#watching him lie to her afterward was devastating at least for me

[coochiequeens]

In text messages to friends, Johnny Depp fantasized about murdering his then-wife, the actress Amber Heard. “I will fuck her burnt corpse afterwards to make sure she’s dead,” Depp wrote. In other texts, he disparaged his wife’s body in luridly misogynist terms. “Mushy pointless dangling overused floppy fish market,” he called her.

The texts became public as part of Depp’s defamation suit against Heard, now at trial in a Virginia court. Ostensibly, Depp is suing over a 2018 articlethat Heard published in the Washington Post, titled “I spoke up against sexual violence – and faced our culture’s wrath.” In the piece, the actress writes, “Two years ago, I became a public figure representing domestic abuse.” The article does not mention Depp, but his lawyers say that the piece was about him – and was defamatory. For those 11 words, Depp is seeking $50m.

A jury thought he deserved it. On Wednesday, the case’s verdict came in, finding that Heard defamed Depp, acting with “malice,” when she described herself as a victim of domestic abuse. Bizarrely, the same jury found that one of Depp’s lawyer’s defamed Heard when he said that her account of abuse was “a hoax.” The verdict came after a trial that was televized – an extremely rare situation for a proceeding that concerns allegations of domestic violence – and which was subject to almost inescapable media coverage, nearly all of it in favor of one litigant, even as the jury was not sequestered. The strange, illogical, and unjust ruling has the effect of sanctioning Depp’s alleged abuse of Heard, and of punishing Heard for speaking about it. It will have a devastating effect on survivors, who will be silenced, now, with the knowledge that they cannot speak about their violent experiences at men’s hands without the threat of a ruinous libel suit. In that sense, women’s speech just became a lot less free. 

Over the past six weeks, as the trial was live-streamed online, many of those who have tuned in to watch have treated Heard with the same contempt that Depp did in his texts. A broad consensus has emerged online that Heard must be lying about her abuse. She has been accused of faking the photos of her injuries from Depp’s alleged beatings, painting bruises on with makeup. She’s been accused of convincing the multiple witnesses who say Depp abused her to lie – repeatedly and under oath – for years. These conspiracy theories are unsupported by the facts of the case, but that has not stopped them from spreading. Online, the case has taken on a heady mythology, and belief in Depp’s righteousness persists independent of the evidence.

In the service of this myth, any cruelty can be justified. When Heard took the stand, she became emotional as she recounted how Depp allegedly hit her, manipulated and controlled her, surveilled her and sexually assaulted her. Afterwards, ordinary people, along with a few celebrities and even brands like Duolingo and Milani, took to social media to mock or undermine Heard. They took screenshots of her weeping face and made it a meme. Many performed mocking re-enactments of her testimony, lip-syncing along as she recounted the alleged abuse. The audio of her crying became a TikTok trend. This cruelty has now been joined in and compounded by the jury, who have gone beyond mocking her for telling her story, and now declared that she actually broke the law by doing so. 

This is not the first time Depp has sued over the allegations. In 2020, a British court heard Depp’s lawsuit against the British tabloid the Sun, which Depp sued for defamation after an article referred to him as a “wife beater”. UK courts are much more amenable to defamation claims than American ones, but Depp still couldn’t prevail: the British judge found that the Sun’s characterization of Depp was “substantially true”. That same trial found that Depp physically abused Heard on at least 12 occasions. Yet the actor and his fans claim that it was Heard, not Depp, who was the abuser in their marriage.

The trial has turned into a public orgy of misogyny. While most of the vitriol is nominally directed at Heard, it is hard to shake the feeling that really, it is directed at all women – and in particular, at those of us who spoke out about gendered abuse and sexual violence during the height of the #MeToo movement. We are in a moment of virulent antifeminist backlash, and the modest gains that were made in that era are being retracted with a gleeful display of victim-blaming at a massive scale. One woman has been made into a symbol of a movement that many view with fear and hatred, and she’s being punished for that movement. In this way, Heard is still in an abusive relationship. But now, it’s not just with Depp, but with the whole country.

Since she published her Post piece, Heard’s life has been consumed by the rage and retaliation of Depp and his fans. Lost in the scandal and spectacle of the lawsuit has been this reality: it is Heard, not Depp, who has been put on trial, and she is on trial for saying things whose truth is evidenced by the very fact of the lawsuit itself. Depp’s frivolous and punitive suit, and the frenzy of misogynist contempt for Heard that has accompanied it, have done a great deal to vindicate Heard’s original point: that women are punished for coming forward. What happens to women who allege abuse? They get publicly pilloried, professionally blacklisted, socially ostracized, mocked endlessly on social media and sued. Wrath, indeed.

But mainstream coverage of the trial has not seemed to grasp this. Instead, there’s been tremendous focus on Heard’s mistakes and worst moments over the course of her relationship with Depp. As is typical of domestic abuse victims, Heard does seem to have done things many of us would not be proud of. She fought back. Depp’s outbursts and insults left Heard resentful and angry with him, and sometimes, she told him so. Many are quick to point out that Heard is not a perfect victim. We are told that the lawsuit is “complicated”. But no woman is. We are told that the lawsuit is “complicated.” But the lawsuit is not complicated. It is abuse. Now, that abuse has been sanctioned by a jury. 

Maybe the persistence of this notion that Heard is somehow equally culpable for what happened to her is why people like the New York Times’ Michelle Goldberg have characterized the trial as “the death of Me Too”: it shows how easily a victim can still be blamed and isolated, how easily what happened to her can be taken as a failure of her personal character, rather than as part of a social pattern. Not all women are alike, but feminism was supposed to let us see how we are all similarly vulnerable – both to gendered abuse and to the gendered application of double standards and unjust blame. No victim is perfect. No victim should have to be. After all, if a man cannot be considered abusive towards an imperfect woman, then just how perfect does a woman need to be before it becomes wrong to beat her?

For their part, Depp’s fans seem to not so much deny Depp’s alleged violence against Heard, but to approve of it. “He could have killed you,” says one viral Tiktok supporting Depp, the text superimposed over photos of Heard’s bruised face. “He had every right.” The post has more than 222,200 likes.

The backlash to #Me Too has long been under way. Critics of the movement painted women’s efforts to end sexual violence as excessive and intemperate from the start, claiming #MeToo had “gone too far” before it really got under way at all. And yet the Heard trial does feel like a tipping point in our culture’s response to gender violence. The forces of misogynist reaction are perhaps even stronger now for having been temporarily repressed. Where once women refused, en masse, to keep men’s secrets, or to remain silent about the truth of their own lives, now, a resurgence of sexism, virulent online harassment, and the threat of lawsuits, all aim to compel women back into silence – by force.

In some ways, one could see the defamation suit itself as an extension of Depp’s abuse of Heard, a way to prolong his humiliation and control over her. The only difference is that now, the legal system and the public have been conscripted to take part. This seems to be at least partly how Depp sees it. In 2016, as their marriage broke apart, Depp texted his friend Christian Carino, vowing revenge against Heard. “She is begging for global humiliation,” Depp wrote. “She is going to get it.”

Moira Donegan is a Guardian US columnist

[futuremrsreid]

Baby Steps

Request: @gubswh0re requested: "hi! could you do 20,25 & 48 from the promt list all in one? would be amazing, thank you!!"

Summary: A case gone wrong and Spencer blames himself. Reader tries to make him feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid x reader

Category: hurt/comfort, angst, a bit of fluff if you never felt happiness before

CW: sad as fuck uhm I lowkey broke my own heart but its also really sweet

Word Count: 1,9k

If I had to describe Spencer Reid handling his emotions in two words, they would be “quiet suffering”. In the two years I have known him he only opened up a handful of times. Not in the sense of him never talking about his past or things that happened to him, but whenever he talked about these things, he tells them like one of his facts. He tells you that his mother has schizophrenia, but he doesn't tell you how he feels about it. It always reminds me of a medical anamnesis.

On rare occasions, he would break. Everything became too much, even for him. I remember the first time I witnessed it very clearly. It was after he visited his mom for a few days and, from what he told me, she was in such a bad condition that she didn’t even recognize him. He was devastated and when he was on his way back he drove straight to my apartment, not knowing how to deal with everything. Spencer didn’t call or text before he arrived there and saying I was surprised when I opened my door doesn't even come close. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Truth be told, I was very overwhelmed so I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled him inside and hugged him as hard as humanly possible. 

In the office everyone always jokes about Dr Reid and his fear of human touch, but he hugged me back so hard that breathing became just a little difficult, and in that moment I realized the reason he doesn’t hug people isn’t because of his fear of bacteria. It’s because of the closeness of it. My heart cracked then.

The next discovery I made was that Spencer is a quiet cryer. I didn’t even notice it until his tears started seeping through my shirt and I could feel the wetness. I don’t know how long we stood there, but when I could feel him calming down a bit, I pulled away just enough to be able to look at him. He was extremely embarrassed and started to pull away completely to cover his face with his hands, but I’m too stubborn for that, so I grabbed his wrists and made him look at me. He started crying again then. 

It took an hour until he started telling me what got him so upset and after that we talked the whole night, about his mother, her sickness and everything related to it. I always hoped that he would open up about it eventually, but when he finally did, I couldn’t handle it very well. I tried not to cry myself, but that is hard when the person you love most breaks down in front of you like that. 

That night I held him close, let him lie on my chest, played with his hair - everything to try and make his pain go away. And after that day I thought things would have changed, that he would stop hiding and open up more to me,  but I was very wrong. When he woke up the next morning he apologized about a hundred times and no words or reassurance made him less ashamed. Afterwards he tried to act like nothing had ever happened.

So in conclusion: I had done a lot of difficult tasks in my life, but getting Spencer Reid to talk about his feelings was by far the most difficult. Nonetheless, today was one of those rare days.

We just came back from a really shitty case that resulted in more victims than it should have due to the police department holding back evidence. It was messy and frustrating and exhausting. Spencer was there when one of the victims was shot and he blamed himself for not preventing it, even though we all told them that there was no chance that he could have done it.

And as if the case itself wasn't bad enough, we were stuck for more time back in the office to do the paperwork. When the clock turned 8 pm Hotch came out of his office to tell us to go home. We all sighed in relief and started packing up our things. All of us except a particular dr. He was still sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer. I watched him for a while, contemplating what to do, and after everyone said their goodbyes, I walked over to him.

“Come on. I’ll take you home”, I said, leaning on his desk trying to catch his eyes with mine. No luck.

“I still have work to do, I’ll take the subway home later.” He continued typing like i wasn’t even there and I got frustrated. The case was already bad enough and I would not stand here watching him torture himself.

“That wasn’t a request, Spencer.” I didn’t intend to sound so harsh but hey, at least it made him look at me. “We are gonna leave. Now.” He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again, he knew better than to argue with me. My eyes said it all: If he would stay, I would stay. And since Spencer Reid cares about everyone but himself, he closed his computer and packed up his things.

The walk to my car was quiet, and so were the first 5 minutes of driving. I kept glancing at him from the driver's seat, but he was looking out of the window, lost in thought. The guy on the radio made a stupid comment and normally he would have immidiatly complained, but it seemed like he didn’t even hear it. His brain is a beautiful place with a million facts and ideas, yet I can imagine how scary it can be as well. When Spencer gets really lost in his thoughts he begins to spiral and I can just guess that that is what happened at that moment. Only then I came to the conclusion that he wanted to stay and work because that would distract him from anything going on inside. 

“Talk to me, Spence.” My tone was pleading, practically begging at this point.

“I’m fine, y/n.” I sighed. I was thinking about just letting it go, but then I thought about him alone in his apartment, stuck in this beautiful scary brain of his. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. I took a deep breath. If you're lost, stick to what you know.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”, he turned to me with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Do you trust me?”, I asked again, looking him in the eyes this time.

“Of course I trust you. Why are you even asking me this?”

“We’re making a detour. I’m gonna show you something.” My words didn’t leave room for questions so we just fell silent again. He continued to watch me with a questioning look, but i tried to ignore him. I was too focused on taking the right turns anyway. It was hard to find my way in the dark, but 5 minutes later we were there. I got out of the car and waited for Spencer to do the same and after he did, he seemed more confused than ever. I walked over to the familiar building and fished for a key at the same moment. 

“What is this place?”

“It’s an art gallery. My mom used to work here.” I found what I was looking for and started to unlock the door.

“And you just have a key to this place?” If the circumstances were different, I would have laughed at his confusion, however, the circumstances weren’t different.

“Yep.” The door opened and I looked for the light switch. “Come on, just follow me.” 

I led us up the 5 flights of stairs and then, after 2 more doors we were finally there. The place that has been the only place I called home for the years before I joined the team.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? We’re not breaking in right now, are we?” At this I did laugh. I stepped further onto the rooftop. 

“Relax Spence, we are not breaking any laws.” He was still hesitant so I took his hand and pulled him to the edge. The railing was high, meaning there was no danger of falling down. I let go of his hand and leaned on it. The building was on a small hill and since it had a few stories, you were able to look over a big part of the city. It was always a beautiful view, but that night was extra special. It was a Friday in the late summer, which didn’t only mean the sky was clear, there were also a lot of traffic lights and buildings that shone bright. 

I just watched and after a few minutes Spencer stood beside me and did the same. Some time passed before I broke the silence.

“How many people are living in the US?” He didn’t hesitate before answering. It was like a reflex for him by now. I liked to ask random questions all the time and to this day, he always had an answer.

“331.002.651 people.” I paused for a few seconds.

“You can’t protect all of them, Spencer.”

“Y/n I-”

“I mean it, Spence. It is humanly impossible to protect everyone. You can protect some of them, maybe even a lot, but you won’t ever be able to do that if you keep beating yourself up over incidents like today.” He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. “I know how you feel and I know it’s not easy. There was no chance for you to save that girl, Spencer. Zero. And if you can’t accept that, you will lose yourself. And then you won’t be able to save anyone anymore.” I know it was harsh, however, sometimes that's the only language he understands.

“You could have said all of that in the car.” He paused. “Why did you take me here?” I didn’t expect him to comment on what I said. He knew I was right, that’s all I needed.

“My mom sometimes took me with her on her shifts and after she was done we would go up here. After she died the owner gave me a key so that I could come here every time I needed it. Or needed her.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not anymore. This place was the only thing making me feel at home for years and I came almost every day, but when I started working at the BAU I stopped going here more and more. And now I don’t really need it anymore, because my apartment finally started feeling like home. Especially when you are there.” I looked at him while saying that last sentence and I saw him smile for the first time in days. His eyes caught mine.

“Thank you, y/n.” Those words could have many different meanings. Thank you for taking me here. Thank you for staying. Thank you for making me feel better. But it didn’t matter what he meant, because I knew.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I think I’d like to stay for a bit longer.”

And that's what we did. We stayed there for hours. That night we talked through every possible way of how Spencer could have acted differently, yet every scenario ended with the death of that girl. After that he finally accepted that it wasn’t his fault. Baby steps.

[senseandaccountability]

(MELE makes me want to write ME fic again, dammit.) As a child Alexandra is so low-maintenance that Hannah worries. A dull, distinct hum at the back of her mind, a little voice telling her to watch out, to not let her guard down. It's the quiet ones, someone tells her once in passing and then she can’t stop thinking about it. She worries, she tells herself, because she’d be a fool not to. The galaxy is a messy, messed up place and you lose sight of everyone. How can you even begin to keep hold of something as unfinished, as fluid as a child? She worries, too, because a part of her has always doubted her own capacity for motherhood and every kid deserves better than doubt and half measures. So she’s guarding, putting up constant vigilance in the face of potential disasters and future trauma. Hanna Shepard, third generation Alliance marine, just doesn’t have it in her to stand still long enough for a kid to have time to grow up. But here that kid is, for better and for worse, a quiet girl poured over strategy games and books, always strangely scrunched up, her long limbs wrapped around themselves as a shield. The kid’s dad, a soft-spoken doctor from Ferris Fields turned field medic for the Third fleet, disappears out of the picture as quietly as he entered it; nobody expected him to stay. It’s Hannah who is there. Hannah who pats her daughter’s back, a little less awkward each year; she reads her bedtime stories and teaches her about galactic history and military life, spinning tales from her experience and vague childhood memories; she keeps watch. When Alex unleashes her first manifestation of biotic powers, it's Hannah who holds her shivering body and takes her to the Alliance medics, talks her through the examinations and evaluations, Alex's hand in hers when the implant goes in, zap-zap, forever embedded in the brain. Properly trained, it’s going to be a great asset, the military say but Hannah knows it’s also a huge danger, a life-altering fate and this is her daughter, the chip-in-the-brain her fault. She lets the too-tall girl sleep in her bed for months afterwards, as if that would protect her.  As if something could.  * She comes home - whatever that means, wherever that is with Hannah stationed all over the galaxy - after her first year of training and is nearly unrecognizable. Twenty-five new pounds of muscle, two tattoos, a badly placed piercing and a glint in her eyes, an unspoken tale of something Hannah isn’t sure she wants to hear about. They have meals together, they read in the afternoons and run a couple of battle sims a day. Need to stay sharp, she says and runs her hand over her cropped hair.  * She comes home after Torfan carrying a reputation. The kind that sticks.  The Butcher of Torfan, they call her, the little girl who taught herself to read at the age of four, who slept like a starfish in Hannah’s bed and named all the bugs she found on the rare surface excursions.  It doesn’t feel right.  “It is what it is,” Alex says, chewing on her lower lip and downing a fourth beer. Later, she’s wasted and half-asleep on the couch, datapad in her hand and Hannah picks it up, glimpses hours of the exact same activity: checking out the Alliance military pages on the extranet, scanning the entire place for keywords torfan and courage, visiting the profiles of those lost. It’s nothing she hasn’t witnessed before, military devastation runs in her blood and bones, but her chest aches all the same. “I’m sorry,” Alex mumbles as Hannah puts a blanket over her. “Shit, I’m just-” “It will be alright, sweetheart,” Hannah replies, the motherly lie so thick in her mouth.  * She calls home from the Normany, calls home as the vanguard of the Alliance, all of Hannah's impossibly brave daughter poured into that tight fit of codes and regs. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” she says and nods at a handsome lieutenant by her side. Then they tell her about the ship, the geth, the breaking of pretty much every reg they have ever ran across during their mission and Hannah can’t help but laugh, the images of the scrawny kid surfacing at every corner. The lieutenant looks at her daughter like she’s the goddamn sun and perhaps, Hannah thinks, he actually means it.  “You man enough to be a bystander, Alenko?” He has kind eyes. If the future somehow proves him a bastard or a coward, Hannah will at least give him that. He has kind eyes and there’s a self-confident gentleness to him that fills out some of the hollow worry in her chest. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching into an introverted kind of smile. “Good.”   * It’s Alenko who calls her months later, his eyes full of tears and Hannah knows, before he even speaks, that she has failed, ultimately and devastatingly failed. She lost sight of her, the little starfish on the bed.  “It will be alright,” she tells herself this time, because someone has to.   

[organic-guacamole]

episode 210 here we go

awww seb doing the intro

congratulations to milky white and her baby chocolate milk😌

seb is so funny

but seriously, clean up that milk fast or else it will smell so bad in there....

was that Lauryn just randomly doing cartwheels? idk any theatre kids irl but that seems like it's a common thing...

is it just me or has ms Jenn been getting more harsh to Ricky and Seb mainly-

like what did they do to her

no because I actually snorted with laughter at the "you came back" WHAT IS THAT VOICE-

AND THE MASK OMG

yeah so my throat hurts now

I'm dying over here

KOURTNEY'S FACE

SAME GIRL SAME

Ricky's fake death got the whole place in tears /s

he looks like an asthmatic walrus

Seb's on piano, I love

we all know if he was the beast we'd all actually be crying✋

ok but I listen to Julia's version of home on Spotify when I want to cry-

right so gimme a second

is Ricky scratching his face.....while he's dying?

"belle i-" *flop*

round of applause to Ashlyn for trying to make Ricky's earthworm seizure look less.... yknow

Kourtney's just dying there

WAIT IS THAT NATALIE

did she really just disappear for 9 episodes just to come back and stare dramatically into the camera

WAIT SCRATCH THAT SHES HERE TO MURDER ASHLYN AND RICKY

oh so Ricky's wearing a gay shirt now too

so that's the real reason why Rini broke up, see y'all next season when Gini and caswen become canon /j

wait that was a long intro scene-

what was that look Carlos-

TALK TO MY BOY OR ELSE

carlos' run is so funny to me

therapist Ashlyn to the rescue

"that is...super" son you good?

ms Jenn call Benjamin, he would willingly put his loved ones on a rocket and blast them into Venus for you....

maybe

"I don't want you kids to be disappointed" girl you do realise you're the one that's most invested in this?

"a smooth opening night" wasn't there just 1 show though-

like their opening night was closing night too

"I think I was Troy at one point" PLEASE THATS THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE SEASON 1 FINALE

me Jenn looks like a serial killer during that clap and I'm lowkey scared for zacky

"I have notes"

oo if you're taking suggestions, lemme get my list

"mother is freaking out" uhhhhhh

right....'mother"

"is everyone sitting down?"

*looks around awkwardly*

*big red slowly sits*

"no..."

please seb was the only one sitting-

does that mean Carlos looked at Seb as soon as he walked in and assumed that everyone else was sitting too or am I a seblos clown🤡

"is this about the transformation"

WOW MAYBE OT IS RICKY

WOW HES A DETECTIVE FOR FIGURING THAT OUT SO QUICK🤩

YO WHY IS NATALIE HERE-

she just shows up when it's convenient? is she gonna be at the sleepover too?

