management. For a little while.

Stanford’s eyes lit up, and he started to snatch the glowing bottle from Noct’s hand. But then he hesitated. “For – for me?” he asked, staring up at Noct with the hugest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Yeah.” Noct tried to smile for him, extending the potion a bit further. “Of course.”

Stanford accepted the bottle, hugging it to his chest as if were a precious treasure. Now his eyes glowed with happiness, watching Noct, and he stood obediently still as Prompto finished retying the headband that kept his bandage in place. “Can I share it with my mom?” he eventually asked.

Noctis glanced at the sleeping woman, and wondered what was wrong with her. Was she injured, too, or just exhausted? “Yeah,” he said again. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Would the woman even accept it, if her son told her he had a magic potion from a strange man? Well, maybe she would assume it came from a doctor, or that it was still the harmless bottle of (Noctis checked) apple juice it had started out as. Albeit glowing apple juice. Well, marketing, right? Maybe it wouldn’t seem too weird.

It was Stanford’s to do with as he chose. If he wanted to give it to his mom, or a total stranger, or pour it down the drain, Noctis wouldn’t stop him. He just didn’t have the energy.

Stanford’s eyes went even wider, but he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.

Brave little man. Noctis tried to smile for him again, moved his lips in the familiar gesture, and the kid tried to smile in return. If his own forced smile made him look as sad as Stanford’s did, Noctis mused, then it was no wonder people kept flinching away at the sight.

They found an un-monitored stairwell, the door blocked off with yellow tape. It quickly became clear as to why it was locked down – some tree branches and half a gondola were poking through the battered walls, tossed through marble and concrete by Leviathan’s rage. Worse, there were puddles of slimy water everywhere.

Prompto kept ahold on Noct’s arm – Noct realized he’d been doing that since they left their borrowed refuge in the Secretary’s home, as if Noct would drift away without the anchor – as they made their way up the stairs. “I don’t think he’s gonna keep it a secret, man.”

Noct had to blink himself back to the present. “Huh?”

“Stanford. With the potion.”

Noct shrugged. “Didn’t get the impression he was talking much.”

“Noct…”

“It’s not a big deal. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Prompto seemed deflated, guiding him up the stairs. “Yeah.”

Noct let himself be led. What did Prompto expect him to say? Maybe he wanted Noct to go back down the stairs and offer to help everyone else in the room. Give out their store of potions, grab some bottles of water and start enchanting those, too. Act like a king for once, instead of piece of luggage that had to be carted to and fro by people smarter and more capable.

“I just feel bad, you know?” Prompto said, his voice echoing a bit in the humid, smelly space. “I’ve never done anything to deserve you guys – traveling with you guys, using your magic, seeing the gods, I – I don’t deserve any of this – this magic, this specialness, I’m just –” He swallowed. “And then there’s kids like Stanford, and man, I just don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything.”

Noctis let his arm slide through Prompto’s grip until he could squeeze his hand. They paused, side-by-side as they sidled around a piece of crushed stairwell, and Prompto squeezed back. Hard.

Noct started feeling floaty once they left the stairwell. Parts of this floor were still in use, despite the damage and the flickering lights. But Prompto knew the way, avoiding the lighted areas, and led him to a dark hallway behind more yellow tape.

Noct felt his steps slowing. He and Prompto’s arms, connected by their held hands, stretched like a rope between two ships tugged in opposite directions. They reached a door, Prompto produced a key, and Noct thought he might faint. He pulled free of Prompto’s grip to lean against the wall, heart laboring, spots filling his vision.

Luna. Luna was on the other side. Once he saw her, it would all be real.

He needed more time. Time to get ready, time to be better, time to be the King she believed he was. All he could picture was her face – somewhere between the child he’d known and the woman he’d seen in official broadcasts – crumpling in disappointment, and the fact that it hadn’t happened (yet) did nothing to lessen the pain. Gods. Gods. He couldn’t do this. More time—

Prompto’s face appeared, looking worried and frantic, and then Noct was being hauled into the unlocked room despite his sluggish limbs. He heard the door shut behind them, closing them in safely. And when he opened his eyes, he was in Luna’s hospital room.

“Dude,” Prompto was whispering. “Breathe.”

Noct nodded.

“Breathe. Breathe.” Prompto pressed a quick, awkward kiss to his forehead. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Noct breathed, or tried to breathe. When he opened his eyes, he could see Luna in her hospital bed, traced in appallingly bright sunshine, and he swayed again. Prompto caught him, held him up, held him in place. Just held him, really.

For a minute, he had the inane thought that Clarus and Gladio were on the other side of the door, and if they came in they would see Noct snuggling with Prompto and the game would be up. And then he remembered that Clarus was dead, that Gladio wanted nothing to do with him, and that this wasn’t his father’s hospital room, after the stroke that nearly claimed his life a year ago. Something about the smell, the beeping, the seafoam green of the curtains and blankets, must have taken him back. And his dad was dead, anyway, dead like Clarus, dead like Ignis almost was, dead like Luna almost is….

“I can’t do this,” Noct whispered, when Prompto backed off to give him a little space.

Ignis would have said, yes you can, Highness. Majesty. Gladio would have said, don’t give me that crap, you’re gonna do your duty if it kills us both. Luna would have said, none of us know what we can do until we do it, or fail trying. But I do believe in you, Noctis.

Prompto just whispered, “I know, man.” Noctis met his eyes, briefly, and the love and sorrow there stole his breath. “That’s why I’m here to help.”

Noctis glanced back, thinking of escape, about making excuses and stepping out, running away, back to the Secretary’s house and the room where Ignis and Gladio tip-toed around each other and the smothering silence. And then he swallowed, and squeezed Prompto’s hand, and nodded, meeting his eyes one more time.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, and Prompto led him forward, into the light.

#ffxv #promptis #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #my art #my fic

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midnightsconspiracy · 3 years

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Grief-Stricken

Grief-Stricken - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Whether hank wanted a baby or not was a question that floated around your mind as you found out you were pregnant. But that didn’t matter now as you find out you lost the baby.

Warnings: MISCARRIAGE, ANGST

Word Count: 1462

Requested: Yes

‘hi! Can I request a hank voight age gap fic where the reader finds out she’s pregnant and is scared to tell hank, but then she ends up having a miscarriage while working a case before she gets to tell him’

A/N: This is sad and has a lot of TW’s so reader digression is advised

Masterlist

Being pregnant with Hank's child was not something you had expected to be, not that it wasn’t welcome, it was just a complete surprise when you found out. You’d only been with the man for a little over eight months, finally getting together after countless sly touches and fleeting glances. It had been a whirlwind of a relationship, the whole time being in your bubble of blissfulness. But that bubble had finally popped when you found yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test. Your first reaction was one of shock and surprise, having been told by the man himself that the doctor informed him that conceiving a child at his age was increasingly hard and there was probably a very slim chance if he did want to try. And you had been ok with that, having come to terms with the fact already, but obviously, you were that one in a million chance. After the initial panic of it all, you were content, knowing that you had always wanted children of your own. What you didn’t know was whether Hank wanted another child, he had obviously told you of your chances, but was that only because he needed to let you down gently? Maybe that was his way of saying he never wanted anymore, so there was no point in even talking about it, let alone trying. Your mind was swimming with all these negative thoughts of what he would say, and so at that moment, you decided not to tell him, instead, bringing it up subtly before breaking the life-altering news.

Deciding to go about your day as yourself, you wiped your eyes, straightening your shirt out in the process before heading out of the station’s locker room and upstairs to the intelligence unit. Antonio had given you a funny look as you returned to your desk, you had brushed it off as monthly hormonal emotions and nothing else, luckily he had believed this allowing you to continue as normal. As the day progressed nothing really seemed to happen, the case you were working running dry, leaving you all agitated at not being able to find anything. The lack of action left you thinking and contemplating over what you wanted in your life, what would happen if he didn’t want this baby? Your heart broke at the thought, you loved him so much, but did you love him enough that if he turned around and said he didn’t want it you would abide and stay? Or would you allow yourself to fight back or hurt yourself for the good of your unborn child? That question remained in your head throughout the day, bringing you to the brink of tears each time, there was no way you would get rid of your baby, but that would mean leaving your lover if it came down to the worst. Luckily for you, the other men had taken your emotional state as what you had told Antonio, not knowing otherwise about what women were like. The time rolled on, everything still seemingly quiet and so you decided that you should talk with Hank a little to try and ease into the conversation. Nerves flew around your body, produces chills along your arms as you walked into his office. He greeted you as normal, not aware that anything was wrong, as you walked up to the side of his desk to lean on the edge.

