#sometimes when there are too many good moments to draw in a summary comic you have to abridge them into something that gets the vibes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This is the start of something new

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[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE 

Summary:  Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi 

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART --> 

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?” 

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time. 

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement. 

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all. 

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.” 

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh. 

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back. 

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences? 

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol. 

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones. 

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles. 

“It’s just--so old and tacky.” 

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?” 

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter. 

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart. 

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form. 

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him. 

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----

[reidingmelodies]

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

 When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm.  Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different.  You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight.  The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day.  I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck.  I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.  

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning!  So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.  

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day.  His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children.  They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together.  You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park.  Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure).  But donuts instead of ice cream?  That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family.  Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase.  Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back.  In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door.  He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.  

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!  Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy!  Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug.  You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts?  You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping.  And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer.  They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so!  This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question.  “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list.  Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys!  Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so!  This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second.  They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer.  He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second.  They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

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[vantaenims]

the lonely hearts club | jungkook

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers | fluff, humor, angst

word count: 17.5k

warning/s: break ups, alcohol consumption, profanity, cheating, making out, mentions of divorce.

summary: A story of how two lost humans in the cruel world of love managed to find each other in a sea full of failed relationships, heartbreaks, and drunken karaoke nights but could they truly find the love they’re looking for through each other?

✧ fic teaser ✧

masterlist

all rights reserved © vantaenims - do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

--

Sunday Mornings are the best time of the week for eight year old Jungkook since it’s the only time he gets to wake up to both of his parents on his side, cuddling him up like they just not told him last night and many other nights that he should sleep in his own room, considering that he’s already becoming a big boy but Sundays has become an exception for that.

That is until one morning when Jungkook woke up and found himself all alone in his parent’s king sized bed. He’s trying to outgrow being a crybaby but he can’t help how tears started to prick his eyes, feeling betrayed at their absence. Without a second thought, he threw away the comforter hastily as he jumped out of the bed and went straight out of the door with loud thudding steps as the immature boy he was.

Descending the stairs, Jungkook was ready to throw a fit as soon as he saw his mother mopping the floor of their living room but he was quite dumbfounded when his father grabbed the mop off of his mother’s hand, taking her hand instead to pull her in for a dance of cha cha along to the love song playing in the background which is The Spiral Starecase’s More Today Than Yesterday.

Jungkook wiped his tear stained cheeks as he sat down on the stairs, clutching the banisters so he could insert his face in between them and thought how his mom and dad looked like they were having a lot of fun despite how awful and silly their dancing was. Nonetheless, it made Jungkook smile, that is until his mom suddenly slipped on the still wet floor. Thankfully, his dad caught her in time, making the both of them erupt in laughter at how foolish they were being.

It was a sight to see how light hearted that moment was and that was the exact time Jungkook felt the immense warmth of his parent’s love with each other, leaving him to wish that someday he’ll find a love like his parents.

And that was how Jungkook began to develop a deep sense of faith in love.

It’s the image of his mom and dad dancing to love songs every Sunday Morning that has gotten him so smitten about the idea of love and that is how he thinks he became a hopeless romantic who believes that love makes the world go round.

But it seems like the world is treating him rather unfairly and indifferent with the way he keeps on getting involved in countless failed relationships. Love turned out far from what he expected and it can’t be helped that his faith in love is starting to dwindle down but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he gives up on the idea of it yet although he sometimes asks himself.

Is love even worth a shot at this point?

Specially, when today just happened to be the day he got dumped by Cho Hee, his girlfriend or rather his ex-girlfriend for about six months which is not too long of a time but in Jungkook’s case, it’s the longest one he got into out of his previous short-lived relationships.

Break ups shouldn’t be that big of a deal for him by now as it has become some sort of a norm to him but that doesn’t mean that he’s spared from the pain. Atleast, it’s comforting to know that there’s someone who could totally empathize with his misfortunes about love and someone who suffers through the same fate as him – you.

Jungkook met you back in sophomore year when you joined the school newspaper as the new feature writer. The both of you got the chance to be closer when you were assigned to cover the university’s 75th anniversary event along with him as the photographer and that’s how he ended up always being tied with you.

Well, event coverages aren’t the only thing that made you closer because you see, failed relationships just happened to be one of your commonalities and there’s only one place that ties down two miserable beings together.

Usually, you take a break in life and embark on a soul searching trip to compensate for your heart’s misery but that seems pretty unattainable for two college students who live off of their parent’s allowance.

It’s nothing grandiose but the place is enough for the both of you to distract your minds away from all of those heartbreaks just by singing your hearts out because apparently, karaoke nights are better when you’re broken hearted.

The familiar LED signage with a word ‘Soundcheck’ on it is what flashed brightly in front of Jungkook once the doors of the elevator opened at the third floor of the building just near the campus.

“Oh Jungkook” Hyunseok, the receptionist, whom he had gotten close to by now greeted him as soon as he stepped inside the establishment. Jungkook went on to grip his hand, pulling him to give him a pat on his shoulder, “Y/N’s already here, by the way.”

“Oh is she?” Well, that’s a first, considering that you’re always late by five or ten minutes after he arrived.

“Yeah, she ordered a bucket of beer, some food, and she also told me that you’ll be paying for it” Hyunseok chuckled.

“Okay” Jungkook smiled as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth but he nonetheless took out his wallet since he’s the one who invited you here tonight, “What room?”

“Same room as always”

Jungkook nodded, waving a salute to Hyunseok as he walked along the hallway that’s surrounded by muffled sounds coming from each room but he could easily distinguish your loud off-key singing when he rounded the corner.

Twisting the knob, Jungkook took in the sight of the dimly lit room that’s only illuminated with the electric disco ball attached to the ceiling. On the other hand, you’re totally too immersed into the song that you didn’t even notice his presence as you continue to hit the notes with your eyes closed while simultaneously jumping up and down.

Jungkook went to sit down on the black leather couch, grabbing himself a plate of french fries from the table as he continue to amusedly watch you belt out the lyrics of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen and when the bridge of the song came, you turned around and suddenly got startled to see Jungkook already there.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you shouted into the mic, drawing the last part of his name longer like you’re some type of an announcer in a boxing match and as if it isn’t comical enough, you picked up the tambourine as you shake it vigorously, “How are you feeling tonight,  Jungkook-ssi?”

“Good” he said in a monotonous voice.

“Doesn’t sound like it” you said as dramatic as ever, shoving the mic again into his face “How are you feeling?”

Jungkook would ride on your silly antics on a normal day but he can’t keep up with your energy right now so he just sent you a small smile as he placed the plate back onto the table. Your question definitely threw off a bit of his composure and he bit his lip as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

“Is it that bad?” you asked in all seriousness this time as you set aside the mic and tambourine to take a closer look at him.

Sighing, Jungkook threw back his head against the couch as he pinched the bridge of his nose, chuckling even to get a grip of himself.

“Oh no are you going to cry?” you didn’t even purposefully say it to mock him but he hates how it makes him cry everytime and maybe, he really never outgrew being a crybaby.

Awkwardly, you sat down beside him to pat his head but you stopped, thinking how you stupidly looked like you were petting a dog instead so you just moved your hands down to his shoulders.

Honestly speaking, you’re not the best person when it comes to comforting others but it’s questionable why Jungkook chose you to be his go-to person when you’re clearly bad at it.

“What happened?”

“Cho Hee broke up with me”, Jungkook wiped his tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt as bitterness started to rise inside him, “Ah i can’t believe that i was right along when i said that this relationship felt so one sided.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to know her reason?”

“What?” you asked as you scooted closer, curious to know why.

“She said that we’re not compatible because she’s a Gemini and i’m a Virgo.”

You gauge Jungkook’s expression to see if he was joking but he said it so earnestly that you had to purse your lips as you try your best to contain your laughter but you soon gave in as Jungkook met your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I swear”, you said in between laughs as you clutch your stomach, “but are you serious?”

“She told me that it is the reason why our relationship isn’t working”, Jungkook unlocked his phone as he read something over his screen. You can’t help but take a peek as you see that Jungkook’s reading a series of text messages from Cho Hee.

[Thursday, May 28, 8:01 AM]

Cho Hee ❤️ : Jungkook

Cho Hee❤️ : I’m breaking up with you because it looks like this relationship isn’t working and i think it’s because we’re not compatible to begin with.

Cho Hee ❤️ : A Virgo and Gemini don’t go together.

Cho Hee ❤️ : Sorry...

“Oh no, she broke up with you through text” you said, laughing even more despite Jungkook's unamused look yet he later found himself smiling along with you after he realized how it sounded more ridiculous when he said Cho Hee’s reason out loud but that still doesn’t make up for his sour mood.

“Aren’t you supposed to comfort me here?” Jungkook said, squinting his eyes at you.

“Of course but you know, you can never blame Cho Hee for being a firm astrological believer”, you bumped your shoulder against Jungkook as you calmed yourself down from your laughing frenzy.

“Well, she could’ve just told me that she didn’t love me instead of that crap”,  Jungkook reached out onto the table to get himself a bottle of beer to swig on.

“I guess, it’s time to sing our go-to break up song then”, you grabbed the remote as you pressed the song numbers in while mimicking the karaoke machine’s voice.

You stood up on your feet once you heard the guitar intro of Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson played whilst Jungkook didn’t move an inch besides to drink that is.

“Join me”, you passed him the other mic to which he took but he still didn’t make any move to sing or stand up.

Eventually, you went on to sing by yourself as energetic as ever, specially when the chorus part came, prompting you to jump wildly with your arms flailing, causing Jungkook to smile at how ridiculous you were being.

“The bridge part’s coming” you grabbed his hand, tugging him up to stand but Jungkook is purposefully making it hard for you to do so by making himself heavier just to tease you and test your patience and not long after, you swatted his hand away as you playfully rolled your eyes, leaving him satisfied with your reaction.

Jungkook waited for the last part of the bridge before he stood up to interrupt your moment by belting out the high note perfectly which got you startled for a second as you turned to look at him and you’re glad to see that he’s finally okay, well, at least for now.

You hit his arm for ruining your moment as you try to feign annoyance, “You’re supposed to sing it badly that’s – SINCE YOU BEEN GONE!”

Jungkook doubled in laughter as he slung his arm around your shoulder. The two of you continued to sing to your heart’s content while also jumping in unison, leaving you exhausted as you tried to catch your breath by the time the song ended.

“You good?” you said in the middle of your coughing fit from straining your throat too much as you collapsed back on the couch, turning your head sideways to look at Jungkook.

“Better”,  Jungkook said as he went back on his feet, tugging you to stand along with him.

—

There are no assignments due, no presentations to prepare, and no thesis revisions needed to be done so what better way to spend the weekend than playing games for hours.

Jungkook was roughly forty five minutes into the game of League of Legends when his phone went off. Glancing at it, your name popped up onto his screen, leaving him to wonder as to why you’d call him when you’re in the middle of a dinner date with some boy you met through a dating app.

“Hello?” Jungkook said as he removed his headphones, replacing his phone to press it against his ear with the support of his shoulder.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?”

“What?” he furrowed his brows, wondering why you sound so frantic.

“You got into a car crash!? Where are you!?” you said in a higher pitch this time.

“What are you talking about?”

“Where are you?”

“Uh Grounds?” he told you the name of the PC Bang where he is currently at but still confused with whatever you’re up to.

“Okay, I'll go there” you said as you hung up just like that, leaving him hanging for the sudden odd phone call.

Nonetheless, he put back his headphones in as he went back to focus on his game, leaving the whole thing for him to think about for later since he’s still in the middle of the game. In fact, he was so focused into the game that he had failed to notice that you had already managed to arrive and sit down right next to the cubicle beside him fifteen minutes later.

Once the game ended, he reclined back to his seat as he twisted his upper body side to side which enabled him to catch a glimpse of a girl in a black puff sleeve dress next to him. The outfit clearly made her stand out from the rest but he had to do a double take once he realized that the overdressed girl right next to him is you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie”, you pointed to your screen as he leaned towards your cubicle, catching a glimpse of a scene from the movie called Romeo + Juliet.

Jungkook rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, spinning his chair to face you, “What was that earlier? And why are you eating so much for someone who just had dinner?”

A server just laid down a tray filled with instant noodles, hotdog bun, onion fries, and a soda onto your table. Jungkook was about to get some onion fries until you slapped his hand away, glaring at him as you popped a fries into your mouth whilst you adjusted yourself in a more comfortable sitting position by removing your shoes to cross your legs.

“I’m hungry and the date was awful”, you shrugged as you continue to watch the movie.

“Didn’t you have dinner yet?”

“I did but the prick ordered for me a fucking stale salad when i originally wanted a rib eye steak and i just knew i had to get out of there when he randomly pulled up his shirt to show me the  scars he got for playing football or needless to say, he just wanted to show off his oh so perfect abs”, you shaked your head, cringing once you remembered how you felt embarrassed for him when everyone in the restaurant turned their attention towards your table.

Jungkook snorted, “Maybe he just wants to impress you?”

“Yeah, well, I'm very impressed with how he managed to just talk about himself for the whole date” you rolled your eyes but you immediately got distracted when Jungkook just got served with a steaming hot cup of noodles.

“That looks delicious”, you brought in your chopsticks towards the cup noodles, eyeing it despite feeling full but your stomach says otherwise. Disappointingly, the cup of noodles was taken away out of your reach as Jungkook proceeded to slurp a mouthful of noodles, not even caring that it’s still piping hot.

“It’s hot” Jungkook repeatedly said as he made a face once he felt his tongue being burned, causing him to tear up a little as he tried not to spit it out.

You took this chance to get a hold of the cup noodles but Jungkook stopped you, widening his eyes as he shaked his head no at you, “There’s crab sticks in there”, he warned you, considering you’re allergic to shellfish.

“You’re cruel”, you laughed as you noticed that some broth managed to splatter on his chin, making you get a tissue from your bag as you wiped it for him but Jungkook was quick to grab the piece of tissue from you, muttering a thanks as he wiped his whole mouth.

Leaving the game, Jungkook went on to Netflix to search for the same movie you’re watching as he peered over your monitor to see what part of the movie you were in so he could synchronize with you.

“Ah Y/N, how long are we going to be unlucky?” Jungkook said, pertaining to your previous discussion, “Actually, I'm the unlucky one since you’re the one who always ends things.”

“How am i not unlucky? I always end up dating guys with red flags and I end things right away as soon as I notice that red flag,” you defended.

“But don’t you give them some time to confront them about it and give them a chance to improve?” Jungkook asked as his hand sneakily made way towards your onion fries, smiling to himself as he popped in the fries into his mouth.

“Trust me, I've learnt my lesson and as the old saying goes – ‘prevention is better than cure’” ,you playfully winked at him.

“How?” Jungkook looked at you as he awaited your answer but you didn’t answer, probably too annoyed at how his curiosity is comparable to a child with all of his unending questions so he just continued to watch the film that is until you spoke, quite seriously he might add.

“I wasn’t snooping or anything but I got bored one time and managed to borrow my dad’s phone to play games and a text popped out from my aunt saying, ‘what cake should i get?’ and ‘red velvet’s nice, right’, thinking it was for me since my 12th birthday was coming but my aunt got me a chocolate cake instead.”

Jungkook pushed his chair near you, eager for you to continue your story even though he doesn’t know where you’re trying to get at or if this is even related to what he just asked.

“I thought maybe the red velvet flavor ran out so I just shrugged it off and I think about a week after my birthday, I was playing on my dad’s phone again and a text from my aunt popped up again saying, ‘Thanks for the red velvet cake. Happy 2 Years Anniversary to us <3’ and that’s when i thought i wished i never knew what that red velvet cake is for.”

“Shit, what?” Jungkook widened his eyes as he bit his thumb.

“I thought the reason my dad would always bring me to my aunt’s place after school every Friday is that I could get to play with my cousins and that’s the red flag I didn’t care to notice.”

Jungkook tried to read your face to see if the memory still affects you ‘til to this day but it seems not like it. You were being nonchalant while speaking about it as if it isn’t some big of a deal although he could definitely make out your serious tone.

“How is your mom?” Jungkook asked with more caution.

You shrugged as you still remained your eyes on the screen, “Well, my mom found out about it a few months later and they eventually got a divorce.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”

“It’s okay. Anyway, It’s ages ago”,  you smiled before your eyes light up as you pointed to the screen, “Oh, look at Romeo and Juliet’s costume. We should wear that for Sunwoo’s Halloween Party, what do you think?”

Sunwoo happens to be the Editor in Chief of the school newspaper and he announced earlier on during the board meeting that he’ll throw a Halloween party this year but that’s not what’s important right now.

It was clearly noticeable you weren’t comfortable anymore to talk further about your parents as soon as you changed the topic. Jungkook felt sorry and worried about you but he decided to just drop it off as he agreed to your halloween costume suggestion.

You might not realize this when you said that you’re okay since it was ages ago but Jungkook could easily tell that it made a big impact on you, specifically on how you handle your relationships which gave him a better grip of understanding now that you weren’t just ending things for the sake of finishing it.

You’re just scared when you shouldn’t be but how could he blame you? Dads should set the bar high for their children but your dad just had to set it so low that he had caused you irreparable damage or worse, caused you your first heartbreak.

Jungkook’s misfortunes in love does not do justice to what you went through and he has come to realize that love isn’t just Sunday mornings and love songs but it could be a whole lot worse with it’s ugly side of after school Fridays and red velvet cakes.

--

Once again, Jungkook found himself at Soundcheck, not to sing but to do a whole lot of listening to you gush over Minho, your new boyfriend for about two months now. According to you, you met Minho during high school and had a big crush on him before but it didn’t go past that until you reconnected with him recently when you discovered that he’s in your Investigative Journalism subject.

Your relationship with Minho started out pretty soon, right after a week since your awful date with that football player from the dating app to be exact.

“Okay, one last song” you exclaimed as you got off the couch after resting a little while.

“I thought that was the last one?” Jungkook closed his eyes in exhaustion as he slid himself sideways to the couch, “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’ll pick a mellow song then” you searched through the song list and shouted an ‘aha!’ in joy as you picked up the remote to enter the song numbers right away.

Jungkook stared at the television, waiting for the screen to show the song title and he just had to sit back up once Emergency Room by Izi flashed on the screen, “Don’t you know that this song is superstitious to sing in a karaoke?”

“Is that the one where it’s believed that you might literally end up in an emergency room if you happen to sing it in a karaoke?”, Jungkook nodded his head while you could only roll your eyes, “Oh come on, Emergency Room is a must in karaoke and that’s why it’s called a superstition, Jungkook. It’s not real”

“Well, It doesn’t hurt to believe one, does it?”

You shrugged as you turn a deaf ear by singing the whole song by yourself, insistently proving that it’s just a stupid superstition like the others.

“So far, so good, hm?” you beamed a contemptuous smile as you finished the song.

“Let’s just go to Eomma’s, I'm hungry”, Jungkook shook his head as he grabbed your hand, dragging you outside of the room and into the elevator, pressing the ground floor button.

Eomma’s Tteokbokki is a hole in the wall restaurant located right beside the building where Soundcheck is and it is owned by a 72 year old woman named Han Ji Hye but everyone who frequents the place just calls her ‘Eomma’.

“Jungkook and Y/N, you’re here again” Eomma greeted the both of you as soon as you entered the restaurant. Despite her age, Eomma has a very sharp memory and remembers each and every one of her loyal customers, even treating them just like her children – Eomma sure does live up to her nickname.

“Of course, Eomma. How could i not come back to the most delicious tteokbokki i’ve ever tasted ”, you winked at her as you raised both of your hands to give her a thumbs up.

“Ah you kids always flatter me”, Eomma placed both of her hands above her heart, “You’ll be getting the classic tteokbokki as always, right?”

“As expected, Eomma knows us so well”, Jungkook smiled.

“You’re really such a handsome young boy, isn’t he Y/N?” Eomma pinched his cheeks as she turned to look at you but you could only laugh as soon as you saw Jungkook adorably scrunched his nose.

“Ah Eomma, i might be convinced if you keep on saying that” Jungkook said through his gritted teeth.

“Is he?” you raised your eyebrows as you teasingly looked at Jungkook.

“Oh dear, you’re missing out. I’d marry my granddaughter to him if only i have one around his age but in case you change your mind, you better invite me to your wedding – you’d make a great pair!”

Jungkook shyly caressed his hair behind his ears as he pursed his lips and he just had to cover his face once he felt his face getting warmer by the second and you aren’t also an exception for Eomma’s teasing as you felt yourself getting shy, making you chug a glassful of water just to hide it.

“Alright, let me just get your orders”, Eomma chuckled as she patted both of your shoulders.

Peering through his fingers, Jungkook waited for Eomma to disappear into the kitchen but you wrapped your hands around his wrist as you tried to pry it away from his face as you went on to tease him.

“Come on, why are you hiding your handsome face?” you laughed but got startled all of a sudden once you heard your phone vibrating against the metal table.

Jungkook willingly took his hands off his face as he watched you pressed your phone against your ear, already guessing that Minho is probably on the other end of the line.

Eomma came by to serve the tteokbokki, telling you to eat to your heart’s content before disappearing once again behind the kitchen. Jungkook proceeded to eat first as he tried not to eavesdrop into your conversation that is until you called his attention.

“Is it okay if Minho’s joining us?”  you asked as you pry your phone away from your ear.

Jungkook paused for a bit before he could answer, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Great” you smiled as you then told Minho over the phone to come over at Eomma’s.

Well, this is new. The both of you have never met each other’s significant other – except for Cho Hee since you went to highschool with her but besides that, the both of you have never bothered to begin with, considering how they just come and go so why go through all that trouble now?

“So, is that the reason why you wanted to have a late dinner with me?” he slowly drew out the words as he tilted his head to the side.

“Well, i think it’s just a matter of time for you to meet him”, you shrugged as you placed down your phone and grabbed the chopsticks off the utensils holder.

“I thought we don’t do that?” Jungkook chuckled as he looked across you.

“I know and this may sound cliche but…” you tried to chew first the tteokbokki but you can’t contain your smile as you thought of the next sentence you’ll say and now you looked like a cheeky chipmunk, “Minho’s different.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“He’s actually very very nice like he’s such an angel and he’s just that kind of person you’d want to introduce to your family” you explained with glimmer in your eyes like you just discovered one of the most lustrous diamond on earth and by that, he could tell just how smitten you are with Minho and that’s when he weirdly felt the twinge of envy inside him.

“Oh here he is” you sat up straight as you raised your hand to call Minho.

Jungkook turned around and suspected the boy clad in a blue flannel shirt and black jeans to be Minho when he saw him walking over towards your table.

“Hey”, Minho leaned down, pulling you in a one sided hug as he kissed your cheek, making you flustered until you realized that Jungkook’s probably cringing at your display of affection.

“Oh um Minho this is Jungkook, Jungkook Minho” you pointed them towards each other, smiling brightly as you clasped your hands together right after.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook” Minho extended his hand for Jungkook to shake but Jungkook remained in his seat, sizing him up until you kicked his foot.

“Glad to finally meet you too, Minho” Jungkook stood up as he firmly shaked his hand.

“Okay, why don’t we all sit down?” you interjected when you noticed the visible awkwardness between the two.

You guided Minho to sit down on your left side as you called over one of the servers to ask for the menu. On the other hand, Jungkook watched in amusement at your sudden change of character, smiling to himself as he went back to eat.

[Thursday, Sept 18, 9:33 PM]

You: BE NICE

Jungkook glanced towards his phone then to you after reading out your message and he tried his best not to snort when he saw you widening your eyes at him as if that’ll threaten him. Nonetheless, he’ll be willing to follow through whatever you want since it looks like you’re very keen to make him and Minho get along.

“So uh you went to the same high school with Y/N, right?” Jungkook asked, initiating to start and engage into some small talk even though he despises it.

“Yeah and it’s funny to think how small the world is huh?”, Jungkook furrowed his brows at his statement, “Y/N told me you’re dating Cho Hee.”

“Did she?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you while you just silently sat there as you poke on your food to avoid his glare.

“You know what? Why don’t we invite Cho Hee here, we could do a double date”, Minho suggested as he nudged you with his elbow.

You scratched the nape of your neck as you let out a chuckle that sounds way out too forced, “I’m going to go in the restroom real quick.”

Jungkook remained his gaze at you until you’re out of his sight, turning back his attention to Minho, “Um, we broke up.”

“Oh really? I'm so sorry i didn’t know”

“It’s fine”, Jungkook quickly dismissed Minho, making the whole atmosphere awkward all of a sudden. Thankfully, Minho found a way to fill in the uncomfortable silence as he changed the topic.

“You’re majoring in Information Systems, right?” Minho asked and Jungkook wondered what’s the point of doing this small talk when you have already shared loads of unnecessary information about Minho, heck he even knows he has a phobia of chickens because he was attacked by one when he was child in his grandfather’s poultry farm and he could only guess that Minho probably knows everything about him too.

“Yeah”

“Then you probably know Professor Seo?” Minho asked as he planted his elbows on top of the table after ordering.

“Yeah he was my advisor during my feasibility study last year, made my junior year eventually a hell with the constant revisions that shouldn’t be even revised just because he’s being so stupidly meticulous”, Jungkook blabbered, trying at least to exert some effort into this conversation, “How do you know him?”

“He’s my uncle”, and with that being said, Jungkook choked up on his food, prompting Minho to get him a glass of water, passing it to him.

Well, fuck. Why have you not mentioned that to him before?

“But yeah, I get it, me and my cousins hate how he’s sometimes strict with us too”, Minho smiled, leaving Jungkook to decipher if it’s a fake one or genuine. Nonetheless, Jungkook let out a nervous chuckle as he eyed the restroom, wondering when are you going to come out to save him from his embarrassment.

As if the gods had heard his prayers, the server went by the table to put down Minho’s order of tteokbokki whilst his phone went off just in time to save his dignity.

“Excuse me”, Jungkook stood up as he went outside the restaurant to answer the call from his thesis mate.

As soon as he answered the call, his thesis mate endlessly rambled on about how his brain had managed to dried up from creating different survey questions only for them to end up getting rejected by their advisor hence why he’s calling Jungkook to ask for help.

Jungkook was put on the spot as he tried to brainstorm for plausible questions although it took him some time but he ended up contributing five questions so at least there’s that to save his thesis mate.