Seb's heavy swallow after Carlos shouts at him makes me so sad

"I never learned how to lie but I figure if I keep my mouth closed, I can't tell the truth" *nods and smiles at Nini when she asks*

why are they casually standing up all over the pizza shop, just sit at a big table and talk instead of blocking passageways and blocking off at least 6 tables-

"how about I invite myself" WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO INVITE THEMSELVES TO ASHLYN'S HOUSE-

YOU CAN ASK BUT JUST FORCE YOUR WAY IN?

so Cash Caswell has a bigger house than... Dennis Caswell.... who would've thought

ah yes there's the good old EJ 1.0

Nini: "boys vs girls"

Gina: *looks devastated and glances longingly at EJ*

way to be inconspicuous

"but north high should be" *cracks her knuckles in the most uncomfortable way*

good for Ashlyn for getting more confident though

oo bossy big red

"i get bossy around the power tools"

is that why Ashlyn was holding up the drill in episode 8 orrrr 🤠

oh

Lily, leave him alone please

she's literally not blinking, is that what makes her creepy?

the diss at big red and his face afterwards is priceless

isn't that similar to what Gina's mom said to her in season 1? hmmmm

but seriously please don't try to redeem lily, let us have a character to hate, or to love because they're evil.

not everyone's a good guy.

"im not liked here and I don't know what to do"

let antoine finish his salad and it'll fix everything

"hug emoji" *gags*

y'all realize Lily's literally 14?

why is she calling a 16/17 year old from another school for personal advice-

"he gets weird around tools"

I shouldn't be laughing so hard

"deja vu maybe?" awkward silence

I'm dying here I love EJ so so so so much

"where's seb"

*cuts to seb being held hostage hoping that they'd notice he's missing and go look for him*

"don't ask"

"oh ok"

"100% real faux fur" as you should queen

sponsored by target

Kourtney is singlehandedly saving the entire show.

Seb making finger guns make me happier than it should

why is this kinda making me want to have a co-ed sleepover with my non-existent theatre friends

YES YOU DO NEED TO TALK/SING TO SEB CARLOS THANK YOU FOR KNOWING THAT

wait what-

you haven't talked to him all WEEK-

Carlos are you stupid /hj

Benjamin is so adorable I can't

he turned around to come back for her instead of going home. you're "what do you want Jenn🙄X act isn't fooling anyone Benjamin 🙃

10101

1+4+16= 21st?

they placed 21st?

or do I just not remember how to convert to base ten

GIRL DON'T BE RUDE TO HIM, HE'S GONNA SAVE YALL

no ms Jenn, the kids are not eccentric 35 year olds.

aww sebby

is he thinking that Carlos is only with him cuz he's the only other openly gay guy at school-

son you are a perfect little bean don't put yourself down

yes they all ship portwell as they should.

they'll be throwing risotto at the wedding.

not the chocolates. stop there are no chocolates. please stop I'm dying.

Gina you don't have to explain yourself to her

it was a misunderstanding and it's in the past

why is Ashlyn still laughing-

exactly it wasn't a big deal please just move on Nini

Kourtney really be out here saving everything

WHY IS ASHLYN STILL LAUGHING

why do I feel like when Gina finally told Ash about it, she didn't think it was that funny but wanted to feel included in the inside joke so now she brings it up randomly to show that she's in on it....I totally don't do that...

"idk, the farmer type" oh son...

Ashlyn and big red are just spilling the secrets back and forth huh?

OOO EJ AND GINA SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-

cmon guys don't look at me like that-

"she is the best" and "we're buddies" don't sound right together

"pretty boy" "sweet boy" best ways to describe EJ

I love him.

and aw he's scared of rejection so he'll hold back just to keep her happy and not awkward how sweet

is Ricky wondering if letting her go(literally his song from last episode) was the best thing he did for Nini because he doesn't feel like it now? hmmm this is getting good

why is everyone so invested in Kourtney and Howie's relationship

PACK UP THE LAZY RICKY THING

oh yes Benji, that's exactly what she's doing

she couldn't follow her dream or whatever so now she's using the kids to gain some of the success she craves. why else would she have that massive hsm poster with her name on it in huge letters in her office.

just casually grab his hand with both your hands and stare at him creepily 🥰

ship jennzzara y'all

the first bump was a missed opportunity to do the baymax "falalala" as a reference to the fact that they watched big hero six while committing arson✋

wait so big red and EJ just left Ricky in the basement and now Ricky invited Carlos when they're supposed to be at the stage?

help no Ricky looks like he's about to tell Carlos he likes him (I know it's about writing the song for seb but still, look at his body language and tell me it doesn't look like that)

Ricky is so mature about this, he really just wants Nini to be happy even though he's hurting-

baby you deserve love, maybe Nini isn't the one for you but don't say you don't deserve it

why does he keep adding bro to the end like he doesn't know how to address Carlos

PLEASE CARLOS HAVING TO ADDRESS THE BRO THING

"let's write a song when we have like 45 minutes to get to the place and help our friends possibly win $50000 at the show in 2 weeks"

"can you hit a high C?"

"that's like the bottom of my range"

why am I laughing

this is so cool to see friendship interactions that we don't normally get to see

Nini why are you being like this-

Gina did nothing wrong??

I saw that, EJ and Gina being the only ones going in the same direction👀

right so obviously Kourtney's waiting until after the menkies to get back with Howie just in case he really is just using her as a way in to east high... obviously... right?

CARLOS

OK ITS COMING GET READY YALL

Why is portwell so awkward all of a sudden

OMG EJ

OMG GINA SAY YES or not, do what you want.

the way she doubts that EJ would genuinely ask so she has to make sure it's not Ashlyn behind it

OH

THE "NOT THAT I KNOW OF"

LIKE WHAT GINA SAID TO JACK ABOUT EJ BEING HER BOYFRIEND

GUYS THEY'RE SOULMATES

I want risotto now please

THEY'RE SO SWEET AND ADORABLY AWKWARD ITS LIKEEK LITTLE KIDS

OOOOOOO what is this place that seblos is in, looks fancy....and secluded

oh wait no Ricky's just standing there

wait is it the bomb shelter

it looks so good what

HSKAGSJAGAJAGWISGSKAUASBWKSVAIWBAISBQKSHIQBWOABWOABDOQBZIQBAIAQBSIWBQISVQKSIANSGOQBSAISBKASBKWBAIABQOSBBSJAHAJAVAJSBAJHSKAHSJAHAJAJAAJAHHHHHHHH

@youranxiousnerd ARE YOU OK?

CUZ IM NOT OK

LOOK AT SEBBY'S FACE

LOOK AT HOW ADORABLE IT IS

THE LYRICS ARE KILLING ME

SEBLOS IS KILLING ME

I AM DEAD

PLEASE SEND HELP

I like to imagine that Frankie and Joe practiced this in their apartment and just had a blast with it.

or maybe that Frankie practiced in secret like what Joe did for the climb

OH THE SUITS

THATS WHERE THAT CLIP IN THE PROMO WAS FROM

AWWW SEBBY'S SO CUTE

HE'S A LITTLE MARSHMALLOW

they're still so awkward with the dance I cant

let's appreciate Frankie's voice though

this episode really was made just for the seblos and portwell stans and you gotta love it

BIG RED GET OUT

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS DO THIS

Seb's little "yeah" IS ADORABLE

you can't tell me that wouldn't have been the best time for them to say I love you....IF FREAKIN BIG RED WASN'T THERE

ok but wait Ricky needs more hugs like that, look at his face

the boy needs love

"bro" please don't let Ricky and Carlos go back to not talking because their friendship is amazing

EJ laughing at Ricky sounding like a cat coughing up a furball is so funny to me

RICKY'S FLOP GETS ME EVERYTIME

I knew it was too good to be true

ok so Ricky's dead, next in line please

this episode was so short but I love it so much. this is what I signed up for for season 2✋

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Alabasta (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

crocodile is one of my favorite villains in one piece for a number of reasons, and one of them is because he’s such a threat, the first real one faced in the grand line and one of the toughest in all of paradise. the villains from the arcs before this, like wapol or the agents from little garden, could barely even land a hit on luffy in actual combat. so crocodile is introduced here as an absolute force of nature, a complete contrast to recent villains and a very tangible threat. 

it’s an impression he very much lives up to later in the arc by crushing luffy not once but twice, which only makes luffy’s ultimate hard-won triumph feel all the better. luffy closes a huge gap over the course of alabasta in order to be able to beat crocodile, and giving us a sense of just how strong he is from the very start gives luffy clawing his way up to that level a lot more weight. 

the successive reveals of luffy’s family never fail to absolutely delight me, because in any other series they would almost certainly feel contrived, but knowing luffy, it is absolutely unsurprising he just never happened to mention his relatives. nobody asked! luffy’s unique brand of honesty is one of my favorite character quirks, because he’s very straightforward and in fact can’t lie for shit, but his priorities are so completely off the wall that he winds up omitting highly relevant information completely by accident. 

ace’s scene in alabasta really does impress me. oda’s said in an sbs that he knew ace’s fate from his introduction, which i find absolutely unsurprising given the intricacy of his story planning. that means he needed ace’s introduction to make him both likable and memorable enough in the space of just a couple chapters that the audience would be engaged when he became the focus of the story a couple hundred chapters on despite barely appearing at all in the intervening time, and he really succeeded. 

kohza is one of my favorite minor characters in the whole series, and i think he’s a big part of why alabasta’s civil war plotline works so well and feels so real. nobody on either side of the war actually wants to fight, but everyone has been driven to such desperation that they feel they have no other choice in order to save their country; and kohza exemplifies that. he's a good person who loves his country a lot, and who genuinely likes and cares about the royal family and vivi especially, and the only option he can see to save alabasta is terrible, but there’s nothing else he can do. 

it’s just fun for me to think about the fact that if crocodile was literally anything other than a very skilled logia, vivi would have ended the whole entire arc right here. 

i really like civil war storylines when they’re well-done, and i think alabasta is one of the best ones i’ve seen in media. most of it is down to what i mentioned earlier, about how nobody on either side actually wants to fight but feels like they have no choice but to. nobody here is actually in the wrong except for crocodile, and so until crocodile is defeated, nothing can be fixed- which is what luffy, of all people, is the one to realize. 

sanji’s mr. prince gambit is probably my single favorite part of alabasta, and i think one of the reasons i like it so much is because he basically beats crocodile at his own game. crocodile is terrifying in battle, but before anything else he’s a manipulator. he’s always working from the shadows, always deceiving people doing what he wants, and sanji manages to turn the tables on him and do the exact same back to him, twice. 

also sanji looks great in glasses

smoker and tashigi both get kind of unfortunately sidelined after this saga, but they’re both really great characters in alabasta. (tashigi especially; i’ll get to her later.) much like the rebel army, they’re good people trying to do the right thing in the tangled mess of tension and politics and resentment that is alabasta- and when that means working with pirates, they’ll buckle down and do it, despite how much it might contradict their worldviews. 

i love when events align in one piece so that people who don’t particularly like the strawhats wind up working with them for some common goal (as seen most prominently in impel down), and smoker and tashigi in alabasta are the first and still one of the best examples of that. 

the entirety of luffy versus crocodile round one is so well done. we’re a hundred and fifty chapters in, and although luffy has struggled in fights before now and then, we get the sense he hasn’t ever really been pushed to the brink, and he’s certainly never lost.

and then he does, completely and absolutely, without ever even landing a hit on his opponent, and it hits like a punch. 

oda seems to be a fan of characters just barely missing each other- the similar panel of robin and olvia running past each other from robin’s flashback comes to mind.

i’ve always liked that of all the strawhats, it’s usopp who gets the first “luffy is going to be king of the pirates” moment. they’ve all said it by the current chapters in wano (with the sole exception of robin, i believe), but usopp said it first, and that feels significant to me. he’s always been the one who feels the least secure in his place on the crew, but even so, he has so much faith in luffy. 

nami’s fight with miss doublefinger is pretty silly in places and i think it gets frequently (understandably, it must be said) overshadowed by zoro’s fight with mr. 1 directly afterwards, but i really like it nonetheless. it’s nami’s first real solo fight in the whole series, and once she finds her feet she kicks ass, and i really like that. it feels like a very satisfying development for her, to stand up and risk her life in direct combat for vivi’s sake. 

we’re now almost a thousand chapters in and its my firm belief that zoro versus mr. 1 is still one of the best fights in the entire series. i definitely think it’s probably zoro’s best fight- only his match with kaku compares. the narrative build over the course of the fight, from zoro struggling just to match mr. 1 (and getting shredded to pieces in the process) to cutting him down in one final stroke, is incredibly cool and satisfying to watch. it feels like a very tangible step forward for zoro in terms of ability, like a massive obstacle has been surmounted and, as he himself says, he’s now stronger for it. 

its also very cool that this is, i believe, the first appearance of what is probably observation haki, though it isn’t named or recognized as such. i’m always endlessly impressed by all the little moments of internal consistency that oda manages to sprinkle into his story. 

there’s barely any dialogue on these entire two pages, from crocodile dropping vivi to luffy and pell swooping in- the story is briefly told entirely through visuals- and i love that. it gives the impression of a single tense, frozen moment as vivi falls, which is then broken in spectacular fashion when luffy catches her. 

i really, really like the progression that runs through all three of luffy’s fights with crocodile. the gap between them goes from being impossible, with luffy unable to even land a hit and crocodile basically toying with him; to surmountable but still huge, with luffy able to land some hits but still outclassed; to finally putting them on basically even ground. and every inch of that growth on luffy’s part is hard-fought and hard-won and well-deserved. 

crocodile’s confidence in his abilities isn’t misplaced- he genuinely is that powerful. but if there’s anything we know about luffy by now, it’s that he doesn’t ever give up. it’s very fun to watch crocodile’s dismissiveness turn into disbelief turn into rage and frustration when luffy just won’t die. 

luffy is, additionally, pretty clearly a better brawler than crocodile (which makes sense, crocodile is clearly used to devastating long-range attacks with his powers while luffy grew up fighting giant wildlife with his bare hands), which means that by the time of their last fight, where they’re just whaling on each other in the catacombs and crocodile is starting to get sloppy and desperate and lose control, if anything it’s luffy who has the upper hand. 

zoro and sanji’s dynamic is always a favorite of mine, and one of the things i like best about them is how perfectly in sync they always manage to be when it comes to things that actually matter, despite fighting like cats and dogs pretty much every other time. i’ll never understand people who think they genuinely aren’t friends. 

tashigi is really good in alabasta, okay. she essentially has her own entire character growth arc. she goes from her stance in loguetown, where she isn’t even tolerant of (fully legal!) bounty hunters, to here, where she’s forced to confront that the world isn’t nearly as black and white as she’s always believed it to be, that sometimes pirates are good and allies of the government are bad, and ultimately makes the right choice to help the strawhats even though it clearly pains and frustrates her that she can’t do anything more herself. 

i’ll be forever mad that her only really significant appearance after this in punk hazard didn’t really live up to what her character deserved. 

i really like how the countdown sequence is done. the tension is ratcheting up and up and up as the clock ticks down in the final seconds, panels cutting all over the city to show all the different characters, everyone who’s caught up in this conflict and everyone who’ll die if the cannon fires-

and then the clock hits zero, and we get this panel that’s just... quiet, after all the madness, as we see how vivi stopped the detonation. i think oda is very good at setting up his pages so they have a flow to them, so no matter how quickly you actually read sometimes things feel like they’re going very fast and all happening at once and then it slows down and gives the reader a chance to breathe, if only to speed up again later. i think oda is really good at pacing in general, really, both on a micro level like this and on a larger scale. 

luffy’s greatest strength isn’t really his strength. he’s strong, absolutely, but that’s not really why he wins the fights he shouldn’t win. he wins because he just doesn’t fucking stay down. his fight with katakuri is probably the best example of this, because katakuri has him beat in pretty much every category except sheer endurance, and there as here, it’s that endurance that winds up getting luffy the win in the end. 

i do love that it’s the rain that ends the war. not the explosion and pell’s sacrifice, not vivi’s pleading, not even luffy kicking crocodile into the stratosphere, but the rain, the thing alabasta’s been missing for too long, the thing crocodile stole, the only thing all these people are fighting over. 

it’s crocodile’s symbolic defeat- at the same moment his power is broken by luffy, the stranglehold of dehydration he’s been using to foment war and rebellion is all at once gone, and he’s left with nothing at all, and alabasta can finally find peace and start to heal again. 

i always love the little moments that show, usually without words, just how much the strawhats love each other, and all of them unanimously waiting until vivi is out of sight to collapse so that she won’t worry, won’t see how ragged they ran themselves for their sake, is definitely one of them. 

i adore vivi’s sendoff, because while its sad she has to go, the certainty that someday they’ll meet again and that even if not they’ll always be crew manages to make this scene endlessly hopeful instead (which, i think, is also a good summary of one piece’s tone as a whole, at least in its more serious moments). luffy never says goodbye, after all, and nobody ever really leaves the strawhat pirates. 

i’m really looking forward to vivi’s re-entry to the story. i really, really want to see her reunion with the strawhats. 

hey look, it’s the panel my profile picture is from! 

the mystery surrounding robin and her past is built up in little ways long before enies lobby, from her harsh reaction when confronted with by tashigi to her aversion to being called by her given name to this flashback, of her talking to cobra about her dream. of them, the latter is my favorite, because i think it’s probably the most sincere she is until enies lobby- which makes sense, given she thinks she’s about to die. 

like many things about robin in alabasta, this gets cast in a new light by her backstory. if she dies here, so too does the entire legacy of ohara- but she’s so beaten down and hopeless that she really doesn’t see any light ahead to strive for. there’s no hope left, for her, and the whole world against her. 

and then there’s luffy, who creates hope everywhere he goes, who makes her live anyways. 

this is a hell of a spread to hook us very effectively right into the sky island saga. it’s a perfect reminder of just how much we still don’t know about all the endless mysteries of the grand line, and just how many adventures are still yet to be had.

[fan-written]

The Mission

Day 28, Distress

Warnings: Angst, discussion of cheating, and a breakup.

Seriously, there is no happy ending, so if that’s what you want don’t read!!!!! Also, forgive me if it isn’t quite that good. This was my angst practice that I decided to tie into Daminette December. @daminette-december2019-2020

"No."

"Mari, really." Damian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's just a mission. It will be over before you know it. I should even get time off afterwards to go on that vacation you wanted." He reached for her, trying to reassure her that it was fine.

She grimaced and leaned away from his touch. "Sure, just a mission. One where you pretend to cheat on me, then we publicly break up, only for you to begin formally dating your mistress." She stood and began pacing. Her hands waved through the air punctuating each word. "All the while I'll be hiding out in a safe house where you'll come and visit me whenever you can get away. Oh and let's not forget this mark is one Lila Rossi. The same Lila Rossi that tried to ruin my life and almost got me killed."

Marinette spun towards him and smiled stiffly. "Did I misunderstand anything, Dear?"

If he'd had less control over his body, Damian would have flinched at her sneer.

"Habiti," she frowned, "please. It shouldn't last long. We just need to know who has been smuggling the artifacts into the country. Some of them are magical in nature so we need to be proactive about it. Rossi is their public face and we need to get close to her."

“And it couldn’t be one of the unattached men on your team? Or elsewhere within the Justice League? You know, someone who isn’t living with their partner? Who hasn’t had several long conversations about marriage!? I thought you were going to propose, Wayne, not break up with me!”

Damian jumped to his feet at the use of his last name. Marinette hadn’t called him that since they’d started dating. “Pretend. Pretend to break up, Marinette. We would still be together, just not in public.”

Marinette walked around their coffee table as she spoke, making sure to keep it between them. It wouldn’t help much if this fight became physical, but it would leave enough time for her to transform. Damian could see a red Kwami floating nearby and he knew the others would be on standby as well.

“So I’d become the Mistress in hiding? You'd have me waiting patiently for you to return to me whenever you have a free moment to spare. Nothing more than a trinket for your amusement. All while watching you gallivant around with a harpy and manipulator who holds a grudge against me.” He scowled and clenched his fists. She wasn’t listening to him. “That hit last night must have scrambled your brain if you think for one second I’d be-”

“ENOUGH!”

She flinched and Damian regretted yelling at her for half a second. Adrien hadn’t been the most kind to her near the end of their relationship. But he needed her to understand that this was important. These artifacts in the wrong hands would be devastating. They needed to get to Rossi, and quickly, and he was the best one for the job.

“I am the one doing this mission because of your history with her!” His voice was quieter than before, but he struggled keeping it that way. Then again, Marinette always brought his emotions to the surface. “We know she would do almost anything to try and ruin you so I am the perfect candidate. She is more likely to bring me into her confidence quicker than anyone else because she will believe she can cause damage to you through me.”

"Lila would have you put me in a tower just to keep me out of sight. If she had access to gloat over me, even better!" Her voice matched his intensity, "But I've already saved myself from one tower. Another wouldn't stop me." She paused, defiance in every line of her body, asking him to hear her.

Damian searched her face, trying to understand what she was thinking. Instead her normally open gaze was shuttered and her face blank. He could only find a sliver of icy anger in her blue eyes. Finally she scoffed and turned away to look at the ground. Tikki landed on her shoulder and patted her cheek. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she looked back up he still couldn’t tell what her thoughts were, but she was calm.

“I can’t stop you from taking this case.” She spoke softly. She wasn’t pleading, but it was a close thing. “I’ve never tried because I know what they mean to you. But just this once I’m going to ask you to not do this. You’ve only read about her, but I know her. She will use you and your resources to get further ahead. She will worm her way into the deepest recesses of your mind and make you believe things you know aren’t true. And if she doesn’t then she will twist you back into a version Ra's would be proud of. I don’t want to see you become a shell of yourself. I’m not sure I could. Please don’t take this case.” 

The silence was deafening. They stared at each other until Marinette looked away. She had pleaded her case even though she already knew the answer.