“I wanted to ask you something” You bought up, hoping that everything was going to be ok and you wouldn't have to choose.

“Go on”

“I know you said kids was something you thought you couldn't have anymore, but what if we were to try despite the small chance.” Trying to hold a confident exterior was tough, the nervous interior eating away at you, hoping to turn yourself into a mess of emotions.

“You mean you want a baby?” He questioned, taken completely off-guard by a topic he thought had already been opened and closed.

“Well, y-yes”

“I don’t know Y/N, after what happened to Justin, the twin, my age and how much work it is, I just don’t think it would be practical for us.” Explaining, irritable from the case as he stood up, getting in your face to spill the harsh reality of it all.

“Ok, I was just asking,” you sighed looking down, refusing to cry even though your heart was cracking slowly, piece by piece.

“You knew this when we started dating, so if you want to find someone else go do that!” He shouted, causing you to jump at the sudden escalation in volume, you just needed to get out of there, not knowing how long you could keep the tears back.

“No-o I don't want that, I was just curious-“ You stuttered out, being cut off by Jay barging into the office, informing you both on the break he had found and so the team was to roll out.

Riding to the location, your eyes were constantly brimmed with tears, trying to stop them, but failing on occasion, both Hank and Olinsky giving you strange looks as you sat in the back of the vehicle. Arriving at the stash house, Voight gave out instructions to each member of the team, yours specifically was to go in the back in first position. So that’s what you did, kicking in the door and spreading out to clear the building. As you went to check one of the rooms in the back, an offender jumped out from behind another door, catching you completely off-guard, leaving you unable to react by using your gun. And so he had a one-up on you, instead of running away choosing to fight, delivering a harsh kick to your stomach before getting on top and punching your face multiple times. During that time things had turned hazy, the only sounds were of his fists hitting your face, and eventually someone pulling him off you before you finally blacked out fully.

Feeling yourself waking up, you attempted to open your eyes, the harsh lights above causing you to close them again. You eventually blinked them open checking your surrounding and realising that you were in a hospital bed, a dull throb radiating from your face and chest. Turning your head to the right you noticed your boyfriend, sat on the chair next to you, head in his hands, trembling. Croaking his name out, his head snapped up at the sound of your voice, taking your face into his hands once he realised you were fully awake, whispering how thankful he was you were ok. Calling for the doctor, Will walked in, a grim look on his face, you having completely forgotten about your baby, you didn't prepare yourself for the news. Clearing his throat, he started by talking about your superficial injuries before moving into the heart-wrenching news. You had lost the baby. You would no longer have to make that decision of Hank or your child, it had already been made for you, by a man who had no idea, and would serve no jail time for the murder of your child. Breaking down at the news, you closed in on yourself, sobbing into your knees. The heartbreaking wails of a distraught mother affecting not only your mourning husband but the rest of the ward, all grieving for you as well. Not being able to take it anymore Will left the room, going to compose his emotions in the doctor's lounge as your husband remained, not knowing how to comfort you. Despite having lost his child as well, Hank didn’t know how to process this, he hadn’t been growing this fetus and so couldn't relate to you in that way. But that didn’t take away from the fact he was equally as devastated, bringing you shaking figure into his arms, whispering ‘it's ok’ over and over again. He knew none of his words could comfort you, the loss of your baby would be with you forever, especially after the fact he had told you that he essentially didn’t want it and that if you had wanted one to find someone else but him. That hurt the most, knowing that maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t shout at you, or he hadn’t let you go into the field knowing that your emotions were all over the place, but he had, and he could take it back now. He would regret that for the rest of his life. And as you shouted at him to get out of the room, that you wanted to be alone, he stared at your grief-stricken figure through the glass, reminiscing on how much he had messed up, wondering would this bring you closer together or further apart?

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Taglist: @mileika @redpoodlern @ohitshanksgirlxo @Chazubagi @scarletsoldierrr @cindydoll2 @Anotherfan07 @one-sweet-gubler

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#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines

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9worldstales · 3 years

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MCU Loki: Why I fear they failed to deliver what they promised

At this point I’m kind of confused by who the “Loki” series is trying to reach or which is the goal/message they’re trying to pass along.

They had tried to intrigue assorted audience but, if you ask me, the series has often failed to deliver what it seemed to promise.

Of course I might be wrong. Or maybe I'm not seeing another type of audience the series aimed and managed to reach.

When the series started I wanted to keep a positive mentality and hope whatever seemed not to work would be fixed along the way or have a reason for existing that I just wasn't seeing because I hadn't seen the full story yet.

However, after 5 episodes I'm starting to lose hope the series will make a genuine effort to reach the fans at whom it seemed to aim.

PART 1 – “LOKI” IS NOT FOR THE OLD FANS WHO PRODUCED META SHOWING HOW HIS TRAUMA DAMAGED HIM

"I think it's the struggle with identity, who you are, who you want to be. I'm really drawn to characters who are fighting for control. Certainly you see that with Loki over the first 10 years of movies, he's out of control at pivotal parts of his life, he was adopted and everything and that manifest itself through anger and spite towards his family." [Loki's Struggle With His Identity Confirmed To Be A Focus Of His Disney+ Series]

What was it about Loki as a character that attracted you? He’s just fun, for one. He has a very playful sense of humor about him. I like how he never quite lets you know what he’s thinking. Beyond that, what I connect to about him is the same thing the legions of fans do, which is his humanity and his vulnerability. This is a guy who—yes, on the one hand, he was the prince of Asgard, seems like a nice life—but his father, in fact, killed his actual birth father, adopted him, lied to him about his heritage and parentage his entire life, he was forced to live in the shadow of his oafish older brother who was born to be king. He’s experienced a lot of trauma, and I think that what he’s looking for is just a little bit of control over his life. Which he feels like maybe he’s never quite had. That’s something I think we can all relate with. [From Loki to Doctor Strange and Star Wars, Michael Waldron Is the New Franchise Whisperer]

Let’s be honest, the audience for the “Loki” series is not really meant to be Marvel movies old time fans who enjoyed “Thor” and “The Avengers”, made countless Meta analyzing Loki’s behaviour and who wanted answers about what happened to Loki prior to “The Avengers” or wanted to see Loki’s family terrible dynamics be discussed, or at least to see explored the wrong dynamics of Loki’s interracial adoption (he’s taken away from his planet, the truth is hidden from him, his look is changed to disguise him as an Asgardian, nothing is done against the racial hate for the Jotuns at which Loki is exposed, even witnessing it from his brother) or talk how much in control of himself Loki was during “The Avengers” (okay, the web said the sceptre manipulated Loki, but what about acknowledging that in his own series? It doesn’t have to come from Loki who had no idea he was manipulated but someone could mention ‘think yourself lucky here the stones don’t work, they’ve the nasty tendency to manipulate people’).

The series has avoided digging into all that as much as they could.

Even when Loki talks with Sylvie, the most we get is a small big about how Frigga was awesome in his eyes and taught him magic, but this isn’t meant to explain any of the issues Loki had with his family, it just make Sylvie feel bad because she can’t remember her adoptive mother, as for the D.B. Cooper born out of a bet with Thor, yeah, fun but completely random. What’s meant to be the message about family dynamics here, that it was the bets between Thor and Loki that caused Loki to decide to conquer Earth? Or what about the Sif loop? Is it there to push on Loki the blame of his poor relation with Sif?

No, clearly not.