Once the call ended, Jungkook went back inside to see a bit of commotion going on around your table. Minho was rubbing his hands at your back as he looked at you with an equally confused face whilst the server from a while ago was trying to assess the situation by asking you a question but your coughing fit prevents you from speaking up.

“What’s happening?” Jungkook asked the same question the server was just asking.

“I think she’s choking” the server handed a glass of water to Minho who took it to put it against your mouth, assisting you whilst continuously patting your back but it took no effect to cease your coughing fit.

“I can’t breathe” you heaved as you scratch your neck and that’s when Jungkook noticed your watery eyes and your face that’s starting to swell. Pulling up the sleeves of your jacket, his guess was right when he saw hives littering your arm – you’re having an allergic reaction.

“Do you have an antihistamine with you?” Jungkook asked you as you shook your head no, remembering how you had just brought only your wallet with you and that’s how he began to get frantic.

“I’ll hail a cab, we need to get her to the hospital” Jungkook rushed towards the door but Minho stopped him before he could get outside.

“I’ve taken my car with me”, Minho told Jungkook as he hoisted you up by putting his arm around you, guiding you towards the outside and into his car. On the other hand, Jungkook went straight to the cashier to pay for the bill before he dashed out of the restaurant to follow suit.

Minho started the car once Jungkook got in the backseat, speeding right away to the nearest hospital. Jungkook leaned forward towards the center console as he worriedly looked at you

“What’s happening with her?” Minho looked totally lost as he looked over at you then towards Jungkook for some answer.

“She’s having an allergic reaction”, Jungkook stated the obvious fact, “What did she eat?”

“I ordered the new flavored tteokbokki then she just grabbed a bite or two, that’s it” Minho said in his defense.

“The cheesy shrimp one!?” Jungkook widened his eyes.

“Yeah, is she allergic to shrimp? But I thought she’s allergic to seashells though?”

Jungkook looked at Minho dead in the eyes, wondering if your boyfriend is seriously trying to make a joke right now or is he just plain stupid? With the way he looks so serious asking him about it, he could confirm that it’s the latter.

“You meant to say shellfish, right?” Jungkook grumbled as he tried to remain calm, knowing that your boyfriend isn’t actually clueless about your allergy but he sure is careless to forget that one important thing about you.

Jungkook was pulled out of his anger as soon as a sob escaped from you, making him turn his attention at you, just in time to see you clutching the collar of your shirt as if you’d want to loosen them with the way you looked like you were gasping for air while your shoulders heaved.

“I can’t breathe”, you said in between shaky breaths, “I’m going to die.”

“Hey, try not to cry, okay? It’ll be harder for you to breathe” Jungkook instructed Minho to roll down your windows as he warmly smiled at you once you looked at him but you quickly diverted your eyes to Minho when he gently grabbed your hand, squeezing it to reassure you.

“We’re near and I promise, I’m not going to let you die” Minho told you as he steered his eyes away from the road for a moment to look at you oh so lovingly like he isn’t the reason why you were like this in the first place, causing Jungkook to internally cringe.

Not too long, Minho drove the car to the driveway slope of the emergency bay and Jungkook quickly hopped off the car, opening your door as he removed your seatbelt for you, wrapping his arm around your back and under your knees when you slightly pushed his shoulder, stopping his movements.

“I can walk”, you weakly voice out.

Jungkook let out an exasperated sigh as he went on instead to grab your arm, slinging it around his shoulder while he held you securely close to him by wrapping his arm around your waist, hoisting you up out of your seat and towards the entrance.

“Is your pride really that important?” Jungkook reprimanded you.

Once the automatic doors opened, a nurse stationing the desk nearby the entrance rushed in to your aid. Jungkook explained the whole thing to the nurse and she was quick to get a wheelchair for you as she wheeled you towards one of the vacant beds.

Jungkook stood at the end of the bed, crossing his arms as he anxiously bit down on his thumb whilst he watched the two nurses move you towards the bed. They try to ask you your name or simply assure you to try to stay you calm as they put on an oxygen mask for you to breathe properly.

Thankfully, your breathing started to come back to normal when they injected a shot of epinephrine into your thigh. The nurse removed your jacket for you as they rolled up the sleeves of your shirt to wrap the cuff of the blood pressure monitor around your arm.

“How is she?” Minho asked as he suddenly appeared beside Jungkook, startling him a bit.

“They just gave her an epinephrine” Jungkook told him without taking his eyes off of you as he gave you a reassuring smile when he saw your still worrisome face.

The nurse came up to Jungkook after she had taken down your vital signs, “Are you her boyfriend?”

“Uh no, he is”,  Jungkook pointed to Minho as he rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck.

“Oh I’m very sorry” the nurse apologized as she turned her attention to Minho to ask him a few questions and to also fill out some paperwork.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook asked as he went to sit down on one of the chairs beside the bed.

“Good”, you heaved out a sigh, “I should’ve listened to you.”

“About what?” Jungkook furrowed his brows, clueless to what you’re referring to.

“I should’ve not sung Emergency Room.”

Jungkook closed his eyes as he smiled, tiling his head to the side, “I thought you were being serious there.”

The sound of the curtains closing swiftly caused the both of you to turn your attention towards the nurse and Minho who just ended their conversation. Minho walked towards the side of the bed where Jungkook is currently seated, prompting him to stand up and give his seat to him as he chose to idly stand at the end of the bed instead, watching the two of you converse.

“I’ll just go to the convenience store outside”, Jungkook announced, quite finding it awkward to be a third wheel inside that cramped cubicle room.

The trip to the convenience store didn’t take him too long as he’s now entering the automatic doors of the emergency room with a white plastic bag on his hand, containing refreshments for the three of you. He was about to open the curtains of your cubicle but he stopped himself when he overheard Minho’s words, not wanting to get in the way of your conversation just yet.

“Shit, i forgot to pick up my sister”, Minho said, panic evident in his voice.

“Oh, right, you should go'' you muttered albeit disappointedly.

“Are you sure?”

Your boyfriend is completely incredulous to say that, knowing you were in a critical situation minutes ago and Jungkook knew that he just had to interject into your conversation, “I’ll take her home.”

Minho was dumbfounded for a bit when Jungkook shoved the bottle of cold brew right away into his hand and he was left to think how nice Jungkook is but his not so subtle aggressive action says otherwise.

“Okay then”, Minho shrugged as he leaned down to you, planting a kiss right on your forehead, “Keep me updated, okay?” you nodded as you watched Minho go over to Jungkook, pulling him in for a half hug as he thanked him for the drink.

Minho looked over at you one last time, waving his hand before he disappeared right as he went out through the curtains. Sighing, you laid your head back against the pillow, staring right through the creamy white ceiling when a box of apple juice appeared right before you.

“And for you”, you grabbed the juice from Jungkook as you sat yourself upright, opening the box as you punched the straw through the hole.

“Thanks”, you said as you took a sip.

“So, he left to pick up his sister huh?” Jungkook asked as he sat on the side of the mattress.

It really wasn’t hard for you to miss his snide remark and it can’t be helped that Minho might’ve not sat well with Jungkook considering all of the events for tonight, giving Minho a bad first impression for Jungkook.

“Minho’s really going to fetch his sister tonight. He just dropped by at Eomma’s because it’s on his way”, you defended as you try to justify Minho’s action.

“Still, aren’t you here because you’re allergic to seashells?” Jungkook smiled in a condescending way.

You chuckled as you kicked his side with your leg, “Don’t be so hard on him besides, it was an accident.”

“Ow, that kick sure is harder” Jungkook hissed as he rubbed his sides, acting as if your kick was really that strong and forceful when it’s not.

Jungkook immediately hopped off the bed as soon as the doctor came in but she was quick to dismiss him, telling him it’s fine. Nonetheless, Jungkook chose to stand, watching Doctor Kim – as it says on her coat –  switch on her penlight, instructing you to open your mouth.

“What did you eat?” the doctor asked you as she examined the chart.

“I had a tteokbokki but i didn’t know that it had some shrimp on it.”

“Okay and have you ever had this type of reaction before?” Doctor Kim asked as she clicked her click pen against the clipboard to write down what you’re saying.

“No, I usually just take an antihistamine for my allergy.”

Doctor Kim nodded as she reviewed the chart one last time before she spoke up, “Alright, so what you went through is called an anaphylactic shock which is a severe allergic reaction that can be very life threatening if not treated immediately but thankfully, you were taken care of. Since it's the first time you got this reaction, I'd recommend that you carry an EpiPen with you from now on just to be cautious for future attacks like these.”

“Will I be discharged now?” you asked when you suddenly remember that you still have an unfinished essay to work on.

Doctor Kim chuckled at how you sounded like an impatient kid, “Well, not yet because you’re still under observation and we need to make sure that you won’t have a second reaction. Also, i have to put you through an antihistamine IV drip to lessen the swelling on your throat.”

“Oh okay” you said, sounding unsure as your mind is too busy thinking if you’d be able to finish your essay and pass it on time.

“Alright, i’ll be checking on you from time to time, okay?” Doctor Kim smiled as you thanked her.

As Doctor Kim left, you pressed your fingers against your temples, sighing as you unlocked your phone to stare at your essay that still needs 1,000 words for you to finish it but nothing seems to come up to your mind when you try to brainstorm for ideas.

“What’s the matter?” Jungkook asked out of curiosity.

“I have an essay due before midnight and I’m still not yet done.”

“What is it about?”

Before you could even reply, a nurse came in to set up the IV fluid solution bag by suspending it on an infusion stand, “Hi, i’ll be inserting the IV now, okay?”

You watched the nurse wrap a tourniquet around your wrist as she palpates the skin atop of your hand, looking for a prominent vein. The catheter hasn’t even pricked your skin yet but you had already turned your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut as soon as the nurse swabbed the sterowipe atop of your hand.

Stifling a laugh, Jungkook enclosed his hand around yours for you to hold on to but he was not expecting for you to grip his hand so tightly as if your life depended on it, making him grimace in pain.

“Okay, you’re done” the nurse told you as she opened the roller clamp to let the fluid flow through your veins.

“Thank you”, you smiled.

“That was one hell of a grip”, Jungkook shook his hand, “Were you going to crush my bones?”

“Sorry”, you apologized as you immediately went back to look on your phone, skimming through your essay.

“What is it about?” Jungkook repeated.

“It’s fine, It’s not like you could really help me with it” you waved your hand, dismissing him.

“Are you underestimating me?” Jungkook  squinted his eyes as he leaned closer towards you.

You withdrew your eyes away from the screen just to roll your eyes at Jungkook, “It’s about Marxism and its relevance to today’s society.”

“That’s something about capitalism, isn’t it?”

“It’s a theory about the effects of capitalism on workers and the economic development but yeah.”

“See, have a little faith in me, yeah?” Jungkook winked as he grabbed your phone to search  the topic right away.

“If you say so”, you said, still quite unconvinced.

“I’ll treat you at Eomma’s if you get a perfect score.”

Well, that’s more convincing although the real reason you don’t want to accept Jungkook’s help is because you’ve been a big burden just for tonight. It’s not like you could deny him if he’ll keep on insisting besides, you could feel your eyes getting heavier with how tired you are just from crying.

You pointed out clearly to Jungkook that he just needs to open the student portal and submit the essay before midnight. Jungkook was quick to dismiss you after you have relayed all the important information, instructing you to just lay down and rest.

Jungkook tried to absorb as much information about the concept behind Marxism and he has one and a half hours left to do some research and write about it that’s why he’s concentrating hard to put out all his best to this work but you got him all distracted upon hearing you chuckle.

“What?” he raised his head to look at you.

“You look so serious”

“Just close your eyes”, Jungkook covered your eyes with his hand, making you grab his wrist to pry it away from your now closed eyes.

Shaking his head, Jungkook went back to focus on his writing and next thing he knew, he had finished and submitted it just in time – five minutes before midnight to be exact.

Jungkook let out a yawn as he stretched his whole body by extending his arms upward and twisting his body from side to side. He inched the chair closer against the side of the bed so he could lay down his head atop of his arms to take a quick nap.

Looking at you, fast asleep and so peaceful, Jungkook chuckled to himself at how he could clearly make out your wide open mouth behind the oxygen mask thus prompting him to prod your chin up to close your mouth only for you to open them again.

His gaze remained on you and weirdly enough, a familiar sense of warmth overcame Jungkook, just like that day when he saw his mom and dad dancing in the living room therefore making him realize that maybe, suppressing these emotions won’t be of much help anymore.

--

Jungkook rushed towards the campus plaza after his classes to meet you there since you are both assigned to cover the Chuseok festivities in the campus for the school newspaper. He took out the laminated staff ID from his pocket, wearing it around his neck as he ran even faster once he heard the introduction speech of the hosts for today’s program booming through the speakers.

It took him another five minutes before he was able to get past through the barricades and stand right beside you at the side stage, considering the plaza was already packed when he got there. Jungkook had to squeeze his way through the crowd as he muttered a bunch of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ to those who he had bumped onto accidentally in the process.

“I saved you some” you said, giving him a pack of Pumpkin Songpyeon that was distributed for free by the brand that’s sponsoring the event.

Jungkook first got his camera from his bag before he took the pack of rice cake from you, “Thanks.”

A group of girls dressed in blue and red traditional hanboks filled the stage once the host introduced them. They went on to form a circle as they joined their hands together to perform a dance of Ganggangsullae. Raising his camera, he looked into the viewfinder as he set on to capture the performance that is until you nudged his shoulder

A blurred shot of the performance then displayed on his camera’s screen, causing him to tighten his lips as he looked over at you to question why you had to ruin his shot but you were busy shaking your pointer finger towards the performers on stage.

“Oh Jungkook, isn’t that Cho Hee?”, you said, “She’s gotten prettier.”

The girls in the circle are now crouched down as they languidly swing their arms side to side, surrounding the two girls dancing in the middle of the circle and sure enough, Jungkook now recognized one of the two girls wearing the red hanbok to be his ex-girlfriend.

Honestly, it has been a while since he last saw Cho Hee around and he could thank the massive campus for it. He’s actually glad to see her perform up there, knowing that his bitter feelings for her have naturally subdued which could only mean that he had actually moved on from her.

Junkook chose to ignore your remarks as he then proceeded to take a few shots until he got satisfied with it. The performance soon ended with all of the girls going down to the side of the stage where the both of you are standing and he pretended to review his shots, knowing how awkward it always gets when he gets to see his exes by chance.

“Cho Hee! you were great up there” you said as you approach Cho Hee to grab her arm.

Did you really have to talk to her?

“Ah thank you” Cho Hee smiled, bowing his head shyly at you and then she looked at him, “Hi.”

“Hi”, Jungkook raised his hand to do a little wave.

You could definitely feel the awkwardness radiating between the two when you looked over them as they tried to look anywhere else except at each other’s gaze.

“It’s so nice to see you again” you spoke up, making it easier for the two.

“Yeah, you too” Cho Hee said, “Anyway, i need to change backstage so i guess, i’ll see you around and by the way, Happy Chuseok!”

“Happy Chuseok”,  Jungkook said in unison with you.

“Well, that was awkward” you chuckled as you imitated Jungkook’s awkward ‘Hi’ greeting to Cho Hee.

Jungkook shook his head at you as he opened the pack of Songpyeon to snack on, “How are you and Seashell?” he asked, changing the topic.

“Stop calling him that” you pinched his arm but laugh nonetheless at how Jungkook stuck to calling Minho that obnoxious nickname ever since that incident, “We’re good. Actually, he’s going home with me tomorrow to meet my parents.”

Well, that’s surprising. You’ve never taken home any of your past boyfriends for the holidays or maybe it’s just the fact that they didn’t last long enough to celebrate a special holiday like this whereas it looks like Minho is in it for the long run but isn’t it too early to introduce him to your family?

“Oh you’re leaving early?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring the fact about Minho.

“Yeah, how about you?”

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

Jungkook can’t fully understand what you see in Minho and he doesn’t get it either why your relationship with him seems too fast but who is he to complain like that anyway?

You’re now happy and Jungkook doesn’t want to ruin that just because he had doubts about Minho although you clearly know already how much he dislikes your boyfriend. Jungkook just wants what’s best for you because that’s how a friend should think, is it? This is definitely not rooting from something else.

After the event, you went your separate ways with you saying that you still have to ready and pack up your belongings for tomorrow whilst Jungkook spent the rest of his day inside his dorm to just lay around and watch his roommate pack up like what everyone else is probably doing.

The highway traffic is always the worst before the eve of Chuseok as everyone is scampering to spend the start of the holiday in their respective hometowns while Jungkook took the smart idea of travelling to Busan on the eve itself since everyone’s home by then and the traffic is much lighter.

It was already past noon when Jungkook woke up the next day to see that his roommate already left. He snuggled closer to his pillow, closing his eyes to go back to sleep again since there’s really nothing important for him to do for the whole day so he might as well get that well deserved sleep for all of those all-nighters he went through this semester.

Jungkook groaned as he heard the blaring sound of the alarm on his phone go off when he’s certain that he had not set up an alarm. Nonetheless, he patted the space beside him to blindly search for the device, pressing the home button so he could peacefully go back to dreamland.

He was slowly drifting off to sleep again when his phone went off again and this time, he opened his eyes as he looked over the screen to notice that it was not an alarm but it’s a phone call from you.

“Jungkook”

“Hmm?” he drawled out a low hum as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Are you doing anything now?”

“I was sleeping but why?” he said with his eyes still closed, wondering why you're calling him.

“Can you meet me up at Soundcheck?”

Jungkook sat himself up as he looked over at his window to see that the sun was beginning to set, “Aren’t you back at home with Minho?”

“Hmm there’s a change of plan so hurry, i’m already here” you ended the call before he could even ask you more about it.

Well, it looks like sleeping in isn’t an option anymore. Jungkook yawned as he stood up lazily, ruffling his hair whilst he walked towards the bathroom to take a quick shower.

He could not be bothered to take out his comfy casual clothes that he had already packed in his duffle bag so he had just set on to wear whatever is left in his closet – a simple white t-shirt and a nice pair of ripped denim jeans plus a black windbreaker to protect him from the cold.

It’s quite strange to see how the street outside his complex looks almost empty or rather the whole area surrounding the university looks like a ghost town with the majority of the establishments closed prior to the holiday.

Soundcheck is approximately just a seven minute walk from his dorm that’s why it didn’t take too long for him to arrive there. As usual, Hyunseok greeted him, telling him that you and him might be the only customers he’ll be having tonight.

Jungkook headed straight to the room where you are to see you already belting out the lyrics to Since U Been Gone as soon as he opened the door. Not wasting any time further, Jungkook grabbed the other mic off the couch, joining you as he went on full crazy with you by bobbing your heads along to the beat.

It all went like that until Jungkook slumped back on the couch by the fourth song, all out of breath as he tried to take a rest for a while. On the other hand, you’re still energetic as ever and maybe, the two empty bottles of beer on the table is a very clear indication.

Wait.

That’s very unusual of you, considering you could only tolerate one bottle or less of alcohol and any amount more than that will make you a drunken mess in a matter of time – you’re a lightweight drinker after all.

Suddenly, Jungkook remembered the reason why he is here in the first place yet he still ought to know why you’re here, drinking way too much for your liking when you should be back at your hometown to introduce Minho to your family.

“I’ll have that” he snatched your supposedly third beer from your hand as he took a swig that had you complaining at him.

“There’s two more in the bucket!” you whined with your brows furrowed in annoyance.

Jungkook smiled knowing that he got you annoyed but it’s more of the fact that you look rather adorable than menacing. Of course, you wouldn’t take his delight too well as you rolled your eyes at him and proceeded to get another bottle in the bucket instead.

“Don’t be too greedy. Why don’t you save me some?” Jungkook took a hold of your arm that’s already extending towards the bucket of beer as he pulled you down to sit beside him into which you thankfully obliged.

You used Jungkook’s arm on the headrest to cushion your head against as you blankly stared at the ceiling and you felt your eyelids getting heavier once you felt the drowsiness setting in. Scooting closer, you moved your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Sing me a song.”

You must’ve thought that Jungkook didn’t hear you when he made no move to grab the remote and pick a song, considering you murmured the words to him but he caught you by surprise when he started to sing an acapella of Alaina Castillo’s Sad Girl much exactly to what you’re feeling right now.

Jungkook’s honey like voice reverberated around the room and you always love how soft and warm his voice is, adding up to the already comforting touches he’s giving you.

Jungkook held you tighter as he enveloped his arms around your shoulder, reeling you in whilst you nuzzled further into his neck as you absentmindedly took a whiff of his cologne – you can’t help it, he just smells so good all the time.

You're supposed to be back at home to introduce Minho to your entire family yet here you are, cuddling up on Jungkook's side. It’s oddly unfamiliar to have Jungkook be this close to you but it’s strangely good and you can’t tell if you want yourself to be familiarized with this kind of setting.

Opening your eyes, you observed Jungkook’s other hand on his lap, laying ever so close to yours and you may or may not have the urge to hold his hand out of nowhere but you were brought out of your thoughts before you could even give in when Jungkook finished the song.

Jungkook went on to hum a soulful tune that you can’t point out if it originated from a song or if he had just made it up but it’s not like you actually mind. You’re at least thankful for having Jungkook to be just here for you even though it was a spontaneous invite. Still, he made the effort to go here and you think that’s enough for your spirits to be lifted up, at least for a little while.

“I broke up with Minho.”

Jungkook glanced down at you, surprised that those words came out of your mouth though he had a hunch that something bad happened between you and Minho as soon as you called him but he didn’t fully expect for you to end things with him, not when you were so ecstatic to bring him home just yesterday.

“What happened?” he tried to lower down his head to take a look at you but he’s unable to, given that your hair has now made its way to your face, making him tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I just realized that he’s not the right person i’d want to introduce to my family.”

Well, that’s a pretty vague answer but before he could question you for more, Hyunseok appeared by the door.

“Hey guys…” Hyunseok’s voice faltered once he took in the view of you both cuddled up close but of course, that didn’t quite last long as you separate yourself from Jungkook, “Um i’m closing early tonight which i mean is in fifteen minutes – just a heads up though!”

“Okay” you both said at the same time and once Hyunseok is out of the room, you stand up all of a sudden to grab the mic and remote off the table.

“We better sing then” you said with a bright smile on your face like you just didn’t gloomily tell him how you had just gotten out of a relationship.

Jungkook assumed that maybe your break up is still too sensitive for you to talk about and maybe you weren’t meant to break out the news just yet. Of course, he’ll respect that until you’re ready to tell him although he’s dying to know what went wrong.

In a span of fifteen minutes, Jungkook was quite spent from trying to squeeze in a whole lot of songs to sing and he was also getting tipsy from gulping down the remaining bottles just so you could not drink any further though you’ve managed to sneakily sip just a bit from his.

“To Eomma’s!” you said once the doors of the elevator opened, darting immediately towards the direction of the restaurant that was disappointingly close already.

“Oh man” Jungkook scratched his head as he stood right next to you while you both stared at the closed signage by the door, “guess we just have to find another place.”

Jungkook slung his arm around your shoulder when he saw how you looked like you were walking on two left feet. You both wandered off the streets to look for any open restaurants you could walk into but it looks like you wouldn’t even find one no matter how hard you look everywhere.

“There’s nowhere for us to go” you pouted, planting your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Do you wanna head back?”

“Mmm no”, you shook your head, “I don’t want to be alone just yet.”

Glancing down, Jungkook examined your face to see if you’re doing okay but you're completely devoid of any emotions because you looked like you're spacing out instead.

Jungkook pinched your cheeks to tease you only for you to swat his hand away. In return, you turned your head sideways as you playfully bit on Jungkook’s arm, causing him to remove his arm off of you.

“Ow!”,  Jungkook chuckled, “Where do you want to go then?”

You looked up as you try to rack your brain of where you could possibly go at this hour but Jungkook’s adamant on being a little shit right now as he continues to bother you further by bumping his hip against yours to which of course, you retaliated back with an even stronger force and you both went on with it until you eventually lose your balance that had you landing on your bum.

“Ah look what happened”, you take a closer look at your palm, inspecting the new formed graze you got when you tried to lessen the impact of your fall by planting your hand down on the concrete.

“Sorry” Jungkook crouched down on your level, taking your hand to dust the dirt off your palm and to also pull you up with him, keeping you back on his side again by intertwining your arms since you’re prone to hurting yourself lately – emotionally and physically wise speaking.

“So, where now?” Jungkook asked as he rested his head sideways against yours.

“Ew, can’t you talk properly? Your saliva is sputtering on my face” you wiped your cheek as you disgustingly looked at Jungkook.

“That’s not me”, Jungkook widened his eyes at your accusation when he could also feel something wet on his face, more so when he looked up towards the night sky, “Oh? is it going to rain?”

As if on cue, the heavy rain poured, leaving you with only a little time to save yourselves as you both giggly made your way over the sidewalk where you took shelter under the canopy roof of a coffee shop.

Jungkook took in the familiar surroundings and he easily distinguished where the both of you are, “My dorm’s nearby, do you want to stay there for a while?”

“Sure” you said, letting Jungkook take your hand as he guided you, even pointing out the puddles you should avoid but you ended up stepping on some of them, making the both of you laugh.

Upon entering the lobby of Jungkook’s dorm, the security guard blatantly give you weird looks just because you’re both a giggling mess for no apparent reason at all although you stopped midway to apologetically bow your head to him before Jungkook dragged you towards the elevator in a hurry.

You observed your appearance once you had taken a good look of yourself against the mirrored elevator doors. Luckily, you’ve only gotten wet patches throughout your green sweatshirt and leggings but water began to pool around your white tennis shoes because of how drenched it is.

“Doesn’t this sound too dirty?” you laughed as you lightly stomp your feet to produce the wet sloppy sound that totally mimics a sound of two people making out or just having sex in general.

Jungkook smiled as he scratched his brows, finding it ridiculous that you’re starting to voice out your weird thoughts so indiscreetly, “You’re weird.”

Obviously, the weirder thing is that Jungkook has been staring at your joined hands through the whole ride up and it’s inexplicable how nice it is to feel your soft and warm ones against his own that he can’t bring himself to break away the contact, well as long as you allow him to.