"I am heading to the Watchtower to let them know I accept the mission. I'll see you when I get back."

Damian turned and picked up his jacket from the back of the couch. He figured she wouldn't say anything else and began to walk swiftly towards the door.

"I won't be here when you get back." He cast a glance back to find her watching him. Her voice rang with promise, almost too loud after the fight. "If you walk through that door now, there won't be anything pretend about our break up."

He sighed and shook his head. "You're just upset. We both are. We can talk about it later when we both have clearer heads." And with that, he left her standing in their living room listening to the click of the door shutting behind him.

---

She hadn't been there, but he expected as much. 

The visit to the Tower had taken longer than he'd expected and he'd come home far too early in the morning for any sensible person.

He noticed immediately that some of her things were missing, but nothing extreme. Just a bag of clothes, necessities, and the miracle box. Her sketchbooks were still in the bookcase and her most recent commission was still on the mannequin. She would be back and they would figure it out.

Two weeks later and Damian was beyond frustrated with her and her refusal to return to the apartment. He knew she was still seen entering it since there had been no scandal in the paper, but never when he was there. They'd only met in public, with other people around, making it impossible for them to discuss anything related to his mission or their relationship.

He was in the middle of sparring with Dick, struggling to pull his punches for such a friendly spar. He was angry, but he didn't want to let on that something was bothering him. He hadn't told his family about the mission yet, but he knew he'd have to before he and Marinette staged their break up.

Not to mention he'd officially met Rossi that morning. She felt just as slimy and greasy as Marinette had made her sound. 

"What's up Little D? You seem distracted today," Dick asked when they stopped for water. 

He took a long draw from his bottle to buy extra time to answer. He probably should have expected Dick to pick up on his distress. "Nothing much." He sighed and looked away. He should tell them, but, not now. Later. "Marinette and I are having a disagreement is all. You know how busy this time of year is for her so we haven't had a chance to actually discuss it yet."

It wasn't quite a lie. She always had an off season fashion show to showcase her students work and give them the feel of managing their own line. But she had always made time to spend a meal with him at least. And they had. However, instead of home cooked meals they hadn't had anything more private than lunch at a busy restaurant since he left the house that day.

"That's tough." Damian couldn't stand the sympathy on Dick's face and scowled. He wasn't going to feel guilty for taking this mission. "Do you want to trade patrol shifts? I have tomorrow off at the precinct so I don't mind working tonight so you can talk to Nettie."

It wasn't a bad idea. Marinette knew his shifts so she would likely avoid him until the next time Oracle made up the patrol schedule.

"Sure," he said with a short nod. "Thanks Richard."

---

Damian had expected to surprise Marinette and finally make her talk to him. Instead he was shocked to find the apartment empty and an envelope with his name sitting on the counter.

Damian,

I love you.

I expected to spend the rest of my life with you, but this is something I draw the line at. I have spent the last two weeks trying to understand why you have to be the one doing this, and while you may get results faster, it's at the cost of my emotions and trust. The cost of our relationship.

You left me, Damian, in the middle of our home to go accept a mission asking you to cheat on me. I tried to get over it, but I like to think I am worth more than that. 

I'll make appearances, be a dutiful girlfriend until the breakup, but that's it. That's all I'm doing for this mission of yours. 

Lila Rossi has taken so much from me, but I refuse to let her take my dignity and self worth. Even if you and I are the only ones who know it.

Goodbye Damian al Ghul-Wayne. I wish you all the luck in the world.

Marinette

Damian reread her letter. And again.

A third time had him rushing to their bedroom. The sound of paper being crushed faint behind the beat of his heart.

Gone. Everything was gone. Her plants, half the pictures, even the cat pillow she refused to give up.

Gone.

Only a handful of clothes and toiletries were left. Enough that when the official breakup happened she would look like she was moving out.

She was gone and he knew she wasn't coming back. Even if he stepped away from this mission now, she wouldn't return to him. 

There was one thing she'd always told him she had trouble fixing once broken. And he had promised her he wouldn't forget. Promised he wouldn't shatter her the same way they had. But he'd forgotten.

He'd forgotten how fragile her trust was.

---

It had taken longer than he thought, but it was over. Lila, no she was Rossi once again, had been more paranoid than they had thought. 

But they had been correct in assuming she would take to Damian the quickest. Whether it was because he was a Wayne, or because he had been dating Marinette they couldn't be sure. But eventually she chose him.

Damian scrubbed his skin raw for hopefully the last time. Rossi had just been taken in by the Justice League and he planned on never seeing her again. He was sure he would feel her hands on him for far longer.

His apartment was too quiet, he thought as he climbed out of the scalding water. It always was these days. No Marinette sewing or baking. No Kwami fighting over the remote. Not even himself lately, flipping through a book in all the chaos.

He missed her. Her passion. Her fierceness. Her sense of justice. Occasionally he had the chance to watch her take down a thug three times her size while wearing whatever gem she chose that night. Occasionally he lost his breath in awe and gained a new bruise for it.

He missed her quiet. Her peace. Her strength. The papers weren't kind to either of them when they staged the breakup. It had happened earlier than he wanted, but all of Gotham could tell something was wearing on their Sunshine. They were even more invasive when she moved out. But Marinette had simply strut out as a modern version of Princess Diana, with her head high. The crowds parted before her without a single question asked. 

He had walked out a week later with Lila on his arm and a glare in his eye. They failed to make the front page much to Lila's ire and his secret glee. Marinette had, in her gorgeous dress and new haircut. Damian would have begged to run his hand through the shiny strands if they had seen each other in that first week.

He missed her nervousness. Her dramatics. Her chaos. She had held her student show two weeks after their breakup and he knew exactly what had been happening backstage. Only this time her usual panic attack would be handled by her students. The freakout at the sound booth would be calmed only after listening to the technician give her another rundown of the show.

And when she walked down the runway in her traditional, single contribution to the show he was blown away. A whirlwind of fabrics and color left the entire audience gaping. She had created a wedding dress out of scraps from all of her students' lines. She was forests of greens and blues, mountains of grays and browns, and sunsets of pinks and oranges. She was hurricanes, tsunamis, and earthquakes. It was creation and destruction, a beginning and end. A power. And yet it was delicate and oh so feminine, even with the torn edges of a runaway bride. She had been chaos and order and the world loved it.

Papers were arguing if it had been inspired by her recent breakup. The elite were whispering about who she'd been seen with. Any unattached bachelor or bachelorette were vying for her attention at every charity and gala. She merely floated through leaving a broken heart in every chest.

But what Damian really missed was her kindness. Her friendship. Her love. The way she smiled when he walked in the door. The blanket she used to drape over their laps while they watched a movie. How she looked for him first after a round with the Rogues. 

She didn't do that anymore. Her smile became a nod in his direction. That blanket was now shared with Cass, or Tim, or Duke. Even Jason would get to share with her on the few times he showed up to family movie night. He still caught her looking for him first, but it was only out of habit now.

Damian almost resented his family. She was good friends with all of them. She ran patrols with them. She trusted them, more than him. But he couldn't. They were his only chance to be near her. To see her relaxed, away from the public eye. The way she used to be with him.

---

"Your partner should be here any minute, Black Cardinal."

Damian nodded at Wonder Woman and leaned back in his seat. He pondered over who it could be. It had been over a year since the end of the Rossi case and some of his family still hadn't fully forgiven him for taking it. He understood. He couldn't quite forgive himself either.

They may have caused more than one problem for the Justice League. It often led to fights when they were paired. If not, then it was miscommunication problems between them. One unwilling to fully trust the other. 

He knew it couldn't be Red Robin. Last time they both ended up in the hospital for injuries they gave to each other. That happened when Damian learned that Tim had actually been working up the courage to ask Marinette out the same night he had. A small part of Tim hated Damian for taking that chance first and then throwing it away.

Red Hood was a hard no when it would be just the two of them. Jason apparently took Marinette in for the first few weeks of The Mission. He saw the aftermath of Damian's decision and Damian couldn't help the bitter jealousy he felt when he saw the other. Their meetings were never pretty. Or quiet.

Maybe it was Spoiler? Stephanie may have raged at him when she first found out, but she always put it aside when they had work.

A flash of red in his peripheral pulled him out of his thoughts. He quickly stood to look fully at the newcomer walking in and couldn't help but gape.

Her style had changed since he had last seen her. She was darker now, finally matching the shadows of her city. Beautiful embroidery detailed the red spots on the black Hanfu robe top. The sash at her waist was a dark red that matched her leggings. It wasn't traditional, but it was practical. He knew she must have felt some pride in showing a part of her heritage. 

In the end he could only think one thing. Ladybug was beautiful.

Damian continued to stare and was shocked to notice the bottom of the robe split in half and fluttered like wings. He could faintly remember reading that that only happened when beetles were agitated, but that wasn't important. 

She was in front of him, in uniform. She was going to be his partner for this mission. She was here.

"-ill you be okay working with him?"

They had been talking. She had spoken and he wasn't paying attention. What did Diana ask? Oh, that.

Damian tried not to hold his breath while she studied him. He had changed too. She had been right that Rossi would twist him; He was deadlier, less caring about accidental casualties.

But she was blank faced again, just like that night. In fact it was better than before. He realized then that he didn't know her anymore. That he would never know her that way again. It twisted his stomach and made his chest ache in a now familiar pain.

And then she spoke and his heart split again.

"It's fine, Wonder Woman. I know I can always trust Black Cardinal to complete a mission."

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, FugoNara / NaraFugo (Could be platonic, honestly, tho the BruAbba definitely isn't.)

Summary: “What?” he snaps.

“I’m just thinking.”

A pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). Here's another Bucci-centric chapter for the Bucci-centric fic.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Additional Notes: Sometimes having two disabled folks in one relationship is... rough. Not at all based on real life experiences...

Content Warning: couple fighting and a panic attack.

Also, for unnecessary clarification: Moody doesn't zipper through anything. Abbacchio goes around barriers and resets her timer as needed. Oh, and I use she/her for Moody. I've got a fic planned for that eventually.

There's also a mild mention of a headcanon I have where Bucci is technically Narancia's guardian. For school and healthcare purposes. (Fugo emancipated post-disownment, and Giorno kind of flies under the radar.)

-

Bucciarati won’t admit it, but there’s something devastating about the first medication not working. Or not working well enough. They can’t be sure, but he’s not willing to continue on something that ultimately failed to curb such a traumatic experience for one of the people he cares for most. He can’t quite shake the guilt that’s been slowly wearing away at him for days.

It’s only the anxiety of having another seizure in front of his famiglia that has him permitting Abbacchio staying home once more. He can’t do that to Narancia again, and he knows that it won’t be any less stressful for the rest of them. It’s bad enough when Leone has to deal with the fallout, but he’s better prepared for it. He’s seen worse, and it’s part of what they both signed up for. For better or worse, in sickness and in health. They’ve done everything but scribbled their names on the paperwork to make it official, but Bruno thinks that, with everything else they’ve gone through, they’ve more than earned their right as one another’s life partner.

Still, that doesn’t mean that Bucciarati likes to be watched like a lab experiment. With eyes that are waiting for the slightest hint that something’s wrong. It makes him acutely aware of the fact that he could have another seizure at any given moment. That he might have one with no warning signs, or at least not any that he’d recognize as such.

That’s the problem with auras; he can’t seem to recognize them for what they are.

He’s being unreasonable, he knows. He hasn’t had enough seizures to know whether or not he’ll learn to recognize the warning signs, but it feels like it’s been an eternity already. And a thousand seizures, rather than a small handful. Part of that is due to how poorly he feels afterwards, and how off he feels on the medication. Part of it is how all of this has disrupted their lives in every way imaginable. And all of it has him in a sour mood.

“You’re upset,” Abbacchio starts with a frown. It’s the first time either of them has spoken all morning.

“I’m frustrated.”

Abbacchio hums in response. A quiet sound that wouldn’t normally grate Bucciarati’s nerves, but it gets under his skin and festers.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m just thinking.”

A pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it,” Abbacchio answers, snappish and untrue. Even if it were, he knows why. Understands better than anyone else.

Bruno’s eyes widen slightly. A startled, wounded look evident in his blue irises, but his gaze hardens and he sneers,

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Bruno, wait--”

But Bruno is already gone with nothing but a trace of gold left behind.

Damn that stand.

______

It’s a childish thing, to storm off, especially when Bucciarati knows that Leone’s only worried. That he hadn’t meant the words that came out of his mouth, and that he’s as scared as Bucciarati is. That this is all out of his depth, regardless of what they feel for one another or what promises they’ve made. It’s still terrifying the way it’s terrifying to watch Abbacchio cough up blood some mornings.

He regrets leaving the moment he stops moving. Stops tearing holes through walls and leaving Sticky Fingers to put them back together. It’s like someone punched the air out of him, and all he can do is sink to the ground, on his knees, with his head held in his hands and his mouth open, gasping for air.

Each breath comes too quick, and leaves before he feels like he gets any air. There’s something wrapped around his chest. Too tight, and somehow pulling tighter. It’s all he can do to lie down. Before the next inevitable comes. He already feels too light-headed with a lingering dizziness that makes it impossible to think through.

“Bruno,” the voice sounds familiar. Too much like his own echoing in his ears, but he’s not talking, much less calling his own name. His voice wouldn’t sound like that. Wouldn’t sound steady, if not worried, but, when he looks, there’s a mirror image of himself looking down at him. It falls to its knees, and a familiar sound rings out in the air as Moody’s timer runs out. She reaches for him as purple wraps around her frame once more.

“Bruno,” Leone repeats, this time in his own voice, from his own body. He all but collapses on his knees beside his stand and reaches out with careful hands to brush Bucciarati’s hair from his face.

Time freezes for a moment. Bucciarati expects consciousness to flee him without warning, but the air lingers. Stale and stiff and impossible to breathe, and all he can do is try and try to pull enough of it into his lungs to try to chase away the spots dancing across his vision.

Recognition flashes across Leone’s features. Where his hand has gone still in Bruno’s hair, it moves once more. A gentle carding. A distraction from the racing fears in Bucciarati’s head. He can’t calm his breathing no matter how hard he tries. It feels completely out of his control, and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Leone asks him seemingly out of the blue, but he knows that’s not right. That Leone must have been talking since his arrival, but Bruno can’t recall a word that’s been said.

“Yes,” he breathes, because he is now, and he meant to before. It’s just so hard to hear anything past the roaring in his ears.

“You need to calm down a little bit. Take some deep breaths,” Leone tells him, as if Bucciarati hasn’t been trying to do that since he stopped moving. There’s a sense of impending doom that lingers, pressing down on him until it’s crushing and unbearable.

“Hey,” Leone calls, tapping Bruno gently on the forehead, “You gotta focus on me, alright? Stop listening to whatever’s going on in that thick head of your’s, and listen to me. I need you to breathe in-- slower than that. Okay, good, hold-- now out. Annnd in--” They go through the steps several more times, until Bucciarati can successfully follow the counts more often than not. Finally-- finally he can breathe. Oxygen filters through his system, and his vision begins to clear. It’s only then that he starts to put the pieces together, and it’s shame that replaces the panic.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Leone cuts Bruno off before he can apologize. “I get it.” He moves to catch Bruno when he wobbles a bit too much upon trying to sit up. “Take it easy, will you?” He sighs and sits back.

“Sorry,” Bruno says, for lack of anything else to say.

“I’ll kick your ass if you apologize again.”

Bruno opens his mouth, and Leone quirks an eyebrow. It’s enough of a threat, empty as it may be, to convince Bruno to click his teeth together.

Leone huffs a sound that might be a laugh. Or it might be the last of his sanity slipping away. He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I’m sorry. For what I said earlier. That was shitty. I’m just-”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.”

“That’s fair,” Bruno muses quietly. He absently wipes at his face, and it’s the first time he realizes that there are tears there. Streaking down both cheeks and plentiful in nature. He can’t remember the last time he had a panic attack. He’s better at running from his problems than he is dealing with them head on. At least the ones emotional in nature. The rest he’s always tackled with little more than a hope and a prayer to a deity he’s long lost faith in. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I told you to stop apologizing.”

“When have I ever listened to you?” Bruno snarks back, shoulders relaxing slightly.

Leone snorts, “Not a day in your life.” Bruno has the scars to prove it, too. Bastard. “C’mon. Let’s get off the floor. I’m getting too old for this.”

It’s Bruno’s turn to laugh this time, “You’re barely in your twenties.”

“And I’m too goddamn old. Up,” Leone pushes himself to his feet before reaching his hands out to pull Bruno upright. There’s a pause where the two are lost, staring at one another, and Leone decides ‘fuck it’. What better time to go for a kiss then after your partner has a full on panic attack? They’ve done worse with far more questionable timing.

Bruno responds to the kiss with a pleased little sound in the back of his throat. He tugs Leone closer, wanting the contact more than anything. He can feel Leone’s hands cradling the back of his head, fingers linking together at his nape.

“Gross! Get a room!”

Leone curses as they break apart and shoots Narancia the meanest look he can, “I will murder you.”

“Only if you catch me!” And the kid is off before Leone can even respond.

Bucciarati can’t help laughing at the whole display. He grabs for Leone’s hand before his partner can seriously consider killing Narancia. “May I remind you that I’m legally responsible for him?”

“They won’t find the body.”

“Leone!”

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Part 3

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: panic attack

Words: 1.5k

Summary: to everyone she knew, [y/n] was a peasant, destined to be a servant just like her parents. To Zuko, however, she was his best friend. After losing his agni kai and being exiled, [y/n] was devastated. She thought she would never see him again. Three years later, she almost wished he never came back.

A/N: wasn’t quite sure how to write this part, and I’m not sure how I feel about it...but I’m just gonna post it anyway :)

Part 2 <- Part 3 -> Part 4

Series | Masterlist

This dark, dusty hallway seems to never end. It feels like I've been wandering for hours, yet it feels like no time has passed. It feels familiar, like a fragment of a memory, yet it feels fabricated. It feels like a lot of things, but I feel…nothing. It's so surreal, yet so natural.

I watch myself from above. My body is floating, light as a feather. Am I spirit? No. How do I know? I don't. But I can see myself right there, standing on the floor next to my friend. I think it's him. His face is a blur, but I can see just enough to be sure.

We're talking. Nothing being said makes sense, yet it all makes sense. He's getting closer to me. Now I feel something, an urge, a whim. He's leaning in, closer and closer, and…

[Y/n]’s eyes fluttered open. She was curled up under the covers of one of the guest room beds. It must have been late morning, because the sun was peaking brightly between the curtains.

For a second, everything was okay. Then, she frowned upon realizing what just happened. Kissing Zuko, what a dream. Really, it could never be a reality. Last night, when they got to the beach, him and Mai made up and got back together. They even kissed right in front of [y/n]. It hurt to watch.

Fortunately for her, they were returning home today. [Y/n] could forget about this trip and go back to living her normal, boring life, something she never thought she would miss. As she packed her bag, she once again thought of that moment from last night. The memory was burned into her brain. No matter how hard she tried to push it away, it kept coming back. And every time, she wondered if what she saw was real. She sure wished it was.

Even if he really did, he could’ve been acting in the heat of the moment. He probably would’ve regretted it afterward. Yeah...why would he kiss his best friend? And a commoner at that? And while he clearly still has feelings for Mai? That would be ridiculous.

[One week later]

Knock, knock, knock.

[Y/n] propped herself up on her elbows and wiped her groggy eyes. It wasn’t unusual to have visitors—her family and neighbors often did favors for each other—but it was rather early in the day for one.

“Just a second!” [Y/n] called out. She tossed the covers aside, quickly threw on a robe and put her hair up in a messy bun.

Damn, I was really hoping to sleep in today. I hope it’s not someone important.

She opened the door.

“Hello, [y/n]!” A teenaged boy in a regal tunic with a scar on his face stood before her. He smiled brightly and waved his hand. [Y/n] felt her heart skip a beat.

“Oh! Um, hi, Zuko,” she replied.

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” Zuko chirped, “I thought we could hang out today, if you want. Your mom told me you have the day off.”

He wants to spend time with me? Just us? [Y/n] was delighted by the opportunity. Then, reality set in: Zuko was still dating Mai and only saw her as a friend. She couldn’t hold his hand, she couldn’t cuddle with him, she couldn’t kiss him, she couldn’t be with him the way she wanted. Clearly, [y/n] hadn't gotten over her crush. If she was going to continue being his friend, she would need to do so. She needed to give herself space.

“Um, I'd like to," [y/n] said slowly, "but...I don’t feel well today.” She placed a hand on her stomach to feign illness. The fact that she had just rolled out of bed helped her cause.

Zuko’s cheerful face morphed to one of sadness. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. Is there anything you need? I could bring you medicine or food.”

[Y/n] shook her head. “No, thanks. I have everything I need.”

“How about I brew you some tea?”

“Er, no, it’s fine. I just need rest.” She scratched the back of her neck nervously.

“Okay. Well, I hope you feel better,” Zuko said earnestly.

“Thanks. Maybe another time,” [y/n] said.

“Yeah.” He trailed off, nodding slowly as he backed away from her apartment. They said their goodbyes and waved to each other. [Y/n] closed the door and leaned against it. She dropped her head into her hands. Already, she regretted her decision. She wanted nothing more than to be with Zuko, even though she knew it would cause her heart to ache.

Why do I have to have a crush on him? Why can't I go back to liking him as a friend? I don't want these feelings. I just want our friendship, I just want what we had three years ago. I don't even know if I can be his friend anymore. It's ruining us. I just lied to him too. It was a stupid lie, but still, what kind of friend does that? Why couldn't I just say no? I’m so pathetic.

