#And I am indeed re-watching Breaking Bad

[taddymason]

listen

jay is breaking bad in DR

[synnamonroll666]

You Are Still Human

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Wendigo!Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: Josh breaks down over the fact that he cannot live a normal life since his possession and no longer believes that he is truly human. So you find a special way to remind him of his humanity... Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mental Breakdown, Insecurities, P In V, Creampie, Slight Choking, Rough Smut Animalistic Smut, Mention Of Breeding, No Foreplay Or Prep, Pain Kink-ish??? (Let me know if I missed any!) Word Count: 3.2k A/N: So I finally got this done! I didn't expect it to end up this long but as you can see, things got out of hand FAST. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy it! 🖤 Josh Washington Masterlist: 🖤 Taglist: @nuggetsandmoose, @maquillagebookmark, @wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee28374728, @bee-who-isnt-french

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

My tired feet slowly shuffle across the hardwood floor as I push myself through the front door of our shared home. I am exhausted after several errands that I had to run today, to say the least. But that's the price I have to pay for pushing them off until right at last minute. Though it wasn't exactly the extra work I had to do that pushed my mind and body to feel so worn out. My loving boyfriend decided to join me, which was a rare occurrence for him.

Ever since the... Incident... He hasn't wanted to go out into the world much. I understand his anxiety of being seen in public with his condition so I never push, but today he insisted on joining me on my mission to finish my to-do list. Perhaps he felt bad that all these burdens were placed on my shoulders with his lack of want to leave the house.

But unfortunately, a face mask to cover up his ripped cheek and sharpened canines was just not enough to cover what he has become. Recovery for Josh was long and hard and we had only just began talking about the possibility of cosmetic surgery. It was a long process before we could even begin worrying about such things.

After leaving the mountain, the spirit of the wendigo left him, not being able to leave where it is bound. But still, traces of an animal-like presence lingered in his behaviors and personality. We didn't know if restoring his humanity was possible, but the doctors were able to recover just enough to get him to a point of leaving the hospital to live a normal life. Though even then, I had to beg to convince them to let me take him home with me.

His parents were hesitant on letting me take care of him, but after some negotiating, they bought a secluded cabin in a swallow forest, just deep enough to give us privacy but not too deep that I would be trapped if I needed to get away. Josh's humanity was indeed resorted, but the primal animal was still within.

And that's where we are now. Josh has an odd habit of forgetting how to act "human" sometimes. Every once in awhile he will stare at someone random and growl lowly, or even nip at the air as though his need to feed was getting too intense. It was worrisome, to say the least. Sometimes I would stay up at night, fearing the one thing that I always worried was inevitable—that Josh would lose control once more.

Though time and time again, he would prove me wrong with a loving and warm cuddle at the end of the day. But sadly, tonight will not be so sweet. I can tell by the way Josh trudges into the living room, his head hung low and shoulders slumped. He wants to be left alone.

Though I understand this, I don't want to leave him with his thoughts again. Bad things happen when Josh is left alone with his thoughts. So I approach the doorway of the living room, leaning against the frame as I watch his tired form from afar. He seems defeated by the way he sat slouched against the soft cushions of our couch.

Slowly, I make my way to him step by step and sit on the couch, my eyes watching him to read his body language. He does not react to my presence, instead staring out into a void of nothingness like his mind is elsewhere. I reach over to the small end table by my side and pull its drawer open, only to retrieve a small, red bag.

I set it on my lap and then turn back to Josh, carefully taking on of his large hands in my own. They have grown a tiny bit since his possession, by an inch for each finger at least. Every part of his body has grown a bit since then. Sometimes it could feel a little intimidating. I run my thumb over the fragile, pale skin on the back of his hand before releasing a tired sigh.

"Your nails are getting long again, sweetheart. Shall I trim them for you?" I ask while reaching for the bag in my lap with my free hand, pulling the zipper to the side to reveal a bunch of nail care tools.

He does not respond verbally, but let's out a huff to let me know that he is fine with it. So with that, I begin my work, trimming and filing away at the sharp and jagged claws. It takes what feels like an hour to get them finished and looking nearly human again. In this time, Josh doesn't move a bit. He is so still, it's hard to tell he is even breathing. But once I finish and go to move my hands away from his, his boney fingers clasp my own.

"Thank... You..." He whispers faintly, his voice coarse and almost ghostly. Life glimmers in his eyes for a brief moment as his light irises study his hands.

But then, after a minute of admiring my work, he stands from his spot on the couch. He begins to pace around the coffee table in the center of the room, as if his mind is wandering, pondering something intense. I watch him for a few moments as he silently walks, feet shuffling along the carpet. But then, he mutters something...

"It's not enough..."

I almost do not catch it, until he repeats the words in a volume just slightly higher than before. But before I know it, Josh is pacing more frantically, whispering the sentence over and over. An eerie dread falls over my body as I watch him, his movements growing more panicked. He seems frightened and enraged, and those feelings seem to grow until he finally snaps, flipping over the coffee table in one swoop of his arms.

"I'm sick of this fucking shit!" He screams in a voice that sounds more like a howl from a wounded animal than anything else. "I'm so sick of being a fucking monster! I'm so fucking sick of people looking at me like one—like I shouldn't be with you or like I'm going to hurt you! I just want to be human again!"

I am stunned, sitting still as ever as if I'm afraid to move. That is until he breaks down, falling to his knees as he let's out a mournful sob. It's as if his spirit has been beaten down to the point of no return by this curse, every day stares, and the pressure of trying to be what he once was. Within a second, I am by his side on the floor, pulling him close to me and embracing him tightly.

"You're not a monster." I whisper sweetly as I caress his thinned out hair, just one more thing he has had to be insecure about since becoming human again. But it never lost its silky texture, which was what I had always loved the most about it.

He shakes his head and whimpers faintly, "I'm just a monster..."

I think for a moment. Usually it's pretty hard to break someone out of this mindset, especially Josh. He has a stubborn way of thinking, which makes it hard to convince him otherwise on a lot of subjects. I continue to pet his hair and think of back when he was human, how much he loved to show me just how much he loved me every day. Of course, a lot of times it would be through physical acts— And finally, it hits me. I know what will break him out of these self-abusive thoughts.

"I want you to prove to me that you're not a monster." I order firmly, which is enough for him to finally raise his head from where it is tucked in my shoulder and look up at me.

"W-What?" He queries just barely above a whisper—just barely enough for me to hear his quivering voice.

I gently caress his cheek, brushing my fingers over his deep scars as I clarify. "Prove to me that you aren't a monster. I know you can. Prove to me that you can feel all the emotions that a normal person can feel, and make me feel them as well in return."

He stares at me for a moment, eyes clearly uncertain about my rather intimate proposition. I can practically see the internal battle going on inside his mind through those glazed over pupils in the center of his white irises. Then, he let's out a shaky breath before biting his lip subtly—a risky habit he still carries from being human, but has to be more cautious doing now with his sharpened teeth.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." He whimpers like a hurt puppy, glancing back down at his fidgeting fingers.

"You won't," I say as I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing his gaze back to me so he can see my sincerity. "I know you..."

He adverts his eyes once more, only this time looking down at the growing bulge under the rough fabric of his jeans—something I had failed to notice before. Josh had grown so backwards since his turning—so backwards that we haven't had sex since prior to it. I know it is killing him, especially since he was always the horniest guy I knew before this happened.

To make things easier for him, I place my hand on his thigh, resting right beside his needy member. He swallows thickly as he visibly shivers, a thin layer of sweat already coating his skin as his temperature rises. It is a subtle action to test the waters and when I'm sure he is comfortable, my hand goes right to the spot I know he desires so much.

But as soon as my hand cups the twitching length through his pants, something changes. A soft growl is heard rumbling at the back of his throat, and when my eyes flick back up, I am met with a hungry and what looks to be primal gaze. His eyes are no longer soft and sorrowful, but hold something almost animalistic within them.

Before I can say anything, Josh scoops me up and throws me down on the couch, knocking a startled gasp to fly out from me that seems to fall on deaf ears. He is quick to cage me between his arms, and lower his body weight down over top of me to encase me in his grasp, like a predator sealing his prey's fate.

No words are spoken, just the sounds of his ragged breaths and rabid growls fill the air. His body temperature has risen even higher than I have ever felt from him, and as he presses his chest against mine to keep me locked in place, I can feel his racing heartbeat vibrating through his chest as well. It amazes me that he hasn't had a heart attack yet.

But still, it seems as if something is stopping him in place. A lost, uncertain, question glimmers in his orbs as though he is waiting for an answer. Though he is silent, I know what he is asking—the final thing he needs to take things to the next level.

"Go ahead, Josh. I'm ready." I breath faintly, giving him the permission he seeks.

As if from a movie, he tears our clothes off at a supernatural speed. I lay there, naked and dumbfounded as I look at the shreds of clothing that fell all around us, surrounding us like some sort of makeshift nest. I can't help but wonder how in the hell he managed to do that after I just clipped and filed his claws down, but I don't have much time to answer.

A shriek of shock, pain, and pleasure tears from my throat as I feel the familiar sting of something long and hard entering my canal, though this time in a more rough and fast way. Josh was always one for foreplay, but I guess there isn't time for that now, as he is already buried deep within me to the brim within just a split second.

His eyes hold a bit of remorse for only a mere moment, until that hunger returns. I barely have time to breathe as he retracts and enters at a pace I have never seen from him before. His hips pound furiously into mine, a subtle ache setting into my joints almost in an instant as he does his work.  His grip on my waist is enough to burst my organs, while his dull nails cut into my flesh, crimson liquid forming under them more and more with each flex of his fingers. If I hadn't have cut his nails before this, I'd be done for. But I feel like Josh would know to be more careful if there was an actual hazard.

The intensity of his tip hitting my g-spot over and over at a brutal force feels to be enough to actually bruise it. Josh was always so good at finding it but this is a whole new level. I push my head back against the cushions as a cry of painful ecstasy parts my lips. Gripping the edges of the cushions and ripped strands of clothing in my fists, I begin to squirm out of pure instinct. Of course, Josh doesn't like this very much. Before I know it, a tight hand is wrapped firmly around my neck, but not enough to actually hurt me. This shows me that deep down, Josh still has some control.

He pounds into me in a sloppy and rough rhythm, determined like an animal desperate to breed. Grunts, groans, and growls that sound less than human are all that are heard from him. I would be concerned if my mind was clear enough to pay attention. No, right now, all my senses were overwhelmed by Josh, cutting off my awareness of the world around us like a sweet death. I am out of my own body now, my soul flying high in the clouds of heaven.

To my surprise, he pulls out. A soft exhale escapes me has he let's go of my throat, but that's only to quickly flip me over so he can now get in from the back. As soon as he shoves his length back inside, he's moving at a pace yet again unimaginable while his claws grip my hips firmly. He is almost pulling me back onto his cock at times, so my hips can meet his own has he thrusts into me. It's so animalistic and natural and it feels so right. And by the feeling of it, it's just enough to satisfy Josh completely.

With a roaring howl, Josh finally finds the release he has been chasing for so long. His speed and strength increases as he comes undone within me, and he fills me to the brim as if he wants to claim me... Or maybe even breed me. It is all too much for me to bear. The sensation of his heavy load spraying into my sweet spot is enough to send me flying over the edge. I bury my face into the cushion as a shuddering moan falls from my lips, before my voice strains away to nothing. My whole body trembles as I practically melt beneath him, and my walls squeeze and quiver around his cock as though I'm practically begging for more.

Though soon that psychical need gives away into exhaustion as soon as my tense muscles relax once my high subsides, my body falling limp like I no longer can control it. I'm just a doll now, all at the mercy of the man who gives me life. He may think that because I help him to heal, I am his savior. But he couldn't be more wrong. Without Joshua, I would be in a darker place, drowning in my trauma of that night. But now, I have him. And in this moment of silence where nothingness hangs in the air, that thought enters my brain. A small smile curls the corners of my lips while I close my eyes, feeling peace as I soak up his warmth while his hot breath fans my shoulder.

He removes himself from me, both of us letting out a trembling whimper, the overestimation stinging our most sensitive areas momentarily. He does not waste a single breath on words, instead leaning down to capture my lips with his. He is careful—careful to not cut me with his long canines, but also holding a tenderness he used to show before all of this. He knows that I am at my most vulnerable at this time, and will take the most caution to not break me at my fine glass-like state. When he pulls away, he gazes upon me with tear-filled and passionate eyes, his orbs reflecting what seems to be gratefulness and love.

"That wasn't the wendigo in me..." He breathes faintly while raising a hand to caress my cheek in a way so tender that I feel as if I could cry. Though I raise a questioning brow at that statement, not knowing what he means. So he elaborates after taking another second to breathe, still worn out by our recent activities. "I just needed you that badly... So I guess that was the human in me, huh?"

I smile at that and nod, admiring how he blushes at what he admits. For someone who used to be so ballsy and open with his dirty thoughts, Josh could be pretty backwards at times. It was something I always adored so much about him. I run my fingers through his raven, disheveled hair while taking in his stunning features, a soft sigh leaving me before I whisper. "You can have me whenever you like, Josh."

Josh smiles and presses his lips to mine once more, and then lays his head on my chest. I watch him intently, taking note of how he smiles when he hears my heartbeat quicken ever so slightly at the sight of him on top of me. He gently rubs my sides, soon stopping to snuggle into my breasts, seemingly deciding that this nest of our torn clothing would be our bed for the night.

Josh always reminded me of a Great Dane in a way. Despite being a lot bigger than me, there was always enough space on top of me for cuddles in his eyes. It was always quite amusing to me each time his large form would envelope my own. I continue to pet his hair, soft strands threading through my fingers with each touch. He let's out a huff in contentment and kisses my left breast, the sensation of his lips on my skin being absorbed through my flesh and meeting my heart to caress it with the love he feels for me.

"Thank you..." He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower and coming out more like a purr due to his exhaustion. My eyes focus on him as he closes his eyes, taking one more deep breath and then continuing his sentence a mere second before he falls into a peaceful slumber on top of me. "For everything..."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[afreakingdork]

I would like to share something that happened to me I thought was funny.

I was just going about my day when I started thinking about Weak Spot sequel, Soft Spot(? I hope I got that right, I can’t remember atm), how I’m eager and giddy waiting for its release. Once again reminding myself to be patient, the thought popped into my head that this feels like waiting for Donnie and Reader to return from their honeymoon 😆

I got a giggle from it I hope you do too. I also hope your break is going well and am sending you lots of love

(Disclaimer: I am strongly expressing that this is absolutely in NO F*CKING way asking for when you’ll be releasing it. There is no need for even a comment on it so once you’ve finished reading this disclaimer, tear it up, burn it and forget it.)

Howdy-o cringey!

Soft Spot is indeed the name of Weak Spot's sequel! Great job remembering! Omigosh, you are so freaking right; it's totally like we're waiting for them to get back! I love that! I'm stealing that!

My breaks been something! I just finished my mega 3 week birthday gauntlet (/pos) and my best friend was then here for two more weeks past that (/posx3) so I've been going non-stop and only just this week did I have my first break! I did have a minor meltdown (all good) but it was because I wasn't working on fics, which is hilarious. I've always said that I don't write because I want to, but because I have to! I've been doing a lot of editing on a mysterious (only because I haven't talked about it) teen rated Donnie x reader that I have a feeling will be clearing it's final hurdle and will start posting soon! It's basically done and will be 20 chapters.

For Soft Spot, I need to re-watch a few movies to make sure I've got my facts and inspiration down. I've already done a whole bit where I watched Father of the Bride one and two and had some folks who know more about the whole pregnancy song and dance and were super gracious let me absolutely annihilate them taking notes (y'all are the best @morning-sun-brah @geminiforest @grumpytheunicorn and @thepinkpanther83 sorry I'm in a shout out sort of mood!) I've assembled the timeline (mostly) and have a feeling that bad boy will start coming out next month!

Thanks for checking in and I'm sending that love right back! Also I love being the yellow birb struck with love!

P.S. I didn't feel pressured at all 😉

[imagineryupfuckedworld]

Hi there! Could I get Campbell Saunders x gem reader headcanons where instead of getting back with Maya after she kisses Zig, he breaks up with her officially and he gets with the reader instead and they’re just super fluffy and maybe she helps him with his mental health? She encourages him to quit hockey since it’s making him unhappy and to instead play basketball since he liked it. Just an overview of them having an actual overview of their supportive and loving relationship! Thank you — 🪼🫧✨

Hello there! And of course you can! I must say, I paused re-watching Degrassi so I could be a bit rusty in Campbells Character. Please have mercy with me! >~< Fandom: Degrassi Characters: Campbell Saunders, Reader, Mentions of Maya and Zig Warnings: Mention of mental health issues, a bit swearing and angst, fluuuff~

Cam was SO disappointed in Maya, when she told him that she kissed Zig but he felt like he couldn't really be mad at her, seeing how he behaved before.

good thing, his best friend was next to him and went off on Maya for him.

"Cam may could have behaved differently, that is right, but you! You kissed someone else! That is cheating plus it was your best friends boyfriend?! Who does that?! Cam has every fucking right to be disappointed!" Said boy was flabbergasted at the outbreak of his best friend. Not only him but all present people. He let himself get dragged away from the Scene, Maya calling out to him but Cam didn't hear it.

It took a long and intense talk and many snacks with Cam to assure him it is okay to feel how he does right now

He wanted to reconcile with Maya at first but the conversation with you made him reconsider, thinking that maybe it was better to not go back.

Maya tried to win him back for a few weeks with Zig trying to get her all the while Tori was furious wit both of them

In the meantime, you and Cam got even closer then before as in, the shy boy actually got every ounce of bravery together to ask you out! Of course you said yes, duh!

Cam waspacing the hallway up and down, mumbling something under his breath while Tori watched him doing so. "Just...do it! I bet you won't get rejected!" His steps came to a stop and he looked at Tori with an incredulous look. The boy was nervous, more nervous than he was before any Hockey game. "But...what if I do get rejected? I would destroy or friendship! Maybe we won't ever talk again and" "Aaallright. Stop! This won't happen. I am absolutely sure about that!" "You are sure about what?" Cam spinned around so fast he almost tripped over his own feat when you popped up behind them both. "Nothing!" Tori rolled her eyes befor giving Cam a soft nudge with an encouragin smile before she said goodbye and left. You thought it was weird how she just left. "I am sorry, did I interrupted-" "Wilyougooutwithme?!" You blinked slowly, once, twice. Trying to process what Cam asked you before your cheeks started to get warmer. The hockeyplayer was almost sure you would reject him efore you smiled brightly at him. "Of course!" A weight was lifted from Cams heart and the boy smiled as brightly as you.

Cam started to open up to you and you realised the boy has problems that should be taken serious

So you started to actively help Cam an you started by getting him out of this damn Hockey Team that was everthing that good for him

"I can't! They need me and you know that! I am the best player on the team!" A sigh left your lips at how stubborn Cam was. He was indeed right but you can see how bad it was for him. "I know and you are! But Cam, these people aren't good for you! Look at how they are! You aren't like that! You are so much better than these Jerks!" Cam opens his mouth as if wanting to say something but nothing came out. He was defeated, easily by you. He coulder never go against you even less when you take his hand in yours and look at him with those lovely eyes of yours. Oh shoot! He is starring again!

It was hard, at the beginning to not be the perfect Cam anymore. To no be a member of the Hockey Players and all but you could easily see how much better off Cam was.

Cam was still a bit awkward but he cheered up so much without the his Teammates pressuring him and all that.

His mental health was, of course, not magically cured and the problems are still there but it was hard for Cam to come to terms that he was, in fact, not healthy.

You had many conversations with him about his mental health. You are no doctor so you can't say for sure what is wrong but you know there was something.

Cam didn't liked to talk about it and at first he sometimes blocked conversation fully.

But you still stayed at his side and encouraged him to try out therapy.

Cam was so scared. He was glad when you offered to accompany him.

You not only brought him there, he wanted you to sit with in. Seeing that you are his biggest support he really needed you there.

He hold your hand so tightly, he apologized afterwards for it.

Cam is so gratefull for you, in everyway.

You helped him get out of the Hockey team, supporte him from start to now with his journey on getting better with his mental health, you have so much patience and what not. He could talk about you from dawn to dusk. In short, he loves you much more than anyone else.

I hope you like it!

[raptorsaurusmelain]

Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 11

Guess who go permission to leave their work before time because they had a high efficiency ? me.

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Victoria drank the last bit of her tea after her lunch. [I should buy a bigger gourd…]

She heard a knock on the door of her office. “You can enter !”

She was surprised to see Crewel enter the room. “Professor Crewel ? What can I do for you ?”

Crewel had a faint smile. “I am sorry to disturb you Mrs Devi…”

Victoria cut him “Please call me ‘Victoria’, I am tired of hearing ‘Mrs Devi’. It is my mom.”

Crewel nodded. “Very well… Victoria, I need help, one of the shelves of my classroom is dangerously leaning toward the ground.”

Victoria laughed, imagining the scene. “Ok, let me grab my tool and I am following you.”

Once in the classroom, the woman was flabbergasted. “It is not just ‘leaning toward the ground’, it is on the verge of breaking !”

Crewel protested like a child. “To my defense, it wasn’t this bad before lunch !”

Victoria laughed. “Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say… Let’s repair this bad boy. But first we need to empty it.”

Crewel helped her, since it was in a particular order and it needed to be careful.

Victoria then pulled out her phone and watched “... How to repair a shelf 101 ? Aren’t you supposed to be a jack of all trades ?” Asked the man.

The woman looked at him dead panned. “We can’t know everything. But WeTube has all the knowledge of the world.” 

Crewel smiled. “Good thinking.”

When they finished watching the video, Victoria repaired the shelf like she could with the help of Crewel. “I think we need to redo a new one… Don’t you have an Ikea here ?”

Crewel blinked. “A … Ikea ? What are you on about ?”

Victoria scratched her cheek. “I don’t know the equivalent here, but a store where you can buy every type of furniture in the world for a cheap price.”

Crewel answered. “Oh, I see. Like an Akea.”

[Well, close enough…]

Victoria nodded. “I see we have many things that have approximately the same name.”

Crewel nodded too. “So except for the magic, we have the same inventions.”

Victoria wondered. “We are not as technologically advanced as you are. I mean you have technomancy and we clearly don’t… In any case it is better for my world, they would try to adapt technomancy and mages as weapons.”

Crewel’s eyes widened. “You still have wars ? Our last one was with the briar valley a few decades ago !”

The lady didn’t answer, but the silence said everything he needed to know. He didn’t know what to answer. “I am so sorry. Your world didn’t deserve it.”

The woman shrugged. “Well, let’s change the subject.” She didn’t like to speak about wars. Too many deaths and illnesses.

Crewel wondered a few seconds before asking, full of curiosity. “What did you study ? I am intrigued by what a woman like you could have studied to land this job..”

The brunette woman looked at him, a grin on her face. “Good question but first… I bet you studied alchemy aaaand I bet you have a thesis in it. You seem like an elite in it.”

The bicolor man was flustered. “Color me flattered. Indeed I have a few patents here and there thanks to my thesis. But you are evading the question, what about you ?”

Victoria laughed. “Well… For what it is worth I have a 2-part diploma for a license in applied physics and a thesis in artificial intelligence. I also have a patent, my good doctor Crewel.”

Crewel laughed with her “I understand better why you don’t want to be called ‘Mrs Devi’. Had enough with your mandatory teaching hours ?”

Victoria wiped away a tear. “Yeah, I had a fun time, but felt old each time I was called ‘Mrs Devi’. But you can call me Dr Devi !”

Crewel tidied himself up. “I will do so then, Dr Devi. And before you say anything, it is not negotiable. You didn’t work your arse off just to be refused the title of doctor. You should respect yourself more.”

She looked at Crewel with sparkling eyes. “Thank you Dr Crewel !”

Once they were done chatting, she went back to her office to put her tools away. The afternoon was just beginning and yet, she didn’t know what to do. 

She sat on her chair and like magic, a new person knocked on her door. She opened it and was greeted by a… Red mantle. Surprised, she asked. “Hello, Professor Trein, what can I do for you ?”

Trein was uneasy. “I… Just wanted to apologize for my earlier remarks.” 

Lucius added in a plaintive. “Meoooow.” 

Victoria was surprised. “Oh no worries, I didn’t take it badly. I had disturbed your class after all.”

The cat tried to wiggle his way to her. The woman was totally distracted by the animal. “Can I hold him ? As an apology.” She winked.

The older man sighed and handed his cat. “Of course.”

She grabbed him delicately. Lucius purred loud. He was finally near the honey milk scent. He was in Heaven. And even more, she began to scratch him under the ear.

He ascended to Heaven.

While Lucius was literally melting inside Victoria, who was laughing a little about the limp cat, Trein had a little smile. “Do you like cats ? You know how to handle them well.”

Victoria looked at him in the eyes, a big smile on her face. “I love them. My mother has one, a Birman. I just didn’t have the financial stability to have one during my studies so I don’t have one. It is for the best apparently, since I disappeared from my world. I miss them.”

Trein had a little cough. “Well, if you ever miss them too much, you can come see Lucius. He will be more than happy to see you.”

Lucius had a pleased meow. Victoria looked at Lucius interrogatively. The older man answered her question. “He says he would love too.”

Victoria’s eyes sparkled as if the whole universe were in them. “REALLY ??? AWESOME !!”

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 3x13 Life Support thoughts (I'm re-watching, so there may be future spoilers)

Unlucky 13 indeed...

"In fact I was thinking of cancelling them." Jake's so sweet :3

What else do you eat in a Klingon restaurant apart from gagh? Clearly I am uneducated in Klingon cuisine

"Move! Move!" Is it always like this, living on a space station? Always interesting to see things happening from a civilian pov

Odo informing Kira <3

Her unhappy little pacing :( 💔

This is such a serious scene but I cannot take the doctors seriously ever in those red surgical costumes

Julian's face of bad news is just something so important to me

Wait Bareil's dead? I thought this episode was about keeping him alive?

"I did everything I could." "I know you did." My heart...

"I appreciate your concern but I'll grieve in my own way in my own time." The way her voice is cracking.. this scene just destroyed me

"We're ready to begin the autopsy, Doctor." ... the way he just stands there

"You say that so calmly, but it's not every doctor that can lose a patient and then has him back on his feet in a few weeks." Sisko sounds so proud and impressed <3

"Well, I and the Prophets, were lucky..." :3

"And I am grateful you were not yet taken from us, Vedek Bareil." YOU'LL FORCE HIM TO DIE SOON, WINN. SHUT UP.