In regard to Loki the Frigga flashback is there to remark he had a loving and supportive family while the other two are there to have Loki admit he is ‘a mischievous scamp’, ‘a horrible person’ and ‘a narcissist’.

To put it in Classic Loki’s words: ‘Damn it! Animals, animals! We lie and we cheat, we cut the throat of every person who trusts us, and for what? Power. Glorious power. Glorious purpose! We cannot change. We're broken, every version of us. Forever. And whenever one of us dares try to fix themselves, they're sent here to die.’

In short it’s all Loki’s fault if he does bad, nothing happened to him that could have messed him up, he’s just a horrible person… however…

PART 2 – “LOKI” IS NOT FOR THE OLD AND NEW FANS WHO BELIEVED LOKI TO BE A DANGEROUS, EVIL, PSYCHOPATH VILLAIN EITHER

"Loki is an a**, and that makes my life as a writer, easy." ... "Due to the trauma in Loki’s life, I would even [accept a story] in which he is committed to being all bad." [Michael Waldron on Loki: He’s an a**. That makes things easy]

Considering the series is trying to pin SOLELY on Loki his wrongdoing, completely skipping the toxic way in which he was raised you might think they want to paint him as an evil, psychopath who was just born bad.

But no, that’s not the intention, we see it from the start.

Loki is given a quick briefing on how his beloved family loved him despite him hurting them, a briefing that contains false information which would work if we accept the briefing as manipulative but, at this point I’m not so sure that was the author’s intent. The Doylist purpose of the briefing is clearly to show the audience how Loki cares for his family, how he still has feelings, feels pain at the idea Frigga and Odin died and wish to make up with his brother.

It’s not just they loved him and did nothing wrong toward him, it’s also he who loved them and didn’t mean to harm them. That’s why we’re fed that damn discourse about Loki sending the Dark Elves to kill Frigga, because the series wants to remark that no, Loki didn’t want to kill his family, he loved them.

Tom Hiddleston used to say what Loki is came from a place of pain but the series didn’t explore that place of pain… it just gave him more pain and not just in episode 1. Episode 2 has him discovering Asgard is destroyed, episode 3 has him remembering Frigga, episode 4 shows him believing Sylvie die and watching Mobius being pruned. He doesn’t cry in Ep 5, episode 5 wants us to truly feel bad for Sylvie, not for him, but there’s a lot of bitterness from Classic Loki who commits a heroic suicide so you might say we get a sad Loki anyway.

And this also works as a shock to make him change his mind about his ‘glorious purposes’. Sorta, with Thor reminding us he’s not so bad and Loki explaining his behaviour as “I don't enjoy hurting people. I... I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to. Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”

Plot-wise, this is completely useless.

The show will prove Sylvie is not Loki and has completely different motivations and Mobius, being an expert in Variants, should know.

What’s more why would Mobius care if Loki enjoys hurting people or not?

His goal is to capture Sylvie with Loki’s help. The most he should care about is how to keep Loki loyal to him, not if Loki has fun hurting people or not which, in fact, is a knowledge that won’t be used in his investigation.

No, this is here for the viewers, to tell them Loki isn’t a sadistic, evil villain, he’s someone weak who tries to scare others so as not to look weak. As Mobius will put in ‘a scared little boy, shivering in the cold’ who has an ‘insecure need for validation’.

What’s more?

The show will try his hardest to establish he’s not even competent.

Let’s talk of him as a fighter.

In the movies Loki is a competent fighter and side material establish he’s pretty strong, definitely much more than a human.

In “The Avengers” we see Captain America needs Iron Man’s help to beat him and, anyway, Loki’s plan was to be captured. Loki manages to walk away on his feet when Coulson hits him with that superspecial weapon and it’ll take him to be Hulk smashed after a fight with Thor and a meeting with an explosive arrow of Hawkeye before he can’t fight any longer.

This doesn’t happen in the “Loki” series.

Loki gets beaten up by various people in 4 episodes, preferably women (B-15, the people possessed by Sylvie, the guards on the train, Sif). You might say in episode 5 he’s not but actually Classic Loki is the one who gets swallowed by Alioth and our Loki instead survives because he has Sylvie supporting him as, on his own he couldn’t even distract Alioth.

Let’s talk of him as a wizard.

He can use magic, impressive magic but… it serves him mostly nothing. In the TVA his magic doesn’t work. Outside of it is mostly useless. It doesn’t help win fights. The Tempad he caused to disappear gets broken. To beat Alioth they needs enchantment, not his own magic. What’s more, when they’ve to go on the train his disguise wouldn’t have worked without Sylvie’s enchantment and, if this wasn’t enough, he got drunk, removed the disguise and wasn’t even able to make tickets appear.

Classic Loki too, with his impressive illusions is ultimately a distraction. Alioth tears easily through his illusions which aren’t even solid.

Let’s talk of him as a planner.

All Loki will accomplish is to escape from the Time theatre for a brief period in episode 1 and figure out Sylvie hides in apocalypses in episode 2. The rest of his plans fails or are not plan or are mocked over and not even put into practice.

Let’s talk about him as a manipulator with a silver tongue.

He can’t even persuade Mobius when he’s telling him the truth, Mobius dismisses it as a lie due to ‘cockroach's survival mechanism’.

And psychologically?

He’s just someone who crave attention because he’s a narcissist scared of being alone. Not a psychopath.

Loki is not meant to be a dangerous, evil, psychopath villain in this series, he’s a not serious man, a clown, a scared little boy in need of attention, a narcissist who needs to be loved.

Welcome to cartoon villain Loki, this Loki isn’t the Variant of “The Avengers” Loki, he’s the Variant of “Avengers Assemble”Loki… only he’s even less competent than him.

PART 3 – “LOKI” IS NOT EVEN HERE FOR GENERAL MARVEL MOVIE FANS

"That's a lot of Infinity Stones. That's true but they are useless there in the TVA, so I don't know. Is that gun loaded or not? We'll see..." [Loki Writer Comments On Whether TVA’s Infinity Stones Will Return In MCU]

“We had to create an insane institutional knowledge of how time travel would work within the TVA so the audience never has to think about it again. It was a lot of drawings of squiggly timelines.” Marvel already made its case for how time travel works in Avengers: Endgame, but that, Waldron points out, “is the way the Avengers understand it.” With a TV show it’s a little different. “I was always very acutely aware of the fact that there’s a week between each of our episodes and these fans are going to do exactly what I would do, which is pick this apart. We wanted to create a time-travel logic that was so airtight it could sustain over six hours. There’s some time-travel sci-fi concepts here that I’m eager for my Rick and Morty colleagues to see.” [How the Man Behind LokiIs Shaping Marvel’s Phase 4 and Beyond]

BC: The TVA is there to clean everybody up? MW: Yeah, Avengers: Endgame… that's how The Avengers understand time travel. 'Loki,' episode one, is how the TVA explains time travel to Loki and we're certainly building on what's come before us. [Loki: Michael Waldron On Gender Fluidity, Mephisto, Time Travel & More]

It’s true “Loki” is focusing on a new corner of the MCU but it interconnects very poorly with the movies before it.

Although Loki escaped with the Tesseract... it just dismisses completely the Infinity Stones.

Despite talking a lot about timelines and creating branching realities it waved away the whole plot of "Avengers: Endgame" as apparently supposed to happen even though it should have created branching realities.

We see Renslayer wave away how the Avengers went in the past causing the Tesseract to end up in Loki’s hands... and all the other things the Avengers did that affected the past goes unmentioned.

Bruce meeting the Ancient, Thor meeting his mother and taking away Thor’s hammer, Rocket being seen as he steals the reality stone from Jane, Tony stealing a suitcase and damaging the place in which the Tesseract was kept then meeting Howard Stark, 4 flacons of Pyn particles missing, an alarm given to the military bases, how Steve managed to bring back the sceptre if that timeline was pruned, how a timeline handled being without Thanos and Co as they went in the future or how they clearly didn’t bring the orb back the second they took it as Nebula remained unconscious there and nobody came and when she woke up Thanos could get her. It didn’t even explain why Steve remaining with Peggy didn’t change anything.