A few days had passed since then. Zuko didn't reach out to [y/n], and she didn't reach out to him. Once again, she was back to her day-to-day routine of things…somewhat. There was one day when all the residents on the main land had to be evacuated. [Y/n]'s mother said it was because Firelord Ozai was preparing for an attack during an eclipse, which would weaken our people.

When they returned, they saw the damage. The city's harbor had taken a serious beating, but the palace appeared to be okay. [Y/n]'s parents were quite relieved to know that they wouldn't have any extra work for themselves.

The day after they returned, [y/n] walked into the kitchen to eat breakfast. She saw a messenger hawk sitting on her window sill. Had Zuko finally reached out to her? She hesitantly untied the letter from the bird's leg and read it.

To: [Y/n] Summons Notice to Appear Your presence is required by his majesty Firelord Ozai immediately. Failure to appear in one (1) week will result in criminal charges against you and your family. From: Chief Advisor Xin

A bolt of fear struck [y/n]'s body. She froze. She backtracked the past several days and weeks, trying to think of what she could’ve done to warrant a summons. Nothing came to mind. Then, she wondered if her parents were involved in something treacherous. She couldn’t imagine them doing such a thing...perhaps they were being wrongly accused of a crime. Perhaps she was being wrongly accused of a crime. Her mind jumped to conclusions as rapidly as her heart was beating.

Finally, [y/n] broke free of her paralysis and fumbled for her things. She hastily headed to the palace. Breakfast could definitely wait. On the way, over and over, she begged and prayed to the spirits for her and her family’s safety.

At the palace, [y/n] approached the guards at the gate and presented the summons with shaky hands. They nodded, and one of them escorted her to the throne room. The guard slipped inside to announce her presence to Firelord Ozai. Meanwhile, she waited outside for permission to enter.

This would be her first time being in the presence of the Firelord, let alone talking to him. She was terrified to say the least. [Y/n]’s mom told her all kinds of stories about how scary he was. From the paintings she had seen before, his looks alone were intimidating. Her heart raced faster with every second she waited. Sweat coated her forehead and palms.

The guard returned, making [y/n] nearly jump out of her skin. He gestured for her to enter. And so she did.

The first thing [y/n] noticed was how warm the throne room was. It was massive and wide open with tall, ornate pillars outlining an aisle running down the middle. Straight ahead was the throne, where Firelord Ozai sat surrounded by large, hot, dancing flames. He wore a severe expression, looking just like he did in all those paintings. On his left sat a girl: Princess Azula. The seat on his right was empty.

Where’s Zuko? [Y/n] wondered, but only for a fraction of a second. That didn’t matter right now. She gulped nervously and approached the throne.

“F-Firelord Ozai. Princess Azula,” she shakily dropped to her knees and bowed. She had never felt so small before. “I received your message and came as soon as I could.”

“Why don’t I take this one, father?” [Y/n] gingerly peaked up to see Ozai quietly nodding to Azula. The princess rose from her seat and walked to [y/n]. [Y/n] slowly straightened up.

“Don’t be scared, [y/n]. We just want to ask you a few questions.” Azula patronized her.

“Have you seen or spoken to Zuko recently?” Azula inquired, pacing back and forth. Her heels clacked against the marble floor.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A few days ago.”

She stopped and turned on her heels to further interrogate [y/n]. “What did you two talk about?”

[Y/n] nervously explained what happened when Zuko stopped by the other day. Azula sighed dramatically and pinched her nose.

After a long, suspenseful silence, [y/n] daringly asked, “Princess Azula...do you mind if I ask what this is about?”

Azula glanced at her with the side of her eye. "Well, since you asked, my dear brother, Zuko…he's been missing the since the attack."

Taglist (open!): @aangsupremacy @kaylove12 @celestialentitiesss

[strawberryjmilk]

honeysuckles and dewdrops | part sixteen

word count: 1910

songwriter!reader, idol!hyunjin there’s like one swear word so! also descendants is mentioned again disney pls spare me

masterlist is in my bio!

Flowing sounds of piano keys settled around Yoo-mi's kitchen. The girl herself was twirling her newly-dyed pink hair, mouthing along to the lyrics of the song as she cooked. Every now-and-then, Yoomi would do a small bit of choreography, looking to you and winking.

"Y/N!" You held back a groan — Yoomi was using her baby voice. With an — exaggerated — pout, Yoomi spoke again. "Tell me I'm pretty! You tell Jinnie he is all the time and it's just not fair."

You laughed, "you're the prettiest, Yoo. Promise."

Hyunjin's name caused you to pause. Nothing was official — you weren't dating, but you weren't looking at other people, either. You hadn't asked him and he hadn't asked you — it was a 'we know we like each other, what now?' situation.

At least, you thought he liked you. Positive. Pretty sure. Right? He had to — he apologize every chance he could and made sure you never felt left out or second best. Things just weren't technically official — you just had to say the word. Besides — he didn't really know you. He didn't know that you weren't just Yoomi's songwriter; he didn't know that you held the voice everyone seemed to admire.

How could you start a relationship when you would only be lying to him?

Your phone ringing — that's what brought you back to reality. You blinked, walking out of the room once you read the contact name. Yoo-mi shot you a teasing grin — you smiled sheepishly in return.

"Hello?" Your voice was hushed and tip-toeing on the shy side. You sat on Yoo-mi's bed, relaxing your nervous figure as much as you could. He still made you nervous — still made you quiet and trembling and shy. You caught sight of the clock, frowning at the time. "It's late, Hyunjin. You should be sleeping."

A laugh echoes through the speaker and you could imagine Hyunjin's pretty, gentle smile he seemed to save for you only. "I know it is, Y/N. Just wanted to talk to you, is all."

"Oh?" A teasing tilt curves against your words, causing a smirk to fall onto your lips. You grin, "why's that?"

"Just because," you could almost hear his own grin as he answered. A shuffle of sheets was heard from the other line — he was getting ready to sleep, you guessed. "What are you doing? Are you with Mimi?"

You held in a scoff — where else would you be? "Of course I'm at Yoo's — my home away from home." You paused. "She used her baby voice on me so I would tell her that she's prettier than you."

Hyunjin's laugh echoed through the speaker — you were elated you could get him to laugh so easily and so loudly. You let out a small, content sigh, smiling down at the floor gently. Still chuckling, Hyunjin spoke again, "you said she is, right? You know how sulky she can get."

"Of course I did, she might've kicked me out." Hyunjin let out another loud, beautiful laugh. At this point, you doubted any of the other boys were asleep. Hyunjin was being loud — and maybe you could hear Felix making a ruckus in the background. The line goes silent and you could feel your thoughts popping up again.

"Hey, Hyunjin... what if I lied to you?" You bit your lip as you asked the question, nervous of what Hyunjin would think. He hummed, the sound reverberating through the phone.

"Depends on what you lied about," Hyunjin answered. It was silent for a second before he spoke again. "Are you lying to me?"

"What would you consider a bad lie?" You asked instead. You were nervous — what if he completely hated you? Technically, it wasn't your decision to hide your job. But, you still agreed and it still made you feel guilty.

It only took a few moments for Hyunjin to speak. When he did, his voice was hushed and sad. "That you didn't like me. I think I'd be devastated to realize this is a one-sided thing instead of a mutual feeling."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that," you were grinning. How could he make you feel like this without even being near you? "I absolutely adore you, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Shit," it was muttered. Some movement on his side of the line, the crinkling of a blanket could be heard.

You raised an eyebrow, concern fighting with the grin that was on your face. "Hyunjin? Um, should I be worried? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he breathed. You could hear him giggle lightly before he cleared his throat. "I'm completely fine. But you, Y/N L/N, are dangerous. You cannot say things like that and not expect me to feel this way."

"Feel what way?" You teased. You were curious, though, if he felt just as strongly as you did.

"Like I could be falling in love with you right now and I wouldn't mind at all," his voice was soft again. You could envision him perfectly — his eyes sparkling as he grinned into the phone's receiver.

"I wouldn't mind, either," you copied his hushed tone.

"God, I wish I was with you right now," Hyunjin sighed. You heard a muted conversation, the words garbled as you assumed Hyunjin covered his speaker. Sighing, his voice came into focus again. "I have to go, Y/N. But, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," you whispered. Hyunjin hummed, hanging up afterwards and you couldn't help but feel like there were things that weren't spoken. You bit your lip again, plugging your phone into its charger before deciding to sleep.

Yoo-mi trailed into her bedroom, seeing you staring at your phone wistfully. She crawled up to you, wrapping her legs around your waist as she sat behind you. Placing her chin on your shoulder, she spoke, "what's up?"

"I feel like I'm lying to them," you admitted. You felt Yoomi give a little nod as you continued. "Lying to him. We just made up and I feel like I'm going to ruin it."

"You won't ruin anything," Yoomi denied. She disconnected herself from you before laying down, pulling you with her. You laid face-to-face now, her lamp allowing a small glow to light up the room. "Promise. Let's sleep now — we have a movie night with the gremlins tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Yoo."

"Sleep well, Y/N."

—

"Movie night! Movie night! Movie night!"

Minho sighed, rubbing at his temples as his band mates and your best friend continued to chant. They were beyond excited — ecstatic; animated; overjoyed; whatever. They were loud and Minho was getting annoyed.

You let out a giggle before deciding to speak up for his sake. "Guys can you, perhaps, calm down?"

"Y/N. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," Jisung chided in faux disappointment. He clicked his tongue before walking up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders comfortably. "It's your first movie night with us! We're allowed to be a little excited!"

"A little?" Seungmin nagged to himself. Minho looked at him, nodding in agreement. You let out another laugh — the night hadn't begun yet and you were enjoying it so much already. Jisung's arm was pushed off of your shoulders abruptly, someone else replacing him.

"That's enough of that," Hyunjin muttered. You raised an eyebrow, looking at him curiously. Hyunjin grinned, using the arm that was wrapped around you to lead you to the couch. "Sit beside me, alright?"

Jisung scoffed to himself, "as if you gave her a choice." Hyunjin only scowled at him.

"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" Jeongin asked, already eating the candy he picked out. Chan was beside him doing the same thing — they're going to run out of snacks and complain, you thought.

Felix raised his hand, "I chose last time. So that means..." Everyone paused to look around the room. Your eyes settled on Yoo-mi as she grinned smugly, hand already on the remote. Changbin groaned, "oh, no!"

"It's been a while," Yoo-mi sighed dreamily as the first Descendants movie intro played. She leaned her head on your left shoulder, watching the screen blissfully.

You blinked, "it hasn't even been a day, Yoo."

"At least it's the first one," Hyunjin shrugged from your right. "It has been a while for that one. I think I have the second one memorized."

Yoomi began humming along to the movie — Hyunjin leaned over you slightly to look at her. His eyebrows furrowed, head tilting curiously before he settled against the couch again. You held your breath as your thoughts went into overdrive — he knows something, he has to.

Fingers wrapped around your hand gently, pulling you from your thoughts. Hyunjin shuffled in his seat, clearing his throat before looking at you shyly. You smiled at him, squeezing his hand and scooting a little closer. You felt Yoo-mi suck in a large breath before she leaned into your left side entirely.

"If you sing along and they happen to hear you," Yoomi whispered in your ear. You held your breath as she continued, "it's not breaking contract. You didn't tell them anything. Technically."

A loophole — Yoomi found a loophole because she knew you didn't like lying to them. The relief almost brought tears to your eyes. You looked at her as she moved away, smiling at the grin she was giving you.

So, when Dove Cameron popped up to sing If Only, you didn't hesitate to sing along.

Jisung was the first one to look in your direction, covering his mouth in shock. You could tell he was smiling, though, by his puffed cheeks and crinkling eyes. Shining eyes that said one thing — I'm proud of you. Slowly, all of the boys looked from a grinning Yoomi to you — all varying degrees of awe and joy.

The movie was forgotten as Hyunjin finally looked at you, mouth parted slightly. The scene changed and the actress stopped singing — you stopping with her. He let out a breath, "it was you? You- you were singing for Mimi?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you pulled Hyunjin up by your intertwined hands, leading him to the kitchen so you could have some privacy. Silence danced between the two of you before you broke it. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I couldn't. We weren't— aren't allowed to let anyone know."

"I get it," Hyunjin shook his head. He held both of your hands now, lifting them so they hovered between you both gently. "I'm not upset. Just... shocked, I guess. Not only are you pretty and an amazing songwriter — you also have one of the most stunning voices I've ever heard."

You let out a sharp, flattered laugh. Taking a leap of faith, you met Hyunjin's eyes and allowed yourself to speak. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Hyunjin was taken aback — blinking owlishly and ignoring the pigment that was settling onto his cheeks. "Uh— yeah! Yeah, I'll be your boyfriend. I was— I was going to ask you out, actually."

"No, he wasn't."

"He's a coward."

You looked to the entrance of the kitchen, seeing all of your friends peeking in. Shaking your head, you laughed at Hyunjin's horrified expression. "Could we have some time alone?" He choked out.

There was a chorus of everyone saying, "no". You chuckled again.

"Besides," Jisung began. He looked to the side, nose in the air as he tried to act cool. "I'm Y/N's favorite boy. I knew she could sing before any of you did — I deserve to know who she's dating, too."

Hyunjin looked at you, appalled. You only shrugged before kissing his cheek.

—  TAGLIST:   @mochibabycakes​ ; @hannahdinse8​ ; @jisungievibes​ ; @jinnieshyunnie​ ; @hannieluvclub​ ; @julex-s​ ; @hyunjpgin​ ; @moloprint​ ; @straykits​ ; @http-hxn​

hello? anyone there? we only have a few parts left!! let me know what you guys thought — thank you for reading, ♡♡

[leotssukinaga]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Summary: Based on It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Taylor Swift. You and Kenma are childhood friends, but something else has been blooming for a long time. Word Count: 2113 A/N: I was gonna put this song on the songfic list, but I already knew I wanted to write it for Kenma so I didn’t. Finally got round to that. Also can y’all tell he’s my favourite character to write dksdg Warnings: Alcohol and drinking.

It's been like this for as long as you can remember, even after he started playing volleyball Kenma always walks you home. In middle school you'd sit in on practice, walking home with him afterwards, and he'd often stay for dinner at your parents behest. Now you're in high school there's no need since you only live 5 minutes from Nekoma's campus. He walks you home anyway. There are many things Kenma will never admit to you, the first being that he doesn't actually have an extra ten minutes before practice, he just doesn't mind rushing if it means he knows you're safe. You'd spent the first year of high school insisting that you'd get home fine on your own, or that you didn't mind waiting, but he never listened to you. He had time, he said, and nothing about his tone suggested that it was a lie. It was, but Kuroo never teased him too much for his sacrifice (or at least if he did, Kenma just tuned him out.) Tonight though, there's no practice, and the setter waits at his desk for you to pack up once class ends. He knows you always take a moment, the array of coloured pens you use (because notes should be colour coded to make studying easier, you’d insisted in your second year of middle school) take time to put away. You tuck the note he'd passed you earlier into your pocket. You always keep them. He doesn't know that. The smile he gives you as he holds a hand out to carry your bag is barely visible, but it's certainly there, and warmth spreads through your chest at the sight. 

Snow swirls around you, settling in your hair and on your lashes as your rummage through your bag for your hat and gloves. Kenma can't stop himself from staring at you, the light reflecting off the half melted flakes giving you an ethereal glow. If you weren't half freezing to death, he'd want to stay like this forever. Your cheeks are rosy from the cold as you triumphantly wave your hat around, but your grin soon fades as you realise your gloves are nowhere to be found. Kenma doesn't say a word as he removes one of his, placing it in your hand. He's refusing to make eye contact, and given the weather it's hard to tell whether the red on his cheeks is a blush or not. You know better than to argue, slipping the glove onto your right hand and thanking him quietly. 

As the two of you reach your street, you notice a pair of colourful cat ears on a patch of ground untouched by snow. Your neighbours 6 year old had been drawing on the sidewalk this morning when you left for school, the weather having changed unexpectedly, and you pouted a little knowing her lovely drawing would be ruined. Kenma's features turned puzzled as you ran to the spot, kicking the snow away and grinning when you realised the drawing hadn't been too affected by the snow. He watched in confused amusement as you snapped a few pictures of it and emailed them to your printer. "Why?" "I thought it would be a nice thing to give to her. She's only little, she must've been devastated when she realised it would be washed away." There are many things Kenma will never admit to you, and the second is that moments like this- where you do things just for the sake of being kind, where you smile at him and explain your kindness like it's the most obvious thing in the world- are the moments he lives for. He'd give up video games to see you like this one more time. The snow is coming down heavier as you reach your front door, and you pull him under the portico to protect him. "Wanna hang out?" "Yeah, sounds like fun." Your smile is as radiant as ever as you insert the key into the lock, calling out for your parents once the door is shut behind the two of you. One day he hopes he'll walk through the front door of your own shared house, or that it will be your kids calling for you as you prepare dinner together, but at the moment it seems like nothing more than a pipe dream. For now, he's content with what you have, building things in Minecraft, kicking his ass at Mariokart, logging into Elder Scrolls Online together after practice. In the summer you could occasionally coax him outdoors, although the closest you'd gotten him to indulging in your love of camping was a tent in your back garden. (He hadn't liked it, but you were so happy he couldn't complain, and waking up in that close proximity to you had made his heart swell.) He stays the night, the snow far too heavy for him to make it home, and around 3am you roll over to face him. "Hey Kenma?" "Yeah?" "Its nice to have a friend." "Yeah, it is." The glow of your alarm clock illuminates your faces enough to make the smile you share visible. It’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep. 

When college rolls around, it surprises nobody that you'd picked the same one. Even if you hadn't made a conscious decision to go together, you've always been synchronised. Two sides of the same coin, your parents had commented more than once. Your smile had been contagious when you announced that you got in, and he'd seemed genuinely energetic for once as he announced that he had too. 

Neither of you are much for parties, too many people and definitely too much noise, but that doesn’t mean you can't have your own fun. He'd been confused and a little apprehensive when you'd pulled him up the stairs and onto the roof, but it soon became clear what you'd planned out. Several bottles of alcohol sit in the centre of the large picnic blanket that's stretched over the concrete surface of the rooftop, both of your Switches, a few board games and, of course, Uno neatly arranged next to them. A bluetooth speaker softly plays a mix of both your favourite songs, and a grin spreads across his oft emotionless face as he takes it all in. It's his idea of the ideal party- one with nobody but you- and the look on your face tells him you knew that. "What d'you want to drink?" "Whatever you're having..." You hand him a bottle of something blue, and he's surprised at the sweetness when he takes a sip. "So, 20 questions or Uno?" "Why not both?" "I knew you were secretly a genius." 

He admits, once the alcohol has made its way into his system a little more, that the stress has been piling up recently, that he really needed this to unwind, that you always seem to know exactly how to fix things even just for a moment. He attempts to retracts the statement once you kick his ass at Uno, but the way you giggle makes his heart beat and the way your lips glisten with the stray drop of vodka that lingers after you take a sip brings back the years of daydreams he's had about kissing you. The sky is turning pink, but the late hour doesn't matter anymore, not when you're in your twenties and you don't have class tomorrow. "Its pretty like this." "Yeah, you are." "Hm?" "Uh- nothing. The sky is nice." You decide to let it slide.  "Yeah, it's a really good colour. I think it might be one of my favourites..." There are many things Kenma will never admit- the third being what he’s thinking right now- that his favourite colour is the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyes shine in the light, the colour of your lips between your teeth when you're nervous. That if he had to pick a favourite colour it would simply be you. He doesn't know when he got the courage to put his hand on yours, but you haven't moved it away, and the smile on your face as you take in the sunset tells him you don't have an issue.  "Hey, Y/N?" "Yeah?" "Its nice to have a friend." He mirrors your words from a few years ago, the meaning behind it deeper than before. You grin, pink and purple illuminating your beauty, and after 15 years of knowing you he's found no evidence that you aren't an angel. He doubts there is any. "Yeah, it is."

It's always been like this, you smiling at Kenma and him smiling back- a smile that nobody else gets to see. Today, everyone sees it, though it's meant only for you. He leans in to whisper to you as you reach him, tears in both your eyes, and though the wedding is small the love and joy you feel from everyone in the room is overwhelming. When you were 10 and he invited you over for the first time to play Zelda on his gamecube, neither of you could imagine a future where you got married at all, let alone to each other. In high school, when you showed up to his games with a red number five on a sign and his spare jacket tied round your waist (when did you steal that?) he could only dream of a day like this. There are many things Kenma had thought he’d never admit, and now he wanted to tell you all of them. Starting with the fact that your first kiss, the first time he told you he loved you, the night you fell asleep with your head in his lap- none of them could compare to how he felt right now, looking at you on your wedding day.

Bells ring behind you as white confetti gathers on the ground, and from a distance it would almost look like it was snowing. You pose for photos for what feels like hours, every possible combination and location exhausted. The reception is as beautiful as the ceremony, though far less refined, and you've just sat down next to Kenma to take a break when Kuroo pulls you to your feet, insisting it's tradition to dance with the best man. You both know it's a lie, but you've been putting up with his antics for long enough to know that your better off just rolling with it. "I've never seen Kenma smile this much, you know." "Me neither, actually." "Its because of you." "I'm glad I make him happy." "Does he make you happy?" "D'you think I'd have married him if he didn't?" "Thats the right answer."

Kenma insists on carrying you into your apartment, despite the exhaustion visible on his face, and you kiss his cheek gently as he closes the door. You make your way to the kitchen to make tea, and you don't notice him behind you until he's tickling your sides, grinning at your giggles. "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't stop!" "You don't mean that." "I do!" "Prove it." He keeps going, and you eventually concede. You'd never kick him out of bed, even if he was being a little shit right now. This playful side of Kenma didn't come out too often- but you adored when it did. You reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. It's mostly black now, and tied back as usual. It suits him, you think, as you cup his cheek and kiss him with all the tenderness in the world. 