"So, are we going to be playing springball next month?" Kira being so pleased to see him is breaking my heart. It's not fair.

Jake being so nervous to tell Nog he's skipping on their plans but Nog being immediately like nah dating is more important. He's a good friend :3

Ohhhh, nope, he just wants to have a date too, welp

"Just promise me you won't do anything to embarrass me." Oh no, it's this episode

Julian coming in looking grim and glaring daggers at Winn

Oh. Bad news.

"In your condition, it could even be fatal." "But it would allow me to function normally for the next few days?" Dammit, Bareil, don;t choose this

Ohhh, Julian. He has such a troubled face <3

"There are no Bajoran prisoners." HAH, a likely story

Detainees? What happened to swift Cardassian justice?

"What... sort of property?" (This space station for instance?) This is the right question to ask

I don't think the Cardassians are doing this in good faith...

"He's up to something." For once, Winn, I agree with you!

"If he dies, then peace with Cardassia dies with him." Sisko's eye roll at that was impressive

Ughhhh Nog is horrible

Pause pause pause. I can't watch this scene.

Nooooo. The second hand embarrassment for Jake is too real.

I know they eventually grow and get past this but this is so awful agggghgh

Okay. Let's go again.

Those girls did the right thing. Proud of them for standing up for themselves.

"His attention has been wandering. He's in pain. Give him more of the drug." You horrible, horrible woman. You don't care about him one whit.

"Now, you can either leave here willingly or I'll call security and have you thrown out." "You won't need to call them. I'll do it myself." KIRA <3 <3 <3 Please bodily throw this woman out of your station.

"Put yourself in the hands of the Prophets, Bareil. They will not forsake you." YOU MANIPULATIVE WOMAN I HATE YOU

I mean, it is very much Bareil's choice it seems and not just Winn forcing him herself, but she should have SOMEONE who is capable of doing the role Bareil was playing rather than having to run him to his death

"He should be awake within the hour. Oh, good. There are still several points I have to discuss with him before the next negotiating session." Your oh good should be followed with concern for his health not satisfaction you can keep politicking with him!

"I want you to tell him that you don't need him." Julian is just so good

"Now, if that's a lie, then so be it." "That doesn't sound like a Starfleet officer." "I'm a doctor first."

Sisko being a good dad <3 Telling Jake to talk this through and recognising how important Nog is to him.

"Do the surgery, Julian. Let him finish what he started." Oh Kira, I'm sorry you're in such a difficult position <3 You're doing great, sweetie <3

"I want to be arrested." XD Odo's face of confusion is marvellous

Odo is enjoying this way too much

"When you touch me it doesn't seem real." Oh Kira. how do you cope with something like this?

His out of touch acting is sure something

"I guess I just forgot you're a Ferengi." "You forgot? To most people, the lobes are a dead giveaway." XD This episode being saturated with these two's nonsense sure is something

I really like the moral of respecting each other's differences, and that humans aren't automatically right and better, but in this particular episode it's also kind of icky.... It's taken me a while to put my finger on it, but I don't think humans should have to respect the ferengi's misogyny, just because it's their culture. Your right to have your traditions respected ends when your traditions hurt or harm other beings.

"Great, so we both disgust each other." XD

"I don't want to lose you as s friend." awwww

"Now can we get out of here?" "Sure. Odo? Odo? He's just playing around. Odo!" Do you boys even know Odo? XD

I'm glad the treaty was signed at least. I've been so worried his death would be for nothing.

"I can't imagine what I've done deserves celebration." Oh, my love. you're too good.

Jadzia hugging him :3 He should get more hugs. Look at his lil face

"Kai Winn, allow me to introduce Kai Winn." "I don't understand." "In honour of the occasion, I've named my latest creation after you." I really can't guess how she'll feel about that.

"I won't remove whatever last shred of humanity Bareil has left." I wonder how close this hits with his own feelings of not being human due to his augmentations?

"Sure. You've got your peace treaty, your place in history. You don't need Bareil anymore." SAY IT, KIRA. GO FOR HER

"I share your pain." SHUT UP. The hell you do!

"Julian, you can't give up now. You have to keep going." "Nerys, if I remove the rest of his brain ... He'll be dead. And I'll be the one who killed him." This conversation is KILLING me. These two. Both of you having so many feelings. Oh my darlings <3

"But if we do nothing he'll die." "That's right, he will." I cannot. His voice is just too gentle. I love him

What I don't get is why didn't they ask Bareil while he was still conscious what he would want to do if the other half of his brain failed? I guess Julian probably wouldn't have wanted to risk hearing the request to replace the whole of his brain....

"I just wish we'd had more time for us." 💔 Oh, Kira.

" I realised you were just as confused as the rest of us. You just accepted your confusion better than anyone I've ever known. That's when I realised I loved you."

This episode is just. Feels. I'm crying. Nerys and Julian, my beloveds.

There are quite a few fics about this episode, but this one was just SO good, it read as a completely believable, canonical part 2, and I have to share it.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex's Blossom By Kate Winborne Annotations.

Hello, hello, hello! SO! This has been a project that I have been working on since August of 2022. I have been re-reading and annotating Blossom by Kate Winborne or @xmichaelmyers here on tumblr. I love Blossom, it is a fantastic book and when the hardcover update came out I just had to get it! So I did and when I did I thought why not write my thoughts out as I go? I have never annotated a book before. Kate didn’t ask this of me, I am not being paid, this is purely out of the sheer love I have for Kate, her work and these characters. So! Settle in and watch me scream in a spoiler heavy annotation of Blossom. Seriously I talk about spoilery things, if you haven’t read it and want to than please read the book first. 

I am going to annotate the next book After The Lamb Bites Back in smaller chunks as I go when I start reading it soon and will post them here on my blog so you can experience my going insane as it is happening! I will give notice and give this a tag if you wanna blacklist for spoilers! Now, under the cut, let’s get into it! Warnings for me being horny on main and discussions of heavy topics and violence and gore. (P.S. Food is a big thing in this book so I outline what I ate before and during and after my reading sessions to be extra.)

—

Starting at 7:41 PM on August 5th. Blossom Re-read of the hardcover edition. Dinner: Chili lime fish tacos with pickled red onions, salsa and chipotle mayo, drinking whisky and ginger ale over ice, snacking on while reading, salted caramel caramilk bar. 

What Kate wrote inside the cover is still so sweet. As is the foreword, so much love and so much excitement. 

Prolog:

The opening of the women watching their daughters in the park, still hits. That is the first thing from the book I ever read when Kate started posting and it still stands out so well. I want white wine and cheese now. 

It is wild how Kate can drop a fucking line about a throw away character, one we just meet, overdosing three hours later, someone we know nothing of and should not give a fuck about and are made to feel and care. Amazing, haunting, I feel bad for his son. 

THE WHORE IS HERE.

THE TREES KNOW MORE THAN THEY DARE SAY INDEED!

–

Chapter One

–

I love the description of us truly seeing him, it is so evocative. Also. I am weak. Professor Williamson, has such a good ring to it. 

Henry in the showerrrr. All of that is good but the man just going for it and getting off. Amazing image, ten outta ten. 

The man eating one packet of oatmeal and not even finishing it and whiskey for dinner while watching a nature show. This man. He needs someone to cook for him. I am that someone. 

The first sex scene of the book, Henry taking home a woman from Happy’s is short but vivid. A great insight into him. Henry is not satisfied by this encounter, to me, when reading it, the impression that she is seemingly so into it, so close and intimate, doesn’t make him feel comforted or seen, but rather the opposite. It makes him feel more hollow, more aware of the hunger inside of himself. This is one of the parts I kept thinking about knowing this re-read was coming. Henry is entirely unknowable, this woman and her illusion of closeness only serves to remind him of that. No one can know him, there are things about him that no one could ever understand and so he has to hide them, forget about the fact that he does NOT have the ability to allow someone so close to him or tolerate such vulnerability and honesty and emotional intimacy. What a lonely fucking guy. 

The detail of a single hair left behind that he curls around his finger until it breaks really stands out.

He’s got a new casssse!

—

Chapter Two.

—

The casual and consistent use and description of colours is one of my longest standing faves in this book. So effective! 

Henry shoving the bible into the nightstand out of sight? Fucking same dude. My guy!

The man packing the alcohol in his bag so fucking neatly to make sure it is safe. To then get drunk and pass the fuck out. He is not okay.

Ahhhhh this discription of The Town is so fucking good!

“-residing alongside the trauma that coated her tongue like honey, sweet as ripe tangerines, but bitter against the back of her throat like coffee grounds.”  I still think of this line often. It will pop into my head unbidden frequently.

—

Chapter Three.

—

Henry looking down at his medication with disdain before swallowing them down with cold coffee making me like, hey king you need to talk? Need your dick sucked? You know my number get at me.

I would eat at this hotel's breakfast. I really would. 

Blossom is officially here! Vanilla almond milk latte, as someone who has worked in coffee shops since seventeen on and off, reads as a very her drink. 

I have always really loved the description of Bethany. The detail of her avocado socks always stuck out. Considering the use of colour Kate applies throughout the whole book I know I should think of them being just the colour avocado, but part of me likes to think of them as printed with little cartoon avocados and that is cute as fuck and I love it. 

Blossom sees Henry for the very first time! God, the excitement I feel from this is far too much! 

“She wanted to crack him open like an egg, spool through his brains, his guts, burrow herself deep inside his roughness. As if there was a safety to it all. A home in all that damage.” The first line that really hooked me my first read and it still hits. It is a line just so full of, God, promise of so much shit to come.

Henry met Sophie and this time around, I feel differently about it just her saying that nothing bad has ever happened in this town is just, infuriating? On a deep level. Nothing bad has ever happened here? Really Soph? Not even in your own home? You fuck.

I am begging, begging the people in The Town to acknowledge the horrors in front of them as if I am Charlie Day in It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia ranting about Pepe Silvia.  

Sophie seeing Blossom staring and being like “Please, for once, PLEASE-” and Blossom being like “Ahahaha, no! <3.” Adore it.

—

Chapter Four.

—

Norman has arrived. He wants a steak before seven thirty. This man is an animal and not in the good way. Henry’s reaction is appropriate for once, I too, am disgusted.

Stop judging Sophie! The man BARELY eats, he needs all the nutrition he can get! Let him have his fucking raspberry pie and ice cream!

Discussion of the first two murders. Henry is much too excited by the prospect of a serial killer, which bitch, same?!

Henry going into the detail of the first real gruesome crime scene he was sent to like damn, DAMN! FUCK KATE!

Henry talking shop! About the pattern, how confident, talking about the killer being addicted, the parallels. Mannnn. 

PROLONGED EYE CONTACT!

Finished reading for tonight at 10:11 PM. 60 pages covered this first session. 

—

Wednesday August 10th. Second session. Starting at 9:20 Pm. Off tomorrow. Dinner: Peanut and sesame noodles with chilli oil and green onion. More whiskey with ginger ale over ice. Snacking on hot cheetos and a crispy caramel kit-kat while reading. 

—

Chapter Five.

—

Oh the HOSPITAL! YES!

Tv is on a cooking channel because of course it is. 

Henry just cutting the small talk short asdfghjkajshglakhdg, “Take me to the bodies FRANK-” And Frank being like “If you got the stomach for it.” Like Frank. Honey. You know nothing of this man. 

Henry being totally unfazed by the smell of the dead. This man is not okay. (This will be said many times throughout this.) 

Why, why, why do I love this passage so much? Talking about how Henry looks over the body? The image is so crystal clear. It is almost like I am in the room. Like I can smell the bleach as I look over his shoulder, watching as he inspects the cadaver below him, watching how the bright harsh lighting catches on the cold thick blood clotting between his gloved fingers? I can see Henry at this moment. Like I could just reach out and touch him. How can something like this be written in a way that is so telling, so intimate yet so detached? It is captivating as hell. Just like Henry himself.  This was another moment during my first read though that made me want to know more about him.

“Coffee, yeah. Thanks.” That is such a human moment that just reeks of reality. A phrase I have heard uttered a million times in my line of work and I can hear how it was said perfectly. The little details really make this. 

Shit coffee indeed, let me make this man a good cup of coffee PLEASE-

He needs a fresh body!!!

—-

Chapter Six.

—-

Man is so particular about his coffee honestly I love what it adds to his character. It says SO much by saying so little. 

Oh my God and Mr.Clemmington was a cook.

Henry hating small talk makes so much sense. What an asshole. Love him.

Name drop! Blossom James ooooohhh.

“Anyway, I hope no girl in this town is capable of such a thing…” Oh giiiirlll. You don’t know shit about shit. 

Henry taking his pills with leftover coffee with cigarette ash in it like SIR can you PLEASE take care of yourself even just a little?!

Henry, you need more than dry cereal for dinner. 

—

Chapter Seven.

—

Henry’s breakfast, coffee, cigarettes and fucking twizzlers apparently. 

Watching him at work is captivating. Henry rattling off what should be done and in what order is justttt a sickening delight. What a freak.

Ethan is missing. And Henry is a little too defensive. “I didn’t say anything.” Mmmhmmm. You didn’t have to. 

—

Chapter Eight.

—

Henry deadass like “We are looking for a body-” and Norman just, “Oh you’d like that sooooo much wouldn’t you?!” Uh. Yeah. Duh dude, he’s the worst. 

Ethan and Blossom went out, eh? Oooh boy. 

This chapter is short but so fucking gooood. I love how they haven’t even formally met and he is getting frustrated by her! The build up and teasing before we really get to know her is just so fucking delicous.

—

Chapter Nine.

—

The description of the hotel’s restaurant is another stand out. I can imagine myself sitting there, smelling the vanilia of the candles and partaking in the food, almost as if I can taste the vegetable medley myself. 

I love Blossom's dress, periwinkle is an underrated colour and the meaning of her wearing it here, tonight, during their first official meeting is not lost on me and the impact is strong.

They are sitting, they are talkING-

Blossom clearly has thoughts about Ethan. I can hear the bite of the way she says ‘Golden boy’ and it is telling. 

“Henry.” Whore. Him. Not her. He is the whore. Like call me Henry, the fuck IS that?! Asking her to use your first name? Mmm? Already so informal? Like a slut? Have you no shame?

“Picky with your food.” “If you’d call it that.” The TENSION! I’ve already read this before but I am still so like !!!!

“-he just didn’t fuck me anymore.” girl fucking say it. 

“Do you like me Henry?” I mean fuck how could he not?

Oh mannnn another masturbation scene hell yeah baby! Unlike the first one this one lingers for longer and it is good. The idea that he doesn’t even necessarily enjoy the act of this, it is a means to an end, an annoyance, it’s a mix of anger, of disgust, of maintenance, of hatred, it’s this balance that is just so fucking right. The idea of hating the act of this is just, so interesting to me. Not just from a narrative perspective, not just for the way it lets us into Henry’s mind, but because it is so utterly different and conflicting from my own personal feelings about the act. Not even the act as he is doing it but my own relationship with it on a deep and personal level, the differences between he and I, they don’t divide me from his character, if anything, they intrigue me further, beckoning me to know him. 

“The taste of her name as sweet as the frost-glazing of a strawberry filled cake, flowering in his chest until it choked him.” Pure poetry. Gorgeous. Perfect. Another stand out line. Makes me think of so much, the images of digging my fingers into a pretty little decorated cake, of ripping and tearing and splitting it open simply to destroy something beautiful, to mirror what Blossom is already doing to Henry in such a short time, to then just lick the mashed and sugary strawberry mixture of the filling from my fingers, just because, flit through my mind while reading this line. What is this book capable of? The things it can conjure up cannot be understated. 

Hot, hot, hot. Love he was still half dressed and just spills himself onto the sheets. 

—

Finished second session at 10:53 PM. 45 pages covered in the second session. Word count over 2K now. 

—

Such a large break happened because of me leaving my previous job, moving into a new town and starting a new job, better late than never, I am back on it!

Starting this session at 11:02 AM on January 17th, a Tuesday, I have the day off today. Breakfast was cereal, I am having ice water and no snack because I will break for lunch soon. 

—

Chapter Ten.

— 

 I adore the description of Blossom’s house, it is so clear that just like all things Kate writes, a ton of thought was put into every detail. 

More food, this reminds me I should make meatloaf again soon,

“Seeing the Agent made her hungry.” I fucking LOVE. 

“Breathing out with the softness of a flowering bruise, tender and hesitant.” Kate I simultaneously want to kiss and punch you for always doing this! You throw out just the best fucking lines so damn casually. As if we are roommates, I finished a long day at work, sitting at the kitchen table and you just stride into the room, drop one of the most profound things I have ever heard and then just waltz off back to your own space as if it were nothing and I am not left changed and struggling to contend with what you just forced upon me. That is what lines like this feel like and do to me. Does that make sense?

And here it is, another real heart stopping and revealing moment of what makes Blossom her. You just know from the jump that there is something more to her, and this passage makes it abundantly clear and makes you feel for her. While I personally have experienced my fair share of this sort of thing in my own life it is of course, like a lot of stories, different from what she has but my heart goes out to her. Why can’t Blossom use, abuse, and take from these men as they have taken from her? Why not?

This chapter isn’t long but it doesn’t need to be, it is honestly very necessary and I love the look into Blossom alone and at home. 

—

Chapter Eleven.

—

Man fell asleep still dressed and cum covered. What a fucking whore, what an inspiration, what a guy. How down bad am I, do you ask? So bad that I read this and my first thought was, “I could fix that. Fuck the shower, I have a mouth-” With all the coffee he drinks, his alcohol problem and the smoking his cum must taste terrible. Still wouldn’t stop me.

I love this so much. Having Blossom showering in the last chapter towards the end and Henry at the next towards the start and difference in how they do even down to the temperature they prefer, amazing. 

Back at the diner, another meeting, more tension and of course, more food. It is impossible to read this and not get hungry and also slightly nauseated at points, it is beautiful. 

“-reached for more, satisfying herself in front of him.” I fucking canNOT. 

I love any scene with them talking back and forth.

This is so fucking good, she is getting to him so easily and just how unapologetically she is eating. Also, “But you’re not sorry. Why would you be?” Might be one of my fave quotes so far, it stuck out my last reading as well. 

Interrupting Henry when he immediately assumes the killer is a man and her fighting him on it. 

“Don’t underestimate the rage of a woman, Special Agent.” YEAH HENRY! And maybe it WAS a threat. What are you gonna do about it? 

Invite Blossom to the search part apparently.

—

Chapter Twelve. 

—

I feel it is important to mention at this juncture that I cannot read in silence so I have on a thunderstorm in the woods audio going and it feels just totally perfect for reading this

Henry runs through the details of the practised lie of what happened between him and his wife with a shocking amount of detachment, but not that shocking for him.

Mr.Whitmore you should learn to like, I dunno, lie better. 

The cropped tea and pink bell bottoms is unironically one of my favourite Blossom looks described in this book. 

This conversation, the back and forth and talking about favourite colours, their characters really shine here, another stand out moment. After having read this once before Henry saying “Blue” and knowing what will come later, I had to put the book down for a moment, and not just to type up this annotation. 

“How old are you, Blossom?” “Eighteen.” Old enough to legally...Vote. But on the real again the tension in this scene, sharing the cigarette, the closeness, just THIS. 

A body has been discovered! 

Blossom admitting she doesn’t feel anything upon seeing the disgusting corpse is just so fucking good. 

Chapter twelve was fucking great, I forgot how much happened in this one chapter, a total fave. 

—

Chapter Thirteen.

—

Blossom and Henry are just lying to police now, alright, alright. 

Short but to the point, I enjoy the small details in this one. Describing the grotesque nature of the body especially was very effective. 

Also the forgetting a clipboard and letting Blossom write on his back, cute, realistic, adore it.

Course you can’t pass up a fresh corpse Henry you fucking freak. 

—

Chapter Fourteen.

—

The entertainment centre! I remember simply adoring this next chapter, I am excited!

Grilling Mr.Whitmore on why he works here occasionally. Henry you are so, so transparent and projecting really hard here. Being so critical with him being so close to the teenagers when what are you doing with Blossom? You woke up splattered in your own cum after passing out post-nut, post-jack sesh thinking about a certain eighteen year old blonde, remember? 

More Henry and Blossom talking <3

“Oh, come on. You can’t deny that…You don’t look at all these…Preppy, skimpy seventeen and eighteen year old girls and don’t think about when you were that age with the impulse control of a twelve year old.” HENRY! 

“No. I don’t. Because I’m not seventeen, or eighteen anymore, Henry. And neither are you.” “Doesn’t mean I still can’t look.” He is so fucking gross. And yet…

I do feel for ol Norm here but at the same time he really does need to let Henry do his damn  job. 

“We’ll see if the Coopers are ready to talk and resume the work on Monday. I’m sure the killer will understand.” What a note to go out on Henry damn.

A knock on the door? This late? Who could it be? I ask having fully read this book before.

I was right by the way, this chapter was so good and so engrossing.

—

 Chapter Fifteen. 

—

Of course it’s Blossom who is here. Obviously. Who else?

Naturally she comes in. 

Absent mom and a dead mom. Gotta love two people with mommy issues getting together. 

I find myself unable to pull away during their conversations, they are just still so engaging to read. That being said, “Why don’t you like white wine?” “I’ve always preferred something stronger. Something that bites.” Oh I bet you do.

She’s making the move, SHE’S MAKING THE MOVE-

The description of Henry here, hands up, not looking at her, trying very, very hard to maintain his composure and will and not touch her. Oof. 

They are kissing! This is where it all starts to really go tits up and I am so here for it.

“We shouldn’t be doing this-” Oh but you’re gonna Henry, you are, we all know it just do it!

He really is trying here, and he does make a good point, they shouldn’t get involved with each other like this but that is part of what makes it so good!!!

She isn’t wearing any panties. 

Man is done for. 

And he gives in! Get it Henry! I wish that were me. Who in this scenario? Like a true bisexual. Both. 

Just going for it and with no protection! Henry, you animal. 

His garden. This whole section is phenomenal. People could learn a thing or two about writing sex scenes from reading how Kate does it!

Kate’s work is just mind blowing. It is incredible how she writes the differences between Henry and Blossom post their first time together. For him feeling like he can breathe for the first time in years and her imagining becoming one with the forest, consumed with rot and dying like the way they view sex and each other is so intensely fascinating. It just so interesting too because I have felt like Blossom has, chest feeling scooped out and hollow and empty but never relating to sex, reading this book with just how different my perspective on physicality with another human from there's never bores me.

“RISE AND SHINE, ASSHOLE, NEW DAY! AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE NOW!”  That is just this book and Henry’s life all over, huh? A good alternate tagline. 

Ahhhhh a dream sequence and such a fucking good one! The imagery in this is immaculate, the one that stands out to me the most is the mention of Blossom’s hair in a high ponytail tied with a pink ribbon, so fucking good and so clever. Blossom becoming a literal monster and tearing him apart, what do you think it means Henry? C’mon, THINK!

Another fantastic chapter, of course.

—

Chapter Sixteen. 

—

He is making her breakfast. Also blueberry pancakes are in fact the best, I will not take criticism at this time. 

“Colour me impressed.” My gesturing to a board covered with papers and tacked with pins, red strings connecting seemingly random things and moments, “It all comes back to COLOUR! IT’S ALWAYS ABOUT THE COLOUR! DO YOU SEE-”

“Yet, there was still nothing ever as tooth-rotting as Blossom James.” I am punching the air!

—

Chapter Seventeen.

—

Her being so excited to see him oh my GOD. “I missed you.” “You always miss me.” Things that happen between me and my husband all the time, no word of a lie.

Planning secret meetings ooooooh.

“I want you to do exactly what you wanted to do the day we found Ethan.” Blossom. Have I told you lately how much I love you?

Also I love the little jump here. The few weeks and the mention of just how many times and places they have fucked thus far, they have clearly been very busy. 

Fucking right next to the scene of the crime, extremely risky but also, extremely hot.

This is all fucking amazing. The depth, the feeling, Blossom’s and Henry’s worry and doubt and hungry fervour for one another being so all consuming constantly. The question of how does this end is a good one to leave the chapter with.

How will it all end?

—

Chapter Eighteen.

—

Kate describes kisses in a million ways and I am here for all of them. Preppy and sickening or otherwise. 

This man smokes. So fucking much my God. Third read I should do a cigarette counter. 

Henry drinking and getting sloppy and good ol Norm comes to the rescue. 

Bro. Dude. Asking for Blossom in your drunken stupor is not going to help anyone or anything my GOD DUDE!

He is such a fucking messss.

—

Chapter Nineteen.

—

Yeah you forgot your shit at the bar you fucking walking embarrassment of a man Henry.

I’m part of the Abby fanclub. 

I really like Sophie and Norm interacting. It totally reads that they have known each other a very long time and I love the easy and playful air between them both very much. A joy to read. 

The suspensions are not misplaced Sophie, not at all.

Blossom comes by to bring a lot more than just coffee in this scene that is for damn sure. Norm is really trying to give Henry the benefit of the doubt and struggling. I think he is almost trying too hard to convince himself but as he told Sophie before, what else can he do?

Another great chapter with more tension. I am stopping for now to break for lunch. I am thinking of an egg salad sandwich. It is 1:34 PM. I covered 110 pages this round, over halfway through the book. This has been the longest session so far and the doc is now over 4,000 words. 

—

It is January 29th, a Sunday, it is 12:31 PM, I have the day off and the laundry going as I sit down for this session. I had a sleep in and a late breakfast of an open faced sandwich consisting of egg and honey ham with chive cream cheese and hashbrowns. Water and no snack again. 

—

Chapter Twenty.

—

Blossom is having a party and again, I love the outfit described here, it is one of the first ones I think of, totally iconic and so her. 

Blossom in the bathroom with some fucking guy and this guy, Kyle, God, I hate him. Hated him the first read, hate him this one too, what a complete shit stain. 

I hate and love how real this is. It is just so fucking sickening because it is so common and happens all the damn time and has happened to her how many times? I wish Blossom would, I wish she would rip his teeth out, or scream or something but I know all too well what can happen in these scenarios and why she doesn’t. God, Kate, stop being such a good writer all the time damn it!

This is the kind of part that makes me want to reach in the pages and kill Kyle myself. Reminding myself he is a fictional character means nothing because Henry and Blossom are fictional too, you know? But the feelings they make me feel are real, what I get from reading this book is real and while they aren’t real living breathing people, Kate writes them so well they feel like they are. Even if they are fictional and I am real and I cannot touch them in a tangible way, this asshole, Kyle is fictional just as they are and therefore can and chooses to do harm and the threat of Blossoms hurt by him feels so sharp I could cut myself on it. 