It's not that the audience has all explained... it's that they were told to dismiss it as 'meant to happen' and that was it.

What's more, the TVA apparently didn't list a finger to stop 2014 Thanos from going in the future and causing Tony Stark's death.

As if this wasn't enough, “Loki” just skips any possible connection with the movies, even hands Loki false information about them (he lead the Dark Elves to his mother when Loki had no idea the Kurse was a Dark Elf and they would have found her anyway as they were searching for the Aether which Malekith could sense, he’s born solely to cause pain and suffering and death, overlooks how he saved Jane twice or helped the Asgardian escape Hela) and never discusses them again.

Even with Classic Loki, who’s a Variant of “Avengers: Infinity War” Loki, they don’t talk about what happened after Loki’s supposed dead, apparently hinting it was better if he died, nor explain how Loki knew Thor survived.

PART 4 – “LOKI” IS NOT REALLY OFFERING A GOOD REPRESENTATION FOR FEMALES EVEN THOUGH IT CLEARLY AIMS AT FEMALE AUDIENCE

Let’s make a quick experiment.

Everyone, let’s name all the characters we remember which appeared in more than 1 episode of “Loki” for more than one minute.

We’ve, of course, Loki, Mobius, B-15, Renslayer, Sylvie, C-20 and Miss Minute.

5 females versus 2 males.

What’s more, females are not sexualized, they remains completely dressed, they’re clearly not there to attract male gazes, they’re represented as strong, dangerous, in control, something archived often by showing them beating males either physically or intellectually or in rank.

It seems promising. At first.

Is there someone who’s sexualized?

The “Loki” series takes care to offer us Tom Hiddleston naked.

So since there’s an abundance of females in the cast and Tom Hiddleston is shown naked is it aiming at a female audience?

Very, very likely but… but how’s then handled all this?

When Loki is seen undressed he’s not in a situation of power, like Thor who’s twice shows half naked in his movies but because he’s changing/washing and perfectly comfortable in showing his body and once in a situation which could be a male forbidden fantasy, to have many women massage your naked body, no, he’s shown as he’s powerless while being stripped by a machine. Clearly not a male power fantasy, more like a male nightmare.

And, in a totally not surprising way, pictures of this scene were spread by many female fans because it was aimed at them… though a part of them, was also honestly appalled at seeing this scene in contest, finding the forced stripping humiliating and degrading.

Sure, a naked Tom Hiddleston makes a nice eye-candy but this wasn’t how Loki’s many fans wanted to see Loki naked.

But let’s talk of female representation here, since the show seems to be interested in female audience… only who even though this was the representation women wanted doesn’t understand much of women representation in the first place.

Why?

For start because women here are all the same type of woman.

Strong fighters who’re in control and confident, with no real characterization beyond this to speak of despite the large amount of screen time.

Renslayer is an ex-hunter who can fight one on one against Sylvie and who clearly has the position of power she has because she was good as a hunter and shows her abilities in fighting after that Sylvie had beaten 2 guards at the same time. B-15 is introduced by beating Loki and is the commander of a squad. C-20 is another commander and, albeit possessed, can dispose of a part of her squad members.

Do I need to spend words on how Sylvie is depicted as this awesome fighter who has learnt to fight by herself, can keep at bay more than 1 Minuteman, can use a sword, has learnt enchantment on her own and is feared by all the TVA? Do I?

And it’s awesome to have women who are strong fighters in positions of command/power/control… but why women has to be represented as just that?

Even when they add a female as an one episode cameo, it's Sif, beating the hell out of Loki. And what about the Lady in Lamentis 1 who was too old to be strong but managed to blast away both Loki and Sylvie seeing through their deceptions?

Even the harmless Miss Minute can avoid being hit by Loki and gets she has to pretend to do researches to stall Sylvie and save Renslayer.

Women kick asses here… but that’s all they’re good for.

And so we get to Sylvie, who is the superior Loki Variant… because she’s female.

Kid Loki: You're different. Why? Loki: No, I'm not, you see? I'm the same, really. I'm the same as all of you. Have any of you met a woman Variant of us? Classic Loki: Sounds terrifying. Loki: Oh, she is. But that's kind of what's great about her. She's different. She's not trying to take over the TVA, she's trying to take it down. And she needs me. Now, you said Alioth is what keeps us here. You said it's a living thing. You said it's a shark. Well, if it lives, it dies. So I'm gonna kill the shark. I'm gonna kill Alioth, and I could use all the help I can get.

That’s what Loki preaches to his fellow Lokis who think a woman Loki would be terrific.

I mean, they’ve an alligator Loki, a POC Loki, but the one who has to be different is the female Loki. Because being female is a character trait.

Mobius: Okay. I feel like I'm always looking up to you. I like it. It's appropriate. [Ep 1]

Basically females in the “Loki” series are all representation of the Action girl trope and aren’t even different representation of said trope. I mean, “The Avengers” have 5 actions boy who’re clearly as different as they could be. Girls can be represented as different too, if they really aim at young audience they can take good old “Sailor Moon” as an example. 5 action girls who are strong and determinate AND DIFFERENT, more than just someone who kicks the adversary away.

And it’s not like they don’t know how to characterize people in a different way.

Mobius is an analyst who shows sympathetic traits toward the Variants and a certain level or intelligence. U-92 and D-90 are hunters who are shown to held Variants in little regard (U-92 wanted to attack the boy they found in the church, D-90 mistreated the scared people in the shelter). Casey is an harmless and naïve guy who had never seen a fish. The guy who made Loki sign the papers about what he said seemed emotionless but he clearly loved cats as not only he had one but on his cup there was also the image of a cat. Martin is clearly a bossy daddy’s son, who think too high of himself to the point he can’t respect rules. The boy in the church, despite thinking Sylvie was a demon, accepted and ate food she gave him and remained in the place despite the crime. He’s clearly more brave than he looked like but he’s also naïve as he easily trusted ‘the demon’ and Mobius.

What’s C-20 character trait when she gets described by Sylvie?

Sylvie: Yeah. She was just a regular person on Earth. Loki: A regular person? Sylvie: Loved margaritas.

She’s a regular person who loves margaritas. Liking a drink is not a character trait!

There’s a more diverse female representation in “Thor” than in “Loki”.

In “Thor” we’ve Frigga, queen of Asgard, loving mother and wife who’s powerless to erase Thor’s banishment. We’ve Sif, a dangerous and loyal warrior. We’ve Jane, the amazing scientist with a lot of enthusiasm. We’ve Darcy, who’s funny and who seems focused mostly on herself but who, when the city is attacked, worried to save all the animals at the pet store.

But maybe the one who gets the worst treatment is the supposed heroine, Sylvie, because the poor girl is turned into a Mary Sue.

In case someone isn’t familiar with the term:

“The prototypical Mary Sue is an original female character in a fanfic who obviously serves as an idealized version of the author mainly for the purpose of Wish Fulfillment. She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye colour, and has a similarly cool and exotic name. She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting. She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing. She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story. The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting; if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal. She has some sort of especially close relationship to the author's favourite canon character — their love interest, illegitimate child, never-before-mentioned sister, etc. Other than that, the canon characters are quickly reduced to awestruck cheerleaders, watching from the sidelines as Mary Sue outstrips them in their areas of expertise and solves problems that have stymied them for the entire series.” [tvtropes.org]

So let’s see how she fits this checklist:

1) She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye colour: Sylvie painted her hair blonde even though the Lokis are supposed to be black haired

2) has a similarly cool and exotic name: She is the only Loki Variant who has changed her name from Loki to Sylvie.

3) She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting: Awesome at fighting she can enchant people, an ability the Lokis don’t posses, that she magically learnt on her own and that is necessary in the story. Also she figured out how a Tempad worked BEFOREseeing it in action.

4) She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing: No flaws, all her plans involve fighting and brute force is no substitute for diplomacy and guile, which could be a flaw… if it wasn’t for the fact that the series will prove Sylvie can plan just fine without using fighting and brute strength and also be successful at it.