The next morning starts with light flooding through your curtains and your husbands arms around you. You can feel him gently kissing your shoulder as you reach down to take his hand in your own. "Morning babe..." "Morning love." You turn around to face him, eerily reminiscent of a night all those years ago. The smile on his face is the same as it had been then. Being this close to him feels like home. "Let's stay in bed today." "I like the sound of that." You know that when it comes down to it, you'll always have him. You wouldn't want it any other way. There are many things Kenma thought he would never admit, many secrets he now wants to spill to you and nobody else, but the one thing he wants to tell anybody who’ll listen- is just how much he loves you. "Hey Kenma?" "Yeah?" "Its nice to have a friend." "Yeah." He brings your hand up to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on each of your fingers, pausing with his lips on your wedding ring. "Yeah, it is." 

taglist: @tremendousglitterthing​ @svtbitch​ @the-fandom-ness​ @atsumumu​ (I ACTUALLY REMEMBERED THIS TIME)

[softbiker]

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: mentions of character death, cursing, haunting, spooky stuff, angst

Word count: 7.1k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a man out of time. He knows more ghosts than people. One of his ghosts has come home. 

A/N: This is waaaay longer than I normally write, but I just wanted to do it justice. This is my submission for @barnesrogersvstheworld​ AYAOTD writing challenge! Sort of an Endgame AU, also features an appearance from a rather obscure Marvel comics character. The prompt I had was “Don’t look behind you.” - it’s highlighted in bold. This is also really sad. I’m sorry for that...but please let me know what you think! 

His tastes have changed.

Most people wouldn’t have known that - wouldn’t have seen anything abnormal about a 100+ year old man reaching for minute oatmeal and Folgers at the grocery store. There had been a few articles, before, in health or men’s interest magazines, about the ‘Super Soldier Diet’. They were much more colorful than this - full of sugary cereals and peanut butter and seasonal frappuccinos. The articles always ended with reminders that a normal human should reach for more nutritious foods.

Steve pulls his oats - plain, made with water, no sweetener - from the microwave, and stirs just a little. Not thick enough; he replaces the bowl and adds another 30 seconds to the microwave timer. On the counter, the Mr. Coffee drips away, slowly filling the pot.

He eats quietly, perched on a stool at the island; he never uses the table anymore. A few news highlights appear in the notifications on his phone, and he scrolls through them, eyes scanning as he spoons his tasteless breakfast into his mouth.

New York Nears Completion of Relocation Program he reads, letting his thumb swipe down to read more of the article.

“Almost three years after the globally devastating event in which Earth’s population was reduced by half, the people of New York City are finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel in their relocation efforts for residents whose homes were damaged or destroyed in the aftermath of the Decimation. The project, one of the last proposals by Tony Stark before his retirement from the Department of Damage Control, is expected to end-”

He closes his phone.

**********

There are three support group meetings that he attends each week - two as a leader, one as a participant.

“You should come, Nat.” He’s a broken record, but he just keeps spinning. Like the planet, like the solar system. If he falls out of orbit- “Just once. You might be surprised…”

“Some of us still have jobs, Steve.” She raises a still perfect eyebrow, now back to its natural red. He finds a little comfort in that.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Maybe not. But don’t wait up for me.”

The Tuesday meeting is the hardest, though it was the first one he ever lead. It caters to a specific group, a group that looks to him because...well, because he lost what they lost. He wonders if they know, if they realize, that it’s all his fault.

“Jackie was...she was my rock, you know?” The new woman, Elsie, sniffs as she continues. “We went through a lot together, and I remember thinking all that time ‘God, what would I do without her?’ And now I know the answer - spiral and-and become an alcoholic.”

“You can’t blame yourself for all of that.” Steve shakes his head. “There was so much more going on - the world was practically in flames, and you were trying to cope. What matters is that you’re here now, trying to get better.”

Elsie is nodding, accepting a tissue from the man sitting next to her. She gives a shaky little smile and settles back in her chair, done sharing for now. Steve glances around the circle, waiting for someone else to speak up.

It was such an odd reversal for him, especially at first. When he first wandered into one of Sam’s support group meetings, he had felt out of place and alone - and that feeling was exactly why he belonged in a place like that. Sam could see it. It was one of his gifts; he was better at reading people than anyone Steve knew, except maybe Natasha. Even when Bucky came along, and Sam played the tough act, he could see all of that fear and pain, and knew exactly what to do with it. Over the years they were in hiding, Sam would secretly reach out to Bucky - during their visits in Wakanda, Steve found the two of them sitting at the lake behind Bucky’s hut and talking, low and intense.

“You know, sometimes-” It’s a man on the opposite side of the circle, dark-skinned with a greying beard. “I don’t know about all of you, but sometimes...I wonder if they can see us. If they know what we’re doing. Does that make any sense?”

He gets a few nods and murmurs from the group, so he goes on.

“I mean, after my old man died, my mom used to say he was watching over me.” He swallows thickly. “She was on her own, tucking a 9-year-old boy in at night, and telling me that Daddy could see me from heaven, that he was looking out for me. And I just think....well, I wanna know - where are they? Are they in heaven? Is that even possible?”

He turns to Steve, several of the people in the circle do. It’s always like this - whenever the sessions turn to specific questions or musings about what happened, they look to him. Because shouldn’t he know? He had lead them, he failed them, he was there when their lives went up in dust.

“Well, I don’t think I’m qualified to offer religious advice,” he starts with a rueful smile. “And, from everything I’ve seen, I don’t think we even know what’s possible. All I know is, we can’t live in the past...even if they see us, wherever they are, we have to accept that they’re really...gone.” He crossed his arms. “They’re not here with us anymore.”

The group has gone quiet, reflective. Most are staring at their hands rather than him, each lost in their own haze of memory and ashes. He wishes he could offer them more, but he knows grief like this, and Steve Rogers is honest to a fault - he won’t lie, even for the sake of comfort.

“We’re on our own now.”

**********

He goes for runs alone now.

No Bucky to keep up with him, pushing the pace and trying to trip him. No Sam to complain about his hamstrings and insist on coffee afterwards. Not even music on those weird tiny headphones she had gotten him. Just his sneakers and pavement and the sound of his own breath. Sometimes he hated that - how he never got winded anymore, never sounded hurt and tired, the way he would wheeze through his asthma attacks with Bucky holding him up and reminding him how to pull in air. The machine of his body was too efficient for that.

In his apartment, he takes short showers, cold and fast, like in the Army. The soap is blue, with a generic smell that is clean and reminds him of nothing. He turns and tilts his head back under the spray, allowing a few more seconds to rinse and-

He nearly jumps when a burst of heat runs down his back.

The water has suddenly turned hot, a steamy, balmy, sultry hot that turns his soft Irish skin pink. He had never had this problem with his showers before - never run out of cold water certainly. Maybe something was wrong with the…

When he turned around, he saw the hot water knob turning slowly clockwise, centimeter by centimeter, untouched.

He shut off the water and got out.

**********

“I’m gonna have to call a plumber sometime.”

“Oh yeah? I thought all you old guys were handymen.”

“Ha ha.” He watches Nat scoop some spaghetti into bowls for the two of them. “I was the artist type. Not really handy around the house.”

“Guess that means Barnes was wearing the pants?” She’s smirking, and he feels like he’s seeing the real Nat again, so he goes along with the joke.

“How could he not? Who’s gonna let a 90-pound asthmatic wear the pants?”

“So what’s wrong with your plumbing?” Nat peeks over the fridge door as she grabs some parmesan and a bottle of wine. Steve, under strict orders not to help, is watching from the kitchen table.

“It’s my shower, something happened the other day. The water turned hot while I was in the middle of showering, even though I had it turned cold.”

“Hm. Weird.”

Steve comes out here at least once a month, or as often as he can. He sees the way that Natasha would rather slip into her work, lose herself in the business of holding the pieces of the world together, let go of her own life. The pantry, open and visible from where he’s sitting, is stocked with the bare minimum dry goods and canned foods; the fridge isn’t much better. He’s seen her on missions, seen her at home in her mismatched socks; he knows that she’d barely feed herself, surviving on a sandwich a day, if the thought or the hunger struck her. So he comes and threatens to cook and she saves the compound from being burned down by making a meal for the two of them.

It’s a far cry from normal. From pizza nights with Sam and Wanda at the compound, the two of them taking turns introducing Steve to movies he missed - all the “classics” he hadn’t heard of. They were missing their monthly family dinners, too; Tony always made room in his schedule to attend, dragging Pepper along from the office, and Steve sat at the head of their long dining table watching this strange, funny little family he had share and eat and laugh with each other.

Now he sits across from Natasha at a table otherwise occupied by her scattered files and reports, a pair of pointe shoes laying in the chair next to her. He didn’t come often enough to expect her to clean for him. She had enough on her plate.

“You know, I was talking to Carol last week,” Nat says, twirling her pasta around her fork. “And she said she might make it to visit us next month. It’ll depend on that trafficking case she was working in the Pegasus galaxy.” She shrugs a little.

“That’s good.” Steve chews, sips his wine. “It would be nice to see her.”

They don’t talk much throughout their meal; there isn’t much new to share. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall of the compound, Steve watches the early sunset fall over the grounds, shadows reaching and reaching, as quiet as it was empty.

**********

Sometimes, sometimes, when he’s feeling more stupid than usual, he opens the drawer.

That drawer. The lower one in his bedside table. With her box inside.

The box isn’t really anything special - just plain black, with her name written on the top. He got it at the suggestion of the team’s - his - therapist, Dr. Rajan. She recommended that putting some things away, rather than leaving them around his room, might help him move on, realize that his life had changed. He thought about putting the compass in the box, too, but it felt wrong. She wouldn’t want that in there. Somehow it mostly ends up in his pocket, and he stares at it from time to time, at the picture inside, thinking about words like should have and what if.

He’s staring at the drawer now, remembering the night before, when he thought about getting the box after he shuffled in from support group. When he was halfway through his flask of that Asgardian shit he kept under the bed. Steve had shuffled out of his clothes and fallen asleep in his underwear instead, flask still clutched in his hand, just sober enough to turn down the bad idea.

So why was the drawer open?

**********

“Have you thought about getting back out there? Dating again?”

His laugh is humorless.

“Doc, come on. I think we both know I’m not the type.”

“All we know is that you’re a serial monogamist.” She smiles. “And a very eligible one.”

“Sure, but…” Steve pauses, rubbing his palms against his jeans. He looks around the office, trying to find something to focus on. “I feel lucky...really lucky, to have had the kind of love I got. I mean, I never really expected to have it, not after I woke up in this century. And then, with her, it just sort of happened so naturally...well, lightning never strikes twice, as the saying goes.”

“It seems like, for you at least, it did,” Dr. Rajan raises her brows. “Two great loves in one lifetime? More rare than lightning.”

He runs a hand through his hair, still long on the top.

“I-I guess so. But it won’t strike a third time.”

“Because you’re not going to give it a chance?”

“You know me too well, doc.” His smile is apologetic, kind.

**********

At night, he sweats through dreams of her. His legs tangle in sheets where they used to twist and curl around her. The pillows smell only of him, his blue generic soap, but in his mind, locked somewhere far and sweet, her scent fills the air. Fills him up until he tastes it.

He tastes her, too, in dreams; under him, around him, pressed close in that intimate haze only lovers can know. Her lips chase his and smile into his mouth, following the curve of his jaw as he tucks his own face into her neck. It’s in his veins now, her smell and taste, ripe and alive on his tongue and oh, he’s swimming in it. She sighs, blissful, and sinks her teeth into that spot at the base of his throat-

Bedsheets fly off him as he bolts upright in bed, chest heaving, the sweat rolling in little beads down his temple. The smell is fading, drifting away from the room even as he tries to hold on to it; she was here, right here, and it had all felt so real, having her in his arms again. But now he’s wading back to consciousness, unwillingly, the tide of his dream pulling away from the shore and tugging at his ankles, carrying her with it. He wants to drift out to sea on it, drown in it, never resurface in this half-empty world.

Always so dramatic, Rogers.

Something nags at the corner of his eye, and he turns to the bedside table. In the pre-dawn light of the window, he can see the second drawer open. Her box is pulled forward to the front of the drawer with its lid propped up, asking, begging to be seen. He feels himself almost chasing the tide, diving back in as he leans over the side of his bed…

He slams the drawer shut.

Steve blows a harsh breath past his lips and swings his legs out of bed, tugging the sheet from between his thighs. His bare feet brush the cold wood and he arches up on his toes, tight muscles protesting the stretch. Palms scrub at his heavy eyes, brushing away what he can of his sleep. He has no plans to go back to bed, not now. He’ll just get an early start on his run. Maybe put in a few extra miles. He runs a hand through his hair, fingernails scratching absently at his scalp.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he turns the cold water tap in the sink and splashes his face a few times, feeling the two-day stubble on his cheeks. The shave can wait until after his run, he thinks. He stands straighter and reaches for the towel next to the sink, patting his face dry - he leaves his eyes closed, buried in the cotton for a moment before meeting his own gaze in the mirror. Immediately his eyes are drawn down to - what the hell is that?

At the base of his neck, just where it meets his shoulder, is a small red mark. A love bite. He presses it with a finger and hisses at the tenderness of the skin. Unbidden, the wave of his dream crashes over him, rolling him under, and he can almost feel her lips again…

The hair on the back of his neck and arms is standing straight up, his body gone cold all over. He thinks, maybe, he should go back to bed after all. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he hears his own name. What if...what if she’s waiting for me? He almost turns around, almost looks at the rumpled bed, almost expects her to be in it, rolling over in that tangled mess and smiling past the curve of her shoulder…

He yanks on a hoodie and running pants, toeing into his sneakers without socks, and leaves the apartment unlocked. Hardly knowing it, he clocks 50 miles, the sun high overhead before he can force his legs to stop, even his enhanced muscles starting to twitch. His sweat is still cold.

**********

There’s a memorial. Lots of them, actually.

All the major cities have at least one, and New York has built theirs, unsurprisingly, in Memorial Park. It’s huge, a sprawling garden of sculpture installations covered overhead by a soft white canopy. A retaining wall, approximately 3 feet high, lines the garden beds and holds in the dark rubber mulch, its outer white brick etched with the names of the lost. Even Steve could admit that it was beautiful, and so different from the solemn obelisks and walls of names he had expected when the memorial was announced.

The city had commissioned a team of artists, led by the famous Chihuly, to create blown glass sculptures using...well, as much of the collected ashes of decimated people as they could. “Cremation glass” it was called. The concept was morbid; though symbolically beautiful, most hadn’t imagined a stunning art gallery, more suited to the Met than this mass grave of the unknown.

Steve was there when it was dedicated, as was Tony. He was asked to say a few words, and he did; he has no idea, now, what he read from those cards handed to him by the administrative team. A black suit stretched around his shoulders, no shield in sight, his tie more like a noose as he watched the somber faces of the attendees. Loved ones and friends of people he had failed. A living memorial. Tony stood next to him, year-old wedding band still shining as he crossed his hands in front of him and declined to speak.

There are a few locations he has memorized around the park, the Lost Garden, as it has been named. A blooming blue hydrangea bush, sculpted white flowers and leaves pressed between the green, with the name “James B. Barnes” carved a few inches below. Across from it, red and yellow globes hang from a white tree, the round shadows falling over “Samuel Wilson”. Two rows over, an exploding tower of tangled green and blue spirals, surrounded by bushes, guards the name “Wanda Maximoff”.

Hers is carved neatly - block letters, plain font - into the white brick near the entrance of the memorial. Above it, a cherry blossom tree blooms sweetly, the pink flowers joined by purple and pink glass stems sprouting up from the ground around the trunk of the tree. Soft green bushes hem in the sculpture, as though keeping the glass from growing too far. It’s whimsical, charming. Elegant.

He fucking hates it.

He hates how this is meant to honor her - the vibrancy of her memory, the slyness of her smile, the passion of her love, the ferocity of her anger. She was more solid and real and hard than the delicate stems of glass that stood for her now. It wasn’t even her ashes in there anyway - he knows that for certain. He knows because he felt her drift through his hands under a hot Wakandan sun. He had watched the dust float and settle and knew that all the parts of her he kissed and held were under his feet and in his mouth and Jesus God it made him want to scream.

He doesn’t know whose ashes are here, in the glass above her name. But he wants to smash it. Put a fist through it. Hear that tinkling glass shatter on the ground the way she did. It would only be right.

As he stands there, staring at the falling cherry blossoms scattered around the sculpture, he feels the air go cold around him. His whole body breaks out in goosebumps and the little hairs on the back of his neck start prickling. He shudders, looking around, but no one else is nearby. It’s a late spring day, warm and getting warmer, with the sun beaming through scattered clouds. He shouldn’t be shivering.

The wind picks up, light breeze growing stronger, and the long stalks of glass begin to vibrate. A low hum builds as the wind carves its way between the sculptures, a plaintive, lonely noise that he feels low in his belly.

Steve…

He whips his head around, looking up and down the row, but he’s alone - no one else is here. That whisper, his name, it was so close…

Steeeeve

He’s turning a full circle, looking for a microphone or a drone or something tiny like Scott’s suit.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Stevie …

A cloud of cherry blossoms billows into his face, making him jump back. The chill sinks through his skin, slips down his spine bone by bone with each breath. His heart is hammering hard and fast. That name, that voice - it’s been three years. They’re gone. It’s not possible. He closes his eyes as he feels a presence close beside him, right at his shoulder, and he knows, he knows if he turns his head she’ll be-

“Captain Rogers? You alright?”

He jumps again, startled, and looks over to see a policeman watching him, eyes wary and concerned. The officer was young, like all of them now - mass recruiting in public services has been going on for a couple of years, with things nearly falling into chaos after...everything. The military, the police, trying to swell their numbers enough with what was left of the population to keep the world in check. Not like the Avengers were doing a very good job.

“Captain?” The young officer asks again, inching a half-step towards Steve. His hand, unconsciously, twitches towards his radio.

“I’m fine - really,” Steve shakes his head and offers a smile. “Everything’s fine. Just...remembering someone.”

The kid nods; Steve wonders if he himself ever looked so young in a uniform.

“I understand.” He’s tugging at his uniform jacket. “My, uh, parents - they’re over there.” He points at a patch of lilies, not far from Wanda. “And my brother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he ever says these days. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Everyone pretends that it’s enough.

He walks the kid - the officer - back to his patrol car, shakes his hand; the boy has to crane his head back to look up at him, and he stares up at Steve like there’s still hope in this world. Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell him.

**********

The chill follows him into the summer. Even with the sun high and New York sweltering with heat, Steve shivers in his apartment, cold biting at him until he aches with it. He cranks the heat on his thermostat, yet still finds a harsh breeze blowing through his apartment somehow. He allows the shower faucet to continue turning hot - blistering hot, the way she liked it - now that this chill won’t let him go.

Despite that, he finds himself staying in more than ever. He was never exactly a social butterfly - Bucky could testify to that. It tumbles him into memory: Bucky, slicked-back hair and spit-shined shoes, a rose tucked into the lapel of his jacket; Bucky, chin thrown back and ready to laugh at the world, an arm around Steve’s shoulders as he drags them on yet another double date. “Ya gotta get out more, Rogers,” he’d say, cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I’m a piss-poor excuse for real company.”

The only people he sees now are Dr. Rajan and the members of his support groups. Occasionally Nat, but she’s been traveling more lately, following the crumbs of Clint’s trail. Their emails are few and far between, containing only the bare bones.

It’s a Friday night - or maybe it’s Saturday, Sunday. He sits on the edge of his bed, turning the little thing over in his hands. The compass stays in his pocket most days. He flips it open, stares at the portrait inside, the one he’s had memorized since ‘43. He could draw it with his eyes closed, probably.

Suddenly, the compass snaps shut, unbidden, in his hand. It shakes, the mechanisms inside rattling violently, and grows hot to the touch. He yelps and it falls from his palm, dropping to the floor between his feet. The skin of his hands is red, scalded, and he flexes his fingers, watching the trinket warily. It lies on the floor, perfectly still.

Behind him, he hears the second drawer of his dresser roll open.

**********

More dreams come to him, sweet ones, and he sinks into them without protest. He falls into his bed at night happily, searching for the smell of her somewhere behind his eyes. She’s always there, always smiling for him, reaching and pulling him further down into their own special hiding place. She’s there in her uniform, in her sweatpants, in his t-shirt, in nothing at all.

“C’mere, Stevie baby,” she nuzzles his nose, and he’s close to tears but he doesn’t know why. Then she’s tugging at his own clothes and he’s not thinking about it at all.

The ache in his throat returns when he wakes empty-handed and alone. Beneath his jaw, a line of hickeys leads down his neck and across his shoulder. His breath puffs in small clouds as he pants and tries not to cry.

**********

“You don’t look so good, Steve.” Nat’s tone is worried, her voice tight. She watches him stare at the wall with a cup of coffee in his massive hands. “Have you been sleeping?”

He nearly chuckles at that.

“A little too much, I think.” He goes quiet then, mouth turning back down, carved sadness in that larger-than-life face.

“I think...God, Nat,” Steve slumps forward, elbows on his knees. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Join the club.” She sits down next to him, sliding a soft hand across his back. Her voice is just above a whisper. “We’re all still struggling. You know that. You’ve seen it. Sometimes it feels...it feels like...you’re just holding on by a thread.”

He’s shaking his head before she finishes.

“Have you - do you dream about them? Ever?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean…” Steve rubs his eyes. “I mean...do the dreams feel...when you wake up, does it feel like it really happened.”

Nat frowns.

“I’m not following you, Steve.”

He sighs, heavy and resigned.