“Did you cum?” Kill yourself Kyle you pathetic rapist fuckwad. 

Mr.Whitmore why are you at a high schooler’s party exactly???

“Rather, there was a tenderness to his bruising touch.” Kate. Girl. I am eating this line. Crushing it up and snorting it, need it in my bloodstream. 

The drama of it all, neither of them can communicate properly at all like just please can you for once be normal. I say as if I don’t love them at their absolute worst. 

—

Godddd what a fucking chapter, so good, so much happened but not enough to feel like overwhelmed by it, you know? Stellar as to be expected.

—

Before. Technically Chapter Twenty-One.

—

The wife is here. Cindy, poor, poor Cindy. Love the pjs tho.

Siiiigh, you too Henry? I say as I read him about to force himself on his wife as if I have not read this before.

This scene is so hard to talk about but I want to talk about it, you know? Like it is very intense how unintentional it seems to be, he didn’t come home planning to kill his wife, it isn’t a big premeditated thing, also I love how real this is. How he is so comfortable, so sure everything will be fine and cares so much about what he wants or feels he needs that he has no regard for her and pays the heaviest fine for it, her death, being the one that killed her. But also, even though we see him leaning on booze and pills and the rest, the man is still alive, he still goes on living, walking free after he did that.

RIP Cindy, we hardly knew you and you definitely deserved better.

—

Short chapter but it is deff supposed to be, gets across just what it needs to and it hit hard and is insanely effective.

—

Chapter Twenty-Two.

—

Blossom got into the car and now after a short but tense drive they are having a conversation and this conversation my Lord! Henry is totally upset that Blossom is right by the way, she knows he likes how she looks next to him and how she makes him feel but he’s all “oh I’m so much older, my job, my station, my morals-” WHAT MORALS HENRY?

Also Henry has a point, Blossom James does have main character syndrome and is just constantly inserting herself into the narrative but she is fucking interesting as hell and I wanna see her all the time so damn Henry let her live!

“You know nothing about me.” Mmmm don’t be so sure Henry.

Blossom is again correct, you wanted to fuck her from the moment you saw her, don’t deny it you mess of a man!

Him hitting her !, her nose bleeding and her smiling up at him with fucking red teeth, !!, the description I never get tired of reading ever of her being a predator of equal conviction !!!!!!!!!

Like I could go on and on about this section just it is so fucking good! Henry’s complex and swirling emotional state consuming him so thoroughly and being unable to control himself around her! The conflicting wants and feelings and him being just thoroughly unequipped to deal with it all! They are a car crash I cannot look away from, nor would I ever want to. I stare and let the images of them tangled up in a gory flaming pile burn into my retinas until the fumes of spilled gasoline make me literally pass the fuck out. 

Me dancing in my chair as I read how Henry wants to kill and main Blossom, just a nice Sunday afternoon.

Henry saying he doesn’t want to fight her. Like I don’t believe you again Henry,

They are fucking in the carrr! Which like yes, hot, get it, but also, Blossom are you good?

Henry chasisting her over smoking, like, dude. For real?

Blossom calling him Daddy, him calling her disgusting and shotgunning smoke into her mouth, her being so fucking coy and pleased with herself, “And you love it.” Like yeah he does and so do I! Do it again!

Blossom asking him to the fucking dance! THE DANCE IS COMING! AH!

Henry of course you can’t go to the dance you old fuck but also her teasing him about going with a boy her own age and him getting so angry over it has me so amped, like the playfulness on display here it is just all a game to her!

—

I want to make this chapter breakfast in bed and then smash the coffee mug over its head before giving it a big ol kiss.

—

Chapter Twenty-Three.

—

Chinese food late at night in a hotel room sounds so fucking good right now it is unreal.

Okay but now I need a disgustingly detailed section of how exactly Henry eats pussy or do I gotta do that myself? I can do it myself! I just need to know, we know I can deliver it too. I just gotta think on it.

Blossom asking to get choked by him like girl you don’t know what you are asking of him! He CAN hurt you! He wants to! You are meddling in forces you do not understand!

Every little piece and look into Blossoms past is so fucking sad. She has been through so much I hate it. 

Must every guy in Blossom’s life suck so fucking hard?

Also the milk and honey thing coming around and around again is so fucking perfect and apt and slots into this story fucking amazingly well.

Blossom making him breakfast! I would eat what she made, it sounds fucking good honestly.

Another amazingly described kiss that is so fucking perfect I ache.

—

Another banger of a chapter my God I feel so full and spoiled during this re-read.

—

Chapter Twenty Four.

—

Why are all the suspects older dudes? Hum. I wonder.

Also Henry dressed like a total slut today, we love to see it!

Someone who hangs around the younger guys and girls. Man, I wonder who he is thinking of!!!

I could listen to Henry go off about this kind of thing forever, Freud or otherwise.

Stacy do be Stacy though that is for damn sure Norman.

Norman inviting Henry for dinner and asking him for a smile that turns out to be so unsettling that he is just straight up like nevermind please don’t ever do that again oh my God. Perfection. Hilarious. Whenever and I do mean WHEN, not IF, the movie or tv series or whatever adapt of this happens, that detail needs to be left in.

Blossom out alone with a bunch of boys in the woods and drinking, a horrible idea really.

I can hear the “I wasn’t gonna let them do anything, I was just playyingg-” in my head and it is great. Also sure, Blossom.

This girl will not stop running her mouth to save her life. You are gonna get you and Henry in so much trouble!

I don’t blame Sopher for hating Henry, man is always acting suspicious.

And so it comes out again! Henry I think you do have it out for Whitmore and I think it is because you see an uncomfortable amount of yourself in him at times and refuse to acknowledge it. But also yeah Whitmore is really weird, keep an eye on that guy.

Ooooof. Norman laying it down, like he knows what is up! He isn’t dumb Henry! “I hope to fuck I don’t.” Hits so fucking hard.

Man I do not like Sophie but that is totally a ME and my issues thing because she is right about a lot of this.

—

Another fucking awesome chapter, the scene with her in the woods and Henry coming by is another stand out in my mind I find myself thinking of often. 

—

Chapter Twenty-Five.

—

Henry finding the old pictures of Blossom on the fridge and wondering what made her so “hard” like man if you only knew.

God, the imagery you describe Kate everytime it gets to me. Reach into her brains and feel around, discover what is really wrong Henry do it!

The girl was just fucking waiting for him! Also the lingerie sounds cute as fuck.

C’mon Henry we both know you are gonna fuck her, just do it my guy. 

The give and take between them both, the constant fight and unease and just inability to just exist without conflict. Man do I love it. 

Blossom calling him daddy has me feeling some kind of way.

The choose to kiss me thing has my in knots just it is fucking fantastic Kate just truly something else.

The softness and the not wanting to be so vulnerable but being unable to help it.

—

Finished this session at 2:31 PM. Stopping at page 288. I covered 73 pages this time around. The doc is over 5.5K words. Less than 100 pages left to cover. The next annotation session might be my last. Excited to finish strong!

—

It is January 31st, a Tuesday, once again it is my day off. I have less than 100 pages left to cover in Blossom and I am going to attempt to complete the book and the annotations this session. For breakfast I had a fried egg sunny side up on a single slice of buttered toast, topped with green onion and everything bagel seasoning. No snack as I am planning on lunch today, perhaps mac and cheese? I am drinking a country peach herbal tea out of my mug Kate sent, “The Trees Know More Than They Dare Say” stares back at me as I put on more thunderstorms in the forest sounds at 10:56 AM and this new reading session begins.

—

Chapter Twenty-Six.

—

I don’t think I have mentioned it until now but Henry smoking Marlboro’s just makes like way, way too much sense. I can see him holding the classic iconic white and red and gold pack in his hand very clearly.

Henry staring into the forest and wanting to lie down and rot and let it all overtake him in many a similar way that Blossom has is so interesting. Also it makes me wonder like are they just this similar? Or is something up with this forest in particular? But then I remember all the time I have spent in forests and that they are just Like That.

Henry plays nice at the dinner with Norm’s family and I love the honesty of him telling Norm when asked, that he doesn’t give a shit what he thinks but what Stacy thinks actually matters. Good shit, consistent with his character and just an awesome detail. 

Norm filling in Henry on the ‘rumours’ and him brushing it off as just that. Henry is understandably very upset as am I!

Another shower, him gripping the sink and staring at himself in the mirror, again, reminiscent and similar of Blossom earlier. 

Talking about her perfume being on his coats and his pillows, and then this, “She was everywhere. Infecting him.” She so is! I love how slowly it happens but how clear it is here, how much she is burrowed inside him and has affected him so heavily, she has set up camp inside him and he isn’t even fully aware of how much she has. I am obsessed. 

“He felt as if she was the biggest mystery of all.” Fucking cut, print, beautiful note to finish on. Another moment I can see put to screen.

—

A fantastic chapter, seriously so many good smaller details, thoroughly enjoyable yet again,

—

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

—

This chapter is only about two pages but what a two pages. 

Two pages of Blossom breaking down after expecting Henry to reach out and him not, her sobbing, clawing at herself and drinking. The descriptions here at the end, of so desperate for relief you hurt yourself immensely in the process, willing to tear till you see bone just hoping for a moment’s peace, goregous. 

—

Ethan, or, Chapter Twenty-Eight.

—

Another very short chapter, describing Blossom in the cemetery and Ethan following her there. The conversation is brief, him saying she shouldn’t be out like this, him affirming that it’s not girls like her that are dying, it’s boys like him and him assuring her that he can “bench 200” so the guy will have his work cut out for him. Okay, nice attempt to flex Ethan /s. But this last line is the stand out to me, “-and Blossom let her head fall back, snaking her arm around his shoulders and closing her eyes, engulfing him.”  Phew. Truly a banger.

—

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

—

Oh my God this is it, this is the chapter, the long, extended dream sequence. I dunno if I am ready again! This part is so intense but so good. Okay, okay, be cool, here we go.

We kick off with a wonderfully descriptive scene of Henry eating, frantic, hungry, desperately trying to satisfy himself, right? Eating meat, drinking red wine, eating pomegranate, and it’s all fine until we pull away to see that he is actually eating Blossom. And not in the way we have seen before, we are talking full out, full on, raw, animalistic, cannibal style consumption. 

It isn’t enough and it will never be enough as he feeds and eats until there is literally nothing left of her, going so far as to consume bone, marrow and cartilage. 

He reaches back in and instead of finding warmth and hopefully more food instead he finds a nest of baby spiders and I get a chill every time I read this part ugh!

This image is the best. Henry trying to fight to get the spiders off, almost tripping and then Blossom, still dead, reaching out, catching his wrist and holding him there, mouth opening and dark legs of a much larger spider reaching out from the darkness just- my GOD. Horror, pure, horror, goodness.

Tea update, I have gotten so distracted reading and annotating it has now gone cold.

The dream shifts suddenly to Henry being in front of and then going into Blossom’s house in search of her, the hope that he will find her safe is one that I cannot share with him because Henry, awake or asleep she is never safe with you.

The description of the room in total disarray is fantastic and also again something that one can picture so easily. 

Blossom is dead and Henry is holding her and sobbing and I am FEELING!

Him crying and apologising is everything. 

But, it was all a joke because all of this is a big fucking joke to Blossom, even pretending she is dead all for him to discover. 

“Does it make you feel good? Tearing those around you apart? Destroying those that care about you?” Go off Henry. But also yeah Blossom, does it?

“I’m sorry.” “No you’re not.” - “You never are.”  Fucking snaps Kate. 

This moment still fucks me up, Henry realizing that he is dead on the floor, has been watching himself this whole time. 

“Are you going to hurt me like you hurt her?” She asked. “Do you want to hurt me Henry? Do you want to kill me too?”  This whole scene, this whole sequence is indescribably good. I wouldn’t want them to cut a single moment or movement from this pure gold. 

Words are failing me.

He’s awake!

The bitch is back and she is drunk.

I have read a few reviews that claim the work of Kate and this book in particular to be ripping off Gone Girl, calling it plagiarism, especially for this next part. Blossom, drunk and a mess giving a speech, a rant, going the fuck off about the awful treatment of men and expectations thrust upon her and all women and that just pisses me off. The reviews, not her speech, her speech is great. I hate that reviewers see a woman giving a speech about mistreatment, and the entitlement of men and look at Kate and her work and compare her to Gillian Flynn negatively.  Because don’t you know there can be only one book like this? Only one story delving into the rage inherent to the feminine? Only one book can have this kind of character, this kind of story, everything else is clearly a copy, a cheap imitation, instead of insulting and making unfair and frankly incorrect claims, looking at the broader picture. These reviewers look at this and compare instead of seeing that both these stories and many more like them can have their own spot in the conversation, and can co-exist. And the biggest point of all, maybe, just fucking maybe, the reason there is multiple stories, conversations, rants, characters like Amy and like Blossom is because what they are talking about, what they preach has distinct truth and basis in the reality of the experience of tons and tons of women and that is why it hits and resonates. 

Also Henry thank God you stopped yourself from saying that shit because holy fuck no one is ever asking for it ever.

Henry not believing female rage, like alright bud, sit down.

Blossom’s feelings are so valid here. The want for people who have harmed you to see how they have and understand it and share that feeling. It is fucking powerful, this whole section is!

“Would you kill to take back your power?” Henry, you are getting closer to getting it. 

The way I need this whole scene filmed yesterday.

Blossom’s got a fucking gun. The first time I read this my stomach dropped. 

This scene with her holding the gun to him is so tense.

Kate you could write about the issues with women only becoming empowered in media through abuse and hurt from men for hours and hours and I would eat it up. Oh shit, wait, I already have. I’d do it again. 

I like to think for sure a part of Blossom wants to stop this, wants to be ‘normal’ wants to love as Henry describes but again, the constant mistreatment from everyone all her life prevents that. How can she just swallow back all this hate and not let it poison her? How can she just move on from that? It IS like saying that they won, she becomes another person standing idly by, a part of the problem. 

Finally she falls asleep and the chapter ends.

—

This is my favourite chapter in the book by far. I could scream on and on about it more than I already have, the dream sequence I could read it and go line by line diving in deeper I swear to God. I gotta hold myself back in some places though. 

—

Chapter Thirty.

—

A hard and tense conversation is had once Blossom wakes up in the morning.

Henry keeps on choosing her, she didn’t ask for it, true but he isn’t unreasonable in wanting her to choose him back and some proof of this. 

She clearly doesn’t want him to go, but he does. 

She usually has cold showers but takes a hot one in an attempt to understand. I could never take a cold shower so Blossom girl, I do not understand you in that respect. 

—

A shorter but extremely emotionally driven chapter that hits the spot after the last one.

—

Chapter Thirty-One.

—

Blossom asking for some help with her photos.

Oh my God Mr.Whitmore you fucking creep. Yeah I will look over your photos for the end of year project, how about I bring a bottle of wine along?! You sick fuck I hate you.

She is eating once again, drinking once again, watching a nature documentary and wishing she as the wolf and the prey all at once and I am still just so fucking captivated by it.

Yeah those Barbie commercials suck, I’d turn off the TV too.

—

Chapter Thirty-Two.

—

We finally got another body hoooo boy! 

Again tied with a pink ribbon, again many, many stab wounds, throat slashed this time, leaving him to choke on his own blood. 

I afforded myself a ten minute break at this time to grab an ice water and make lunch, I sit back down with my mac and cheese ready to eat and read. 

The killer is being unorganised and cocky, in broad daylight no less?

A school ID at the scene of the crime!

A frantic call from Blossom oh my God!

Mr.Whitmore is with her and when Henry gets there he is dead and she is holding the knife.

Her sobbing about how she lost control is haunting knowing what we know. Knowing how important control is to her and this is why she is doing this, convincing herself whenever she is being hurt or used she is still in control it is like what happened? The tension!

—

My mac and cheese threatens to go cold at this rate because this book, again even on the second readthrough, is so captivating. 

—

Chapter Thirty-Three.

—

Blossom is in the hospital and Henry is there with her.

The girl has been really fucked up my God. 

Norman is totally a bit salty and mad at himself that Henry was right this whole time about it being Mr.Whitmore. 

Love Henry describing the motif of the pink ribbon representing Blossom, just, real good.

I really, really like Norm and Sohpie’s interactions, again the air of how long they have known each other hangs heavy.

Of course it actually happened Norm. Come on. What kid lies about that?

—

Another chapter in the books that I love, a big smooch for this one.

—

Chapter Thirty-Four.

—

We are finally at the dance hooo boy.

The theme of the dance being love, gag me. 

Henry is here like she wanted! 

Be still my heart she is wearing fucking blue. SHE IS WEARING BLUE!

It’s all like a dream, an actually good one for once Henry, a rarity for you I am sure. 

They dance and yeah all the parents watching on like uhhh? Hilarious, like shut up you don’t know them like us the readers do!

And they leave the dance togetherrrr. God I love them way too much for how bad they are for each other.

Back at the hotel, much making out and getting drunk together.

He wants to rip away the blue and bury himself in her pink oh my fucking-KATE! I love you.

Blossom is that girl. Drunk all like, “I wanna go swimming!” And fuck I felt that. 

Kate could write something just listing colours over and over and I would love it. 

Of course he doesn’t want her in the pool. She wants him in the pool with her, so she drags him in, naturally.

The build up of what you think is going to be a steamy sex scene poolside ends up with Blossom breaking down and man my heart hurts. 

—

This chapter is just so well paced AND well placed, you know what I mean, it is just mwah, amazing, very needed, tonally it flows so well.

—

Chapter Thirty-Five.

—

It’s summer, a month after the dance and Henry pays Blossom a visit. 

We get to hear some of her statement and mannn. It is just, fucking pitch perfect, immaculate. 

“I want to love you…So badly…” - “But?” - Blossom didn’t answer.  I am ripping my own hair out oh my God. 

Blossom is so empty inside, nothing there at all and so she instead of dealing with the internal pain, she seeks physical pleasure.

Okay this next sex scene, so fucking good, just I love the juxtaposition of the flowery language with harsher terms thrown in there, it is through the whole book and it feels like it sums up Blossom the character insanely well. 

“In return, Blossom gave him exactly what he needed, at the same time, taking exactly what she wanted. A perfect balance.” Can I get this line tattoo’d on the inside of my eyelids as well as marry it?

—

Chapter Thirty-Six.

—

Post fuck our fave creep Henry Williamson watches Blossom shower and I wish that were me.

Oh he is smoking less look at him!

“He wondered if this could last forever.” Doubtful. A nice thought though. 

You’ve been here how many times and you only look around her room now? Alright. 

Of course you go for her underwear drawer you little freak of a man! 

Henry finds an envelope and in it a series of pictures of the bodies, of the crime scenes but they aren’t copies, oh no they are originals and very different from the ones he has seen previously.

A delectable little cut back showing Adam Hall from the start going to the woods for a run and Blossom following after him oh my God.

—

And just like that the book is over. It is, amazing, truly a gripping read even the second time. I noticed more, picked up on more and really loved it even more. Blossom being the real one behind all this is fantastic, well played and woven without it feeling shoved in your face or obvious and reading it now after the first time knowing she did it was a trip! This book is fantastic, I could read it over and over and I intend to! It plays like a movie, I love the characters and it is just phenomenal. I cannot recommend it enough. Seriously everyone needs to read this and then review it afterwards I am begging! Kate, this book is just, ugh, so special and something so different and I am just totally enamoured with it and you and how you write. In case this 8.6K document didn’t express that already. Thank you again so much for this story and now I can’t wait to read After The Lamb Bites Back!

[ruminativerabbi]

The Simchat Torah War - One Week In

I was a college senior in 1973 when the Yom Kippur War broke out and I can remember all too well the shock and dismay that permeated not only the big Jewish world out there but also my own synagogue community and my own circle of family and friends as the first terrible days of the war unfolded on our television screens. But as the tide turned quickly and it became increasingly clear that Israel would yet again vanquish its enemies, that dread lifted and was replaced—and replaced easily—by my customary confidence in the future, by my faith in God’s watchful and protective guardianship of the people Israel, and by my certainty that, in the end, good always wins out over evil. If I had been temporarily uncertain, my trust in the future snapped back into place almost instantly.

I was busy preparing myself that fall for the entry exams you had to pass back in the day to be admitted to rabbinical school at JTS. And my studies in the course of the  rest of the year only appeared to support that trust that sprung up so automatically for me once the tide turned and Israel’s victory seemed certain. Indeed, the more I read to prepare for my exams, the more certain I became that the course of the war had merely mirrored the larger course of Jewish history. Yes, we’ve known nights of unimaginable sadness. But then dawn breaks and the sky is filled again with light. The tide ebbs, but soon flows back. A remnant always survives, always returns, always re-asserts its right to chart the destiny of the Jewish people into the subsequent generation. My father’s joke about the difference between a Jewish optimist and a Jewish pessimist—the Jewish pessimist says, “Oy, things couldn’t get any worse,” to which the Jewish optimist responds, “Of course, they can. And will!”—seemed funny to me precisely because it so little mirrored how I perceived things really to be. The arc of Jewish history, I felt certain, always bends towards survival.

I have begun this letter a dozen different times. My original plan was to recount my memories of the Yom Kippur War in even more detail and then to assure you all that just as our enemies were vanquished then, so will they also be beaten now. I know everybody wants to hear that. And mostly I do write today to tell you all that—and not because it’s my personal job to cheer people up, but because that conviction regarding the inviolate destiny of Israel is too much a part of who I am to dissolve in even seriously bad news. I am, as always, a man of faith devoted both professionally and emotionally to the cultivation in others of the confidence in the destiny of the Jewish people that is so foundational to my own worldview and so much a part of who I am.

But this has been beyond challenging for me, this whole detour into hell that we have all been experiencing over this last week. I suppose part of that has to do with the degree to which the terrorists have somehow turned in my mind from merely violent thugs motivated by raged-based frustration into latter-day Nazis. And, indeed, the images and stories that have come out from the events of this last week would earlier on have been familiar to me only as the stuff of Shoah memoirs. But these stories, all verified and clearly true, are not made-up or embellished. And the first-hand accounts I’ve read—that we’ve all read—of young women being raped, of old people being dragged from their homes and killed, of babies being slaughtered, of young people at a desert concert being shot by the hundreds at point-blank range—these cannot be decried as mere crimes or acts of brutality. Nor do I see a way to explain any of this even as extreme political activism. After the events of last weekend, the enemy has surely lost all pretense merely to be acting forcefully to improve the lots of Gazans as the soldiers of Hamas takes their place in the history of the world as true monsters who have done their worst to destroy the Jewish people. Yes, I am more than aware that the Nazis were eventually vanquished, that they lost the war, that at least some Jewish people did end up surviving in every single country the Nazis occupied. I know all that. And yet I feel myself seized by a sense of dread that I am not quite sure how to justify or even explain.

Yes, the support that Israel has received—and especially from some unexpected quarters (including especially in Europe)—has been heartening. Even the New York Times managed to publish an editorial that was far more supportive of Israel than that newspaper has been in a very long time. President Biden’s and Secretary of State Blinken’s unequivocal statements of support meant a lot to me, as I’m sure it also did to all of you. (On the other hand, underlying all that heartening rhetoric is the certainty that, in the end, no amount of supportive rhetoric will mean anything if it is not accompanied by an equally solid commitment to deny Iran entry into the nuclear club.) Still, both the President and the Secretary of State did say the right thing and I have to give them credit for that. So did a lot of people—say the right thing in the course of this last week, I mean—but the real test, of course, will be to see if those lovely words are followed by action or not.

So that’s where I’ve been for most of this last week: buoyed by confidence and seized with dread, riven and subdivided like an actor impossibly hired to play two different roles on the same stage at the same time. (There’s a reason they don’t save money on Broadway by doing that: because it can’t actually be done.) But, in the end, I have to let what I know about Jewish history guide me forward.

I wish I could promise you all that this will somehow end well. I actually do think that, of course. But I also know that the journey from here to there is going to be long, painful, and beyond arduous. Our friends and family in Israel are mostly too old even for reserve duty, but their children and grandchildren—other than the ones who are actually in the middle of their military service—have more or less all been called up. I’ve been speaking to friends and family all week, and the message I’ve heard over and over has been more or less the same one: yihyeh tov, things will work out…but the journey from here to there is going to be grueling and challenging. And so, in the end, that is my message for all of you as well. Yihyeh tov.  This will end with a total defeat of Hamas, with the annihilation of its stores of menacing weaponry, with the restoration of Gaza to the actual people who live there and many of whom (click here) would be thrilled to live in peace with Israel and to prosper and thrive as their neighbors’ neighbors. The Saudis will eventually joint the Abraham Accords. The Palestinians will eventually realize that they can have their own state as soon as they are signal their right to nationhood by signaling their readiness make peace with making peace with the people next door. Hamas will join the Crusaders and the Cossacks and the Nazis in the dustbin of history. And the same God who makes peace on high will bless the world with peace as well.

And our job, as ever, is to remain staunch and steadfast in our support for the State of Israel. I can’t stress enough how important it is to write to the President and the people who represent us in Congress in support of Israel.  (Click here for guidance.) We need to give as much as we can manage to the charities that support the soldiers of the IDF and the civilian population of Israel. Most of all, we need to find the courage to reconstitute our riven selves into single-minded individuals possessed of faith in the future and confidence in the IDF. As I wrote above, I feel that riven-ness too, that uncertainty, that ill ease that we’re all feeling. But I plan to devote myself in these coming days and weeks to shucking it off, to re-integrating what I believe and what I know and what I hope to create the fully confident Jewish soul that I know myself capable of becoming, the one that is reflective of the truest me there is. The task in front of us all is a daunting one. I myself am on that journey as well. But if we travel together, we’ll at least have each other for company. And we’ll surely reach our destination with our faith and our trust intact.

[yowlthinks]

Omg, this is heartbreaking...

For the past few days I have been re-watching and re-listening the trailers, and came to the following conclusion about how things appear to be. THESE ARE JUST MY IDEAS BASED ON THE TRAILERS, BUT SOME MIGHT THINK THESE ARE SPOILERS, SO READ ON AT YIUR OWN PERIL:

First, when Crowley says "I'm back', to me this is their first meeting after his long nap. Notice how he strides in, takes off his glasses, rings the bell and then STEPS BACK a few steps. He is willing to be vulnerable but at the same time not sure he will receive a warm welcome (which by the looks of it he doesn't).

Then they make up, Crowley coaxed Aziraphale out to lunch and they get back to a friendlier footing, but Crowley has not mentioned that he is living out of his car.