5) She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story: She was taken by the TVA when she was younger than Kid Loki but managed to escape them and had to live alone and on the run till then.

6) The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting: Loki, who has never loved anyone, falls for her, Mobius saves her and apologizes to her, B-15, who used to look down at Variants, basically asks her what should they do and is shown admiring her, the Lokis don’t criticize her plan, Classic Loki dies to save her, everyone views her as the superior Loki Variant.

7) if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal: Renslayer, the hunter who has arrested her, is currently playing the part of the antagonist who’s fascist and believes in a murderous, lying cult.

8) She has some sort of especially close relationship to the author's favourite canon character — their love interest, illegitimate child, never-before-mentioned sister, etc.: She’s the Variant and love interest of the titular character.

9) Other than that, the canon characters are quickly reduced to awestruck cheerleaders, watching from the sidelines as Mary Sue outstrips them in their areas of expertise and solves problems that have stymied them for the entire series: Loki, the title character, has conveniently been turned into someone who’s a weak fighter and incapable of planning which Sylvie has to save by enchanting guards or giving him her sword or pruning herself or teaching him how to enchant and coming up with all the plans.

Now all she needs in order to be a perfect Mary Sue is to know how to sing well as Mary Sue usually do this as well, though I’m sure she can do it because Loki could so she surely can.

Sylvie is amazing, Loki himself said so:

Loki: No. We may lose. Sometimes painfully. But we don't die. We survive. I mean, you did. You were just a child when the TVA took you, but you nearly took down the organization that claims to govern the order of time. You did it on your own. You ran rings around them. You're amazing!

There’s nothing inherently wrong in having a new female character who’s competent, for whom the hero falls and who changes him… if all this is built around a solid plot.

Think at “Iron Man”.

Tony Stark is, to quote Tony Stark himself a “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”.

It’s amazing, isn’t it? But the movie shows us why he’s that.

It spends time setting up his pedigree, how he inherited the money and intelligence from his father, how he was supported as he grew and studied becoming always a greater genius. Tony shows himself to be charming before seducing his first woman onscreen so that when he does it makes sense. His philanthropic activities are, at first, just mentioned but seems rooted in how his father was a hero who helped fighting Nazi and then they became his mission. He felt guilty he was a merchant of death and tried to make up for it.

Sylvie too could have a solid plot behind herself.

Instead than magically knowing what a TemPad does and how it works and managing to escape with it, she could have escaped with, let’s say, a hunter that discovered the truth and decided to rebel to the TVA or just had pity of her. Maybe another Mobius Variant who used to work at the TVA prior to Mobius and that, instead than an analyst was a hunter. She might have learnt fighting from him and then he too died and she was left alone.

Enchantment might have been an ability she might have learnt coming in contact with a mind stone. It could have been an occasion also to talk how mind stones can influence people negatively. Or it could have been taught to her by Frigga who, with a female daughter, decided to teach her a different type of magic than Loki.

Her past could have been explored more instead than being tragic for the sake of tragic. We might have seen her fall in love and either be betrayed or have to say goodbye to her loved one because that reality got pruned. We might have seen her being interested in males and females alike as she’s supposed to be interested in both.

She could have had discussions with Loki that weren’t just about Frigga or about how the TVA kidnapped her from Asgard, she escaped and from that point on she was always on the run, or about how love didn’t feel real, but more about how they were, how they felt, what hurt them and what made them happy, what they liked and what they disliked, their ideals and their fears, things that can built up a relation.

Loki basically fall for her because she’s on a mission for revenge instead than power and seems confident. That’s his reasoning.

She falls for Loki… because apparently he’s the person who spend time with her who praised her. That’s not a solid love story, that’s desperation.

SYlvie could have flaws, she could have learnt diplomacy or persuasion from Loki or could have something she lacks and Loki has so that they would complete each other.

And since the purpose was to have Sylvie and Loki fall for each other… they could have let Loki have characteristics that can motivate the exceptional heroine to fall in love for him PRIOR to him falling in love for her. He might be shown good at something, instead than just a clown.

Even if we say the real purpose of this series was to turn Sylvie into the protagonist, the heroine, a good Loki character was still needed to explain why this awesome girl would fall for him.

So okay, there will surely still be women who can see themselves in Sylvie and imagine they got Loki… and it’s not bad really… but I think we deserved more.

Long story short, yes, “Loki” has many females in its cast and this is meant to draw the female audience… but the representation is poor as almost all of the females have no character traits and Sylvie is just a Mary Sue with no realistic characterization.

A good female representation is diverse and solid. Women don't need to be born irrealistically perfect out of nothing to be good, they can inherith and grow and learn to be as such like any human being.

Last but not least…

PART 5 – DOES “LOKI” REALLY OFFERS REPRESENTATION TO THE LGBT COMMUNITY?

BC: There is a lot of talk on social media about Loki being gender fluid. Wouldn't that actually be a natural fit for the character? MW: Yeah, I guess as, with all questions pertaining to that stuff, I think those answers, truly, are best experienced in the watching of the show, as opposed to me trying to answer them. Because it's just watching it and the way that's addressed and everything will just be more fulfilling. BC: Why do you think it's important that Loki is gender fluid? MW: I think that Loki is a character that a lot of fans see representation in. People that haven't felt represented before, and they see themselves in Loki and everything. So we want to do justice to the character, to who the character is in the comics and in Norse mythology as well. And you also … you know you want folks to feel represented, and everything. That's why it's important. It always has been. It comes from everybody on the creative team. [Loki: Michael Waldron On Gender Fluidity, Mephisto, Time Travel & More]

The series hugely spread the info that this Loki would be fluid and Bisexual. The news were welcomed with delight and it’s awesome how the series didn’t hesitate to put it on paper.

Loki being fluid was written for everyone to see, and Loki having male and female interests was spelled out for everyone to hear.

IT’S A GREAT THING!

However…

It’s all we got.

It had no relevance into the plot whatsoever, it’s just a random info we’re given.

Him being fluid was on a paper along with his other data like eye colour and birth planet.

Him being interested in males and females seems to be put there just to imply he tried a large amount of people before deciding love didn’t feel real.

Assuming the other Lokis too were fluid, they actually found terrific the idea of a woman Loki in a not positive way. They weren’t interested or asking for clarifications about what Loki meant.

Loki’s bisexuality doesn’t even get a side story, them sending Fandral to beat Loki instead than Sif because Loki cheated on him or something. I’m not upset Loki ended up with a female, this is one of the possibilities of a Bisexual person. I’m upset that this was used merely to attract the audience but then wasn’t explored. They could have said Asgard was open minded with it, or disapproved it so Loki had to keep it hidden, or it could have been Sylvie who discussed some experience in that regard.

We were told over and over it was a show about identity. We expected it to be explored instead we were just told ‘ah, by the way, Loki is bisexual, let’s move on.’ And that was all.

Having representation from an important Marvel character is always important, especially considering the shortage of representation. But honestly I expected more.

PART 7 – TO SUM IT UP

Many of the people who worked in “Loki” are fantastic actors. They worked hard for this series, I can see they tried their best.

The premises for the “Loki” series are interesting.

We get a Loki who hadn’t experienced most of what happened in the movies yet, we make him confront with someone who knows his life, the one he lived and the one he was meant to live and we also make him confront with Variations of himself.

Loki has the Tesseract and the TVA has plenty of infinity stones, we could explore them.

The TVA itself have a fascist organization that dictates people’s lives and murders whoever tries to do differently, that goes so far as to brainwash the people working in it, which mistreats and belittle the Variants and establish a manipulative cult around the Time-Keeper with elements of police brutality which could be very actual.

Time travelling was the plot of "Avengers: Endgame" they could have tied the movie to the series, esplore the why some time travels were allowed and some weren't or their effects.

There were references to plenty of awesome comics they could take inspiration from.

But unless it redeems itself with the last episode… well, so far it’s failing to deliver what it promised due to a really poor plot which doesn’t give the characters a chance to be themselves or to be characterized as they’ve no real story nor real differences to speak of.

They’re given more time than a movie as they’re a series… but that’s no good excuse for wasting said time.