“No, I know. I’m not making any sense.” He leans into her embrace a little. He likes the contact of it. Hasn’t had that in a long time.

“Listen, Nat. I know S.H.I.E.L.D. used to keep a lot of records of...enhanced individuals…”

“Sure. Everyone that pinged on their radar,” she nods. “So, pretty much anyone with abilities.”

“I need to have a look at them.”

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Yes. But if I told you, you’d have me committed.”

“Yeah, that really makes me want to help you.” She leans her head against his shoulder, fingers squeezing his bicep. Her voice still soft and low. “Tell me what you need.”

**********

They meet in a public place. It’s not hard now, with the world half-dead, to go about their business as though they are two men with nothing to hide. A bright, hot July sun beats on their heads, and Steve adjusts his sunglasses as a bead of sweat slides down his neck. On the street, traffic grumbles along, bikers and street vendors and tourists darting between. The hard metal chair of the café presses into the soft underside of his knees, leaving little dents in his skin.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Captain,” the man across from him smiles. The white symbol on his forehead stands out starkly against his dark skin. “I understand we move in different circles.”

They’re sitting outside a small restaurant in Port-au-Prince, only coffee on the table in front of them. The heat is sweltering, oppressive, different from the New York heat that Steve knows. Part of him wishes they were near the beach, with the wind coming off the ocean. She would have begged him to go to the beach.

“That we do,” Steve raises his eyebrows. “Even with everything that’s happened, aliens, Thanos...things like magic are still...hard to believe.”

“Hm.” Jericho Drumm leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers. “I think you are here because...it’s not so hard anymore, yes?”

He grits his teeth. There are fingernail scratches on his back and they chafe against the sweaty cotton of his shirt.

“You’re a smart man, Jericho,” he sighs. “And I think you might be the only person who can help me.”

Jericho Drumm nods.

“Yes, I think so, too.”

According to the S.H.I.E.L.D. files Steve spent all his free time digging through, there were only a few enhanced individuals with supernatural abilities. And now half of them were gone. Some, like the sorcerer Tony told him about, had managed to stay under the radar for thousands of years. With precious little to go on besides an alias, Steve commandeered a quinjet and packed a bag for Haiti.

“What you are asking me...communication with the spirits…” Jericho shakes his head. “It’s not what you think. Or what it looks like in the movies.”

“Then tell me,” Steve presses, leaning his elbows on the table. His coffee is half full. He can see his reflection in the oily surface of it.

“I’ve served as a houngan for many years; I’ve served as Sorcerer Supreme. In fact, with Stephen Strange gone, they may ask me to serve again. But inviting spirits into this world is a dangerous practice - not white magic.”

“But it can be done?”

Jericho narrows his eyes. The white streak in his hair is bright in the noonday sun.

“When Thanos tore a rift in this world, in this universe,” he speaks slowly, choosing his words with careful consideration. “He tore through the other side as well. The things he’s done affect us all, the living and the dead. It is possible, the things you describe, are caused by this. A ripple effect, if you will. A door not closed.”

“A ripple.”

“Yes. However,” Drumm raises a finger, leaning forward to speak in a low voice. “I will say something else. I may have years of experience with the supernatural, but I studied psychology as well. My time in America was mostly in a university, studying the human mind, how it works…” He pauses for a moment, giving Steve a look that is on the suspicious side of apologetic. “Our minds are powerful. When a person wishes for things, even terrible things, the mind can give them what they seek.”

Steve closes his eyes, jaw tightening.

“Believe me, I know how I sound,” he sighs. “I know. My therapist says the same thing. But if anyone’s going to believe me, it’s you. This is not in my mind.” His fingers are shaking and he curls them into fists. “This is real. She’s...it’s real. It’s her.” Haunting me.

Dr. Drumm nods, sympathetic and quiet. He watches this captain, this legend, the age showing in his young man’s body. With the sunglasses propped up on his head, the dark circles beneath Steve’s puffy eyes are on full display. His shoulders curl in, posture defensive, small. His knee bounces under the table, and his jaw ticks every so often, teeth clicking in his mouth. There is a bruise visible at the base of his neck where the collar of his shirt has shifted to one side.

“Very well, Captain. I will do my best to help you.”

**********

He sits cross-legged on the tile floor of the bathroom, surveying the items in front of him. According to Dr. Drumm, he would need only a few candles, items that belonged to her, a circle of salt to protect himself. Incense, too, burning in the corner, the smell of sage and smoke floating around him. The lights are off, only the flickering candles illuminating the room.

He feels a little silly, setting all of this up. When he was a boy, vampires and werewolves and ghosts were all just stories - hiding under the covers with Bucky and scaring themselves silly. No real monsters hid under his bed. All of that came later.

Under his shirt, the amulet rests against his chest, growing warm with his own body heat.

“If you must do this alone as you insist,” Jericho had said, shaking his head. “Then wear this. Bene gris-gris. It is the best I can do to protect you from dark magic.” His steel grip closed around Steve’s arm. “And this may be a dark thing, Captain. Her coming back to you. It doesn’t feel like white magic.”

Steve had only nodded, his hand closing around the amulet. He was beyond light and dark now, beyond counting costs. He had chased ghosts for so long after he woke up. It’s only right for him to chase her, too.

Here, in the bathroom, toes pressed to cold tile, he digs two more items out of his pockets. Dr. Drumm said to bring something that would ground him to himself, something special. He turns the compass over in his hand, flicks it open, and sets it on the edge of the circle. From the other pocket, he fishes a black velvet box. His fingers twitch, feeling the soft fabric; he doesn’t want to open it. He hasn’t opened it, since he took the ring off their nightstand in Wakanda and put it back in the box. She hadn’t worn it - didn’t like wearing it on missions or in fights. Afraid of scratching it. She had wiggled it off her finger, smiling at him, leaving a kiss on his bearded jaw-

He leaves the box closed for now, and places it in the center next to the other tokens - a photo of her, a necklace with a small silver pendant she used to wear whenever they went on dinner dates, a little jar of seashells from a beach vacation she took in college. All the little things he had packed away in that nightstand drawer. Memories he had put into storage.

Safe inside his little circle, he reaches in his shirt and grabs the amulet tight in his fist. He closes his eyes. Breathes deep the incense and soft curling smoke from his candles.

He says her name softly in the dark.

In his mind, he shifts his awareness down the plane of his body, piece by piece. He learned meditation techniques during his therapy sessions; now he has another use for them. He says her name again.

“I want to speak to you.” He says, voice low, a lover’s intimacy. “I call on your spirit.”

Her name. Her name. Her name.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, curled on the floor, but the chant of her name lulls him into a trance. His eyes are half-open, the candles wavering in front of him, casting long shadows on the walls. He licks his lips, calls her name again.

One by one, the candles snuff out.

He goes quiet. Smoke curls up to his nose, but he can’t see - the only light is coming from underneath the bathroom door. That familiar chill trickles down the back of his neck, raising the hairs. His flesh is covered in goosebumps; his muscles tense up, coiled tight, ready to spring. His tongue lies dry and thick against his teeth.

“Hello?”

Steve?

He sighs her name. “Sweetheart, is that you?”

A cold breeze passes over his face, rumpling his shirt.

“Are you there?”

The compass flies up and smashes against the wall.

Steve…

Her voice is harsher. Sadder.

“Baby, please,” he’s begging now. He can feel how close she is, she’s in the room, he knows it like he knows his own body. Like he knew hers.

For the first 25 years of his life, he lived with asthma - any little trigger could set him aching for air, his lungs betraying their purpose and seizing up on him, his whole body trembling in relief when he managed to pull in oxygen. He feels that ache for her now - acute and sharp as it was the day he first lost her, a physical pain and its cure so close, so close, if she would only let him - let him breathe-

Oh, Steve.

“Honey, I’m here, I’m right here.” He stands in his little circle, spinning around, though he still sees nothing in the darkened bathroom. He feels the tip of his nose go numb in the frigid air, his body shivering slightly.

I’m here, too, Stevie.

“Where, baby? Where are you?” He’s desperate, so desperate. He’s going to cry if she doesn’t-

I’m here. Look.

He feels, thinks he feels, cold fingers brush down his cheek, and he turns. The mirror above the sink is frosted over, he can see it now that his eyes are adjusting to the pale dark, and he stumbles towards it. Pulls a sleeve down over his hand and wipes at the fog, the remains of his body heat melting it away in streaks.

“Oh...oh god.” He grips the edges of the sink.

Hi, baby.

There she is. There she is. Standing right behind him, over his shoulder. His eyes sweep over her face in the mirror, scanning the details he never forgot, not for a moment. Her lips quirk a sad little smile, tilting her head.

You don’t look so good, Rogers.

His laugh comes out as a sob, and he nods. Fingers curl tighter over the edge of the sink because it’s all that’s holding him up right now. In the reflection, he sees her take a step closer to him - feels her presence, her smell is right behind him and if he can just turn and take her in his arms then everything will be alright again…

NO DON’T!

The force of it is loud in his mind, sends him reeling forward against the sink. Her lips are trembling in a soft frown.

Don’t look behind you.

It sounds so soft. So sad. And he knows, knows in the marrow of his bones, that this is it, this is all they can have. This halfway, this inbetween, this ships in the night barely seen as they pass - it’s all he gets. All he has left.

He presses his hand to the cold glass of the mirror, tips of his fingers stroking the image of her face. His chin feels weak, jaw slack, his hip leaning against the sink. She’s crying, too, tears shining against her soft cheeks.

“Where are you? Do you know what’s happening?” He manages to ask. It’s the question, the question everyone would ask of their ghosts. She shakes her head a little.

I...I don’t really know. But I know I’m not with you.

He nods, tries to swallow around the thick lump in his throat.

Wherever I am, I’m not with you. And I miss you, Steve.

“I miss you - God, honey, I miss you so bad-” his breath hitches, and he wonders in the back of his mind if he’s going to have another asthma attack, his first in 70 years. “I-I need you, sweetheart. Jesus Christ, I miss you. I don’t know what I’m doing without you and-and-”

He’s hyperventilating, breaths stuttering in his chest. The hand that’s pressed to the mirror has gone numb with cold but he won’t move it, not if it’s the closest he comes to touching her face. He watches her come closer to him, behind him - her smell fills the room, no smoke, no incense, only her. His teeth are clattering in his mouth even as he tries to grit them together, lungs stuttering and he’s so so cold but he only half feels it; the muscles in his back jump and twitch as he feels her, really feels her, right behind him. And then-

I know, baby. I know.

Her forehead presses between his shaking shoulder blades. Icy hands creep up beneath his shirt, pressing right over his heart. Her arms lock around his ribs and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze - as if she could brand herself there. In the glass, Steve’s lips are blue and his sobbing breaths come out as little frozen clouds. The mirror is starting to frost over again; the goosebumps on his body won’t lie down. His eyes slip closed, tears chilling in their tracks on his cheeks, and he presses his hand over hers at his heart.

I’m right here.

The ache in his chest sharpens, then dulls, slow and familiar. Something he always carries. His breaths are slowing now, the trembling in his muscles calms a little. She traces a frozen circle over his heart.

I’m right here.

He sighs her name before he blacks out.

**********

Natasha watches Steve in his kitchen, her green eyes sharp and narrow. She hasn’t been to his apartment in a long time, but three days of no answered phone calls, texts, or emails and the Black Widow will investigate. He seems...fine. As fine as Steve has been since it all happened, when he went clean-shaven and cropped his hair, like girls do after a break-up. He smiles over his shoulder while stirring the pot in front of him.

“It’s the one thing my ma made sure I knew how to make for myself,” he says. “She knew I’d need this soup every time I got sick.”

“That’s sweet,” she says. And it is, though she’s never heard him mention it before.

They eat on barstools at the island, sharing little bits of conversation, small talk, mission updates. Sound bites of friendship. Still no explanation for his radio silence.

“Can I use your bathroom?” She sighs as he scoots back his stool, scooping up their bowls to take to the sink.

“Of course - you don’t have to ask, Nat.”

She slips down the hall. Doesn’t go to the bathroom - turns right instead.

On the floor of his bedroom, she sees the candles. The circle. The pictures. A little jar of seashells on his nightstand. While they were eating, she had seen something new - a little chain around his neck, the shape of something underneath, suspiciously like a ring.

Natasha leaves without saying a word, maybe hugs him a little tighter at the door.

She won’t begrudge him this.

[kihyunswrath]

This was not Wonho’s decision, and that’s why I’m fighting

At first I also believed Starship when they told everyone Wonho himself called the CEO’s and managers and whoever and made it clear he had decided to leave, but now that I know how Starship has been acting afterwards, I want you all to know that with 100% certainty, resigning was not what Wonho originally asked for. He might have been the one contacting his employers first, he might have been panicking, overreacting, crying and thinking that it’s over for him, but him wanting to resign in a matter of days? Nope. That’s not what happened. Starship kicked him out, silenced him, forced him out of his dorm room and probably took some of his money.

Now think about this. Wonho knows this comeback is something they have been planning for months on end. He has been there the whole time, he knows how comebacks work. He knows those are critical times for their success. He has personally witnessed the sweat, tears and injuries all the members have suffered for this specific comeback. He was also excited about it, because he knew it was going to be good. This comeback was strong, anticipated, well prepared, expensive. The music video and all the songs were fucking good. 

Would he leave the company in two, three days and leave his members alone to finish this comeback for him? I want you to imagine him sitting in a chair inside the Starship building office, or his dorm room sofa at night, reading the Instagram posts over and over and thinking about this. In these nearest hours after all those rumors were published, he probably had already pictured everything in his head. He’s been in this industry for years, he knows how things go. He knew how Starship handles things, much better than we do. He knew that if he left now, Starship would most likely not halt the comeback plans but instead force everyone to continue. He knew his closest friend Kihyun would have to learn his parts and that everyone in the group would be absolutely devastated, depressed and also angry. He could imagine in advance how every single member would react and how those reactions would differ from one another. He probably could imagine their facial expressions, their begging words, their rage, their cries, every little detail. He knew they wouldn’t be given any rest, but that instead they would be told to practice themselves to pure exhaustion, overstraining and death, and that it was all because of him. 

He knew exactly how much money was wasted on this comeback and that if he had to leave, there was no certainty that any of that money would come back to them. He knew that if he left, Monsta X’s entire future was at risk and that for certain, their peak had now been reached and that this was it. They would never reach quite the same heights they had reached so far. All the dreams about winning in MAMA’s, being invited to American television shows, published articles in Billboard magazines and whatnot, making deals with different record labels, breaking new records? Most likely gone.

So would he do it, just because of his dark past that had been there this whole fucking time? That didn’t mysteriously come up now, but was actually widely recognized, accepted and seen as a crucial part of Wonho’s storyline, his redemption arc. People loved him because he had won all the hardships in his past, because he had promised to change and grow up as a person, because we saw how he had fought hard to debut and pay back to his mom who he thought he had failed. People loved him because he wasn’t perfect but was capable of showing his gratitude, his respect, love and admiration toward the other members and us fans. 

Sure, weed is a serious business in South Korea, but so far, there has been no proof. We still don’t know whether Wonho has actually ever used drugs or whether this is just them blackmailing him. We don’t know if he has used drugs knowingly or accidentally. We don’t know if he had been smoking weed for months or years, for a couple of days or just fucking one time. We don’t know if there was peer pressure involved. I am now hearing people say not even the allegation about him spending time in a juvenile detention center / prison is necessarily true. We only know the fact that Wonho had already been in different police investigations (later on unknowingly) and got out with clear papers. We know he has not been involved in drugs during the entire time he has been a member of Monsta X, and that many of the other stupid things he did occurred when he was not even a trainee yet, and that no matter what, he had atoned for those things already. 

He also knew Jung Da Eun and Han Seo Hee who were reporting him were not concerned old friends or people with remarkable authority and insight into his life, they were just convicted criminals who had all the reasons to lie, distort facts and attempt to ruin his life. We know that because they had already spread literal lies about other idols, and because one of them has already provably been in a fucking prison and was clearly bitter towards any one of her (according to one source I found she’s a trans man and probably would use male pronouns but since gendered pronouns are not a thing in Korean and I don’t know enough of this topic I’m just using the pronouns all the English-speaking sources are using) old friends who are more successful than she is. 

Would he really leave suspiciously in a matter of two fucking days, proving and making people suspicious that he was guilty of all these things and still had uncovered secrets, crimes and things he had miserably been covering all this time, leave his fans wondering what ever even happened, leave his dorm that had become home to him, his band members who were closer to him than his own fucking mom probably was? Would he immediately abandon everything he had been fighting tooth and nail for, for YEARS on end, just because of claims that already belonged to the past, claims that could have been settled years ago, claims that were about his private life and didn’t have anything to do with his job as an idol? 

Again, mind you, he hasn’t beaten anyone up, he hasn’t murdered anyone, he hasn’t used hard drugs, he hasn’t been in a prison as an adult, he hasn’t raped, assaulted, harassed, stalked, doxxed, bullied or fought with anyone, nor are these two dipshits even claiming that. He has not done anything at all. Not now, not during his career, and it’s extremely hard to prove that he ever did.

So would he leave on his own volition, just for fun? I don’t know, I’ll let you do the math.

Now Starship, on the other hand. Starship HAS done things that prove they were the actual perpetrator. They rapidly terminated his contract, they removed him from the dorm almost violently fast (it was less than two full days after the announcement). They forced the other boys to focus on the comeback shows, keeping them busy. They have ignored every contact, negotiation and discussion attempt done by Monbebes. They silenced both Wonho and the other members so that we aren’t even seeing Monsta X sending Wonho goodbye messages, giving us encouragement (not that they could offer us any in this situation) or telling anyone how they feel about this issue. Wonho has not said absolutely anything since the official announcement, even though if this was his making and he wasn’t even planning to come back, he would have no reason to not approach us fans and tell that it will be ok, that he will figure things out, that he wants to solve these issues once and for all and that he sees our messages. Nothing. Radio silence.

Make of that what you will, but for fuck’s sake stop talking about this issue as if the rest of us fighting for this case, fighting for Wonho and fighting for Monsta X, are somehow selfish, overreacting, ungrateful or not respecting Wonho’s decisions.

I don’t care what y’all think, this is the group I have been paying for. I have given Monsta X more money I have ever given to any other group, and believe me I have been supporting at least 50 different groups in my lifetime. I have met them four times in real life. I have a fuckton of memories from them I hold dear. I have a fuckton of knowledge about this industry and how it works, and this is not only my hobby, but also my academic field, my strength. I know Starship can be brought down, I know exactly when and what they did wrong and I am ready to take action.

If you don’t want to join us changing the world you can fuck off and go eat your cereal and sandwich, watch Simpsons and go buy lipsticks from Amazon or whatever it is that you peeps do and leave this to us.

We’re not playing and we will not be stopped. We will go to the end of the world to find this smile and put it back to his face. 

Even if it means Starship will burn in a big ass bonfire. 

[chiimmchiimm]

❝ 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃 ❞

CHAPTERS “  01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 -  11  - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “     

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of ​​going to shower alone.

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔:  Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair)

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈:  3.4  k

𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:  dirty language, lies, serious many concealments, impulsive questioning, Jk tattoos, close, much closer, muscles, biceps, problems, very big problems, new threats, a little open end, future friends, sad conversation, memories, this chapter it is very fluff sorry i saw it necessary.

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒:  Long time, dear readers, despite the quarantine I have been very busy preparing for the university exams, I have been very busy :( I will try to upload the chapters more often. Great things will be coming, I promise you! Thank you very much for reading and enjoying the chapter! Also, I have uploaded a little gift. It is a small one-shot of Jk being a god. With nothing more to say enjoy reading !!!

“What?” Was really the only thing I could say after listening to the inspector. I frowned in confusion as I glanced between the two men right in front of me. Hyolin formed a crooked smile, then slid his hands across the table, creating an overly irritating screech.

“Do you know Jeon Jungkook?” Asked his subordinate with a raised eyebrow. His neutral expression with a clear condemnation in his gaze directed at me.

"Yes." I nodded with a shrug because I suddenly felt so watched.

“So you know there are clear indications that it is related to the murder of the Julia June prisoner?” His voice was not from an interrogation, it was too stable, transforming his non-innocent question into a direct accusation. Even though my guts churned as I brought back to the present scenes I preferred to forget, I knew how to stay calm enough not to attract attention. However, the discomfort did not stop me from stirring in the chair.

"I don't understand what I'm doing here," I said. The confusion I used was reflected in my behavior through a quick blink and a quick glance at the principal's office.

"Were you or not the companion of the murdered prey?"

"Yes, but ..."

“Then answer that to your question!” His bribed man screamed with an air of grandeur. The irony I wasted on his stooped figure put me in a bad mood. I was startled by the recent screech causing my breathing to increase its course. Hyulin put a hand on his upper back to calm him down. His eyes were bloodshot. He was anxious, restless as if he were desperate.

“You saw someone go out with Miss June the night of the cars?” Hyulin asked. He kept his gaze fixed to get a good perspective of any reaction he might give.

"No..."

“Lies!” A loud clap on the table made him stifle a moan. Hyulin looked at her subordinate immediately, also putting her hand on his shoulder. He gave her a poisoned look as he pointed at me. "You're lying, Hyulin, if you don't even want.”

"Calm down," Hyulin demanded immediately. His dubious waved his hand clearing the way. Afterward, he looked at me again with a tired look.

"Miss London, do you really know what kind of person you are? If you are being threatened or alibi you just have to say so we will put you in a protected witness program."

"Inspector, I would like to help you but it was all very dark, you could hardly see anything." I declared quickly with some agitated stutter. Hyulin stretched her neck up, cutting me with her eyes. After a moment of harsh glances, Hyulin seemed to assume that this was the truth, so she relaxed her body, expelling a disappointed sigh towards her partner. "If that all I would like to return to my obligations I have many pending."