In the meantime, Crowley is going through a full-on identity crisis. And it is clear why: he is not a bad person, he saw being a demon as his job (see the book for a good description of that), so now he is questioning who he actually is: if his demonic employment ended, but he certainly does not define himself as an angel, he starts indeed questioning "the point of it all". I guess, he is going with self-defining as an occult force and seeing how that sits with him. In view of this crisis, his realisation that Aziraphale is not just his best friend, but his ONLY friend. He is the only person who will ever truly know and understand him, and accept him as he is. And if this is not the recipe for someone who you would always want to have in your life, I don't know what is. But herein also lies the snag: while Crowley is lonely and knows he wants Aziraphale to share his time with, Aziraphale, at least visibly, is doing just fine on his own, thank you very much. He is running his bookshop, being the landlord to half the soho properties and meddling into the love affairs of his neighbours, essentially doing the same thing he did during Crowley's hundred year sleep: he had his gentleman's club then, now he has another community. It doesn’t mean he doesn't miss Crowley, but he keeps himself busy.

Then amidst this existential crisis Crowley learns from Shax that something is going on, so je instantly gets Aziraphale into that pub and tells him what he knows. Aziraphale probably says he'll be vigilant.

Then Muriel shows up and Aziraphale is trying to be kind while Crowley is just toying around. Perhaps, at that time they decide that that is it.

Then Gabriel shows up and all hell sorta breaks loose (gradually). I am sure somewhere in the most dramatic and least opportune moment Aziraphale will find out that Crowley is essentially homeless.

- Well, why didn't you say anything, dear boy? You know I have a flat upstairs.

- I also happen to know it is currently occupied by Gabriel! I'm happy to flatshare with you, not with him!

- Flatshare... with me?

*Cries in dumbass*

I hope by the end they decide to move in together, fund a nice place and this is the ride to the tartan mountains we saw in the trailer.

Wait... when did Crowley start living in the car. Because in lockdown when he asks "I could slither over and watch you eat cake." He doesn't say it from car parked 5m from the bookshop, right? RIGHT?! :D

[ofstoriesandstardust]

second chance pt. i (lt. bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: i’ve been feeling nostalgic lately as i start my senior year of college in a few weeks, so i’ve been re-watching girl meets world, you know, as one does. and upon watching the episode “the forgiveness project” i got to thinking. i am dying to hear what everyone’s thoughts on this after seeing everyone lose their minds of the teaser. 

summary: An unexpected guest at a Navy gala shakes the foundation of Rebel’s whole world. What happens after will alter the course of her life. 

title comes from hsmtmts’s “second chance” and this was originally inspired by “the forgiveness project” episode of girl meets world

pt. ii | pt. iii

part of same mistakes-verse

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: swearing, unexpected pregnancies, one night stands, cheating, top gun and top gun: maverick canon deaths, aftermath of a parent leaving, an undefined amount of time has passed since chasing stars but it’s not explicit, i was going to write this as an you want to hate her but can’t but then i decided say actually she IS the villain, does the Navy have galas? i don’t know but they do now

word count: 4,518

"i’ve got a second chance to fly/i’ve got a second chance to fall/what can make the tide turn?/what can make the fire burn?/a second chance is all”

“Holy shit.” 

You glance up to see Rooster frozen in the middle of his bedroom doorway as he takes you in. “Hey, I’m just about ready, I just need to finish putting on my shoes.” He nods, lips parted, but doesn’t say anything more. After finishing the last clasp, you stand up, letting the dress that had been bunched up in your hand fall to the floor. He’s still staring at you, an unreadable look on his face. “Hey, you good?”

He nods, swallowing. “Yeah, I’m just- You look good.” You blush, allowing your arms to wrap around his chest. 

“Oh you know, I pulled a little something something together.” He nods, his eyes wide. 

“Yeah, yeah, I can see that.” You smirk at him. 

“Did I make you speechless Bradshaw?” He nods once more, his hands finding their home on your waist. You take a half step back, straightening out the collar of his dress blues. “Well, you don’t look half bad yourself.” One of his hands makes it up to your face, cradling it softly. 

“I love you.” He whispers and you smile, leaning in, taking his chin with own of your own. 

“Well Bradshaw, you’re one lucky man because I love you too.” You whisper as you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He pulls away, but doesn’t go far, his hazel eyes twinkling. 

“I do consider myself a very lucky man. A very lucky man indeed.” Your smile doesn’t break as you place a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“C’mon, we’re going be late.”

-

“I hate Navy events.” You mutter as your best friend snickers at you. “My feet hurt like a bitch.” You hiss, bouncing on the balls of your feet as the two of you stand at the bar, waiting for your drinks. 

“Yeah, but Bradshaw’s been looking at you like you hung the moon and stars for him all night darling. You got that man in the palm of your hand.” He says as the bartender sets the drinks in front of you. 

“Oh please. Jake hasn’t taken his eyes off you once tonight.” 

“Touche, Rebel.” He says, clinking your drink with his. 

“Coyote! Rebel!” You both turn to see Leapfrog and you freeze, half thinking Shadow’s going to walk up to you out of nowhere, despite his dishonorable discharge almost two years ago. Coyote’s quicker than you though and sets his drink down to shake Leapfrog’s hand. 

“Admiral Thomas, it’s good to see you sir.” He shakes his hand, giving you both a sincere smile. 

“Leapfrog.” You say, bowing your head, offering him a small smile. 

“It’s good to see you both. How are you both doing?” 

“We’re good.” Coyote answers for you, because your heart is still racing from the sudden shock and flash of panic that had ripped through you. 

“Honey?” Someone calls and he turns. A stunning women approaches him and you straighten up. You know her. 

“Natalie, darling.” He says warmly as it feels like ice settles in your stomach. The woman takes his arm, turning to face you and Coyote. “Natalie, this is Rebel and Coyote. They both served under my instruction for a few years and they are some of the finest pilots I have ever had the privilege of teaching.” Coyote nods his head in greeting as you swallow, nausea crawling up your throat. “Kids, this my wife Natalie.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Coyote says. Coyote glances at you when you don’t say anything, but your head feels like it’s filled with water.

You’d recognize her anywhere. Her striking beauty, her twinkling eyes, the bright smile your Dad said you’d always inherited from her. You’d recognize her anywhere, even without the Polaroid pictures Dad had hidden the hangar (ones he didn’t know you had found).

You swallow, not daring to meet her eye. “Hi Mom.”

You feel Coyote startle, his hand brushing yours. You finally look up, taking in Leapfrog’s unphased look, and the warm smiling she’s sending you. “Hi honey.” You try not visibly flinch at the nickname that is usually reserved for Rooster, and on occasion, your Dad. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight.” Why? you want to scream at her.

You don’t say anything as Coyote watches you carefully. “So, uh, are the two of you,” a teasing smile appears on her face, one much too comfortable for what was happening, “dating?” That’s the first thing she has to say to you?

You shake your head, taking Coyote’s hand, squeezing it. “No, this is Lieutenant Javy “Coyote” Machado. He’s been my wingman for four, almost five years now. He’s my best friend and the best person I know. He’s my Goose.” She nods, the familiar sparkle in her eyes. 

“I’m glad the two of you have each other. How is Goose these days? Carole?” You swallow, noticing the way Coyote’s grip on your hand become tighter, keeping you upright. 

“Um, Goose died years ago. Training accident.” Her face falls. “Carole died of cancer when I was 16. But you wouldn’t know about any of that because you left.” If the statement phases her, she doesn’t show it. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just silently observing you. 

“Listen, (Y/N) I-” Coyote clears his throat, interrupting her sentence. 

“Well Naomi-”

“Natalie.” She corrects and he narrows his eyes.

“Whatever. It’s been really nice to meet you but we better be getting back to our squadron.” He says curtly, hand never leaving yours as the two of you move away, drinks long forgotten, towards the corner where your group is stationed, talking and sharing stories, making the most of the often-boring and uneventful Navy events. Well, this one would certainly be a change. You arrive at the edge of the group and Hangman looks up at you. 

“Starting to think the two of you ran off to start a new life.” He jokes but his teasing smirk falls when Coyote doesn’t respond, simply looking at you. “What? What happened?” You place on your hands on the back of his chair, clutching it as you try to steady yourself. Rooster catches this first and stands up from his seat, moving closer towards you. 

“Hey, are you-”

“My Mom’s here.” You blurt out, causing Rooster to freeze as your Dad’s eyes go wide. You feel the tears prick at your eyes and you squeeze them shut. “I can’t be here.” You whisper, squeezing past Yale and Harvard and towards the big wooden doors of the ballroom. 

-

When he finds her, she’s standing out in the hallway, looking out at the stars through the large windows. 

“Natalie, what the hell are you doing here?” He seethes out. She whirls and takes him in. 

“Pete. Hi. How’re you?” 

“Pretty pissed you’ve shown up and upset my kid.”

“She’s my kid too.” She says firmly and fuck if that doesn’t light a fire within him-

“The hell she is.” He hisses but she stands unwavering. He sighs, straightening up. “What’s your end goal here Natalie? Why the hell are you here?” 

“I’m married to one of the Admirals-”

“Yeah, Richard Thomas. I’ve heard.” She sighs again.

“I want a relationship with my daughter Pete. I’ve- I’ve finally found a stable job, I’m married, and I want a second chance. Richard knows everything and he supports this. You’ve done a great job with her from what I’ve heard but I want a chance to fill in where I wasn’t before.” He has to suck in a deep breath through his teeth, counting backwards from ten before he responds. 

“You don’t get it, do you? You left. And-”

“Well it’s not like you gave me much reason to stay Pete.” He stares at her. 

“We had a fight and then you walked out. And you never came back. And I spent years fearing the day you’d show up and demand custody of her. Show back up and take her away from me. I was even more worried she’d one day decide I failed her and leave too. And you know what Natalie, fine, by all means, leave me. Lord knows I deserve it. But don’t leave our kid in the dust. She grew up without a Mom because of you. Don’t do this to her now.” She doesn’t say anything, just quietly observes him as he feels his chest rise and fall, the anger ever simmering. 

“We were kids ourselves, Pete. I would’ve done more damage if I had stayed. I couldn’t give her what she needed. We were at each other’s throats all the time and she needed the more solid one of us. You had Nick and Carole and I- I couldn’t be what either of you needed me to be.” She pauses. “I am sorry to hear about Nick by the way. I know how much you cared for him.”

“Don’t be, he never liked you anyways.” He spits. He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to sort through what he wants to say. “You’re right, we were kids Natalie. But fuck if she isn’t the best thing to ever happen to me. I stepped up and you left. She’s my pride and joy and everyday I am grateful we had her because she is the reason I kept going when I had no other reason to. You’re not gonna show up, not now, after all this time, and want back in on a kid you walked out on. If you cared an ounce for her, you wouldn’t be so selfish as to ask this of her.”

“She gets to make that choice for herself Pete.”

“She doesn’t need to. I’m not going to put her in a position where she ever has to. Stay the hell away from her.” 

-

The door of the bathroom opens and from your seat on the bathroom floor, back pressed up against the wall of the stall, you see the black dress shoes stop in front of your stall. Whoever they belong to sighs and slides down on the post separating this stall from the next one. 

“This is the girl’s bathroom, you can’t be in here.” They chuckle. 

“Yeah, I know. You see, I’m looking for my best friend. Her Mom, who took off when she was 2, showed up out of nowhere tonight and she was pretty upset. I wanted to check on her. You wouldn’t happen to see anybody like that come in here or anything would you?”

“Nope, not a clue.” You mutter. 

He sighs, kicking his legs out. “Well, let me know if you do okay? Cause she’s one hell of a girl. I mean just incredibly brilliant, and a downright badass. A fucking amazing pilot. Funny too, and her and I even have matching tattoos. She’s the most rebellious, chaotic person I’ve ever known and she makes me all the better for it every day.” 

“She’s sounds pretty awesome.”

“She is. If you see her, let her know her best friend is looking for her, okay? He’s pretty worried about her.” 

“Will do.” There’s a few beats of silence before he sighing again. “You wanna come out now?” 

“Not particularly.” He sighs. 

“Well, will you at least let me in? Unlock the stall door.” 

“No.”

“Rebel, this isn’t first time I’ve seen you cry, and it won’t be the last. C’mon, you don’t gotta hide from me or put up a front.”

“I’m not crying. That’s the problem. I mean, I want to, I feel like I should but I’m just... numb.” 

“You want to talk about it?”

“What would I say?” He doesn’t say anything in response and after a few moments he sighs again and stands up. You feel your heart rate increase as you began to panic. “Don’t leave.” You whisper, so quietly you’re not sure he hears you. 

“Never. I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses. “But the floor’s gross.” You roll your eyes but decide to unlock the door anyways, letting it creakily swing open. 

“There you are.” He says, smiling and you huff, looking at the ceiling.

“Here I am.” 

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You say dryly.

“You want to get off the floor?”

“Not really.” 

He sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You might want reconsider because you have approximately four more minutes until Rooster is coming in here.” You groan, and stick your hand out, making a face. He laughs taking it and helps pull you up. “Hey.” He whispers. “She can’t hurt you anymore. You’ve come too far to let her set you back.” You squeeze his hand. 

“I know.” You swallow. “It’s funny, I- I thought seeing her would- I don’t know, make me freak out, but other than being shocked, I guess I just- I guess I’ve just realized that I don’t know how I’ve spent my life running from what makes me happy all for the actions of a-”

“Ghost?”

You shake your head. “For a stranger.” 

He smiles at you, squeezing your hand one last time. “She can’t hurt you anymore.” You nod and the two of you leave the bathroom. You look around, immediately spotting where your boyfriend is anxiously leaned up against the wall. In the distance, you see the rest of the Iron Daggers and Bob waves to you when he spots you. You offer a small smile and wave back. 

“Hey.” He whispers, pulling you into a hug. “You okay?”

“Could be better.” 

“Let’s go home.” He says pressing a kiss to your temple. You open your mouth to agree when the clicking of heels on the floor cause the three of you to turn your heads. You’re met with the sight of Natalie. She stops in front of you all, giving you a smile. No one says anything and after a few minutes of awkward silence she clears her throat. 

“Do you think you two could give us a moment?” 

“No, whatever you have to say, can be said in front of them.” You state and she nods slowly, clearly not liking the answer. 

“Look, I just-”

“What do you want Mom? Why are you here?” 

“Because Richard is my husband and-”

“No, I’ve got that. Why are you here?” 

She sighs. “I wanted to let you know that I would like a relationship with you. I want a second chance. I wasn’t ready then, but I’m ready now.”

“No.” You say, shaking your head, already grabbing Rooster’s hand to move back to the Iron Daggers. 

“Honey-”

“The only person who can call me that is Bradley Bradshaw and since you are not him, don’t you dare.” She sighs and you bit your lip. 

“Please, let me have a second chance.” 

“Why did you leave?” You whisper. Your Dad appears at your shoulder and out of the corner of your eye, you see Rooster gently put a hand on his arm, silently telling him that you had it under control.

“Your Dad and I, we were so young, we were just kids. Our relationship was never meant to go beyond a one-night stand, even just a fling and then suddenly I was pregnant. And I just wasn’t ready. For your Dad, you were like a happy little accident but for me-” 

“I was a mistake. Go ahead Mom, say it. I know what I was.”

“Kiddo, no.” Your Dad whispers. 

She ignores your statement, continuing on. “I wasn’t ready for the pressure or responsibility of raising a kid. Like I said, I wasn’t ready then but I am now.”

“Too little too late.” She huffs, clearly getting frustrated. 

“What would you have me do? Stay and be a shitty parent? It’s not like your Dad was exactly doing me favors after you were born.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Your Dad shot and she rolls her eyes. 

“Pete, you were sleeping with a new girl every night when I needed you. The word faithful had no place in our relationship.”

“Oh because you were so much better.” 

“Okay, hey, that’s enough. Believe me, I know. I know Dad wasn’t the greatest the first few years of my life. But Dad stayed. No matter how shitty of a parent he was at the beginning, he stayed. That’s the difference between you and him. How do you not see that?” She swallows. 

“From what I hear about you, your Dad did an amazing job with you and it shows everyday in the pilot and person you are. You didn’t need me to get in the way of that.”

“Bullshit. Bullshit. I love Dad but I needed a Mom. I needed you.” She looks taken aback and you decide to keep moving forward. “Look, I have a family.” You turn slightly to Coyote. “You already know Coyote. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You turn to Rooster. “You remember little Bradley? Yeah, this is him. Handsome, I know. He’s my boyfriend and hopefully the person I’ll spend the rest of my life with if he doesn’t get sick of me.” You take a deep breath and step back, clutching onto your Dad’s arm. “And Dad, God, for better or for worse, everything I am is because of him.” He smiles down at you and squeezes the hand that’s on his arm. “I’m so glad that I get to call him my Dad. No matter the fact that he had nothing but scraps of a family he pieced together to offer me, he made sure I was safe and loved and happy. No matter what shit I threw at him, he was always there. They’re family. But you know who else is family?” You turn, pointing to your squadron. “Them. That’s Phoenix and Bob. There’s Fanboy and Payback, Hangman, Yale and Harvard, Omaha, Fritz, and Halo.” The group has noticed you’re looking and you wave. “Everyone say hi Iron Daggers.” You feel your Dad chuckle as everyone but your Mom waves to them. They wave back, the growing confusion evident on their faces. 

“They’re my best friends. We’re a little ragtag group, little rough around the edges. But they’re family and I love them dearly. And you know what separates them from you? They stayed. They will always stay, no matter what. And you know what, I’m not really in the business of looking for any more family members who have a history of leaving when things get hard.” You take a step back from her. 

“(Y/N), I-”

“Mom, tell me that leaving was your biggest mistake. Tell me that the day you left was your biggest regret and that you wished you could go back and change it. Tell me you never meant it. Please.” She shakes her head, eyes sparkling with tears. 

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, taking another step back from her.

“Goodbye Mom.” You whisper.

You turn, walking back towards your friends, Rooster and Coyote both by your side. You reach the group and the turn, making room so that you can properly join them. 

“I have to admit, you handled that a lot better than I would’ve.” Rooster says and you smile. 

“Did you make her wave at us?” Hangman asks, a smirk on his face. 

“I was making a point.” Phoenix barks out a laugh, shaking her head. 

“How are you doing?” Bob asks and you tilt your head. 

“Better than I thought I would be.” Rooster takes your hand and you look up at him. 

“Let’s go home. For real this time.” 

-

The kitchen is dark as you sit at the table, still in your dress, heels discarded somewhere in the living room. Rooster and Coyote are sitting opposite you, both looking at you with concern. 

“Rebel-” Coyote tries.

“I’m fine.”

“We should really talk about this.” Rooster says but you don’t look up at him. 

“I’m fine.” The kitchen door opens and it reveals your Dad whose blue top of his uniform has been discard, shoes kicked off. 

“Hey kids, why don’t you head out? It’s been a long night and I got it from here.” They both look at you hesitantly but when you don’t respond, they stand up. 

Coyote stands by the door as Rooster bends over, giving you a kiss and whispering “I love you.” They leave and you stand up as you hear the front door shut. 

“I’m going to bed.”

“Sit down.” He says gently and you do as he leans up against the doorframe. He doesn’t say anything, putting his hands in his pockets as you brain whirls, trying to process the night. 

“Hey Dad?” You whisper. 

“Yeah?” 

“How do- how do you know that you and Penny got it right this time? You guys have broken up so many times, how do- how do you know that this is the time?”

“I trust that our lives are finally in the right place.”

“And how do you trust that she won’t leave like Mom did?”

“Because she’s Penny Benjamin and if anybody does the leaving in this relationship, it’s me.” You don’t say anything as your Dad takes a few steps closer to you. “This isn’t about me and Penny though, is it?” You shake your head and your Dad sighs. “Kiddo, your Mom and I- we were explosive and fiery and we were always meant to crash and burn, whether you were here or not. I was busy trying to sleep with every pretty girl I saw-”

“Gross.” You say, giving a watery chuckle and he gives half a laugh. 

“And she was trying to sleep with every Navy pilot she found. And then she followed me out here for TOPGUN because she had to and it killed whatever relationship we had. One of us was always going to leave and she was just the one who managed to do it first. And kiddo everyday I’m glad it was me who stayed because I have gotten the privilege of being your Dad. I wouldn’t change it for the world because it’s always been you and me. Having you was never planned but I’m glad it happened because it, you, made me a better person. I’ve always got you, no matter what happens.” He takes a deep breath, taking another step closer to you. “Kiddo, look at me.” You finally look up at him. “You and Bradley are not me and your Mom.” 

“I didn’t-” He shakes his head. 

“The only people I’ve seen love each other as much as the two of you do was Goose and Carole. Whatever your Mom and I had- it wasn’t real and it most certainly wasn’t love. The love you have with Bradley is real and it’s true and it’s not going anywhere.” You let out a shaky breath, finally daring to speak the one question that’s been lingering in the back of your head since the day you got together with Bradley. 

“Do you- do you think there’s any way he’ll one day see what Mom saw? See whatever it was in me that wasn’t good enough and leave too?” Your words are no more than a small whisper as the tears you’ve fought down all night finally surface. 

“Sweetheart, it is not your fault she left, you understand me? There was nothing you could have done.” A sob escapes you as you stand up, colliding with your Dad’s chest. Your sobs echo through the kitchen as you break, your Dad holding you close. “I’ve always got you sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” 

-

You slam your car door and it catches his attention from where he’s sitting on the picnic table, overlooking the crashing waves. You wordlessly sit next to him as your wrap the leather jacket around you tighter, the ocean breeze passing through you. You wrap your hand in his and you scoot closer to him, setting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Mav know you leave?” You shake your head. “Ah, so it’s like high school all over again, you little rebel.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh please, you were the troublemaker in high school.” He chuckles and nudges your shoulder with his own. 

“You’re right, you’re right.” He concedes. A silence falls between the two of you as you look out over the water. “How are you feeling about everything?” You shrug and swallow. “You know what she was wrong, yeah? She had no right to show up like this, to ruin your night and want back in.” You take a shaky breath. 

“Yeah, I know, but I guess... in a way, I’m glad she did. Got me thinking about a lot of things. About what I want and what I’m going to do moving forward.”

“Yeah?” He ask, eyes watching you carefully. You nod. 

“For the longest time, I thought that what she did was because of me. That her leaving was somehow my fault and I was so afraid that everyone else would see what she did and leave and I- I’ve finally realized that it was never my fault. I’ve gone so long thinking that the person I needed to learn how to forgive was her, but- but the person I needed to forgive was myself.” He squeezes your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “I don’t know, seeing her, her life together and happy, it made me wonder why I couldn’t have that for myself. It made me realize that constantly sabotaging myself was going to get me nowhere, just drive my family away.”

“I will never leave.” He whispers. You nod, scooting ever impossibly closer to him.

“I know. Do you remember how when we got called back to TOPGUN, that night on the beach, how I told you that I thought we were doomed to always make the same mistakes?”

He nods. “Of course I do, that was the night we got together.” 

“For whatever reason, the universe gave us a second chance. And I’ve spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop. For us to make those same mistakes. But we haven’t and I- I’m not going waste our second chance. I’m not going to throw it away.” You squeeze his hand. “This, us, I- I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” His eyes are sparkling with unshed tears as he moves a hand to grasp your face. “I love you.” You whisper. “Thank you for loving me.” He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you honey. I will love you for the rest of my life.” He whispers. His eyes search your face and he swallows. “Fuck- I- I was gonna do this differently- had it all planned out- but I- I have to ask. Now’s the right time.” You tilt your head in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?” You whisper. He takes a shaky breath, hands leaving your face to take your hands.

“Will you marry me?”

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

I am so excited for Skill of a Valkyrie Part 2!!! I requested it and have been watching it move up the list! I fell in love with the first part as soon as you posted it! I just love young Loki before all the self loathing. And he deserves all the love and happiness!! So I re read part one and then went on a binge through a lot (almost all) your stories and they all are still just as good the umptienth time I’ve read them… as they were the first time 💕. When I’m having I a bad day I come to your blog to feel better… So some of them I’ve read a lot. Ok sorry I’m done rambling. I really just meant to express my excitement! Hope all is well in your little growing world!!! 💕 🥰 💕

Oh you are so lovely kind anon 🥰 Thank you for your words of appreciation! I love that you enjoy reading and rereading my stories 😊

I am so excited to get back to the Skill of a Valkyrie storyline! It's a very different version of Loki, the young and mischievous prince - he's so much fun to write!

I'm already getting ahead of myself with the story for part 2, so it may be another somewhat lengthy part 😅 but in any case, here is a preview under the cut:

"How are you feeling, Loki? Is that shoulder troubling you at all?" you asked, gesturing toward the location of the former spear wound.

"Not one bit. You're truly a miracle worker, Valkyrie," he responded proudly, rolling his shoulder a couple of times as though to prove his point.

"Heed caution, Loki. Overconfidence is what got you into this mess in the first place."

"I'm not being overconfident." He took a few strides closer to you, that characteristic smirk overtaking his features. "If anything, I'm singing you praises. Don't let it go to your head, now, love."

"Come, now. You know I know better than that." Loki lifted his hands to cup your jaw on either side, tilting your face up toward himself as he leaned closer, your noses nearly touching. "Loki... you have duties to attend to," you warned half-heartedly, melting into his touch all the same.

"Mm, indeed I do." He closed the few inches of space remaining between you, capturing your lips with his. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist, hands coming to rest against the small of his back. He hummed in approval, one of his own hands falling from your neck to your waist so he could tug you impossibly closer. Gods, he was intoxicating. Your willpower to resist his charms and keep him on task crumbled so easily with the gentlest touch.

Regretfully, you pulled away, resting your forehead against his. "Loki, I'm serious! You must not shirk your duties as prince just to spend the afternoon kissing me."

"Why ever not?" He tilted his head slightly to steal another swift kiss. "Kissing you is far better than any council gathering. They shall barely notice my absence."

"No, no. I won't allow it." You leaned back slightly to evade his advances. With a guttural growl, Loki tightened his arm around your waist to pull you closer once again, his lips finding yours despite your protests. You couldn't help but laugh against his mouth. Cheekily, you slipped your hands from his back to his waist, pinching rapidly at his sides for just a moment.

"Mm-hm-hehey!" he spluttered, breaking apart from your lips as his hands shot down to capture yours.

"Attend your council meeting, or I'll tickle you senseless," you threatened with a smirk, digging your fingertips into his sides once for emphasis. His grip on your hands tightened in an effort to still your tickling fingers.

"This is entirely unfair, you know. Holding this over my head in such a way."

"I never said I was playing fair."