I’m still hoping the last episode will be spectacular, that it’ll manage to erase the messes of the other 5… but, as of now I’m disappointed.

I’ll just keep my fingers crossed and hope they’ll surprise me.

#mcu loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #9 worlds study

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sixth-light · 3 years

Note

Joe is the winner of a TV show to paint a royal portrait of the crown prince. Nicky hates sitting for paintings, and it's worse because there's a camera crew filming it too so he's a bit waspish to start, but Joe is charming and chatty and talented and over the course of three sittings Nicky has an OH NO moment.

(this is just a teaser sorry/not sorry because this is TOO good as a marriage of (in)convenience au)

The first thing Nicolò thought about Joe al-Kaysani, when they shook hands in front of three cameras, eight crew, and two members of his father’s PR team, was that he had an impressive amount of self-control. Nicolò had let himself forget, in the years he’d been out of the royal spotlight, how people tended to act when introduced to a member of a royal family, much less the Crown Prince. Even the most self-possessed ones got nervous. It was strangely similar to how they behaved with doctors, sometimes, except in emergency medicine patients usually didn’t have time to be nervous.

After three months back in Genoa and most of those as the heir, Nicolò was already adapting to the ones who went nearly silent, and the ones who babbled, and worst of all the ones who looked at you like you were a lock they had to unpick to get what they wanted. al-Kaysani was none of those. He smiled and looked Nicolò in the eye, and his grip was firm but not too tight, warm but not sweaty. It was an astonishing degree of self-possession for someone who was here because he’d won a competition to paint a royal portrait.

Or, no; they’d probably picked him in part because of that; certainly they had to have picked him in part for his face, Nicolò thought, trying not to let it be cynical. He really didn’t doubt the man’s talent, but it seemed altogether too coincidental that he should be beautiful as well.

Nicolò was so busy thinking about this – he was, truly, very striking – that his mouth went on autopilot and the next thing he said was “So, what do you do, Mr al-Kaysani?”.

al-Kaysani laughed out loud, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, then hastily ducked his head. “Ah, I’m sorry, your highness – they did tell you what this was about?”

Three cameras, eight crewmembers hovering, one of them the director – Nile Freeman, if Nicolò remembered her name right – and two PR flunkies with very pinched expressions; the only way out of this was through.

“You’re here to paint my portrait, yes,” Nicolò said, smiling a little to ease the sting. “Shall we try that again? I’m sure it would be appreciated.”

The producer, who was hovering just behind Ms Freeman, shut his mouth; he had been about to say something, probably just that.

“Of course,” al-Kaysani said at once, and held out his hand again. “Your highness, my name is Joe al-Kaysani; I’m so honoured to have the chance to paint you.”

“I’m grateful you’re lending your talents to this – to us,” Nicolò replied, meaning it; the file he’d been given had included a selection of al-Kaysani’s work, and it was very good. They shook hands again. This time al-Kaysani smiled at him, and Nicolò couldn’t help smiling back. He fought to keep it out of his eyes, and knew he was failing.

Three cameras, eight crew, two PR staff. There was no way on Earth that they could have selected this man intending him to be quite so precisely Nicolò’s type. That was something Nicolò was going to have to grit his teeth and ignore, for the three sittings that were scheduled to complete this painting. Which was a problem, because sitting still while people looked at him was Nicolò’s personal idea of hell as it was.

Their hands parted. Having shaken al-Kaysani’s hand twice in as many minutes, Nicolò had had ample time to feel that his fingers were as long and slender as they looked, making Nicolò feel like his hands were large and clumsy. All the better for holding brushes with, he supposed. Or –

No. He couldn’t afford that even in the privacy of his own head.

#the old guard #my fanfic #joe x nicky #kaysanova #yes this is going to be A Thing #um...we shall call it #the portrait au #fadagaski

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lachimolala-is-love-and-life · 3 years

Text

The Strange Case of Kim Taehyung and V 💀💖💦

Chapter nine >

Genre: Horror!Au, Historical!Au, Yandere!Au, Angst, Romance, Smut, Death themes, Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Words: 4367

Summary: Seoul, South Korea. During a night a man deliberately tramples a child, not caring about her cries. Chased by a passerby, the demonic V agrees to compensate her with money: but the cheque he produces has the signature of the distinguished Taehyung, a doctor esteemed by many. It is the beginning of Taehyung’s fall into a vortex of oddities: he isolates himself, seems tormented by violent anguish, and above all provides V - who inspires instinctive horror, and who is accused of disgusting crimes - not only money, but also protection in his home. What dark covenant can unite such different personalities?

(Plot inspirated by “The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” by Robert Louis Stevenson with some differents. But i wanna give him credits to write this wonderful book. I really love this story and it’s one of my favorite book. Hope to honor this wonderful writer)

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Jungkook... come here to Sinchon... please... I need you... help me..."

"Y/N! What happened to you? Tell me where you are that I run to you right away!!" Jungkook’s voice seemed to be worried about me crying desperately. Usually I never showed my suffering to others, even with whom I was dearest in the world. But now? I needed someone, I didn’t want to be alone...

"Jung... kook. I’m... I’m... at Sinchon... he... he..." I couldn’t talk. The hiccups and lumps in my throat kept me from saying anything...

"Shhh. Calm down. Take a deep breath. If you can’t talk, send me a message with the address and I’ll be right with you. Don’t be afraid!" And when I said that, he finished the call waiting for the message with the address of the house of V...of that horrible monster. How could he do such an inhuman thing to me? Why was he so cruel? From the words with which he described me in his diary, he seemed to love me. But it doesn’t seem like a healthy and normal love, but more like a psychopathic and obsessive love. Such a person had also killed for me... He is the definition of "dangerous man". A rogue like that who for years had stalked me apparently... Tae knew about this? Did you already know of its existence when you still did not know it around? There was a reason if suddenly appeared out of nowhere...

I was completely lost in my thoughts that I did not notice the steps that were fast approaching me, until Jungkook appeared from the door of V’s room.

"Y/N!" he said as he rushed to my side to lock me up in a comfort embrace. Feeling such a gentle and reassuring touch, I burst into tears again. I felt his hand leaning on my neck to get close to his chest and he starts caressing me.

"Hey. Now I’m here to protect you... Try to calm down and take a breath. when you will feel ok, tell me what happened, okay?" He asked me with a sweet voice. I returned his embrace. I needed to feel the warmth of a friendly person and even though I had known him for a short time, I realized that he was a good person I could trust. His grip comforted me and after a few minutes he began to tell him what had happened and what I had found.

"Jungkook... I didn’t tell you where I was going because I thought I was strong and brave even though I knew the danger could be that man... This is his house..." he made me detach from his grip and he began to stare directly into my eyes "His house? You mean..."

"Yes. This is V’s house" His eyes opened cause of surprise "Y/N! it was something irresponsible to come here alone. You know how much danger he’s, and if you still comes in here alone, thinking you're gonna be a hero. If you had asked me to come with you, I would have gladly accompanied you. But what’s on your mind?"

"I know... sorry. You were right" I lowered my head for shame. His words were all correct. If he only came with me, this probably wouldn’t have happened... I wouldn’t have been raped... by that monster...

He took my chin between his thumb and my forefinger and lifted my face to look at it "Hey, don’t worry. I’m here now. Go ahead and tell me what happened to you..."

"When you said at the river that we should start looking for clues to confirm V’s guilt... well... I already knew where to look. Here, in his house surely something would have turned up... I knew where he lived because it was not the first time I met him Do you remember when you told me that a witness kept glimpsing him at night melts in that alley where the accident with the child had happened?" and he nodded at my question "Well, for some nights, I’ve been waiting for a confrontation. Not because he did anything to me, but because he had a weird connection to someone I knew, and I wanted to find out what was underneath that. When I was lucky enough to cross his chimney, he explained to me that he lived here in case I wanted to "visit him", but obviously I never did... until today. I knew he was hiding something. He had to! And so I stupidly came here alone and I started looking around, especially in his room, and I found a checkbook with a few pages ripped half-scorched between the ashes of the chimney and the missing piece of his walking stick..." and I pointed out to him the objects that were still lying on the floor next to that fireplace.