Hyulin waved her hand lazily at the door. I walked over to her but just as my fingers threatened to shut her Hyulin's voice stopped me cold.

"If you lie, it will be much worse to have kept silent than the punishment itself."

"In order and in a row two by two do not force me to repeat it! Kim shit keep training!" shouted Officer Ramírez, quite annoyed at having to deal with a group of prisoners. The uproar was palpable because for some of them it was the first exit since the first time they entered. It turns out that through humanitarian activity they took us to a nursing home to sing Christmas carols. It seemed quite illogical to me at the beginning, that is, to put twenty prisoners with some crimes quite strong in front of a couple of tender and innocent ancients, was crazy. Later, I learned from a prisoner that everything was to wash away the reputation of the director who had been ironically linking with rumors of accepting bribes.

We were boarded in an orange bus with bars on the windows as if that was going to prevent one from jumping off. We were seated in pairs according to the cell. After Carballo's nineteenth threatening talk, the bus headed for the nursing home, which was approximately thirty kilometers away. Of course, they had the delicacy to classify prisoners by sex, women in the right row and men in the left. They even kindly handcuffed us to the seat to keep us from stretching our legs.

And still, I still had a perfect view of Thirteen from my crouched position. So far in the morning, she hadn't spoken to him. And I certainly didn't understand why I couldn't stop my gaze from being drawn to him every time he entered my field of vision. Perhaps it was the intrigue of the previous day. As usual, I had not slept healthy and as always, the fault was the owner of my attention right now. As I tossed and turned in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the first night I got here. When I saw Julia leave the cell with him. It was funny how it had passed into the background as new events had happened. And now, when I had returned I had done it like a tsunami devastating all my tranquility. Because even though his attitude towards me had radically changed, he was afraid, very afraid, that he really had something to do with the death of that girl because if it was so. Who told me that the same could not happen to me?

"Hey." A small direct scream in my ear made me jump into my seat causing me to tug on my cuffed wrists. Gemi in a silent complaint turning her head to look at Lucy who greeted me with a worried grimace. "And what about you seems to have seen a ghost?"

"Something like that," I confessed wryly, remembering the annoying visit of the two police officers the day before. Lucy twisted a funny smile and then clicked her tongue and turned her attention again to the view of the desert from the window. "Hey, Lucy ..." when she heard her calling, she looked at me curiously again. "Julia was really the maid. Thirteen before, you know ... "

“What's that for now?” Lucy wrinkled her nose, disoriented by my sudden interest. I bit my lip nervously not wanting to talk too restless.

"You told me." I avoided his question with the intention of shifting his focus. When she nodded uncomfortably, I felt more relieved. "The day after Julia's disappearance when I told you that I had dated Thirteen you became nervous. Some time later you warned me to stay away from him."

"Blair, for your sake drop the subject." She said quite irritated. I frowned at his suspicious insistence. He seemed quite guilty suddenly leaving me with a pit full of questions that wanted to be answered.

"Did thirteen have something to do with it?"

"Blair, shut up," she threatened in a low whisper.

"Why do I have the feeling that you know more than you say?"

“You have no fucking idea of ​​anything, dammit!” The intensity ended up betraying his stability making his scream bounce off the bus. I raised my eyebrows surprised at her loss of judgment not realizing that everyone turned to see us immediately. Instantly, Ramírez stepped between the seats to reach us with a face of few friends. I ended up sinking into my seat as an apology.

“What's going on here?” Ramirez nodded at Lucy in a silent warning. She rolled her eyes as she straightened up in the seat.

—I've got a bug in my nose, I have the fucking period and it's deadly hot on top of it. Do you want me to continue? ”Surprisingly, his annoyed tone does not provoke the same reaction in Ramírez because the man seems to be out of place due to so much information at once deciding for his own good to be mental to get away. The rest of the prisoners who had also turned to know what was happening end up turning too so as not to suffer Lucy's uncontrollable anger.A pair of dark eyes observe the scene from a distance with intrigue. Blair, who sees them right away, tries to respond with a reassuring smile but is only able to wince. He knows from her unhappy look that he will later witness her questions but now he decides to focus on Lucy and leave the almost certain harassment of Thirteen for later.

"I want to believe no." Lucy's sweet voice is a relief after having previously mistreated her ear. Blair stopped looking at Thirteen, averting a sorry look full of regret. He realizes that maybe he has forced things and that they were not the best ways but at least he had obtained the result. "Actually, he is not a bad person. I would put my hand in the fire for him if they ask me to do it And they will ... "

"Do not touch or take anything because I swear that whoever gets caught with a medication or something they did not come with goes to isolation for two weeks without food," Ramírez threatened. We all agreed in agreement although there were a couple of prisoners who decided to start making fun of the couple of officers who accompanied us. For my part, I would have preferred that Brain had come but lately he has stopped going to the pressure not showing up for his usual work schedule. I wonder what happened to him. I hope it is okay. "Take an instrument and if you don't know how to play, well, be careful not to bother because I won't mind handcuffing you in front of the elderly!"

"Yes, mom," Taehyung replied under his breath causing a couple of inmates to giggle. I watched the aforementioned with a tight smile at the temptation to imitate the rest of my colleagues and receive the punishment of Officer Ramírez. I stopped smiling immediately when I noticed as I looked at Taehyung that Thirteen was standing next to him with his gaze fixed on me. Narrowing his eyes as if with that act he could read my mind. I looked down at the ground and with my head hidden between my shoulders I followed the others towards the instrument table.

I sighed indecisively because in truth the only instrument that knew how to play was the piano and it looked like this institution did not have the budget to have decent musical instruments, with only a couple of flutes present and one or the other ukulele. I laughed to myself as I remembered a little me with that in my hand while trying to make a note sound melodic. It had been a good vacation at my grandparents' house, of course, my father had not participated in them, so I added that so that he could enjoy everything he wanted without unwanted interruptions. Reach out to touch the wood of the small object reaching the nostalgic and rough texture of it. I froze when a hand I instantly recognized crushed mine against the instrument. The black-tinted knuckles and the large dimension of it did not make it very difficult to know whose it was. Nor, the voice that whispered in my hatred soon after.

"Are you avoiding me, you little naughty?"

“Thirteen!” I yell in fright, turning abruptly toward her figure right behind me. He almost collided with his chest at its too surprising closeness. However, Thirteen seemed not to feel intimidated by the short distance between our bodies emitting a hoarse laugh at the pale expression on my face. The hand that had previously been under his had magically reached my chest. I felt how the heat established by his hand had disappeared so quickly that I became depressed without knowing why. Going back to reality I intended to back off but I ended up accidentally hitting the edge of the table awkwardly lifting it from its place for a couple of seconds. I place my hands on either side of my body to support the table and prevent it from falling. Not knowing if his gesture was really purposeful, I remained alert. My face turned red as his breath stirred the hair on top of my head. Throwing his body back, he left his face at the height of mine, however, his hands were not moved from the table achieving an improvised cornering. I swallowed nervously as he gave me a sharp look and his lips were wet with his tongue slowly.

“What happened on the bus?” “Oh, there is your questioning. Of course he had approached just to ask. Thirteen raised an amused eyebrow when I smiled wryly. He was curious like the others, really, he had not approached like this to speak. I mean, when had he done it? It was clear that he was taking an interest in his brother, the matter was not for me, but for Lucy.

"We're talking about you," I replied calmly, more than I expected considering that he is practically on top of me. I was quite proud of my upright posture nothing like the pathetic Blair that trembled every time this man was around. Of course, Thirteen raised his eyebrows surprised by my attack of sincerity but that did not make him change his posture in front of me. "We talked about your mania of cornering people to speak especially to women." I said quite amused but to the cutting time. To my surprise, Thirteen began to laugh sweetly, taking my offense as an innocent joke.

"I don't usually corral women to talk because in case you haven't noticed, that leaves them even more mute," he commented with the same irony as me. Despite the tone I express I could perceive that he was playing as usual. I bit my lower lip, tempted to smile.

"You have not left me speechless." I mocked with a stupendous smile of superiority. "Thirteen." I spoke slowly to create a drama that turned into too comfortable a silence. Thirteen twisted a mischievous smile raising his cheek allowing a small dimple that he had not seen before appear. He brought his body closer to mine with a tortuous slowness to stop just a few inches from grazing our noses.

"There are many ways to leave a woman speechless," he muttered hoarsely near my lips, turning the situation would be. I felt his breath hitting forehead warming each end of skin that brushed. His fucking dark gaze that always conveyed the same neutrality seemed completely like someone else's. Despite its blackness, if you approached closely to contemplate the details, you could see a look that shouted many things, not only passion, not only desire, it was more than that, much more. Maybe that was what shocked me, enslaved to her black irises. There was a heyday of mixed feelings. A light and at the same time a terrible and deep darkness that would not let me move forward as if I were part of a wall made for his protection. Lucy's words were still fresher than ever as time passed by analyzing her gaze.

"You're not going to kiss me." I shoved my deepest thought into the light with soft words. Thirteen strained his shoulders almost instantly as if it had been poison he had thrown and not a few words. His gaze hardened and then, it was at that moment, that the great wall that protected his true essence fell in front of me. I probably shouldn't have taken advantage of the situation, but my body was really filled with so much adrenaline that I was acting on pure instinct. "I know that you would never do something like this without knowing beforehand if you wanted to do it. You are not a bad person, who has rotted your soul like that so that now you don't stop thinking about it?"

"You don't know me, Blair. Fucking not." He replied curtly, however, despite his abrupt and harsh demeanor he did not leave me giving me the opportunity to appreciate more closely his gaze lost in an abyss of pain.

"I know," I said simply. I smiled weakly at my bewilderment at having finally deciphered the riddle of his neutrality. "But I don't have to know a person to know when they think they are alone."

His lopsided smile came back in full force, this time reflecting so much bitterness that it was difficult to keep my cool, calculating attitude. It was the first time we talked so openly, I didn't want it to close because I didn't know when the wound would reopen for me.

"It is so obvious?"

"Yes," I confessed sadly, feeling a huge lump in my throat that forced my voice to fade. I closed my eyes when I knew that this time, I would also open my soul. "Because I also have that look."

A finger caressed the socket of my eye, wiping away a tear that I didn't even know had started to run. I just let myself caress succumbing without thinking about the consequences. Just thinking about how good the caresses of his fingers felt. Not in what they will say. Not in itself was wrong. Not in itself it was fine. I just wanted someone to give me the love I had needed without knowing it. When I opened my eyes some time later I was shocked with the scene that was rebelled. She was not the only one who had been crying. And yet it had been so selfish not to notice. A lonely tear ran down her cheek. Reach out and catch it by squeezing its skin weakly. I grimaced as the drop seemed to seep through my skin, digging deep into my heart. As if that single drop transmitted all the pain, I began to feel sad, but so strong at the same time that I couldn't help but think about the ironic situation. It was the first time I had seen him cry, and although he had only shed a single tear, it had been enough. The questions were answered with an invincible pen. The previously recited words brought back. Of course, he hadn't killed Julia. He would never do. Not when I could look at his sparkling eyes up close. And without knowing it, he had long known the answer. Of course I knew it. But I had kept a band in my eyes out of fear. One, who had now fallen to the ground alone after all this. I didn't know what Thirteen was thinking but I could guess he felt the same way as me. An invisible connection unconsciously tied us creating an atmosphere of security that surrounded us with all the strength we needed.

Soon, we found ourselves smiling like two idiots who had found the solution after always having it in front of their eyes.

“Are you going to get that thing?” He asked, nodding toward the instruments behind me. I pressed my lips together and wrinkled my nose. Afterward, I turned around to grab the ukulele.

"Yes, and you should get something too."

"No, you would be surprised to hear me sing that thing that would only overshadow my wonderful voice."

"It's called a ukulele," I said. I laughed in consequence of his strange grimace.

"Whatever."

After being part of the worst show in the history of this poor nursing home, Officer Ramirez gave us two minutes to go to the bathroom before going back to the bus and taking the trip back to prison. Of course, Ramirez did not count that there were only two cabins and all of them were suddenly anxious to pee. Although I don't really blame them those toilets could perfectly outperform any jail seat.

To avoid desperate kicks at the bathroom door, I decided to be the last. Wait about twenty minutes but it really was all worth it. Upon leaving, I washed my hands with soap enjoying another of the luxuries that the prison lacked. I grabbed paper to dry my hands, then threw it in the trash and opened the door to get out.

"Yes, I know," said a voice that I recognized instantly. My heart froze inside my chest. The bathroom door was left ajar, not wanting to interrupt, much less when I could take a look and confirm the two people who were unattended in front of the women's bathroom.

"Hong Kong, you know that with a single word we say goodbye," said his partner, who until then had only ever seen him by his side as a lap dog.

"No, calm down Boy, it won't be necessary to stain us with blood." Hong Kong assured through a calculating tone. Then there was such a terrifying silence that I began to hear the pounding in my heart. "She will do it for us."

"Oh, okay," the other man agreed, laughing wildly. Hearing footsteps walking down the hallway a relieved sigh came from my mouth relaxing against the wall.

"Goodbye, Blair."

nex

[melonkooky]

love [jeon jungkook]

not requested

word count: 3901

genre: fluff, small angst, slice of life kinda thing, jungkook x reader

warnings: underage drinking, minor cussing

author’s note: i don’t have much to say other than the usual please ignore my mistakes and grammar errors lol. this one shot starts in high school and ends in adulthood, you’ll see what i mean when you read. sorry if this one shot is kind of a mess. but please enjoy it!!

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

love (/ləv/) noun - an intense feeling of deep affection

if your mom, or dad, or friend, or anyone that you were close to had told you that you would find the one, that you would meet the love of your life within the next few years, you would have laughed and said, “yeah, right.” hell, you were like most people. you had the mindset that no one would ever love you, that you wouldn’t find someone that you could confide in, that you could love. you were convinced you would be alone.

but then you came across a boy named jeon jungkook. he was in your grade. you recognized him from previous years of school, but never really thought about him, much less looked at him. he was just another student.

but then he seemed to take an interest in you, one fortunate and faithful day. you and him were young, barely starting high school. he was nervous to say the least, but he walked up to you as you were opening your locker. you were shocked, felt shy, wasn’t sure of what to do or how to act. you haven’t really talked to boys.

the awkwardness and shyness went both ways, which ended up strengthening your bond.

you and him clicked and instantly became close friends. you and him were inseparable.

-

you hid a tiny laugh with the back of your hand, ducking your head down to hide behind the student in front of you.

jungkook next to you was laughing at you, but doing a much better job at hiding his laugh. he was staring at the board, as if he was paying attention to the teacher, but the small smile of his face told another story.

he had just roasted you. you were making fun of his corny jokes, going with the whole “your jokes are dry” scenario. and jungkook, being the young teenager he was, replied with, “you would know. your jokes are like the sahara desert.” it killed you.

only, you and jungkook’s playful bickering were interrupted by the teacher. “jeon jungkook and l/n y/n, do you guys want a seating chart?”

you say up, red faced, trying to hide another smile. “no, mrs. kim.” jungkook replied.

it was even harder after that.

-

jungkook was your other half. you and him bonded like no other. he was your rock through your hard times.

-

“i’m so stupid.” you mumbled.

jungkook looked at you with sad, worried eyes. you had skipped school, so naturally he walked to your house afterwards to check on you. he was surprised when he saw you crying. your face was red, eyes puffy, a look of totally hurt and devastation. his heart broke at the sight of his best friend being in so much pain.

“how could i actually like a stupid boy like him.” you continued, harshly rubbing your eyes with your fists.

jungkook gently grabbed your hands. he adjusted his posture on the side of your bed so that he could face you better. he leaned forward, catching your gaze. “he’s a dick.” he said, a serious look on his face.

you suppressed a grin. “he fucking cheated. he said he didn’t even like me in the first place. he just needed some entertainment.”

“and he’s an idiot for doing such a thing to you. do you want me to beat him up for you?”

you heard the joking tone of his voice, but knew fully well how serious he was.

“do you even remember your martial arts lessons?”

“hell yeah i do!” jungkook stood up and got into his stance. you saw how determined he was, but he still looked cute.

jungkook held his fists out in front of him and threw a few punches to the air. “tell me his address. i’ll take him out.” he pursed his lips, throwing another punch.

you bursted out laughing, feeling heavy weight lighten in your chest. you felt like you could breathe, function, and it felt good. you felt better.

jungkook turned as he heard your laughter and smiled, relaxing. he was proud of himself for being able to make you laugh and smile. he made you forget about your ex, even if it was just for a little bit.

-

love can be many things. it can come in all shapes and forms, no matter the time or place. and you cherished the love you began to feel for your best friend, especially after breaking up with your ex. you held onto it with a tight fist, not wanting to let it go. you just hoped that someday, jungkook would reciprocate it.

-

you wiggled in your big coat nervously as you walked up to the door belonging to the jeons’. it didn’t matter that it was freezing and snowing outside. you still walked the short distance from your house to jungkook’s, because he had told you he was sick.

you made him some soup - with the help of your mom - and hurried over. you have been there only a few times, so you were nervous. in fact, you felt a bit hot.

you knocked, adjusting yourself grip on the bowl of soup that you had so carefully carried over. a few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing the kind and warm face of his mom. she gasped, eyes sparkling. “y/n!”

your cheeks flushed warm and red. “mrs. jeon.”

“are you here for jungkook?” she asked.

you nodded. “i brought soup.”

“well, come inside, come inside.” she touched your shoulder as she ushered you inside. “it’s freezing.”

you thanked her. once inside, she helped you with your coat and then informed you that the sick boy was upstairs in bed. you hurried upstairs, eager to help your best friend and fellow crush. luckily the soup was still warm.

you knocked and entered, being quiet in case he was sick. but he was awake, and jungkook immediately smiled as he saw you enter. he looked pale, with a hint of red on his nose and cheeks. he seemed shy, probably because of your sudden appearance.

“i brought you some soup.” you presented it to him.

jungkook removed the lid and held it up to his nose. he could smell very well, but he still hummed and smiled warmly. “i can’t really smell it.” he laughed.

you gasped suddenly. “wait, you need a spoon.”

you ran back downstairs, said a hi to mr. jeon, grabbed a spoon, and ran back upstairs. jungkook laughed again, the noise coming from his mouth sounding congested and nasally. “there you go.”

you say on jungkook’s bed as he ate. you and him talked, joking around a bit.

as jungkook sipped the last bit of broth, he turned to place the bowl on his nightstand. you watched him, admiring his side profile. you were head over heels for him, there was no denying that. if only jungkook could see the way you looked at him. the love in your eyes alone could for sure tell him.

you had been staring at jungkook. you hadn’t realized. you had zoned out, and jungkook’s cheeks were darkening and turning red, not because he was sick. he was blushing. “y/n?”

“ah, sorry.” your own cheeks burned.

he smiled. “what’s on your mind?”

“just,” you paused, unsure of what to tell him. should you lie, make an excuse, or tell him? “thinking.” you finally said.

jungkook shifted his gaze away, making your feel nervous. why did he seem disappointed?

“well, you shouldn’t stay for long, y/n.” you felt a slight pang, like a needle poking your heart. but he continued, “i don’t want you to get sick because of me. then i would have to take care of you.”

although, i wouldn’t mind that, you thought. “oh, yeah.” you hesitated, glimpsing at jungkook’s soft gaze, before standing up.

you reached for your bowl, but was surprised when jungkook grabbed your wrist, holding you steady. then, he sat up and pressed his lips to your cheek. it was a quick, simple peck, and yet it was enough to make your heart race.

jungkook released your wrist, just as you turned to look at him. the warmth from his skin lingered. it felt like his fingers were still wrapped around your arm, a ghostly feeling. he was blushing and wouldn’t meet your eyes.

you weren’t sure of what to say.

“you’re responsible if i get sick, jeon jungkook.” you said, a teasing tone of voice.

“i know.” he replied, smiling.

-

eventually, the love you felt for jungkook was practically crawling underneath your skin. it was begging to be let out, released, to not be kept a secret anymore. it started to control what you do, both out of fear of hurting jungkook and out of fear of ruining the special relationship you and him had. but one day, you couldn’t keep it inside you anymore.

-

you and jungkook were chilling in your bedroom one afternoon. you and him had walked home from school. naturally, after being assigned a group project, you and jungkook were partners. and jungkook wanted to come over. of course, though, you should’ve known that he would get distracted.

jungkook was laying on your bed, his head hanging off the edge just slightly, enough to see what you were doing while you sat on the floor. you had your laptop in front of you. papers and notebooks were spread out. as you worked, jungkook made comments, watched, and ate all your snacks. maybe he was a little too comfortable.

he hummed along to the music in the background, singing along during the chorus. it would have been funny when he purposefully sang at higher or lower notes or botched the lyrics, but you were staring at him. you had been working so hard, slightly annoyed at jungkook for not helping. but in the end, you still had plenty of time to work on the project with jungkook. he knew that, and that was why he wasn’t paying attention.

perhaps it was because you already had so much love for him. but staring at him always entranced you. it was those candid moments. jungkook didn’t know that you were staring, so he continued being goofy and throwing snacks into his mouth.

suddenly, an all too familiar urge overcame you. one that always came when you were around him, in moments like this. you sighed and shook your head. now wasn’t the time.

but now you were feeling anxious, or like it was urgent, like you needed to fulfill your urge. but you were scared. what if jungkook didn’t like you back? you were on the verge of being overwhelmed by emotions. thank god jungkook wasn’t paying attention.

however, you made the mistake of glancing at him again. his skin, his jawline, his doe-like eyes, his adam’s apple, his lips… now was your chance.

without another moment of hesitation and overthinking, you turned and stood up on your knees, leveling your head with jungkook’s. he looked at you, confusion written over his face, a snack between his fingers. “y/n-”

and you pressed your lips to his after cupping his cheeks. you cut him off, afraid of what he was going to say. but then again, you couldn’t anticipate what he would say after. maybe this was a mistake.

sure, the kiss was a little out of the ordinary, like the one kiss from the movie spiderman, but it still made your nerves quiver, your insides to twist, your heart clench and race, this was something that you needed to do. it lifted weight off of your shoulders, it needed to be done if you ever were going to live.

you pulled away, avoiding his gaze, and sat down again. you were staring at your laptop, but you weren’t thinking about the project. jungkook was all over your mind. you wondered if the room suddenly felt hot, constricting. your mind was overthinking. what had you just done? were you going to lose your best friend? no, jungkook wouldn’t do that. things might, at least, be awkward.

you shook your head, finally hearing the bed creak behind you. jungkook had sat up and was cautiously moving towards the floor beside you. his cheeks were bright red, and he seemed nervous. his legs were crossed underneath him with his hands tucked in the middle. you felt ashamed in a way. but why were all your thoughts negative? you had to be positive, that’s something that your mom had been drilling into your head since you started high school.

