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hyuckbeam · 1 year

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try again

things don’t seem to be going the way you’ve been wanting them to go the entire week. to make things even worse than they already are, your boyfriend (or rather ex-boyfriend) dumped you in front of the entire campus. you can’t seem to lift yourself up and try again — well, that is until he comes into your life.

pairing | college barista!jeno x college student!reader

genre | fluff, angst, college au

warnings + notes | afab!reader, a bit of cursing, ex-bf being a red flag, mentions of alcohol, roomie!ningning, that’s p much it!

wc | 5.1k words

a/n | im super duper excited to finally release this chapter of the tttc series!! personally, i just like the overall flow of this one and i hope u do too!! let me know what u think abt it :> as always, rbs, likes, and feedback are appreciated!

song recs | all 4 nothing - lauv, the loneliest time - carly rae jepsen, tfw (that feeling when) - enhypen

tttc m.list, main m.list

the first time you met him was seriously by coincidence.

your stomach had you hurling for the past few days, not to mention how sore you were from phys-ed class yesterday. you still remember asking your coach to let you off the hook for the day, but they denied your request – oh well, they were never a great teacher anyways, you think to yourself. your own boyfriend hadn't even checked up on you once to ask if you were doing alright. it’s not like you were going to burden him or anything… you just wanted a little bit of reassurance to get you through the week. was that so much to ask for?

as if all odds were finally in your favor, a light buzz from your phone snaps you out of your thoughts. you pick it up to see your boyfriend’s caller id. maybe this was it. maybe the gods finally heard your pleas to make life just a teensy bit bearable for you.

“hey, i think we should meet up for a moment. do you have time?” is the first thing he’s told you all week and for some reason, instead of the comfort you were anticipating, all you felt was sheer annoyance. not even a simple how are you? the lack of emotion he’s displayed just breaks your heart even more than it already is.

you still manage to reply, mimicking his dry tone instinctively. “yeah, where?” it's faint, but you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a little hope in you. maybe he wants to meet in person to give you a hug, maybe a kiss? you desperately want that to be true.

“at the campus open grounds, you know, the one near that coffee shop?” he suggests through the call and you once your head despite him not even being able to see you. “okay, i’ll see you then.”

you couldn’t even believe he just asked if you knew where the open grounds were located. doesn’t he remember that’s the place he asked you out? perhaps it was an important event only to you. the thought manages to send a dry chuckle out your throat — it already didn’t seem like your little meetup with him was going to be of any help to your mood.

not much time had passed by the time you arrived at the chosen spot, setting your sights on a nearby bench to rest your feet as you waited.

a lot of people crowded the grounds today. it wasn’t usually this jam-packed, but you suppose the bright and sunny weather encouraged people to roam around outside. after all, the sky hadn’t been this pretty shade of vibrant blue in a while. you’re thankful the weather is good — at least something seems to be turning out well today.

your boyfriend arrives, albeit later than expected, even though he was the one who asked you to come out in the first place. you had been scorched by the sun’s rays for over ten minutes now, wanting nothing more than to just head back indoors.

“sorry i uh… took a while. i’ll make this short.” he states awkwardly, a bit too much considering you were dating. “i’m breaking up with you. i just fell out of love, you know that feeling, right?” your relationship was never the best, this was inevitably going to happen someday, but hearing it out loud was what did it for you.

out loud… wait. you look around to find practically everyone around you whispering to themselves, watching the scene between you and your boyfriend unfold — eating it up like it's the plot of a famous drama.

the shame, the anger, the embarrassment, you just wanted to get away from it all. the hope you gained earlier was all an illusion. your days weren’t going to get any better as the week just became like the stuff that comes out of nightmares. you utterly felt sick to the bottom of your stomach. not only did you get dumped, you got dumped in front of so many people.

without saying another word to your boyfriend — or should you say ex-boyfriend — you grab your things and take a run towards the nearest alleyway that just happened to be the one at the back of the coffee shop.

you crouch down to the floor, curling up into yourself as best as you could before finally letting emotions overtake you, just enough to calm you down. surely no one would find you here if you let out a tear or two, right?

wrong. whoever put that idea to your brain was a big dumbass (whoever being you) because a boy emerges through the shop’s backdoor and into the alleyway, presumably taking out the trash since he’s holding a familiar-looking black plastic bag. however, he quickly stops in his tracks, noticing your presence when there was usually no one else there. the alley was pretty dark after all – it gave most people the creeps but here you were, willingly occupying a small portion of the horrid area while bawling your eyes out. “um… i don’t usually do this, but do you want a cup of hot chocolate?” the guy offers, rubbing his nape sheepishly after noticing your tear-stained cheeks.

you can’t help but silently thank him for not bringing up your appearance in the conversation. you probably looked like a disheveled tomato by now, prompting you to wipe your tears with your arm to at least make yourself look presentable. “actually… yeah, that would be nice.”

you got a better look at him now that you were seated in the cafe, the warm lighting easing your nerves little by little. as expected of him, there’s a welcoming aura that surrounds his figure, a calm smile that’s sure to brighten up anyone’s day (including yours), a tiny little mole below his eye, and the shiniest hair that made you want to touch it — that probably wasn’t the most appropriate thought you’ve had all day.

what you didn’t expect was that he’d actually give that cup of hot chocolate free of charge. you didn’t even know who he was (and probably vice versa). still, it made you gain back a little bit of hope that was lost. with a soft smile now spread across your lips, you begin to ponder that maybe today could still turn out to be better for you.

-0-

the rest of your day goes better than anticipated, and you’re beginning to think that barista you met at the coffee shop is some sort of miracle worker or a lucky charm. even if he wasn’t, you sure do feel lucky you ran into him – though the situation wasn’t exactly the most ideal in hindsight. still, the thought manages to keep your spirits high all the way until you reach back to your dorm.

“ning yizhuo!” your sudden call turns two heads in the room, one being the said person, and the other being her cousin, renjun. the latter often came by and you were quite used to his presence and practically saw him as a brother.

“oh no, not the government name!” a sarcastic tone laces your roommate’s voice. truthfully, she had already heard about your breakup and was expecting you to be bawling your eyes right about now… except… you weren’t. in fact, you had a beaming smile displayed for everyone to see. weird – renjun had probably thought the exact same thing as they gave each other identical looks.

this goes completely unnoticed by you, dropping your bags before making yourself comfortable by the couch. “seriously, you guys won’t believe what happened earlier.”

“... you got dumped?” renjun voices out slowly, almost as if he’s testing the waters still.

“no! i mean yes, but that’s not what i was going to talk about.”

“why aren’t we talking about that? your ex was a douche- i can finally talk shit about him!” ningning cheers.

renjun clears his throat, “more importantly though, are you really fine?”

his words linger in your head for a bit. were you really okay? genuinely speaking, you didn’t feel much – probably because you expected your relationship to fall out eventually. both of you wanted different things and came to realize that. there was an underlying feeling of gratitude that your ex finally cut through the cracks of your bond, but you could definitely do without all the public shame though. that might continue to haunt you, but what’s done, was done.

“mhm, i’m really fine. i’ll get over him sooner or later.” you answer softly. both renjun and ningning could tell you were certain, silently agreeing within themselves to drop the topic completely. “but gosh, i probably wouldn’t have been able to make it through the day if it weren’t for that barista guy in the coffee shop.

you see renjun’s ears visibly perk up at the mention of a barista there, like he already knew who you were referring to. “do you mean the guy who works there? y’know, the one who kind of looks like a fluffy white dog and has a mole under his eye?” god, was he spot on with the description too.

“that’s him!” you gasp out, still in slight shock. you suppose renjun frequents the shop – especially since that’s where he and his girlfriend go to study. “huang renjun, are you psychic?”

that seems to bring out a snort in him, “you just knew that now?” he remarks rather playfully, “actually, his name is jeno. we’ve been friends for a pretty long while now.”

ah, so his name is jeno. you wouldn’t tell anyone, but you mayhaps ingrained that piece of information straight to your heart.

the second time you met him, you just wanted to see him one more time after.

ever since you learned about his name from renjun, he seemed to pop up in almost every conversation you engaged with. was he always this popular or were you just really ignorant to the people around you? it’s crazy how much you’ve been thinking about him ever since.

“put a finger down if you’ve gotten butterflies from a stranger!” frankly, you’re startled at the command, forgetting that you were in the middle of a ‘never have i ever’ game with your group of friends. jeno just so happened to be there too since your friend groups actually aligned well within each other. with him personally being around, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything except him. it’s the nudge ningning aims at your shoulder that gets you placing a finger down, remembering you’re still part of the game. you suppose your brief interaction with jeno does count as part of this…

this small action had the entire group cooing. it was a bit overwhelming, not knowing what to do when so many eyes were set on you. wanting to brush it off, you simply give a shy smile to the crowd, persuading them to not go any further and just continue on with the game. luckily, that’s exactly what they do and you’re met with sweet relief – finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in the first place.

still, your gaze shifts back at jeno. had he realized you were the person that bawled their eyes out in the back alleyway of the coffee shop? had he realized you were the one he offered a free cup of hot chocolate to? had he realized you were staring at him like he held the entire universe in his hands?

but most importantly, had you realized he was looking back at you the same way? no? maybe that’s for the best.

the air was getting too stuffy in the room for your liking, you had to excuse yourself out for some fresh air. it was already pretty dark out and you weren’t sure when your friends would finally call it a night. frankly, the breeze was much colder now (and you kind of regret not bringing a jacket out), but at the same time it was calming and quiet – a sharp contrast to the lively atmosphere held inside.

that serene silence was cut off by the faint sound of footsteps coming from the main door, jeno’s figure coming into view. what was he doing out here?

“hey… inside got too much, huh?” guess you and him share that opinion as you nod in agreement.

“a little?” your nose scrunches up at the thought. “i don’t usually mind it but it does get me swamped sometimes.”

a small hum is what comes out as a reply, the both of you opting for the comfortable silence the night bears. a few ruffling sounds are heard coming from jeno and before you could ask him what was making the noise, you felt warmth embrace you from behind. it was a jacket. not just any jacket, his jacket.

“sorry, did i startle you? it’s just, you looked cold.” truth be told, you were far from cold after his gesture. isn’t this something someone would do when they’re in a relationship? why was jeno doing this… with you?

it was then you unconsciously already had your mind made up. you weren’t going to acknowledge it yet, but you were completely over your ex.

-0-

there was absolutely no chance of you getting sleep that night, especially after the events beforehand. though you enjoyed every moment you spent with jeno, you kinda preferred having a full night’s worth of sleep right about now. it’s a good thing ningning was able to grace you with a cup of coffee as soon as you woke up — you don’t think you would have gotten out of bed otherwise.

“seriously, what’s up with you two!” ningning squints her eyes with suspicion glazed over them, trying to get some sort of answer regarding your situation with jeno.

“it’s not what you think it is.”

“then what is it?”

huh. she had a point there. just what is your relationship with lee jeno? it was a little foggy to yourself as well. the both of you never had much conversations, but when you did, they managed to send cupid arrows straight to your heart without fail. this was so much unlike your past relationship. when was the last time you ever felt this way?

“it’s just small conversations, that’s all it is.” you finally reply, words acting more like a reminder to yourself rather than an actual response to ningning’s query.

“is that really true?” your roommate frowns with a sigh, “you know, i noticed the way he looks at you. it’s different from others.”

“you’re probably mistaking his kindness for something else, ning. i doubt this’ll even lead to anything.” your statement is brief, but ningning manages to catch the light thread of hope in your words, understanding you wished it would lead to more. that’s all she needed to know. she knew better than to push you just to ease her own mind from the heapload of questions she has stored away.

“just know, whatever happens, i’ll always support you, okay?” she smiles brightly like the gentle rays of sunshine that slip through your dorm’s sill curtains. “okay.”

the third time you met him, you wished for nothing more but to remain in his company.

it’s just midday and you already feel like falling asleep. naturally, your feet bring you to the campus coffee shop, not registering the fact that jeno’s probably working his shift. in this moment, you were too sleep deprived to care.

“hi, can i get one chocolate chip frappucino-” you finally look up to see jeno’s familiar face right in front of you, recallings of the night before plaguing your thoughts and sending a surge of adrenaline in your body. suddenly, you were wide awake and could probably last the whole day with or without the coffee you were about to purchase.

“y/n, it’s nice to see you.” he greets softly, eyes scanning your features to find dark bags staining your usually lively eyes. “i think i’ll add another shot of espresso to your drink… you might need it.” he mutters out, more so to himself.

you can’t help but smile, finding his slight worry for your well-being to be endearing. “i’ll add that espresso shot then.” you chuckle, catching him off guard as he didn’t expect you to hear him.

“i’ll make sure to prepare your drink well.” he finally replies, punching in your order as you move to find a seat to occupy while you wait.

it doesn’t take long for jeno to approach your table, a drink with a swirly straw in hand. to your surprise, instead of simply dropping off the drink, he takes the seat in front of yours before setting it down. “i’m actually on my break right now but i wanted to talk to you. i hardly see you on campus after all. aside from when you visit here, that is.” it’s almost laughable at how predictable your response is to anything he does, feeling your stomach gain the now familiar fluttery sensation you always experience. when it comes to him, it seems to never get old, but none of that was the main point.

he wanted to talk to you. he went out of his way for you. he could be spending his break time elsewhere, but he’s here with you. perhaps you were overanalyzing his actions, yet you can’t stop the heat that creeps up your cheeks.

“sure, take a seat- i mean, you already did but-”

he chuckles, a slip of a smile coming into view. “your drink by the way.” he motions at the sweet drink you ordered. “i added more chocolate chips for you too.”

“spoiling me now, are we?”