"So... now we know he did it! The missing piece of the stick is here at his house and if it matches the one found at the Han River, the matter is resolved and we can start a manhunt to find V! We will go straight to the bank to block his account so he can no longer run too far away! Then this booklet is similar to the check that he gave to the father of the child as compensation for having hurt her. I recognize it! is definitely his! Y/n you saved the investigation!" he was excited to the news but soon after his expression turned into concern and confusion Jungkook "But that doesn’t explain why you called me crying... What happened after..." I decided that for now I would not tell him about the diary. It was a conversation I had to have before all this with Tae, something was wrong.

"Well... I was analyzing the clues when..." Tears started to form in my eyes again. It was a tremendous experience that would torment me even in my dreams "When I found V in front of me. I didn’t hear that he came back at home and he saw me wandering around in his room... he..."

"He...? Don’t tell me he did what I’m thinking now..." and I nodded "He raped me, Jungkook. It was awful and he was violent with me. He gave me no pity. He had tied my wrists with his belt and tied to the railing of the bed... He had me under his control and I felt... useless, helpless. I feel so dirty Jungkook!" and I burst into tears again. Tears came down and they had no intention of stopping. Jungkook gently grabbed my wrist and pulled down the craze of my shirt in such a way as to show the skin with the bruise where V had tied me.

"I will kill that bastard as soon as I find him! After this murder, rape is added to his list of crimes!" Then he grabbed my face in his hands "I promise you, Y/n! I’ll find him and make him pay for doing this to you! No woman should suffer such atrocity from any human being. I’m gonna take you home, and we’re gonna start making a sketch of V to put in flyers to track him down. We’re gonna find him, and I swear to God, I’m gonna throw him in jail and throw away the key. No i am gonna to destroy it. All right?" and I nodded at his words. Even though he was so young, he had the maturity to understand the gravity of any situation and to keep a cool head without getting caught up in the emotions."

Jungkook took with him all the objects I had found to help him with the investigation but as soon as he invited me out of that room I asked him the favor to go ahead before me. I had to collect that diary and show it to Taehyung. It was all so confusing and I needed him to clear my head once and for all and tell me who his bastard "friend" V was. I have to convince him to tell the truth. He must know it! But as soon as he started looking for its in the place where I had fallen, I realized that there was no trace of it. Where had it gone? I searched but nothing. Before running away, he had taken it with him? I gave up and I went away from there... I never wanted to go back to this house again

Once Jungkook drove me to my house and he made sure I was safe, he decided to leave to begin the search to arrest V as soon as possible. I decided to take a shower instead, I still felt dirty because of the cruel act that V had done to my body. The water in the shower was warm and I burned on the bruises he had left me not only on my wrists, but also on my hips, on my butt and on my inner thigh. He had been so brutal to me... and I left to abandon myself to one last cry before abandoning the heat of the water. It was supposed to be the last cry, and I needed to start building up some courage. If I had to talk to Tae, I couldn’t have been seen in such poor conditions. Who knows if he knew about this whole thing? About murder and my violence? I know it’s only a matter of time before his connection to V comes out and the police go to question him. Tomorrow I would go talk to him and understand this strange and bizarre matter once and for all. Now I just have to fix my thoughts and control my emotions. After a shower, all I needed was a good night’s sleep to try to forget what happened to me today...

The next morning

I woke up after a terruble night and I even more exhausted than the day before. It was a night of only nightmares. There was always this red-eyed shadow with sharp teeth that tried to drag me away with it, get away from the light to prune me in the darkness... It was probably connected to V. Of course that being had to haunt me even in my dreams.

I sighed. It was better to get dressed and go to Tae as soon as possible. I just hope that he doesn't close himself inside his lab again or I’d have to pull him out of there. The matter was serious and I did not tolerate any kind of attempted isolation on his part. Today everything had to be clear and precise and the truth had to come out.

In fact, I swear half an hour, I was already at Tae’s house. I knocked repeatedly on the door until a Jimin with a worried expression opened "Sorry Jimin for the time, but I have to talk to Taehyung immediately"

"Y/n... thank God you’re here. The master is not in himself. He did not eat anything and remains locked in his laboratory. I was going to come to you to try to convince you to talk to him. Please come in and I’ll take you to him" Tae was worried? He already knew everything...?

Jimin made me sit in the house and he took me to the lab door. "There you go. Since yesterday he’s locked up in there and refuses to talk to any of the staff, including me. Try to make an attempt... I beg you," I nodded to the poor butler. He was so worried about his master that it seemed he was close to a crying crisis "Let me do it Jimin. You go on and do your chores. I’ll update you as soon as we finish talking". Jimin gave me a half smile and walked away.

I took a long breath and knocked on the door of the lab, but everything was quiet. Tae probably thought I was one of the servants. I knocked on "Tae... it’s me... I need to talk to you... please..."

After a few minutes of waiting the door opened slightly and a weak voice came out of that small opening "Y/n... please enter... I just want you here... with me... please... come in and close the door"

I did as he asked and as soon as I found myself inside that dusty laboratory, what put me in great anguish was to see Tae in pitiful and desperate conditions...

You could see that he was not well. His hair was all ruffled and his scrubs all scruffy. His skin was pale, white as a ghost, and he had deep black dark circles. His eyes were red and swollen as if he had been crying for hours and probably so seen that his cheeks were damp because of tears.

"Tae..." I whispered to him. But as soon as he saw me he threw himself on his knees in front of me.

"Y/n... forgive me... forgive me because I have sinned. You did not deserve it... Seokjin did not deserve it... two innocent souls that have been stained by the wickedness of a man. And all because I did not have the strength to control him. Forgive me, it’s my fault!" and he burst into a desperate cry. I knelt before him and squeezed him hard at me. He did not return the hug but I could feel that he was leaning with his face in the recess of my neck and wetting my skin with his tears.

"I don’t deserve you... I don’t deserve anyone. I’m a monster..."

"No Tae... you are not the one. It is the fault of that Kim V who did this to you, who is only hurting us... You had nothing to do with what happened to Jin... what he did to me... I know you did your best, I know your heart is pure and you would never do any of this... you’re innocent, all right? You didn’t do anything..."

"Everyone talks about it and the guilt is killing me. I don’t deserve anyone. I was a fool to believe I could control him, but I failed. And now a person is dead and you... you were raped by that monster... You didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve it!"

"Shhhh... calm down. Now they’re looking for him and he won’t give you any more trouble. I was so worried about you, Tae... I came to see you to talk to you about something, but seeing you like this... just makes me understand how you’ve been suffering for a long time. Let me help you... Namjoon and I love you so much... let us give you a hand... Don’t isolate yourself and be alone" and my tears started to come down again "I hate to see you suffer... see the person I love the most who is slowly killing himself. I don’t want to lose you Tae. I... I..." And now every word didn’t come out of me no longer came from my mind, but from my heart and in the end what I kept inside for years came out "I... I love you, Tae. I don’t want to lose you... please".

At my words his whining stopped suddenly and he slowly raised his head to look me right in the eye "Do you... do you love me?"

I nodded. Now I didn’t care if he rejected me or not. I just wanted to be there for him and help him.

"You... love me..." he whispered again and slowly he brought his lips close to mine. He was kissing me sweetly. I could taste his salty tears but I didn’t care. His lips were so soft and warm. I had dreamed for years this moment and finally here we are... despite it was a desperate situation to stop expressing my feelings...

"You love me... and I love you..." he said weakly as he detached himself from my lips "How can you love a monster...? I don’t deserve you. You are magnificent... beautiful... how can you love a monster who couldn’t protect you, my princess, from the evil of the devil... I had to... I had to..." I kissed one more time so he wouldn’t keep talking.

"It’s not your fault. It’s his fault... I love you Tae and I don’t want you to destroy yourself because of him, because of his evil actions... You are...an angel..." He leans his forehead on my

"You are an angel, princess... but I swear to God. I swear by all the love I feel for you that I am done with that man! I will make him disappear forever. You will never hear from him again... I promise you..."