Disappointingly, you managed to let go of his hand when you got inside his room so you could discard your wet shoes and socks before going inside the bathroom. Jungkook sat down on the chair, removing his windbreaker and untying his shoes as well.

“Your roommate has gone home already?” you asked as you went over to Jungkook’s bed to lay down.

Jungkook nodded his head as he opened the drawer to get a strip of band aid, alcohol, and a tissue to tend for your graze.

“Have you washed your hands?” Jungkook looked over you as you nodded your head at him. You hissed as soon as Jungkook pressed the tissue he soaked in alcohol onto your graze, finishing it with a band-aid.

“How cute that you have this”, you smiled as you ran your fingers along the green band-aid with teddy bear patterns on it.

“It was Cho Hee’s”

“Oh”, you didn’t mean to sound so disheartened but your tone just came out like that, “Do you still have her things?”

“No, i just didn’t bother to throw out little things like this”

You slowly nodded as you felt your chest tighten for reasons you still ought to know but you quickly dismissed the feeling, laying yourself down on Jungkook’s bed while Jungkook just sat on the side.

Sometimes, you’re curious to know how Jungkook still manages to have faith in love despite being taken for granted by his past lovers – which you hate to see happen to him – or just being unfortunate in general but the question eventually slips your mind before you could even ask him about it.

“Do you still believe in love, Jungkook?” your gaze fell on him and he locked his phone, looking up to meet your eyes with a warm smile.

“Yeah”, Jungkook said with no hesitation as the natural lover he is.

“Why?” you asked, wanting to know his point of view and maybe you could try to learn a thing or two from him.

Jungkook thought about it for a minute before redirecting the question to you instead, curious to know what you have to say, “Why don’t you tell me first? Do you believe in love, Y/N?”

“I guess so” you answered unsurely.

“You guess so?” Jungkook knitted his brows, tilting his head sideways.

“Well, don’t we love because we want to be loved?”

Jungkook shook his head, disagreeing from your statement, “Love should always start from yourself.”

After he had said that, you looked back up the ceiling again as if you’re deep in thought whilst Jungkook just focused on picking up the loose thread along his ripped jeans. Not too long, Jungkook laid back a bit in an opposite position from yours, resting his weight against his elbow on the mattress as he pinched the bridge of his nose to fight off the sleep that’s slowly starting to get him.

“Am i beautiful?” you asked out of nowhere.

Your eyes are still fixated towards the ceiling when he looks over you, unsure at where this question is coming from and why you had said it so suddenly.

“Why are you asking this?” Jungkook nervously chuckled while you just remained silent, prompting him to actually answer your question to not throw you off, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

Jungkook tried to gauge your reaction but you’re not even showing any emotion at all when you’re completely lost looking at the ceiling ever since, thinking that maybe you’re just spewing out nonsense.

Laying down completely, Jungkook felt his eyelids getting heavier by the second no matter how hard he tried to fight the sleepiness away although at the end, he eventually gave in as he fluttered his eyes shut.

“Do you love me?”

Jungkook was caught off guard, prompting him to open his eyes as he asked himself if he just happened to hear your voice in his dream but he’s not that deep into his sleep yet for that to occur.

“Did you say something?” Jungkook asked, trying to make sure he heard it right.

“Do you love me, Jungkook?” you repeated but this time you sat up as you set your eyes on him instead of the ceiling.

Mimicking you, Jungkook sat himself up, facing you completely as he rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck, “Of course.”

“I mean, not as friends but... Is it possible that you could love me more than that?” you clarified as you await Jungkook's answer with such an intense stare that had him shying away, making him avert his eyes elsewhere as he thought of what he should even reply to that.

You broke out an awkward laugh when you noticed that you’ve made him uncomfortable by putting him on the spot, “Sorry, i wasn’t thinking straight.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why he just had to grab your arm when you’re about to lay down again but it’s like his body acted for him and ignored the warning signals his mind had sent him. Courage striked through as he bore his eyes into you while he said the words he thought would’ve never come out of him.

“I do love you”, Jungkook muttered before he could even regret saying it.

Not even a second later, he felt his sudden act of courage dwindling down right when he saw you widening your eyes but he had never expected for you to follow through by cupping his face with one of your hands as you went on to move intimately closer, so close that he could make out the raw skin of your lips that possibly resulted off of your bad habit of picking its dry skin.

“Y/N…” he whispered as a fair warning yet it sounds more like a lure.

All this time, he was standing on the edge, asking himself if he should move forward to jump and take the risk although it’s the unknown final outcome he fears the most – will it be a safe landing? or will it be a tormented crash?

There’s no time for him to hold back anymore as he had already let himself fall completely and  Jungkook couldn’t care any less about his fickle thoughts when he averted his gaze away from your lips to your now closed eyes, making him do the same once he felt your lips collide with his.

Jungkook was just taking in how warm your lips felt but you pulled away as soon as you kissed him and he didn’t have to open his eyes to tell that you’ve not completely backed away from him when he could still feel your hot breath inches from his lips, leaving him wanting for more.

Wasting no time, Jungkook grabbed your shoulders as he tilted his head more to the side, opting to close the minimal space between you and that’s where things began to get pretty heated.

You deepened the kiss more as you placed your hand on Jungkook’s nape whilst the other rested on his chest. On the other hand, Jungkook eventually got his hands down to your waist and you responded by readjusting your position, straddling him with your legs placed on both sides of his lap.  

It was then a constant pull between you two as you let yourselves be sucked in a state of euphoria and this is when Jungkook knew that he’s mindlessly falling dangerously fast and hard, making it thrilling yet scary at the same time that he has no assurance to hold on to but it’s not like he’s putting his mind to think of it right now.

Jungkook moved his hand towards your hair as he loosened the piece of elastic around it, letting your hair flow down as he threaded his fingers through it until his hands eventually came across your nape, reeling you in closer as if he’s trying to get rid of any non-existent space, if that’s even possible.

You broke away for a second as you hastily discarded your sweatshirt off and Jungkook’s mind immediately short circuited, eyes travelling down from your face and down to your upper half body that’s barely covering you with the help of your neon pink sports bra that had him smiling in amusement.

“What?” you raised your brows in a teasing manner.

“Cute”

Jungkook’s smile waned off as he felt your lips leave wet trails of kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, causing him to close his eyes in pleasure whilst he bit on his lip to try to keep his moans at a minimum.

Having you like this is totally driving him insane and on edge but as much as he wants to go on further, this feels very unsettling considering you’re both intoxicated and Jungkook had to put a stop before this goes too far.

He gently pushed your shoulders, creating a space between you two, “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

Jungkook pretty much looks like he’s still trapped in a daze but you could tell that he’s just holding it off, confusing you out as to why until you had finally come to your senses – you asked him a stupid question and one thing led to another and you’ve come to not realize until now that you’re sitting on his lap, half naked you might add.

Embarrassed, you froze in place, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes as you crossed your arms across your chest and stomach, feeling conscious all of a sudden like you didn’t initiate the whole thing.

It didn’t go unnoticed for Jungkook to know how you suddenly felt uncomfortable so he searched for your sweatshirt around his room to give it to you but it ended up at the top of his closet and it’s not like he could stand to reach for it when you’re still sitting on his lap.

Jungkook was quick to tug the end of his white shirt, raising it over his head which gave you the chance to ogle at his surprisingly toned chest and abs, making you fluster as you weren’t even aware that his body is this fit and he’s just been hiding it under those oversized clothing of his.

“Raise your arms”, Jungkook demanded.

You blinked as you averted your eyes back on his face, just in time to catch him smirking at you. Nonetheless, you obey as you did what is told even though you’re completely clueless as to why he’s asking you to do so.

“Better?” he asked after he slipped his shirt over your head, smoothing some of your hair that he eventually messed up in the process of kissing you.

You nodded as you held his face with your right hand, smiling fondly when he leaned into your touch and you hate how this moment itself is making you emotional for reasons you don’t even want to remember right now.

“Do you really mean it?” you asked, pertaining to his unexpected confession, “that...you love me?”

Jungkook went on to caress your hair, only pausing as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your forehead before he lowered his head to match yours, deeply staring into your eyes as he took a deep breath to shake off his nerves. He was already falling, so what difference would it make it if he held back just to slow down a little bit?

“It has always been you”, Jungkook whispered in a low hum.

Closing your eyes, you heaved a content sigh, circling your legs around his body to pull him in closer as you lowered your head to rest them against his shoulder, arms snaking around his lower back ever so tightly.

Whereas, Jungkook had his arm around your shoulder whilst his other hand remained at the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and you’ve come to learn that he must love to do that, finding it so endearing of him.

This seems perfect and meaningful, it really is, but you can’t help but feel awfully unfair.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked once he felt you trembling but your crying had only gotten worse with that question, catching him off guard at the sudden change of events.

Jungkook tried to pry you away to take a better look at you but you won’t let him when you just hugged him tighter in return. Stunned, he questioned himself if he had said or done something wrong to upset you or was he just being too much that he got you overwhelmed?

You had finally broken away, breathing raggedly as you quickly wiped your tear stained cheeks, making Jungkook’s concern grow more.

“Hey” Jungkook whispered, sliding his thumb across your cheeks to wipe your tears but you subtly pushed his hand away as you removed yourself off his lap to sit instead near the headboard of his bed, creating a distance between you two.

Crossing your legs, you let your head hang low so your hair could completely block your face away from Jungkook, making it hard for him to read you but your body language speaks for itself and he thought that maybe, he had misread the whole situation.

“I’m so-”

“I caught Minho cheating on me” you broke out the news after you’ve taken a deep breath.

“What?” Jungkook gaped his mouth in surprise, eyes widening as he replayed the words over and over again into his head.

“I went to his dorm unannounced yesterday and when I opened the door i-” you buried your face into your hands as you broke out into a sob again.

“You don’t have to continue that”, Jungkook inched closer as he was about to give you a hug but he was reminded of how you had pushed him away seconds ago thus making him retract his hand away that’s been hovering above your shoulder for quite a while. Instead, he gave you some space as he could only helplessly watch you.

Anger bubbled up inside him and he was furious, knowing how much love and effort you have poured for your shit of an ex-boyfriend. Jungkook had finally claimed his doubts that he’s up to no good yet you always dismiss him because of how you truly love and believe in him.

Jungkook propped his fist against his temple, watching you worriedly but he’s just glad that you’ve managed to calm down a bit, “I think you need to take a rest now.”

“Okay” you nodded, standing up and walking over to get your still soaked shoes.

“You could stay... If you want” Jungkook stammered as he scratched his head.

You stare at your tennis shoes, deciding whether to wear it or put it back but you guess that the latter option is more reasonable just because it’s much more comfortable to wear these shoes dry anyway but that’s just an excuse your mind made up for you to believe.

“Sure”, you said, joining Jungkook to sit at the side of his bed.

“Okay”

“I’m just going to wash my face” you excused yourself before it gets too awkward.

While you were inside the bathroom, Jungkook got up towards his closet, getting himself another shirt and also taking off his pants, leaving him only in his boxer shorts. He headed back to his bed, getting under the covers as he laid on his back to look at the ceiling and think of this night that had him running his hand along his face.

He has come to know now that you’ve asked him those questions because you just need to be reassured and so you could also stray away from those insecurities that Minho has now planted on you.

Jungkook hates how he could be so naive at times but could you blame him for being unaware? For taking the chance you don’t even fully intend to give to begin with? But shouldn’t he be grateful at least that he was able to grasp that chance for a little while even though he knows it’s only a matter of make-believe? And by that, he can’t help but feel a pang on his chest.

Were you just using him to get over Minho?

There wasn’t enough time for him to ponder much over it when he heard the knob of the bathroom door twisting and he went to scoot to the other side, giving you enough space to lay on.

As you laid down, Jungkook tried his best to set aside his own feelings for your sake, reminding himself that you’re the one he should be worrying about more but that doesn’t erase the fact that you’re not just the only one hurting here.

“You good?” Jungkook asked as he felt the bed dipped.

“Yeah”, you whispered.

“I knew there’s something wrong with him ever since that emergency room incident”, Jungkook said, filling in the void.

“Actually, he lied about picking up his sister. He went over to see his ex that night” you said with such contempt in your voice.

“Oh wow”, he said, turning his head sideways to look at you, “Do you want me to beat the shit out of him so that he could actually end up staying in the emergency room this time?”

Jungkook tried to make the mood lighter and somehow, his statement earned a chuckle from you although the awkward silence made its way back once again.

“Jungkook, about-”

“We should sleep” Jungkook cut you off, choosing not to hear what you have to say, knowing that you’re probably going to bring up about the events before. Call him a coward but some things are better left unsaid and he would appreciate it if you spare him his pride, at least for tonight.

Even though it’s completely dark in his room, he could definitely feel your eyes on him and thought that maybe, his words came out way too harshly than he thought, “I mean, we should talk in the morning when our minds are clear”, Jungkook offered you a smile as he went on to return your stare.

“Yeah, i agree”, you momentarily looked at him, “Good night, Jungkook”

You turned on your side with your back facing him and he didn’t try to let the still visible tension between you two bother him so much, deciding to himself that it’s better to just deal with it tomorrow in the morning as what you’ve agreed on.

“Good night, Y/N”, Jungkook turned to face the wall, closing his eyes as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

As the morning came, Jungkook ended up lying on his stomach with the side of his face pressed on top of his hand. The sunlight shining directly on his eyes made him knit his brows in his sleep as he tossed and turned over to try to avoid it but the light won’t certainly leave him alone as stubborn as it is.

Groaning, he begrudgingly fluttered his eyes open, squinting them until his eyes could fully adjust to the bright light. Honestly, Jungkook thought that you’ll be the first thing he’ll see this morning but he was puzzled to see instead the white shirt he was wearing last night, rather you were wearing last night to be neatly folded next to him.

Jungkook propped himself up on his elbows as he scanned the room to see that your green sweatshirt is not atop of his closet anymore or how your soaked white tennis shoes are also missing and he started to doubt himself if he had just too much to drink to imagine all of it but that clearly wasn’t the case when he saw your hair tie is still around his wrist.

Sighing, Jungkook let himself fall back down on the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut only for him to open them again to stare at the ceiling that’s seemingly getting farther and farther away from him as he feels himself sinking down along with his heavy heart.

And just like that, you were gone.

--

Who would’ve known that winning first in Uno is this boring? More so when he’s stuck to watch the remaining eight players draw more and more cards, making the game seem endless. Bored as hell, Jungkook chose to just lay back on the couch, snacking on a bowl of peanuts as he eventually slowly lost focus, mind drifting particularly to that night.

What if he didn’t invite you over to his dorm? What if he didn’t confess? What if you never kissed him? What if the reason you left him in the morning is because your bus is scheduled to depart early? Or could you possibly intend to just leave him there with not a single word?

A month of no communication perfectly backs up his thoughts that you had indeed intended to leave him there and all these questions that still managed to plagued Jungkook’s mind are just a product of his wishful thinking.

Since then, he hasn’t heard from you and he didn’t try to bother reaching out too, unsure if you still consider him as a friend but you have obviously drawn the line ever since you left him that morning, making him guess that he’s now a stranger to you.

Although he can’t help but still cling to this little hope inside his mind and give you the benefit of the doubt that maybe, you haven’t totally cut your ties with him but that’s just proper bullshit.

It is what it is.

Sighing, Jungkook got his phone out of his pocket as he scrolled on it, not really in the mood to socialize anymore in Sunwoo’s Halloween Party. He would’ve gone home and left the party if he could but he carpooled on his way here with his friend, leaving him no choice but to stay and wait.

“I’ll just go outside”, Jungkook told his friend as he got up to make his way outside the backyard. Along the way, someone suddenly slung their arm around his shoulder just as he was about to open the sliding door.

“Jungkook!” said the man dressed in a Darth Vader costume.

“Oh Sunwoo”, Jungkook greeted him as soon as he removed his mask, greeting him in a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it”, Sunwoo smiled as he looked him up from head to toe, trying to make out his costume, “What are we wearing tonight?”

Jungkook let out a chuckle as he observed his costume, wondering if his silver chain mail shirt paired with an arm armor doesn’t give away that he’s clearly dressing up as a medieval knight or specifically, that he’s dressing up as Leonardo Dicaprio in the movie Romeo + Juliet, just like as you planned.

“Oh i’m dressing up as Leonardo Dicaprio’s Romeo character” he explained the costume you had forced him to buy and the only reason he’s wearing it is because it’ll be a waste of money if he’ll just let it gather dust in his closet.

“And where’s your Juliet?”

Maybe, it is a bad idea wearing this costume if he’s just going to be asked that question for the nth time tonight as he’s just making a complete fool out of himself or perhaps, pitiful more so.

“Well, i’m still looking for my Juliet” he smiled and hoped he’s not going to say that cringy reply anymore for tonight.

Sunwoo chuckled as he leaned closer to Jungkook, whispering, “In that case, you don’t have to look too hard.”

Jungkook knitted his brows at Sunwoo who just winked at him as he patted his shoulder before disappearing in the crowd to communicate more with the guests as the host he is. Nonetheless, he just shrugged it off as he got himself out in the backyard and took a breather away from the party he’s not really fond of at all.

Well, it’s rather peaceful and quiet out here except for the muffled music coming inside the house and he wished he would have come here sooner if he had only known that he’ll be having the backyard all to himself.

Jungkook sat himself down on the wooden garden swing and it enabled him to get a nice view of the perfect clear sky, surprising him even at the sight of the rare blue moon, prompting him to get his phone so he could capture the moon in all its glory.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Jungkook looked at the picture and he wished he could’ve brought his camera here to give the moon’s beauty justice but since that won’t do, he laid his head to the side to rest as he kept his gaze on the moon, not even noticing that he’s slowly being lulled to sleep by the swing.

“There you are”

Jungkook opened his eyes, surprised to see you staring down at him with a wide grin, chuckling even at how his eyes got bigger.

“I heard you’ve been looking for me”,  you said as you rounded up the swing, taking the space next to Jungkook.

Rubbing his eyes, Jungkook sniggered in embarrassment as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Did Sunwoo tell you that?”

“Well, he just said that there’s a medieval knight looking for his angel and I just knew it had to be you”, you chuckled.

“And how could you be so sure about that?” Jungkook raised his brow in a teasing manner.

“You’re Romeo and I’m Juliet. We planned this, remember?”, you said as your smile faltered after having said that, speaking more in a whisper, “I just didn’t know you’d still go through with it.”

Glancing at you, he gets to take in your costume for the very first time with your white dress that extends up to your knees, your little angel wings, and your hair tied up in a half ponytail with braids and wisps of hair falling at each side of your face.

He averted his eyes away the second you catched him looking, causing him to look back at the sky, pretending as if the blue moon were much more worthy of his attention although he’s  confused or possibly intrigued to say the least as to why you’re talking so casually to him when he could still clearly remember that you don’t want to do anything about him anymore.

“How have you been?” he asked, choosing to talk casually as well if that’s what you want.

“Nothing much, really”, you shook your head but later snapped your fingers as if remembering something, “Oh! I actually got a perfect score on that Marxism essay.”

“Really? Congrats!”

“So i guess you have to treat me at Eomma’s huh?”

Jungkook stroked his chin, looking up as if he’s trying to remember, “Did I say that?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t say that” you laughed as you shoved him but quickly regretted it when he almost fell off the swing, causing you to grab his arm as you put your other hand to cover your mouth, stifling your laugh.

“Do you have a grudge on me or something?” Jungkook put his finger in the middle of your forehead, chuckling at how you closed your eyes and scrunched your face as you waited for the impact of his flickering finger.

Somehow, laughter ensued between the two of you and this weird sense of familiarity crept over him, putting a smile on his face that is until you spoke up.

“I’ve missed you”

Jungkook turned to look at his fiddling fingers on his lap as he bit on his lip to hold back himself from returning those words he has been wanting to say to you ever since he saw your face but he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting again.

“I love you, Jungkook”

Jungkook felt his heart twinge, not in excitement but in pain as he let out a chuckle that sounded albeit scornful.

“You can’t just say that and expect everything to be okay”, Jungkook said in a venomous tone, making the big elephant in the room much more obvious now.

“I know and I’m sorry i should’ve stayed for us to talk but...” you stopped, hesitating to continue your sentence.

“But what?”

You rapidly blinked your eyes as you try not to get too emotional, unsure if you should even lay out this information but Jungkook deserves to know why you had left him that morning even though it’ll hurt him more.

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes before you could talk, “Minho called me that morning to meet up with me and i don’t know… i just ended up taking him back.”

Jungkook looked at you incredulously, finding it hard to believe at why you would take your cheating ex-boyfriend back and he felt himself getting furious that had him rolling his eyes at you.

“Minho cheated on you!” Jungkook raised his voice in anger as he twisted his body to face you.

“I know that I’m stupid, okay!? But he was willing to change and fix things up so i gave him a chance to redeem himself”

“Still, why would you take him back?”

You’re starting to get irritated with Jungkook’s questions that is outright making you look much more pathetic when you know that he doesn’t have to shove it in your face for you to acknowledge it but he’s pushing you to level with his anger and you’re afraid you can’t bite back your tongue anymore.

“It’s because I loved him and I knew that from the moment I found myself feeling guilty when I kissed you, wishing it was him instead of you”, you said only for you to widen your eyes as you cover your mouth in shock.

In that instant, Jungkook’s felt his anger subside into dejection, leaving him speechless and you knew that you had to act fast to explain to him that you’ve just said those words out of anger when you saw that he was about to hop off the swing.

“I didn’t mean to say that”, you held him back by grabbing his arm.

“Then you probably didn’t mean to say that you love me”, Jungkook hopped off as he walked in long strides to get back inside and be just out of here just like what he originally wanted.

“Jungkook, please just hear me out one last time” you pleaded desperately as you stood in front of him, blocking him from opening that sliding door.

“What more do you have to say?” Jungkook scorned.

“Me and Minho just lasted for a week before i called it quits-” you tried to deliver your point as fast as possible before he tries to get away one more time but Jungkook is just persistent to not listen at all although it’s not like you could blame him for being that way – you broke his heart after all.

“Aren’t you done breaking my heart? Is it too much to ask if i’d beg for you to spare me another one?”, Jungkook creased his brows in pain, “Look, I’ve had my heart broken too many times to get used to it but you – you’re like all of my past heartbreaks combined perhaps even worse.”

It was evident that you’re completely floored at his statement and Jungkook took the chance to sidestep you but you were quick to snap out of it as you stubbornly took a hold of his hand to drag him towards the middle of Sunwoo’s backyard.

“Jungkook, please just-”, you sighed as you let the tears you’ve been trying to hold back stream down your face, “Please just hear me out.”

Jungkook softened at the sight of you crying, wanting to wipe the tears off of your face but he reminded himself that he needed to stand his ground thus he crossed his arms as he waited for you to collect yourself and speak up.

“I broke up with Minho because I realized that he’s not going to change no matter how much i’ll ask him to but that’s not the only thing I fail to realize”, you wiped your tears as you shake off your nerves but the sound of your voice cracking gave you away, “I love you, Jungkook and i might’ve realized that a bit late but that doesn’t mean i love you any less.”

You cried even more as you try to push out all of the words you’ve kept inside onto the table, partially scared at how much you’re letting Jungkook know all of your raw emotions but you’re done letting your worries about love control you, not when it had caused a lot of damage not only to you but to Jungkook.

“I love you not because i owe to return it back but because you care so much for me and i can see it in the little things you do like when you rushed towards my building just because i was crying over a bad presentation i did or how you always check up on me whenever i tweet something cryptic even though most of the time I’m just frustrated over a game of Candy Crush”, you chuckled midway, remembering how you tweeted an ‘i give up’ and seconds later, Jungkook is up on your messages, asking how you are when in fact, you’re just ‘giving up’ because you can’t move on to the next level.

You sniffled as you smiled, standing closer to Jungkook to cup one side of his face onto your hand, looking at him intently with fondness written all over your eyes, “In all seriousness, I do love you because you taught and showed me what love is supposed to look like.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand off of his face as he also grabbed your other, enclosing them around with his hands, looking down at it as if he’s trying to contemplate first the whole thing which makes it more unnerving for you, wondering if you’ve come forward to lay your true feelings down perhaps a little bit too late.

“Y/N, I appreciate those words, I truly do but I hope you’re not just saying that because you see me as a rebound”, Jungkook laid out his concern as he let go of your hands.              

“You’re not a rebound, Jungkook” you widen your eyes, taking his hands back in yours as you try to convince him to believe your words.

With a somber smile, Jungkook squeezed your hands, “Don’t expect me to be the only one picking up the pieces, you should also be able to do it for yourself and not just me. I need you to be able to say that again when you’re completely whole.”

“What are you trying to say? Have I already lost you?” you said as your lips quivered.

Jungkook shook his head, thumb swiping over your cheeks to wipe your tears, “Even though you’ve broken my heart, you won’t lose me and that won’t ever happen because i’d still love you with all of my pieces.”

Overwhelmed, you headed straight towards Jungkook’s arms, causing him to step back with the sudden force as you hugged him tightly, relieved to hear that you weren’t too late after all.

“I’m so sorry Jungkook for everything, really and I swear that I'll build myself up first” you whispered as happy tears still managed to flow.

Jungkook kissed the top of your head, glad to hear you’re willing to do the best thing for yourself. He figured that diving into this relationship right away will just cause harm for the both of you, considering you still have a lot of things to figure out for yourself. You just have to take things slowly until the both of you eventually get there.

“I guess we'd have to invite eomma to our wedding, hm?” Jungkook suggested as he looked down on you.

“Is that a proposal?” you chuckled as you wiped your tear stained cheeks, creating a space between you although you’ve still kept your arms around his shoulders.

“How about a promise?” Jungkook raised his pinky finger.

“A promise then,” you giggled as you wrapped your pinky against his while you pulled him in by the shoulders, sealing the deal officially with a chaste kiss and a smile on both of your faces as you enveloped each other once again in an embrace.

You stayed like that for a little while, swaying each other side to side as you try to bask in each other’s warmth full of contentment, knowing full too well that all of those heartbreaks and pains you went through is meant to lead you to this exact moment and that concludes the story of how two lonely hearts who have lost their way in love have finally found each other.