“you caught me!”

talking to him just felt so natural. there was never a dull moment, and when silence would fill up the air, it was never thick and heavy, but light and freeing. you quietly sip your drink to these thoughts, occasionally wondering if this would be what it felt like if you two started dating- you’re thinking too ahead for someone who hasn’t even come to terms with their own feelings. you should just enjoy your time with him.

-0-

since then, you and jeno have grown closer to the point where you frequently talk on the phone at night. neither of your paths often crossed during the day, so these calls definitely made up for that – at least for you. through them, you’ve come to learn that jeno usually plays video games until the crack of dawn, sometimes even streaming his screen for you to watch. tonight, you decided to prepare ramen for yourself so you had something to eat while watching him.

“what flavor are you making today?” his voice is a lot huskier than it usually is during the night.

though this isn’t something new to you, there’s still that cozy feeling that almost feels domestic, and sometimes, you can’t help but squeal to yourself and kick your feet in the air. ningning even asked if you were alright because she thought you had gone crazy after hearing you from her own room.

“i think this one is cheese flavored? i’m not really sure since ning buys our groceries.”

“you should prepare me some when i come over next time. i wanna try some too.”

did he want to come over? your mind immediately fills with the idea of jeno visiting your dorm (or humble abode as ningning likes to call it). he’s seen glimpses of it as your background when you’d facetime each other, but what would he think about seeing it in person? there’s that famous saying that your home reflects your personality, after all. you don’t realize it, but you go dead silent, completely encapsulated by your imagination.

“hello? you’re still there, right?” he calls out for you, it’s much softer this time as if he’s checking up on you in case something happened.

“yeah, yeah i’m here. come over next time, then.”

he does, in fact, come over as soon as he got the chance to. honestly, he resembled an eager golden retriever exploring a new area the entire time you showed him around your dorm, having only seen it through a screen. on some occasions, he would point out a random trinket you had on display, saying it looked like you. he said the same about your potted succulent and you’re not sure how you feel about that one, but nonetheless, he seemed to be enjoying himself and that’s all that mattered. you were practically worried over nothing the other night.

“didn’t you say you were going to prepare me a little treat too?” jeno questions, finally finished with going around the dorm room.

“hm? oh, right the ramen-” you recall, immediately taking a few steps to the kitchen to prepare what you had promised him. “make yourself comfortable, i won’t take long!” it really doesn’t take much to make instant ramen, after all.

once it finishes boiling, you carefully transfer it to one of those gold-colored, aluminum pots to keep the ramen warm – making sure to add a few toppings to the dish to make it a bit more filling.

you make your way to the living room, seeing jeno on his phone by the couch. there’s that domestic feeling worming its way up on you again that has you wondering how it’d be like if jeno was your boyfriend. would he come visit over often? would you be able to visit his dorm sometime? the thought continues to remain on your mind for the entirety of jeno’s stay.

you really wanted this moment to become just as frequent as your nightly calls with him.

the most recent time you met up with him, you finally acted on what you’ve been holding in all this time.

ningning had invited you out to a party, luring you in by slipping that a certain someone was also going to be there. all jokes aside, you knew she also just wanted you to have fun, it’s been a while since you’ve gone out to a party anyways.

the event wasn’t anything fancy, your average college party hosted by one of the frats. you wore a black mini dress, one you bought but never got the chance to use until now. it fit you perfectly in all the right areas, but it took a lot of convincing from ningning’s part for you to actually buy it. you surely had to thank her now or else you wouldn’t have anything to wear for tonight.

“you’re finally wearing it!” it seems you weren’t the only one excited to see yourself wearing the dress as your roommate’s eyes sparkle at your outfit. “here, here. i’m letting you borrow these too since they match.” she hands over a pair of black earrings made with sequins and glass beads. it looked perfect for the look.

“thanks, it isn’t too much, right?”

“not at all! plus, it’s a party. who cares what others think- what’s important is that you look good!”

this makes you let out a small laugh, she was right. she always is. “okay then, let’s go?”

“lets!” ningning takes her purse from the coffee table before linking her free arm around yours. “we should get going if we don’t want to be late.”

it’s a good thing you both left when you did since the two of you arrived just on time. the party had already started a few minutes ago with some people already wasted (they probably drank before everything even started…). it doesn’t take long for you and ningning to manage through the sea of people, finally spotting a couple of familiar faces by the corner of the room.

“hey, you two made it!” renjun beams alongside his girlfriend, a plastic red cup in hand containing who knows what. “oh y/n, jeno’s by the kitchen. he was asking where you were before you arrived.”

“oh? thanks jun, i’ll go see what’s up.” you offer him a small smile before leaving ningning’s side and trying to find where the kitchen was located. after a bit of roaming around, you eventually find the boy you’re looking for.

cheeks flushed, dazed eyes, and a lopsided expression. jeno was probably no where clear from sober by the looks of it. guess you weren’t going to drink today, especially when your friend isn’t in the right state of mind.

“jeno? renjun said you were looking for me.” you call out to him softly in hopes he could hear you through the music that’s blasting on the speaker system.

by the sound of your voice, his head quickly turns in your direction. “y/n! i’ve bween looking por you everywhere!” he immediately wraps his arms around your figure, burying his head in the crook of your neck. your cheeks have flushed now too, not from alcohol, but because of the way he’s hugging you.

you never imagined jeno to be big on skinship while under the influence – well, you’ve never dealt with a tipsy jeno in general until now, so this was truly going to be one hell of an experience.

“have you, really?” you question him, patting his hair. “i’m here now though. did you need me for something?”

you feel him nod against your shoulder, “i wanted to kiss you but you were nooowhere to be found, and then renjun gave me a drink, and then haechan started laughing, and then i started laughing-”

he was beginning to ramble off and probably won’t remember any of the things he’s telling you right now. would that also include how he just confessed he wanted to kiss you? you know jeno’s just drunk, but there’s a part of you that hopes he wouldn’t forget that. you urge him to stand up straight for a moment before letting him lean onto you for support. the best you could do was probably have him sit outside for some fresh air (and maybe a cup of water).

-0-

the two of you are now seated silently next to one another with jeno’s head resting on your shoulder, and it’s reminiscent of the first time you actually had a proper conversation with him. the night was just like this, and yet, so many things have happened already since then.

“hey, about what i said earlier…” oh, he sobers up rather quickly. “y’know, about the wanting to kiss you and all that.”

you turn to face him with a bittersweet expression, the nearby streetlamp placing a soft glow over your features and jeno wonders where that solemn look on your face is coming from. “hm? no it’s alright. i’m sure we all say things we don’t mean when we get drunk. it’s normal.”

“well no, because, i did mean it.”

“that’s okay- huh?”

“i like you, y/n.” although its dark, you know he’s staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

“i… i do too, but we just met like a month ago.” you hadn’t even come to terms with your own feelings yet. “wouldn’t we be, i don’t know, going a little too fast? maybe both of us aren’t currently in the right mind.”

“that just proves my point even more. in a mere month of us getting to knowing each other, i’ve come to learn so much about you, grown so fond of you, and… i just want to be with you. trust me, i had a lot of time to think, but if you need more time. i’ll wait for you.”

now you were conflicted. did you really need more time to understand your own emotions?it’s not like you hid your affection for the boy, instead, it was quite the contrary. people started looking for you through jeno and others asked you about jeno’s whereabouts. its as if you two were now two peas in a pod, and everyone knew. were you going to break something you cherished just because you felt like your emotions hadn’t been sorted, when in reality, have been perfectly laid out right in front of you all along?

“no. no need.” your eyes crease as you smile at him, “i know what i want, and it’s you. it’s always been you.”

he doesn’t need any more validation than this, snaking his arm around your waist before pulling you close, lips barely touching. “can i kiss you?”

“please.” you surely don’t need to tell jeno twice, wasting no time as he quickly locks your lips with his own in such a way that you’d think he’s been pining over you longer than you had originally thought. you hadn’t drank a drop the entire night, but you felt so giddy just kissing him.

jeno pulls away first, and you already feel breathless from such a short kiss. slowly, he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing small, comforting circles onto your skin. “should we head back now?” honestly, you didn’t want to just yet, still unable to hide your smile from the lingering touch of his lips. still, you knew better than to stay out for too long.

“yeah, the others are probably wondering where we went.” and with that, he pulls himself off the ground, extending a hand out to help you get on your feet.

“let’s go back in… slowly, okay?” you giggle out, still wanting to cherish the moment with him.

“how could i say no to you?”

eventually, you do make it back into the party, quickly spotting your group of friends.

the sight of you both sporting puffy lips and rosy tinted cheeks, not to mention your lipstick smudged on the corner of jeno’s lips had everyone raising a brow. neither of you had noticed that because it was so dark out… um, oopsies?

ningning manages to connect all the dots together, a loud gasp erupting from her that startles the rest of the group. “OMG DON’T TELL ME! no wait actually please do confirm- PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE TOGETHER?”

you and jeno look at each other with a knowing look, feeling his hand reach out for yours before you happily reply, “yeah, we are.”

taglist | @haeravlgs, @matchahyuck, @vantxx95, @ahnneyong, @lixxbr0wnie, @legbouk, @rocarecs, @winwonies, @gfrdistance

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unikivrse · 5 months

Text

my christmas spirit

୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ⋆ 엔하이픈 ( 리키 ) + gnreader!oc (*≧∀≦*) content fluff established relationship slight angst foreign student reader minor kissing warning skinship dragged swearing & 2.1k bookshelf 𖥔 ࣪

🗒 to say i hate this would be an understatement but i hope im just being harsh on myself. anyway hope everyone has a merry ‎christmas :D tysm @nqvgue for helping me get the storyline straight ;-;

The softness of the late December snow was nothing but comfort to the procrastination filled Wednesday evening. Volunteering at the hospital as an apprentice was hectic in the winter. Whether it was because the wards you worked in were jam packed with festive injuries or maybe it was your crippling vitamin D deficiency that kept you from having the energy to work efficiently. All you could do was grasp the warm, hot chocolate mug as you melted into your uniformed legs that were hiked up on the break room sofa, gripping onto the last bits of consciousness you had, blinking profusely to try and stop yourself from passing out.

Lately you have been missing home. Missing that one thing that made you excited for the bitter days at the end of the year. Missing him. You hated getting soppy at work as you normally ended up crying in front of patients but there was something about the holidays that made you even more overwhelmed with appreciation. Riki had been working so hard, attending meeting after meeting, fan sign after video shoot and album signing after performances. You felt bad that YOU were so bothered by his work, by the state he visited you in. Falling into tidied sheets with an untidied attitude or drifting off to sleep whenever you were on call. You wanted to spend Christmas with him but it was like he wasn't there. The guilt of feeling jealous when he spent more time on weverse doing fan service than doing relationship service got too much to the point he snapped in front of you for constantly complaining about his exhausted state. You understood he was tired but you couldn’t help but to envy all the couples doing fun activities whilst you were stuck with dead legs by the weight of your passed out boyfriend's head.

You and Riki never argued. If you did it was always about the most mundane of things like who's turn it was to wash up or what position you were going to sleep in. Never anything serious. Never anything that kept you up at night crying over the look he gave you. You two had been pretty distant for about a week and a half at this point. You never stopped checking in on each other of course, its not like you stopped loving him but there was no effort for a conversation. You thought if you just let him get on with it, his schedule would die down and you'd have the same devilish boyfriend again but nothing came of it. Distracting yourself was the only thing that kept you from panicking as the big day came closer and there was still no sign of improvement. Your friends told you to have some 'christmas spirit' as your mood appeared drained but to be honest it was like Riki was the only Christmas spirit you could focus on. Like a ghost haunting you in the background. Living by yourself in a foreign country at such a young age was pretty difficult especially when all your friends had people to go home to. Riki was all you had and your mind soon filled with the possibility of spending the cold Christmas eve night alone and waking up alone and baking alone. He was never the confrontational type so maybe he was just scared you'd say something and start to pick a fight again?!

"Y/N…” your breath hitched as your senior caught you off-guard. "Hmm?" you squeezed out, trying to locate your voice whilst making eye contact. "You can go home early today" the corners of her mouth slowly turned upwards "I know you've been having a rough time lately, Merry Christmas". Suddenly the heaviness in your eyes released, offering a smile back “Merry Christmas.” You gripped on to the arms of the sofa, slowly lifting yourself to your feet, gathering your belongings.

And just like that, you were rummaging thorough your bag trying to find your schools dorm keys, happy to end the day. Often, days would end with you and Riki curled up in your bed watching horror films or playing animal crossing together but without him, days just merged together and became faint memories. You shakingly opened your door, stumbling as you took off your coat and shoes, discarding your bag and making a run for the kitchen. You don't remember when your fainting spells became so debilitating but you definitely weren't doing well. The shadowed look of your apartment didn't help, resulting in you bumping into cabinets and letting out little ouches along the way. You needed something sugary. Or at least water else you were going to become a pathetic pile on the floor. "Where the fuck-". You were usually pretty good at navigating in the dark but to be honest you weren't doing so well today. You finally let your ego be broken and turned to the light switch in order to fulfill your lightheaded desires. Sighing, you stomped your way over to your sweets cupboard. “Please i will take anything..” you whined, fidgeting around in a spotted tin.