I kept staring at him, "He’s just a murderer! A monster! And I will protect you with everything I have from his intentions! You’ll never hear from V again."

I began to gently caress his cheek "You trusted that man so much... if there should ever be a trial against him... Your name might come up..." he grabbed my hand "There’s a reason I can assure you that it won’t cause any more trouble... I have a proof... and it’s this letter..." he said as he pulled an envelope out of his lab coat pocket.

"My Princess... I want you to have this letter. You decide whether or not to show it to the police. It’s from V and D it’s better to leave it in your hands. Do whatever you want with this. You’ll make the right choice... you’ve always done it... I no longer care about the fate of that man. He only brought tragedy and now he has completely lost my support."

I grabbed the letter and once I opened the envelope, I started reading it.

"I am sorry to have worried you. I was the beneficiary of the kindness of Dr. Kim for a long time. I am sorry I was not able to repay it. I have a safe and reliable system for my escape. You don’t have to worry about me anymore - Kim V"

"So... he left... did he really leave?" the letter had taken a burden off my heart. Maybe now without him in the neighborhood... Tae and I could live together peacefully.

"Yes... you’ll never hear something about him anymore. I promised... my love..." and he said that kissed me one last time.

"Then I’ll keep it with me for now and in case I conduct some other investigation"

"I trust you. I’ve always trusted all the choices you’ve made so far. Now let’s get off this floor. I start to feel sore in my knees" He took my hand and together we stood up.

"You know, Tae. I should probably go. I have some work to do and... But if you need me, I can always send them back to after" He shook his head "Nono go. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on... but thank you for coming all this way. That’s one of the many reasons why I’ve always loved you..." I reddened. To think that Tae and I have been feeling the same things for years but we have always been cowards in dealing with our feelings makes me laugh a bit. Better late than never, right?

Now I saw him slightly better now that he had let off steam, but still a frown in his expression still did not convince me that he had told me everything. Maybe we should just forget and move on?

"Ah, Tae. Before I go. I have to ask you something... In his house V kept a diary where he talked that he always hid from us, but he had been watching us for years and that he had finally freed himself? I don’t know what he was talking about or what he meant. But I got really weird when he talked about what happened at the party with Seokjin... but he wasn’t there. Tae, I need to know... have you known about him since we were young?" He suddenly swung and began to stagger, but before he could fall I ran to him to lean on me.

"Hey, Tae... don’t worry," I told him as I sat him in the chair he had in the lab.

"Sorry... these two days have been terrible and I did not take care of myself. I’m practically exhausted ah ah ah. I just need to rest."

"Tae Tae..."

"About your question before... I swear by all the love I have for you that I didn’t know him before. He suddenly appeared in my life like a lightning bolt. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me, but we both felt that there was something that bound us... as if we were... one person... but now he assures you. Forget his name and there will be no reason to remind you. Understood?"

I nodded as I grabbed his hand. It was so cold. He really needed to rest.

"Tae... I know you want to sleep now, but..."

"But, um..."

"... the terms of the will in case of your disappearance, it was V who threatened you and made you add them"

"Y/n... let’s say... yes..." I knew! That asshole must have threatened him with violence against him or those who love!!

"Tae... you’ve always been in danger. He wanted to kill you from the start!"

"Y/n...." and he lowered his head not to cross my gaze "That’s not the problem. I discovered something more important... something really very important..."

"Tae... "and I put my hand on his forehead. It was very hot. Probably the fever was leading him to total delirium.

"Tae... you’ll tell me at another time. Come with me... I’ll take you to bed in your room. You’ve been a damp room for too long. You need your strength back. Come with me."

I made him stand up and I gave him a hug around my shoulders to help him walk. Slowly we arrived in his room and I put him on his bed and tucked in his sheets. Feeling the softness of his mattress and pillow, Tae fell asleep immediately. Who knows what a bad time V had made him pass. But now I was one less problem. Finally he could rest and live peacefully. I gave him a kiss on the forehead and I left his room.

Jimin was waiting for me in the living room and as soon as he saw me, he ran towards me "So, Y/n? all right with the master?"

"Jimin... everything is fine with Tae. He had some thoughts going through his head but now he has calmed down and I put him to bed. Take care of him, he’s got a fever."

"Trust me. I’ll make him feel better and Dr. Kim who we all know will return!"

"I trust you" but before I could leave, something came to mind, "Jimin sorry... let me ask you a question. Did Tae between today and yesterday receive an envelope delivered by someone other than the postman? Do you know if V came by here to give him something?"

Jimin shook his head "Nothing was delivered except the usual mail. And there were no letters in between but only pamphlets and some bills. No one’s seen him in the last two days."

"I understand, thanks Jimin. I’ll be back soon to visit Tae and see how he’s doing. I know he’s not in good hands" and said that I went home.

It was late afternoon and I decided to light the fireplace. The crackling fire its heat was helping me to reflect on what had happened this morning with Tae. On the one hand I was glad that V had left and that Tae and I had confessed our mutual feelings but on the other hand I was worried... Was it really over? And that letter? Probably you gave it to Tae personally... it must have been that way. It was probably written in Tae’s studio. Better to be cautious and think carefully before acting. So I decided to call a trusted friend, Choi Yeonjun. He will definitely be able to analyze the handwriting. So I picked up the phone and called him.

"Hello, Yeonjun. How are you? I need your help tonight..."

That night

Yeonjun had just arrived at my house in a hurry. I had briefly explained to him what had happened and why I needed his service. He showed up as punctual as ever. He was a very respectable man and took his decisions seriously.

"Is this the letter with the calligraphy to analyze?" he asked me while I handed him the sheet "Yes, this is it. It’s a strange story and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the details, but for now I prefer to leave them out... it’s all quite confused..."

"Don’t worry, I understand your situation. It was all sudden and shocking for you I imagine. Especially with the death of Mr Kim Seokijin..."

A weight to my heart was felt on my chest. Thinking of his death made me angry. How dare V do such a cruel thing to him of his stupid and psycho fantasies?

"... the man who attacked him must be a madman"

"He’s crazy, Yeonjun. The letter I just gave you was written by him. I want the matter to stay with us for now, please. Because above all I still do not know what to do with it... V seems to have disappeared and the letter itself is useless right now. Anyway, I want you to take a look at it. From the writing of people you can understand many things..."

"Exactly. Trust me," he said while analyzing handwriting with the naked eye, "Calligraphy itself is readable, but very bizarre at the same time. See how he tends to lean to the left?" he said as he showed me, "...that’s not a normal way to write."

"You’re right. Is it.... strange?" But immediately after Yeonjun’s gaze he turned to a piece of paper that was on my table. I approached and began to study it "Excuse me if I ask you... but this is from Dr. Kim"?

"Yes why? It was the letter found near the cover of Seokjin. It was no big deal. Jungkook gave it to me when he drove me home yesterday. He just says that Tae would apologize on behalf of Jin for his behavior at a party he set up a long time ago."

"Well... it’s very interesting. There’s a very peculiar resemblance between the two calligraphies. The angle of the pen is a bit different"

"Really?"

"Sure. It’s weird... isn’t it?" Tae told me that he didn’t know V before then, but as soon as they met, he felt a kind of connection, as if they were... a single entity... their writing is similar... or are the words that Tae told me are really true or...

"Please. Don’t divulge what has been discovered. I need to reflect."

"I understand you. I’m leaving, but if I find anything else, you’ll be the first to know," and he left me alone in my thoughts.

"You bastard V! Tae forged a letter to favor V!" Why would you do that? You probably wanted to do him one last favor before he disappeared into the darkness?

I couldn’t think of anything. A terrible headache was starting to throb on my temples. Well, V had left right? It was no longer a problem and so it is useless to ask certain questions now. Better go to rest. If anything ever comes up on V again, it will be the first to intervene to stop it. Tae has suffered more than enough. And having said that, I sat down in my chair while the heat of the fire helped me relax. And that’s how I let myself go into a dreamless sleep.

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