--

A/N: Hi! It’s been a while since I last posted but here you go hehe although i have to say that i’ll be writing in a much slower pace from now on since i’ve become really busy irl and there’s just a lot going on, mentally speaking. I’ll still post stories from time to time though not as regularly as I used to so please look forward to my other ones in the future :)

P.S.: This is for you, Onigiri.

[anystalker707]

It’s not going to be alright

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 2 300 Genre: Angst, fluff, comfort TW: Anxiety attack, sort of Summary: (Y/n) brings Gerard to meet their parents. It doesn’t go as well as expected. Requested by @thegnotecannothurtusanymore​ a/n: I hope this is what you wanted and that you like it

"Do I look fine?" Gerard still sounds insecure as he stands in front of the mirror, adjusting his jacket lightly while also checking his hair and makeup, turning his head from side to side slowly a few times. He repeatedly runs his fingers through his hair, a sharp sigh escaping his nose.

"Of course, you always do," I say with a smile, standing behind him and observing him through the mirror. "C'mon, you don't need to be so nervous. I don't even care if they don't like or approve you, this is just because they're curious about you." Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I pull his hands away from himself in an attempt of helping Gerard with calming down. He's already perfect.

"But... Still, what if they try to separate us?" To say Gerard is worried is a euphemism.

I push Gerard to sit down on his bed and place my hands on his shoulders. "Listen, they're just my parents, not me. It doesn't matter whether they like you or not. They can't control me the whole time. We can, dunno, run away if we need to, don't worry about it!" I smile in an attempt of cheering him up and it seems to work.

Gerard noticeably relaxes under my touch. He wraps his arms around me and brings me closer, his head against my abdomen.

"It's going to be alright, Gee," I tell him softly as playing with his hair. He nods hesitantly.

We've been together for around a year now and, from hearing so much about me having a boyfriend and never seeing him, my parents decided that I should bring him home for dinner. Gerard almost freaked out because of it at first, something I completely don't judge him for. He was desperate about finding formal clothes for the dinner, but I told him to dress... like himself, just a kinda formal due to the occasion, but not completely. There would be no point for him to dress up in something he is uncomfortable with and to pretend to be someone he isn't just for my parents. If they're going to accept him, they must accept him the way he is and the way I love him.

Not to mention that we wouldn't be able to sustain a lie for too long. It's relatively easy hearing rumors about Gerard – after all, there aren't many other punk kids in the city. Also, if they hypothetically liked him like that and called him over for dinner more often, it would be an even harder thing to maintain. He can't hide all the scars or wounds all the time neither lie about some of them.

"What time is it? Maybe we should get going," Gerard says as he reaches for his phone and checks on it without letting me move away. "Yeah, we should," he answers himself and looks up at me, smiling a bit.

Soon, we are in my car and heading over to my place. I had come over to help him with getting ready and just to make sure he wouldn't mess up with anything because of getting too anxious.

"It's going to be alright," I repeat myself before we leave the car. Gerard does his best to smile in response while nodding. We leave the car and move to the front door, where I reassure him once again by giving his hand a light squeeze then I walk in. "Hey, we've arrived," I call to my parents as Gerard closes the door behind us.

"We're over here in the dining room, dear," my mother's voice comes from the said place.

The table is nicely set, the trays and pans filled with food we usually just eat on Sundays or certain occasions, what makes me smile at the same time I see it. Gerard seems just as pleased, an also appreciative air over his features as he looks at everything, cheeks growing red when his eyes meet mine.

When I look at my parents, however, their reaction isn't in any way pleasing. They look at Gerard like if they were expecting gold, but were just given a cheap copy instead or something completely different.

"Um," Gerard breaks the tense silence, seeming to not really have noticed my parents' reaction. "I'm Gerard, Gerard Way. It's nice to finally meet you." He smiles, looking at the two with nervous eyes. Well, now he's noticed it.

"Oh, so you're Gerard." The word sounds bitter coming from my father. He looks away, lips pursed and he doesn't make any effort in hiding his light displeasure. My mother takes the same path, a clearly forced smile decorating her lips as she slowly nods, drowning the room in awkwardness. I hate her for it. I mean, they don't even know Gerard yet.

A sigh escapes my lips as I just pull on Gerard's hand for him to sit down already as I do so myself, concluding my parents won't tell us to do it. Annoying. My parents do the same.

"Okay, so... Gerard," my mother speaks up first while everyone is serving themselves. He hums questioningly, smiling a bit. She continues. "Do you work? Do you do anything besides studying?"

"I actually don't need to work," Gerard replies, pushing his chair closer to the table after taking all the food he wanted. "I draw a lot in my free time and I've been trying to publish a comic."

Approval? No. The same displeasure shows itself on their faces, poorly hidden by fake smiles.

"Oh, that's... interesting," my mother breathes a chuckle, looking down at her food. Her chuckle sounds more of a 'look at how stupid he is' thing. Okay, okay, maybe I'm imagining things, right...? Let me avert my attention away from it.

"Gerard is excellent at drawing." I smile proudly and share a look with Gerard, who seems more relieved with my comment.

My mother makes an unconvinced face, but she doesn't have the opportunity to continue talking because my father speaks up next. "And you're off school soon, right? Have you already applied for any college?" He seems a bit more friendly than my mother, something I believe to be a brief impression due to how he's barely talked until now.

"Yeah, I've been accepted in the school of visual arts in NY," Gerard breathes with a proud air, already concluding how tiring it's all gonna be. In a social battery sense. The two will probably question Gerard until he walks out that door. It's going to be exhausting.

"Arts?" More reproval. My father raises his eyebrows amused after Gerard nods and my mother holds back a sigh, moving to sip on her glass of soda like if she can't handle it all. "That's peculiar, certainly. Something really difficult to get a future in, isn't it?" He says in clear mocking and looks at my mother. Look at this fool; I can practically hear them thinking. I don't know if it makes me angry or sad or both. Honestly, I already predicted things weren't going to turn out well, but this is just terrible.

"Like if Gerard would ever fail in anything while he's got so many talents like that," I roll my eyes. My comment goes ignored apart from how Gerard blushes and grins.

"Oh, but I've got a band in case anything goes wrong!" Gerard shrugs in a sudden wave of confidence.

"His band is awesome," I add. Ignored. Hah.

"A band!" A laughter comes from my father and my mother follows suit. They spend a moment laughing, but reality seems to hit them again before the fact Gerard and I remained in silent, both of us observing them in disbelief.

My mother shakes her head in dismissal as covering her mouth for a moment – at least making an effort, what seemed to be too hard to my father. "Erm, that's wonderful! Wonderful," she says.

A sigh escaped my lips at the thought I'll probably pull Gerard out of here myself soon if things continue like that.

Thankfully, some minutes into the dinner, we've got some peace, but all the evil comments and mocking continue right after. Sometimes my parents do apologize. Not genuinely, tho. For real, I feel like it would've been easier if they just got angry and kicked us out as soon as seeing Gerard or something instead of opting for psychological torture. I'm feeling attacked myself.

The dinner being over almost feels like a miracle to me – I quickly stand up from my chair and pull Gerard along with me.

"So, I'll be heading to Gerard's tonight. I'm spending the night at his place, like I promised," I say as giving his hand a light squeeze, running my thumb over his knuckles softly.

He seems really uncomfortable.

"Oh, you are?" My mother sighs, shaking her head to herself. "Okay then, just remember to come home. Love you, dear, see you," she says to me before she takes a good look at Gerard, then walks away to the kitchen with the dirty dishes in hands, not even bothering to tell him a goodbye or anything.

"Goodbye..." I mutter, starting to walk.

"G-Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. (l/n)! Thanks for the food and for receiving me," Gerard calls, the nervousness starting to show when we're about to leave the house. If I were him, I wouldn't even have said anything.

Feeling the cold night air embracing me is extremely relieving. Being away from the two is relieving. I'm still revolted about everything that has happened; it wasn't kind at all. I look at Gerard, worried. "Are you alright, love?"

"Yeah, sugar, don't worry," he reassures me. His words sound empty. I don't question.

Gerard tries to keep the tough posture until when we arrive to his place and we're already in comfortable clothes, lazing around on his bed. He's clearly not fine – you can notice it through how he acts, his glassy eyes, difficulty on keeping his focus... We will talk about it whenever he is ready.

At some point, my phone starts ringing. My mother. I sigh.

"I'll be right back, Gee, my mom's calling." I press a kiss to his cheek then leave the room and the house, heading to the back porch. It will be uncomfortable having anyone else listening to this while Mikey and Donna are also so nice to me.

"(Y/n)," the angry tone comes from the other end of the line as soon as I answer the call. "That boy is terrible. I'm sure you've noticed how we didn't enjoy him any bit. He's stupid, he's just got no future. You deserve something better, my love," her voice softens. "We just let you go over to his place because it would be impolite to not to after everything."

Ah, there it is. The hypocrisy.

"Well, and I'm sure you've noticed that I don't care about what you two think. You liked Gerard and everything I told you about him until you saw him. That's stupid. You guys didn't even allow yourselves to get to know him properly and already got like that." No, I've got no patience to deal with this. I groan to myself as leaning against the railing and observing what I can see of the back garden.

"We know that kind of people, okay? Trust us, you're not gonna-"

I hang up. And set my phone in the do not disturb mode. I'm not listening to bullshit about Gerard while he's so sweet and loving and...

Putting my phone away, I rub my face and try to get rid of the stress before walking back in.

Gerard is startled by me walking into the bedroom suddenly, eyes widening once they land on me while I close the door. It looks like he's been crying; eyes puffy and red, makeup smudged. "(Y/n)," he cries, reaching his arms towards me as I approach, "don't leave me, oh God, I love you so much. Without you I can't-" He interrupts himself with a sob, starting to cry again.

"I'm not going to leave you!" I sit beside him, pulling Gerard for a hug. I wipe his tears away before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I would never, I've told you! Their opinion about you isn't relevant to me! They don't know you like I do! I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that."

"Sorry," he sobs against my neck, arms wrapped tightly around me like if I would disappear if he let go. "I wish I was different, damn, I'm sorry."

It's always terrible when Gerard's anxiety attacks, but things seem to be going way worse now and I curse my parents for it. They had literally no reasons to have acted the way they did. Even if they dislike Gerard, everyone must be respected. Seeing Gerard like this hurts.

"You have nothing to apologize for," I rub soft circles into his back as continuing to hold him close, doing it for a few moments in an attempt of getting him to calm down. "Gee, Gerard, listen to me," I say once he's calmed down a bit and take a gentle hold of his face, making him look at me. "All that matters is us and nothing more. I don't care if my parents don't approve of our relationship or if the world does, I just care about us, if we are fine. And, of course, if you are fine. I hated that you needed to go through all of this, I'm so sorry." I press a kiss to his cheek, starting to run my fingers through his hair.

"Don't apologize, it wasn't your fault," Gerard says softly. He is silent for a moment before the tears start again and he buries his face in the crook of my neck again, clutching onto me tightly.

"Let it all out, Gee, it'll help you." I comfort him, pressing kisses to his neck and going back to rubbing his back. "I love you, okay? And that's all that matters."

[ladyeliot]

Before we go (Part Four)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your company has sent you to Boston to close a deal on the same day you have the most important date of your life at night in New York. Things get complicated, you can’t return to New York and you have to spend the night in Boston with a complete stranger.

Warning: Fluff, Angst.

Word count: 4669

Notes: The story has an open ending.  Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Do you believe that destiny is written? Many people would say that the only destiny that is written, and therefore believe in it, is death. Few people manage to be masters of their destiny, but others think that we are the ones who make destiny. Be that as it may, that night you were discovering that there was a very thin gap between chance and destiny. Maybe you should look for your own destiny, but even so you realised that it never comes alone, it is always accompanied.

That is when we least expect it, when life decides to take you over, placing a challenge in front of your eyes, in which you have to play a big role, to show your courage. At that very moment it makes no sense to assume that we are not ready, even if we really are not, because destiny will not wait for you to be ready. Life does not stop for you, you must decide at that very moment if you decide to move forward or give up.

Chris stopped in the middle of the pavement, tilting his head in the direction of a luminous arrow that offered you the entrance to the basement of a Victorian building. We focused our eyes on the letters and you discovered that it said "destination consultant". You frowned and looked back at Chris and shook your head comically, these things were not for you.

"Come on!" he exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the place. "What worse things can happen to us in the future?"

"What?" you said trying to refuse to go in. "Please don't tell me you're serious about this sort of thing?"

"Oh, come on," he complained, begging you with his eyes.

" It' s a fraud," you said with a chuckle. "Besides, it' s going to try to get money out of us that we don't have."

"Please..." Chris approached you bending down to bring his gaze to the same height as yours.

You exhaled deeply, you weren't sure if you really trusted these sorts of things, at least you showed them a clear respect, still you didn't quite want to know what your fate was, nor if the future held positive or negative things for you, you'd rather find out on your own.

"It's three in the morning," you said, arching your eyebrows. "If we wake up the consultant, I don't think he's going to say nice things, if he really sees them..."

"Don't worry, he's a destiny consultant, destiny doesn't rest," he said with a small laugh inviting you to come downstairs with him. " Let's go."

Finally you let Chris guide you down the narrow staircase into the darkness to a wooden door. Maybe he was right, destiny wasn't sleeping, because a layer of light was coming out of the cracks. Your companion rang the doorbell a couple of times, and after two minutes an elderly man in a blue night gown appeared before you.

"Oh, hello!" he exclaimed, baring his teeth in a smile. "Are you here to meet your future, or am I late again with the traffic fines?"

You complemented your frown with a smile at his words.

"We don't have much money," you quickly reported before you were caught in a future predicament.

"Never mind," the man stepped aside so you could pass, "I have nothing better to do tonight."

You turned your gaze to Chris who offered you with his hand to enter the place first. Inside you discovered that it was more like an office of destiny, decorated as if it were an ordinary house, cosy armchairs, decorative elements of the sixties and a warm aroma of coffee enveloped the whole room. He offered you to take a seat in two armchairs clearly set up for his visitors and you agreed.

"All right," he positioned himself in front of you and folded his hands. "Who goes first?"

Again, you turned your face to the right to find Chris shrugging, offering you the first place.

"No... You're not going to draw tarot cards, or read us our hand lines or...?" you asked a little quizzical that he would only sit and watch you.

"Oh dear, that's all in the past," he said with a little chuckle. "I think we are in confidence not to have to bring out all that paraphernalia, obviously in an inanimate object I am not going to see what your destiny will be, if what really matters to me is in front of my eyes, you."

Chris nodded, as if he understood everything he was saying.

"All right, who goes first?" he insisted again, high-fiving their hands.

"Her," exclaimed Chris pointing at you.

"Start with him," you said quickly pointing at Chris, crossing your words.

"Okay," he looked at you simultaneously. "I think our young actor is a lot less skeptical, so... what are we going to do with you young lady?"

You uncrossed your legs, squirming a little uncomfortably as you found his eyes trying to discover something in yours. You felt like you were being emotionally undressed even though you were trying your best to counteract it.

"I see," he began to say calmly. "You are quite confused. You may be at a crossroads in your life, you believe what you should do, you know what the path is but you also know that's the easiest path and so you're heading down it," he paused, all his words making you think and squint. "But you also think that you are trapped, that there is no solution to what has happened to you."

You took a parsimonious breath, it was evident that all those words could be a sign of a vagueness that he possibly said to everyone and that it was your brain that was doing the function that was completing them and resembling them with the events that were present in your life.

"But you know you have so many other options, maybe you're afraid to consider them," he continued, which made you wonder what those options were.

"Okay," you nodded a little confused. "And what are the other options?"

"Well, one of them is universal, to walk away."

"Walk away?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "From what?"

"Oh, that I don't know," he explained, dropping his hands. "That's what you should know. Like I said, it's a universal choice, we can all walk away, sometimes it's impossible to avoid, but sometimes it's the best we can do."

Your gaze was lost in the thoughts that those words provoked in you, should you let Michael walk out of your life for good? would it be the best thing to walk away from him?

"Maybe you could have a future together," he said pointing at Chris smiling, "I know, you're not a couple, but that doesn't take away from the fact that your paths have crossed for something in particular."

You both looked at each other for a millisecond until you turned back to your destiny reader.

"Chris is a great guy, but I don't think our paths will stay together for long." You said with a slightly forced smile.

"Well, I'm just introducing you to the various options you can have. This is one of them." He leaned back in his chair again. "Besides, people meet by the coincidences of life, who told you that those coincidences can't become your destiny."

"So, does that mean I can't control my destiny?" you asked emphasising the curiosity that had arisen in you.

"Not at all, it is your choices that control your own destiny. Coincidences only appear at one time in your life, in one place, you are the one who decides what to do with those coincidences." He paused slightly. "You decide if you want to make those coincidences your destiny, to share the rest of your life with those coincidences."

"That's very easy to say," you smiled, looking to your right, meeting Chris's smile.

For the next few minutes you were enveloped in an aura that extrapolated you from everything going on around you, the voices of your two companions could be heard in the background, but you just let your thoughts invade your senses, causing nothing around you to matter.

"[...] that's what I remember best about the night I met her," the consultant said with a tender melancholy in his voice, "I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life, with her hair tied back in a blue ribbon. From then on I was never separated from her again."

"Surely you were a perfect couple," Chris added.

"The truth is, Chris, nothing is perfect," she explained. "Life is conflict, that's what makes it what it is, we can only decide who we want to face it with."

From the moment your ears picked up those last words you couldn't shake them, you really couldn't stop thinking about everything you had heard. You set off again into the darkness of the Boston night, for the tenth time in the night you were setting off again on an aimless journey. Silence enveloped the surroundings and you too, you realised that you were retracing the steps you had taken during the night, arriving once again at that park by the banks of the Charles River. The saxophonist was no longer in his place and that made you feel a little lonelier inside.

The pain in your feet was taking over, making your steps shorter and slower, but at that moment Chris stopped by a bench, making you take the hint and take a seat. A small, comforting pleasure washed over you.

"Well, do you think it's time to explain to me everything that's going on in there," he sat down next to you and pointed to your forehead, "or maybe I have to travel with you all the way to New York to find out?"

There was no doubt that his words were going to bring a shy smile of melancholy to your face, for you were totally homesick since you had set foot on the street again. But you assumed it was time to share your experiences, dispelling any doubts Chris might have in his mind.

"His name is Michael," you began and let out a loud sigh as you looked straight ahead, gazing at the river. "We met when he moved to New York for work, he works as a lawyer for a law firm that has several offices in the United States," you explained, as Chris looked on curiously without taking his eyes off you. "We were introduced to some friends we have in common," you shrugged. "At first there wasn't much of a connection, but then three months later we hit it off again, that's how we started dating, one thing led to another, you know," you nodded to yourself and took a breath. "I guess during that time we ended up falling in love, a year and a half later we moved in together, and so a year later he asked me to marry him," you showed him the wedding ring mark he had previously uncovered for you. "We were engaged for two years, I guess we just couldn't find the right time to go through with the wedding. Maybe it was during that period that things went downhill. I was promoted to head of External Relations, it was something I had fought for for a long time, but it meant that what little free time I had was all devoted to my work," you paused, waiting for the lump in your throat to disappear. "A year later I found out that Michael had been seeing someone else who, unlike me, was able to devote more time to him," you looked up at Chris with a saddened smile, matching his expression. "When I found out it was the day of our anniversary, I had told him that as usual I would have to work late, so I couldn't go to dinner at our favourite brasserie, the place where we had our first date, but it wasn't really true, I just wanted to get home early, prepare dinner and surprise him when he came home from work," you smiled gloomily. "So that day I left the office much earlier than expected, took the car, went to the supermarket and headed towards our flat. Michael wasn't supposed to come until after 8pm, but when I opened the door the lights were on and there were noises from upstairs, so I hid everything I'd bought like an idiot so he wouldn't see it and went to our bedroom. He was there, with her, I recognised her, she was an old work colleague," you half-open your lips as you remember the image, trying not to let the tears come to your eyes. "That brought our five-year relationship to an end," you shrugged. "Then he took a new job in Los Angeles. That was almost two years ago.

"But now he's back in New York," Chris added in a very cautious tone.

"A month ago we were in touch again, he was the one who contacted me, we talked and he told me that he regretted everything that had happened," you explained calmly. "That he wanted to see me, that he was going to New York for work and that he was willing to fix all the mistakes he had made. I wasn't as receptive as he was, obviously my feelings hadn't gone away, but I told him that I needed to think about it, that I would get back to him when I was sure," you looked down at the floor, playing with your fingers nervously. "He arrived last Monday, but it wasn't until Friday that I contacted him, I told him I was willing to see him and talk, but I don't know why I thought it would be best to talk to him the day before he left. Maybe because then I would know that no matter how the conversation went, there would be no turning back, and I wouldn't have to see him again," you closed your eyes and shook your head. "But it doesn't matter now, because in four hours his plane leaves for Los Angeles. I've ruined everything.

Chris hadn't looked away from you at any point, his expressions varying as your story evolved and he discovered what had really happened. On the contrary, you had chosen not to maintain eye contact, you didn't know that expressing it out loud would be so painful, there were too many feelings hidden in your words, but on the other hand it was comforting to get rid of them, rewarding and even liberating.

"I don't think you spoiled anything," he said calmly, trying to connect your gazes.

"Yes," you whispered, playing with your fingers nervously. "You didn't hear the tone in his voice when I called him on the phone, he was so disappointed to hear I wasn't going to New York. There's no going back. And sometimes I think I take a lot of the blame for everything."

"Listen..." Chris grabbed your hands, stopping them. "The only one to blame for what he's done is him."

"I guess I know that, and I hate him because he won't let me be able to trust him again," you added definitely finding a connection with his blue eyes.

"You hate him, but you also love him," he inquired with a pleasant tone. "But people don't change."

"I'd give anything to start from scratch," you took a breath shaking your head. "But you're right, people don't change."

"Look at me. Over time I've come to understand that we love who we love. And that sucks." he added tilting his head and generating a slight smile on your face. "But I think after hearing all the words our friend has said to you, I've realised that we have a choice, that we have paths to create our own destiny, and that in time I know that both you and I will take the right path."

The time seemed to disperse around you, in the background you had one of the most idyllic landscapes of the city of Boston, the riverbed showed you the other side of the city on the other side. For once in the night you felt the tranquillity invade your body, it was comforting to sit there, relieving fatigue in every way, both physical and mental, listening to your own breathing without any other sound around you.

"How can one of the worst nights of my life also be one of the best?" your words ran with the wind.

You discovered that it was the instant your gazes met again that you realised everything that was right in front of your eyes. Like a veil that had been covering your gaze all night long, it disappeared the moment you focused your attention on Chris. You found a feeling that you hadn't had inside your body for a long time, something strange that alerted you to the closeness of your faces and to the fact that the proximity between the two of you was shortening.

Chris offered you all the time and space you needed to process the information that the environment was offering you, to decide for yourself what the next step was going to be and whether you wanted to take it or let it slip away. This continued to be a consequence of the chance that had presented itself to you tonight, he, and only you, could make the decision to move on or to get rid of it by taking another path. The temporary sensation was feeling eternal, but, despite the mess of thoughts you were having, it was undeniable that what you wanted at that moment was to feel him closer to you. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the pull that drew you closer to him, the touch of noses seeming to ease the need until your lips met. Soft, cool and wet, they brushed on several occasions until your brain sent a signal to your reason that perhaps you weren't in the best position to complicate things further.

You lightly rested a hand on his chest, then broke the connection with his lips.

"I'm sorry," you whispered in front of his face, "I don't think this..."

"I'm sorry," he nodded, leaning his forehead against yours, "okay, I'm sorry."

"I just don't want to complicate things any further," you muttered.

"You didn't," that smile that had been with you all night reappeared.

The only thing you remember after that moment is how tiredness invaded your body, the comfort and warmth provided by Chris's body right next to you on that bench had caused your eyelids to subtly droop until sleep enveloped you. Time became unpredictable, the importance of things was lost, you were just two completely exhausted people letting everything around you cradle you.

Maybe it was the sweet melody coming from the branches of the trees or the rays of the sun breaking through your eyelashes, but something made you realise again where you were and your unconscious started up again. You felt a footstep wrap around your waist, the moon was leaving to give way again to the sun rising in the east. The quiet was still all around you, but on your watch you could see that it was past six o'clock in the morning. At any other time, despair would have seized you, but without knowing why, your insides still breathed the peace that had caused you to fall asleep the night before.

You lifted your face slightly, only to find the harmony that filled Chris's features, who was still peacefully asleep. It was impossible to keep a tender smile from your face as you gazed at him, but your movements caused his body to gradually awaken as well, and just as you had done a few minutes ago, his eyelids gave way to the blue of his eyes.

"Good morning," you whispered, allowing him time to discover where he was.

" Morning," he repeated, stretching his limbs. "What time is it?"

"Twenty to seven, we've been asleep for almost three hours," you informed him.

Chris straightened up on the bench and looked at you with a nod, in case you weren't quite sure, you saw that the boy was falling asleep with a smile on his face. He got up from the bench and took a hand from inside his jacket pocket, palm up, and held it out to you. You knew your way, for once, you knew that the ticket inside your coat was waiting to be used, that you had to make your way to the South Boston station and after four hours you would be in New York.

With a little hesitation in your movements you definitely took his hand and you both started on a new journey, perhaps your last. There were no words in between, just ten intertwined fingers heading towards the end of a road that began the night before. In the daylight everything seemed different, changed, as if you had never been there before, your eyes saw the surroundings differently, but your body felt it too.

You both looked straight ahead, each of you lost in your ramblings, in your thoughts, avoiding spoiling everything you had created and lived. The station was not far from where you were, only twenty minutes later you were there. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since you both met for the first time inside the station, but it had only been nine hours, nine hours that you had spent together and so many things had happened that were impossible to forget.

You paused for a moment outside, knowing that the moment of farewell was approaching and it was the one thing you didn't know how to deal with at the moment. The same thing was on Chris's mind, who finally opened the door so that you could go inside. You noticed that the man who had briefed you last night was at his desk and gave you a little wave with his face.

"The next train to New York leaves in fifteen minutes," he said, pointing to the illuminated board announcing the next departures.