“Ehem.” A deep, raspy voice that didn’t belong to you pierced into your heart, making it drop. You whipped your head around to see your sly, concerned boyfriend staring at you as he leaned against the countertop. “Don’t look so scared” he scoffed, “you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. He approached smirking, but as he got further that smug face he wore dropped, “why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost? You are so pale!” his hand slid around your waist as he towered over you with concern. “Probably because i was just on the verge of passing out only to be scared by my boyfriend who i haven’t seen in ages. I don’t know just a thought” you squeezed out, gripping onto his biceps as your tunneled vision turned into the outro of the century and your legs began to fold. “Oh my god.. have you been working-” and in that moment, you could no longer hold up the facade of JUST making it back to your dorm, as if the mere touch of him was more than homely to you, allowing you to finally pass out. Right there, in his arms. Obviously you hadn’t put any thought into that. How could you? But seeing you this vulnerable, this fragile broke Riki’s heart in ways he never experienced before.

A subtle mumbling of what seemed to be your television teased your consciousness and senses back into existence, as you soon felt the warmth of your boyfriend’s arms around your torso, hands intertwined in your limp fingers. “Hey, you alright?” he whispered after seeing your newly gained awakening. You couldn’t help but to chuckle a little, after days of not communicating with each other, pondering in the silence that surrounded your relationship, he still spoke to you and held you with the same softness.“I’m sorry”. That’s all you could say. After all the screaming and huffing you shared nights ago all you could do was apologise. He deserved it after all, he had been working hard because this was his dream and you couldn’t help but to be selfish about it. “Me too.” he pouted, leaning into your starstruck face as he did so. “I should’ve spent more time with you and i understand why you were so upset”. Your eyes must of twinkled with the way you were looking at him because before you could even come up with a response to protect his being, he pressed the most gently kiss you ever had on your newly swollen, rested lips. He took his time with it, not pulling back or moving but just enjoying being next to you again. As if it was instinct, your lips turned into a smile and your cheeks became cherry red, you needed to say something, anything, “I guess i just missed you, like a lot and i would have never wanted to make you feel bad about doing your job, especially after working so hard for it but i was just so jealous” you proclaimed after detaching your lips from his. Even the simplest look from his eyes made you feel weary again, as if you were going for round two of passing out. “I guess I missed you too which is why i broke into your apartment to surprise you” he scoffed “but you obviously had other ideas.” Surprise?! “What type of surprise?” you shuffled with excitement, now leaning mostly on him, eyes beaming with curiosity. “Well i was going to do loads of christmas activities with you-” you gasped making him smile, “BUT i thought i’d save that for christmas day and i’ve found something much more worth my time, plus i don’t want you overworking yourself considering the state you’ve gotten yourself into without me” he held your cheek, just staring at you as you repeatedly slapped his arm. Eyes widening you couldn’t help but to screech “TELL ME! TELL ME WHAT IT IS”. It had been a week without anything remotely good occurring and with your overwhelming amount of love for christmas that had been such a letdown, hearing him say that just threw you over the edge as if you were having a psychotic breakthrough. “Hmm i don’t know if i should show you now or laterrr.” he teased, comically scratching his chin whilst turning his attention to the top left corner of your bedroom ceiling. “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE RIKI” it was so embarrassing how much you needed this right now but you couldn’t help the childish wonders that filled your head. Riki was such a creative gift giver so next thing you knew, you were thinking about him handing you a small teacup sized kitten or relaxing on a white sanded beach together or flipping through a photo album that help all your memories in. “OKAY fine!” he moaned sarcastically, sliding his hand down into his trouser pocket. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until i say you can, even when i start talking.” You nodded, just wanting to find out what it was already. Closing your eyes you heard him clear his throat.

“I don’t know whether you have been feeling the same way i have lately but seeing you so desperate to spend time with me messed me up Y/n. It made me imagine a future where you were tired of waiting up all night for me to wake up or get to yours, a future where you decided enough was enough. I genuinely want you to know i’m here for the long run. Yes, i know we are SO young but i'm not sure i would have gotten so far without you. Which is why i want to promise that i’m gonna stay, that i'm going to try my hardest to show you all the things i think about and tell you how much you mean to me.” You had never heard Riki be so vocal and hearing the desperation and honesty in his words would have made you tear up if your eyes weren’t closed right now. He sniffed. Was he crying? “You can open your eyes now” he whispered. Your eyes automatically searched for his which were now damp and red but you also saw what he was holding. A rose quarts gem mounted on a woven silver band, nestled in the navy velvet box with the words ‘time is only well spent with the promise of you’ engraved into it. To be more than honest, this is not what you were expecting at all. You had never shown any type of materialistic mannerisms to Riki but this was more than that. More then a ring. And with that, you were bawling your eyes out, grasping the very hands that held it. “This is my promise to you. A promise that no matter how far or for how long we are apart from each other, i won’t give up on us.” Lips quivering, you made eye contact with him only to fall into his arms, heart pounding and mouth wailing. You had never felt so hopeful, so grateful. Sure, there was a lot of things you needed to talk about but in this moment of utter emotion, his arms wrapped around you, you felt the warmth of humanity and the passion that came with it. Christmas would soon be even more special as you got to spend it with the most heartful person you could have ever imagined, you were just glad it was him you would be experiencing it with.

taglist OPEN @nqvgue

#˚.✦ unikivrse꙳ ༘#im going to cry this is so cringe #thank you to ichiko aoba #niki x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enha x reader #enha fluff #enhypen niki #enhypen nishimura riki #niki fluff #niki ff #niki fanfic #niki imagines #kpop fanfic

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bonesandthebees · 9 months

Note

OH G9D IM ALREAYD AT THIS CHAPTER?@,$$(#;$?= IM ABOUT TO GO YO WORK I CANT REAF THIS NOW WELPDJFGKF

OH GODDD DBRTMLSJFTKFM

At least im prepared for it this time o7

30 mins... is that enough time for me to emotionally kill myself and then come back again

God can u imagine seeing these sketches irl?? Like if hats became a film and we got to see the sketchbook?? Rahhhs

Ooohhh i can imagine the cover of the book being one of tommys sketches omg...

IM GONNA CRYY THEYRE ALL SO SWEET SOBS

I really reallyyy wanna read the phil scene but that scene would be sm better reading in bed and the whole point of me rereading the whole fic was so i could get the proper emotional experience FJFKFK

I will be patient o7

Okay im finally home

Much later than i was expecting bc i ended up going out for drinks with my friend (first time I ever had a margarita... holyshit it was so good wtf) but im still committed to finishing hats tonight

IM IN THE MOOD FOR ANGSTT

I put on my angst playlist without even realizing it bc it's really good background musicdjfkfkd im really picky w what music i play while reading (i find it hard to focus) but i have this one playlist that works Really Well... it also is just jam packed with a bunch of highly emotional songs that make the entire scene sn more painful...

Perfect :D

OH GOD IM NOT READY OH GOD OH FUCK

LMFAOFJFJF awww

Smol tommy:(( eueueu

IM GONNA SCREAM AAAAA ADBFNFJEJFK

OOOHHH FUVJKJSJFKFIDJFJF

FAVOURITES ALBUM .

IM SO ILL IM SOOO ILL I AM NOT OKAY I AM NOTTYISUEOFODHSIDH EXPLODES

CRIES

WAILS

OOUHHH MYG FOSODHSKGJDBD OHMGYDOHOGMHUDPHMYGODU LGHD

Hand over mouth i am so not okay tears in my eyes heart is cracking into tiny little pieces

AAAAAAAAAAAAA IM GOING TO CRYYYYYYY AAAAAAA IM CRYING ACTUALLY FCJGKHKGKG FUCKKK THIS HURTS SO BAD BUT ITS SO GOOD I LVOE THIS FIC SO MUCH OHNKUHDO:((( I CANT DO THIS

I'd love to see these sketches irl they're so specific in my head rahhh I just can't draw for shit 😭

margaritas are very good I especially love strawberry margaritas

this chapter was so intense to write. I knew how I wanted that confrontation scene to go down but I still got so swept up in the emotions of it all and was trying to balance the dialogue and narration so carefully. the 'he hated-' bit especially was really hard to get just right but I'm so so proud of how it turned out

I'm also rereading this chapter a bit so I can get context for your messages and damn that last line. forgot I wrote that I'm proud of myself lol

#ask #icyfox17 #honey and tangerines

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steeleidolon · 1 year

Text

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

Name: X, Steel

Pronouns: she/they

Preference of communication: Tumblr IMs are okay (ooc only)--they tend to eat messages though. Discord on request!

Name of muse(s): For the FF7 fandom--Kunsel (this blog), Vincent, Freyja (Shotgun from Before Crisis), and a handful of others by request.

Experience/how long (months/years?): Oh good grief, making me date myself here. I picked up RP/fan writing as a hobby in... 98/99? High school. I’m cringing.

Platforms you’ve used: Forums, LiveJournal (DeadJournal), AOL/AIM, MSN, Skype, ICQ, IRC, RPN, Yahoo Groups, straight-up email, various MMORPGs, Tabletop RPGs, LARP, uhhh. Tumblr and Discord. I’m sure there’s some I’m forgetting.

Pet peeves / dealbreakers: Lack of communication/collaboration. I love a give and take -- it's what we're here for, right?

Fluff, angst, or smut: Sure! Angst, conflict, resolution, a dash of fluff, a dash of spice. Something something cake-and-eat-it-too. Apart from memes I don’t typically do smut for smut’s sake, but sometimes the mood strikes. Same goes for blood and gore and all that.

Plots or memes: Both. Memes are great icebreakers. They’re also great for flashbulb perspectives of ongoing interactions. Overarching plots are my jam; I love world building and character building, narrative details, themes...

Long or short replies: Whatever a) feels right and b) gives all parties involved something to work with and keep the scene moving. Admittedly I’m not great at replying to one-liners since my brain goes ‘DRESS THE SCENE,’ but hey, something to work on. :)

Best time to write: Quiet hours without any other pressing responsibilities. That can be... um. Whenever o’clock.

Are you like your muse(s): Haha, uhhh. Am I amused by googly eyes? Yes. Otherwise--eh?

#ooc #happy new years folks

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galaxofmuses · 2 years

Text

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

NAME: Astra

PRONOUNS: They/Them Xe/Xem

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: I don’t mind ims, but if you want full conversation I prefer Discord

NAME OF MUSE(S): Sonic”Sky/Skyler”, Miles “Tails” Prower, Knuckles, Ace Cooper

EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): Oh boy uhhh for a very long time like since early 2000s?? 19 years....dang man.

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: AOL Ims, Livejournal, Gaia Online, Tumblr, Discord. I’ve been through everywhere! :D

BEST EXPERIENCE: Already said this before, Meeting my whole MMX rp group crew! I honestly don’t regret nothing!

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: Gosh uhhh honestly passive aggressive ooc posts like that’s just gaslit bullying and that just leads to either lack of communication, or something is a miss. Communication is heckin important and especially when it comes to this collaborative hobby.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: lmao smut is rare for me and uhhh I don’t do it cuz I’m horrible at it and i’m heckin selective on who. Fluff and Angst are my absolute jam! I always love sad moments that blossom into fluff or other way around! It’s always so fun for me!

PLOTS OR MEMES: Why not both? Both of them are great ice breakers for me!

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Depends on my mood honestly, unless if i’m really passionate about a reply, but heck sometimes I write too fast that I notice my mistakes too late lmao, but I don’t mind either.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: Morning and sometimes Night!

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): Sonic? Man I wish I was free-spirited with no worries, but competitive side? maybe slightly on that? Compassion side? oh yes absolutely I can vibe with that! Dunno about being short tempered like Knuckles tho yet ahfjksd. Tails? Oh my glob absolutely! I connected with Tails since I was a kid in the 90s and his personality is quite close to home for me. I just wish Sega would stop going backwards about his development, but hopefully Frontiers would make up for it. I’m still working on the game on my streams!

tagged by: I got tagged from the lovely @earthssprout! Please do check her out! If you love nature and a cute wholesome muse! <3

tagging: ANYONE!!

#:: Just Mun Things ::#:: Memes; Just for fun ::

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autisticlalna · 2 years

Note

Zoey for the ask meme!

oh man time for some rare Zoey Thoughts. disclaimer: i actually havent watched blackrock yet besides the first few episodes and that was ages ago

first impression: i honestly do not remember. i'm so sorry. i don't think i was super interested in her :( impression now: INCREDIBLY COOL she is honestly a major reason why i wanna watch blackrock. excellent vibes favorite moment: oh my god i just realized i don't have an answer for this because i literally don't even remember anything. i'm so sorry. i am going to sub in "literally everything zoey does in borderlandscast" idea for a story: i think someone should put zoey and martyn in a room together and see what happens (<- has no idea if this has already happened or not) unpopular opinion: speaking as someone who has done this and very much wants to bonk my 2016 self for it, i'm burnt out on her being used as angst fuel for rythian (or lalna). like i get why people go straight for the angst but the oversaturation when i was last actively reading fic turned into bad vibes favorite relationship: i didn't actually watch their pov of yogsmcc (i was team what the flux because. yeah. also i just mistyped that as "team what the fuck" which is a mood) but shoutouts to Team Good Or Acceptable Team / Go Out And Try from jingle jam favorite headcanon: uuhhhhhhh i will get back to you on this one

man im disappointed in myself, i swear i had more thoughts than this but Apparently Not. one of these days

#leo.txt #furexfurex #yogs #rattling myself until words come out

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notquiteatimetraveller · 3 years

Text

Currently jamming to mitski and dancing while looking at banana fish angst and actually convinced I'm not on the verge of a mental breakdown help

#anime #mitski #nobody by mitski #banana fish #banana fish angst #on the verge of a breakdown #But I actually feel like Im in a good mood what #havent jammed this much in awhile #like full on singing and dancing

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

day by day | 11

banner made by the iconic @dnrequests / @dee-ehn

summary; jungkook makes a decision for his family pairing; dilf!jk x best friend!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, angst, longing, pining, mc is a homebody, unrequited love (or is it?), potential idiots 2 lovers, best friends 2 lovers, mentions of sex, haru probably sounding a lil too old for her age but she’s fictionally very intelligent w/c; 2k a/n; second to last one omfg ;-; thank u for all the love and support this past month over this fic. im really happy that we can finally close this fictional family’s life together! jk is really trying to make up for lost time, so pls bear with him as he tries to speed up the process. enjoy! [day by day masterpost]

Jungkook seldom uses the word hate. He only has peeves for three things, sheets that are not treated with fabric softener, soggy ramen, and uninvited guests.