[nitewrighter]

for the teen Titans ficlet thing, I don’t suppose you could do “there was only one bed” for robin and starfire?

*slams fist down on table* STARFIRE IS THE BIG SPOON.

----

"I think you are overacting," Starfire said, her arms folded across her garish tye-dyed nightshirt.

"Overreacting," Robin corrected, adjusting the waistband on his sweats as he stepped out of the bathroom, "And--I'm not. I've slept in lean-tos in the Alaskan hinterland and in literal trees in the Virunga mountains. I can handle a hotel floor."

Starfire scoffed. "You are being ridiculous! It is a bed! There is room for two! Plenty of my people sleep in Tesh'li!"

"Er..." Robin gave her a blank look and Starfire seemed to realize that that word hadn't translated over.

"Uhm..." Starfire's brow furrowed for a few seconds as she struggled for the closest english equivalent, "Tesh'li are like... clusters? P-piles? It is very common for families."

"...Tamaraneans sleep in piles?" Robin's brow crinkled at the mental image.

" Tesh'li. 'Piles' implies gravity is a strong factor in the composition of bodies," said Starfire.

"...right, floating..." Robin said quietly.

"The whole team had a big Tesh'li in that cave when we had that mission in Markovia!" Starfire said, clearly frustrated, "Beast Boy turned into a grizzly bear and Cyborg turned off his cooling systems to share body heat! You and Raven even shared your capes! Why is this worse? Am I worse?"

"It's not worse--I mean obviously you're not worse-- it's just---when it's just two people--" Robin drew in a tense breath through his teeth before slumping his shoulders, defeated. "It's like... an earth... thing."

"I am aware that earth has many things," said Starfire, clearly not satisfied with this answer.

Robin sighed.

"Oh!" Starfire perked up, "It is one of your earth intimacy hangups! Because large portions of your population spent several centuries convincing yourselves that your natural instinct to be close and reproduce were affronts to your creator deities! And that still lingers in your cultural practices!"

"Uh..." Robin didn't really have a response to that.

"I have been reading the Earth histories," said Starfire, a little smugly.

"That's great," said Robin, meekly.

“Well it is not like any of ‘the funny business’ will be happening,” said Starfire, using the finger quotes around the words ‘funny business.’ Robin really regretted letting Beast Boy teach her how to make air quotes with her fingers and that she had only been getting better at figuring out when to use them. “But I will respect your cultural practice and let you sleep on the floor, even though that is dumb and a little gross and you will wake up with the aching back.”

"You sure are a diplomat, huh?" said Robin, drily.

“Mm-hmm!” Starfire nodded.

This was supposed to be a victory in the argument for Robin--since Starfire was recognizing the boundaries he was laying out, but who was he laying them out for if she didn’t care about them? Himself? Alfred had made a point of bringing him up to be ‘proper’ and ‘gentlemanly’ (perhaps to make up for some shortcomings with Bruce) but Robin’s own childhood in the Circus was closer to what Starfire was describing--the performers spent so much time traveling and setting up and breaking down the circus that they had to catch sleep when they could, sleeping in piles, often with little regard for gender or age. He remembered sleeping splayed across his parents’ laps when he was small, or with his cheek smushed against Samson the Strongman’s bicep, or even in the pile of poodles, borzois, and border collies that made up the act of ‘Rivka’s Fabulous Tumbling Dogs.’ Sometimes he would even wake up with white greasepaint smudged in his hair from sleeping on one of the clowns’ shoulders. But now here he was, feeling like a bit of an idiot as Starfire pulled some sheets off the bed and the extra pillow and handed them over to him, before plopping down cross-legged on the bed herself and turning on the hotel room TV. 

“Did you want to watch something?” Starfire glanced at him.

“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch,” Robin shrugged.

Robin took the uncomfortable wooden chair next to the too-small hotel table where their mostly-eaten one-half pepperoni one half pineapple-anchovy pizza sat. Starfire quickly flicked through the channels until reaching a public access channel where a reindeer bellowed on the screen.

“The noble caribou,” the narrator spoke, “A proud fixture of the tundras of the north that have roamed these grass-covered polar deserts for thousands of years.”

Robin gave a glance over to Starfire who was lying on her stomach on the bed and kicking her feet back and forth, her chin in her hands like any preppy teenaged earth girl watching her favorite low-budget cringeworthy high school drama starring 29-year-olds.

“But this is not a story of the caribou, no we will focus on a friend who has been here even longer,” the camera panned down to a caribou gnawing some knotty, netted-looking substance from the ground, “That industrious, unsung hero: The lichen. This is... Life of Lichen.” 

“What happened to ‘World of Fungus?’” Robin tilted his head.

“You remembered?” Starfire perked up.

“I mean it’s your favorite,” Robin shrugged, “Or I guess this is your new favorite?”

“Life of Lichen is the sequel!” Starfire said excitedly, “Technically it is the third sequel. The first was ‘Our Friend the Algae,’ the second was, ‘World of Fungus’ and now it is ‘Life of Lichen!’ Because you need both algae and fungus to create it,” She paused a bit, “I can... change it if you prefer something else though.”

“Nah I kind of like it. It’s calming,” said Robin, “I used to only research stuff for like... missions and investigations... it’s nice to just... be interested in things.” He craned in his seat a little to see better.

“There is room,” said Starfire, scooting herself over, “You can see better here.”

Robin paused for a few seconds, then got up and took a seat on the bed, propping some pillows up against the headboard for himself to lean against. 

“While lichen bears superficial similarity to moss, there are many differences, the first starting with composition. Mosses, of course, are plants, while lichens are composite organisms, there are over 20,000 known species...” The documentary narrator continued talking as the camera panned across a rainbow of lichens on the side of a rock and Robin found his eyelids drooping, 

He could have sworn he only rested his eyes for a few minutes when he suddenly startled awake. Most of the hotel room lights were off, save for the bedside lamp, the credits were running on the TV and the previews were next week’s episode were promising to delve into the exciting world of lichens growing on trees, as opposed to this episode which mainly featured lichens growing on rocks.

“Starfire?” Robin said, his voice hoarse with sleepiness.

“Mm?” Starfire was already turning around and fluffing up her pillow, the faint green glow of her eyes creating a low spooky light in the room.

“The floor’s kinda gross,” said Robin.

“The floor is indeed gross,” said Starfire.

“Is it cool if--”

“It is very cool,” said Starfire. She reached and got the pillow he had on the floor next to the bed and passed it over to him.

“Alright,” Robin got under the sheets. Maybe he would have found more energy to be flustered about the action if he hadn’t been lulled by an hour of a husky British accent talking about lichens. Starfire seemed to be respecting his ‘earth intimacy hangups’ and slept on her side with her back to him.

“G’night,” said Robin.

“Sleep well,” Starfire’s voice was half muffled into her pillow as he turned off the bedside lamp.

It didn’t take too long for Starfire’s breathing to go slow and rhythmic, but Robin was still staring at the ceiling. 

God, I made that weird, he thought, Why did I have to make such a big deal about sleeping on the floor? I mean I literally was repeatedly saying it’s not a big deal and it wasn’t but now it’s a whole thing. What if she thinks I don’t like her? What if she knows I like her but she’s really pushing the alien thing so we don’t have to address it? No that’s awful, she wouldn’t do that--earth means too much to her to do that. That was shitty of me to think. ‘Earth Intimacy hangups.’ I don’t have earth intimacy hangups. I should probably let her know that it’s probably not cool to tell people they have ‘earth intimacy hangups’ right to their face. I’m cool with it though. Because I don’t make big deals of things. I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal to sleep on the floor. Oh god I’m obsessing over this. 

He turned on his side so that he was facing her back in the bed. He stared at her, watching her shoulders slowly shift with her breath. He tried to match the pace of his breath to hers. 

Tesh’li, huh? he thought, and he felt his eyelids get heavy. He imagined a distant world with high-ceilinged palaces, and a family sleeping in a pile on a heap of luxurious cushions and circular futons, one of their two daughters hovering upside-down just above them. His eyelids slowly slid shut, Doesn’t sound so bad...

He woke up at 2 in the morning drowning in hair.

Starfire was hovering about a half foot off the bed, half the blankets hanging off of her, still in that same ‘lying on her side’ position, though now angled so that the majority of her hair was piled directly on Robin’s face. Robin sputtered quietly, pushing hair out of his eyes and mouth and flinching hard as he realized Starfire was floating.

“Star-pft-fire?” he whispered hoarsely, still pushing hair from his face.

“Robinnn... Kan’ah peq lor-faon eshdarm...” Starfire murmured in Tamaranean.

“...What?” Robin said blankly before she dropped back down onto the bed with a bounce and a loud creak of mattress springs, still dead asleep. A cat-like snore escaped her as she readjusted herself in the blankets. Robin breathed in a steadying breath, coming to terms with what he had just seen and how it was all perfectly normal what with Starfire being an alien. Then he repeated that last mental sentence back to himself and wondered how long ago this work had claimed his sanity like it had claimed Bruce’s. He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought, however, as Starfire turned over in her sleep, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close, her alien strength moving him with the same ease as she might grab a stuffed animal.

“Star?” Robin whispered again as her arm snaked over his chest. He felt her body pressing into him from behind. His face was burning. 

“Hmm... Wurul tai horqarr, Silkie...” she mumbled, squeezing Robin close.

“Er.. Star--I’m not--Ggk!” Robin winced a little at the tight squeeze, wondering for a few seconds if he was going to get a broken rib,  but then Starfire seemed to nuzzle her cheek against his hair and her grip relaxed with a slight sigh.

Her hair was still enveloping him in a river of orange. She was warm--warmer than any human he could remember, and being in her arms felt like that almost- too-warm that’s perfect for dozing off while reading on summer afternoons. She smelled like ozone, and Lapsang-Souchong tea, and fresh-cut citrus. He wondered how he smelled to her. If he smelled like a memory of another planet. He listened to her breathing for a few minutes longer, as the warmth of her sank into him. He felt the exhaustion he always felt like he was barely outrunning catch up to him again, but here he was willing to let it overtake him.

Maybe I should wake her up? I mean... alien strength... don’t want to get crushed if she has a weird dream or something. Probably the smart thing to do, he thought.

“Zontar-ha peq lor-yuur’vyn...”  Starfire murmured in her sleep and readjusted herself against him again, her body curving around him. 

Eh. There are worse ways to go, he thought as he closed his eyes.

[praemonitor]

I'm feeling a lot better today, almost at my 100%. Thank you for your kind wishes.

Mi first draw to the fic? General of the First Order, Armitage Hux. I'm obsessed with that bastard, or rather, with the potential of what the canon could have had given to us, but finally didn't.

At first was a little bit daunting reading a 4 chapter unfinished fic with > 75k word count, but I decided to give it a go. I was engrossed with chapter 1 and 2, but what made me 150% invested in the story was minisode III, with all regarding the Finalizer and the quest of it's people for survival; it was amazing with the way you describe it, the tension, the urgency, the despair without failing into defeatism (Hux being a boss indeed.).

I remembered being pretty happy when I saw the update for minisode V (the mission on Naboo is one I re-read regularly), and I literally SCREAMED when a saw the update for minisode VI (I was at the office. I threw a glass of water to the floor to cover my fangirling from my coworkers XD) Needless to say, that that minisode grabbed me by the throat and will never let me go.

I came in for the terrible, uptight, brilliant and damaged Armitage, with the plus incentive of getting gingerpilot. I don't want to start waxing poetry about Poe, because I wouldn't have enough characters left on this ask, but that man? *Sigh* live rent free in my heart since TFA

BUT! all of this gushing for this two, is no a disparage for the Reylo. Canon Raylo never got my disapproval, but also never got me beyond "they're kinda cute together. That could be interesting" But their dinamic in the first of the new is richer a deeper, and a really absorbing facet of the story.

And your take and expansion of the secondary characters? They are everything. I wish Kes was my father (mine is not bad, but is in no way in Kes league. In. No. Way); Dopheld and Kaydel are (sometimes murderous) precious beans who deserve everything good in the galaxy; THE KNIGHTS OF REN, ALL OF THEM (TRoS made them dirty, is all I gonna say), I'm so pleased of how you tied them to the canon in their identities that I cannot believe how attached I am to them; and the Xionos, for better or for worse (fuck Hamada), and all of those from the Colossus and Resistance.

Everything in this story in rich, complex, and spellbinding, made with care, love and passion, like a intricate trapestry full of colors, forms a storys, open to us to appreciate and be in awe at.

Happy Star Wars and may the force be with you. Always

You've brightened my whole day, thank you so much for this message! I'm so excited you have a special place in your heart for Minisode III -- its "haunted ghost story" vibe was really fun to write. And I also loved writing Kes and Hux's dialogue in Minisode VI, what with the political dynamics between the Resistance/New Republic and the First Order as they learn to work together.

And of course, Dopheld Mitaka and Kaydel Ko Connix grabbed their very own side plot and ran with it, so good for them!! I have a very disorganized text document full of scene ideas for Rey and Ben, Poe and Hux, Mitaka and Connix... maybe someday those will see the light of day?? Right now they're an incoherent jumble of words, haha.

Honestly and truly, thank you so much for reaching out. The past year has been rough for me writing-wise. I've actually been trying to write an original novel, which should be fun and exciting, but I keep doubting my creative ability, convinced my plot ideas and original characters are no good.

Further fueling my anxiety, the novel I want to write revolves around controversial real-world topics that are really important to me personally, but I dread the thought of not doing these topics justice and unintentionally triggering online discourse. It really doesn't help that I sit on the sidelines of fandoms I love (i.e. Star Wars, Our Flag Means Death), watching fic writers and fan artists get harassed for any missteps -- real or perceived. It breaks my heart and leaves me too scared to write anything for fear of accidentally causing offense.

Which is all super frustrating because I LOVE writing. So thank you again for your kindness, support, and enthusiasm, and for reminding me why I love writing so much. Have an amazing day!!

[lumosinlove]

Between Fifth and You

(cw in tags)

~

chapter one

“Olives or twist?”

Sirius had to watch the barkeep’s mouth to make out the words beneath the pounding music, which meant Sirius caught the way his eyes skittered across his face almost fearfully. The sheer amount of obsidian in this place probably did nothing to lighten his features. Not to mention, few people knew how to look him in the eye.

“Twist,” he said.

The man nodded and flipped the bottle of gin until it dipped into a shot glass, the glass into the ice. Sirius watched until he was stirring the bitters in and a hand appeared on his shoulder, lips to his neck.

“Burn this,” Saint said, and plucked at Sirius’ shirt sleeve, rubbing the black material between his fingers. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he turned. Saint’s own shirt was unbuttoned half way down his hard chest, light brown skin warm in the flashing club lights. “You’ve worn it too many times.”

“Hello to you, too,” Sirius said. “I like this shirt.”

“I liked it two months ago,” Saint replied. “It’s September now, your highness.”

Sirius scoffed as the bartender slid him his drink.

“You gonna tell everyone the sun did that?” Sirius took a clean sip of gin with one hand and stroked his other through Saint’s gold curls, only suddenly some of the slightly course strands were almost white.

Saint’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t it nice to have a mystery to think about?”

“Oh, yeah, do blonds have more fun?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

The music kicked up a beat that Sirius felt through his spine.

“Why do we always come here?” he leaned a hip against the bar. “We have an entire city.”

“Yeah, fuck the rest of the world, we have one whole city.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saint shook his head. “Because that’s what we do. You see that guy over there? I’ve taken him out four times. Couldn’t tell you his name. They couldn’t tell you mine.”

“Everyone knows your name, Saint.”

Saint grinned. “Maybe. But why do we go back to each other? Because we’re creatures of fucking habit.” Saint cocked his head, stole Sirius’ drink. “And what is this city but a bad, bad habit?”

Sirius’ blood cooled and he looked away.

What am I, Sirius? said the familiar voice from his memory. Am I easy? Am I safe? Do you want me, or am I just familiar now?

He closed his eyes against the memory of his reply.

Bad habit indeed.

XOXO

Spotted—a familiar face from the past. What has this train brought in? Thanks to a tip from @magicinthemaking, I bring you this picture of none other than Remus Lupin (and a certain Southern bell we know and love) under Grand Central’s stars. We missed you, Re—how was England? Or was it Europe?

The rumors can never seem to decide, but why the sudden change in plans to take his Junior year abroad? Here we were thinking he wanted nothing more than to stay.

I wonder how another certain star will feel about this sudden homecoming. And just in time for senior year’s Fall semester, too.

XOXO.

Remus adjusted his suitcase, glad he’d mailed so many of his things home. He’d been on U.S. soil for all of three hours, and he already missed Rome. He wanted to walk down the tiny staircase from his billet family’s apartment and get a cappuccino. He wanted to stand on the drain of the Pantheon and soak up the sheer history in the air.

He already wanted a break.

But he also wanted to see Julian. Sometimes it felt like the only thing pulling him back home was seeing his baby brother’s grin in real life rather than across a Facetime call.

“All good?”

Remus looked up at Leo. His blond hair was still bleached a bright blond from the Roman sun. Their program had ended in May, but Remus was glad they had stayed together. He hadn’t been looking for Leo—for someone to kiss for the first time in the rose garden at the top of the Aventine Hill while Leo told him about its past as a cemetery.

It’s footpaths are laid out like a Minorah, see? Leo had pointed out. To remember. 300 different types of roses isn’t enough. But I like to come here.

Remus thought it had been Leo’s love for history, and his respect, too, that had drawn him in. They both came from a world where the biggest thing most people cared about was what they’d wear to the next party, and who was bringing their next drink.

Remus hadn’t been able to believe his luck, as fragile as his heart was still.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “All good.”

But he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t been friends here, in the city, or at Hogwarts. It had been Rome. Remus didn’t know what their old lives would do to them. But he took Leo’s hand and watched the way Leo fingered the star he wore around his neck, the way he shot Remus his dimpled smile.

“Come on,” Remus said. “I want you to meet Julian.”

XOXO

Good morning Upper East Siders—Gossip Girl here. All trends point to Fall’s Hogwartsers coming back in Black—in more ways than one. Sirius Black’s got a baby brother on campus now, and after another wild summer for the Hogwarts College elite, count me in with the rest of them on wondering what to expect. Rumor is he’s not much like our favorite star.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Sirius kept his eyes on his eggs and toast. “Your missing your tie. Mom said—”

“What do you care?” Regulus replied. “I hear when she used to make you wear one it usually ended up around some other guy’s neck by ten in the morning.”

“If you’re going to believe everything you read on Gossip Girl about me, then maybe I won’t talk to you.”

Regulus smirked. “So, you read it, too.” 

“Boys.”

Both brothers went back to their breakfasts.

“Good morning, mom,” Sirius said.

Walburga Black smiled with her painted lips, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and bending to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t you both look handsome for your first day. Although that leather jacket has seen better days, Sirius. Do what you want for dinner, ask Chef, I don’t care. I’ll be at the House.”

The House. The House of Black, his mother’s million dollar fashion industry.

“Fine,” Regulus nodded, and rose. “I’ll take the first car.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

Regulus just snatched up his backpack.

Saint, James, and Thomas were waiting for him on one of the courtyard tables when Sirius got out of the Escalade. It certainly felt like a first day of a semester. Saint’s neck dripped in gold necklaces—a story behind each one. Thomas, who had replaced his short braids with a closely shaved head, wore a white t-shirt and ripped up jean shorts, gold nose-ring glinting in the sun. James had evidently been helped out by Lily, as usual, a green, tight-fitting Henley shirt bunched up at his elbows. The two flanked Saint, who basked on top of the stone table, head tilted back to bare his throat in a way that made Sirius think of last night, in the back of the bar. He could see a purplish mark he had left there.

“You’re looking surprisingly chipper,” James said when Sirius reached Hogwarts’ courtyard.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, knowing he didn’t. “I’m not failing any classes yet, James.”

His friends went oddly silent. Sirius looked around at them, spreading his hands in confusion. Saint wouldn’t look at him, expression going oddly stoney. Thomas, finally, offered him his phone, biting his lip. Sirius took it.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn’t even bother reading the Instagram caption. Remus loomed out at him from the phone screen.

“Leo Knut,” Saint said. “Who would have thought.”

Sirius cleared his throat and turned away from the picture—from Remus and Leo’s clasped hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be chipper?” he said again, and ignored their unconvinced expressions. “I’ve got class.”

Under his desk while he waited for the rest of the class to show, Sirius pulled out his phone and opened Instagram.

XOXO

Remus approached campus slowly. He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore, even if he knew that wasn’t true. He thought he saw James from afar, but Lily and Kasey didn’t have class today.

Really, Remus didn’t know if he had many friends that weren’t…shared. That didn’t feel too close to home. Manhattan wasn’t that big of an island.

He looked down at his schedule he’d written out on his phone.

The 19th Century Novel - Hogsmeade R#302.

He made his way to the Hogsmeade building and climbed the spiral staircase quickly. It all felt too industrial, too metallic. At least he’d woken up with Leo, who still had the ancient air about him. He didn’t want that bubble to pop.

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall beamed when he walked in, and Remus smiled, too at her familiar Scottish drawl. “It’s so very nice to have you back.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s good to be—”

But the words died on Remus’ tongue. He looked out at the small class—just twenty at this high level—and his heart, out of habit it seemed, had leapt at the sight of familiar dark hair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Pyramus and Thisbe are actually wishing for a wall between them this time.

Sirius’ hair was shorter than it had been at the end of sophomore year, the last time Remus had seen him. He wore a touch of a beard, too, just scruff, really, but it framed his silver eyes like darkness to the stars—two stars, which were zeroed in on Remus.

“Back,” Remus tried to recover, mouth dry. He sent McGonagall a shaky smile, and turned to find a seat, trying not to find those stars again.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in defeat when he realized that there was only one left. He walked towards Sirius looking ahead and with his heart pounding. Leo. Leo making pancakes for him and Julian this morning. Leo making his little brother laugh. But he could smell the worn leather of Sirius’ jacket. He remembered the feel of it around his own shoulders. Are you cold, baby?

“All righty, then,” McGonagall stood from her chair and leaned against the front of her desk, looking down her spectacles at the attendance sheet. “Looks like we’re all here.”

XOXO

“Well?” Saint asked as Sirius took the joint from between his fingers.

“Sat down next to me,” Sirius said. “Didn’t say a fucking word.”

“Did you say a fucking word?” Saint raised his eyebrows.

Sirius blew out smoke. “No.”

“Well, all right, you fucking hypocrite.”

Sirius looked over at him from where they lay side by side, stretched out in the fading sunshine of Central Park. “I’m keeping this now.”

“No, you’re not. Did you pay for that? I don’t think so.”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, like this made a dent in the Montague treasuries.”

Saint laughed, tucking a palm behind his head. Sirius let his eyes linger on the strip of skin where his shirt rode up. He’d kissed that last night, too. It was nice with Saint. He’d been friends with him for longer than he could remember. Saint never looked for more. If Sirius snapped at him, he snapped back and then they laughed about it. Saint wandered through the world loving people freely. He kissed them, or he made them dinner, or he took them for long walks along the river. He showed them his favorite jazz club, or gave them the orgasm of their life, or read to them from his favorite books. He was New York in human form, accepting and inviting, living and breathing.

Sirius wished he was so trusting, even if trust seemed a funny word to apply to Saint.

No one ever got too close to either of them, except the other.

“What are you wearing to your mom’s fashion show?” Saint asked with his eyes closed. “It’s the event of the season.”

“Are you joking? The fittings started in July.”

“Mm, I love that,” Saint grinned, stretching. “Want to come help me decide what I’m wearing? We’re at the Plaza right now, you know that. You know my mother. If it’s not broken, break it. We’re renovating again. We can order champagne to the room.”

“Is that code for make out?”

“Partly. But I will be showing you my outfit choices.”

“Deal.”

XOXO

Remus made it back home seeing no one, but one of the butlers had an envelope with his name on it waiting for him.

“Thanks, Moody,” Remus murmured, but thought briefly about handing it right back to him.

He knew this invitation. He knew its black boarders and heavy stock. It came ever year.

It used to be something they had looked forward to.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

invites you

TOUJOURS PUR

“Jesus,” Remus breathed, but took it up to his room, checking the time on the way. Julian would still be at school, his parents at work. This apartment was too big for the four of them, not to mention just Remus alone.

His suitcases still lay open and unpacked on his floor, and he kicked at one without looking up.

“So, did you just forget to mention that you were home?”

Remus spun towards his bed, only to find Lily sprawled across it and fiddling with an emerald on a chain.

“I had to find out from Gossip Girl?” Lily shook her head.

Remus slapped the invitation against his thigh. “Wow, wasn’t like that was a surprise present for you or anything.”

Lily smiled, red hair in a thick french braid. “I see green and I know it’s for me. What can I say?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and she gave a small squeal and pushed off of the bed to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Re.”

He let himself rest his chin in the crook of her neck for a moment. ‘Thanks, Lils.”

She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “What, no, me too?”

“I am,” he said tentatively. “But I had fun in Rome.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Southern fun?”

“His name is Leo,” Remus said pointedly, then eyed the pile of garment bags piled high on the other side of his bed. “Are those…”

“Pour moi, et pour toi,” Lily patted his cheek. “We have a fashion show to go to, sweetheart.”

XOXO

What do we think, Courtiers? House of Black’s fashion show is the biggest event of the fall. But what on Earth does doe-eyed Remus Lupin have to do within that dark forest now?

Is he a Bambi, or still the wolf we knew?

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

[sometimesoliloquy]

The Handmaid’s Tale 5x01 “Morning” & 5x02 “Ballet”👀

Initial thoughts, mostly incoherent and out of order because I watched the other night and didn’t have time to write down or re-watch yet so these are just bits that stuck out to me most and lodged in my brain:

Kinda sad they left the pistol whip (and of course the kiss) out of the s4 recap.

pretty pretty please can someone make a parallels gif set of Nick touching his hand to his lips at the breakfast table / Nick and June kissing in the woods in 4x10, alongside June touching her neck when she cuts her hair in s4 / Nick and June kissing on the bridge where he touches her neck in the same place? I need this in my life.

I’m still surprised that Rose knows (some things at least) about June and how Nick helped her. I am glad that he is able to trust her enough to reveal that much, she seems very genuine and given it’s Nick I’d think he has good reason he feels he can. He still definitely seems very guarded while they’re discussing it, though. Seems like afraid to reveal too much of the feelings and motivations behind it, most likely. He seems to be having a wide array of emotions: still affected from seeing June and their kiss, worried about potential consequences for her, and for him, and maybe feeling guilty talking to his wife about June (we don’t really know what the expectations of this marriage and relationship are yet, at least to her).