You looked up at him with a nod, hardly caring if it left in fifteen minutes or if you had to wait hours to catch it, though you actually preferred the latter. Chris guided you to a slightly more secluded corner, avoiding being the centre of attention among the people arriving at the station. The moment you had both been avoiding appeared before you, you stood facing each other, the sadness seemed to have created a halo around you, represented through your gazes and smiles. Still neither of you broke the silence, you didn't know what was the right thing to say or how you could express your feelings, but as if by magic that contraption made it easy.

Chris held out his hand to a pay phone a few metres away, how was it possible that it had saved your night on several occasions and now it saved your goodbyes?

"Chris? hey, it's me again," you covered your face with your hands to hide your laughter. "Listen I need your attention, remember I told you when you got to Boston some crazy stuff was going to happen?  Great. Listen, when you get to the South Station you will meet someone, a girl," he stood silently looking at you. "You'll think she's lost and so you'll go up to her and talk to her.At first she will reject you, she will be cold and a little stubborn," a small laugh came from inside you, "but after a few minutes you will realise that she needs you, and as time goes by you will discover that you need her too," you parted your lips, you couldn't take your eyes off hers.  "You'll think you met her at the South Station for some reason.At first she will reject you, she will be cold and a little stubborn," a small laugh came from inside you, "but after a few minutes you will realise that she needs you, and as time goes by you will discover that you need her too," you parted your lips, you couldn't take your eyes off hers.  "You'll think you met her at the south station for some reason. So stay by her side, don't separate from her. I would if I could."

He was saying so much with those words that you could barely take in half of them at the time. Your gaze was clouded, you didn't know if it was from exhaustion or from what your ears were hearing, but it was easy to tell when you saw that Chris's blue eyes were on point.

"And... and when it comes time to say goodbye," he continued, looking away from you for a second, "you'll want to say so many things that you won't know how to say them, but what you learned that night is that it's best not to overcomplicate things, so please don't mess it up." Chris became somewhat serious and nodded. "Just look her in the eye, and... thank her for giving you the best night of your life."

Again silence came into your eyes, Chris looked a little stiff holding the phone in his hands, but just as he was about to hang it up something came into your mind.

"Oh wait!" you approached him and grabbed the phone to bring it up to your ear. "Chris? It's Y/N, please don't remember to activate your bank card. Okay."

Chris smiled, letting the air slowly leave his lungs, seeking relaxation. You slowly hung the phone back in its place, returning to your original position but having closed the distance to him. His smile disappeared just as he wiped away a small tear that fell on your right cheek, missing only a second for him to bring his lips to yours, closing the little distance you had. Just like the night before, you accepted the gesture with open arms, discovering the pleasurable pleasure of feeling him close to you. It was warm, tender, slow and pleasant, just as he had shown you during those hours what he was like.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping his forehead to yours. "If you could just..."

"What?" you muttered still with your eyes closed.

The next thing you did conditioned you for your whole life, coincidences happen just as that wise man had told you a few hours ago, but it is only you who makes the decisions that will change your destiny. Two possibilities presented themselves in front of you, but you only had one option, take the train that was leaving in five minutes or stay there. You didn't know which was the right one, you didn't know what the end of each path would bring, you only knew what you wanted to do at that moment, you weren't afraid to do it, so for once in your life you thought about yourself, about what you wanted to do and you believed that maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but it was what you needed.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[pi-cat000]

Magnus Archives/BNHA (1)

Fandoms: Crossover between The Magnus Archives & My Hero Academia 

Characters: Jon and Martin (friendship)

Summary:  Jon and Martin are reincarnated  into the BNHA universe after failing to prevent the apocalypse. They compare their quirks to their respective Entities. 

Will probably post on ao3 at some point. 

(Part 2 here)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“They registered my quirk as Veracity you know.”

 “Veracity?”

 “Yes. Quite abstract. I suppose they thought they were being poetic…” Jon mutters, bitterness colouring his tone. He stares out at the playground, watching his age mates run about in a boundless display of youthful energy and innocent excitement.

 From his place on the bench beside him, Martin hums, halfway between sympathetic and thoughtful, “I think it’s a nice name. It softens the edges a bit.”

 “I should have expected it…to have a quirk like this… after we saw what your one did,” he curls his small child hand into a fist, “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

 Quirks. The strange and wondrous abilities gifted to people of their new reality. Jon had hoped, when he hadn’t presented with one at the usual age of four, that he would remain quirkless. He had suffered enough with having terrifying abilities in his previous life. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get his wish.

 Martin reaches out, hesitates, then pats him lightly on the knee, “You’re taking it a lot better than me. At least you didn’t breakdown and spend the night in hospital.”

 “I suppose,” he frowns, glancing sideward, “Though our situations are hardly comparable.”

 Martin’s quirk put any person he touched with both hands into a fog-filed, alternate dimension/temporal pocket. Its similarity to The Lonely had been poorly received by both of them. Especially, considering Jon had been the one to suffer through its first accidental activation. While he had found himself lost and alone in a grey, fog filed, void, a hysterical Martin had been rushed to hospital. There the doctors had had to wait for him to calm down enough that a Quirk specialist could walk him through the process of reversing the effect.

 “You thought you had trapped me for good. Of course, you would take that poorly.”

 The quirk specialist had banally called it ‘Cloud Prison’ like it wasn’t the residue of a primordial fear god leaking into their new reality. Not even six years of a second life could dull the pain and terror that had been their final moments before the apocalypse. To suddenly have such a stark reminder shoved in their faces had shaken them both.

 “I would never have done that to you on purpose,” Martin murmurs, probably drawing the same connection as Jon, “It just happened so suddenly…”

 “Yes, well, I am now painfully aware of how volatile and uncontrollable a quirk can be.”

 Martin winces, “Does it activate every time you ask a question? You can’t control it at all?”

 “It seems to be automatic. If I ask anyone a question they must answer truthfully. There is also a lovely mental component,” He lets his resentment grow, “so I can feel their unease when they answer. I’ll know if the person is trying to fight or when they’re trying to leave out an important detail. It is very similar to…before.”

 He grits his teeth. There were no Entities in this word, aside for the residue that lived in their memories but sometimes that could be just as bad. The last thing his recovering mind needed was a reminder of how he had slowly lost his humanity.

 “I also feel them. The people I trap alone in the fog.” Martin adds and shivers, “It’s horrible.”

 “Yes. It is.”

 They both sit in silence as the light began to fade. 

 Their time at the park is almost done. Soon they would have to return to the foster home they both shared. Jon, being a mentally unstable adult trapped in the body of a child, had been too much for a young single mum who had never wanted children. He barely remembers her leaving him at a local shopping centre being hardly old enough to walk at the time. Martin’s parents had died in a villain attack, because, alongside fantastical powers, this reality was full of brightly coloured Heroes and Villains like they had woken up inside a comic book. Six years in and it still felt too surreal to be real.

 “Well, we don’t have to use our quirks. It’ll just never touch anyone with both hands, and I’ll ask all your questions for you so you won’t have to worry either.”

 Jon scoffs, “You can get away with wearing gloves. No need for anything dramatic.”

 “You know what I mean Jon.”

 “Reo,” he interrupts, “please remember to call me Reo. We already attact more attention than is probably good for us.”

 They weren’t Martin Blackwood and Jonathan Sims anymore. That life was behind them. Here, they were Jiro Shirakumo and Reo Tsukauchi and the sooner they acclimatised to using their new names the better. Maybe, one day, he would even start feeling like ‘Reo’ and ‘Jon’ would fade away like a bad dream.

 “You’re one to talk. We would attract less attention if you would loosen up a bit. I mean, I’m not perfect, but kids don’t talk so formally.”

 “I would rather not suffer through the indignity of dumbing myself down on top of everything, thank you very much.”

 “It’s not that bad. Why are you always so prickly?” Martin pokes him in the shoulder, grinning now, forcing Jon to shuffle away, “Normal kids smile every now and then you know.”

 “I think you enjoy being a ‘normal’ kid a bit too much.” Martin had settled into his second skin with more grace than Jon had. Not that he was trying very hard. 

 A laugh, “Well yeah, I mean, no responsibilities, no nightmare monsters, no conspiracies, no apocalypse. It’s nice.”

 “Oi Jiro!” 

A heavy-set kid, two years their senior, stomps up and glares at them, “you and the weirdo coming or what because I don’t want to miss dinner again,”

 “He has a name you know,” Martin reprimands, smile quickly turning into a stern frown, “Maybe you should try using it.”

 “Tch. Whatever. Mrs Suzuki said to be back by five and I’ll get in trouble if I leave you losers behind, so you better hurry up.” The boy storms away, back to his group of friends, who all look their way and laugh.

 “I don’t remember kids being so mean when I was young the first time around,” Martin complains, standing and brushing himself down, “You would think they’d have better things to do.”

 He shrugs. Child bullies were so far beneath him that he barely registers when they shout insults at him, shove him into walls or knock books out of his hand. Not like he didn’t deserve a little hardship after dooming his entire world. Besides, Martin took offence enough for the both of them, getting into plenty of arguments on Jon’s behalf. Of course, now they both had somewhat threatening quirks, their fellow housemates were a lot wearier when it came harassing him.

 “Come on.” He stands as well, “I for one do not want another lecture.”

 “Mrs Suzuki does like to drag them out,” Martin agrees as they trail along behind the older kids.

 Their neighbourhood is full of two-story apartment blocks and tightly packed houses which line the relatively quiet streets. It is only a short ten-minute walk from the park to the share-house and one he is intimately familiar with seeing as his carers force him to take it twice a week for ‘the exercise.’ At least the weather is pleasant here.

  In the fading light of the afternoon Martin’s wispy, cloud-like hair and blue pupilless eyes catch the glow so they are almost orange. Martin’s strange physical features had become more pronounced since his quirk’s activation. Apparently, it was genetic, something a quick glance at the few photos Martin had of his biological family confirmed. This world sported many people with odd features and he just hoped that his own plain appearance, straight black hair and dark eyes, would remain that way. All he wanted was fade into the background and live his second life as peacefully as possible.

...

(Part 2 here): Jon learns more about his truth-quirk and deals with other people learning about his truth-quirk.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Ya know what these self-indulgent Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow posts need? Self-indulgent banner art, that’s what.

Spoilers for issue #4!

Let’s start this off right with CREATOR CREDITS. Issue 4 of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is titled “Restraint, Endurance, and Passion.” Written by Tom King, Art by Bilquis Evely, Colors by Matheus Lopes, Letters by Clayton Cowles, and Edited by Brittany Holzherr. (w/ Assist. Editor: Bixie Mathieu & Senior Editor Mike Cotton)

THE STORY: 

Right, so this? This issue? Best one yet.

Also the bleakest of the bunch thus far; even though we don’t always see the brutality of the space pirates that Kara and Ruthye are following, there’s...the suggestion of it. The aftermath. And how Kara responds to it.

Okay, getting a little ahead of myself. BASIC PLOT SUMMARY: Ruthye and Kara continue their pursuit of Krem, who has taken up with Barbond’s Brigands.

The Brigands basically just. Murder and terrorize people, for profit.

Each planet they visit brings new horrors, as well as people who need Supergirl’s help.

And help she does.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

I yell a lot about the art on this book, and have, in fact, openly admitted that I’m primarily here for Evely and Lopes.

Well, that wily son-of-a-gun King went and wrote some of the best ‘Super’ stuff I’ve ever read and dang it, dang it, now I gotta yell about the words too. XD

Specifically, I wanna yell (in a good way!) about some words that occur towards the very end of the book.

Kara and Ruthye have Seen Some Things; things like genocide and mass grave sites and horrible violence, and upon reaching a planet where peaceful monks were slaughtered, Kara’s had enough, and needs to leave because if she screams, she’ll destroy what little is left of the monks’ monastery.

Here’s the text in full, because my gosh. It’s so good:

“What I write next I write based on my observations in those long-ago days at the side of the greatest warrior in the history of this august reality we all call home. It is important to note that my assertions do not rely on anything Supergirl said. It was not a subject we ever discussed or even approached, but nonetheless I believe it to be as true as the turning of worlds. You see, what is not well understood about the daughter of Krypton is that her power was not one of action but one of restraint, endurance, and passion. She did not choose to fire a beam from her eyes, or have breath of ice, or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or any of her other well-documented miracles. No, she held back her heat vision to look you in the face. She warmed her breath to converse with you. She slowed herself to walk by your side. Ever moment of every day, she suppressed the forces churning inside of her. All of the energy of a dead world that strained against her many barriers, eternally demanded to be released. I believe this effort hurt her. I believe she lived her life in pain. But I reiterate again, for I think it important enough to repeat--These beliefs are based on my time at her side, watching her as she moved through strife and sorrow. If you were to have asked her, I have little doubt she would have claimed that such as assertion was absurd. She would say she felt fine and well and then she’d as you if you needed any help.”

A long chunk of words, I know (this comic is DENSE!) but like. This is it. This is one of the defining attributes of the Supers--all that raw power at their disposal and they choose to help people, to be kind, to suppress that power for the benefit and safety of others.

HNNNNNNNG.

Hope, Help, and Compassion for All.

Whole lotta folks claimed at the outset of this book that King did not understand Kara, that he was a bad fit. And that may be so, I suppose--there’s a whole other discussion about like. The violence and swearing and ‘does that belong in a Supergirl book?’ But the characterization? Getting that Kara and Clark are just good people? 

King gets it. He got it in Superman: Up in the Sky and he gets it here, in Woman of Tomorrow.

Other things King gets! Kara is stubborn! Kara is passionate! Kara is going to fix things, even if the effort of doing so hurts her, physically, emotionally, and mentally!

(Fuuuuuuun fact for the crowd saying that Woman of Tomorrow is vastly superior to the CW show: TV Kara is ALSO all of those things! King isn’t pulling this stuff out of thin air. It’s almost like...gosh. I don’t know! Both the show and Tom King are pulling from the character’s comic history, or something!!!! HOW NOVEL.) 

Like, seriously. There’s a lot of overlap. Stop pitting Karas against each other!

Anyways!

I promised art, so here is art!

Oh, right, forgot to mention, Kara literally THROWS HERSELF INTO THE SUN to express her grief and anger, so as to not cause that unnecessary destruction. She gives new meaning to the phrase: Set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. 

More art yelling: GOTTDAMN, the way Evely draws Kara just colliding with the surface of the sun and then the way Kara’s hair like...becomes the flames...

I am FEELING FEELINGS. HOW DARE.

Also, props to King and Cowles; King for deciding to have that initial scream, Cowles for the way the letters burst forth from the point of impact on the sun, and then back to King who decided that it would just be...devastating silent screaming from Kara, for the remainder of the scene. 

Back to the characterization, I just wanted to highlight something I mentioned...earlier on, I think? In these posts? But haven’t brought up recently, and that is how this book has not once brought up Zor-El, and I think Superman only got a quick mention in issue 2.

Honestly, I think that’s gotta be some kind of record.

It’s so refreshing. Not because I think there should never be mentions of Clark, or anything--I love that boy--but because so much of modern Supergirl comic drama is mined from the same like, angsting over her place compared to Clark, or her crazy sometimes-a-supervillain dad. 

There is no Clark and Kara drama here, no manufactured friction, because it’s just. A cool Supergirl story! 

Gonna keep going, but let’s do it with some more...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Once again, Mat Lopes is all over the dang place with his palettes, it’s marvelous.

Each new planet gives Evely the opportunity to go hog wild on the worldbuilding and design, and similarly! Each new locale is an opportunity for Lopes to set the tone with colors. Like, here, towards the beginning of the book, we’ve got a planet bathed in this warm, pale yellow/orange light. 

(Quick note: “Sure, yeah, I get it. We all have our duties. And it’s mine as a neighbor to do what I can to help you with yours. Please.” A+ Kara content. We love to see it. And then locating the remains of the alien’s daughter, so that they can go visit the grave site and have some emotional closure???? It’s just. So. Touching.)

Anyways, back to colors.

Like!!!! LOOK AT THAT JUMP. From the soft, almost pastoral feel of the delicate oranges and yellows to HARD GREEN, PINK, AND PURPLE. (Difficult colors to pull off in print, I might add.) 

(This is also an interesting scene, character-wise, because I think it helps re-contextualize some earlier stuff with Kara. Like, I’m mostly thinking that incident on the bus, where she was swearing at the passengers as the space dragon was about to destroy them. Here, we see Kara kind of...goad this alien woman into releasing her pent up emotions by yelling at her/getting her to fight, and you can clearly see at the end of it that Kara did not mean the things she said, because check this out:

She goes and gives her a hug once the woman is able to finally cry.

It’s not ‘Kara is being mean, Kara is swearing at her’, it’s, ‘Kara has an unorthodox solution to a problem, and she’s gonna FIX that problem, NO MATTER WHAT.’

Circling back to the bus thing--again, that could be an instance of ‘unorthodox approach to a weird situation that Kara is going to handle because lives are at stake.’)

But also, DIG THAT KIRBY KRACKLE, BAY-BEEEEE!

And a little Strange Adventures easter egg! The Pykkts! 

(I think those guys are unique to the Black Label series, rather than deep Adam Strange lore, but don’t quote me on that.)

Moving on to YET ANOTHER PALETTE, one I’ve dubbed, ‘Treasure Planet Purple/Grey’

Love Ruthye’s snoozing against the door, waiting for Kara.

Also, just as striking as the colors of the environment, are the colors used on Kara. 

If you compare this page with the previous one, Kara’s eyes are a paler shade of blue, and the red-rimmed look on her eyes here is not as intense as the red-rimmed look we saw back in issue one, when she was confronting Krem. 

All of which to say! There’s a pale, haunted quality to both the linework and the colors. Like. We know Kara has Seen Some Things. But she’s shoving all that stuff down to protect Ruthye, to save Krypto, and to stop these monsters, and you get all of that WITH COLORS AND LINES ON A PAGE.

I love it, I love it so much.

OTHER BOOKS WISH THEY HAD THIS LEVEL OF CHARACTER ACTING, I TELL YA! THEY WISH THEY HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL ALCHEMY OF INKER, COLORIST, AND WRITER WORKING IN SUCH TIGHT TANDEM!

Ahem. XD

Alright, last bit of art, lest I just. Post the whole issue in here. (Which I’m honestly always tempted to do but Strong Feelings about Piracy hold me back.)

JUST HECKIN’ LOOK AT THAT BLUE, MAN. JUST LOOK AT IT. S’BEAUTIFUL.

And more stunning character acting from Evely. Like. Bottom middle panel. The expression, the tilt of her head and the shadows on her eyes...

*insert silent flailing here*

Oh, also, KRYPTO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVESSSS (for now). 

I’m never right about these things, so I’m glad the one time I’ve correctly read a thing is when it involves Krypto not, ya know. Being dead. XD

Also absolutely love that Kara’s instinct is to send Ruthye home to protect her--once more leaning into that whole, ‘I’m going to protect you, even at great cost to myself’, though of course we know that she can’t send her home, not here, not now, just halfway through our journey. 

ERRRRRRGH, so mad we’re not getting twelve issues of this! CURSE YOU, POOR SUPERGIRL TRADE SALES! CURSE YOOOOOOU!

That said, King’s pacing? Has been phenomenal. I feel like Strange Adventures and even Mr. Miracle kinda...I’m not gonna say dragged, that’s not quite right. But it is more build up, I guess. Takes a while to get to the payoff.

Here, I think King is pushing things steadily along as he doesn’t have the benefit of an additional four issues, so he has to get to the point, so to speak. Keeps everything moving.

SOME FINAL, MISC. STUFF:

I’ve sort of glossed over the darker stuff from this issue, and I just wanna note that like. This is a book that features a bad guy getting stoned (in the death sentence way, not the drug way) on panel. Like. I can’t recommend this to children.

I can’t even really recommend it to some other Supergirl fans, because I know that the King elements will be too off-putting. 

It never feels like the book is going too far, though. At least in like an...exploitative way? If that makes sense?

The violence is handled with discretion, I guess is what I’m trying to convey. This could very easily tip over into like, gross shock factor territory, if not handled well, but I think the creative team pulls it off.

...Still wouldn’t hand this book to kids, though. XD

As mentioned, we’re halfway through this series! Can’t wait to see where it goes--every time I think I have this book figured out, it surprises me. So, like. Bring on the Dinosaur planet! With no sunlight! I wanna see how Lopes handles THAT. XD

(But Oh, OooooOOooh, we gotta wait until NOVEMBER.)

(Hhhnnnnng!)

(Then again, maybe that’s good; we’ve got the TV show in the meantime, and then once it ends we can pick right up with new Supergirl content just a few weeks later.)

(...Aw. Made myself a little sad, thinking about the TV show coming to an end.)

:C

So as not to end on that sad note, here once again is tiny, smushed Kara:

Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle.

[loneswaggingranger]

Does it matter?

By @loneswagger for @pixiethefirecat7

This is for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Bruce Banner, May Parker

Summary: 

When Peter reached forward and called his name, Tony honest-to-god flinched away from him. 

His fingers twitched. “Captain Rogers did this, didn’t he?”

Hard brown eyes snapped shut. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Peter said, kneeling softly beside the hero’s battered form. “It does.” -

The one where Tony Stark lives with a metal arm, Steve Rogers never became old, and Peter Parker baffles at how incredibly fine they make everything seem. Or, the one where Peter Parker becomes Tony's designated spokesperson. Seriously, what would they do without him? (Nothing, apparently.)

Story under the cut! Hope you like it~

Does it hurt?

*

He once found Tony shirtless and utterly wasted in the lab, drowning in a sea of one too many shattered decanters, knuckles gone white from wringing that outdated burner phone for who knows how long. Crimson dribbled from calloused palms across scarred flesh, to ripped jeans over to  shimmering glass shards littered upon sullied floors. 

When Peter reached forward and called his name, Tony honest-to-god flinched. 

His fingers twitched. “Captain Rogers did this, didn’t he?”

Hard brown eyes snapped shut. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Peter said, kneeling softly beside the hero’s battered form. “It does.”

*

When Peter came home, he expected many things. He expected his dingy little apartment with the wafting smells of May’s burnt bread, imagined snuggling on the couch with her, and watching cheesy soap operas all through the night. He expected those weekly sessions with just him and Mr. Stark in the lab, planning, tinkering and innovating without a care in the world, positively shining whenever Mr. Stark whistled and said, “You got brains, kid.”

He should have known, expectations rarely matched up with reality.

Said notion found him in front of his lunch one day, mumbling, “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

 “Oh?” A tilted look of concern.

“I just- I never expected this, y’know?” Peter twirled a fork aimlessly between his fingers, eyes trained so hard on his meal he thought it might start sizzling soon. Or evaporate into dust. Whichever seemed possible at this rate. “It’s not bad, I mean, you have a great family and an actual kid now- which is totally cool, by the way! And May - May has Happy now, so the apartment's not that empty anymore, a-and she smiles a whole lot more these days. Which is good, I guess. The Accords isn’t even a legit thing anymore, the Avengers come together to sing Kumbaya every other weekend,” His fingers tightened round the fork. “Everything’s all good, yeah?”

There probably would have been a reply, if it wasn't for the tell-tale thump of approaching footsteps Peter never dreamed of growing familiar with.

“Afternoon, Captain Doritos,” Mr. Stark’s drawl felt appeasing at best, challenging at worst.

Captain Rogers threw a half-glance his way, nodding curtly. He went for the fridge in two large strides, swiping out a carton of milk and downing its contents in one vigorous go.

“Ugh, you’re gross, Cap, I’m getting the hell out of here,” Mr. Stark rose from his seat, lightly tousling Peter’s hair as he went. “Finish your grub and hang in the lab with me later, yeah?” His eyes seemed to soften. “It‘ll be just like old times.”

 Old times. Right.

“Also-” Mr. Stark slapped the good Captain’s shoulder, smirking wildly at the vexed ‘Oi!’ that elicited. “If we’re watching anything remotely Disney tonight, I’m going back to Pep’s for the weekend.” 

“For that alone, we’re watching Moana, Frozen and Mulan!” Captain Rogers hollered after the retreating metal middle finger shot high in the air, shaking his head once it fully disappeared down the hallway. A bemused look. “What’s wrong with Disney?”

Peter scoffed, grin plastered expertly on his face.

Another thing that didn’t make sense, this song and dance. This parade of concealed emotions, this system of tactical meet-and-retreat, this exhibition of faux jaunt put up for one another. The shake in Captain’s tone, the tremor in Mr. Stark’s arm - almost indiscernible and yet there it was. Always there, each time Peter looked.

Captain’s carton of milk slid into the bin by his feet. “So how was your week, son?”

Peter chewed on his noodles thoughtfully. “Tiring, I guess. Lots of homework. Also-” He made a face. “Son? Seriously? How nineteen-thirties can you get, Cap?”

Captain rolled his eyes, mock indignance in his stance. “Great. I have to deal with two Tony Starks in the team now, don’t I?”

“Exactly,” Peter smirked, drawing out the last syllable slightly.

*

He remembered piecing uncharacteristically silent calls with his own incessant chatter, so that the harsh breaths pulsating on the other end would finally, finally smoothen out. He remembered resting a hand over Tony’s arrhythmically flouncing heart, coaxing him for a meal, a drink or to just breathe. He remembered whispering to him in a voice so soft yet so firm, “Mr. Stark? Mr. St-Tony? Tony, it’s me. It’s Peter. No one else is here, okay? You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

He remembered the world of hurt his hero went through.

*

It wasn’t like Peter never asked. 

He tried asking during the quiet moments, when he and Mr. Stark were the only ones up at ass ‘o clock, when Mr. Stark strolled into the kitchen for customary morning tea (Pepper said weekends were coffee-free days). He tried asking during the loud ones too, when Mr. Stark was drunk on whatever alcohol he was having, when all the Avengers were in the room, because surely Mr. Stark wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to brag about a good story in front of everyone, right? Wrong. That particular fiasco ended with more than a couple uncomfortable looks, a pale-faced Mr. Stark storming out of said room and a flustered Peter trailing after him with his dozen apologies.

It got to the point where Mr. Stark had to sit Peter down, look him in the eye and say, “That’s it.” His finger, the metal one, dug deep into Peter’s collared shirt. “Stop it, kid. Me and Rogers, whatever happened between the two of us, it’s got nothing to do with you. And we’re fine now. We’re fixed. We watch Star Wars and Harry Potter every other Sunday, for god’s sake. There’s no better that we can get.” The other hand pressed on his arm shakily, a sort of pleading in the motion. “You don’t have to do anything for us anymore. Alright?”