Jungkook is silent as Sena greets him, she dryly jokes that he hasn’t said hello as he jams his code in. He makes sure his back is completely covering the numbers, so that Sena can’t come in on her own.

“Kookie, I’m hungry,” Sena immediately fishes through his kitchen cupboards, but only comes up with brown rice and dry cereal.

Suppressing a sigh, Jungkook mutters that he’ll order food. He doesn’t even need to concentrate when he scrolls through the take out app, picking Sena’s favorite like she’s always lived here.

Sena looks the same, but different. Still that practiced, charming smile that gets her whatever she wants. Her hair is a lighter shade now, her skin sunkissed and the cheekbones of her face etched with a carved glow.

“Taking a shower,” Jungkook says gruffly, he can’t even make eye contact with her.

Jungkook makes sure to lock the door as he takes a quick shower. He wipes away the joys of this week, replaced with a terrible dreading that hopes the night will end well.

He wonders if you and Haru are doing okay. He feels guilty, inadvertently kicking you out of his house after he so eagerly wanted you to move in earlier today. He’s embarrassed, hating that his baggage has somehow managed to return in a green luggage and blonde hair extensions.

It’s the best snap decision he could’ve made at the time, he tries to convince himself as he roughly scrubs the lavender shampoo between his roots. You and Jungkook have done so well protecting Haru, going through a routine, making sure all the people in her life are stable and loving. Sena leaving within the first year was bad enough, but to come back two years later to fuck it all up? No way in hell.

Jungkook returns to the kitchen, smelling pasta and his peach-scented candles. Sena’s already set up the table, and aired out Jungkook’s meal. There’s a water pitcher on the side, and a pink gift bag right next to it.

“Where’s she?” Sena asks, twirling her fork around to catch the carbonara hanging off the edge of her takeout plate.

“She has a name, you know,” Jungkook huffs stubbornly, jabbing the meatball in his container with his knife.

“Fine, where’s Haru?”

“Haru is having a sleepover,” Jungkook replies vaguely, “why are you here?”

“It’s her third birthday,” Sena frowns, “shouldn’t I be here?”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Jungkook quietly, almost scarily, folds the top of his takeout container, deciding not to eat as his bad mood continues to elevate, “but you should’ve also been around for the second and third, so.”

“Let me see her, Jungkook,” Sena pouts, folding her hands across the table, her eyes flickering to the pink gift bag she prepared, “c’mon, I just got back from a traveling gig and I’ll be off for a whole month. I’ve missed you both.”

Sena’s a flighty woman. Jungkook and her had an on and off relationship for over a year, the off days so often that even you, his best friend, always missed her. Still, Jungkook can honestly admit that he’s been the grounding one in the relationship, and he’s tried very hard on his end to convince her to ground roots along with him and Haru.

He wonders what goes on in Sena’s head whenever she makes the effort to return. Is her life too flashy, too monotonous, too tiring? Is this her downtime, playing house with a family that never existed in the first place?

It’s been too long, however. Two years have passed and Jungkook can safely say he doesn’t feel anxious at the fact that Haru questions where her mother is. He knows how to make the special braids Haru asks for every Tuesday morning, he can read her needs in a heartbeat. He’s emotionally available, ready and willing to open his heart out to the person he’s been too daft to notice all along. He’s in a position where he feels stable and sufficient and whole.

His heart pinches at the thought of you, thinking how you filled in the cracks temporarily until he felt confident enough to be both a great father and a best friend to you. He wonders if there would be any way to repay that kind of love, he hopes he’s enough. So, he needs to wrap this up, and fast.

“Neither of us missed you, Sena.” Jungkook says icily, shaking his head firmly, “I have sole custody, and therefore I refuse to let you see Haru. It’ll confuse her too much, and it’ll break her heart every time you’ll leave, and don’t tell me you won’t.”

He knows he’s pushing all the wrong buttons, he feels it in the air. Sena’s eyes are terrifyingly wide, as if she hasn’t been rejected in a long, long time.

“What?” Sena hisses, nails digging into the kitchen island, “why would you be so heartless? How do you know I’m not planning on changing now?”

“Sena, Haru doesn’t even know you exist,” Jungkook watches as Sena’s gaze sobers in realization, “you left so early, and never came back. A birthday text isn’t enough, there’s no point. When Haru’s older, she can make the decision to form a relationship with you, but as of now, she doesn’t need you and neither do I.”

Jungkook’s fork taps on the plastic lid of his food. He debates on returning to the meatball he so meanly stabbed, feeling a lot lighter as this conversation rolls out.

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Sena mutters, pushing her food away, “she took her away from me because I’m not good enough. She’s a better mother than me?”

“No, not because she’s a better mother,” Jungkook snaps, “because she tried for Haru. She stayed.”

“If you really try to keep her from me,” Sena says lowly, “I have lawyers.”

Jungkook shrugs, unaffected, “Sure, try me. I got receipts.”

Sena’s gritting her teeth so hard that you can hear the squeaking. With a sharp slap she flings the gift bag to the linoleum floor. Out rolls a rattle ball, soft hair bows, and a teething ring. Poking out of the crumpled bag sits a row of white chocolate coated strawberries.

With a scoff, Jungkook shakes his head, “For the record, Haru stopped teething years ago. And she hates white chocolate.” Having enough, he gets up from his chair and grabs his jacket. He looks expectantly at Sena to do the same, “now, get your things and get out of my house. I can drop you off at whatever hotel you choose.”

Sena snatches her phone off her table, and from the angry clacking of her acrylics, she’s sending an angry text message. Her eyes are watery, and Jungkook takes note of how sad her eyes are, droopy and glassy in contrast to match her deep frown, “You’ll regret breaking our family apart,” she says.

“What family?” Jungkook retorts cynically, “because I’m pretty sure my family has nothing to do with you.”

It’s probably well past midnight. You chug a whole lot of water before going to bed, and periodically you wake up to go to the bathroom. Taking a quick pee you settle back into your mattress, snuggling into Haru’s soft and fluffy form. Just as you’re about to fall back asleep, you hear the soft ping of your front door.

Closing your eyes hard, you stuff your face into your pillow. Only a couple of people know the passcode to your apartment building.

It’s then you smell him, his light scent wafting in your bedroom. The smell of his custom peach candles he was so damn proud of, the clean musk of his laundry detergent. Jungkook tip toes into your bedroom, padding against the hardwood until he reaches your side of the bed. It doesn’t take long for him to shift you two over, squished on your queen mattress like little spoons. Jungkook cuddles into your back, while you cuddle onto Haru’s, while Haru clutches her Eeyore.

“Mmph?” you mumble, too tired to turn around, “what are you doing here?”

Jungkook sighs into your presence, “Just wanted to come home to my favorite girls.”

You wake up to the Miraculous Ladybug theme song.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Jungkook’s, who looks just as bleary-gazed as you. While your expression looks more surprised due to the fact that Jungkook somehow crawled into your apartment late at night, Jungkook looks more settled, comfortable in your bed. He sends you a dreamy smile, a hand reaching over to move the blanket away from your face.

Somehow, you ended up on the left side of the bed, Jungkook on the right. Nestled between you two is Haru, who’s eating dry cereal from those room service single boxes.

“Where’s Sena?” you whisper, trying to speak lower than the television.

“Good morning to you too,” Jungkook’s voice is groggy, which is deeply attractive, “and dunno, don’t care. Can I ask you a question to throw you off since you started with one?”

“Okay,” you confirm that whatever transpired between Jungkook and Sena is successful on Jungkook’s part, so you let him ask.

“What if I sold my house?”

“WHAT?!”

“Shh!” Haru puts a fluffy hand over her lips, Cheerio crumbs sticking to her lips, “it’s my show.”

“The penthouse here is available,” Jungkook sinks into the sheets, patting Haru’s back comfortingly, “my lease is almost up, and I know how much you like your quick commute here. It’s big, and now Haru and I can finally not be stressed over our dying vegetable garden. It’d be a fresh start for the three of us.”

“Oh, Kook,” you frown, trying not to imagine how bad the conversation could’ve been with Sena.

“‘M fine,” Jungkook scoots on over closer, so much that your noses are touching. Haru doesn’t seem to care, but is moving her legs back and forth to stop the two of you from crushing her, “I’m sorry if I worried you. Did I make you wait?”

“Two years,” you roll your eyes teasingly, “but I guess I’ll settle for you.”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, I was worried,” you shook your head, hair mushing against the pillow, “but you’re my best friend before anything. I trust you.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften, as if you bestowed upon him the highest honor, “Thanks.”

“And as for moving, I think it’s a great idea, just as long as we take our time with it. I mean, me moving in with you is already a lot.”

“You think too small,” Jungkook teases, “c’mon. I’m gonna tell Haru now.”

“Kook—”

“Tell me what?” Haru finally rips her eyes away from your flatscreen, only because there’s a commercial break.

“That you have a new mommy!” Jungkook grins hard and wide, gesturing to you with a pat on the shoulder and pulling Haru by the collar so that your three heads are smushed together.

She ‘oofs’ on the bed, and she looks at you with her wide eyes, “I’ve met you before, you’re not new,” Haru shifts her body so her hand is on your cheek, and she regards you with an intense stare, “I saw you and daddy kissing in the hotel, so I knew you were gonna be my mommy soon.”

“Haru!” you laugh, scandalized. You wrap her up like the creme to your Oreo sandwich, linking your fingers with Jungkook’s as you pull the two of them closer, “then will you be okay if we kiss some more?”

With that, you squish your lips on Haru’s left cheek, Jungkook smushes his lips on Haru’s right, and she’s a bundle of giggles. Her show is forgotten, she’s completely occupied by you and father’s silly antics.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #dilf!jk #bts fic #bts angst #bts x reader #bts fluff

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jemmo · 2 years

Note

hi! i really liked the bad buddy fics u recommended last time to another anon, do u have any new ones that you’d like to recommend?

oooooh yay im glad ppl are enjoying my fic recs 😊😊 i'd like to think of myself as a connoisseur of the bad buddy ao3 tag (although yes sometimes i do just check the explicit tag... im only human) so here's some i've enjoyed in the past couple of weeks

music is not in the notes, but in the silence between them by seekingmoonscapes (@seeking-moonscapes on tumblr)

omg this one is a gemmmmm. i havent resonated with many chaptered fics so far but this one im so so invested in. the storytelling is beautiful and there's such a good balance of moods and tones between the scenes. and they're just adorable in this fic i teared up an embarassing amount reading the last chapter with all the guitar stuff. kayla you've officially ruined me and pls know i have a tab open for this fic that i check everyday waiting for chapter 6 (no pressure lol)

(i had this half written in my drafts when chapter 6 dropped and eeeeeeeek kayla my hero thank you that final chapter was so fucking cute. i love that it was like a who’s who of all of pat and prans cutest moments and all their confessions all packed into one it was genius. and now im gonna need approximately a billion special chapters and side stories. dont worry, i’ll be patient)

no stranger to the wind by snickerdoodlles (@thecookiemonster77 on tumblr)

its no surprise at this point that i praise everything you write then. but the people need to know there are so many good AUs brewing im constantly vibrating with excitement. and i cant wait to get more gems of this chrestomanci AU bc the patpran junior dynamic is beyond precious and i cant wait to see my boys being all powerful enchanters that live their own quaint, quirky lives according to their own rules (+ beach shenanigans my beloved)

I’ll pretend that I’m not hurt by cherrylipgloss (@prany on tumblr)

its not that i want to see pat and pran fight, but some delicious jealousy and angst followed by a heart-warming reconciliation sits on my palette just right. and i am so so in love with the fact that we got to see this from both perspectives bc both of their pettiness and insecurity and sadness is valid and we get to see that, and we get to see how each others actions get misinterpreted and thats how these things happen. i just beyond love this fic bc patpran ldr angst done right is 👌👌👌

and now the spicy stuff 🤤

i am weak, my love, and i am wanting by kurtstiel (@winxteam on tumblr)

wow wow wow this fic is everything. idk what else to say, this just hits right for me. its my favourite thing, that soft level of kink that has a whole world of emotions tucked into it, its like crack to my brain. and this was just beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, its such a horny emo mood and the sheer level of pat neediness was fantastic. honest to god one of the best explicit bad buddy fics ive read so far

One Night Stand With Your Childhood Crush by xxxbucky

this is like all the horny crack shenanigans i’ve ever needed. like yes give me awkward happenings and supressed feelings and embarrassment, and this so so has to continue bc i need office happenings and forced working together and all the awkward eye contact and prolonged stares and wanting but unsureness ugh this just be my jam

and just as a lil special, here is the trifecta of pat and pran phone sex shenanigans:

a ghost upon the air by RyNSFW (pugglemuggle) (@rythyme on tumblr)

Your Voice in My Ear (Your Space in My Bed) by Faillen (@faillen on tumblr)

Awkward by seekingmoonscapes (@seeking-moonscapes on tumblr)

#made by jemmo #bad buddy fics my precious #i can not understate how much i appreciate every one of these writers and all the writers on ao3 #bc they are the number 1 way i still engage with bad buddy and will do forever #they make the bad buddy verse just feel so wide and expansive and its beautiful #so thank you all srsly youre all super talented and awesome #bad buddy

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poutyhannie · 4 years

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HERE IS THE FINAL PART :)))) I really didn’t think it’d be this long but i’m happy with how it turned out! thanks for reading

warnings: angst, smut, implied smut, fem!reader, unprotected smexy time, im really bad w warnings guys plz help me

word count: +3k

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Other than classes and occasional meals, you almost never leave your dorm though you hate it in there. Your roommate just moved in but keeps mostly to herself. The sun has set, casting a murky darkness over the campus. You’ve gotten into the routine of leaving the dorm around 11, the time where your roommate’s breathing evens and snoring starts. Not bothering to grab a sweater, you shuffle out of your dorm in flip-flops and your thin pajamas. It seems that your eyes are always burning and sore. The constant drum of ache courses through your body and as you wander around the relatively empty campus, your mind is blank.