I hate that the brief mention of June and reference to Nick clearly thinking about her is the only osblaine we get in these 2 episodes but here we are, let’s hope we survive the season.

I mean honestly. how very fucking DARE they subject us to the tango again, not once but TWICE(?). Even if Serena is a psychopath this cannot be the happiest moment Serena can remember of the two of them.

I’m a little confused about the gun, about the other ladies’ vengeance league member giving one to June and her subsequent burial of it… cus didn’t she already have a gun? She gave Fred the choice of the gun or whistle, right? (Oo you chose poorly, Fred!) So was this her second gun and did she bury the other one too? Or was this just bad continuity in that writing?

Mark. fucking. TUELLO. WELL fucking DONE indeed, sir. I was not expecting that and I have never liked him more than in this moment. Personally, this may be my biggest surprise so far  (granted I did read some spoilers) and I’m glad because I think I’ve been wanting to like him but hadn’t been able to get there yet... I am still proceeding with caution because I think I heard Sam Jaeger say in an interview something about his character fucking up this season so he can still disappoint me again, but am hopeful. I also very much enjoyed his awkward interaction with Aunt Lydia and how offended she was (what, are you NEW here?). He just needs to get over his fucked up crush on Serena (SHE’LL ONLY BREAK YOUR HEART, MARK!).

the latest baby Nichole is so STINKING CUTE, and she has her daddy’s pout.

I adore Moira but she’s pissing me off. Killing her rapist does not mean June is a danger to her OWN DAUGHTER. WTH What does she think, that June will try to drown her in the bathtub? She has been last season and continues to be very judgey and not understanding as to how June is handling her trauma, which is very different than Moira’s but you’d think she could understand a bit more having also survived Gilead. Like ok yes I get that your best friend coming home covered in blood and giddy that she literally tore someone apart would be disturbing, but it’s not like these are normal circumstances... We saw Moira furious that Fred was gonna get away with it and June at least took action and stopped that. Also if Moira knows about salvagings I’d think she would know that Handmaids participation wasn’t exactly optional and they’re not an infrequent thing which kind of desensitizes a person to that kind of violence over time. Part of me kind of feel that, like Luke, she maybe needs June to just be OK (if maybe to a lesser extent than Luke) because of the survivor’s guilt she’s held onto for “leaving June behind”, but also maybe because June not being ok from her trauma might be triggering to Moira’s trauma?? (I think this may be the case a bit with Rita, too? Although I understand Rita more because June trying to rile her up about Serena was pretty annoying... “hey, remember when Serena  bitch slapped you?”..uh, thanks June, what a pleasant and productive trip down memory lane. I also get June needing someone to be furious at Serena with her, too, though. After the end of ep 2 however I think that may be less of a problem, in addition to, no we will not just be “letting it go” with Serena…

Overall I’m sad about the state of June and Moira’s friendship, theirs is one of the relationships I love the most in this show and I hope they’ll come through it. At least Moira finally said “I love you” back, even if she hesitated

Luke is also pissing me off but that’s not new. THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU, LUKE.

The only thing I think I agree with Moira about in these episodes it that Luke should not just be trying to sweep everything under the rug like “oh yeah, baby, I totally understand, I’m actually totes cool with the whole murder with your bare hands thing now that you explain it like THAT but also fuck you if you leave me cus I need you cus it’s about me.” Like maybe being a supportive understanding husband could include trying to  make June feel safe and loved, not obligated, and maybe encouraging some help from a mental health professional (you know, like Nick did when he was rightfully worried about June’s mental state, risking and incurring the wrath of Serena) instead of just pretending that she’s fine and everything is fine because he's just terrified of her leaving him. “I’ll take the win” did provide a tiny bit of comic relief for me but I really don’t think it’s a good long term strategy.

Also, I HATE that Luke calls June BABY. And that’s not even a Nick/Luke thing, I just really hate that as a term of endearment (especially from a grown man to a grown woman).

I liked that both the police officers and the prosecutor who talk to June are all women. I also saw someone else point out that all the officers who come to Serena’s room to move her to a secure location are also women, so that’s interesting. Definitely a contrast from Gilead.

Esther looking at Nick, and he recognizes her back? I guess maybe she saw him/ they recognize each other from when they arrested her at the farm? We didn’t see it but he told June she was in custody. God if so she must HATE him... best stay away from the chocolate for now, Nick!

Ok but I kind of love Naomi. As much as one can love a Gilead commander’s wife (aside from Elinor... and maybe Rose, she seems cool for now anyway but I guess we’ll see). My god does that woman love a macaron croquembouche. Seems a bit festive for a funeral reception but hey, I’m celebrating and I love a macaron so no complaints here.

GAWHD, I know we knew Warren was a creep but at least we didn’t really have to explicitly see him creep his creepiest creepiness before... Can’t wait til later in the season.

Of COURSE Nick’s immediate question is how is June, and how is their daughter, and now I’m crying.

NICK NEEDS TO SEE HIS BB DAUGHTER (still crying). Tuello, you need to be more persuasive, ok? It’s ok, you can take lessons from June. Making friends and influencing people.

Serena is going to SMOKE? Hey, um, remember your miracle baby, Serena? that you’re pregnant with right now? Remember how you supported overthrowing a democracy to help instate a demonic hellscape of a country, slaughtering countless people and enslaving and abusing the majority of the rest, apparently all so that you, personally, could have a baby, any baby, even if you had to rape for it and then steal the baby? In a world where carrying a healthy baby to term is very rare and so many are born with birth defects? Like smoking while pregnant has also been proven to cause? I already thought it was weird and fucked up when she smoked in the house while June was pregnant but this is another level.

I am v scared for Esther. She’s kind of unhinged but god knows she has reason to be and I kind of love her. I love Janine too, but ugh her trying to mentor Esther to “make her commander like her” and get pregnant and how beautiful or whatever being pregnant is had me cringing and kinda pissed. It was disturbing and reminded me a bit of Serena happily coaching 15 year old Eden for her wedding night and “wifely duties”... And it was ESPECIALLY upsetting coming after the gross airplane creepy commander scene. I get that this is part of Janine’s coping mechanism for herself and she also sees it as helping Esther survive, and of course Janine didn’t explicitly KNOW about the creeping, but she DOES know first hand that Warren is indeed a creepy creep (unless she is still stockholm syndromed with him?). Honestly I kind of don’t blame Esther, I’d be pissed and probably want to do something drastic too.

I mean Nick looks good in a suit but anyone else long for the good old days of the brown t-shirt? Just me? Ah, simpler times.

Serena is a sociopath. Prove me wrong.

But as evil as she is, I have to be glad that something happened to snapped June out of her temporary “everything is fine and great and  normal again, just gonna go back to being Luke’s fun and definitely not angry wife” bubble. Serena or no Serena, your bb girl is still in Gilead and rapidly becoming not a bb girl so tick tock, time for action.

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part two (final). (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, pining, smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series.

❧ word count ⟶ 16,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack, character death (non-major), smut which includes ... passionate to rough sex, oral (female receiving), penetration, fingering, unprotected sex (please have sex responsibly lol). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n ⟶ I am still fairly new to writing smut so sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations 😭 also to all my people who don’t like smut “*” signals where you can stop reading as the smut is really just a bonus scene at the end. and remember dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple = present

01 | 02 (final) 

“God were we dramatic,” you laugh, glad that the recollection of your big fight with Jungkook was something that could by now be laughed at rather than seen as something you’d dearly regret, “Don’t you think?” you ask Jungkook, concern immediately washing over you once you see the sad look on his face, “Jungkook?”

Jungkook stares blankly at the lake in front of him, surprised at the resurgence of the same heavy feeling in chest he had felt several months before, “Did I—Did I say something wrong?” you worry that you’ve hurt his feelings, that being one of, if not the, last thing you wanted to do tonight.

Quietly he nods his head no, “I just—” he struggles to voice his thoughts, “I was—” he shakes his head and you grab his hand in comfort, giving him a small smile.

“Hey,” you giggle, “what happened is in the past,” you reassure.

“I know but—” he sighs, pushing his hair back with his other hand, “I just still feel bad, you know? I mean we went a whole month without talking…. practically hating one another…”

August 2019. 

It had been about a month since your explosive argument with Jungkook, and despite living together... the two of you had never been so far apart. Not only were you not on speaking terms, but it was as if neither of you existed in each other's proper world, completely avoiding each other at all costs.

One would think that because you two lived with one another, you’d be bound to have some kind of awkward bump ins from time to time, but somehow the two of you managed to steer clear of each other. From eating breakfast and dinner at separate times, to talking to Hobi at your own respective times, and of course the first thing Jungkook did the next day after your fight was move his things out of your restroom and into Hobi’s. You weren’t going to lie, it did sting just a little , but you were quick to get over it. The part that made Hobi roll his eyes even further back than they already did, was how quickly you two scrambled around each other whenever you did happen to coincidentally be in the same place such as the kitchen.

Originally Hobi tried any and every method possible to get you two to make up, knocking on doors and trying to trick you two into talking, faking handwriting, stealing personal belongings, and of course begging. Hell, he even tried confronting you two in one of the rare times you guys were in the kitchen at the same time, but all you two did was remain silent and go back into your respective rooms. Not bothering to even spare a glance at one another.

He had given up about two weeks in of trying, deciding that it was up to you two to figure out how you guys would make up. But it wasn’t until this Friday morning when he saw a certain letter stick out of the mail that he found himself loudly sighing.

“Oh Jungkook…” he whispers to himself, shaking his head as he read the letter in front of him. What was he going to do now?

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to get used to being the lone wolf in the apartment again, in fact it was easy for him to completely ignore your existence. It was easy to watch you struggle opening a jar full of kimchi. It was easy to catch a glimpse of you and Hobi watching One Piece on the couch whenever he was making his way out of the apartment to go and party. It was easy to hear you sing along to some new girl group song and not join along whenever he passed by your room. And it was very easy to hate you. Very easy indeed.

Gosh, who was he kidding? It was the hardest freaking thing in the world to do. Especially because he didn’t hate you at all. Pretending to? Yes. Actually? Fuck no.

If he was being honest, any hatred he had felt in the moment of the big argument had been rapidly washed away the moment he slammed his door shut. Instead it had been quickly replaced by the feeling of hurt and sadness. He even found himself sneaking into the kitchen that night to grab an extra pint of ice cream from the freezer and watch some stupid K-drama from his laptop back in his room. Even shedding a small tear when the male and female lead had to break up due to unforeseen circumstances. But of course if you asked him if it was true, he’d deny it in a heartbeat.

He’d often find himself zoning out and replaying the fight in his head. God, was he an idiot. What was he thinking destroying your painting like that? Did he really think you weren’t going to react the way you did? Sadly, the answer was a mixture of both yes and no. Yes, he wanted you to feel as hurt as he did, but he didn’t expect you to go fully ballistic on him. Did he blame you for it? No, of course not. You had every right to be mad at him as he had acted out in completely blind rage. Not bothering to stop for one moment and ask himself, am I okay with the possible outcome of what I’m about to do? Had he known it was going to be this, and well … he would’ve never done it.

It just happened so quick. One moment he was staring at the floor covered with broken pieces of glass and the next he had his fist going through the canvas of your painting, destroying the very thing he convinced you to work on. No wonder you hated him…

You hated him and you had every right to. He just wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to take it anymore. Having to only catch glimpses of you from time to time and not being able to say anything because he was too ashamed to even look at you was truly killing him. And he could only imagine how you felt having to see him every day and night. Knowing the person you hated most was living under the same roof as you. Hell, if the roles were reversed he probably wouldn’t want you around at all.

Which is why as Jungkook currently stares aimlessly at the ceiling of his room, he knows he’s made the right decision.

The night of the fight between you and Jungkook, you had felt a range of emotions that honestly were quite overwhelming. Whenever you’d stare off into space you’d find yourself feeling very sad and reflective, but whenever you even caught a glimpse of your then destroyed painting on the floor you’d feel the rush of anger return all at once. It was like that the whole night, not even an episode of One Piece could cheer you up. If anything it made you feel even more confused because you were on the episode where (spoiler alert) *** dies, and well not only were you mad at how it happened, but sad because it was happening. Hell, that was probably the best way to describe how you felt about the whole argument.

The first couple of days had been hard to say the least, the dynamic between all three of you drastically changing in the matter of a couple days. No longer were there grocery shopping trips together, nor were there laundry days where you and Jungkook would compete to see who could fold the fastest, and of course there were no longer Netflix movie nights where Hobi would complain because you and Jungkook kept cracking too many jokes during the most intense scenes. Your laughs always echoing across the living room walls thus ruining the buildup of the scene.

You were good at pretending you didn’t care, in fact you were great at it. Maybe because a part of you actually didn’t care. You had long been fed up with Jungkook’s moody antics, and him destroying that painting was the final straw. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have gone into his room after he specifically told you not to, but you only did because you were worried about him and actually cared about him. Couldn’t he have seen that before he went full on rampage mode and destroyed your painting? He was wrong for what he did, and at the end of the day he had no right to hate you. Right?

These days you found yourself doubting it. It wasn’t like you were in the entire right, you mean you had invaded his privacy … you shake your head, begrudgingly getting out of bed before dwelling on your thoughts for any longer. The re-do of your painting, which currently sat on its easel, serving as reminder that you weren’t planning on talking to him anytime soon.

“Good Morning to you,” Hobi greets, watching you stomp your way into the kitchen, clearly running on an empty stomach. Jungkook was currently out, either working out or …. Hobi sighs recalling what he saw in the letter this morning.

“Good morning,” you mumble, the grouchy mood that Hobi found himself a little too used to making its morning return. In all the years he’s known you, to see you always this …. down …. was very unlike of you to say the least.

Whether you liked it or not, your fight with Jungkook had definitely changed some aspects of your personality, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself yet. Because no matter how good you were good at faking it, and trust him you were good (a professional indeed), behind that tough wall you had put up in the last month was a person who was hurt. A person who had their heart crushed right in front of them.

Grabbing two slices of bread, you place them in the toaster, preparing to make yourself some avocado toast. You sigh when you hear Hobi’s footsteps getting closer, not wanting to hear the whole “You need to talk to Jungkook” speech this early on a Saturday morning.

Turning around to face him, you’re prepared to protest against his usual lecture, “Hobi I don’t—” the sound of an envelope hitting the counter catching you off guard, stopping you from continuing any further. Furrowing your brows, your eyes glint with confusion. Hobi stares at you with a stoic expression, waiting for you to grab the letter from the island’s counter.

Slowly you grab the white envelope, extremely confused as to what this had to do with. The name on the recipient line reads, “Jeon Jungkook” and for a small second you feel your heart stop, but you’re quick to shake it off.

“This isn’t mine, if you can’t tell,” you scoff, preparing to hand the envelope back to Hobi.

Pushing your hand away, he says, “Read it,” his tone telling you that it wasn’t exactly an option.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out the single piece of paper that’s inside, unfolding the tri-folded letter. Your eyes quickly gaze over the subject line which reads, “Application Approval,” catching your attention. From there you continue to read…

Dear Jeon Jungkook,

We are pleased to notify you that we have received and accepted your application for the lease property of **** Jangsin-Ro, Apartment 32. Your lease will begin on September 28, 2019 and your rent amount is ₩****  for every 1st of the month. Any cancellations will result in a ₩*** fee. I want to thank you for your application and anticipate that you will have an enjoyable living experience in your new home.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Sincerely,

Bang Si-Hyuk.

Wait what? Your eyes reread the letter that’s in front of you because clearly you were reading something wrong. Your eyes must’ve been deceiving you because there was just no way…. Looking up at Hobi, you hope this was another of his attempts to get you to talk to Jungkook, but there he stood, straight faced as ever.

“He’s—” your voice whimpers like a little kid, “He’s moving out?”  

“Ow!” Jungkook squirms, the feeling of your fingers pinching his arm hurting him, “What was that for?!” he yelps.

“For trying to move out without telling us! And don’t you dare ever pull something like that again,” you scold him, tempted to pinch him again.

Garnering a laugh out of him, you cross your arms like a kid and huff a loud breath of air, “Ah I won’t, I won’t,” he giggles, “Maybe…” he mumbles, but he’s quick to raise his arms in defense once he sees you ready to pinch him once again, “I’m just kidding,” he sings and you roll your eyes.

“Serves you right,” you mutter, letting out the hurt you felt that day to him because honestly, you had never gotten the opportunity to do so…

September 2019.

“Jungkook is moving out. Jungkook is moving out. Jungkook is moving out,” you think to yourself, having to come to terms with the fact that in exactly 48 hours from now Jungkook was officially going to be out of your life … for good.  

You were shocked to say the least, when you saw the application letter, not exactly sure about what you felt. You mean, yeah you were definitely mad at Jungkook, but enough to the point where you wanted him officially out of your life? Hell no.

So then where the hell did he even get the idea to move out? It wasn’t like you two were being mean to each other, nor was there blatant hatred being shown on your part. All you two were doing were ignoring each other like two little kids. That should not be cause for someone to move out. Not at all!

A knock on the door catches your attention, “You ready?” Hobi asks, dressed in business like attire. His all black suit made him seem almost intimidating, that was until your eyes landed on his newly dyed cherry-red hair only causing you to stifle a small laugh.

Nodding your head, you look at yourself in the mirror one last time. Tonight was the night of the art exhibition, and you were very very nervous. You had turned in your piece a couple of days prior, but to have to later unveil it in front of everyone along with giving a small speech was nerve wracking. Especially considering you hadn’t involved yourself in the world of the arts for several years now, if anything you were used to constantly talking about accounting numbers and different business statistics.

“It’s either now or never,” you whisper to yourself, not knowing what awaited you.

“I just don’t get it Hobi,” you rant in the car, on your way to the galleria’s location, “he didn’t see me trying to move out when he was being nothing but a complete dick to me those first couple of months!” you pout, still not having accepted that Jungkook was moving out, despite constantly reminding yourself that he was.

Hobi sighs, feeling as if he’s heard you rant about this since you’ve found out … oh wait … you have! “Y/N—” he begins.

“No listen to me Hobi!” you interrupt, “Can he really not stand the sight of me that he feels the need to move out?? Was me going into his room really that big of an issue,” your voice wavers a bit, but you continue nonetheless, “And the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to tell you! So what? He was just planning on disappearing this coming Monday! Thinking no questions were going to be raised? I mean imagine you hadn’t seen that letter, he would’ve left thinking I hate him!” And to that Hobi lets out a scoff.

“What do you mean?” he scrunches his face, “He still is!” Hobi raises his finger before you could talk, “My turn,” he firmly states, only causing you to drop your defensive shoulders and roll your eyes.

“You two have not talked at all since your stupid little argument where clearly both of you were in the wrong!” he rants, repeating what he’s been saying for the last two months, the topic becoming tiresome, “And now one of you is leaving because neither of you can get over yourselves and just initiate some kind of freaking conversation! Just one conversation and I am one hundred percent sure everything will get cleared up and we can all go back to our daily lives, but nooooo both of you think we’re in some freaking K-drama, actually no, even K-dramas make up faster than the two of you!” he ends his rant on an insult, and you’re left there momentarily speechless.

“You are so—”

“I’m what?” Hobi glares at you, and you only narrow your eyes at him in return.

“You are so wrong,” you state, refusing to now look at him, instead looking out the window.

“I’m right and you know it,” you mumble something under your breath in response, “You invaded his privacy after he repeatedly told you not to, but for some reason you just felt the impulsive need to go into his room and find out what he was hiding. You know, I’m sorry Y/N but if Jungkook’s the biggest dickhead in existence then you my friend are the pushiest one,” he complains, finding his grip on the steering wheel becoming tighter. God, did the two of you get his blood pressure boiling up.

“You don’t get it, I had to go into his room,” you mutter, not exactly happy with the fact that Hobi is reading you for filth.

“No you didn't,” the two of you begin to go back and forth, voice raising with every sentence.

“Yes, I did.”

“No you did not.”

“Um yes—”

“Um n—”

“Yes, how else was I going to be able to find out what was hurting him?” you interrupt, turning to face Hobi, feeling the migraine in your head about to pop.

“And why would you need to know that?”

“Because I lo—” you quickly catch yourself before you could complete the sentence, crossing your arms and pouting. Like hell you’d confess in front of Hobi.

Hobi looks at you knowingly, “Because you what,” he taunts, knowing exactly what you were going to say,

“Just drive,” you mumble, your attention back to the window beside you, focusing on the view of the city streets.

“Ah Y/N, there you are!” Jimin greets you and Hobi, having barely walked in from your argumentative car ride, “You’re on in like ten minutes,” he nervously chuckles, worrying only minutes ago that you were going to be a no-show.

“That quick?” you ask in complete shock, barely having taken off your dress-coat. The churns in your stomach begin to make you feel physically sick and there’s now a certain dryness to your throat that you could only accredit to the tension you were now feeling. Your palms were even beginning to get a little sweaty. Why were you doing this again? Oh yeah … Jungkook.

“Come on let’s go and get you set up,” Jimin tugs at your hand, pulling you to follow him. With your other hand, you attempt to look for your flash cards, wanting to remind yourself of the specific points you needed to cover.

“What the—” your heart drops, unable to feel the flimsy piece of paper anywhere near the coat that hung against your arm, “Oh no,” you murmur to yourself, not wanting to panic Jimin, “No, no, no,” you repeat to yourself.

“Okay here we are,” he stops you two in front of your draped-covered painting, pulling out a lapel mic from his pocket, clipping it onto the collar of your outfit. Now that you weren’t moving, you were now barely taking note of just how many people filled the galleria, and it was a lot. There had to be at least 200 people, minimum. Each and every one of them slowly looking around at the already unveiled art pieces, their eyes doing the judging for them.

“Jimin I don’t know—”

“Hey, you’re gonna do just fine, it’s just a bit of stage fright I’m sure,” he reassures, and though you appreciate the gesture, coming from him it just didn’t mean much. You see, Jimin has always been what's called an optimistic person, similar to you in a way. Always trying to find the good in the bad. But in order for his words to really have some effect, it would’ve been better if he was a pessimist, someone who always saw the negative in everything because then to hear that you would do just fine would come more as a shock rather than as something expected, someone like—

You shake your head,“I’m just,” your outfit suddenly begins to feel as if it's squeezing the life out of you, “I’m really nervous,” you whisper to him out of breath, watching as people begin to crowd around your area. Were the walls closing in or was it just you?

He begins to test the mic, “Jimin—” you repeat his name, a cry for help, “I can’t—” but it’s too late.

“Hello everyone,” he speaks into his own microphone, and you scan the audience to see if you can spot Hobi. When you do, you notice the look of panic he has on his own face, probably aware of your distressed state, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, “This artist I’m introducing to you, has been a personal friend of mine for years. I’ve known her since my first year in college, and I can vouch for just how talented she is,” Jimin glances at you, unaware of just how truly panicked you were, “So without further ado, y/n take it away,” he steps away, leaving you under the sole spotlight.

Remaining silent for a moment, you stare at the several pairs of eyes that had their gaze solely focused on you. “H-Hello,” you stutter into the mic, glad that it wasn’t a handheld one as you were sure that you would’ve been a jittering mess, “Um my name is y/n l/n,” you nervously smile, trying to find something to focus your attention on. Originally you planned on staring at Hobi the whole time, only to find out it made you even more of a stuttering mess. God, was it getting hot in here.

“So um I think we should um reveal the painting first,” you sputter out, signalling to Jimin that it was time. Slowly he removes the drape, the sound of clapping providing you a bit of a soothing effect. People liked it. People freaking liked it. It felt as if a brick or two had been dropped from your shoulders.

You gulp continuing with your speech, “So I um—” breathe y/n, “I call this piece safety net,” you turn sideways towards the painting, ready to explain, “I call it that because as y-you can see in the painting,” you mindlessly point to it as if the audience couldn’t see it themselves, “There’s the um the figure falling into what I call a safety net of flowers and—” you stare at the painting along with them, finding yourself getting lost in your own work, “well I painted this after—” you pause, the room completely silent, “after finding myself wanting to be someone’s safety net,” you mumble to yourself, a certain person coming to mind.

There’s an awkwardness to the room, the kind of stiffness you only find in tense moments. You weren’t sure if it was because the audience was trying to be respectful or you were just making a complete mess out of yourself, but either way Jimin awkwardly coughs, “So um we will now take questions from the audience,” Jimin hesitantly says, by now noticing the extremely panicked state you were in, but unsure of what to do.

A woman raises her hand, a volunteer for the galleria handing her a mic, “Hello,” she politely greets, giving you a warm smile, “So I was curious as to why you chose two colors that don’t conventionally go well together, I was wondering if you did that on purpose or…” and though you know her question means no harm, the voice in your head was convincing you that this was some kind of an attack.

“I um—” your breathing becomes heavier, “I—” Just speak, you keep telling yourself. Tell her that you chose two colors because they represented two different personalities. Say something you freaking idiot. “I um c-chose—” you begin to hear the sound of people murmuring all around you, their voices echoing loudly through your head. What were they saying? Did they hate your painting? Did they think it made absolutely no sense? Was it really that bad? What were you thinking when agreeing to do all this? How could you have been convinced to do this? You didn’t paint anymore for this exact reason.

With every thought that races through your mind, the sudden sense of impending doom only becomes stronger and your rapid breathing becomes louder. You had to be sweating because God did it feel like a fucking sauna in here. The tightness in your throat wasn’t helping at all as well only making the feeling of nausea further overwhelming. You needed to get out of here. Now.  

And so without thinking… you run.

You yank out the mic and begin to run to God knows where, ignoring the shouts of your name along with the small number of gasps that could be heard.You needed to breathe again, and you desperately needed this feeling of danger to be gone.

Trying not to bump into too many people walking the dark city streets of Seoul, focusing on the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement, tuning out everything around you. “Just run,” you tell yourself, “Run until no one can find you.”

Soon the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement becoming the sound of your heels crunching against leaves. The pitch blackness of your surroundings causes tears to begin to well up, the trembling of your fingers along with the chills running down your spine making you feel as if you were running in an endless loop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

You come to sudden halt, pushing your arm against a nearby tree, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were alone now, isn’t this what you wanted? So then why did you still feel as if the world was crashing down on you. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why were hot tears spilling from your eyes? What the hell was wrong with you?

By now your sobs are in full force, your heaving chest only adding to its force. Because of your crying, you fail to hear a voice, “There you are!” Jungkook catches his breath, surprised at how fast you could run in heels. For a small second he thought he had lost you in the chase, with the way you maneuvered around everyone, he was thankful he hadn’t.