Peter stopped asking after that.

Instead, he made observations. His eyes tracked each subtle gesture of wistful longing between the two, sometimes bordering on spontaneous animosity. Day and night, he made summaries, graphs, charts and fifty-one five-page essays for ten days in a row, writing and writing like he was running out of time.

He conducted interviews too.

Colonel Rhodes shook his head so adamantly when Peter pulled him aside for one of his trademark inquiry sessions, refusing to divulge anything more than a clipped but not unkind, "There’s definitely problems this team hasn't come to terms with yet, but it doesn’t fall on your shoulders to solve them, Peter." Dr. Banner had been much more forthcoming, nodding along to Peter’s mini monologue of observations. He even pitched in some of his own discoveries as to how the two skirted around each other when there was or wasn’t an audience, albeit with a mild warning that some things aren’t meant to be pushed too hard.

Even Bucky once appeared in front of Peter’s room, bouquet of purple hydrangeas and mug of hot chocolate in tow after one particularly brutal sparring session which had ended with one man’s ruptured blood vessel and another’s broken nose. He spent an hour trying to convey that, that was just their way of resolving conflict, their way of getting things out of their system. There wasn’t much that could be done about it. There wasn’t much they could do about it.

Or so they said.

But how many sleepless dawns after patrol had Peter spent - huddled under blankets in front of a glaring screen, scouring his way through Friday’s systems, keying in every code, every digit he thought would lead him to the right answer. Something, anything that he could work with.

Two months, twenty days and twelve hours later, he found it. The answer. Or at least, a part of it.

 It wasn’t pretty.

He knew. He knew, he knew, he knew that The Winter Soldier wasn’t Bucky, that the man in the video was just Hydra’s brainwashed lackey, that the Bucky he was familiar with would never consent to do anything remotely similar to what he had seen him do. He knew this, and yet some nights still found him jolting awake in a sea of his own sweat; May’s gasps echoing Maria Stark’s dying wheeze, Howard and Tony Stark’s pleas morphing into one, cold unflinching gaze haunting all the moments he fell quiescent. 

In the moments that he was restless, however, Peter resumed his search. He ploughed through the frights and horrors and sleepless dawns even more frenetically than he first did, because if he didn’t get to the bottom of this, no one else would. Because he knew there was more than just ‘The Winter Soldier murdered Mr. Stark’s parents’; there was always more.

Because what use was a team, if all its splintered souls did nothing to embrace their blemishes?

*

“Hey, Pete.”

 “Hm?”

“Wanna’ skip out on the theater gig tonight?” Alloyed fingers drummed idly on the lab table. “We could stay in here for a bit, work on those web-shooter combinations. Could order some tacos. Or pizza. Your choice.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Thought it was supposed to be tradition.”

“Yeah, I’m getting kinda’ sick of Rogers' princess movie obsession,” His eyes drifted upwards, thumbs twiddling. “You could go, though. If you want.”

Peter pulled back without missing a beat, eyes widening in comical fashion. “No, are you crazy? Lab night with pizza? When do I ever turn that down, Mr. Stark?”

An honest grin slid across Mr. Stark’s features. “Never.”

“That’s right.” Peter closed his eyes, leaning into the touch rifling through his unkempt locks. “Never.”

*

It didn’t make sense.

Did you know?

I didn’t know it was him.

Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!

Yes.

Peter watched, and still, nothing made sense.

He’s my friend.

So was I.

It. didn’t. make. sense.

*

Blinding white tore across the starless city sky in sharp erratic bursts, heated claws threatening to eliminate all in its path with each stroke of rampant rage. Ice-cold rivulets knocked mercilessly against bare skin, freezing the seconds ticking by as raddled sneakers thrummed upon asphalt, each reverberating cadence in perfect harmony with the furious anthem of unvoiced justice pumping through his veins.

Said anthem soared ever the more when the Captain’s door flung open, pounding hard at the seemingly bewildered face meeting his view.

"Peter? What's wrong?" The golden boy scanned him up and down, concern thick in his tone. "Why aren't you in your suit? Did something happ-"

Peter threw the answer up in his face, letting the phone explain everything as he panted over bent knees. The stark silence that ensued spoke for itself.

"Stevie, what's- oh." Him. No, Bucky. "Peter. You're- why don't we all come inside, yeah? Rain's pouring out here." The voice, so tender, not like. Not like him. Not. Him."I'll put the kettle on."

Which was how Peter ended up in one of Bucky's oversized shirts, settled opposite two war veterans, hands cupped round a mug of hot chocolate and eyes cast in a blatant show of quiet outrage.

"Explain," The anthem burned strong in him.

"Son-"

"Don't call me son."

"-this was all on me, alright?" Dejected tone, blonde head bowed over clasped hands.

Good.

“I- we disagreed on the Accords because-”

“I don’t care about that, Captain,” Peter set the mug down, flexing his fingers mechanically. “The Accords was rigged to begin with. Whatever that came after, shouldn’t be put on anyone but Ross, that I get.” He pressed a finger to the cracked screen of his phone. “No Captain, I’m talking about this.”

Captain Rogers stared at him with eyes so blue, but like the sick man in the video pointed out, there was a hint of green in that blue. A flaw.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” The captain leaned back into his seat, where Bucky’s prosthetic arm (that Tony Stark built for him) was stretched rigidly upon. “I thought that by not telling him, I was sparing him from the sorrow. But really, I was just sparing myself. I- I never meant for him to get hurt. And I’m sure, neither did he.”

Oddly, that last sentence was what pushed Peter over the edge.

 “Neither did he?” His jaw clenched. “Neither did- are you seriously saying that right now? Of course he didn’t mean to hurt you! If he had any control over the situation, any control of the information that you withheld from him, he would not have done that.”

 “I know, Peter.”

 “Do you?” He hissed. “Do you really? Do you know the pain of losing your parents, of not knowing what the hell happened to them except that ‘They died in an accident’? Do you know the want, the pure want, to kill the piece of shit that took their lives, that walked free as you mourned their deaths? That ripped them from you, before you even got to know them?” His fists shook in tandem with the throbbing crescendo of his anthem. “Do you know, how Mr. Stark fought for you behind the scenes? How he wrote and rewrote proposals to alter The Accords, only to be rejected by Ross time and time again? How he hired lawyers and sometimes personally went to vouch for the others in the Raft? How he lost sleep at night, how he drank himself into oblivion, whimpering your name, begging me each time not to tell Mrs. Pepper or Rhodes, because apparently, it didn’t matter?”

 Captain Rogers stiffened in his seat.

“Do you know?”

 “No, son.”

 “I’m not your son.”

 Bucky remained a stock still statue by the Captain’s side.

 Peter sighed, shoulders sagging. Deep breath, calm down. “Sorry.” The lingering pulse of anguish pushed to the back of his mind. “That was uncalled for. Sorry. ”

 “Don’t be.” Bucky replied with haste.

 Peter made another haphazard gesture towards their object of discussion. “Did you guys ever try talking to him about this?”

 “I wrote him a letter.”

 “Yeah, and sent him a burner phone, I know.” Peter snapped, tone sharp. “Scintillating ultimatum you gave him, by the way. He broke it in his fists after two whole months of drinking and staring.”

 “Sorry.”

“Don’t say that to me, Cap,” His fingers tapped the mug handle almost frantically. “Say that to Tony. He needs to hear it.”

 “It’s only two years for you, Peter, but it’s been seven for us. He might’ve- he might not want to hear about this anymore. We’re fine like this.”

 “Bullshit. Don’t think I haven’t notice the way you both act with each other. You guys really need to solve this shit,” Peter mulled over his words, before adding, “By solve, I mean talk about it. Not punch the living daylights out of each other.”

 Captain Rogers shrugged hopelessly. “We don’t talk about things like this. It’ll just escalate, and then we’d be throwing fists all over again. Might as well get that done without scarring our hearts more than it already has been.”

 “Are you serious?” Muted wrath threatened to positively devour the mug in his hands. “Dude, we could have lost Tony in that war. He could have snapped his fingers, and that would have been the last we saw of him. Would you have lived with this then? Not talking about this, because neither of you can stop feeding your very physical ego for one goddamn second? Because neither of you were brave enough to listen?”

 Again, the stark silence spoke for itself.

 “You need to talk about this.”

 “Look, son-”

 “Damn it, Cap!” Peter roared, fists banging against the table. “Call me son one more time!” The mad beast reared its horrendous head, yanking his vocal chords to unrivalled heights, fuelled by the heated flames that grew larger and fiercer with each thunderous beat. It fed off the tension, the visceral need to rip, maw and absolutely pulverise anything and everything that it could find.

 Reddened eyes, full of tears unshed, reflected one another transparently.

 He couldn’t take this anymore.

 “Honestly,” He stood, mug left untouched, voice barely over a whisper. “With all due respect, Captain Rogers. You’re a fucking dick.”

 Peter left, door slam behind him, along with Captain’s echoed ‘Wait!’ and Bucky’s muted ‘Kid’s got a point, Steve.’

*

Peter thought that if he found the answer, everything would make sense. Or, at the very least, he would feel better about things not making sense.

 Clearly, he had been wrong.

 The first night he stopped searching, his phone rang like the house was on fire.

 Mr. Stark had been the first to call. Followed by Colonel Rhodes, then Bucky, then Captain Rogers, then Dr. Banner, and then subsequently the rest of what his team was supposed to consist of.

 He refused to answer. He didn’t care if his phone burst from being called 24/7. He didn’t care.

 Instead, he spent the rest of his time doing what he did best - he looked out for the little guy. He threw himself in front of cars inches away from crashing into one another, saved kittens from trees, taught children how to look both ways before crossing the street, spent time with that tired old man sitting alone on the park bench every week.

And when he wasn’t doing this, he was with May. May and Happy, sometimes, but mostly May.

 He did his homework, with May. He had breakfast, lunch and essentially all his meals, with May. He watched those cheesy soap operas he missed, with May. He did all the things he longed to do, mourning the years that he lost, with May.

 “Are you okay, baby?”

 Maybe it was her firm arms cradling his head, maybe it was her tentative whisper, but there was something about hearing May calling him baby that made a lump form in his throat.

 “I don’t know.”

 May hummed. “Do you want to talk to Tony about it?”

 “No,” Peter sniffed. “Not for now.”

 “Okay, baby,” May rubbed the back of his neck in a way that only she knew how. “That’s okay.”

 He stopped going for movies and lab nights on the weekends.

 *

bucko (4:03 a.m.) : Hey punk, stevie and tony talked it out for a while. wasn’t pretty but, it was necessary, I think. you’re a legend, kid

 coolestdoctorr(4:23 a.m.): I heard what you did. We all needed that to happen eventually. Thank you for being the bravest of us, for acknowledging our flaws and for bringing our team together as best as you can. Take as much rest as you need, and if you need someone to talk to, I’m happy to listen. Stay safe, and we love you.

 warmachineROX (4:29 a.m.): you did great, Peter. I’m sorry i said you couldn’t do this; those boys really needed a nudge. Thanks for doing what you did. Take care, kid.

 so-you-got-detention (4:28 p.m.): Peter, I don’t think there’s anything I can say except I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have talked with him about this 7 years ago. I spent a couple long hours with Tony earlier this weekend. That hardly made up for anything, but we’ll work it out. Things aren’t perfect, we’ll get it better. We have you to thank for that. I know you’re angry with me, which you have every right to be, but know that if you ever need help, just call me. I’ll be there.

 he’s stark, tony stark (5:01 p.m.): b at ur place in 5 mins[sunglasses emoji]

 *

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, kid.”

“Steve mad at me?”

“Definitely not.”

“...You mad at me?”

A pause. “Not really, no,” Mr. Stark rubbed the side of his chin, tilting his head towards Peter. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Peter felt his lips shiver against his teeth, sheen of moist clouding his vision, head bowed low and voice crackling, “It does.”

Arms, one alloyed and the other so very real, quietly rolled themselves round his trembling frame, guiding his head towards the steady rise and fall of his hero’s chest, flesh thumb rubbing slow circles over his back, whispers of soft nothings soothing his hair and eventually, a light peck on the forehead.

They stayed like that for a while, beside Peter’s unmade bed, melancholic warmth emanating like cool salve on an open wound. It was comforting, that lack of sound, that silence that spoke the thousand words they couldn’t.

And then, the patented smirk. “You did good, kid,” His tone, so fond. “Friday probably thinks otherwise, though. She’s a little pissed, I think. Kudos for that, by the way. Real sneaky.”

Purely on a whim, Peter snorted, “Love you too, Tony.”

For a moment, it looked as though Tony might just melt into an emotional puddle of goo. Thankfully, he didn’t; Peter wouldn’t know what to do if he did. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath, squeezed Peter closer to his heart, and in a voice smaller than Peter had ever heard, muttered,“Lab night this Sunday?”

Peter, in all his glorious mess of tears and snot, broke into a wobbly laugh.

*

Always.

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die - Chapter 2

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 2)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Names are powerful things--and after ten years, Logan's has acquired quite a bit. The restoration of his power is something he has to fight viciously to keep secret...But he's not the only necromancer who's in hiding. Above his head, Roman is being introduced to the people of the Kingdom's as his father's successor--but someone in the shadows is coming for the royal house of Sanders, of which Roman is part.And Logan will not stand for someone laying figurative hands on anyone that belongs to him.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: lots of death because necromancy, slash, and more to come as I figure it out ‘cause it’s late and I’m tired. In this particular chapter, CW for angst--I’ll post what kind at the end if you want to avoid spoilers, but I’m warning because for me? It’s a triggery subject. Be safe, you’re all so sweet and ILU.

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1025, A.A.

“Berry?”

Logan was yanked from a sound sleep by the utterance of his name—not the sound, but the feeling of it. Crawling around inside his skull like ants, static electricity shocking his neural pathways and the core of his essence. It was red strings and his first meal after that one stretch in the dungeon's blackout cells after he punched the guard that dislocated his shoulder.

Logan Berry. Logan Berry. The gift from his guardian angel was two years old at this point...and Logan was starting to wonder if it was more than just a small reminder of his personhood, to keep the harsh world around him from breaking his spirit.

Sitting up, Logan rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses where they sat on the floor beside his pallet. When they had finally given them back to him two weeks after his arrival, the right lens had been all but shattered. The guard who had returned them—the same one who injured him—smiled far too wide for Logan's liking, inciting the attack that had gotten him punished.

“I am awake.” he announced softly, sliding his glasses on and rising from his pallet to approach the bars of his cell. Squinting in the low torchlight, he searched...

A point of bright yellow sunlight, slit down the middle by a reptilian pupil gleamed in the shadows before the body it was attached to came into view. Swiftly, it was joined by another eye, very much human and dark as chocolate. A sweep of hair as black as Logan's own fell across his forehead, and the torchlight gleamed across the burnished surface of the scales that covered half of the young drake's face and neck.

“Of course.” the drake shot back dryly, not quite managing to hide the sibilant accent inherent to his species. “That's why you were snoring.”

“What do you want, Janus?”

The eighteen year old Janus narrowed his mismatched eyes at Logan—but quickly gave up on trying to look intimidating. He hardly needed it, being not only older, but the son of the captain of the guard.

“A favor.” he admitted, sparking enough of Logan's interest to banish the last of the cobwebs lingering in his head. Janus didn't like being indebted to anyone—and, to that end, usually came to Logan for favors, as Logan was always perfectly willing to trade his assistance for some commodity, be it books, food, or the repair of his glasses.

“What is the favor?” Logan asked.

Janus said nothing for a long moment, staring into Logan's face...no, not his face. Squinting, he realized Janus was quite deliberately avoiding direct eye contact by focusing on a point just above Logan's eyes, somewhere around his forehead.

“Janus?...”

Shutting his eyes, Janus ducked his head.

“I...need a name.”

“A...what?”

“A name, all right? Like the one you picked for yourself.”

Logan was startled by that request—he told no one about the boy who came to him, claimed he made up his own surname to replace the Name that was stripped away. Some of the guards disliked it, stirring fresh retellings of the legends of the Lazari: necromancers with the power not merely to raise the dead, but craft true, living souls from sheer force of will.

He even heard some new ones about the Animata: a theoretical balance to the Necromata, magic practitioners that could manipulate life the way necromancers manipulated death. From the stories Logan overheard while pretending to sleep with guards outside his cell, the Animata had been wiped out by the rise of the Animator, the First of the Necromata, leading to his rise and attempted enslavement of the Kingdoms. With the Animata gone and unable to keep the balance in check, the king had been forced to slay the Animator and had outlawed necromancy soon after.

All stories, of course...but over the last two years, as his name wormed through his brain the way the power of the prison mages had, it sometimes made him wonder. After all, mythology and legend served two functions in human history: explaining natural phenomenon that were not yet understood, or hyperbolic retellings of one or many actual events.

So the prison guards talked, wondered if Logan had designs on restoring his own Name through the adoption of a new one—but Janus, for all his trust issues and ilicit dealings, was an intelligent boy with a good head on his shoulders. He wasn't one for fanciful stories—only those that he could tell in the name of manipulating others.

Perhaps that was why he felt some measure of shame or embarrassment for asking Logan this favor? There was clearly some...unidentified emotion behind the request, and Logan wasn't particularly good at coping with emotional issues. He highly suspected that, when he still had a Name, he had been essentially the same.

“...I want to be allowed to keep books in my cell.” He hadn't meant to say anything indicating agreement—but the words fell out of his mouth without any conscious permission.

Janus's head snapped up sharply. This time, he met Logan's gaze with an intensity that was decidedly threatening.

“That's all?” he asked, squinting after a long moment. “No...commentary?”

Logan shrugged. “You know I do not care for sentiment. Your obvious flirtation with it, in this situation, does not interest me so much as what I can gain from the moment of weakness on your part.”

“Are you sure you're only fourteen? You sound way too much like my grandpa sometimes.”

Logan rolled his eyes, declining to rise to the bait. Instead, he gave the matter what he felt was a comically superficial amount of consideration.

“Hart.” he finally decided.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, mismatched eyes losing focus for a moment before he nodded to himself.

“That...works surprisingly well.” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than anything. Refocusing on Logan, Janus straightened and once again resumed his attempts at exuding as commanding a presence as he could manage.

“You'll get your books.” Janus assured him. “I always pay my debts.”

“Past performance indicates this is an accurate assessment. Hence my request.”

“Oh...go back to bed.”

“Gladly.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Ladies, lords, non-binary royalty, and all of my valued subjects!”

By the gods, I'm going to throw up.

Roman stood behind the curtain on the balcony, his heart in his throat. Every part of him was screaming to run, to hide, to sink into the floor and vanish through sheer force of his desire to not be there—to push Remus out to take his place when the king made his proclamation. Already, he could feel the weight of his impending responsibilities threatening to crush him, the world narrowing and the walls closing in...

He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready. He wasn't smart like Remus or as patient as his father, he wasn't commanding enough—he couldn't be king.

But he would be. One day.

Peering through the curtain, he saw his father turn...and though the pride in his face only made the terror worse, at the same time...

He could do this. He had to.

Smiling, King Thomas Sanders IV extended a hand towards him in silent encouragement. It was the same hand he offered to those subjects that knelt before him at court to have their grievances heard, the same hand he offered to both Roman and Remus as children when they felt shy or had fallen down while playing...

...or leading him back into the house when he was out to hunt a Lazari...

“I give you your future king—Prince Roman Sanders!”

A hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

“Give 'em hell, Ro Bro!” Remus hissed gleefully in his ear.

It was strange, but some of the weight lifted itself off of Roman's shoulders, with his brother's hand there instead as he stepped out onto the balcony and into the sunlight.

For a moment, it was...magical. The ghost of Remus's fingers pressed into his shoulder, his father's hand curling warm around his nape—the people of the Kingdoms below, smiling and cheering in a symphony that filled his lungs as readily as it filled his ears, turning his heart into pure starlight.

For a moment, basking in his father's pride, his brother's confidence, and his people's love—he didn't just feel like he could do this, he knew that he could.

For a moment—that was all he got before his heart stopped beating.

It happened suddenly, but somehow it felt as natural as breathing. The tension of that missing engine powering the body and soul, the inability to draw breath. It was the peace of sleep, the flow of one step into the next while walking down an evenly paved road—he knew something was wrong, and yet he could not escape the manner in which it felt so normal.

Standing there, dying in front of the very kingdom he was meant to serve with no rhyme or reason for it.

Let it go...it felt so right, it felt proper.

As his vision began to dim, and the hand he'd raised to wave to the crowd started to fall by his side, he felt the urge to fight sliding out of him, eyes already slipping shut...

Easy as existing. Getting dark, time to sleep.

Until he heard a sigh next to him that was chilling.

The king.

Death no longer felt so inevitable, nor did it feel right. It was wrong, but...it was inside him, twisting and warping to form words that echoed inside his head. Something was slipping into the void left behind by the absence of a heartbeat, speaking to him in the Reaper's voice...

The necromancer.

**********

Logan was only aware of it in passing—however, Logan wasn't supposed to be capable of even that, and had to take such painstaking care to make sure that no trace of his magic could be felt anywhere. He had to keep the fact that he had power hidden, had to beat back every trace of it.

So he was aware of his magic, far more than he was aware of the distant stars that were the lives of every creature within the palace and beyond.

And the feel of his power waking, straining towards death? That hit him hard, made him focus on that awareness of what was happening.

“Lo? You okay?”

Logan spun in his seat and stood, stalking up to the bars of his cell. It was little more than a voice in another house, reaching him barely through thin walls and great distances...but it was growing closer, crossing that distance, too close too close too close...

“Logan? You're scaring me.”

Patton was at his side, watching him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Someone is killing the king.” Logan breathed.

“What? How can you possibly know that?” Patton hissed.

Logan opened his mouth...and nothing came.

Until that voice, hollow and honeyed, was suddenly in his house and in his veins and in his...in his.

For the first time, Logan understood why the Necromata were so feared—why he was locked below ground, why he had no Name of his own and why it was so desperately important to make sure no necromancer could ever practice their art.

The moment he sensed that foreign power encroaching on something that belonged to Logan alone, everything was chilling instinct and cold, calculating fury. The power swept up and took over, took action to reclaim what was being stolen.

The king was dying, but so was the Green Man.

Logan's last rational thought before an eerie blue light swallowed up his eyes and the power wiped his mind clean was that, if the Green Man was close enough to the king, he might actually be able to save them both.

********** The necromancer in the dungeons. Roman could feel it, he was certain of it...it felt cold and airy, thick morning fog swirling through his marrow yet rendering his mind strangely clear. It was familiar, not all that different from the way it felt when they touched in Roman's dreams.

The necromancer was there. He was...helping Roman.

You have to get to the king.

He didn't know, even after all these years didn't realize who Roman was, and that was the way it ought to be, and yet...he was warning Roman, he was--

The wrongness of it filled his chest in the space of a blink, filled his lungs, forced breath into his body. The fight squeezed every muscle, including his heart, in a steady rhythm that started his blood moving again. Roman tried to clutch at his chest, but he couldn't.

He felt cold all over, but his body was working, warring with some outside force, struggling to stay alive.

His body was no longer his to control, he realized with a rush of fear. The necromancer...chill fog, thick and light and clear, in his head and his veins and his heart...

Roman's body was turning, his head swiveling around, obeying an order he did not give.

The necromancer was animating him now, manipulating his every move—and all Roman could do was stand there and let it happen--

Go.

...Father!

This time, when he tried to move, his body obeyed him, his will and that of the necromancer uniting as one.

He rushed forward, reaching out...

In just enough time to catch the king as he fell, a corpse gone cold by the time the both of them reached the ground. ((CW: parental death--but this IS a necromancer AU. Just keep that in mind. XD))

[rhubarbbaby]

Strawberries and Art 1

Jihoon x Y/N

Genre: College AU, Fluff Word Count: 2k Summary: Like every passionate art student, you spend most of your time immersed in your drawings and paintings. The day you meet Jihoon, your everyday life suddenly gets a lot more exciting…

All chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Chapter 1

Changing the song that was currently playing on your phone, while at the same time trying very hard not to reduce your walking speed was definitely (much) harder than you thought. Twenty minutes ago you had still been asleep in your comfy bed while dreaming about... dreaming about what?

The memories of your dream had slipped away the second your alarm went off. The excessively shrill, piercing tone you had set for your alarm used to get you into a lot of fights with your brother when you were still living at home, because “What the fuck is that sound? Can´t you just use that weird guitar riff like any other fucking normal person?” Although you did always feel a tiny bit of pity for your brother and knew that he had a point (you would of course never admit that), you never changed the sound. You surely were not fond of it yourself but you needed something to pull you out of your sleep.

Even before you started attending university you were used to staying up late. Undeniably, staying up late was and will never be a healthy way to treat your body, you are very much aware of that. Your body wanting to sleep for seven maybe even eight hours was something you have always considered the cruelest inconvenience, the most ridiculous joke, the crudest rule the universe has set for you. Late at night was the time it was the easiest for you to pour all your thoughts, all the inspirations you had collected during the day into your drawings. How were you supposed to bend all your whirls of ideas into drawings if your body was basically screaming at you to finally go to bed? How presumptuous of your body to expect you to fulfill his basic needs.

But no matter how tired you were you nearly never managed to fall asleep before one in the morning which made you resort to the drastic measure of changing your alarm sound to said very shrill tone. After sometimes only four hours of sleep, your body was not willing to let you jump out of bed as simple as that.  One could say the fatigue almost holds you captive every morning until around nine am when you normally start to free yourself from the clutches of your own tired body.

Yesterday you unintentionally set the aforementioned alarm an hour too late which had led to you now having to rush to the lecture hall. Your art history class would be starting in three minutes and you needed at least another five to even get to the entrance door. Despite having had to open the music app on your phone just to select a completely different album until you could finally pick your desired song, you were sure you didn´t lose more than a few seconds. Now accompanied by an uplifting song (not too uplifting though because it was still only eight in the morning which was definitively too early for upbeat music) and the tapping of your shoes on the asphalt you were practically running to your destination.