Settling down on a cold bench, you stare up to the small white moon. It seems like you sit there for hours, staring before your eyes begin to prickle with hot, embarrassing tears. They travel down your cheek and get soaked up by your shirt collar.

“What are you doing here?” You whip around, furiously wiping your cheeks dry, though your eyes still water. Under a black hood, you can barely see his face but when he takes a seat next to you he flicks it off. Because you’re only used to Minho’s lust filled eyes, the genuine concern takes you off guard. He tries to lighten your mood by cracking a joke. “Y’know, I was kinda bummed when I woke up alone.” However, this only makes your lips twist and a sob choke out of your body.

His eyes widen, cursing under his breath as he reaches out to rub soothing circles on your back. “Shit, I’m sorry. I guess that’s not helping…What’s wrong, princess?” A bitter taste courses through your mouth and your sore throat painfully swallows. Looking at the ground, you whisper, “I’m fucked up. That’s what’s wrong.”

Minho’s head tilts in concern, “C’mon we’re all human. We all make mistakes and you can bet on your pretty ass that we’re all damn fucked up.” Though his words would cause bile to rise, you find yourself leaning into him, collapsing into his broad chest as tears spring into your eyes once again. “But what are you doing out here this late?” He continues, stroking the back of your head softly, “Just wanted to let it out without an audience?” You nod into his chest, letting your senses fill with his bright scent. “I don’t wanna go back into my dorm.” His voice causes rumblings against your ear, a dangerously enticing feeling. “If you wanna come back to mine, we can. We don’t have to do anything but you can stay if you don’t wanna be here.”

Nothing exists but Minho’s arms around yourself and his scent in your nose.

He lends you a soft hoodie and sweatpants which smell deeply of him. Minho strokes the skin behind your ear as you wrap your arms around him. Minho grips your arms as you kiss along his jaw. Minho tugs at your hair as you pull down his sweats.

You stare up at his ceiling, mindlessly stroking his stomach and wondering how you could loath yourself so much but let yourself have good things. Is it even a good thing? Would he want to touch you if he knew what pain you caused to other people? Minho’s arm tightens around you and he groans softly. “You still up, princess?”

“Yeah, sorry. I usually don’t sleep much.” When he rises, you try to tell him that you’re okay and that he can go back to sleep but he protests, “It’s already 6:30, I usually get up at 7, so I’m fine.” You sit in between his legs, his duvet tangled around you both when he asks you again why you can’t sleep. At this point, you don’t give a damn about your stupid walls and emotional protection because look where they’ve got you. “I fucked up real bad,” you tell him, choosing to look down at his hands. “There was this guy that really liked me but we were just fucking. I thought I just wanted it to be just that, but I didn’t tell him that. I let him believe I wanted something more than that.” Your voice trails off as you look Minho in the eyes.

He stops to think about your words for a moment before saying, “And instead of telling him, you met me at that party.” Worrying at your lip you nod, “When he found out, he got really really mad of course and I said horrible things to him that weren’t true and we…we haven’t talked since,” you shake your head as your filthy heart aches, “I wanted to tell myself that we weren’t emotionally involved with each other.”

Though you half expect Minho to agree, conclude that you are a bitch, but he just nods, a knowing look on his face. “So you do like him.” You suck a breath in, wrestling over a fact that is obviously true. You don’t want to admit it. Why don’t you want to admit it? Maybe because it’s almost like a lock or a seal. Once you confess it, you leave yourself vulnerable to possibilities you can’t control. When you had him, you felt you had him wrapped around your finger. You let him go because your hands wanted to grab an assortment of things and now that he’s slipped out, you just wish that you hadn’t been so selfish.

Despite the sound of a lock shutting you into your feelings you whisper, “Yeah, I really do.”

“Then swallow your pride and tell him that you fucked up,” Minho’s gaze is fierce, “Don’t fucking wait here and hope all your feelings go away because they won’t. If he doesn’t think you’re worth it, then you’ll at least know that what got you into this mess in the first place is resolved. You’d be open with him and you’ll get hurt but,” he throws his hands up, “you’ll have done it.”

You frown, picking at a lint on his covers, “But what if he doesn’t hear me or—”

The exasperated sign from Minho stops you short, “What the fucking hell if he doesn’t hear you, Y/n? He’s got a right to do that but don’t use that as an excuse to not swallow your pride and try to make things right.” You hate how right he is and you hate how you’re missing Jisung but rather than pushing that longing away, you let it lead you. Sunlight streams down on your clothes and you lay Minho’s clothes on his bed quickly, slipping your own on. He gets up, following you out to his doorstep. Somewhere, you find the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m really sorry about this, Minho. Sorry for dragging you into my problems.” Minho shakes his head, tugging you into a hug, “Relationships like this don’t work for everyone. Just tell me how it goes with him and we can work it out from there.” Though you would just drop Minho, block his number and ignore him around campus, you know that you can’t leave a loose end like this so you just nod.

Changbin opens the door to his, Chan’s, and Jisung’s apartment, a scowl rising on his face when he sees you. “What did I fucking tell you, Y/n?” He blocks the doorway with his body and starts closing it when you try to look behind him. “He’s not here so what do you want?”

“I need to apologize! I need to tell him that I was wrong and that—”

“Do you know how much of a fucking mess he’s been these past weeks? Y/n, it’s been almost a month and you haven’t even tried reaching out to him once. Did you even stop to think about him?”

“Every single fucking night! There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t cried over it!” You respond desperately.

“Oh boo-hoo,” Changbin mocks, “She finally has feeling. Why the hell did you wait till now to say this? Do you like to put the people you care about in misery? What, do you make them realize how much they care about you by destroying their trust?”

By now, tears are streaming down your face at Changbin’s candid, ruthless but truthful words. “I was scared! I didn’t want to tell him because I was terrified of being hurt again.”

“So you fucking shatter his heart.” Changbin growls, his eyes darkening.

“Please, just let me see him. I just need to tell him and then I’ll leave,” you beg desperately, all but wringing your hands. The older boy’s cold voice causes your stomach to sink, “I told you, Y/n. He’s not here.”

Changbin closes the door quickly as a soft voice calls out from inside the apartment. “I-is that Y/n?” You want to run to that voice, to tell him that you know you’re selfish and stupid and fucked up but the stupid door between you stops you from doing that. Muffled words are being exchanged from behind the other side of the door. Changbin tells him that nothing happened and that he needs to go back to sleep. The door opens despite Changbin’s protsts. The boy in the door ways dark eyes are red and puffy. His hair is greasy and his lips are chapped and bleeding.

He’s beautiful.

You don’t dare reach out; you don’t dare touch him. You don’t deserve it. Changbin moves in front of Jisung, jamming a finger in your face. “I’m leaving but this is the first and last fucking chance I’ll give you. Remember what I said to you. I won’t let him get hurt again.”

Now that you are in the position you’ve been wanting to be in: alone in front of Jisung, you regret not preparing what you’re gonna say to him. His eyes are still red and he gazes at you with a broken, longing stare. Swallowing hard and dropping your gaze, you begin, “I’m really fucking sorry, Jisung. I was being selfish and I was wrong for what I did.”

His voice is croaky and raw. “What did you do, though? Do you even know what you did to me, Y/n?” The damn stinging in your eyes drags them down, but you force yourself to look him in the eyes.

“I knew,” the confession makes your heart burn but you continue, “I knew how you felt but—”

“Then why would you do that? Are you really that cruel?” His voice is so soft and it cracks. He shoves his hands into his jogger pockets to hide their tremors from you.

“It’s because I’m a piece of shit, okay? I was scared of opening up to you and wanted you to not feel that way about me because I don’t deserve it!” You don’t know why your voice rises and you wish it wouldn’t. You wish you wouldn’t get worked up over this and just tell him diplomatically but you can’t. “I thought that keeping it only sexual between us would let that happen and I was terrified when I wanted to involve myself with you in a way deeper than that.”

Jisung’s eyes narrow and he scoffs, “So you go fuck another guy. That’s a great solution, Y/n. Really smart move you pulled there,” he steps closer to you, glaring down at you, “Yeah, you’re right. You are a piece of shit cause you were too scared of facing something as normal as feelings.”

Your insides burn and you push down bile as a you can feel a fist tear at your heart but you take a shaky breath in, “I know I don’t deserve it, but is there any way you can accept my apology?” The scoff that Jisung lets out again twists your gut and he places his hands behind his head, turning away from you. His words are slow and measured, “I need to think about it.” You reach out, beginning to say something but abruptly stop, nodding and heading to the door. Pausing to look back at him, his back is still to you. “I’m so sorry, Jisung. I turned into the monster I was hurt by.” Your words have him turning around, eyes confused, but he doesn’t say anything so you close the door softly behind you.

Somehow, you manage to keep the tears at bay down the hall and onto the stairs, though there’s a burning numbness in your fingers.

You’re walking quickly out the stairwell to hide the tears streaming down your face when his voice calls out. Though your eyes scan around the courtyard, your stomach churns. His head is trained down to the brick ground, but he seems to know exactly where is walking: straight towards you. Rushing to meet him in the middle, any other thoughts escape your mind. You don’t even know what he’s gonna say, but a flood of relief rushes through you at seeing him. His eyes regard you thoughtfully and you realize he’s waiting for you to say something.

“W-what are you doing out here?” You stutter out, cheeks flushed and nose cold.

His head tilts and he blinks around your face before responding slowly, “Well this is my apartment,” he lets out a small humorless laugh to fill the empty sound around you guys. Right by his side when he begins walking, you look up at him as he continues, “I’ve made up my mind,” he pauses, meeting your eyes, “actually, I’ve thought a lot about you and me and us for the past month.” You will your heartbeat to slow to a normal pace. “I though that it was wrong of me to be possessive of you but then I realized that you knew how I felt about you,” he chews on his lip, “I feel like we’re both at fault right now.”

“Maybe,” you start, “but that doesn’t make up for what I did to you.”

He stretches his arms out, nodding down at you, “Yeah, I agree but I understand where you’re coming from. I get that trusting people is hard but do you think you can trust me?”

You hold your breath and whisper, “I think I can. Can you forgive me?”

Though Jisung’s eyes wander around you, his voice is steady as he says, “I forgive you if you can trust me.” A breath hitches in your throat and you feel hot tears prickle at your eyes as relief floods your chest.

You collapse into him, wrapping your arms around him and speaking into his hoodie, “I was so scared I’d lose one of the only people I really care for.”

He strokes the back of your head tenderly. “Nah, I want to start back where we left off.”

Sniffing, you gaze up at him, “You do?”

An endearing smile spreads across his face and he nods, “Changbin hyung will take some convincing but I really like you.”

Your chest burns in the best way possible and you don’t feel like you’re worth it but you say it anyways, “I like you too, Jisung.” Satisfied, he leans down to place a firm but tender kiss to your lips. A tear trickles down your cheek as you feel redeemed. Forgiven.

Jisung trails his fingers through your hair and leans back onto his bed covers, you on top of him. Gingerly, your fingers trace the familiar curve of his jawline and you realize how much you missed him. His tongue is slow against yours but his heartbeat is fast against your fingers. As his lips travel over the skin of you neck, you exhale happily, ready to begin with Jisung again the right way. He flips you both over, eyes wide and asking you for permission. You nod and he slips off his hoodie. His slightly cold finger provide a wonderful sensation as he pushes them into you. Slowly thrusting them in and out, Jisung gazes down at you, a smile gracing his features as your soft moans fill his apartment. He curls his fingers in you, twisting and scissoring you in a way no one else could. With your full attention on him, Jisung pulls out his fingers and licks your arousal off them. The sight of his red tongue lapping the juices up makes you instantly wetter. Smirking, Jisung tugs down his pants, leaning down to place wet kisses over your face, neck, and collarbones. His hot mouth on yours, he slowly enters you, letting you adjust before firmly thrusting into you. Its not crazed or wanton like before, but slow and drawn out as he feels the extent of your depths clenching around him and you feel his veins rubbing against your walls. With a slow exhale, Jisung continues, his hands reaching down to grasp yours tightly.

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Y/n,” he breathes.

“I can know, because I’ve missed you more.”

A sly smile comes onto his face and he shakes his head, “Nah, I missed you more, baby.” To cement his words, he reaches a hand down to slowly circle your clit. You arch your back off the ground and let out a deep moan. His lips finds your jaw as his pace quickens. His hair is soft and tangles in your fingers as one hand grips his hair and one his shoulder. Breathless moans escape both of your lips and when he looks down at you in the eye, you unintentionally clench around him. He groans and whispers, “I’m close, baby.”

You nod, moaning as he pleasures your clit and thrusts deep into you. When you tilt your head to the side, Jisung grabs your jaw, staring down at you. “You’re mine, Y/n. All mine.” This pushes you off the edge and you shake as your release washes over you and you feel him coming into you.