“Y/N,” he calls out, expecting you to turn, but he’s met with silence. You were having a panic attack, a bad one at that. Making his way closer to you, he’s careful in how he approaches you, grabbing your hand before you could run any further, “Y/N,” he repeats, this time turning you to face him, but you continue to cry in hysteria, your vision blurred by just how fast tears were falling from your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me y/n,” he cups your face with his hands, a worrisome but firm look on his face, “I need you to breathe with me, okay?” your chest continues to heave, the rapid breaths of air coming from your mouth at an alarming rate, “Y/N!” he shouts, causing you to go silent, “Y/N…” he softly repeats, knowing he’s gotten your attention. You stare at him in silence, “One,” he inhales a big breath of air, “Two,” he exhales out, “Inhale,” he repeats his actions again, “Exhale,” he breathes out.

Slowly you begin to follow. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

In no time, your heartbeat begins to slow down, your mind focused enough on the task at hand that you begin to forget why you were ever panicked to begin with. “Hey,” Jungkook whispers, caressing your cheek with his hand, “You’re doing great,” he reassures you, providing you the words of comfort you so desperately needed to hear right now.

It had been so long since you’d gone through having a panic attack, almost forgetting just how bad they could sometimes get. But for now staring into Jungkook’s eyes and practicing some breathing exercises was enough to remember that no matter how bad they got, you’d get through them.

His fingers gently graze your cheeks, continuing to mumble small phrases of reassurance while you were getting control of yourself.  “Has anyone ever told you,” you place a finger to the corner of his eye, quietly breathing your words out, “you have very round eyes,” you say and Jungkook lets a huffed laugh out in response.

He scrunches his nose and smiles, “Yeah, a lot of people have actually,” he laughs, a toothy grin spreading across his face while he uncups your cheeks, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over him as he knew you were going to be just fine, “I’ve been told they look like a doe’s eyes,” you quietly nod your head yes, agreeing with his statement, a warm smile on your face.

“Come on,” he intertwines your fingers, gently pulling you to follow him and leading you to a park bench that was near. But the thing was, it wasn’t just any park bench, it was the park bench from the night Jungkook was drunk and the two of you had gotten into the fight with that drunk man. What were the odds? You hadn’t even noticed that you ran this far till now...  

He exhales a large breath of air once you two sit, allowing a neither comfortable nor awkward silence fill the air. Despite the heartwarming moment that happened only minutes ago, there were still things that needed to be talked about. Things that simply couldn’t be forgotten. It was the sole reason he had gone to the art exhibition because he wanted, no, he needed to talk to you.

He just hadn’t expected to see you running out in complete panic right as he walked in. The tears that were slowly rolling down from your eyes, causing him to feel a sudden sense of heartbreak. For the only reason you’d ever cry would be if your hard work were to be destroyed, whether physically or emotionally. It was the same despaired look you had given him that fateful day he decided to throw everything good that was becoming of his life out the window.

And so to see the scene in front of him play out had definitely caused both a mix of anger and sadness to boil within him. His urge to defend and protect you, almost overcoming his need to go out and make sure you were okay. That was until he found himself running out the door, signalling to Hobi that he’d handle it.

And so now here the two of you were, quietly sitting on a park bench with your hands being the only things physically touching, a comfort of its own for the both of you. It didn’t feel weird nor did it feel wrong because if anything it just felt right.

A part of you thinks and hopes it could remain like this forever, scared that if it didn't, you’d have to return back to the world where you and Jungkook were nothing more than strangers who were once friends. The world where acting as if one or the other didn’t exist was completely normal. The one where you’d find your heart selfishly longing for him despite stubbornly not wanting to. And so whether it be for a small second, a minute, or an hour, for now at least you just wanted to savor the moment because who knew what would possibly happen if he decided to leave and never come back.

“Y/N…” he begins.

“Shh,” you whisper, your puffy eyes softly gazing at the view of the trees in front of you, the silhouettes of trees as well sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches, a view you were once so scared of, not so scary anymore, “Just one more second,” you close your eyes, taking in one final breath of air. Jungkook feels his heart swell at the sight, remembering the scene from only months ago where it had been you doing all the staring. You pull his hand when you’re ready, your soft gaze now directed towards him.

“I just—” he begins to stutter, “I wanted to—” he feels his eyes get watery, the rush of emotion he was beginning to feel almost overwhelming him, “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” his voice slightly cracks, “for everything,” he whispers, allowing a tear to fall from his eye, feeling the weight he had been holding onto his shoulders now falling. The small leaks of vulnerability that you had occasionally seen now completely flooding through his walls of defense, that single tear becoming several, until soon you hear a sob emit from his mouth, but by then you have him wrapped in a hug, the sound of his sobs being muffled by your shoulder. Slowly you caress his hair, gently stroking and twirling the locks of his wavy hair in between your fingers, deciding that this time around silence was the best way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he hysterically cries, holding onto you tighter, as if you’d go anywhere. He begins to shake his head, struggling to find the words that’d best describe how he felt at this current moment, “I’m—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” it’s your turn to say the words, gently pushing him off you so he could meet your gaze, “I know,” you reassure, “and I forgive you. The same way I’m sure you’ve forgiven me for snooping around your room like that,” you jokingly assume, and he smiles despite having red bloodshot eyes, “We were angry, and we said and did things that we shouldn't had but that doesn’t mean we have to hold them over our own heads for the rest of our lives,” you grip his hand tighter, “you made a mistake, and I made one as well. And rather than explode on one another and ignore each other, we should’ve talked about where we went wrong, and yeah,” you repeat your words from months ago, “maybe we didn’t get to do this as early as we hoped, in fact we’re quite late,” you giggle, “but we’re here nonetheless. And so let’s talk,” you say, ready to listen to the boy you had fallen in love with.  

Jungkook stares at you in silence, a million thoughts racing through his mind, wondering how you always knew exactly what to say at the exact moment, “I,” he hesitates before continuing, “I need to start from the beginning,” he says, wiping any residue from the tears in his eyes, ready to open up the book he had kept closed for so long.

You nod to him, signalling that you were listening, “When I was a kid, I um,” he gulps, “I guess you could say I had a knack for boxing. Originally, my dad had taught me as a way to protect myself if I ever came across a situation that’d require me to defend myself,” his fingers begin to fidget within yours, a sign that he was nervous. Quick to soothe him, you rub small circles on the palms of his hands, his gaze occasionally avoiding eye contact.

“But I also think it was because my dad, who once wanted to be a boxer himself, saw me a way to vicariously live out his dream. Because soon he noticed that the knack I had for it was more of a talent,” a small smile appears on his lips, “and well by then he had begun to seriously train me… I remember always coming back after school and dulging right into practice, waking up on weekends and running laps at the park with my dad in order to gain stamina, and just,” he exhales a breath, “and just thinking to myself how proud I wanted to make him,” uncontrollably a tear falls from his face once again, and he tries to gain his composure before continuing, not wanting to begin the sob fest too early, “Once he thought I was ready, my dad had begun to sign me up for amatuer competitions, and well I did amazing,” Jungkook laughs.

“And soon boxing would become the sport I’d find myself building my life upon, but one day—“ he sighs, knowing the conclusion to his own story and well this was only the beginning, “one day during high school we had this um career day I guess you could call it, and well long story short after going around and listening to how passionate some of spokespersons were of their careers, I remember thinking, is boxing something I was doing for myself or for my father?”

A sad smile appears on his face, “I think the most confusing part for me was that I wasn't exactly passionate about anything else but I also just knew deep down in my heart that boxing wasn’t for me, you know? To this day I don’t know what exactly it is I'm passionate for,” he laughs, “and I certainly don’t see myself making coffee and flipping pancakes for the rest of my life,” he jokes around, an attempt the make the atmosphere a little lighter, “but I think with the help of someone I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay to be a bit of a late bloomer,” he winks at you, “one day I’ll wake up and just know…”

You give him a small reassuring smile, happy to know that he’s learned his own lessons along the way, even if it required a bit of pushing.

”But back to my story,” he awkwardly laughs, the small feign of happiness gone, “Though I had realized it already… maybe it was because I was scared, or maybe it was just—” he shakes his head, unable to find the words, “I just,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t tell my dad because for me telling my dad would feel as if I was telling him that all the years of hard work were going down the drain. That the endless nights of working out and exhausting ourselves to sleep were all for nothing. And so when my dad told me that managed to get me a spot at some training camp in the states, I took it. I mean it wasn’t like I had anything going for me here in Korea, and well I needed to guarantee my own future,” he shifts uncomfortably, remembering everything a little too vividly.

“I did pretty well for a couple years, slowly began climbing the ranks, and the natural talent I had for the sport was beginning to really shape itself, even catching the attention of prominent sport reporters. Long story short, I’d find myself surrounded with nothing but yes men and leeches who wanted nothing more than a piece of my so called success,” he gazes off to the distance, ashamed of the ego that had been built as a result of such people, “and well when you get told that you’re the best, that no one can stop you, that you’re untouchable, you truly begin to believe it,” he lets out a chuckle, “so when Brandon Star, a man who was nearly out of my weight class, began to provoke me for a fight on television after winning some match and I kept hearing from my so called friends that it’d be an easy match or that it was a guaranteed win, how could I say no? Of course at the time I didn’t know that they would be betting against me… so I said yes.”

A momentary silence fills the air as Jungkook had never told this whole story to anyone, the revealing of everything somewhat freeing for him, “A part of me knew I was way in over my head, it was like a gut feeling, you know? But I needed someone, anyone, to tell me the truth and to confirm what I was thinking. I needed someone who was going to criticize me instead of nodding their head yes and pretending that everything was going to be just fine. I think that’s why when I first met you, you reminded me so much of the people who were around me in the states, faking a smile in order to spare my feelings.” Sadness clouds his features, ashamed of how he took everything out on you when all you were doing was simply being the person you always were... kind. For that, he was truly sorry.

“Anyways,” he continues, “that night of the fight, the feeling I had in my stomach was overwhelming. I told my dad, who was helping prep me backstage like he always did, that I felt nervous. That I was scared,” his voice cracks and he closes his eyes, remembering the scene as if it was yesterday, “and my dad well...he’s always struggled with separating being a father and being a trainer,” Jungkook tries to contain the sob that’s begging to come out, “but at that moment I just needed my dad. I needed him to tell me that win or lose everything was going to be fine. That he’d be proud of me no matter what,” he finally cries, and as you’re about to pull him into another hug, he vigorously shakes his head, stopping you from doing so.

“No, I need to finish thi—”

“Jungkook,” you softly interrupt because it wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear anymore, you just weren’t sure if you could hear anymore without at some point sobbing yourself,  “you don’t need to, especially if you’re not ready,” you stare at him with a sad look on your face.

“No, you deserve to know,” he firmly states, “you deserve to know,” he quietly repeats to himself. You nod your head in understanding, waiting for him to continue as he wipes away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, composing himself.

“He told me that I’d do just fine, that the son he’s trained so long for wouldn’t fail him now,” he mumbles, the words of his father still echoing in his mind, “When you go and box, you’re supposed to enter that ring with no concerns of the real world, you’re supposed to put any negative or anxious thoughts you had outside the ring to rest. Because the moment you let just one of those thoughts seep through, you might as well hang up your gloves right then and there,” his expression hardens, “I went into that ring knowing I was going to lose…”

“From there I don’t remember too much,” he bitterly lets out a laugh, “I just remember being on a gurney and feeling the heaviness of Star’s punches beginning to weigh down on my chest, clearly having done some damage to my ribs,” he sighs, “but the moment I remember so clearly is my parents trying to make their way to me, doing their best to push their way in an effort to see me. I don’t know if it was because I was just so mad at myself,” his voice shakes, “or because I confused the look of sadness on my dad’s face with disappointment, but at the time—“ his voice falters again, “At the time I thought how ashamed he must’ve been of me,” he fights through his tears, trudging through the story, “And so as I was being lifted into the truck, I kept yelling how this was his fault, that it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be in this position,” Jungkook lifts his head up, combing a hand through his hair.

“When I got to the hospital, I refused to let my parents see me, I was just too—“ God, did he sometimes wish he could go back in time and change everything, “I was too stubborn, too ashamed with myself to even look at them. So I ran,” he says, catching you by surprise, “I needed time alone so I ran,” he repeats, “I ran before they could find me, I just got up and ran,” there’s a haunting emptiness that lingers in his voice, one that brings chills down your spine.

“I called Hobi, and I told him that I needed to redeem a favor,” your mind flashes back to the night Hobi told you what he knew, “And I thought this is what I needed. That I’d be okay with starting anew, and that if I could firmly plant my feet in Seoul then I could visit my parents in Busan, and tell them how sorry I was without them having to worry too much about what the future would hold for me… and explain to them what happened, what I felt, and why I ran. That was my plan,” his voice cracks, “I was reaching a point in my life where I felt so content, so happy. I’d wake up to see you and Hobi making breakfast while imitating some random girl group dance and think to myself how things had managed to turn out so well for me despite my failure in the states. Or when we binged on One Piece episodes that whole night while stuffing our faces in tubed ice cream and I just felt like a little kid again without a worry in the world. But then …”  

Jungkook feels the heavy feeling in his chest grow, “He passed away,” and just like that Jungkook feels as if the air has come out of his lungs, the same way it did the night he found out.

You feel your heart break at his words, recognition dawning over your face as everything was beginning to make sense. “My mom had managed to find my number in order to tell me there’d been an accident, and I just couldn’t believe it at first,” he attempts to hide his grief by stifling a sob, “I didn’t want to get up from bed at first because getting up would mean facing reality, it’d mean accepting that it wasn’t some kind of twisted fucked up nightmare but that it was real. That the last sight my dad saw of me was on some gurney,” his face twists, “that the last words I ever said to him were so—“ he breaks down, sobbing once again and this time you feel your own hot salty tears fall from your eyes, wrapping in such a tight hug that you weren’t sure if it was for his or your own sake.

He cries a sound so raw that it was almost as if the wound was still freshly cut, his hand clasping tightly onto your clothing for support. Any last defensive wall he had up was washed away by his salty tears, finally facing the final waves of grief, loss, and devastation in the arms of the person he had taken everything out on. The person he didn’t deserve at all, but had stayed nonetheless. You whisper sweet comforting words to his ear, wanting more than his grief to subside so that you could see the smile you loved so much appear on his face again.

“I just wish there was something I could’ve done differently,” he shakes his head, “so that he could know just how much his son loved and appreciated him,” he lifts his head up from your shoulder, wiping his tears away, and practicing his breathing as his chest had been heaving so bad because of his sobs, “And so that was why I completely changed that June and became cold. That was why I got so mad when I saw you in my room with the broken trophy I had gotten when I was a kid because I was just so reminded of everything,” he frowns, “and it had hit me like a freaking truck. To see my current world and the past one collide was just—“ he pauses, “overwhelming to say the least,” he concludes everything and you’re left there completely speechless.

You could’ve never in your wildest dreams even guessed that this was why Jungkook had come back to Seoul and why he had acted so cold for so long. His grievances had happened in such a short period of time, that all it took was one wrong move to set him completely off. No wonder he had kept himself so isolated … he knew he was ticking time bomb waiting to finally explode at any given moment.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, his words processing in both of your minds. You want to say the words that are currently repeating themselves in your mind, I love you. Three simple words that could make him forget his past, even if it was for a small moment in time. “Jungkook—” he looks up at you, “I—” you stutter, the words clinging onto the tip of your tongue, “I um,” you feel your chest become heavy as he stares at you in curiosity, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you force out instead. He furrows his eyebrows, ready to protest against your apology, but you’re quick to interrupt before he gets the chance to.

“Since you’re being so honest with me, I feel like it’s only right I’m honest with you,” you bite your lip, disappointed with your cowardice, “So that like that we get a better understanding of one another,” you feign a smile.

“There’s a reason why I got so um…” you pause, “anxious before and during the galleria,” you narrow your eyes, it was now your turn to open a book that’d long been left incomplete. “I told you right? That I was an art student at Busan’s Art college but that I ended up transferring after an incident occurred…” He quietly nods, allowing you to continue, “and well I think I’m ready to talk about it,” you let out a breathy chuckle.

He stares at you in silence, ready to listen as well. “Growing up, I really liked painting,” you laugh, recalling the memory of you painting on the walls as a kid, “for some reason it was something I found myself falling further in love with every calendar year, but my parents, well they were on the more skeptical side of making a career out of it. I mean I don’t really blame them,” you sound unsure, “I mean I know that it’s hard these days to find success in the world of arts, or at least the level of success most people want to obtain but originally for me it didn’t matter,” you chuckle, remembering how naive you had been.

“Before entering college, I’d sell my little paintings and merchandise on those small-business centric websites like Etsy and stuff,” you say for example, “and you’re right, when you get told that you’re good at something, you really begin to believe it…”

Jungkook wants to interrupt and tell you that whatever your situation was, was much more different than his. That you were actually good at what you did, no, you were amazing at it. He wasn’t sure if he could listen to you talk down on yourself, but nonetheless he continues to listen.

“My first year of college I met people like Jimin who were so passionate about what they do that it really cemented the idea I had in wanting to turn my water painting into a career,” you sigh, “but in the back of my mind I always did have tiny doubts that lingered, and I always made sure not to feed them too much, but when you’re surrounded by people who are just as talented or even better than you, it gets hard not to.”

Jungkook completely understands where you’re coming from, having been in a similar position himself before. “And it didn’t help that my parents were constantly breathing down my neck about finding a different career to focus on,” you shrug “anyways,” you continue, shaking your head, “In Busan’s Art College, like many other colleges there are departments, like STEM and Business for example, but in this case things are separated by like dance, art, film, et cetera. And well if you can’t tell I’m a bit of a … pushy … person,” you laugh and Jungkook softly smiles, neither agreeing or disagreeing, “I think it’s due to me always feeling a need to overcompensate my insecurities, I guess. Like when you first moved in, in order to reassure myself that you didn’t hate me, the pushy side of me came out,” you explain, and the same way you began to understand Jungkook as he was explaining his story, Jungkook was beginning to understand you as a person.

“Well back to the focal point, I was a part of a committee club for painters within the art department, thinking that if I took charge of something, it’d increase my chances in succeeding in my career once I graduated. But the thing is, is when you join those committees I guess you could say there’s like a hierarchy of some sort, a cliché come to life,” you try your best to keep the conversation as lighthearted as you can, wanting the energy in the air to become one that was positive, a reflection of just how much you two had grown, “and well during my second year we were all assigned a project for some city poster in which we’d present to the committee’s leader, Nari, and where she and a couple of others would then choose which one was going to be used. And let me tell you, this was a career making project. The people who were going to be at the unveiling were names like Ji Hye Yeom, Haegue Yang, and more,” you sigh knowing you were coming to the rough part of the story.

“Nari had specifically told us that we were to only use materials she had chosen for us, and limited us to certain color schemes that in my opinion were the ugliest schemes I’d ever seen,” you scoff, “So me being the pushy person I am, I went ahead and continued with my original plan, which was making a watercolor painting because at the end of the day if my painting did happen to get chosen, I wanted it to be a genuine work of mine, not something that was limited by someone who was no more superior than me all because of some flimsy title,” you softly shake your head, “And so I poured my heart into it, working on it every chance I got during that school year in order to make sure that the committee would be so amazed , they’d have no choice but to choose it even if it didn’t exactly follow Nari’s regulations.”

A feigned smile graces onto your lips, refusing to cry at a situation from years ago, “I was so nervous that day to present it, but I was also so excited. Excited because I knew I created a piece that was so beautiful I—,” for a quick second your voice falters, but you’re quick to catch yourself, “I was just so sure they’d choose it,” you whisper, voice sounding frail and defeated.

“That day I presented it, I thought the silence that filled the room was because they were amazed,” you close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to push back any tears that wanted to make their way out, “God I still remember the extra specks of white and gold I added to it the night before, thinking those extra touches were really going to tip the scale in my favor,” you mumble, the embarrassment you felt that day coming back.

Jungkook feels his jaw harden, at this point an automatic response to the thought of your feelings being hurt. He didn’t know why, but to see someone as kind as you act out of character whether it be because you were mad or sad, always caused a heavy feeling in his chest. The only thing you deserved to feel was happiness and comfort, and though he wasn’t sure it was something, he, himself, could guarantee you … he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

“After what felt like 20 minutes, of complete silence she slowly got up in front of everyone,” you blankly stare at the trees in front of you, “I remember my heart beating out of my freaking chest for some reason, and the sweat beginning to form at my palms. And the moment she started speaking, I just went blank—” you turn to face Jungkook, who had a worrisome look on his face, “She started to berate me in front of everyone, insulting my hard work and telling me that even despite me breaking her guidelines, the painting still wasn’t any good,” you gulp, “But in fact, her words didn’t bother me at all,” you pause, “it was the comments from my supposed peers that really twisted the knife for me,” you scoff, “and then she did the unthinkable...”

Jungkook feels the heavy weight in his chest drop because he knows what you’re about to say. He knows what that woman did. And he knows why you were so hurt when he destroyed your painting, “She grabbed the canvas from the display board, and she ripped it,” you say, managing to muster up the smallest of smiles, but Jungkook knows that it's nothing more than a facade. An illusion so that he could think that you were no longer hurt by the actions of that woman.

“Once she did that, it just triggered everything else that followed after,” you furrow your brows, refusing to look at Jungkook, “I was being laughed at while having a panic attack,” you scoff, “I felt like I was in a scene from a high school movie,” you attempt to mask your hurt by making a joke.

“I ended up running out of the building, feeling as if my heart was going to explode from how fast it was pounding, and the compression in my throat was almost unbearable,” your voice cracks, “in just 20 minutes she took away any confidence I had in my artistic abilities, In just 20 minutes she made me question everything I knew about myself,” a tear finally falls from your eye, speaking the words you’d never said out loud before into the world.

“I attempted to stay at the school for a couple more weeks after that, but every time I picked up a paint brush, I just kept hearing her words along with the rest of my peers’ as well, second guessing every stroke I made on canvas. I had lost my spark,” you stifle a sob, “After that, I decided to transfer out and follow the plans’ my parents had always set out for me… and well, you know the rest,” you laugh in between your tears, wondering just how pitiful you must’ve looked. But soon enough you feel Jungkook's arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug so tight, you never wanted him to let go.

“Don’t leave,” you mumble into his chest.

Jungkook reassures you by cooing a small, “I won’t”, but gently you pull away once he does, holding onto his hand instead. A look of confusion washes over his face.

“No—” you shake your head, realizing he’s misunderstood, “I mean don’t leave our apartment,” you sniffle, giving him a small warm smile, leftover tears still brimming the corners of your eyes. His mouth gapes slightly open, taken back by your statement. He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be moving out by Monday.

“We—” you shake your head, deciding that “we” wasn’t the right word in this case, “I need you,” you state, nothing but sincerity behind your words. Jungkook feels his heart skip a beat, the close-eyed soft smile that covers your face only making him smile in return.

He doesn’t need to say anything because you know … you know that he needs you just as much as you need him. You know that he’ll never leave your side from this day on because tonight was the start of a new chapter in your lives, one that included each other. Gently he pulls you into another hug, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest being a feeling he could get used to.

“How did you even know where the venue was, or what the time the whole thing was?” you ask Jungkook, questions that hadn’t crossed your mind that day now forming.

“Hobi sent me a text that same night, very um … straightforward?” Jungkook chuckles, “It read, Art Exhibition. **** Namgang-Ro. 7:30 PM. Formal attire. You either go or you don’t. Up to you. Just don’t go crying later on that you regret not going. And well I had debated for several hours, originally chickening out and deciding to use me not having any formal suits as an excuse. That was until I walked into my room to find that Hobi had ironed one of his own for me to use,” Jungkook explains, “And well luckily I grew some balls and went and well now we’re here,” he smiles at you.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cut off too much of the story. We still have to remember all the good that came afterward,” you giggle, and he only flashes you an even bigger smile.

“Ah you’re right, you’re right. How could I forget?”

October 2019. 

“Happy Halloween!” you and Jungkook wave to the kid dressed as Iron Man, glancing at the clock which currently read 10:00PM. Mm you’d give it one more hour before permanently closing your doors and calling it a day even if Jungkook protested for more time.

“Happy Halloween!” you and Jungkook wave to the kid dressed as Iron Man, glancing at the clock which currently read 10:00PM. Mm you’d give it one more hour before permanently closing your doors and calling it a day even if Jungkook protested for more time.

You see, tonight was Halloween, and for the first time since you and Hobi moved to your guys’  apartment, you were giving out candy to the little kids of your apartment complex who usually went floor to floor trick or treating and it was all thanks to Jungkook. You were surprised really, you would’ve never taken Jungkook as being someone who was such a kid at heart.

After weeks of begging, he’d finally managed to convince you and Hobi to not only dress, but distribute candy. Usually you and Hobi would turn off all the lights and ignore the knocks you’d receive on the door, choosing to have a movie night than to participate in Halloween festivities.

Realistically speaking, you sorta expected Jungkook to go out and party tonight which is why when he notified you weeks prior that all of you were going to be participating in giving out candy, you couldn’t find it in you to say no. Hobi on the other hand required a lot of convincing and though he wasn’t exactly helping with the distribution of candy, watching him dressed as Batman while lazily sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand was a gift in its own.

Jungkook, who desperately wanted to be a male version of Harley Quinn, had made you help him with cinching his crop top, exposing his toned lower abdomen every time he even stretched the slightest bit. It was…. quite a site … even causing several moms with their kids to “accidentally” stumble on your apartment floor again after only being there 10 minutes prior, your own little green monster finally making its appearance ….

But besides that, your favorite part of his whole costume was definitely the face/eye makeup he had done. The smoky blue and red along with the fake tatted heart under his left eye truly acting as the selling point of his costume. It just made him look very hot, more than usual. Hobi had even caught you staring at the boy on several occasions, teasingly nudging you whenever he did.

With Hobi dressed as Batman and Jungkook dressed as Harley Quinn, that of course only left you, who was currently dressed as none other than a female version of the Joker from Suicide Squad because despite how shitty the movie was, the style in which they made the Joker was still indeed very cool. Jungkook had even lent you his own natural artistic abilities to draw the tattoos where your dominant hand couldn’t firmly paint, laughing at the “twinsies” jokes you made in reference to his own tattoos. It had even given you the opportunity to ask him what each one of his own real tattoos meant to him.