The moment you finally reached the entrance door a wave of relieve swept over you. Your lecture had only started two minutes ago, which wasn´t too bad. You hurried down the hallway and slipped quickly through the door. Your eyes darted to the front to see if the professor had already started the class. Luckily for you she was still setting up the projector for her visual presentation.  While you tried to breathe calmly, which turned out to be quite a challenge after you had just crossed the entire campus in record time; you were looking for a free seat in the back. But this was an art history class. At eight in the morning. Nothing like an art history class before ten guarantees such an absurdly small amount of participating students. It was not difficult for you to find a free seat. (To be precise: you caught sight of more than twenty free seats.)

Seeing how many of your fellow students had deemed this class as “not worthy waking up for” you suddenly felt a bit insecure and ridiculous. You hated to miss class, even if it was art history. You knew that by simply listening to the professor you would already internalize some of the information. That meant you wouldn´t have to study as much at home anymore which meant you had more time for your drawings. Simple equation. Nevertheless you were feeling like the biggest nerd sitting in a half empty lecture hall with five other students.

Shaking your head slightly as if to get those unnecessary thoughts out of your brain you decided that it wouldn´t do you any good to continue thinking about your situation, so you simply took out your notebook and a pen to prepare yourself for the lecture. Four minutes after the professor had started speaking, your thoughts were already drifting off and your notebook got slowly filled with small doodles instead of the notes you were supposed to be taking.

Putting your things back into your bag you looked at your phone to check the time. It was 10 am. The professor´s voice long condemned to a pleasant background noise, you had spent the last two hours dozing and scribbling in your notebook. You hadn´t had breakfast and you were not hungry but you knew that giving your body some fuel in form of food would be the right thing to do right now. It was Friday and you knew your friend Jo did have morning classes just like you, so you decided to shoot her a message.

You: Hey wanna get breakfast?

You already felt your phone buzz after you left the lecture hall.

Jo: Sure! I´ll wait at the cafeteria.

Happy that you wouldn´t have to eat alone you grinned at your phone and started walking towards your friend. Entering the cafeteria you saw Jo waving while sitting at one of those big tables on the side. You shot her a smile and made your way over. With an overdramatic sigh you slumped down in the chair opposite of her.

“Was art history that bad?” she chuckled. “Honestly? I was just too tired to pay attention. I will never understand why classes that early even exist... It´s inhuman.” you retorted while shaking your head to emphasize your point. “Pretty sure some really sick sadistic psychopath invented morning classes.” She laughed but you knew she hated to get up early just as much as you. “Does Hansol not have class this morning?”

Hansol had been Jo´s boyfriend for a few months now. It´s definitely not that you are one of those girls who are obsessed with finding a boyfriend, haunted by the mission to find a pretty boy to post pretty Instagram pictures with, but Jo and Hansol´s relationship was kind of perfect, or so it seemed to the public eye and even though you (most certainly) were not one those girls, you couldn´t help but feel a bit jealous. Jo was one of your best friends and you were aware that their relationship wasn´t always ideal. They had smaller and sometimes bigger fights, like any other couple but they both were as happy as you had ever seen them and they supported each other unconditionally. When they got together you were scared you´d feel excluded when the three of you would hang out but Hansol turned out to be a total sweetheart (there really was no other way to describe him) who made sure you never felt left out.

“He does. He just was too lazy to get up today.” She shrugged. “You want pancakes? I´ll go get the food.” “Sure!” Fifteen minutes later both of you were not hungry anymore. “I didn´t even realize how hungry I was.” “I only ever realize how hungry I am when I start eating.” you agreed. “I totally forgot to ask you but did you already start drawing that portrait assignment?” “Don´t even remind me. I still have no idea who I´m going to draw. I don´t just want to draw some random celebrity. Everyone is going to do that and I really want it to be good.” “Yeah…but not everyone will be doing it as good as you. But like, have you thought about asking someone to model for you?” “Jo, are you indicating you want to be my muse?” you laughed with her tuning in right away. The mental image of her posing for you was more than just ridiculous. Just as she was about to answer, a boy interrupted the two of you. “You´re Hansol´s girlfriend right?” he asked her.

You had seen him passing you on the hallway before but until now he had never caught your eye. One look was enough for you to realize how pretty he actually was. Just like a mathematician who recognizes numbers everywhere with which they can explain mundane processes, just like a linguist who notices every subtlety of every single word and could distinguish the hidden delicate messages between each syllable, just like that you saw lines, strokes, patterns in the most varied and vivid colors that joined together in your imagination to form drawings and paintings in every place. You could be looking at any flower and the way the petals bent, the way the leaves curled around the stem would just make sense to you. That´s how you were looking at that boy´s face right now. His face seemed to consist out of tender drawn lines that intervened at the perfect spots. His eyes, his nose, his mouth that was slightly twisted upwards into a smile, everything just fit so wonderfully together you inevitably had to think about how amazing it would be to draw him.

“Yup, that´s me.” Jo´s voice had yanked you back out of your thoughts. “Me and Hansol have a class together. I forgot I still had one of his books and I think he needs it to study for that exam next week. Can I just leave it with you?”   He was holding out a book to her. “Sure! That´s really sweet of you, looking out for him like that.” With a comically exaggerated gesture he bowed before us. “The pleasure was all mine,” He grinned. “I´m Jihoon by the way.” “I´m Jo and this is Y/N.” Only now he turned his upper body and finally looked at you. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Maybe it was just your imagination, caused by the desire to be noticed by this undoubtedly (really fucking) attractive boy, but his gaze seemed to have remained on you for a tiny second too long for it to be considered normal.

“Delighted to meet you guys.” he stated with a childlike smile on his face which made his eyes disappear. “There´s this party tomorrow. Hansol said he´s coming. You two should come as well.” “We´ll think about it! Sounds like fun though.” Jo answered for the both of you. “Perfect! I should get going. I have class in a bit.” His gaze was turned back onto you. “You´re still going to eat that?” “Wha…What?” “That strawberry. You´re not going to eat that?” Only then you realized you had left a single strawberry on your plate. “No..you can have it.” You stuttered your reply, your eyes wide from embarrassment because you hadn´t immediately figured what he had meant. He picked up the strawberry and took a bite. “Thanks!” he grinned. And then he winked at you. Just like that. Without warning. Promptly you could feel your cheeks turn slightly red and you wanted nothing more than to hide your face in your hands but at the same time you could still not stop staring at his face. In that moment you would´ve sworn that wink was the cutest (but somehow also hottest) thing you had ever seen in your life. “See you at the party!” with that he turned away from you and made his way over to the exit.

Only now your cheeks slowly lost color and your breath seemed to slow down again. You looked at Jo. She looked at you. You didn´t have to say anything , she had already deciphered you. “So you think he´s hot?” she beamed. “So fucking hot.”

What you couldn´t have seen, of course, was the smile with which Jihoon had left the room. What else was he supposed to do when you were that damn cute?

Hi! It´s me, Jo. I´d like to thank you for reading my stuff! I really hope you enjoyed it. If you have any feedback, comments, requests, questions please let me know!

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Graduated - Gerard Way x Reader

Summary: The reader finally gets to graduate university and gets a little surprise from her boyfriend

Reader: female

Warnings: I wrote this for my friend, so this might be very specific (and exaggerated)…, not properly proof read :/

Word count: 2 384

A/N: I know I exaggerated some of the parts in here, and the person who this is for knows it’s for her, but I wrote it the way I imagine it must have felt like sometimes. I’m so fucking proud of you, sweetie.

Impatiently you shifted around on your chair. It was a nice chair, no reason to complain, but truth be told, you didn’t want to be here, not anymore. You were done here. All you really wanted was go home and video-call your boyfriend for as long as possible until he had to hang up.

But here you were, listening to the university’s dean’s speech in which you took no interest. Maybe you should have, after all this was your graduation ceremony, but you had already gotten your certificate, and now you wanted nothing but leave this part of your life behind.

Sure, time at uni had been fun. Sometimes. You had met a bunch of cool people who you enjoyed hanging out with, you had spent afternoons sitting in cafés with them, procrastinating the inevitable studying together, you had gone to parties and met more people, but in the end you had never really become as close with any of them as you would have wanted. Maybe because they wanted to be there, wanted to study architecture, and you just did it in order not to get into trouble with your parents.

How many times you had wanted to give everything up! How many times you thought about just throwing it all in the wind and run away, go on tour with your boyfriend who was playing in a band, just leave this godforsaken city behind!

It had not always been this bad, but the stress and anxiety had worn you out over the years, had caused burn out, or depression, or whatever you wanna call it. Not that anyone cared. Not until Gerard had come back into your life.

You had known him and Ray from school, had always been friends with them, even though they were a couple of years older than you. But as soon as Gerard’s brother Mikey had graduated high school the same year as you, they had piled into a van together with a guy called Frank (who now was just as much your friend as the rest of them), and had driven off into the sunset to make their dream of being a punk band into reality. Of course they had asked you to join them. And you had wanted to say yes so badly. But you knew that if you had done that, your parents would have never talked to you again, and so you had bowed to your parents wish and gone to university to study architecture, even though you never had really wanted that.

It had taken almost two years before your friends had finally been back in town, and those four weeks in the summer holidays had been the best four weeks of your life. You had hung out with them all the time, had made music, taken pictures of them, helped bring a huge art project to life… and you had gotten together with Gerard. He had always been the one you had felt drawn to the most, always been the one you had called first when you had good news to share. And between band practice, drawing comics and staring at you, he somehow had managed to tell you that for years he had felt the same way for you as you felt for him.

That had been almost two years ago now, although it hardly felt like that long. Soon after that summer the band had gone on tour again, and Gerard was only home a couple of weeks a year. Most of the time you hardly noticed, except for in the evenings, when the stress of the day finally stepped into the background, and you had a few hours to your own thoughts. Those were the moments you missed him. Often he called you after shows, talking for hours until he realised you had to get up in the morning, and sent you to bed with a chuckle and an “I love you”. In those two years, in which you had been together, you had only spent about three months in the same city. The last time you had seen him was over three months ago. And how you missed him!

You glanced over to where the girls sat, that usually had spent their lunchbreaks with you. They were surrounded by their families. One was arm in arm with her boyfriend. You quickly turned to look away. You would see Gerard soon. After this weekend, right on Monday morning, you had booked a flight out to L.A. where MCR would play a show that evening, and then you would accompany them on the rest of the tour. You had been hesitant about that at first, when Gerard had suggested it, but you had never been on tour with them, and you really missed Gerard, and judging by the sound of his voice over the phone, he missed you too.

‘Just two more days,’ you told yourself, and tried to focus back on the dean’s speech.

Luckily the dean did not talk for a long time after that, and when he was finished, your favourite professor jumped on stage to announce that there was a buffet for everyone to have some snacks before sending you off into life.

With a sigh you got up. You felt stiff after all the sitting, as if you had not sat for long enough during your time at university. You made way for some elderly couple who seemed to be the grandparents of one of your fellow classmates, and huffed at the memory of your parents telling you, they would not be in town for your graduation. It felt like you had done these four years of psycho terror for nothing, although Gerard had always told you that you needed to finish this degree or you would have thrown away four years of your life. Maybe he had been right, thinking about quitting two months before the final exam would have probably been something you would later regret. And this way you had at least something that proved you had learnt anything at all.

Once you had made your way out of the maze of chairs, you wondered whether you should join the others by the buffet. Scanning the crowd, you realized that they all seemed to be talking to someone already, and you would have felt like an intruder if you had walked over now. So instead you brushed your hair out of your eyes, and turned around, promptly bumping into someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Quickly excusing yourself, you stepped to the side, but then you saw the face of the person who held the flowers, and almost would have gotten a heart attack. Tears shot into your eyes as you stared at this so familiar face while a smile spread over Gerard’s face at seeing your reaction.

Opening his arms, he allowed you to fall against him, wrapping him in a hug, and burying your face against his neck. Gently he closed his arms around you, not as hard as he would have wanted to, but he tried really hard not to ruin the flowers he was still holding.

“Congratulations, baby,” he whispered against your ear, and you quickly turned your head, and pecked his lips before pulling away, and whipping tears of your cheeks.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in San Francisco,” you almost shouted, playfully shoving him, while you felt tears rise again.

“Couldn’t just miss my girl graduating,” he grinned, “not after all the shit you’ve been through just for this.”

“I fucking love you, you know that,” you sobbed, not caring about the tears anymore. Who cared about make-up anyway?

“I should hope so, otherwise the red roses here would be embarrassing,” he laughed, and handed you the bouquet of sunflowers, daisies and a couple of red roses.

“There you are!”

Before you could thank Gerard, Ray and Mikey pushed through the crowd.

“Gerard just stormed off,” Mikey complained.

Wide eyed you stared at them.

“You’re here too,” you exclaimed, and quickly went to hug Mikey and Ray tightly.

“We’re all here,” Mikey explained, “Frank’s just over there, at the buffet.”

“Where else,” you rolled your eyes, and felt another wave of tears burning in your eyes. “You have no idea how much I love all of you.”

Not knowing what to do with yourself you turned back to Gerard, and hugged him, hiding your face against his chest, making him giggle and wrap his arms around you protectively.

“Oh, we brought chocolates, lemonade and some cake too,” Ray remembered, “but the stuff’s still in the car outside.”

“We didn’t want to burst in here with all the food, in case someone has the idea to ask for some of it,” Mikey explained, making you laugh a little, but you did not move away from Gerard.

“Guys, these tomato bruschetta are excellent,” a familiar voice announced, “Here I brought some. Take them quickly; this old lady is already giving me death glares.”

Laughing you finally pulled away from Gerard, and turned to Frank, who had joined you, balancing several of the tiny breads on one of his hands, holding them out to everyone. Like the others you took one, and waited until Frank’s hand was finally free before hugging him too.

“Thank you for coming here,” you laughed as you let him go again.

“Sure, I mean it’s not like Gee gave us a choice,” Frank shrugged, but his eyes gave away how happy he was to be here, too.

“And by the way, the old lady is one of my former teachers,” you let him know, nodding into the direction of a white haired woman who was watching the five of you closely.

“Ah well, you’re not her student anymore,” Frank grinned.

“You’re right. And that means I also have absolutely no business still being here,” you decided, “Let’s get out of here.”

“But the buffet- ! They have tiramisu,” Frank whined.

“You can do whatever you want, Frankie,” you laughed, “but I’ve been stuck here for long enough. Four years of my life wasted on finishing a degree I never wanted. It’s time I get out.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Gerard agreed and kissed your hair. “Like Ray said, we brought cake and lemonade. We could drive down to the lake and have a picnic there.”

“Aw, a picnic sounds absolutely perfect right now,” you nodded enthusiastically, and allowed Gerard to slip his hand into your free one.

“We’ll make quite a sight, down there between all these teenagers, while we’re all dressed up,” Mikey giggled following Gerard and you, who lead the way through the hall.

Looking over your shoulder you realised he was right. All of the men were wearing either dark jeans or dress pants, and dress shirts. Mikey was even wearing a tie. And you were dressed in an elegant skirt with a cute blouse and a cardigan. You really would stick out between the high schoolers who were doubtlessly hanging out at the lake around this time on a Friday afternoon.

“And after the picnic, I thought the five of us could commemorate the good old times by grabbing pizza over at Giovanni’s,” Gerard continued making plans, causing Frank to cheer quietly at the prospect of getting some tiramisu there.

You turned your head to look at him, and found he was already looking for your reaction.

“What are you trying to do,” you wondered, “Flowers, picknick, pizza,… you don’t need to convince me you’d be a great boyfriend, I already know that.”

“Hey! I just wanna spoil you,” Gerard defended, “We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you’ve just graduated, so I think I should be allowed to spoil you.”

You let go of his hand, and instead wrapped your arm around his back, which caused him to chuckle, and wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

“What about L.A., is that still on,” you wondered, as you stepped from the crowded hall into the emptier hallway that lead to the main entrance of the building.

“Of course it is. We managed to schedule the shows so we got today and the weekend of, but the L.A. show on Monday is still on as planned,” Ray explained from behind you.

“And I still hope you’ll come with us,” Gerard added, looking down to you expectantly.

“Not like we’d give you much of a choice,” Mikey added, before you could even answer.

“He’s right, we can’t have Gerard mopping around because he misses you so much for another two months,” Frank agreed.

“I wasn’t mopping!”

“Yes, you were!”

“Oh, you were!”

“Nooo, not at all!”

All his bandmates spoke at once, making you laugh.

“It really seems like I have no choice, do I,” you giggled, linking your thumb into one of the belt loops on Gerard’s trousers.

“No, you don’t,” Gerard agreed, and nuzzled his nose into your hair.

Pushing open the heavy door to the old building, the five of you stepped out of the university into the warm light of the afternoon sun. Stopping in your tracks you leant your head back a little, and felt how the sunbeams warmed up your face. Taking a deep breath, and closing your fingers around the bouquet Gerard had given you, you opened your eyes again. Realisation washed over you; you were free. For four years you had fought your way through the system, just to please your parents, and now you were free. If these four years had taught you anything, then that you would never be happy if you always did what others expected you to do. You needed to do what you wanted to do. The long term plan? No idea. The intermediate plan? Go on tour with the boys. Actually you could maybe do that as a long term plan, too. But right now? Picnic and pizza with Gerard.

“Everything alright?”

You turned your head and looked into hazel green eyes that worriedly glanced down to you.

“Yeah, yes. Actually. I’m just- I’m happy.”

Gerard smiled and leant down to kiss you quickly before the others called for you.

“Let’s go,” he grinned, and arm in arm you followed your friends to the van.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @angelevansfalls @rene-royale @starduststyx

MCR: @deadlovers

[obsidianfr3sk]

Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 2)

Summary: Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn’t know it yet.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812/chapters/64292134#workskin

A few weeks ago I was having kind of a writer’s block and my mom a friend of mine (cof cof @dawniebb cof cof) recommended me to create a playlist for my fic... and I did. @nodrianbcyes already listened to it and said it ruled so I’m gonna share it with you guys, pls don’t make fun of my music taste (? You can listen to it clicking here. 

Mmmm, what else, what else??? Hope you like it! Reblogs, funny tags, likes and dead threats are always welcome!

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @ohmyskies @blueraspberry-official (tell me if you want in or out, don’t worry)

The stupidest plan 

You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time,

but that's ok, I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine.

I'm driving here I sit, cursing my government,

for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement.

Hugh

He had spent the whole night sketching the battle between Wonder Man and Ace Anarchy. It had been very tedious to be working without proper lighting. For a moment he believed that when morning came, his drawing would not look as good as he thought. However, the morning had come.

And it was perfect.

Although now that he was polishing the last details while waiting for classes to begin, he came across a question that kept him from concentrating.

Simon quietly walked into the classroom, as if he was afraid of bothering someone with his mere presence (although they literally were only ones there). He sat in the first seat in the row to his right. Simon hated sitting upfront because he said it only brought more attention to himself than he wanted to. However, Hugh couldn't sit anywhere else. His glasses weren't the best.

Also, it was strangely depressing to sit on the last row and see that of the forty tables in the room, only fifteen were filled. Twenty if it was a busy day. From the front, it was easier to ignore that more than half of the kids in his class had dropped out of school. 

But Hugh had enough of ignoring things.

“What color are Ace Anarchy’s eyes?” he asked Simon.

“Good morning to you too,” he replied sarcastically.

“Good morning.” He took gray in one hand and blue in the other. “What color are Ace Anarchy's eyes?”

Simon looked carefully at the colors. “I don't know, gray? I feel like they are gray. I can't imagine him having blue eyes.”

Hugh agreed.

“What are you drawing?” Simon asked.

“Propaganda,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

“It looks good.”

“I’m a propaganda expert, indeed.” He grabbed his classroom chair and pushed it to the right next to Simon's. He would return it to its place when the professor entered. “Have you thought about what I told you about yesterday?”

He looked away. “No.”

He shook his head. Simon was lying. “I was being very serious, you know.”

“And I was too. Stop thinking bullshit,” and he smacked him on the back of the neck. “Or do I have to beat those ideas out of you, Wonder Man?”

Hugh hit him back, but in the arm. “Come on. I don’t believe it is bullshit.”

And I don't think you believe that either.

“All right, but you believe many things. You believed in Santa Claus until very recently.” Simon started playing with a ball of crumpled paper that had been lying on the floor for a week. “When you told me ‘Simon, but it has all the logic in the world that Santa exists, he is a prodigy, like us ’ and I was like—"

“A part of me died that tragic day,” he said in a dramatic voice, one hand on his chest. “My childhood…”

“You were eleven years old. It was to save you from bullying. I was protecting you.” The door opened again and they both turned at the same time to see who it was. It was just a group of girls. Good. “It's not like it helped that much though.”

He shrugged.

Neither Simon nor he had been spared from bullying during those years. All the schools in the district were mostly filled with non-prodigies because most of the prodigies were in gangs or hiding in their homes. The few who were still in school did their best not to cause problems and to go unnoticed. They were part of that last group since middle school.

However, the entire school found out about their powers when Simon got so nervous at a presentation that he disappeared in front of his entire class. Hugh tried to intervene but stood up so fast that he tripped over his backpack and hit his nose on the floor. He did not bleed or receive a single scratch. People were quick to connect the dots.

Obviously if one was a prodigy, the other one was too. 

Alter all, freaks stuck together. 

They thought high school was going to be different, but no. On the first day, an older boy caught Simon turning invisible intermittently in the bathroom while having a panic attack. A few hours later, a girl tried to stab Hugh with a pencil and all it did was break it as soon as it made contact with his skin.

“The next time you have a panic attack,” he told Simon on their way home, “tell me.”

“And the next time someone tries to stab you with a pencil, you stab them back.”

When you were a prodigy, it didn't matter if one believed in Santa or not. The mere fact of existing was enough to cause problems.

“At eleven you're still a kid,” Simon kicked him under the bench as he laughed. “Did you ever believe in Santa?”

“No. At my house the one who gave the presents was Baby Jesus,” he replied. “But I didn't believe in him either. How could a baby deliver all those gifts? His hands are too tiny”

Simon gave a light laugh, but Hugh couldn't even smile.

He toyed with the color blue. “Simon, did you ever believe in something?”

Simon bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at the ceiling. He took his sweet time thinking before replying, “I have believed in things.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Like what things?”

“Well... I believed the stories my mom told me before bed,” he replied. “I also believed they were never going to stop producing The Scarlet Enchantress and the Phantom Feline comics—” He gestured for him to come closer— “or that I was going to be a prodigy,” he whispered.

Hugh smiled at him. “The best curse ever.”

“What did you believe in?”

He laid his head on his desk. “I have a whole list.”

Simon covered his head with his hood and pretended to be ready to fall asleep. “The short version of that list, then.”

Hugh imitated him. “I used to believe that adults never grew up. Like, they were born as adults,” Simon laughed and rolled his eyes. “I thought little people were running the television inside of it. I thought my aunt was the most beautiful woman in the world—”

“She is,” Simon replied.

“Simon, stop it. She is my aunt. You have many other girls to choose from.”

“They are not as pretty as your aunt.”

“Simon!”

Simon laughed and the girls shushed him. His friend turned red in the ears as they returned to their conversation like nothing. Hugh wanted to point out how rude they had been.

However, when Simon discreetly smiled at him again, he decided to continue with his list. Those girls were not worthy of his attention. “I also believed in Santa Claus, until someone ruined my hopes and dreams.” Another kick. Simon kicked people too much. “But I also believe in that someone, you know.”

Simon's smile almost disappeared. “Well... that someone doesn't believe in himself.”

I knew it.

He understood his friend. He really did. He knew there were times when Simon would get more nervous than normal in banal situations. Or that he had some days when he didn't want to get out of bed at all. 

Those were the worst.

But despite that, not a single day passed that Simon didn't get up and go to school with him. Even when Hugh had to stop at his house and practically beg him to do it. 

Simon had never left him alone. And Hugh wasn't going to do it now.

He gifted him the widest of his smiles. “Well that someone doesn't have to worry about it. I can believe in him for both of us.”

Simon stared into his eyes for several seconds. He felt like he knew that face as well as he knew his. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am sure,” he replied.

Simon kicked him again.

Hugh felt sparks exploding inside his stomach.

Suddenly, a body slammed into the lockers, and screams filled the school hallway. The trio of girls ran out to see who was involved. Hugh leaned out of the small window in the door. He had always believed he was above that kind of thing, and he was. But it was also the most interesting thing that was going to happen all day.

Simon followed him.

They were a couple of boys from their grade, the same ones who constantly teased them. One with curly blond hair was holding his friend by the collar of his shirt and was yelling an infinity of curse words. The other three in his group, instead of separating them as good friends would do, they had joined the chorus of “Fight! Fight!"

Who knows why they were fighting. They were always fighting someone, but never with each other. They usually grabbed someone smaller than themselves for that, like the prodigy boy that was a grade below them. (They would never physically fight Hugh or Simon, making jokes at their expense was enough for them.) 

Cowards.

Maybe they were just brutally bored.

But there had to be other ways to shake off the boredom.

“I'm going to tell a teacher,” Hugh said.

At that moment, one of the girls ran out of the scene in the direction of the teachers' office. Well, at least now he wouldn't be the one to look like a snitch in front of his entire grade.

“That someone is slightly concerned,” Simon whispered.

“Why?” The blond slammed his friend again, but this time, against the door. “For them?”

“No,” he replied, a little disturbed by the tremendous blow that boy had received. “I am— that someone is... Well, what if the plan you have in your head is stupid?”

At that moment, Hugh realized that he had no plans. That was weird. He always had a plan for everything.

Beating Ace Anarchy should be no exception.

“I suppose we can come up with something. The two of us,” he added.

The fight was broken up by a short-haired teacher. They hurriedly returned their school chairs to their places and the rest of their class entered. Five, six, nine...

Eleven. Only eleven kids had attended that day. And that counting the ones who were fighting a few moments ago. 

“Don't think that someone is just going to blindly follow you,” Simon whispered. “He will tell you when you have a stupid plan.”

“I would be very grateful for that,” he also replied in a whisper. “Although I always have amazing plans, to begin with.”

Simon tried to kick him, but at that moment, the teacher from the first class entered. Hugh chuckled, and in response, Simon discreetly raised his middle finger in his direction.

He knew at that moment that it would not be a stupid plan.