Panting, Jisung stays on top of you, admiration in his eyes as he gazes down at you, even as his erection withers inside you. “Say it,” he whispers. Now with no inhibitions, you kiss him, holding his gaze and breathe, “You’re mine, Jisung and I’m yours.”

Jisung cleans you both up and as Jisung holds you tightly, nuzzling his nose in your neck, you realize that your past experiences no longer control your life. You alone are the author of your chapters and Jisung helped you gain that freedom. You run your hands through his hair and hold him close, cherishing him like he’s the world.

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cottoncandyjester · 3 years

Text

kiseichū and dadzuku part 2

So clearly I was gonna stop this series cause honestly y’all didn’t come here for this you guys came for the sexy yandere ocs not seeing Izuku be a dad for a random oc..but i felt in the mood.

Part one

Warning this contains: near death? Some angst

"kise, it's time to wake up you're coming with me to work" the pro hero spoke in a soft tone while shaking the male, izuku was already dressed and ready so it shouldn't take them long to go it was just a matter of getting kise awake.

"thirty more minutes.."

"t-thirty?! That's far too long!" Izuku snapped with a shiver before scooping the boy up into his arms feeling him softly wrap his arms around izuku's neck which made the hero smile. The two have been closer lately and it made izuku really happy but since they've been living together izuku never even tested out kise's quirk to see what it could do..should he?

Izuku brushed the bright curls out of the boy's face watching his bright blue eyes open slowly causing izuku to beam with joy before feeling kise sit up only to see that he wasn't pleased to be awake so early.

"Morning kise!" Izuku cheered out and lose turned his head away "it's kiseichū.." he hissed out.

He's really mad at me!

Izuku have a nervous laugh before putting the boy down who rubbed his eyes with a low groan.

"Get ready, kay?"

"whats burning..?"

Izuku jolted and rushed off toward the kitchen, he had completely forgot to turn off the stove! "Our breakfast!" He hissed out only to see that the food was a charred black, he didn't have time to make more food..what will he do?

"you're a fucking idiot deku!"

"I know..."

"dumbass! What would have happened if you burned the place down!?"

Izuku had called bakugo who aggressively cooked breakfast for them and brought it to work. Kise hummed as he ate being the center of attention by the baku squad who all worked with deku at bakugo's agency.

"he's so cute!"

"he's small for a six year old"

"So what exactly is his quirk?"

Kise whined meekly as denki pulled the boy's cheeks and noticed that his teeth were sharp like some kind of wild animal. "Woah dude! This kid could take a chomp oh me if he wanted to!" The blonde said in awe as izuku gave a nervous laugh

"h-hey kaminari I don't think he likes that..you should stop." He stated before flinching when kise started to slip off his gloves and grab denki but was stopped by bakugo who gripped his wrist

"oi! Don't be such a brat! Dunce face leave the little shit alone unless you wanna turn into a puddle of sludge!" The blonde snapped out. Kise coughed lightly now trying to wiggle from bakugo's grip.

"hey kise, could you be hungry?" Izuku asked causing everyone to look his way before their eyes landed on kise who gave a simple nod. Silence fell upon the group before izuku glanced over at bakugo who gave a firm nod.

Kise sat in the white room as the pro heroes stared through the glass wall. "Yo bakubro should we really be doing this? I mean he's still so little" kirishima piped up his red eyes shining with worry ad he watched the boy reads a book with no gloves on.

"we gotta see what happens when he doesn't eat and how long he can last" bakugo stated as he glanced at izuku before a look of disgust crossed the blonde.

"you look like a worried mom deku you might be too attached"

"i-im just worried! I wouldn't say I see myself as a parent to him or anything though" izuku stuttered and mina smirked towards the male. "Oh yeah? What's his favorite food?" She asked and izuku answered within an instant "hamburger steak, or korean bbq though he always wants to cook it himself" he said and covered his mouth his face with a flustered expression of embarrassment.

"dude, you're totally a dad now."

"no more going to bars after work midoribro you gotta take care of your son”

Izuku huffs as sero and denki teased him before a loud cough caused him to shoot his gaze towards kise who was starting to wheeze and cough harder now starting to become antsy.

"we should open the door now, come on kacchan open the door already." Izuku said softly as he pressed a hand on the glass watching lose walk around the room looking for a food source.

"in a little bit, hes not dying yet"

"bakugo that's cold."

Bakugo glanced at kirishima who shared izuku's worried gaze watching at the boy started to get sicker now throwing up black sludge his breathing weaker as he gazed at the glass wall.

"p-please, I'm..hungry"

"kacchan!" Izuku shouted and bakugo walked to the door with a sigh. "Fine fine!" He snapped trying to open the door only for it to be jammed. "Shit.." bakugo hissed out now glancing over at kise who was too weak to walk so he dropped to his knees crawling towards the door as black sludge poured out his mouth and eye sockets.

"bakugo! The door!"

"shut the fuck up kirishima I'm trying! It's stuck!" He snapped and izuku took a few steps back green crackles of energy covering his body as kirishima hardened both of them have the idea of breaking the glass while mina tried melting the door

Crash

The glass shattered just as the door melted down and izuku rushed towards the boy scooping him up in his arms hugging him close. He was so light almost like he didn't weigh nothing at all, kirishima felt the boy touch his arm which kirishima didn't truly mind

"zu..zuku.." kise whispered out before bakugo yanked the kid away holding him upside by his ankle "Are you fucking stupid, do you two wanna die?!" Bakugo hissed out at the two heroes.

Kise looked at his hands watching them harden slightly though it was nowhere near as strong as kirishima. "Oh great good job shitty hair, giving the toddler some of your quirk its like giving a baby a gun!”

Izuku glared at bakugo slightly a wave of annoyance washing over him due to the fact that kiss could’ve died! “He’s just a child..you’re being so cruel. Stop it.” He said softly now scooping kiss in his arms putting his gloves on him.

“We aren’t doing this again, not so soon” Izuku demanded and the group was silent guilt filling them until Mina came up with an idea to cheer them all up. “Have you ever been to the Aquarium kise?” She said with a smile her eyes flickering when he shook his head no.

“We should go! All of us! Even you bakugo!”

“Eh!? Why me!” He snapped out with a growl. He flinched when kise grabbed his shirt and he eyes the boy his eyes softening at his soft little face. “Ugh. Fuck! Fine!” He snapped out “let’s go to the fucking aquarium..” he grumbled out with a huff.

#bnha #bnha oc #izuku modoriya #dadzuku

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spiderman-homecomeme · 3 years

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Angst with a Happy Ending 😏

oooo I'll give that one a C!

It's the only kind of angst that i'll read (w the exception of swk, im still in pain to this day, so thank you) and i have to be in a very specific mood for it. I am, in a word, a weenie. but, to quote Mr. fieri:

Angst for the sake of being angsty is not my jam!! we've gotta have reasons!!

When it's done well though... it hits. Especially when it earns that happy ending/the pay off is good!! like yes!!

send me a fanfic trope and i'll grade it!

#ask games #pursue-solitude #ty seek

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thunderdilf · 4 years

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What your MK OTP says about you

(based on ships I enjoy and/or have seen in passing)

[feel free to rebagel and add—ship hate will mean insta-blockage, for whatever that’s worth! I’m using the ship names I’ve krafted, and ballparking with others. I hope they give ye a giggle. If your ship isn’t here, PLEASE add it! I just went from memory. I love y’all.]

Caged Heat (Liu/Johnny): you’re here for a good time, not a long time—you like good tiddies and the word “angorny” means something to you. There is passion in both kombat and throwing someone’s luggage off a dock. Sparks, I tells ya.

Sonya/Johnny: you appreciate pegging and Cassie Cage (who doesn’t?). You like the story of a jerk with a heart of gold showing his true colors to a woman who is NOT easily impressed—and who also tops.

Shaolin Rowdy Boys (Liu/Lao): you’re here for a good time, not a long time… literally—you crave childhood friends to unexpected lovers and secret banging in temple broom closets! You see the value of a best friend who’ll go to bat for you, even against a 10,000 year old turboprincess, or maybe you ARE that friend.

Jadetana (Jade/Kitana): Kitana bottoms for NO man, but for Jade, she’d do anything. You love that dynamic of unswerving loyalty which secretly hides deep, abiding admiration and maybe a little lust—or a lot! Who knows what freaky shit Edenian gals can get up to in their private time? You. YOU know and may The Elder Gods™ bless you for producing kontent.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium (subscorp): old guy love is just the ticket—you crave the maturity of years, but you don’t want it boring; someone is getting speared because the love is more intense with age. Kombat to lovemaking is your kryptonite.

Warring Exes (Shang Tsung/Raiden): old guy love, but make it fashion—opulence meets chastity in a clash for the ages; you want an emotional roller coaster of “what if” and “why not”, where a mortal may teach a god to love himself, and love being loved… or perhaps not. Tragedy abounds. There’s enemies to lovers and then there’s this roller coaster. Do you really want good things for Raiden? Debatable.

Faraday Cage (Johnny/Raiden): old guy love, again, but this time it’s two dads finding comfort in a time when they need it most—you REALLY just want good things for Raiden and honestly, who doesn’t? Johnny is, decidedly, a good thing and you’ve decided that nicknames like “1.21 gigawatts” and “electric slide” are acceptable forms of foreplay.

Cassie/Raiden: Faraday Cage 2: Electric Boogaloo—you might be a spite shipper (rock on) or you just dig visible age gap (because you know that every ship including Raiden or Fujin is EXTREME age gap) and you just want Cassie and Raiden to have nice things.

Jacqueda (Jacqui/Takeda): you watched them grow over the course of X and you were smitten. You’re convinced love really can bloom on the battlefield and kombat spouses appeal to you. The idea of Jacqui throwing down with Scorpion for Takeda’s hand appeals to you as well. Same.

Liutana (Liu Kang/Kitana): all those voice lines and character endings mean something to you—in fact, you may have cried; they’ve been fiddling about since 1995, goddammit, you just want good things for them! Is that so much to ask? I say make it happen.

Royal Pain (Shao Kahn/Sindel): the term “power couple” means something OTHERWORLDLY to you—you took one look at this terrible twosome and went “get me a freak like that” but no one was sure which one you meant and that was okay with you. You’re enamored with their grisly Gomez/Morticia aesthetic. They are awful and you LOVE it. Good on you!

Windwolf (Nightwolf/Fujin): you played Aftermath. ‘Nuff said. JK I’m never done. You love the dynamic of middle-aged person and deity falling in love, which is bizarrely specific, but you’ve found your niche goddammit and you’re going to fill it. You appreciate the koncept of the “god” not always being on top of things, or put-together and the idea of a mortal comforting such a being titillates you. The way Nightwolf stands, holding his belt buckle is, you’re convinced, what sold Fujin; it’s also what sold YOU.

Windserpent (Shang Tsung/Fujin): you played Aftermath and while you didn’t think of it at the time, you’ve seen some REALLY nice art and batted the idea around a while and then settled on “yes this is for me”. The appeal is in the danger, from both sides—a nigh-immortal soul sorcerer and a god. Perhaps you crave a redemption arc, or a corruption arc; either way, this ship has serious potential and you intend to exploit it. How Shang Tsung of you.

Honor among thieves (Erron Black/Kung Jin): you dig age gap, unironic cowboys, and the idea of a couple of people who haven’t always been on the right side of the law finding themselves and their points of strength in the Kourt of an Outworld emperor.

Kotal/Jade: you only needed a few cutscenes to tell you that these two are MADLY in love; what we lacked in pure kontent (after all, the game didn’t CENTER on them), they made up for in passionate exchanges. You appreciate the dynamic of respect between them and pegging is NEVER off the table.

Kano/Raiden: the aesthetic of filth-meets-purity appeals to you something fierce. The dynamic is unique and you love the potential for a redemption/corruption arc(s?).

Shang Tsung/Kano: you saw the club scene in MK95 and you went “yes they’re boning”. Whether there is actual affection or not varies with your mood. You love the idea of disaster gay and refined gay coming together to make something dastardly.

Bi-Hanzo (Bi-Han/Scorpion): you crave old wounds and aches and angst, drowning in memories of what never could have been, and regrets of what might have been prevented. This is an angst fest and it is YOUR cup of tea; drink that shit down, my friend, no sugar, no cream. Have at it.

Sonya/Jax: team mom and dad aesthetic appeals to you on a spiritual level. Someone’s gotta be in charge of this chicken shit outfit. AMERICA.

The Storm (Fujin/Raiden): your aesthetic includes the difficulty of a mortal’s inability to truly connect with and understand immortals and immortals finding themselves and each other in that realization. These entities who have existed since the beginning of all things understand each other better than anyone else could. Shine on.

Sindel/Raiden: this is team parents aesthetic on ‘roids. You’re probably a fan of the brainwashed Sindel theory and you’re of the opinion that only the love of a god is remotely worthy of the ultimate scream queen. Honestly, you’re probably right. Body worship is on your list of goals, right alongside worthy equals in a relationship—kinky. That being said, pegging is always a possibility.

Mileena/Scorpion: your aesthetic is danger—but alongside that is “lost souls finding love” and “shared burdens of infinite AGONY”. You dig angst and the potential for star-crossed lovers, meeting each other’s eyes across the arena of kombat. The idea of Scorpion as a consort (Kahnsort?) for Mileena might also appeal to you.

Rain/Mileena: the song “hatefuck” by the Bravery is probably your jam. You know there’s little love lost between these two, but perhaps kombat will bare their souls in such a way that they find some redeeming quality in the other—and the sex is VICIOUS. That’s what you’re looking for and by The Elder Gods™ you’ve found it.