“y/n.” his voice was calm, quiet, soothing.

you looked at him, unsure of what he was going to say.

he smiled, “spiderman.”

you poorly suppressed a laugh, a whine leaving your throat. you covered your face with your hands. jungkook wondered whether you were crying or laughing, or maybe both, but it was funny to him. “hey! why are you acting like this?”

he reached for your hands and pulled them from your face. your face was as red as his was, but you still looked cute in his eyes. you were beyond flustered.

jungkook laughed before leaning forward and kissing your lips again. things were definitely different. and things were working out much better than you were thinking. you were relieved.

-

after finally confessing your feelings for each other, nothing much changed between you two, other than now a lot of encounters had more physical affection.

jungkook seemed a lot happier after you and him started dating. your friends, as well as some of jungkook’s friends, would come and report to you that he was often smiling to himself, or laughing… basically he looked like he was in love, and they knew it was because of you.

to you, that was love. even when you weren’t around, he was still thinking about you.

but of course, with every relationship, there were a few downsides. you and jungkook had fought a few times before, before you and him started dating. but your first fight as a couple was different.

-

there was a party going on at a friend’s house. you wanted to go, as you weren’t really one to go out and hang out with people, especially at a party. you knew there was going to be some trouble involved, like underage drinking, as well as other “things”. you told yourself the moment you felt uncomfortable, you would leave.

you invited jungkook, since you were slightly scared of not going without him. you knew he would watch over you and keep you safe if need be. although, when you asked jungkook if he wanted to go, he seemed a little anxious.

“i don’t know,” he had said. “i don’t really think it’s right to go.”

you knew where he was coming from, but your mind was set. you wanted to go. “please, jungkook. i don’t want to go without you.”

“i don’t feel comfortable going to this party. we could get into a ton of trouble. if something happens, it could affect us for life.” you knew what he was talking about, but you were certain that none of those things wouldn’t happen, at least not to you, especially if jungkook were there. but jungkook was adamant about not going.

“fine. i’ll go with kensey or something.” you said, a little annoyed.

jungkook sighed, watching as you stood up from the table and walked away. he didn’t want to end the conversation like that, it wasn’t his intention.

hours later, you were arriving at the party with kensey. she was ecstatic that you asked if you could tag along, expecting you to be with jungkook. you told her everything, and she too understood where he was coming from, but kensey told you that it was good that you wanted to get out and try something new.

so, you and her hung out with some friends and partied like high school students did on a friday night. only there came one particular activity that you were practically pressured to participate in. it was a drinking game, and you didn’t want to drink as it was illegal, but many insisted that it would be okay and that it wouldn’t get too far.

in summary, you got drunk. and drunk you were yelling at yourself for drinking, talking about getting in trouble with your parents. your friends laughed about it, until kensey wondered if that was your cue to leave.

while kensey was dragging you out of the house, telling you to lean on her, you had called jungkook. “jungkook.” you slurred. “why aren’t at the party?”

he sounded disappointed, but you didn’t pay any attention. “y/n, why do you sound like that? don’t tell me…”

you pouted. “please don’t be mad at me.”

kensey glanced at you, before taking your phone. “hi, this is kensey. i’m taking her home, don’t worry about her.”

you don’t remember much about what she said after that because you were suddenly thirsty and tired, all at the same time. luckily for kensey, you weren’t too much to handle. you still tried your best to understand what was going on and where you were going.

by the time you and kensey reached your house, jungkook was standing by the front door. “i can take her.” he said.

jungkook bid a goodbye to kensey and helped you inside, quietly as to not wake up your parents. he was thankful that you stayed quiet until he brought you into your bedroom. “jungkook,” you spoke, “when you did you get here?”

he was still disappointed in you, “just now. kensey brought you home.”

you sighed, sitting up to look at him. “why are you standing all the way over there?” you pouted.

jungkook didn’t reply for a while. his jaw clenched and unclenched as he wondered what he should say, how he should react… “i’m mad at you.” he finally said.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “why?”

“why? you got drunk, y/n.” he was close to yelling, but quickly changed his tone to a whisper. he was worried about your parents waking up.

“i didn’t mean too! it was an accident.”

“how do you accidentally get drunk?”

you shrugged, cheeks going red. “i don’t know. my friends said everything would be fine. they said it wouldn’t hurt.”

your boyfriend sighed tiredly, feeling exhausted. he would have been fast asleep, seeing as it was after midnight, but he was worried about you, and waiting for a text that said that you got home safely. you calling him nearly scared him, until he heard your drunken voice.

“y/n, you can’t let friend pressure you into doing those things.”

“i knew what i was doing, jungkook. you’re not my parent. i don’t need you to constantly be by my side, watching over me like a hawk. i was completely safe and okay.” you spoke harshly.

jungkook was hurt by that statement. he pursed his lips, averting his gaze to the rug on your floor. with a slight nod of his head, he said, “alright then. good night.” and turned to leave.

your eyes widened. you immediately regretted saying those things. you didn’t mean them. you had hurt jungkook’s feelings, and now you were worried about him leaving. without any further hesitation, you stumbled off of your bed, nearly falling, and grabbed his hand. jungkook was surprised by how fast you had moved, especially in your state. he turned as he released your doorknob.

you looked up at him, eyes full of regret. “i’m sorry.”

jungkook relaxed and wrapped his arms around you. he rested his chin on top of your head, even placing a little kiss on it. “it’s okay.” he sighed. “i just can’t not think of all the things that could go wrong at parties. someone could have hurt you, taken advantage of you, you could do something you’ll regret,” there was a long, heavy pause. “someone hotter than me could have stolen your heart.”

you laughed, it was a small, still sad laugh, but it lightened the mood. “there is no such person that is hotter than you.”

he laughed too, holding you closer. after sharing a silent, intimate moment, jungkook suddenly pulled away. “now go shower. you stink.”

“hey!”

-

who would’ve thought that you and jungkook would last so long, to have such a strong bond that enabled you and jungkook to stay together.

now, many years later, here you were. your life felt complete. you felt satisfied. you have a job, you have a house, you have a husband, and you have a child.

“mamma, mamma.” your daughter called.

she jumped onto the bed, climbing between you and jungkook. jungkook was still asleep, whilst you woke up as soon as your daughter opened the bedroom door. you sighed into the pillow. “my love, what’s got you so energetic in the morning?”

she laughed. “i’m hungry.”

you sighed again. “you are just like your father.”

“what about me?” jungkook asked, his voice deep and laced with sleep still.

“she got her appetite from you.”

“that’s a compliment.”

you rolled your eyes and sat up. your daughter wrapped her arms around you, climbing into your lap, before poking jungkook’s back. “daddy, get up.”

he flipped over finally. despite having bedhead that covered a part of his eye, and a lopsided, tired smile, he still looked attractive. he reached out, poking the little girl in her stomach. she wiggled around in your arms, her dark hair becoming even messier than before. her laugh was music to your ears. it was amazing how much she looked like jungkook.

“alright, i guess i’ll start breakfast.” you said, removing your daughter from your lap.

she immediately climbed into jungkook’s arm, laughing as he tickled her some more. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. you watched them with a fond, loving look in your eye.

sure you had dreams of what your family was going to look like, but you never could feel what having a family would be like. it was until you started one with the man of your life that you felt special, like your family was special. and that was the beauty of it.

love didn’t feel anything like how you felt now in this moment.

you didn’t feel love until you were happy with yourself, until you were successful, until you met the love of your life, your soulmate, until you brought a bundle of joy into the world.

that was love.

suddenly, you were brought out of your head, your thoughts interrupted. you saw jungkook looking at you. he was standing up, bending over slightly to look at you. your daughter was no where to be found.

“huh?”

he grinned and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i asked if you wanted me to cook breakfast.”

you shook your head, hurrying out of bed. “i don’t trust you in my kitchen.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you turned and looked at him, a teasing smile forming on your face. “run bts! 2017.” then you made a dramatic pause. “episode twenty.”

jungkook’s face reddened, recalling the moment when he showed what he had attempted to make. the food was stuck to the plate. in fact, he was able to flip the plate upside down, and the food remained still. it was a funny moment, to say the least.

[atopearth]

Samurai Love Ballad Party Part 24 - Mitsuba Kaede (Sogo)

I've always liked Kaede and the heroine's relationship. Kaede's always been like that older reliable sister that the heroine could feel safe with, so I'm excited to see how this route will turn out. It's nice that the heroine found out Kaede was a guy pretty quickly instead of it dragging on, I guess it's understandable to discover it so fast considering they're living together for their mission, and Kaede's bound to get hurt etc, hard to hide her body lol. Anyway, it was really cool how calm Kaede was about it and for her to even show up in masculine clothes and explain her situation to the heroine was nice. She looks beautiful as a girl, but looks great as a guy too! Kid Kaede is so adorable too~ I wonder how it feels to be Kaede though. He was forced to hide his identity ever since he was a child so that no one from Iga or anything would assassinate him for being the Mitsuba Chief's child and future heir of the clan, and so to be doubly sure of that, he had to pretend to be a girl as well. I wonder if it's okay for him to reveal it so easily to her now though? I'm really happy that the heroine is so understanding of Kaede and how much pain and suffocation he must have been suffering to have to hide himself to protect himself and the future of his people. I'm happy she didn't make it about herself and how the lie hurt her etc, and instead focused on Kaede's feelings.

I'm honestly so jealous though, Kaede looks great as a guy and a girl hahaha. I'm surprised she's already admitting that she loves Kaede, that was quicker than I thought lol. I don't mind it since you can see how important Kaede is to her and likewise with the heroine to Kaede, but I still feel like their "love" needs a bit more for me to feel something as a reader, especially since the heroine just found out she’s actually a guy haha. Otherwise, it was nice to see the heroine ask for his real name, Sogo, sometimes I wonder if Kaede forgets his real name tbh. Lmao at the heroine picking up Tetsuji, it's as if he's a stray rabbit that needs to be fed lol, it was pretty funny how Kaede so bluntly called him an idiot. I'm surprised Tetsuji wants to join the Mitsuba clan though. Anyway, seeing Kaede change into Sogo was interestingly nice, it really seems like he wants to be able to relax and be himself in front of the heroine...except his father will never allow that, which is understandable since who knows if anyone is watching etc. But, it's just such a strained life, I can't help but feel bad for Sogo.

Sogo has always been watching over the heroine as Kaede even back when they were kids, he's always loved her, and you can really tell from how he acts as Kaede around her. Hearing him admit that he loved the heroine but couldn't do anything about it as the chief's child was so heartbreaking, especially when the heroine pretended to be asleep and said she loved him too and then he apologised... Their love is so painful... But I really like it because I think this might be the only route for the Shadow Heroine that I feel most emotionally connected to the LI? I guess it really helps that we've seen Kaede in a lot of the routes before this, so it's already been established how much she loved the heroine, and that easily translates to her male self. Awww Tetsuji is such a silly pure soul, I love how he cried at being touched by how the Mitsuba clan took him in even though they themselves are in such a precarious situation with people trying to kill Kaede and the heroine. I feel like in terms of chemistry, Tetsuji and Kaede seem to work better even if they're both guys hahaha. Aside from saving Tetsuji, the heroine hasn't really interacted much with him, so I kinda forgot he was fond of her already lol. But I'll take it just so that Sogo can seriously think more about what he wants considering how he's practically sacrificed his whole life to the clan.

I honestly feel so bad for the heroine and Kaede. Regardless of how the heroine got captured, I doubt she would have been able to escape from Hanzo and Yuki, and I'm sure Kaede would always choose to save the heroine, but it's pretty devastating to see the Mitsuba clan's newly rebuilt village be in shambles alongside with injured comrades, especially when it was all a ruse to get Kaede to leave the village so that they could have a clear advantage in destroying it. I'm just glad it doesn't seem like anyone is dead? Regardless though, Kaede blaming herself for not being there for the village when they needed her definitely hurts. Of course they can always relocate as long as they are alive, but the insecurity of hiding and the sadness over losing what you've built up slowly still hurts. It also makes her have to face her priorities, will she choose the heroine or the village if she had to choose only one? It was honestly painful to hear Sogo say he had to give up on her for the village, and that Tetsuji would take care of her well. I could really the heroine's frustration at not being able to tell Sogo that she didn't need to have that "happy life" with Tetsuji when all she wants is to be with him, since telling Sogo would only hurt him more... It's just saddening.

Well...how convenient that the Ryumanju (flower that is even better than the Ryusenju they use to make the Dragon's Tears) flower that Kaede holds dear from the heroine is actually even better than the flower they usually need and it's not even toxic! Isn't it kinda funny that the heroine and her family are special because the Ryusenju toxins have no effect on them, and now with this new flower, they won't even need them lol (aside from the recipe). Honestly though, I don't like this, I feel like it's such a cheap way to solve things with Nobunaga and it's make the heroine and them kinda silly to not even have noticed that this flower was so close to them for years. It grows in the same place as the Ryusenju?! C'mon loll..it wasn't even hard to find. Honestly, if I was Nobunaga, I'd think they were lying to me and gave me a shit version of this medicine the whole time lol, I mean, it's sure convenient how they so quickly and easily made one that got rid of alllll the bad stuff about the previous lol, and it doesn't even sound like it's limited and difficult to make lol.

Well...that was certainly abrupt when Hanzo attacked the Mitsuba, the chief blocked the blow for Kaede, and then Kaede decided to announce that he's actually Sogo, the chief's kid, so now he'll be the new chief, like okay?? Things are moving a bit too fast and haphazardly? Like, is everyone supposed to believe this all of a sudden and accept it just like that? Anyway, something I'm surprised about is that I finally realised that the story seems to put Kaede's strength and stuff at the same level as Hanzo and them? I honestly didn't think she was as strong as them looking at the past routes, but I guess she's an LI, so she has to be "strong"? It feels so terrible that the Chief/Sogo's father died though... Sogo could finally let go of his identity as Kaede and live out in the open but it was at the sacrifice of his father..that's just so sad... They both lived only thinking about the Mitsuba clan and never ever allowed themselves to truly bond as father and son even though they have those blood ties, it's just so saddening... It's nice that he at least got to see how strong of a leader Sogo would be and is proud of him at the moment of his death, but it's terrible that he'll never really get to see the village led by Sogo with his own eyes.

I wasn't expecting Sogo to decide to suicide and ask the heroine to go with him (since if the Mitsuba clan is gone, he'll kill himself too), like, can't he still rebuild?? I doubt everyone is dead! Anyway, Nobunaga's troops save them, so he doesn't suicide, which is so silly, because if Nobunaga had enough time to save them, that means the clan wasn't completely dead yet, and I think Sogo really should have been focusing on trying to save as many people as he could instead of killing himself but whatever lol. Otherwise, Tetsuji is such a sweet guy, he's back to being a samurai because he thinks that he can protect the Mitsuba better that way instead of staying with them, he's so kind. Anyway, kinda cute how the heroine can't get used to life without Kaede, so Sogo will probably have to appear as Kaede every now and then lol, which is understandable since the one she grew up with was Kaede, but I'm still kinda sad that they didn't do much with the Sogo persona? Like, other than the fact that Sogo exists so that Kaede is a guy, there's not much to really feel or care about him even though they're the same person. I mean, the heroine might as well just be romancing Kaede lol.

Overall, I really liked the first half of the route, but I got really disappointed afterwards lol. I thought the story was more of a slow burner on how difficult it was for Kaede to balance her gender as well as choosing between her clan and the heroine, and I think it really portrayed that well because I really felt her dilemma. However, everything after that was so rushed. The chief dying to make Sogo come to light, Nobunaga helping to keep them alive, everyone accepting Sogo, them getting together etc, it felt like everything just happened in the last few chapters so it really went from 1-10 real quick lol, it just didn't have the same feel and really killed the flow of the story lol, especially since they took a lot of time to build up the heroine and Kaede's relationship (which I liked). It's sad because I actually really like Kaede, but Sogo's existence doesn't do much than make it that the heroine is actually with a "guy" not a girl, in which at that point, Kaede might as well have just stayed as Kaede for a yuri romance because Sogo as a person isn't really important lol, which I guess can be understandable since he has to hide that he's a guy, but at the same time, I feel like they could have shown more for us to like the male persona. Anyway, honestly, not really a fan of this route in the end but I did really like Kaede and the heroine in the beginning haha.

[that-devout-catholic-woman]

sorry but i really just don’t think you understand that your beliefs don’t apply to everyone. i am 19. i am in love. i am on birth control, and getting pregnant right now is one of my biggest fears. not because i wouldn’t be a good mother or anything but i do NOT want to have a child or be pregnant. if i get pregnant, i am 100% getting an abortion. i would not feel guilty. i would not be shamed either way. and yes, i am catholic. i value my self over a hypothetical child.

Let me tell you a story about myself. I used to be just like you, honestly.

Prior to being engaged to Kieran, I was engaged once before to my high school sweetheart. I was 15 when he and I started dating and I was head over heels for him. I lost my virginity to him and engaged in sexual acts with him up until I learned he had cheated on me multiple times and was leaving me for one of the girls he cheated on me with years later. I was devastated and heartbroken, it had been so many years and I was so in love I didn’t know how to not love him. I also felt betrayed because giving of yourself sexually is a giving of the most intimate part of yourself and I really did love him and wanted to be with him forever. And he ended up falling out of love with me. Sex isn’t something to be taken lightly. But for your sake, I hope nothing like this happens to you and you and your partner stay together. I was exactly your age when my ex-fiancé left me.

Sex also biologically leads to children. We all know this and learned this in biology classes and sex ed (or at least you should have). A sperm and an egg leads to making a fetus. Like I’d mentioned before, birth control methods are never 100% effective and as such babies still get made through no fault of their own. Birth control companies and the sexual revolution have tried to make you believe the loes that sex can be without consequence, and I’m deeply sorry to have to tell you that you’ve been lied to. Unborn fetuses are still humans. They still have a right to life.

You say that getting pregnant rn is one of your biggest fears, have you stopped to ask yourself why? Like honestly really why? I used to be pro-choice, I’ll openly admit to that. My fears stemmed from knowing a baby was permanent and the relationships I’d been in though I fell hard for my exes weren’t long-lasting. From believing the lie that I wouldn’t be able to finish school and be a mother. From the lie that I couldn’t be amother and have a successful future career. From the fear of the pain of childbirth. From the fear of being judged. From the fear of not being the best mother to a baby who deserved a family. Like I’d said in a previous ask, a selfish fear isn’t a good enough reason to kill someone, that choice is permanent. If you don’t feel you want a child, you could always put it up for adoption, there are tons of same sex couples and couples suffering from infertility and single people and others who are looking to adopt babies and have a shot at being a parent. But if you did decide to keep it, you don’t have to give up on your dreams, there are tons of pro-life programs out there who help moms even after the baby is born—the same can’t be said of Planned Parenthood.

You say you’re Catholic and pro-choice and I can honestly say I used to be you back in my hay day. My now Church friends call the time in my life where you are now “Ye Olde Ho Days” which I think is hilarious lol. I urge you then to think about the old adage “What would Jesus do?” Your self-centeredness right now is not sustainable. Romantic relationships take compromise and self-giving to be sustained, if your relationship is healthy I assume you already know this—you can’t be selfish. Marriages end in divorce when people become selfish. Friendships take compromise and self-giving to be sustained. Sometimes a dear friend needs a shoulder to cry on the day before a big exam after something traumatic has happened in their life. In order to maintain friendships, you can’t be selfish. You already know that in your faith life you can’t be selfish, God asks for you to hand over literally all your trust and your entire life to Him since He will never lead you astray. Part of maturing and growing up is realizing that you need to let go of your toxic traits and become better. You’re at the peak time where you’re asked to do just that. Let go of your selfishness. Become an adult. Take charge of your life.

I finally became pro-life when one of my best friends at the time thought she may be pregnant and I knew how good a mom she’d be and how adorable her baby would be. I blanched when she said if she really was pregnant that she’d get an abortion. Luckily she wasn’t, but I finally understood that you can protect your women friends and women who are complete strangers and their unborn babies at the same time. I watched videos of what abortions actually are (if you haven’t done so, I would encourage you to since you say that you wouldn’t mind undergoing the procedure yourself, so why not know what would happen, right? You can find them on Live Action’s Facebook page.) and became vehemently pro-life. And I vowed to myself that I would be the exception to all the pro-lifers I saw and heard about who only cared about the unborn. I was going to be a pro-lifer who cared about Every. Single. Person. Until they died, and even afterward.

And I’ve done just that. I am the exception. I am the pro-life generation. I don’t expect you to change your mind right away. I was 20 when I became pro-life. But at least take a few days to think about what I said, okay?