[lavenderek]

i have a thought to express, feel free to scroll past.

i’m gonna discuss rape and sexual abuse in this post. it’s also long because i don’t really have a conclusion, it’s just some thoughts. 

so i was looking into that reality show that facilitated shane dawson’s horrible movie “not cool” and i stumbled across a reddit thread posted by someone who was a fan of his as a preteen. the OP alleged that shane’s content contributed to them developing some serious issues including body dysmorphia and the normalization of sexual behavior involving children. 

some of the comments were in support and agreement, but a large amount of them were like, “where were your parents? it’s not shane’s job to police what you see online. it’s not his fault you were too young for his content.” 

now, shane was well aware from the jump that his fans were mostly kids and teens - he talked about it multiple times - but that’s not what this post is about. this post is about that particular argument, which does not sit well with me.

it reminded me of a couple years ago when i made a very critical post about c*ptive prince. 

pause: i want to make it crystal clear that i am not drawing a comparison between people who like cp and shane dawson. i’m not mad anymore, so i am not making this post making a value judgment on cp or fans of it, positive or negative. 

specifically, i was really bothered by the way cp content was posted and shared with no mention of or reference to the actual material. people were calling it a queer romance. it was a little-known series by a little-known author, so there were no synopses anywhere online, only the summary you’d see on the back of the book. so people would seek out cp thinking it was a romance and be blindsided by the fact that, spoilers, the story is set in a fantasy world where child rape is a major tenet of society. the scenes are explicit, detailed, and many. it’s not a thing that happens once or twice and is a major plot point, it’s a thing that happens multiple times in every chapter and is just kind of a thing that’s going on. if you’ve ever read twilight, i would compare the presence of rape in cp to the presence of rain in twilight.

like, that’s how often it happened, that’s how it was treated. sometimes with indifference, sometimes with a negative opinion, sometimes it caused problems, bella talks about it every two pages. it is a very rapey series. 

and people like, did not want to discuss this. they were like, “the characters decide the rape is bad in the end. and that’s not even what the story is about, it just happens in the story. i don’t know what to tell you.” like... people were not receptive to any kind of conversation about this topic lmfao, it was very touchy. they wanted to acknowledge that rape itself is bad, and then they wanted the subject closed. 

now, why is this a problem? i read the books. there were parts i enjoyed, and there were parts i didn’t enjoy. i’m not gonna reread them, but i’m still game to talk about it. ultimately i wanted to be able to talk about books with a friend of mine, and while i was like, “yikes, this is a lot of rape, was not expecting the volume of rape,” it didn’t occur to me this would be a pervasive issue at all until a different friend of mine happened upon it. this other friend was a rape survivor, and i happened to know she would find this content very upsetting. when she said she was thinking of buying the book, i was like, “halt, you know what happens in it, right?” 

nope! she didn’t. she saw cute fanart and a ficlet on her dash, somebody told her it was a queer romance. nowhere was there any indicator in summaries online or the posts she was seeing that the book would describe a person being drugged and sexually abused. she was pretty relieved that i’d warned her and shaken that that’s what happens in the books lmao. she would never have guessed. the cp fandom was made up of people who loved the main pairing, and they’d talk about them being in love and draw them being in love, and it felt like everybody was just acting like the rape wasn’t even present in the books lmao. 

pause: i didn’t go in the tags. this is not representative of the fandom as a whole. this is just my and my friend’s experience of it as passive internetgoers.

people got uncomfortable and a little defensive if i brought it up. they’d agree to tag for cp, but if you don’t know what cp is about, that isn’t helpful information. like that post that’s like, “waterboarding at guantanamo bay sounds like a lot of fun if you don’t know what either of those things are” lmao. if you don’t know what cp is about, tagging for it just tells you what it’s called. and it very clearly ruined everyone’s fun if i talked about this. 

so that’s what i was mad about, i was mad that i felt as though there was no recourse here, and i was mad because i felt like the cp fandom was the emperor’s new clothes. nobody was acting like it even existed and everybody got uncomfortable if i brought it up, like, i legitimately wondered at some point if i had somehow accidentally read a kinky rewrite of it, that the real version did not have rape in it and nobody knew what i was talking about. i felt like i was going crazy and i got shitty in the middle of the night one time, and wrote that post. 

i ultimately deleted it, so i do not remember how it was worded; but i do recall that it was a venting post, it was not intended to reach a wider audience. i was not trying to convince anyone in that moment, i was just talking shit. so i can bet that it probably came across as very judgmental and unkind. 

i made a bunch of people very angry with that post. somebody got thousands of notes by reblogging with an impassioned smackdown saying basically what those redditors were saying about shane - it’s not their job to police what people see online. it’s not their fault you were unprepared for cp. 

i do not think this is a nuanced enough argument because i do not think it acknowledges that not all content is created equal. 

i even got an anon ask in good faith saying, well, a huge trigger for me is body horror, and people will draw or reblog stuff with body horror in it, and i can’t hold that against them. 

and like, no, you can’t, but body horror is not the same as rape or child sexual abuse. body horror isn’t the same as sex trafficking. right? like those things aren’t comparable in the way that i think the anon was wanting them to be. they were saying that both of these are common triggers that people would want tagged and be unable to move past in media, you know? and i get that, i got what they were saying. 

kind of like that cartoonist who wrote a spooky horror comic a while ago and somebody sent them an ask being like, “that was really scary, you usually post fun comics, this was damaging, unfollowed :/” like obviously a stranger’s fear of spooky things is not something he should be expected to take on on his own blog lmao. i am deeply afraid of ghosts, by the way. 

but according to rainn.org, 1 in 5 women experience rape in their lifetime. 1 in 5 women are not frightened by literal ghosts in their lifetime. 1 in 3 girls and 1 in 7 boys aren’t body horrored. body horror and ghosts aren’t used on a global scale as tools to control and abuse people and they do not have the same connotations of shame, degradation, and control. the things are not the same. 

i don’t have an easy answer. i can’t wave my magic wand and make people not enjoy the rape erotica, nor was that my goal in the first place. i wasn’t clutching my pearls like, “how dare you! do not draw this art! think of the children!” and i don’t know how else i would have solved the problem, aside from having a weird disclaimer under your art of two dudes cuddling that says “warning, these dudes are from a book that’s got several thousand words of explicit rape in it, and i know that, you’re not the only one seeing that,” like that’s a lot and i get it. 

i don’t have an easy answer because there isn’t one. i felt like “well, that’s not my problem” was an easy answer. 

as i get older, the more responsibility i have as an adult online to maintain boundaries between me and minors, for example. i am not responsible for their internet experience and they can’t get mad at me for cussing or writing about gay werewolves on my blog, but i do have to be mindful of that context if i’m interacting with someone online. that’s where the complexity comes in. you can’t wash your hands of the context of the things you say and do online. 

just how to solve these problems, i did not know then and i do not know now. i guess we take it on a case by case basis. 

if you’re curious about shane dawson and his horrible movie, by the way, this guy did a few funny videos about the horrible movie and this guy did a not funny but comprehensive breakdown of shane and his career. 

and i tried to tint my eyebrows for the first time the other day, i have red hair and my eyebrows are darker than my hair for some reason, so i tried to use an eyebrow tint to lift my brows just like, a shade, so be closer to my hair? but in doing this i discovered that my eyebrows are a mixture of red and brown? 

so the red hairs lifted to a sunny orange, and the brown hairs stayed brown. so my eyebrows are fully like, calico right now. boom, orange juice, that’s life

[arthurmorgan-s-heart]

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader: Kingdom Come

Summary: Arthur asks you for your opinion on having more children. Actions speak louder than words.

Warning: Smut

Your life had never been easy.

It hadn't been easy as an orphan on the streets, or as a petty thief in the city. It hadn't been easy as part of the Van der Linde gang, and it wasn't easy now; and yet, you wouldn't trade it for anything. Lord knows how much pain there had been, how much sorrow, how much grief, before you'd finally found your place.

It's in moments like these, as you rest your head against Arthur's shoulder and watch him work on his journal, with your daughter, Hope, asleep in your lap, that you know you've found it, and that you never want to leave.

You feel Arthur shift as he turns his head to look at you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Time for bed?" He asks quietly against your skin, and you nod.

"I think so," you answer, sitting up as you watch him flip his journal closed and stand up, stretching with a groan before he turns to you, bending over you as his hand comes up to nudge your chin up, just enough to allow him to kiss your lips lightly and gently gather Hope into his arms. She opens her eyes as he lays her against his chest, hooking one arm around his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Can I have a story, Papa?" She asks, still half-asleep.

"'Course, Sweet Pea," he answers, giving you a smile before he turns away to go and get her to bed. You watch them until they disappear into her room down the hallway before you stand as well, smothering a yawn as you pick up a few toys Hope had left on the floor. You cross into the kitchen, making sure every lantern is put out, before making your way to your own bedroom.

"What story you wanna hear tonight, Honey?" You hear Arthur ask as you walk down the hallway.

"When you tried to ride Uncle Dutch's horse!" Hope cries excitedly, and he gives a loud, comical groan. The door to her room is ajar, and you can't help but stop and peek inside. She's already in her nightgown, tucked under the covers, with Arthur laying on the bed next to her, shaking his head with a smile.

"How come you always wanna hear the embarassin' stories, hm?" He asks with an exaggerated pout, and Hope giggles, burying her face in her pillow. "Fine, fine. I musta been around seventeen, and I thought I knew everythin'..."

Watching them like this warms your heart, and you smile to yourself as you quietly step back, continuing on to you and Arthur's room at the end of the hallway. He had been so afraid to be a father again, after Isaac - not without good reason, you know that. So afraid to fail again, to suffer again, to be alone again. And now, years down the line, though you sometimes catch a glimpse of the old fear in his eyes, you know he would go through everything thrice over if it meant ending up here again.

Your room is dark and cold, the fire you'd started in the hearth a few hours earlier having burned down to embers. You stoke it back to life, heaving a satisfied sigh as warmth sweeps over the room when the flames come alive again. You hum absentmindedly to yourself as you take off your boots before bringing your hands up to unbutton your blouse. Your fingers make quick work of the buttons, and you pull off your top before starting on your skirt. You're down to your drawers by the time Arthur comes into the room, and you hear him hum appreciatively at the sight of you as he closes the door behind him. You laugh, taking off your underwear before slipping on your nightgown and turning to face him.

"You seen me like this a thousand times already," you say lightly, and he chuckles before closing the distance between you with a few strides, drawing you against him with a hand on your waist.

"And it’s still the most beautiful thing I ever seen," he replies, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek before he leans down to kiss your neck, feather-light kisses that tickle more than anything, and you push away from him with a laugh, giving him a look that you hope is reproachful - though you're sure your smile gives you away. He chuckles quietly and grins in return.

"She's asleep, then?" You ask as you go sit on the bed, watching him kick off his boots.

"Was when I left," he answers as he untucks his shirt and starts working at the buttons. His fingers still for a moment, and he opens his mouth as if about to say something, but seems to think better of it, shaking his head to himself as his eyes shift down to look at what he's doing. You frown at this, standing from the bed and stepping closer. He looks almost… nervous?

"Everythin' alright, Arthur?" You ask, and he seems almost startled by your voice, his head snapping up to meet your eyes. 

"Sure," he answers with half a smile, and you arch an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. He sighs and looks away, hands falling to his sides as his shirt hangs open, half undone. You stay silent, not wanting to rush him, simply reaching forward to undo the last few buttons as you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"You ever think about…" he starts, and you raise your head to meet his eyes, though he's still not looking at you. He takes a deep breath, seemingly gathering his courage. “About havin'... More kids?"

The question takes you by surprise, and you open your mouth to speak, but you can't will a single word from your throat, only staring at him with wide eyes as he turns his head to look at you. You had thought to ask him the same, many times, but the moment had never seemed right, and you had been so sure that the answer would be 'no' - and now...

"Arthur, I - " you finally manage after a few moments, though the next few words stick in your throat, stumbling over each other as they fight to get out.

"It's alright if you don't wanna," he says quickly, taking your hands in both of his. "I just… been thinkin' about it a while, and I thought I should…" he sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "Just wanted to ask, is all."

You squeeze his fingers gently, bringing his gaze back down to you, and you free one of your hands to cradle his cheek as you lean up to kiss him, softly, tenderly, pressing yourself against him as you give him your answer.

"Yes," you whisper against his lips, and he leans away in surprise, looking at you in disbelief for a moment before he smiles and kisses you again, more forcefully, his hand finding the back of your head as he laughs against your mouth. He pulls away suddenly, meeting your eyes as his hand slides down to rest against the nape of your neck, the other still holding yours.

“You wanna take some time to think about it?” He whispers. “I don’t want you to -  “

You silence him with a kiss, your thumb brushing over his lips and tracing the slight curve of his smile when you part.

“I been thinkin’ about it too,” you say quietly. “And I thought you’d never ask.”

The relief and joy you see in his eyes is almost as sweet as the kiss he gives you then, his arms wrapping around you as he presses you to him. Thank you, thank you, he says without words, laughing in between kisses. Thank you.

You press an open palm to his bare chest, lingering there for a moment before slipping lower, over his ribs and down to his waist before you hook two fingers under the waist of his pants, and he parts from you then, pulling away just enough so that he can meet your gaze - there is a gleam in his eyes and a teasing smile on his lips, and you answer with one of your own as you pull at his clothes.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” he asks, sucking in a breath when your free hand comes to toy at his belt buckle, teasing the skin just above with light touches.

“Never too early to get started,” you whisper, and he chuckles at that, shifting his hands to your hips and kissing your neck as he bunches the fabric of your nightgown in his grasp.

“Ain't you eager," he breathes as he trails his lips down from your jaw to your shoulder, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you flush against him so that you can feel his hardness against your thigh. You move your thigh slightly, just enough to create a bit of friction, earning yourself a quiet groan as he rolls his hips against you, seeking more. He brings his lips back up to your mouth for a kiss as your hands both grab at his belt, pulling him with you toward the bed and letting go as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. He takes a long moment to look at you - flushed skin, tousled hair, nightgown pushed halfway up your thighs - before he bends over you, putting one knee up on the bed between your legs as he kisses you long and slow. He holds himself up with one hand next to your head while the other smooths over your thigh, ever higher, slipping under your nightgown and pushing it up, slowly revealing you to him - your hips, your stomach, your breasts, every inch of uncovered skin worthy of worship. His mouth leaves your lips to trail over your cheek, to your neck and then your collarbone, between your breasts and down your stomach.

"Arthur…" you whisper as you feel his breath fan over your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider in a wordless invitation. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your knee before he stands, shrugging off his shirt and letting it fall on the floor before he moves on to his belt and pants. You sit up as well, taking off your nightgown and throwing it somewhere behind you before you lay down again, propping yourself up on one elbow as you watch him take off the last of his clothes. He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes sweeping over you, hands frozen in their motion to push his pants and underwear down his legs. You give him a sly smile when he finally meets your gaze, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Like what you see?" You whisper, and he chuckles quietly, ridding himself of his pants before he climbs back on the bed to join you, his hand starting a path from your thigh, over your hip, and down the dip of your waist as he lays down next to you.

"You know I do," he breathes before leaning in for a heated kiss, his hand sliding down to your hip and then lower, squeezing slightly. You bring one leg over his hips as your hand finds his shoulder, pressing lightly, and he resists for half a heartbeat before he parts from you, allowing you to push him onto his back, earning yourself an appreciative groan as you move to straddle him. you feel him beneath you, pressing against your core, warm and hard and insistent, and you lightly grind yourself against him, smiling at the stifled moan that escapes him as his hands shoot up to grab at your thighs, guiding you in your motion as his eyes slip closed.

They open again when you lift yourself off him, his hips bucking upwards to follow you before you reach down to take him in your hand, the other splaying over his chest as you stroke him slowly.

“Darlin’...” his voice is low, his tone bordering on pleading. you smile sweetly, slowly lowering yourself until the tip of him is pressed against you, and you know he’s trying so hard to keep himself still, to resist the urge to simply lift his hips to get what he wants.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman,” he grunts between clenched teeth, and you laugh gently as you finally relent and let yourself sink down on him, slowly, slowly, moaning at the familiar feeling of him inside you.

“Good Lord…” he breathes, shifting his grip from your thighs to your hips as you start to rock against him, and you lean forward until you can kiss him, both of your hands finding his shoulders as you move slowly, languidly. He groans into your mouth, rolling his hips in time with your movements, his hands pulling you as tights against him as he possibly can.

“How’d I ever end up with you?” he whispers against your lips between kisses, and you smile, pushing yourself upright and meeting his gaze - you see wonder and adoration and love in his eyes, and gratitude as well, for giving him all this. For giving him everything that he’d ever dreamed of without realising it.

“You’re stuck with me now,” you say, smoothing your hands down his chest until they're both resting on his stomach. “For a while, at least.”

He sits up suddenly, twisting his hips to make you fall on your back, and you give a startled laugh as he comes to hold himself over you, spreading your legs to allow him to kneel between them.

“I can live with that,” he says with a smile before bending down to kiss you, his hand reaching down to guide himself back inside you. He sets a slow, deep rhythm, his lips tracing a path over your jaw, down your neck and ending at your collarbone, kissing and whispering half understood words of praise and love as his hand finds your center, touching you in just the way he knows will make you come apart. you reach up with one hand to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, the other pressing at the small of his back, urging him on. You moan and whimper as you feel yourself slowly start to unravel, throwing your head back, the offering of your throat too good to resist as he kisses and nips at the delicate skin, himself nearing his end, his thrusts coming harder and quicker as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. You feel him shudder against you, quaking breaths fanning over your skin as he spends himself inside you, and you follow quietly as he rolls his hips against you a few more times, muffling your moan against the skin of his neck as your legs tighten around him, pleasure rolling over you in waves, coming and going and coming again. A few moments pass by where neither of you move, both trying to catch your breath, pressing long kisses against warm skin, until finally he pulls away slightly, cupping your cheek with one hand as he meets your eyes.

"Marry me," he breathes, and your eyes widen in surprise, speechless for a few heartbeats before you lean up to kiss him, feeling him smile against your mouth. 

"What brought this on?" You ask as you part. He chuckles, moving off you and laying down next to you, one hand lingering on your stomach.

"Thought I should make an honest woman outta you after all these years," he replies teasingly, and you laugh, kissing him again, pressing yourself against him as close as you can before you whisper your answer, though he already knows it.

"Yes, I will."

I know what you’re thinking: “Unrealistic - child did not interrupt and went to sleep in 5 minutes.” Well, it’s fanfic, I do what I want. (Also the ending is sappy as all Hell but sue me I want him to be happy  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

[neon-ufo]

Answering some OC asks

cool-human-98 said:

Since there's not much info about Ness, I'm really interested in what he's like. What do you have on him so far? Of course I'm asking about things that are not spoilers

Ness is 17, which makes him the youngest character in the entire story, and he acts like it too. He’s very careless, loud and free-spirited, with a good sense of what’s right and wrong.

He absolutely doesn’t know when it’s not the right time to have a big mouth and can get himself in trouble by talking too much, or not following directions.

He’s very eager to meet new people, because he didn’t have many chances to do so in the past due to reasons I don’t want to disclose yet.

He makes very quick judgements and will often make a decision in the spur of a moment, not really thinking about the consequences of it. He’s very much led by his heart more than his brain.

He loves comics and power metal, and I think the fact that Gloryhammer is his favourite band says quite a bit about him.

My friend once said he's a personification of the Ultra Pink Monster Energy drink and that’s a pretty good summary of him (thought I’d say he’s more of the Pipeline Punch flavour).

behold-a-bastard-in-this-house said:

Are there any details on Ciril's curse, maybe? As in, how he gained it and when? Thank you much!

Without spoiling too much of the core conflict of the story, Ciril’s curse was basically caused by him being too curious and going to places he shouldn’t have gone to. I am not fully set on the timeline of how long ago he’s been cursed, because it has to be lined up with events regarding some other characters (Mario and Ren), and I haven’t really sat down and properly match it up yet, but he’s been cursed for a couple of years at this point.

The curse slowly saps his energy, making him physically extremely weak; there are times when he can’t even get out of bed, and some days he can only move around with a wheelchair. He’s only 32 years old but looks much older.

While the process of the curse is slow, living with it at this point is terrible, as he’s not just weak, but he also can’t taste food, he’s constantly cold, his overall feelings feel very numb. It’s clearly out to kill him, and he has no idea how to lift it. Because death is his biggest fear, and he feels like he’s running out of time, he’s very desperate to save himself by any means necessary.

Anonymous said:

Does Vivid have a favorite meme?

Dabbing & Minecraft, no questions about it.

blacksheep28 said:

What's Vivid's big dream in life?

He’s not really a person with any big plans for the future, he keeps his options open! One thing he definitely wants is to make things that bring joy to people.

In the current time, he’s an actor in a community theater. Sometimes he plays guitar and sings on the streets and then gives his earnings to those in need, since he loves to perform, but he doesn’t really need any additional income, so he just does what he can to bring some overall good vibes to his community. If any bars have an open stage, you know he’s there. 

He can play a guitar and piano, however he doesn’t want an actual career as a musician, or an actor, as he’d find that restricting. Basically, he’s just vibin’

bayygel said:

Who is most likely to cry when surprise punched in the face? Who is least likely to cry? I hope this question is up to your standards, Jim :) because I for one am very curious!

Vivid is a HUGE weenie when it comes to pain, his pain tolerance is non-existent. He will cower at any threat of pain, despite being pretty muscular and big. Being an actor, he’s able to put up an intimidating charade if necessary, but if his bluff is called he immediately retreats to avoid any further confrontation.

As for least likely.. About half the characters are pretty damn tough. Mario and Barbi would be hard to push to crying through pain (Barbi would cry from frustration sooner than from pain), and Ren is stone-cold. However, Otto is a clear ‘winner’ here, as life got him to a point where he’s too jaded to really care about much anymore, and that includes pain (which he has an extremely high tolerance for, he could probably lose a limb and not care)

Anonymous said:

I don't have a particular question but I'd love to hear more about ren! i guess if you need something more specific then maybe something about her sibling kind of relationship with mario?

Mario and Ren started off on pretty rough terms which caused her to be wary of him for a while. On the other side, Mario felt extremely bad about it and did everything he could to make her realize she’s safe and can trust him. Eventually, she came around and they’ve been really close ever since; he was the first person she ever felt calm with and he helped her a lot when it came to basically learning how to socialize, despite him being a total extrovert and her a total introvert.

Mario is an only child who always wanted a younger sibling, so meeting Ren filled that void for him and he protects and spoils her like a little sister, he’s willing to listen to her talk about her interests even if he doesn’t get it, he takes her out shopping, plays basketball with her, etc. 

Ren is very aware of this and deeply appreciates Mario for it. He’s constantly supportive of her, and while Ren is the kind of inexpressive and quiet person that might come across ungrateful to an outsider, Mario knows better than that and knows that this means a lot to her.

Anonymous said:

On a scale of 1 to 10, how huggable are each of your characters?

Ciril: Not huggable - bony and thin, will greatly oppose to hugs. Em: Somewhat huggable - might oppose at first, but it’s very possible for his motherly instincts to kick in and a gentle hug will be returned. Mario: Huggable - but your bones will be crushed Otto: Possibly huggable? Might not know what’s going on. Alternatively, he might think you’re upset and try to awkwardly pat your back. Ren: Not huggable, will flinch. Barbi: Only huggable for friends, otherwise she will headbutt you in the face Vivid: Extremely huggable. Possibly the most huggable. Will always hug back. King: Not huggable. Will not like it. Ness: Huggable. Will be happy to receive a hug and might spin you around.

Anonymous said:

Did Jojo inspire your characters designs? If so, are there any specific characters who inspired the designs? And on the topic of design, who is your favorite and why?

Araki’s work influenced me in general, not just when it comes to character designs, it basically changed how I look at art altogether. A lot of the characters are directly inspired by stylistic choices, rather than specific characters;

- Crop tops. - While Em was not inspired by Kakyoin directly, he was inspired by how I decided to stylize Kakyoin when I drew him. - Barbi’s hair is inspired by Araki’s rigid style of drawing hair which I love a lot - King’s hair was inspired by Diavolo’s hair, because I interpreted Diavolo’s hair as having a leopard pattern, and that gave me idea for King’s zebra pattern - Similar as with Em, this isn’t a DIRECT inspiration from JoJo, but the way I draw Mario is slightly based on the way I stylized DIO - Ciril’s two-tone hair was inspired by my initial interpretation of Abbacchio’s headband being differently coloured hair on top of his head. - Ren’s pitch black no-shine eyes were inspired by Mista, and her spiky hair is a mixture of Narancia and that 2000s scene style where everyone gelled the hair at the back of their head - The ‘holes’ between the strands of Ness’ hair were inspired by how Reimi’s hair was drawn, I thought that was really cool.

As for my favourite, I’m fond of all of them since I worked on streamlining their designs a lot, but if I had to pick, I think King is generally the one I like drawing the most for some reason. I’m very happy with how Inverness turned out too, and Em being kind of a fashionista is fun to design outfits for.

Anonymous said:

Do any of your OCs watch anime? If so what type?

Ren is a bonafide weeb. Kuroshitsuji is her favourite anime because she loves Sebastian. Her favourite genres are supernatural mystery anime and slice-of-life anime. She prefers older shows and doesn’t really dig the hype of the seasonal shows, though she will occasionally check them out. She generally doesn’t like the Shounen genre. She likes Dragon Maid too, Fafnir being her favourite (as you can see she has a type). She uses Picrew to make her avatars.

Anonymous said:

Who of your OCs is the least athletic? Who's the most athletic?

Due to his current predicament, Ciril is by far the least athletic one, as sometimes he can barely walk. Before the curse, however, he was a traveller, meaning he was in a pretty good condition.

If we don’t count Ciril due to his curse, then Em would be the least athletic one. He’s slim and elegant and makes sure to stay that way, but any work out he does isn’t really preparing him for any serious conditions, he’ll be the first to lose breath if everyone ran a race (not counting Ciril who, frankly, can’t run.)

On the other side, Otto doesn’t look like it and doesn’t live like it, but he’s pretty much peak condition among my characters. He actively works out as a way to cope with the mess that is his life and had military training in the past.

(Mario is also a good competitor for this, being a fitness bro, but he doesn’t have nearly as much experience as Otto, and despite their difference in size, Otto could absolutely take him down.)

Anonymous said:

ideas on how any of your original characters would deal with self isolation/quarantine?