Fanblade (Kitana/Sonya): you saw MK95 and went “I can fix this”. Kombat futch meets ancient warrior princess futch—this feels like hardcore xenabrielle vibes with a side of GORE because it’s mortal kombat, let’s be real. You feel as if Kitana would be foolish not to claim Sonya as her lover after watching her snap Kano’s neck with her thighs. You would be right.

Taleena (Tanya/Mileena): rebel, rebel—we love a good usurpation, don’t we? Power struggles are hot, both politically and in bed. Your kinks include overthrowing the bourgeoisie (even though you ARE the bourgeoisie) and seizing the means of production (meaning the flesh pits, probably).

Shaiden (Shinnok/Raiden): your motto is fight and fuck—or enemies to lovers, for the more refined shipper. Maybe you prefer enemies AND lovers. Go hard or go home, I say.

Nightwolf/Erron Black: old guy love, but make it reformed criminal. The appeal here is that, very likely, someone has to convince someone else that he really IS out of the woods, to show him his true worth, and maybe give him some time off from the violent grind of kombat life.

Kablam (Kabal/Erron Black): black dragon buddies! In the depths of mercenary work, there isn’t time for love, not really, so you want to see these two assholes find some semblance of peace and pleasure amidst illicit activities. Whether or not Kano knows depends on what kind of quickie sex appeals most to you.

Jacquass (Cassie/Jacqui): military lesbians, friends to lovers, BFFs, this ship has it all. You’re in love with the idea of a couple of people who grew up together, suffered and fought and bled together, stumbling away from a battlefield, carrying each other and finding that perhaps they can keep carrying the other, maybe forever.

Kotal/Erron: The idea of watching someone go from bad to the bone, to actually CARING about something other than himself thrills and excites you. That kind of loyalty can’t be bought, even though you keep pretending that’s all it is. Very tsundere.

Kano/Kabal: “he’s a lowlife, piece of shit scumbag; you’re gunna love ‘im.” Nuff said.

#mk shipposting #I ain't taggin all these ships #just like my mains idk #warring exes #thermodynamic equilibrium #faraday cage #caged heat #shaolin rowdy boys #I'm so lazy that's all you get #for the record there ARE ships on this list that make me gag a wee bit but I've included them because someone out there likes them #if it brings someone joy I'm about it because no matter your moral argument #it's not hurting anyone because it is in fact fictional and you have the choice to block me and anyone else to whom you've taken exception #and move the fuck on #fuden #tagging this for you few out yonder #love you <3 #incest mention #???

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 12: The Mirror]

A/N: Hi y’all!! Please enjoy, this is a long one. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now, so I’ll be putting all my creative energy into BYCNL and will hopefully finish up the series within the next month. Thank you so much for your love and support! Each and every reblog/message/comment makes me smile and means the absolute world to me! 💜

Chapter summary: John gets a rap sheet, Roger gets defensive, Y/N gets suspicious, News Of The World gets a headline.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, babies, drama, angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re not late. You’re never late.

And at first that’s okay, it’s more than okay, it’s a relief; because it was too soon to have a baby anyway, less than a year into a supposedly meaningless marriage, a marriage you and Roger never even speak of, a marriage that might have never happened at all—might only exist as a particularly vivid and pleasant dream—if it wasn’t for your freshly-minted British citizenship. At first you greeted each dark, fruitless stain of blood with a casual ruefulness—oh well, one more month of freedom, you would think, smiling a little, worrying not very much at all—content to let that milestone trophy of womanhood, of life, lay undusted and unclaimed in the cluttered pit of your mental oak trunk with a tarnished gold latch shaped like a lion’s jaw.

After four months, you start to notice things. You notice the way Chrissie’s twins have small willow-green eyes that turn down in the corners, just like Brian does; you notice how John’s children have his downy hair and that innate sort of reticence that some people mistake for banality; you notice all those pretty, anonymous young women pushing strollers through the blossoming summer foliage of Hyde Park. You notice the way Roger grins and waves at babies when you see them in airports or hotel lobbies, dazzles them like he dazzles very nearly everybody, like he still dazzles you. You notice a longing buried in your bones that you hadn’t known existed.

After six months, you are no longer casually rueful. You start ignoring the calendar, as if not noticing you’re due could stop the bleeding from coming at all, like how you’re not supposed to stare at the clock if you want time to pass faster. You start watching what you’re eating, trying to get more sleep, opening all the windows when Roger smokes as he flips through fashion and music magazines with crafty little snickers, flashing those pointy canine teeth you once assumed your children would have.

And now, after nine months—as the world hurtles towards the conclusion of the brisk October of 1977—you have begun to worry; because maybe this thing, this thing that everyone accepts as a guaranteed feature of the all-inclusive package of the human experience, isn’t something you get to have at all. Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you about it. He is as he always is: sunlight and joy and heat and raw kinetic energy. But sometimes Roger’s huge blue eyes—those eyes you fell in love with, those eyes that convinced you to follow Queen to London, to stardom, to thunderous stadiums all over the world—go vacant as he gazes out into the horizon, as the sun sets over the garden of the Surrey house, as his face is lit up in gold and amber and celestial fury like the wildfire his soul is made of.

And you’ve begun to worry about him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings from the nightstand. The shrill clanging, like hail on glass, makes you wince beneath the tangle of blankets. Your hand fumbles out into cool night air, which pours in from the open bedroom window.

Where’s Roger?

Then you remember his hushed voice, his bleached hair tickling your cheek, his lips pressed to your temple: Hey baby. I gotta go jam with some people. Grab a drink or two. You sleep, I’ll be back by morning.

Sure, okay, fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. One of those infinite casualties of fame.

You haul the phone to your ear. “Hello...?”

“Hello darling, are you busy?”

“Well, it’s 2:39 a.m., Fred. So not very.”

“Perfect. I need you to go post bail for John.”

You wrench yourself upright, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “What?!”

“He was drunk driving and backed into a cop car, pure genius. I’m rather indisposed myself at the moment, and of course Veronica can’t know. And you’re so good with him, dear.”

Your feet have already swung off the bed and onto the plush white carpet. You wonder what Freddie is ‘indisposed’ with; there are so many possibilities these days. “And you know about this...because...?”

“He used his phone call on me, darling. I don’t think he wanted to bother you. I suspect he’s a bit mortified.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.” You sigh and start pawing through the safe in the bedroom closet, the spiraled phone cord pulled taunt. Hundred-pound notes shuffle weightlessly between your fingers. You remember when Queen had no money at all, when you and Roger shared a pitiful—dodgy, you amend—one-bedroom flat, when you had to assemble each bouquet and tie each ribbon for John’s wedding by hand; and you’re shocked by the nostalgia that hits you in the gut like brass knuckles. “Sure, I’ll go get him. Just tell me where he is and how much he’ll owe me.”

John is slumped on the floor of the jail cell, alone and sweated and miserable. His hair is in complete disarray. He peers up at you through the iron bars with red, swollen, unfocused eyes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, smiling although you know you shouldn’t be.

He covers his face with both hands and moans. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late. Freddie asked me to come get you, he was drunk or high or in the middle of an orgy or something. You are the worst drunk driver in the world, just so you’re aware. You are obviously not cut out for a life of crime.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He swipes at the strands of hair stuck to his forehead with the back of his hand, bites his lower lip, shakes his head with that thousand-yard stare that says: How the fuck did I get here?

You drop down to your knees to meet him at his level. The concrete floor is filthy, spotted with grime and dust and crushed insects and smears of what might be blood. “What’s going on, John?” you ask gently.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs. “It’s okay when we’re on tour. When we’re on tour I’m preoccupied and exhausted and too high on the rush to think about it too much. I’m numb. Mostly. But then I come home and it’s...” He glowers, balls his hands into fists, beats them clumsily against his thighs. “It’s this relentless fucking cycle of feeling dissatisfied and guilty and inadequate. A disappointment of a husband. A failure of a father. And it’s inescapable.”

“Well, the constant pregnancy situation probably doesn’t help.” Veronica is expecting their third child in February.

He waves a hand dismissively, rolls his eyes. “It’s part of the thing. The ‘being a good husband’ thing. I can’t fix that. Birth control is a sin or whatever. Jesus is too busy pissing himself over that to care about starving kids in the Soviet Union, I guess.”

“That’s a cheerful prospect.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please, by all means. Throw off all your baggage, I can take it.”

Now he smirks, just faintly. “That’s what we’ve always done for each other, right?”

“We’ll be back on tour in a few weeks, John.” And that was true; the News Of The World Tour was scheduled to begin on November 11th in Portland, Maine. The band would spend the 12th in Boston and join your parents for dinner at the Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia that you grew up in.

He whispers forlornly: “I can’t run from this forever.”

“You might have to. I’d love to know what Slavic Jesus has to say about divorce.”

John coughs out a surprised laugh. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Come on. I posted your bail. I won’t tell Roger if you won’t. You can put the extra five thousand pounds in your ‘fake my own death and go live on a tropical island’ fund instead of paying us back.” You’re not serious, and John knows that; he would never abandon his children, even if they weren’t old enough to really remember him yet. But it has the desired effect, which of course is lifting the mood, making John divulge that rare and beautiful smile.

“I’m a wreck. I can’t go home like this. It’d be worse than not coming home at all.”

“I’m happy to offer you one of our five superfluous bedrooms.”

“Okay,” John sighs, clutching the bars of his jail cell and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this, I really do.”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “Just find a way to send me the coordinates so I can visit you on your secret tropical island once in a while.”

You drive John home to the Surrey house, get him set up in the spare bedroom with the blue-grey wallpaper and blankets patterned with seahorses, give him a stack of Roger’s clean clothes, lay out fresh towels and a tray of water and cookies—biscuits, you reprimand yourself—for him. He’s mostly sober now, which makes you feel somewhat better; still, you are aware that you hate the thought of leaving him alone, even if he’s only a few walls away.

“Thank you,” he says as you stand in the doorway, his face meditative, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat.

“Of course.”

“You’re a good friend. The best, actually.”

“You’re a good man. You don’t always know it, but you are.”

John just stares at you with an expression you can’t read. Like the ocean: always mysterious, always profound. “Goodnight,” he says after a while.

“Goodnight, John.”

As you pull the bedroom door shut, you hear erratic thumps coming up the staircase. Roger stumbles into the upstairs hallway, singing under his breath and drumming the air with invisible drumsticks, and holds out his arms when he sees you. He’s wearing his dark green suit, an unraveling tie, one sparkling pink Converse, his prescription sunglasses tangled in his hair and forgotten. His eyes are effervescent, flighty, almost manic.

“Hey, love of my life!” he cries, comically loud. “What are you doing up?!”

“Shhhhh! Your bassist partied a little too hard and needed a place to crash that wasn’t overrun with kids. He’s in the blue room.”

“Deaks? Deaks is sleeping over?!” Roger exclaims, beaming. “All my favorite people are here!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t bother him. He’s pretty messed up, he needs the rest. I’ll make everyone pancakes in the morning or something. Come over here, let’s get you—” But the words die in your throat as you try to tug off Roger’s suit jacket. Fine white powder sheds off the emerald velvet fabric and onto your palm. You blink at it, at the residue like crushed aspirin, like the salt they scatter on Boston roads the night before a snowfall. “What is this?”

He rips his sleeve away, conjures up a smile to throw you off the trail. To dazzle his way out of this. “Nothing.” But he knows. And he knows you know too.

“You were...snorting coke...?”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He tries to embrace you; you shove him back.

“Roger, no, this is...this is...” You shake your head, shrugging off the shock, searching for the words. You’re confused, you’re exhausted, your mind is whirling. “We’re home, Roger,” you plead, like it means something.

Has he done this before? When? How often? With who?

You should know the answers. It’s not a good sign that you don’t.

“So?” Now he’s indignant.

“So it’s not like being on tour, you’re supposed to take it easy at home, you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, relaxed and recovering and, and, and content...”

You’re not supposed to have an excuse to do all those things that destroy people.

He laughs bitterly. “What, ‘happy at home’?! When has that ever been me?”

“Rog, please, I’m not saying you can’t work all the time or drink or smoke, I’m not even saying you can’t get wasted, I’m just drawing the line at cocaine and I don’t think that’s a terribly despotic place to draw a line.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed it, when did you become too moralistic for drugs?”

“Acid is different than coke and you know it. Acid doesn’t kill people.”

He glares at you, savage, almost hateful. “You don’t get to put me in a cage.”

“I’m not being controlling or self-righteous, I’m being concerned—”

“You’re being a fucking cop, that’s what you’re being,” Roger snaps.

“What do you want me to say?! I’m a registered nurse, Roger, I’m a medical professional, it’s literally my job to keep you alive—”

“No, it’s your job to make sure we can record and tour and I need it, I can’t play without it, don’t you get that?! I fucking need it!”

Instantly, John is between you, still fully dressed and sweating Manhattans out of his pores and seething. He’s taller than Roger; surely you must have noticed that before. But if you had, you’ve since forgotten. “Roger,” he threatens in a low, unyielding voice. “Go to bed.”

Roger recoils, disoriented, then opens his mouth to protest.

“Go!” John roars, pointing towards the main bedroom. He wants to say more, you can tell, he has rage burning in him like dragonfire; and if it had been Brian or even Freddie, John would have said it. But this is Roger. And you can’t remember a time John has ever raised his voice to Roger before now.

Roger can’t wrap his brain around it either, particularly in his present condition. His eyelids flutter a few times, then he scoffs—a dismissive, derisive sound, a sound that says I don’t know what to do with this information—and staggers away. He slams the bedroom door behind him as he disappears inside.

You collapse against the nearest wall and hiss in ragged breaths through your teeth, your eyes wet and stinging, your hands trembling as you press your knuckles to your lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry about that,” you whisper, avoiding John’s eyes.