Most of his tattoos, he explained, were done out of impulse. A majority of them being done in the states on a complete whim, but a couple of them held significant meaning to him. For example, his tattoo of a bandaged hand clearly represented his history with boxing. He explained that rather than get the overused boxing gloves as a tattoo, he’d get a simple bandaged hand done, deciding that it looked cooler and that you agreed with. Another example was the tattoo that translated to “Life Goes On” which was pretty self-explanatory, but meaningful nonetheless. Jungkook explained that it was one his favorite mottos growing up, and well recently it seemed to weave perfectly into his life.

But your favorite tattoo? The small One Piece manga strip he had across his left forearm. The story behind it almost caused you to shed a tear, had it not been for your white powdered makeup, you probably would've cried. You see, when Jungkook was a young boy he’d always watch One Piece as a distraction from boxing, falling in love with the story and its characters.

His dad, who’d always scold him whenever he caught him late at night watching the anime, never understood why Jungkook liked the show so much. It wasn’t until one night he somehow managed to convince his dad to watch the episode he was on, and despite not knowing anything about what was going on nor the characters’ names, his dad ended up loving the show just as much as him. The show had acted as a new bond between the two, from buying the latest manga volumes to staying up late at night to watch the newest episode. And well the strip on Jungkook’s arm was from the exact episode he had managed to convince his dad to watch with him that night. The tattoo serves as a representation of a memory he holds dearest to him, a memory of his dad.

“Ah I think that’s the last of it,” Jungkook looks into the last bag of candy he had bought, absolutely nothing left inside, “Wasn’t this fu—”

“Let’s go get a tattoo,” you interrupt, the idea coming to you out of nowhere. Jungkook tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. A tattoo? You? Ms. I do not even have a dot of ink on my skin?

“A tattoo!?” Hobi turns from the TV, now having got his attention.

Both men stare at you in silence, thinking this was all some big joke until you begin to nod, reaffirming your choice, “Yes! All three of us! Matching roommate tattoos,” you smile, not exactly sure what had gotten into you, but surprisingly... completely okay with it.

Jungkook, noticing just how serious you were about this, begins to feel a smile form on his face. It wasn’t like he minded, he just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to regret it the next morning, “Y/N, you sure you one? I mean … you’re not someone I picture getting a tattoo, I mean think of your job,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, think of your job!” Hobi butts in, clearly not in favor of getting a tattoo.

Vigorously, you nod your head, “I’m one hundred percent sure,” you laugh, “I promise you, I won’t regret it,” you stick out your pinky finger, and Jungkook is quick to hug it with his own.

“W-What the?” Hobi stutters, unsure if it was the alcohol or shock in his system causing it. Probably both.

You turn to Hobi, “If you really don’t want it, then you don’t have to get it,” you shrug, “But at least come with us,” you smile, hoping that once you were there at the parlor shop you’d be able to convince him.

Sitting on the leather stool with your forearm displayed, the tattooist begins to prep your skin placing rubbing alcohol on the area in which you had chosen to get your tattoo. Now that you are here, you couldn’t lie, you were a bit nervous. But mostly because you were skeptical of the pain the needle would give you. 

Jungkook had described it as “a cat repeatedly scratching a sunburn”... as if you were supposed to know what that means. He also said that depending on your pain tolerance you’d either like the feeling, get used to it, or absolutely hate it. It just varied from person to person as well as the placement where you were choosing to get it.

Supposedly the inner wrist didn’t hurt, but with the sudden stinging sensation you were feeling, you were a bit unsure of that now.

“So is that your boyfriend out there?” the woman tattooing you suddenly asks, catching you completely by surprise. If she didn’t have a pricking needle against your skin , you probably would’ve jumped at the accusation.

Trying your best to keep your cool, you respond, “Oh um—” you shake your head, “No,” you awkwardly laugh, “I wish”, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” she hums, the same smirk Jimin once gave you appearing on her face, “Sorta seemed like it out there, I mean I’m sure if he had the option he would’ve chosen to sit here right next to you and hold your hand,” she teases, and a blush appears on your cheeks.

“Oh that’s just how he is with everyone,” you reason, not wanting to feed into the delusions that Jungkook could possibly return any feelings for you, “He’s a very protective person, sometimes a little too much, but it has its benefits,” you joke around.

She shrugs, continuing to work on the small tattoo, “”Mm I don’t know, I mean the way with the way he looks at youuuu,” she sings, “because you clearly like him,” she laughs.

“No I don’t!” you pout, “We’re just close friends, that’s all….”

“Close friends don’t look at each other like that, and they’re certainly not as touchy as you two are,” she says, only causing you to scoff.

“You don’t know what you’re ta—”

“All done!” she smiles, wiping over the fresh new ink on your skin one last time, “Look how easy it was for me to get you to stop wincing so much,” she winks at you, and suddenly everything begins to make sense. She was trying to get you to relax. Was the topic she chose really the best one? No. But it worked didn’t it?

She places the plastic wrap over it, “So what do you think?” you stare at the new permanent piece of work on your skin, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Ah I—”

“Love it so much!” you flash Jungkook the two-month old ink on your skin, the digital numbers “00:00” acting as a permanent reminder of the day all three of you officially became roommates. It was small, yes, but to you it meant so much.

Jungkook pulls his own sleeve, showing you his own matching ink, “Zero o’ clock,” he hums, recalling a song he heard not too long ago on the radio.

“Ah too bad we couldn’t convince Hobi to get one,” you sigh, remembering how firm he was that night, “but we’ll get him next time,” you laugh.

Jungkook quirks his brow, “Next time?”

You nod your head, “I can see why people get addicted to these things,” you joke, “they’re like their own pieces of art,” you smile.

“Design mine next time,” he suddenly says, his statement coming off more as a command than a question. Turning to face him, you look for any small sign that he was joking.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I think a watercolor style painting would look amazing rightttt,” he points to the side of his ribcage, “here.”

Eyes widening in shock, you’re in complete disbelief, “You—you’re crazy!” you laugh, refusing to take him seriously.

“Ah I’m being serious Y/N,” he pouts, “Come on you know you want toooo,” he sings, softly nudging you.

You stare at him for a moment, “Are you sure?” you ask, skeptical about his seriousness.

He nods, “As sure as you were about getting that tattoo that night,” he teases, and you only roll your eyes in return.

“Mmm,” you hum, “I’ll think about it.”

“Think?! I’m your roommate!” he dramatically complains, throwing his head against your shoulder, suddenly in a clingy mood. Maybe the tattooist was right… maybe you two were a little too touchy….

You mean, just last month during friendsgiving, Hobi just had to complain in front of everyone claiming, “If you two don’t get your own room—”

“Then I think at some point this turkey is going to come back alive just to tell you two himself,” he slurs his words, wine glass in hand.

Drunk Yoongi tags in, “How do you know it’s a he?” he squints his eyes, gearing up for a debate.

Hobi rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive motion with his hand, “Not now Yoongi,” he says, causing everyone sitting at the table to laugh, and he turns his attention back to you and Jungkook, currently sitting next to each other, “Are you two going to continue playing footsies or are you finally going to—”

Seokjin interrupts by awkwardly coughing and tapping his champagne glass with his fork, getting up from his seat in the process, “I think it’s the perfect time to do our annual “What am I thankful for” toast, so I’ll begin,” he laughs, all eyes on him, “So um this year I am thankful for all of my friends who continuously stick by side throughout the years, and for the wonderful woman I’ve grown to love more and more every day,” he warmly smiles at his girlfriend, the two already seeming like a married couple despite having only met this year. Seokjin turns his attention to Yoongi, signalling that it was his turn.

He groans before getting up, peeved as to why Seokjin always insisted on doing these things, “Okay okay—”

“This is gonna take a while,” you whisper to Jungkook, Yoongi’s speech now fading into the background.

Jungkook quietly chuckles in response, “You think? How long do you think it’ll take before he starts with his  “back in my day” speech?” he jokes around.

Suddenly Yoongi’s voice becomes more audible, “Back in my day we didn’t use—”

You and Jungkook snortle a laugh, “Not long,” you respond, the two of you trying your best to keep your snickering at a low.

“So … got anything prepared?” he asks, this being his first year and all doing this kind of thing, he was a bit nervous as to what to say.

You shake your head, “Mm no, you just sorta say what’s on your mind? I guess?” you awkwardly laugh, “Trust me, as long as they have their bottles of soju next to them, whatever you say will go in one ear and out the other,” you reassure, remembering the first year you did this and gave a heartwarming speech, just for it to be ignored because Namjoon could’ve sworn he’d seen the “turkey move”. From there it led to an hour debate on whether a dead freaking turkey could still possibly be alive after having it in the oven for several hours.

He nods his head, noting what you’ve said.

After going around it was now the last toast of the night,“Ah and lastly onto our newest member in this friend group,” Namjoon, who had just finished his own speech, turns to Jungkook and pats his shoulder, “take it away,” he gives him a dimpled smile before sitting back in his seat.  

Jungkook awkwardly blinks at him for a moment, not getting up until you nudge him to do so. “Oh yeah…” he forces a laugh, “Um so where do I begin,” you almost feel second hand embarrassment, if you thought you weren’t any good under pressure, Jungkook might take the crown.

“So… The first thing I want to say I’m thankful for are the new friends I’ve made since coming to Seoul,” he spares a glance to the boys, “um..” he bites his lip, “The second thing or person may I say, that I want to thank is Hobi…” he smiles at the drunk man, “well for giving me a second chance per say,” he chuckles, “I know I don’t say it often, but I’m truly grateful for you picking up my call that night,” Hobi gives a small warm smile, “And well the last person I want really want to mention that I’m thankful for is … you,” Jungkook suddenly turns his attention down to you, catching you by surprise.

Raising your eyebrows, you wonder where this is coming from, “I um—” he feighs a small laugh, “I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest person when I first moved in, but—” he exhales a breath, “But you gave continuously gave me a chance to prove otherwise every single time until I finally got it right,” he smiles, “and well last year I had a pretty rough year,” he jokes around, “and honestly I thought coming in 2019 it’d be just bad, but you single handedly proved me wrong and made sure this was going to be a year for me to remember and well for that I’m forever grateful,” you silently blink away any tears, not wanting to get teased at for crying after this his speech was done. He breaks away the gaze he held on you in order to finish his speech off, “So with that I say … cheers everyone!”

Everyone raises their glasses of whatever it was they chose to drink, clinking it all in the middle and repeating “Cheers!” before gulping down whatever was left of their drinks. The rest of the night is filled with nothing but laughs and joy, as well as the remainder of the month, every single day creating a new memory for the three of you, until you were left with nothing but...

“The present day,” you whisper to yourself, unable to believe that the year had gone by so fast.

“What a year it’s been huh…” Jungkook softly smiles, glancing at the time on his phone which reads 11:50. 10 more minutes until the new year. 10 more minutes until zero’o clock.

“Yeah…” a comfortable silence fills the air around you, how had the hour gone by in the blink of an eye? You wonder if it’s the effect Jungkook just naturally has on people because never did you find time going by so fast unless you were with him.

“I—”

“So—”

Your cheeks become a tinge of pink , “Oh you go first—” he shakes his head.

“No, no, go ahead,” he laughs, insisting that you go instead.

This was the perfect chance, the chance to tell him about the feelings you’d grown to have for him in the past year. You just needed to grow the courage to say those three letter words that were itching to be said. It was either now or never.  

“I um, I just wanted to say thank you,” you chicken out once again, “I didn’t get the chance to say it on friendsgiving, but,” you gulp, “your speech it um meant a lot to me, and well I’m just as grateful for you,” you chuckle, “I think maybe even more.”

Had you noticed, you would’ve seen the slightly disappointed look on Jungkook’s face, “Oh..” he says, a small pout appearing on his face.

“What were you going to say?” you ask, faking the pep in your voice, ready to eternally scold yourself for being a chicken once you got back to the cabin.

He sighs, “It’s nothing really,” he shrugs, but you nudge his shoulder before he could divert the conversation elsewhere.

“Come on, just say it,” you tease, “because you either speak now or forever hold your piece,” you look at the time, “5 minutes till midnight.”

He stays silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should say what had been on his mind for quite some time, “I um—” fuck it, it was either now or never, “You know how I told you that I couldn’t sleep right? That it’s why I came out here…” you innocently nod your head as he continues, “well it’s cause I had already sorta been thinking about everything that’s happened this year…” he lets out a small chuckle.

“I mean isn’t it crazy?” he pushes his hair back with his hand, “Someone who was nothing more than a stranger before the clock hit twelve that night is now someone I can’t picture not being in my life,” you feel your heart flutter at his words, “And I mean to think we didn’t get along at first,” he lets out a breath of disbelief, “All because I was a person who was—” he pauses, unsure of how to describe himself from that time, “angry,” he decides to say, “I was an angry person who mad at the world,” he bites his lip in retribution for his attitude back then.

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head, “you were just someone who was… hurt. That’s all it was,” you say.

“You think?” you nod your head yes, “I never really thought about it like that,” he mumbles, “Would you do it all over again?” he suddenly asks, and you find yourself quirking your brow at his question, “Like if you had the chance would you do it all over again…” he further explains.

Without a second thought you say, “Yeah I would,” you giggle, “And you?”

He remains silent for a moment, pondering on his own question before nodding his head as well, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again because then I’d get to relive the process of falling in love with you all over again,” he finally says, “I’d get to pinpoint the exact moment this year that I fell in love with you.”

“In ten, nine, eight…” the families around you begin to shout the countdown, and all you can do is stare at Jungkook in disbelief of what you just heard come out of his mouth.

“Y-You love me?” you manage to stutter out, a smile now forming on your lips.

“Seven, six, five…..”

Silently, he nods his head, a loving smile on his face as he leans towards you, the flutter in your stomach only intensifying.

“Four, three, two, one….”

And as if time had stopped, his lips finally meet yours and the only thing you could feel were the placement of warm lips against yours, giving you a New Year’s kiss that would be remembered for years to come.

“Happy New Year!” the sound of fireworks popping are echoed in the background because the only thing you could focus on were the soft lips that were moving with yours. His fingers curl around yours, creating such an intimacy that you were sure you had to be dreaming. It wasn’t until you found yourself kissing him back that the reality of everything finally set in. Jungkook loved you.

Slowly he pulls away, savoring the kiss till its very last moment, “Happy New Years Y/N,” he whispers, a grin plastered on his face.

Laughing in return, you smile, “Happy New Years Jungkook.”

**

Once you and Jungkook returned to the cabin, you were met with several complaints from Hobi, “Finally! We’ve been freezing all night!” Hobi exclaimed the moment you two walked in, harshly grabbing the firewood from Jungkook’s hands. It wasn’t until he peeped your linked arms that everything began to make sense, “Ahhh,” he gives you two a toothy grin, “You guys, look who’ve finally confessed to one another,” he yells, catching the attention of everyone in the living room.

Suddenly the room is filled with several “finally’s” causing both of your mouths to slightly agape open. “What do you mean “finally” ?” you furrow your eyebrows, looking at Hobi for an explanation.

He scoffs, “Don’t act dense you two!” he laughs, “It was so obvious you two liked one another, you two were just too blind to see it yourselves,” he scolds both you and Jungkook by flicking your foreheads, “You just didn’t have to go confessing while all of us were freezing in here!”

Both you and Jungkook awkwardly laugh, a guilty look on one another’s face. “Well choo you two before I make you two clean everything up and babysit our friends!” Hobi makes a motion with his hands, and the two of you are quick to make your way upstairs into Jungkook’s room. Thankful that he didn’t punish the two of you.

Jungkook is quick to take off his puffy jacket, plopping himself onto the bed like a little kid, a loud breathy sigh following after. You stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to do, that is until you see him open his arms wide with a pout appearing on his face, “Come onnn,” he sings, “Let’s cuddle,” he shoots you a smile.

Playfully you roll your eyes before taking off your own jacket, plopping onto the spot next to him. Small feverish giggles escape your lips once he begins to give you tiny kisses all over, enveloping you in a hug so tight, it would’ve been impossible to ever doubt his feelings for you.

“Jungkook stop,” you laugh, the tickles he was now giving you making the sides of your stomach hurt, “Jung—” you attempt to push his hand away, face becoming red at just how much you were laughing, his own high-pitched laugh echoing across the walls of the room with you. From there he does a mixture of both tickling and kissing you, the two of you truly in your own world.

Soon though, your little game of tickles becomes a full on makeout session, not that you were complaining. Currently you lay under him with Jungkook leaning against you, using his arm that rested on the bed as support.

Slowly he slips his tongue into your mouth, gentle but demanding, nothing less than pure love behind the kiss. “Jungkooook,” you quietly whine once he begins to move onto your neck, every suckle lasting a little longer than the last. His hand interlocks with yours as he continues, you’re hand subconsciously playing with his hair from behind, making small twirls with the brown wavy locks of hair.

“I love youuu,” he cooes, a certain gleam to his eyes. Soon enough, his fingers were teasingly playing with the waistband of your leggings. And God, were you dripping. “Can I?” he innocently looks at you, licking his lips in the process. You’d be crazy to say no.

Nodding your head yes, he nudges your legs apart and begins to pull off the cotton fabric from your legs. You help him along the way, desperate to receive your own pleasure.

Teasingly, he swipes his index finger over the fabric of your underwear, continuing to pepper you with warm kisses on the underside of your jaw. The grip you had on his hair became tighter with every swipe, “Aren’t you wet?” he slyly chuckles, rubbing small circles with his placed finger.

“Stop teasing,” you whine, only causing him to muffle a laugh against your shoulder.

“I just wanna take my timeeeee,” he hums, placing a kiss to your cheek, “Can I take my time?” he pouts, only causing you to roll your eyes, agreeing nonetheless, “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pecking you on the lips before continuing, cupping your cheek with his … unoccupied … hand.

“God you’re beautiful,” he says staring at your pleasured expression, a result of the friction between his finger and your underwear becoming more intense.

“Jungkook,” your voice shakes, wanting needing him to do something before the muscles in your leg spasm any more.

“Shh shh not too loud,” he softly mumbles, because considering how drunk the boys’ were, any loud noise and you’d have someone idiotically stumbling into the room in order to find out whatever the noise was. Not wanting you to complain any more, he slips his finger under your underwear, pressing both his middle and index finger to the centerfold of your sex, “Look how wet you are,” he smirks, coaxing another moan from your lips.

Jungkook couldn’t lie, he’d envisioned this moment a couple of times before, but to have it becoming a reality was completely different than what he imagined. It was indeed better.

“I bet you’d love for me to take these off,” he teasingly pretends to pull down your panties, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Please Jungkook,” you cry, how was it possible to already be on the verge of releasing when he hadn’t even done anything explicit yet? He begins to move his fingers up and down your clit, coating his fingers with your wetness, preparing to insert his fingers in your aching hole, “Please—” you attempt to whimper his name again, but his lips passionately kiss you before you get the chance to. It’s once he does that, that the energy in the room shifts, becoming one of playful teasingness to one of passion and love. It’s while he kisses you that he finally sinks his single finger into your pussy, your wetness helping him in gradually picking up the pace until soon enough he’s able to slip in another. Your moan being suppressed by the pressing of his lips against yours, softly nibbling on your lower lip.  

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, the squelching sounds coming from your pussy bringing him a sense of pleasure, “Can’t wait to make love to you,” he whispers watching as your eyes lazily roll back, the sight being one he’d remember for a very long time.

“J—Just like that Jungkook,” you manage to stutter out, your arousal dripping in and out of your pussy as he continues with his motions. By now you feel his hardened member kneading against panties, his self-restraint holding on by a string. God, did he wanna fuck your brains out already. Had you been some kind of one night stand and he probably would already be doing so, but you, well you were different. You were his. And he was going to make sure you knew it to.

With his other hand he begins to slide his way under your shirt, caressing your breasts while fingering you, “Take off the shirt,” he mumbles while planting kisses on your neck, and you’re quick to obey, pulling the shirt over your head and uncaringly throwing it onto the floor.

By now you were dressed in only your underwear and bra, which to you seemed a bit unfair and so purposely you begin to play with the hem of his shirt, in hopes that he’d get the message. When he doesn’t, you momentarily stop him from kissing you any further, mumbling a tiny, “Mm take off your shirt,” causing him to let out a breathy laugh. He does as told, exposing the toned torso you’d find yourself frequently gawking over for in the past year. Because truly, his body proportions were insane.

Gently pulling him from his hair, you deepen the kiss by running your other hand across his bare back, the warm skin to skin touch providing another level of intimacy. “Let me eat you out,” he murmurs against your lips, waiting for a simple three letter word so that he can finally pull off your panties.

Instead you give him a small “MmHm,” with a small nod which in this case would suffice as he was sure you were too lost in your own world of pleasure to properly respond. Delicately he removes your underwear, parting your legs in between before lowering his head.

Without saying a word, he runs his finger against your slit, licking and sucking on the fluid that dripped from his finger. What. A. Fucking. Tease. “Jungkooook,” you whine like a brat, the heat you felt below almost unbearable at this point.

“What a pretty pussy,” he rasps, gives your clit a gentle kiss before suckling against it, his saliva mixing with your fluids. Immediately you feel a wave of pure bliss, your fingers slightly trembling at just how good the sudden sensation felt.

“Oh God Jungkook,” you needily whisper once he slips his finger back inside, pushing it deep into your core all while eating you out. Your breathy moans along with the sound of your wet pussy being toyed around with, fill the room. With your eyes half-open, you manage to look down at the sight of Jungkook licking through your folds, his messy hair covering most of his face until you use your hand to push it back, wanting to savor the view in front of you.

“Just look at you,” he groans, admiring the view of your back arched along with your thighs which slightly quivered at the flicks of his tongue, “All fucking mine, you got that?” he asks.

When you don’t respond, he inserts a second finger, catching your attention.

“Yes!” you cry at the sudden jolt of pleasure, his fingers scissoring inside of you, “I’m all yours,” you answer and to that he smirks, curling his fingers inside you. His ego at a level unthinkable. From there he continues to suck and slurp any remnants of your wetness, ignoring your warnings that you were about to orgasm.

It isn’t until he feels a quick rougher than usual tug to the hair followed with a gentle release that he knows you’ve came. Only then does he stop, quickly making his way to sweetly kiss you as you ride through your orgasm. You barely manage to kiss him back, too overwhelmed by orgasm he just brought down on you.

He cups your face once again, making out with you once again even if you were lazily kissing him back, “Jungkook,” you croak out, “Make love to me,” you dazedly whisper, recalling his words from earlier, and without a single word he begins to kiss you again, this time even more passionately (if that was possible) your words triggering a certain fire within him. And despite being in a post-orgasm state, you kiss him with just as much passion as he is doing to you.

By now the two of your hands’ were entangled with each others’ hair, Jungkook roughly pressing his clothed erection against the barity of your pussy. Releasing one of his hands from his hair, he smoothly travels down your back, removing the clasp of your bra with his hand. Deciding not to question his skills, you help further remove it until you’re only left completely nude. Your tits now on full display for him.  

He soon begins to tenderly suck on your hardened nipples, one hand caressing the opposing tit whenever he was sucking on one, providing equal attention to both. You begin to play with the button of his black pants, desperately ready to have Jungkook completely inside you. Jungkook notices your lack of patience, deciding that just this time he’d give you what you want.

Pushing himself off you, he begins to unbutton his pants, your heart now beating out of excitement once you see the band of his black boxers. This was really happening. And though you’d seen Jungkook’s cock before, specifically with a woman having it wrapped inside her mouth, to see it this time around was definitely much more shocking than the first…. Was he always this big? The veins that run along his fair-colored cock only add to it’s intimidating appearance.

Pushing himself back on you, he sloppily kisses you all over, from your mouth to the side of your neck, slowly making his way downard. His cock teases the slit of your entrance, coaxing along the delicate folds of your pussy. Intertwining his hand with yours, he looks at you one last time, “You ready?” he breathes out.

Biting your lip, you slowly nod your head yes, his head then slowly pushing into your tight entrance, a groan coming from both of your lips, “God I fucking love you,” he breathily moans beside your ear.

“I love you too,” you whisper in return, his gaze never leaving yours as his cock tortuously enters you inch by inch, the grip you have on his hand tightening with every passing second, “Oh my god,” you whimper, his pre-cum along with your prior wetness making the push inside more bearable.  

It isn’t until you’re completely filled up by his cock that he slowly begins to move. Each and every deep thrust garnerning both whines and mewls from you, “Fuck,” he moans, his voice raspy from pleasurable sensation he was feeling. Somehow he manages to continue to plaster kisses all over you, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist as he continues to grind his hips against yours, making nothing but love to you.

Your hot walls now take him with ease, the small pressure you had originally felt having slowly faded away. He keeps his thrusts at a moderate pace, wanting to savor the moment.

“J—Jungkook,” you cry out, feeling your second orgasm coming as you wrap your legs around his waist. He begins to pick up his pace, “Faster,” you moan, remembering that he was definitely okay with having rough sex, considering how many times you’d have to hear other woman moan just how harder they wanted back in the beginning of last year. Who said he couldn’t do the same for you?

“Faster?” he questions, a certain spark now in his eye, “You sure?” eagerly you nod your head yes, too lost in the idea of your possible orgasm to think of the repercussions of your answer. Because soon you find yourself getting completely fucked out, the pace of his thrust becoming almost uncomparable to the pace he was going before, this time not caring at all for rhythm. By now you're sure that your different number of cries and moans could be heard from downstairs, but honestly you could give less of a fuck.

The sound of your skin slapping with his echo against the wooden walls, your eyes screwing shut as you felt your high come. His rapid thrust continuing as he fucks you into oblivion, “Just look at you, creaming on my fucking cock,” he groans, by now sweat was forming on the creases of his forehead, “and to think I get to have you like this all to myself, every single day,” he chuckles, the tight feeling in his abdomen signalling to him that his own release was coming.

“Cum in me Jungkook,” you whine, and with that he does, his white milky cum coating your walls from the inside and out. He admires the view in front of him, the sight of you completely fucked out with his cum dripping from the entrance of your pussy, wondering how he got so lucky.

Out of breath, the two of you cuddle with one another, your eyes half closed, ready to knock out at any moment. But before you do, Jungkook peppers one last kiss onto your cheek, mumbling a final “I love you,” ready for the new memories this year would bring for the two of you.

a/n : ahhhhhh! finally finished with my finals so i was able to finally get this done! for some reason i sorta got attached to this couple, i think it’s because we got to see literally every month of their forming relationship so i just ended up really loving the dynamic between the two lmao. butttt all stories must come to an end :( and i’m very happy with how this story came out, but who knows maybe we’ll this couple again in the future. anywayssss like, reblog, comment, message me an anon or even directly! anything is appreciated (I swear im not a mean person) and ill see yall next time! 💞 

mini taglist: @ggukkieland​ @unicornbabylover​