He’s going to say something, something harsh and terrible but true. He’s finally going to tell me how stupid I was for ever thinking this could work, just like Chrissie and Freddie and Brian. He’s going to tell me I deserve it.

Instead, John offers only this, his words flat and hollow: “Yeah. I’m sorry everyone is disappointing you tonight.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning—early afternoon, really—Roger doesn’t remember; or at least he feigns convincingly that he doesn’t. He props his feet up on the kitchen table and shovels down six pancakes and theatrically relays to you all the scandalous celebrity gossip in the News Of The World magazine with his prescription sunglasses perched bookishly on his nose. He asks you three times if you’re alright, trying to read the hesitance in your eyes, to unearth all those questions that are taking up a permanent residence there. You smile and nod, sip your tea, watch the sharp autumn sunshine as it streams in through the windows and bathes Roger in luminescence that seems so benignly interminable in the light of day. And when you peer into the bedroom with seahorse-patterned blankets and walls the color of cold rain, John has vanished; but the air is heavy with the scent of a litany of cigarettes and there’s a handwritten note left on one pillow.

Thanks for everything. Hang tough, as the Yanks say. An island getaway awaits you.

~ World’s Worst Drunk Driver

At 3 p.m., John calls and asks if the Taylors would be interested in an outing to the park while he gives Veronica a few hours alone to catch up on housework without the kids. His tone is light, casual, harmless; but you suspect he’s checking in on you.

“Of course we’re interested!” Roger says, snatching his ostentatious fur coat off the back of his chair. “Baby, love of my life, go get some cash from the safe so we can buy the kids ice cream.”

Incidentally, there’s not much cash left in the safe; but you find a ten-pound note in your wallet for the ice cream man and make a mental note to run to the bank on Monday.

Hyde Park in October isn’t so different than Boston. The leaves above are a kaleidoscope of sunstone and rubies and jasper and jade, crisping and curling around their serrated edges, drifting listlessly onto pavement paths to be crushed beneath rushing feet; the roots of the trees are centuries deep. Chrissie is walking laps around the pond as she pushes the twins’ stroller; Evelyn is a fairly good sleeper, but Theodore—Teddy to his closest confidants, of which you are one—is an anxious baby and prone to whining. He’s definitely Brian’s son, you often find yourself thinking with an affectionate smirk. John’s ten-month-old daughter Anna is nestled in your arms in a semi-conscious state, having thoroughly exhausted herself by painting her face with chocolate ice cream and thereafter enduring an impromptu bath and wardrobe change in a public restroom.

Laszlo, two years old and with a mop of auburn curls, trots by the edge of the pond as Roger grips his tiny hand, periodically crouches down beside him, grins hugely and points out swans and fish darting through the dark rippling water. Laszlo shrieks with laughter and tries to steal Roger’s sunglasses, which glint in the sunlight like black mirrors.

“So your kid’s a convict too,” you say to John.

“Gotta train them when they’re still small and good for shimmying through dog doors and such.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Extremely hungover, but I’m trying not to show it.”

“You’re doing a good job, I wouldn’t have known.”

“Excellent. I don’t think Veronica noticed. She was very curious about how I ended up in a pair of Roger’s skintight leopard-print pants, though.”

You chuckle, glimpsing down at Anna, rocking her a little as her eyes flitter open and then close again. You and John are on opposite ends of a wooden park bench, your ankles crossed and resting in his lap, your hair rustling in the breeze. John peers over at you periodically, studies you like an ancient statue of Aphrodite or Perseus under a spotlight in an echoing museum, then resumes his sketching. Your smile dies as you watch Roger giggle with Laszlo, lift him high into the cool autumn air, trumpet mock airplane noises in that high, raspy voice.

“Come on,” John prompts, nudging your boots. “I’ll take the baggage if you’ll let me.”

No, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. But you don’t. “It’s my fault,” you say softly. It’s my fault we can’t have children.

John lifts his pencil from the page, his greyish eyes gentle. “You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, it is most likely my fault.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Definitely less than a year. Sometimes these things take time.”

“They didn’t for you and Veronica.”

“Yes, well...” John frowns uneasily. “That’s not always such a blessing.”

“How helpful. You should write newspaper columns for depressed housewives. ‘Don’t worry about that infertility dear, you could have it worse, you could have a life sentence with someone you can’t fucking stand.’”

That was unkind, you think, immediately regretting it. That might have been too far.

But John doesn’t seem offended. His pencil flies over the paper as he glances over at you again. “Is that all? Please continue. I’m riveted to learn more about my alternative career path.”

“No, I think I’m done.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”

You consider that. “Roger always gets me carnations or roses...and I like them, don’t get me wrong...but I don’t know if I’d call either of those my favorite.”

“It’s not that deep a question, Miss Nightingale.”

“I’ll defer to the artist’s expertise. Surprise me.”

“I’m no artist,” John warns, but he returns to his sketching nonetheless. “I’m really sorry about last night, by the way. I was being stupid and dramatic and immature and self-pitying. ‘Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost,’ etcetera etcetera.”

You’re no great connoisseur of Italian literature, but you recognize those famous opening lines of the Inferno. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“What is this fascination you have with Dante?”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles pensively with his eyes cast out over the pond. “I like that his story has a happy ending. That someone can start in hell and sweat out all their sins in purgatory and end up among the stars.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken back, impressed. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“It’s strange, probably,” John says, scrutinizing his drawing.

“No, really. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He’s doubtful, but he’ll allow himself to believe you if you insist.

“Yeah. And no more drunk driving or other acts of self-destruction, okay? Queen would crumble without you, John. And so would I.”

In reply, he rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over. The image is of you: so infinitely more lovely and at peace than you feel, eyes wise and contented and reflecting halos of sunlight, John’s daughter dozing in your arms.

Tucked behind your ear, etched in graphite shadows, is a calla lily.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, what do I look like?” Freddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“A raccoon.”

His face screws into a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a cat.”

“Yes, I’m cognizant of that. But you look like a raccoon. Which is why people keep assuming you’re a raccoon, which is why you’re asking me now if you look like one.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, puffs on a cigarette, fluffs his hair irritably, slurps a drink that is fizzy and sapphire blue.

“The problem is that you went with black and white. You should have dressed as a calico or something. Or a grey cat, oh, I love the chubby grey ones!”

“I’m a musician, darling, not a fucking zoologist.” He exhales a ring of smoke and meanders away.

Queen, the band’s associates, and various music industry figures are all milling around the night-draped mansion. It’s half a Halloween celebration and half a launch party for News Of The World, an album named for the tabloid that Roger both loathes and yet refuses to stop having delivered to the Surrey house. He can’t stand the thought of not being clued into the latest gossip, trends, fashion, awards, of missing any piece of what stardom has to offer. In the spirit of Halloween, Roger is dressed as a tiger, his sleeveless sequined shirt striped with orange and black. You are a veterinarian (not so far a cry from a nurse that you can’t repurpose your old uniform), John a shark (he’s taped a cardboard triangle to his back like a fin), Veronica a sea turtle in a teal dress and with a shell painted over her sizable baby bump, Brian and Chrissie both bright green aliens with antennae bobbing from their headbands. Mary is here as well—outfitted (quite appropriately) like an Enlightenment-era queen—but so is Freddie’s new boyfriend, a shy man named Anthony who is young and handsome and compliant and dressed as a mouse. Mary beams dutifully whenever Freddie is speaking to her, but her expression clouds over when he turns away. She no longer has a gold ring gleaming on her wedding finger, although she did gain an athletic blond date whom she seems largely indifferent to.

As Roger wanders through the crowd shaking hands and howling at jokes, you sip champagne by the snack table and devour an obscene amount of crab puffs. John and Veronica are chatting—unenthusiastically, from what you can tell—nearby with lamb kabobs in their grasps. John passes you a smirk every once in a while, an I’m so over this party and I know you are too smirk of commiseration, and nurses a Manhattan. Chrissie nibbles on disks of cucumber and baby carrots and not much else, which is very unlike her.

“You alright?” you ask worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you? These crab puff things are incredible, I can’t stop eating them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had three dinners so far tonight, I’ve become a monster.”

Chrissie’s lips are a tight, humorless line. “I’m perfectly healthy, I’m just a cow.”

“Chris, honey, don’t!” You pat her shoulder reassuringly with one hand, pop another crab puff into your mouth with the other. “You’re gorgeous, and most women’s bodies change once they have babies, it’s natural!”

“Yeah, well most women aren’t married to men with infinite opportunities to upgrade.”

“Chrissie, no,” you murmur, pained; but you aren’t sure what else to say. She’s not wrong. I wish she was, but she isn’t. And she already knows that.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the reverberating stereo, Stevie Nicks’ sensuous, nasally voice climbing through air choked with strangers and cigarette smoke.

“Now here you go again

You say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?”

Brian bids farewell to some record company executive he was talking to across the room and slips out onto the back porch of the house, and after a moment Chrissie follows him. You resist the temptation to eavesdrop until you can clearly hear their voices, raised and combative, through the sliding glass door. You glance to John, apprehensive.

You better go out there, he mouths, and so you do.

“Thunder only happens when it's rainin'

Players only love you when they're playin'

Say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know...”

Under cold October stars, Chrissie has trapped her horrified-looking husband, backed him into a fountain of a dolphin spewing an endless stream of water from its snout. “Did you think I wouldn’t listen to your own fucking album, Brian?!” She shrieks. “Who is she, huh? Who the fuck is she?!”

You grip her arm and try to lead her away. “Chrissie, babe, not here—”

“It’s Late, Brian? Yeah, it’s real fucking late in your life to still be chasing whores over in America while I’m building your family here, isn’t it?!”

“Love, please, it’s not true,” Brian attempts anemically, reaching for her.

“It is!” Chrissie rages. “It is and it always has been and I was too busy being some blind stupid idiot who loved you to see it!”

She breaks down in tears and you shove Brian away, shoo him back inside. You pitch him a fierce glare as he leaves, retreating like a kicked dog. There’s nothing you can do to fix this, you coward. Because everything she’s saying is true. Chrissie clings to you like a life raft, sobbing into your shoulder, asking what she did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, over and over again; because that’s all there is to say.

Eventually Chrissie quiets, goes still and resigned and numb, and you help her fix her makeup and lead her back inside. You stand with her beside the snack table and swear not to leave her side until the party’s over, until the men are done celebrating yet another triumph that will take them further and further from home. Brian is nowhere to be found.

“That goddamn broodmare,” Chrissie hisses, gulping straight vodka, staring venomously at Veronica.

“Why do you hate her so much? I mean she can be dull, yeah. She’s sanctimonious and naïve and dresses like a freaking Mennonite. But she’s not horrible or anything.” And her life isn’t so perfect either.

“It’s not obvious?” Chrissie asks, her voice like a blade.

“No...?”

Chrissie’s eyes are scorching, although you’re not the person she’s furious with. You just happen to be standing in the path of the storm. “Because she’s the only one of us who’s never going to have to find out what this feels like.”

Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

You try to spot Roger in the teeming room. He’s over by a crackling fireplace, telling stories with dramatic sweeps of his hands, bleeding charisma like sweat, and none of that is unusual at all. One of the people he’s talking to is Dominique Beyrand, and that’s not so unusual either; Richard Branson ends up at a lot of industry events, and Dom trails him around like a shadow, nodding politely and contributing little chirps of conversation in that posh French accent.

But here’s the strange part; here’s the part you’ve never seen before.

When Roger flashes that dazzling smile of his, Dominique smiles back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you’re steeping in a sweltering bubble bath as the phone rings downstairs. You ignore it at first, because the hot water is unraveling all the tension in your muscles and the lurking shadows in your mind, and also because the calendar is hanging right beside the phone in the kitchen and you’re quite committed to ignoring it this morning. But the phone rings again, and again, and you’re aware that it could be something serious; Roger is working on some non-Queen collaboration at a studio in downtown London, and something could have happened to him.

Especially considering his recreational preferences lately.

You scramble out of the tub, pull on a robe that sticks uncomfortably to your dripping skin, leave a path of bathwater footprints down the hallway and steps—slipping twice and clinging to the banister for dear life—before finally careening into the kitchen to snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” you gasp, winded.

It’s not Roger, nor someone calling to inform you that Roger has overdosed or disappeared or vaulted down a staircase or been hit by a bus. It’s Chrissie.

“Have you seen the News Of The World yet?” she demands.

“Ummm, the album...?” Of course I’ve listened to the album. About a million times. You have a particular affinity for Spread Your Wings.

“No, not the album,” she snaps impatiently, although she kindly leaves out the you idiot addition that her tone implicates. “The magazine. Have you seen it today?”

“I was mid-bubble bath and almost broke my neck sprinting for the phone. So no.”

“Good. Don’t read a word. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming over. I’m gonna grab John and come right over.”

“Chris, what—?”

“Do not touch that fucking magazine!” she screams, and hangs up.

Naturally, you don’t listen.

You go to the main door of the Surrey mansion and open it. Sure enough, the new issue of News Of The World is waiting on the porch for you. You pluck it up with damp hands; the whirlpools of your fingerprints stick to the parchment.

On the front page is a photo of Roger, but he’s not alone. He’s scowling at the paparazzo snapping the picture, his face lit up by the flash, painfully and unmistakably stunning. He’s in some sort of alley or side entrance to a restaurant or club. He’s somewhere he’s trying not to be seen, which anyone could tell you is remarkable for Roger Taylor. Beside him is a woman you recognize; and although she’s looking down and trying to hide behind her shock of lustrous black hair, you can see her lips are smiling.

The headline reads: “Queen Drummer Spends Royally on London Love Nest for French Mistress.”

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